The Superior Second Best

“So, where are you heading next?” Claire asked, already tugging her jacket on, flashing a teasing smile at Leon. “If you can tell me.”

“I would if I knew.” Leon shrugged, downing the rest of his coffee in the corner of the small coffee shop they had met before they both would find themselves from the other sides of the world fighting with BOWs again. “They’ve allowed me to take it easy since Spain.”

It was already bugging him, the need for action tingling in his fingertips. His life was already centered around those anxious nights when he had too much energy and had no other way to get rid of it than by jogging along the empty streets until they weren’t empty anymore.

“Enjoy it while you can,” Claire said, reaching to pat his shoulder. “Take care.”

“Say hi to Chris from me!”

“If I meet him before you do.” Claire rolled her eyes, lingering at the table but ready to go. “He’s always busy. Just like someone else I know.”

Leon laughed at the quip, knowing from Claire’s expression that she wasn’t mad. “If I don’t have any new missions to do soon, I promise to bug you so often that you’ll want to get rid of me.”

“Deal! But now I have to run.” Claire waved her hand, gone already when Leon got his hand in the air.

The smile slowly died from his lips, the familiar impatient itch replacing it as soon as he was alone.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like to have some time off after everything he went through in Spain, but it was already in the past, the flashes of it returning to his mind only in dreams. But his dreams had already been full of zombies, the bioweapons turning everything into a nightmare, and he was used to it.

He didn’t like sitting in a cozy coffee shop corner, sunlight reaching the ground from between the heavy clouds hanging in the sky. The people around him made him feel like he didn’t belong there now that he was alone, his thoughts returning to Raccoon City, how everything had been so normal before the hell broke free.

Sitting there and waiting for a new disaster to strike wasn’t something he could do anymore. Perhaps he could have if he hadn’t been recruited and hadn’t filled his life with monsters.

There was almost an hour before his appointment — one more Plaga control, hopefully the last — but it was better to wait in an environment that didn’t make him feel like an outsider.

Grabbing his jacket, he left the cafe, deciding to walk as the snow hadn’t melted into a wet mess just yet. He couldn’t say that he was waiting for new tests, especially because he knew they were useless. The Plaga was gone, and if some part of it was still inside him, he knew that there would have been some sign of it. He still remembered the sensation of sitting in the backseat, the white noise in his ears convincing him how he could finally sit back and relax, and he hadn’t felt it again.

Not after Ashley had helped him kill the Plaga, but he understood why USSTRATCOM wanted to make sure that he was clean and in control of his mind again. He wanted to be sure of it too, so he didn’t complain. His legs knew the route, taking him to the familiar clinic, through the same doors as always, to stare at the same muted TV in the waiting room, and finally sitting on the edge of the examination table.

The doctor was different from the previous few times, quieter than Leon was used to. He knew the routine; CT scan and blood work, five blood collection tubes with four different cap colors.

Except, this time, there were more of them.

“Something going on?” Leon jerked his chin towards the vacutainers, trying to meet the doctor’s gaze. “Or are you just preparing for a vampire outbreak?”

The stare he deserved was dry of any emotion. “Just a routine, agent Kennedy. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

It made him uncomfortable, the bad feeling already there, but he couldn’t say if it was the situation itself or just how little his doctor seemed to like her job. Leon didn’t stop her from grabbing his arm, strapping an elastic tourniquet around his bicep. His legs dangled over the edge of the bed, balls of his shoes touching the floor as he watched absent-mindedly how the needle sank under his skin.

He didn’t like needles, not after the Plaga had been administered through one, but he had to get used to it again. Any of his irrational fears could kill him if he got lost in his mind at the wrong moment.

The procedure wasn’t any different from before, aside from the tubes, but something in the situation rubbed him wrong, the pressure growing in the back of his mind telling him to do something.

“I need to know what’s going on. The Plaga’s still gone, right?”

“There weren’t any signs of the said parasite in the scan.” The wrinkles on the doctor’s forehead deepened as she moved to the fourth tube. “We just need to be sure that you’re at full strength again.”

If it was the last control, it was logical that they wanted to do more tests. Leon nodded, only to realize that something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the world didn’t stop spinning around him, the sudden cold sweat rising on his forehead. His gaze looked for the tubes, seeing only six of them full, knowing that it wasn’t enough to make him feel this way. He had seen and lost enough blood to know where his limits lie.

“Agent Kennedy? You look pale.”

He inhaled, trying to keep his arm where it was. “I… I might have forgotten to eat today.”

Not a lie, but not enough to explain it. His head was too mushy to figure out what was going on, but he didn’t resist as he was helped onto his back on the examination table.

“It happens to all of us at times. I’ll ask the nurse to bring you something to eat and drink before continuing.”

Leon nodded, the black dots reminding him of flies that had collected to feast on the corpses. He tried to swallow nausea down and breathe slowly, to make it go away.

It didn’t go away.

He opened his mouth, trying to get out a warning, to ask if they had done something to him, but the smell of disinfectant he could taste on his tongue was too strong, the lights too bright.

His hand tried to slide on his hips, find his gun, instinctively searching for something he could use to protect himself. Yet, he never had time to feel the grip of the pistol under his fingers.

It was raining.

Leon turned his hand, palm upward, letting the large raindrops fall on his skin, gather together, and slide down from between his fingers.

Where was he? How?

He raised his head, looking around, the black car in front of him, waiting with an open door for him to step inside.

“Leon? Can you hear me?”

Frowning, Leon shook his head slowly, though he knew that Hannigan couldn’t see it while her voice was audible from his earpiece. “Sorry, can you repeat what you said?”

Hannigan sighed, her voice tenser than usual, but it could be just because Leon really wasn’t up to date with the situation. He was too distracted to listen to her like he should, picking up information about the mission, the plane waiting for him, the car taking him to the airport.

It was nothing out of the ordinary, but Leon couldn’t shake away the feeling that something was wrong. He couldn’t remember anything after his appointment, the phone in his pocket revealing that he had lost three days.

It required less than three days for tens of thousands of Raccoon City residents to mutate into zombies since the outbreak, and he was only one man.

“Hannigan,” Leon interrupted her, still standing outside the car and letting the rain drum his shoulders and wet his hair. “Can this wait for a day or two? I need to do something before leaving.”

He could count on Hannigan, wanted to trust STRAT, hoping that maybe he had just partied too hard or hit his head onto that annoying doorway of his closet. But he had seen things go wrong so many times, knew that it was dangerous to hope for the best and not prepare for the worst.

“Leon, this is urgent. We need to secure the information and destroy the samples before Umbrella transfers them. Or worse, someone we don’t know enough gets there before us.” She said it like it wasn’t the first time she reminded him of it, and Leon couldn’t stop the bang of guilt.

It wasn’t Hannigan’s fault that he was a mess. He had a long flight ahead, time to figure out what was going on with him. He didn’t feel sick, and he had survived worse.

He could do this. “Understood. Keep me informed.”

He stepped into the car, soaking the seat, the puddle forming under his feet. The driver glanced at him and nodded shortly before focusing on driving, leaving Leon to stare through the window wet with rainwater.

Though he tried to dig deep into his memories, scroll through his messages (there were none after Claire’s), and finally check his wrists and palpate his neck to find anything strange, he was just like before. Not even a bump in his head, which would have been a tell-tale sign of him needing to do something about that cursed closet.

It wouldn’t be the first time he had drunk too much. Him being late from the first workday from RPD had spared him, and even though it had been just a twist of fate, it was so easy to believe that one drink more wouldn’t hurt.

He settled for the explanation, for now, knowing that he had to focus on his mission or it didn’t matter what had happened. If he died, there wouldn’t be a mystery to solve.

If Leon had hated Spain, he decided to hate snow and freezing cold wind even more.

He had run around the dull concrete building for an hour, first trying to find the door and then what kind of lock mechanism it had. Unlike most Umbrella’s secret laboratories, this didn’t have a pendant or an answer to a riddle required for opening the door, but he didn’t have a key either.

His feet sank into the snow, some of it finding its way into his boots as well, but at least he had packed the right clothes for the weather despite the hole in his memory. He tried to contact Hannigan a few times, both for the mission and what had happened before it, but the howling wind and snow collecting on top of his hood made the connection unstable and pretty much useless.

He was alone, and if he didn’t get out alive, no one would know about his death before he was long gone. It seemed to be a running theme in his life.

Trying to suppress the clattering of his teeth, rubbing his hands together when his fingers felt colder and colder inside his gloves, he stopped in his tracks.

There were footprints in the snow.

He crouched down after glancing around, making sure that no one was planning to shoot him. The snow had already covered part of the prints, but he could distinguish two marks of identical boots, only different sizes. And then there was one more pair, the spaces between the leaps of the steps looking unnaturally long.

There hadn’t been signs of BOWs, but Leon knew not to trust in what he saw. He straightened his back, grabbed his gun even though his fingers were stiff from cold, and followed the footprints that looked to belong to humans. If they were guards, they could be his way in.

The cold air made his nose tickle, and the snow melted and froze on his eyelashes as he couldn’t stay on the cover of the building any longer. He tried to remain hidden, follow the people he hoped to be guards, and he didn’t have to wait for much longer.

There were two bodies slumped on the ground, the snow turned red around them, the footprints on the snow urgent and uncontrolled.

Whatever had killed them wasn’t there anymore, but Leon kept glancing over his shoulder as he kneeled down to feel their pockets for a key. The bodies were still lukewarm, getting colder by the second, and he had no time to linger as he pulled his glove off, grimaced at his reddened fingers, and started to rummage around their pockets.

They didn’t have symbols in the black uniforms, the familiar umbrella not mocking Leon for how it was still alive and kicking. The lack of the usual insignia worried him, but many other corporations were working in the bioweapon industry. He couldn’t afford to choose which one he was trying to sabotage.

“There you are.”

His numb fingertips found the key — nothing too weird, for once. It really didn’t really seem like Umbrella — and he was already running away from where the corpses lay, knowing that whoever had killed the men could still be lingering around and hunting for fresh meat.

He didn’t dare to try barging in from the front door but continued where the wind didn’t try to push him into the air and force him to learn to fly, and as he paddled through the snow, he noticed the other footprints again.

They weren’t sinking deep into the snow as he did, they were sprinkled here and there. Sighing, Leon touched the gun on his belt, confirming that his frozen fingers were still flexible enough to grab the weapon if necessary.

Of course he wouldn’t be alone.

He stumbled with the key while standing in front of the maintenance door, cursing as he almost dropped what he was holding. Still, he somehow managed to make the light next to the door turn green and allow him to enter.

Only when the heavy door closed behind him, squawking even when he tried to lean against it, he realized that whoever had killed the guards had left him a key. If it was someone intelligent enough, they had done it on purpose.

The place wasn’t so dark that Leon would have needed a flashlight, so he focused on his gun and potential enemies. The hum of the ventilation was loud, the air smelling stale after the cold, his shirt sticking to his skin when he started to sweat.

He pondered on taking off his jacket so he wouldn’t melt, but the red flashing light in the upper corner of the walkway stole his thoughts. He couldn’t do much to surveillance; by shooting them, he could sabotage his own exit. He had found the control room often enough to know how useful a working surveillance system could be.

He huffed, taking a step where he would be visible, holding his breath. It was still quiet, but the slight change in the air around him made the hair on his neck stand up. A swish passing just behind him was familiar, and he didn’t need to think as his reflexes kicked in.

His next step was faster, helping him turn, aim, and shoot, the bullet finding its place in between the eyes of a guard.

“Sorry, buddy,” Leon said as he shook the jacket from his shoulder, watching where the throwing knife had exposed its contents but not gotten under it. “But I liked this jacket.”

The corpse didn’t answer or comment on it, and Leon stalked closer to look at it before making sure that the guard didn’t have buddies. He had the same markless uniform, his face behind the helmet young and inexperienced.

He had just had bad luck. Just like Leon did as he returned to empty the pockets of his jacket, finding his phone in pieces from where the knife had taken it, as if it was where the guard had aimed. Without a phone and working comms, he could be already planning on walking to the nearest airport with his own two legs, and it felt almost like the murder he just committed wasn’t such a colossal crime.

Leon often hoped that he was beyond feeling sorry for killing people who worked for corporations like Umbrella. He knew that most of them wouldn’t have chosen that road if they had been appropriately informed and knew where they were heading.

…Would anyone want to work for them if they knew everything from the beginning? He wasn’t the one to know, the only occupation he ever wanted had been taken away from him after one unfortunate night.

The air felt chilly now that he had left his jacket behind, and he tried to relax to stop the shivering. It would only get him killed as he had to act fast, and he knew that the empty hallways wouldn’t stay barren forever. Though it’d be such a luxury to be somewhere when there wasn’t an outbreak going on for once. Maybe he was lucky, for once.

As he turned around the corner, he knew why the place was so empty. All the guards were in the same place, spread to cover the hallway floor, more or less unrecognizable in their current state.

His steps were slow and careful as he got closer, expecting some of them to stir back to life, rise to their feet, and see a five-star dinner. He tried to hear something over the ventilation, whether it would be groans of undead or heavy steps of the tyrant, but it was quiet. Way too quiet.

There was a familiar hollowness in his chest as he tried to deduce what had happened and how the guards had died. It was a short moment when he felt his face scrunching up, the despair of how he had to see more and more death wherever he went.

A shattered tank in the middle of them was bad news, especially because it was empty. There were no signs of blood on the sharp edges of broken glass, no dried slime or some other substance. But the guards’ blood was still relatively fresh, the largest puddles not fully dried just yet.

He got close enough to see what had killed the guards who had tried to run in panic, their weapons scattered around as they had been thrown around in the narrow hallway, bullets leaving dents on the otherwise smooth and white walls.

Some of them had bullet wounds, which shouldn’t have calmed him down, but it did. He had no desire to get stuck between two or more fighting factions, but it was different to fight humans than BOWs.

“Whoever it was, they made a mess of you.” Leon poked one of the soldiers on his side, helping him to roll on his back so he could stare at something that wasn’t a bullet wound.

His grip tightened on his gun as he hoped that it was nothing more than a slash of a knife. But the way the wound looked infected, almost yellow as if it was full of pus, was enough for Leon to know what he was dealing with. The tank revealed that they had BOWs here, but why would they want to transfer one now?

Was this place going to hell as well? Leon was tired of ending up in facilities like this only when things had already gone wrong, but it was his job. So if there was a BOW, he had to take it down before it hurt anyone else.

Of fucking course. This wasn’t any different from usual.

He backed off quickly, his gaze already looking for something that would be just waiting for an opportunity to attack him. He didn’t know what kind of BOWs they had there. He had lost Hannigan entirely, he couldn’t even hear the line about being unable to form the connection.

After a second thought, he returned to grab one of the radios that the guards were carrying. If some of them were alive, it would be helpful to hear what was happening.

He still didn’t have a map, so he ran where he believed he wouldn’t be cornered immediately. The light flicked above him, and he slowed down, holding his breathing. As he looked up, he almost expected to see a licker, the old memory from Raccoon City still forming so easily in front of his eyes even after a handful of years.

There was nothing to see. Just bright fluorescent tubes shining from the lamps that hang from the ceiling, swinging slowly. It was one more sign that this wasn’t Umbrella. There weren’t bright LEDs lighting the hallways, and the place looked like they had used a fraction less of the budget, saved where it wasn’t necessary for safety.

Hannigan had said that this was Umbrella’s facility. Was it because the whole place was behind god’s back, or were they trying to hide who they really were? Or had these people managed to feed them false information? If, why?

He was alone. There was nothing to see but empty lengths of white corridors as his thoughts raced in his mind. Yet, there was a familiar feeling in the back of his neck.

The slow swinging of one of the lamps above. There wasn’t wind inside, the air was still.

Leon swallowed, the drop of sweat running down his spine. It felt wet, too wet, as if it was staining his collar and shirt and—

He wasn’t sure what he was shooting, but he aimed at the place that seemed the most suspicious, hoping to see something. As little as he liked huge, loud, and aggressive monsters, stealthy ones weren’t any better. If possible, they were just worse.

The first few bullets didn’t hit their target, but the fourth did. It made the bioweapon let out a screeching sound, twisting from where it was hiding, and Leon knew that he was staring as the lean, thin body moved from where it had been hiding, the limbs unfolding themselves a joint by joint, and there were too many of them. He watched as the BOW revealed itself from where it had been hiding, getting larger and larger, much taller than Leon but still so thin, as if the wind could blow it over.

He didn’t believe that it would be so easy to beat it.

As the creature turned its head towards him, either smelling or seeing him though there was nothing resembling eyes or nose on its face, Leon sprinted farther and emptied a clip into the BOW. It had decided him to be its next meal and surged towards him, the silent and insect-like sound of its movement making Leon shudder again.

His bullets didn’t seem to affect his new friend, which looked like it was made of dried tendons that got longer and longer, the claws in the ends getting closer and closer to him. He had no idea how the monster had managed to hide above him, if it could turn invisible by will or had other camouflage properties, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was how his bullets were nothing to it. They weren’t even flies distracting its attacks.

Why did he even have a gun with him when it seemed useless so often?

Leon knew that he couldn’t kill the BOW now, not without planning and preparing, so he did what he was used to doing in moments like this, needing to search for something that would give him an upper hand.

He ran.

Sometimes he hated his job.

After running through what felt like endless hallways and losing any mental map he had tried to keep, Leon believed he had lost the BOW. Not because he had been fast enough or managed to shoot it down as it seemed to have more and more joints and reach farther and farther so that it was impossible to walk past it, but because he had run into men wearing the familiar logo that he had been missing.

Now, he stood in the dark, staring at rows of computers that didn’t have a swirling Umbrella on their screen. He was sure that this wasn’t an Umbrella facility, but he didn’t know who owned the place and was even more confused that Umbrella was there with him.

They hadn’t looked friendly, but Leon hadn’t had time to shoot, greet, or ask questions as he had a BOW pursuing him. Even though he didn’t want anything good for Umbrella, it was always sad to see men die, and he hoped that their guns were more effective against the joint monster than Leon’s handgun had been.

If they weren’t… Well, he needed a new gun anyway.

His back was still against the wall, his gaze trying to peek through the glass window of the door to see if he was followed. His heart was loud in his ears, beating fast as he checked how many bullets he had left, cursing when he had wasted them in something that shrugged them away without a second thought.

Yet, this wasn’t the worst situation he had been in. He wasn’t even forced to fight anyone as long as he found the control center and the lovely red self-destruction button. He wasn’t wounded, and he still had his gun, so it was going as well as possible. He knew this dance, and even though part of him hoped that he would have never been pulled into this world, this wasn’t the first time he had gone through hell like this.

“Not my first rodeo, but not the last one either,” he muttered under his breath, cocking his gun just to be ready for anything.

“Not planning to retire anytime soon?”

The voice made him jump and raise the gun, pointing at the shadows and trying to deduce where the person talking to him was.

“Are you offering to pay my pension if I do?”

“It depends.” A man stepped from the shadows, seeming unphased by Leon’s stance or his gun. Leon didn’t have to see more than the sunglasses that he had on, even in the dark room, his hair slicked back without a lock being out of place.

He hadn’t seen the man face to face before, but it didn’t mean he didn’t know who he was. “Wesker.”

The corner of Wesker’s face curled up into a smug smirk. “In person.”

“I noticed that Umbrella’s here as well. Are you working for them again, or are you just having a class reunion in a familiar environment?” Leon kept his gun where it was, the only reason for not shooting was that he had heard enough to know that it would be just a waste of bullets.

“Actually, I came for you.”

Leon frowned, wondering if it was a threat or Wesker’s version of a joke.

“I see you already met Strawman.”

“I met what?”

Wesker sighed, obviously annoyed that he had to repeat himself. “I saw you running from it. It was smart to lead it to something more tempting than a lonely agent.”

Leon didn’t bother to say that it had been an accident. He just blinked, allowing his hand to fall because he already knew that he wouldn’t take a shot. If he wanted to kill Wesker, he needed something much more efficient, and he believed that if this monster in man’s clothes wanted him dead, he’d already have lost his chance.

“What’s with the name?”

Wesker cocked a brow. “I’m sure that you can use your imagination, Leon.”

It sounded wrong to hear his name roll with that cold, almost bored voice. He wasn’t surprised that Wesker knew who he was. That man probably had a list of anyone who’d potentially want to sabotage his attempts to destroy the world, if Leon had any faith in Chris’ words.

“Are you going to keep me here entertaining you for shits and giggles, or do you have something to say?” Leon asked as he leaned to peek out from the door window, the hallway still pleasantly empty.

“It depends on how well you’ll do.”

Leon shot an incredulous glare at Wesker but met only the impenetrable darkness of his sunglasses. “If you wait for me to do your dirty work and kill that thing just so you can get rid of me, it won’t happen.”

Wesker tilted his head, a lopsided smile dancing on his face. It was impossible to imagine any warmth on that face. “I’m not here to kill you, agent. This time, I’m not your enemy.”

“Like fuck you aren’t,” Leon huffed and rolled his eyes, grabbing the door handle. “I hope we won’t meet again, but I’ve learned not to be such an optimist.”

“I’ll see you later,” Wesker replied, all smug. “If you don’t die before it.”

“Worry about yourself,” Leon muttered as he slipped out of the door, closing it again behind him. He felt guilty for not even trying to threaten Wesker (pointing a gun at him wasn’t enough), wondered what Chris would say, and decided to bury the meeting in the same place in his mind where he kept his thoughts and memories of Ada.

As much as someone like Wesker deserved to face the law, Leon knew it was impossible to make that happen all by himself. Just as impossible as killing him, and he didn’t want to imagine what kind of extra mutations there’d be even if he managed to do it once.

It always got worse every time he imagined that he had beaten someone or something. Nothing stayed dead, except the people who didn’t deserve to die in the first place.

Though, would Wesker mutate? He looked so normal, and Leon knew that he had died once already.

The gunshots echoed in the air, and Leon turned on his heels, deciding to go further instead of closer because if he could avoid fighting, he should. He jogged along the hallways, keeping his steps light, ready to sprint if he had to. It felt as if he was also running away from his thoughts, the curiosity and questions that weren’t his to ask. If he really had to know, he was sure that there were some classified files to read if he kept his eyes peeled.

The walkie-talkie hanging from his belt made a sound, alive for the first time since Leon had picked it up. “Susi, Ahma, over.”

“Go ahead, Ahma, over.”

So there were enough guards (or were they soldiers?) left, so they weren’t all in the same place. Leon hoped that it was a good thing, but he still had no idea who these people were, and it bothered him.

He should have asked. Hannigan should have told him, she always did, but now he felt like he lacked crucial information, and it could get him killed. Hannigan must have false information about this place, but how bad could it—

“Ahma under heavy fire. We lost contact with Ilves after confirming that the subject STM03 escaped, break...”

Leon could hear how the voice was trembling, the accent strong from fear, how the man talking stopped to take a deep breath not to break down. Leon didn’t know who they worked for, but it felt bad to know they were dying.

“Laboratory 4 is destroyed, and Umbrella is blocking exit 1. Take cover near exit 2, over.”

“I read back,” the other voice replied, Susi sounding much calmer. “Take cover—”

“For fuck’s sake!” The man on the other side of the line lost his cool and broke the protocol. “Yankees don’t pay us enough for this shit. They already dropped the other BOW here, and I fucking chose to move here to avoid something like this!”

There was more than one BOW? Leon heaved a sigh, ignoring the following few lines as he pondered if he should say something; offer his help, maybe? He didn’t know if they were his enemies or friends, but they all didn’t need to die here.

When there was a pause in the conversation, he pushed the button on the side of the radio. The worst he could do was reveal that he was there as well, but if they owned the place, they must already know it.

“This is agent Kennedy from USSTRATCOM. Can you tell me more about the BOWs present, over?”

There was no answer, and Leon pocketed the device again. Maybe they were enemies as well. It seemed that he was in the middle of a huge mess. Even though part of him wanted to warn these people, he knew that all he could do was search for the command center and run for his life, leave behind more ruins and tell his superiors that he didn’t manage to retrieve the information he was supposed to.

That’s how it went every time. He knew what the government did with what they learned and how he could cause more bad than good if he did exactly what he was told. Acting like this kept his leash short, without much freedom, and finding himself in places like this time and time again. But if it helped save human lives, he was ready to try.

The place was much bigger than he had imagined, just like they usually were. To avoid the Umbrella squad, the red and white logo visible in their uniform, Leon found himself on the lower level. It was full of identical hallways, only a bit less white than upstairs.

He still hadn’t found a map, and running around without a goal felt almost as terrible an idea as staying where he was. It was quiet most of the time; sometimes, distant gunshots and screams reached him, and Leon did his best not to let curiosity get the better of him. He still had seen only one BOW, waiting for another with his heart beating in his ears.

Though, of course, they could mean Wesker, and it would mean that Leon knew the whole entourage already. Yet, he couldn’t let himself believe that there wouldn’t be more hidden threats, so he stayed on alert, hoping that he wouldn’t have to run all the way back to where he entered the building to get away.

The monotone rhythm of his steps pulled him so quickly into his thoughts, but the sight of a laboratory pulled him back into reality. The lights inside were on, but it was empty, with distantly familiar-looking machines standing against the walls, and Leon knew that this place had to be destroyed. He could never forget what kind of devices he saw in the underground laboratory in Raccoon City, and after seeing one BOW, he knew that this place wasn’t just producing influenza vaccines.

This and probably many more labs could be dealt with in the explosion, but he couldn’t let the place just stay there. It was like a treasure cave ready to reveal its secrets to anyone who knew how to hack into these computers.

“I need something else than just cardio, after all,” Leon told himself as he stepped in.

He settled for a foam extinguisher (inspected 7 years ago) that was easy to pull from where it was standing. It was heavy but not too heavy to raise in the air and let it collide with one of the machines.

He knew that the loud crash could attract attention and turned to mistreat the innocent-looking laptops on the desks. He wasn’t capable of breaking everything beyond recovering some data from them, and if someone like Wesker wanted information, he probably already had that. It still made him feel better, knowing that he had done a good deed today.

This job was full of disappointments, lost documents, and stabs in the back, but this: this was in front of his eyes, made by his own hands. Material damage over lost human lives.

As he felt his muscles protest the sudden motions, it felt good. As if he could let out his frustration for once, hide the emptiness, scream internally and forget that he could still die at any moment. He was so tired of this shit, he didn’t want this anymore, but this was all he could do.

He had been infected, but apparently the Plaga was now permanently gone because he had been sent here. He had been prepared to die so many times. He just wanted to help, but this didn’t feel like helping. It was like CPR, like saving one and killing ten more.

With a grunt, he pushed one of the displays on the floor, the crash making him wince and hope that no one was watching, observing him.

“These biceps didn’t come for free,” he told the camera in the ceiling, almost laughing mirthlessly at his own actions. It was the moment of letting go, one that he might end up regretting, but he wasn’t fine. He still couldn’t remember, he was still antsy even after a long fly that had bored him to death.

To his relief, no one came to see where the noise was coming from. He felt satisfied as he watched the destroyed laptops and broken machines, knowing that it was useless but needing these moments when he could imagine putting an end to this hell that never seemed to end.

As he turned around, walking past one of the desks, something got stuck to the leg of his pants. He glanced back, expecting to see a scuffed side of the desk after someone had hit their foot against it way too many times, but the sight made his heart fall onto the bottom of his belly and stop beating.

It didn’t matter how many times he had stared death in the eyes. It never got any easier.

He did his best to ignore how the BOW straightened its back (did it have a back!?), getting larger and larger from where it had been hiding, completely invisible as long as it had wanted to stalk him. A string of drool dripped from its mouth, full of sharp tiny teeth that seemed to be gritting and grinding together as it stared down at him.

The fear was a numbness in his fingers and pressure behind his eyes, but this wasn’t the worst he had faced. He wouldn’t die now, not without knowing where his lost days had gone. Not without figuring out what Wesker wanted.

With one rough jerk, Leon managed to free his leg. He felt the sharp nail slicing his pants and leg and limped further so Strawman wouldn’t grab him immediately again.

“You could have just asked if you needed directions,” Leon said more to himself than to the BOW, aiming his gun though he had already learned that the creature didn’t react to bullets for any longer than a few heartbeats.

And Leon’s heart was beating so fast that it didn’t give him much time.

He turned on his heels, almost tearing the door from its hinges accompanied by a sharp pain in his wrist, running as fast as he could along the corridor and shooting a few times over his shoulder. It was just as useless as he already knew, his shoes slipping on the smooth floor as he turned in the corner.

This time, the BOW seemed more interested in him than last time. It wasn’t only growing but leaping after him, the sound of it thumping against the walls and floor as it used the surroundings to move faster and faster.

There must be a weapon to incapacitate it, some way to control it or put it down. It was madness to grow a BOW like that and not have something to stop it because these experiments got out of hand every single time.

He tried to focus on thinking, to ignore how he could feel the air moving just behind him and the creature almost grabbing him. There wouldn’t be coming back if those claws wrapped around any of his limbs, or worse, managed to squeeze his torso full of holes.

It felt like he already knew the correct answer as he saw from the corner of his eye how the red and brown tendons stretched closer, the lighter parts surrounded by a darker color. If he now slowed down, he’d see even more, feel if they were as hard as they looked, all the parts collected together but looking dry and like they were ready to break if touched.

They were almost like thick straws supported by a tiny amount of meat.

Fucking Wesker. Leon would have stopped to laugh if he didn’t have to dodge the claws moving just over his head.

Wesker had told him the weak spot for whatever reason, and now Leon had to find something that spat fire where he wanted. He wasn’t optimistic enough to believe that he’d find a flamethrower, but he could always hope.

He was already planning his next move, surging down the stairs two steps at a time before jumping over the handrail to be faster, as the walkie-talkie on his belt crackled into life. Leon grabbed it, ready to throw it away because it hadn’t helped him before, and he didn’t want to attract attention by sound, but the one word he heard was enough to make him squeeze it tighter.

“Leon.”

He grimaced, wondering if Wesker just wanted to brag while waiting for the BOW to kill him. Yet, Ada had given him a reason not to doubt the enemy too much in moments of extreme danger. They could have had a common enemy, even for a few minutes.

He made sure that the BOW was far enough before pressing the button on the side of the radiophone. “Are you worried about me?”

His voice was breathless from all the running, but he still grinned when he heard the remnants of Wesker’s sigh. “Take the next right and keep your distance.”

“You should tell that to your fellow mutant, not me.” Still, Leon did what he was told to. He didn’t know which direction he should head to, so he could just as well play along and think more of it if he wasn’t killed.

It was a great distraction, if nothing else.

He sprinted, clearing his throat to make sure that his words wouldn’t muffle together. “Do you know where I can find a flamethrower? For scientific reasons.”

“I can imagine what kind of science you’re thinking about.” Wesker’s tone was dry, almost frustrated, and Leon couldn’t stop a chuckle from escaping his mouth though he needed his oxygen as he couldn’t stop running. “How do you know that I’m not already telling you how to get to one?”

There was no reason for Wesker to want him alive. The more people that tried to remove BOWs from this world died, the better for him. It made no sense, and it made Leon’s steps falter.

What if he was making a mistake by trusting Wesker? Ada was different; they had a history, and she had saved his life. But he didn’t know enough about Wesker, only reports and Chris’ drunken words slurring together as he unloaded about the misery of everything he had lost.

Mistake or not, stopping to think of it now was something he shouldn’t do.

There was a sharp pain in his shoulder and bicep, the claws scratching into his skin and drawing blood, sinking deep so he could feel his whole arm spasm and tingle. He bit back a cry, trying to forget all those times he had almost died, how he had nearly given up more than a few times during his missions.

He dropped to his knees and rolled over, raising his gun and emptying the clip to buy himself time. He was panting, the sweat of pain on his forehead, the heat spreading from where he had been wounded.

If it was infectious, if he’d see his skin turn red and then yellow, full of pus before dropping off, he was screwed.

Wesker said something, his voice audible from the walkie-talkie that had slipped from Leon’s fingers, but Leon couldn’t focus on the words.

He scrambled to his feet, pushed his gun back on his belt when there was no time to load it again, and continued running. His steps weren’t as sure as before, there wasn’t room for doubts in his mind anymore.

The next turn right. It was all he knew.

His balance was off when he rounded the corner, trying to stay as close to the wall as possible, the almost inaudible clicks of the BOW behind him keeping him aware of how it wasn’t giving up.

It felt hopeless. He knew that he couldn’t give up, he wasn’t going to do so. But his legs felt heavy, his breathing was ragged as he tried to keep it running. He couldn’t run much longer, and if Wesker had just wanted to distract him, he had done just that.

Leon swallowed, forcing his eyes up, but whatever he tried to decide, the thoughts died before he could think of them.

The hallway ended, widening into something like a hall, and it wasn’t empty. There were several soldiers behind the containers, guns ready, full gear on. He expected them to be Umbrella’s men, but they weren’t.

He knew that logo, the design of their clothes, the TMPs pointing at the BOW behind him.

The first burst of bullets was loud, and Leon had barely time to dodge, cursing under his breath. They weren’t Umbrella, he knew them, and they weren’t supposed to shoot him!

“What are you doing here?” He tried to yell over the sound of shooting, Strawman surging past him and towards soldiers he knew were working for STRAT.

They weren’t supposed to be there. Leon didn’t want more people to die, but he couldn’t do much while loading his gun, knowing how useless it was. Just as useless as the submachine guns emptying themselves into the BOW, that seemed to think that it was dinnertime.

No one answered him. It was almost like no one noticed him in the first place, the bullets hitting just next to his head, forcing Leon to squeeze his eyes shut instinctively.

Either they didn’t know who he was, or they were shooting him on purpose, which… made no sense.

He crept behind the containers, the guilt squeezing his throat as he heard a few loud screams that were cut short as the soldiers died before they ran out of breath. The pain still pulsed in his shoulder, but Leon didn’t allow himself to glance at the burning-hot skin but looked around, trying to find something he could use before everyone would be dead.

The hall was high, the platforms circling the edges above, and Leon stopped to stare at the figure staring down at the fight from above.

It was too far, so he could have been sure, but he knew that long black coat, his mind painted the sunglasses to cover the observing gaze.

The anger surged in Leon’s veins, the feeling of betrayal that was so familiar and that he had no reason to feel. He should be figuring out a plan, saving people on the same side as he was, but he was stuck staring at Wesker and wondering if the BOW would climb to reach for him when everyone, including Leon, would be dead in the lower level.

With a deep breath that did nothing to calm him down, Leon pushed his emotions away, forgetting them once again so they wouldn’t stop him from fulfilling his mission. He heard the soldiers dying, smelled the blood, the goosebumps traveling on his skin as he prepared himself to face the eyeless Strawman again, to see those teeth, those claws, the fear of himself being ripped to pieces.

Just as he planned on rolling from behind the container, praying to some greater force that he had stopped believing a long time ago that the soldiers would be focused on the BOW, he saw from the corner of his eye how Wesker moved.

Something heavy crashed down, close enough to where Leon was hiding. A cloud of dust and pieces of wood rose in the air, forcing Leon back off behind the container again as the sound attracted the BOW’s attention as well.

What was it? Did Wesker plan to kill them all with a bomb, poison gas, or a different virus?

He could believe in those possibilities, and Leon cursed under his breath. He knew that he had to move to see what it was. It didn’t matter what he wanted, he was a tool, and this was his mission, and if he didn’t succeed, he’d be dead.

He didn’t want to die. Not without achieving something that mattered.

He moved from behind the container, dodging the claws sinking into the floor just behind him. The wooden box was so close, but he was too slow, almost sluggish, the hot pain still bubbling in his shoulder. He didn’t know if he was already dying.

The planks of the box had broken from hitting the floor enough to reveal the sight that made Leon want to slam his fist in the air and cheer, but with the knowledge came the doubts.

Why had Wesker helped him?

His short nails cracked and flaked against the planks as Leon tore it open with his bare hands, in a hurry and hearing the rain of bullets hitting the wall way too close to him. He shouldn’t have felt relieved when someone from the STRATCOM was still alive, not when they seemed to have taken him as a target. They could be someone he knew, a friend of someone he had fought with, perhaps they had lost contact with the HQ just like he had.

He grinned like a child on Christmas Day as he managed to pull the flamethrower out, check that it hadn’t been damaged when hitting the floor and that the tanks connected to it were full.

They were. It was working. As long as he didn’t think of this price, he felt nothing but giddy.

Swinging the fuel tanks over his good shoulder, he took a stance, allowing Strawman to notice him and surge closer before pulling the trigger. He didn’t take it slow, the flames high and hot, the heat of them on his skin and almost burning his fingers where the gloves weren’t covering his hands.

It was so satisfying, even when the screech of the BOW was loud and painful against his eardrums. It wasn’t enough to make him stop to cover his ears, not when he had a great spot where the bullets weren’t reaching, and he could see how well the fire worked.

The smell of burning wood was thick in the air, the melting plastic mixing into it, but Leon knew that he’d be dead for other reasons before the health effects of moments like these would really slap him on his face.

Strawman was squirming, reaching for something to make it stop. Leon felt the heated material under his hands, hoping that this BOW wouldn’t mutate to something even worse. He was so fucking tired to see them come back, again and again.

He had to take a pause to move when it seemed that he was chosen as the new shooting target, evading a thin limb reaching for him and trying to wound him again, but it wasn’t enough to make him let go of the trigger of his new toy. Now that he had the right kind of weapon for this, he wasn’t going to stop until he was sure he had enough time to find the command center and then fuck off.

He’d worry about the rest after that. When he could contact Hannigan again, he’d have more than his words alone to explain how he was on the same side as the soldiers fighting against the BOW with him.

“This is the second-best thing after camping, don’t you think?” Leon asked as his finger pulled the trigger as back as possible again, freeing the flames to lick along with the tendons and color them black.

Only when the BOW was lying on the ground, the unfolded limbs reaching almost from wall to wall and the color of it sickening dark red and black, some parts almost gray and perishing into a fine ash, did Leon let himself breathe again.

The flamethrower was heavy on his back, the tanks pressing against his ribs as he tried to keep the weight from his wounded shoulder, but he wasn’t going to let go of it before he knew it was safe. He couldn’t leave yet, he had to destroy the place and get out.

There could be more monsters, Umbrella’s soldiers had been nowhere to be seen for some time, and there was always one BOW more to fight.

Only then he’d be done, but perhaps this time, it wouldn’t destroy his sanity. Sometimes these missions didn’t have to leave him broken and scared, and he was grateful if they had given him something easier after a long pause he had needed since the Plaga case.

Or there was something more, something Leon didn’t know yet. It was what usually happened, the bad changing worse, and on top of that, he still didn’t know Wesker’s motive.

It wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t the worst it could be. As he jogged back along the hallway he had come from, he still didn’t have a map, but he knew where he had already been. There was still paranoia breathing on his neck, the fear of more BOWs appearing from somewhere, but he needed this adrenaline in his veins.

He knew what would happen when the fear would leave him, when he’d be empty from surging energy that made all the edges sharp and colors pale. The physical sensation of being alive and everything that came with it was sometimes such a pain to deal with, but he’d think of it if he got out of here alive.

When he found his abandoned radio lying on the ground, his first instinct was to leave it where it was. But as he glanced at the flamethrower, he couldn’t help but think how the gesture had been so similar to what Ada always did, aiding him but rarely just saving him. It was familiar, it made Leon too trusting, knowing that Ada always had her own plans but didn’t want him dead.

They had saved each other so many times that there was something that couldn’t be paid back. There were the kisses and lipstick marks, the sweet manipulation that Leon was ready to accept as long as he could distinguish it from sincere words.

But Wesker had no reason to want him alive. Wesker would never sign his letter with a kiss of painted red lips.

The mental image made Leon wheeze, almost cackle aloud, if the shaking of his laughter wouldn’t have hurt his shoulder. But it was enough to make him pick up the device, pressing the button on the side of it.

“Wesker? Do you know where the control center is?” It was worth a try, right? “Over.”

He almost cheered as the divide cracked into static and then came alive. It wasn’t broken. “Took you long enough.”

Leon snorted at Wesker’s voice, unsure if he was amused or irritated by it. “Didn’t know you were waiting for me to finish.”

“I wouldn’t wait for you to finish if I was there.”

…He wasn’t flirting with Wesker, was he?

It wasn’t like he didn’t do that with everyone in situations like this, trying to feel like he had some control over his own fear. But he wasn’t used to replies like this, not from anyone else but Ada, and it threw him off.

Leon decided that it was just because of this adrenaline in him, how he knew that he’d come down sooner or later and need something he couldn’t have to ease the realization of being still alive. There was no one else here than Wesker who hadn’t tried to kill him.

“Do you happen to know where the control center is? I plan to blow this place off, so I hope you have nothing against it.”

He really hoped so because he couldn’t fight Wesker. Not now, not like this. Maybe he should try so he wouldn’t need to feel guilty afterward, but there was no reason to do it now.

“I expected you to say that.” Wesker sounded smug, as if Leon was playing by his rules, doing just what he wanted. “Find an exit. I’ll activate self-destruct.”

“What?” Leon didn’t mean to say it aloud, but the question slipped out. The more he saw and heard, the more confused he was. He didn’t know why he and Wesker would have a common goal, what it meant to his mission, and how he would explain it in his report.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“There’s no way I can trust you with this,” Leon tried, his hand shaking around the walkie-talkie because the thought of just leaving was so tempting.

“Leon, you’re so predictable,” Wesker sighed. “What about now?”

Before Leon had time to say anything, to argue, the lights in the ceiling turned off, wrapping him in darkness before red colored the hallway. The generic female tone informed him that the beginning of the self-destruction sequence had started, and he had ten minutes to get out of the facility.

Why was it always ten minutes? It was never enough for people to evacuate safely.

“You aren’t running,” the radiophone hummed, and Leon grimaced at it, dropping the device.

He wasn’t working for Wesker, or whatever the man had in his mind. But Leon had to get out, and he knew that he couldn’t leave the way he had come from. The flashing red gave him a headache, his shoulder making him wonder if he should stay and finally be free from this job and pain, but he settled for doing the same thing as always.

Running and trying to save his own skin, knowing that this wasn’t the first or the last time if he didn’t make it to be.

It was still so cold.

Leon leaned on his knees, panting out puffs of breath that fogged up right in front of his face, the sweat already drying and freezing on his skin. He didn’t have his jacket as he had abandoned it a long time ago, and nothing was shielding him from the wind now that the concrete facility wasn’t more than a smoking pile of rubble.

While peering up at the sky and hoping to see a copter meant for him, he wondered how many had managed to get out before the explosion. The hallways had been empty, but he knew that there had been more people alive than him and Wesker. The large snowflakes raining almost horizontally prevented him from seeing far, and he knew that it was useless to wait for a chopper-ride home.

He had to figure out how to stay warm and get into safety, so he wouldn’t die this way after fighting one more BOW and running for his dear life once again.

The adrenaline still didn’t let go of him, the fear of freezing to death keeping him alert and awake. The familiar tingling was already back in his mind, the need to make sure that he was still alive after the peak was over, but he could do nothing to that need in a snowstorm.

The communicator felt cold in his fingers as he pulled it from his belt, the first sounds of static already there as he tried to reach Hannigan, hoping her to know where he could take shelter until they could get through the storm. He should also warn them about a potential infection and accept that he might end up sitting in quarantine once again, the sour consequences that could potentially kill him filling his mind.

But he was nothing but a tool. This way, he could make the world a bit better place and ensure that Sherry had the good life she deserved in the future too.

His shoulder felt stiff and swollen as he raised the communicator closer to his ear, trying to hear something over the wind.

“Han—”

The crash of the breaking device in his fingers hit before the pain reached his nerves.

He yelped as the pieces of plastic pierced his skin, the burn of the bullet grazing his middle finger something he hadn’t expected. “The fuck?”

“We had so much fun that I thought it’d be a pity if you get yourself killed.”

Wesker was so close that Leon could easily distinguish his words, but the layer of snow between them made it difficult to read his expression. The darkness and sunglasses didn’t make it any easier.

Leon barked a laugh, shaking his head and hand, hoping the pain would substitute. Part of him was cracking, losing his cool, but if he let that happen, he’d surely die. “So much fun that you want me to freeze to death?”

After the words they had exchanged via radio, it was bizarre to look at Wesker, to see him so close again. Leon reminded himself that Wesker was an enemy, one of the people he had fought since Raccoon City, but Wesker hadn’t tried to hurt him. On the contrary, even though it made sense only if he was planning something malicious.

Wesker tilted his head slightly, as if noticing Leon’s insufficient clothing for the first time. “Cold won’t kill you.”

“I know that I’m hot, but not that hot,” Leon snarked, trying to keep his teeth from clattering together. “I really needed that ride back home.”

“You should be careful who you trust—”

“Meaning yourself?”

“—because it seems that you lack some crucial information. You’ll be found soon if you don’t make your exit.”

Leon rolled his eyes to cover how sick and tired he felt. “What, are you hoping that I’ll come with you?”

“I’m not. I’m just giving you a friendly warning that you shouldn’t trust your employer if you want to learn what’s going on on your own terms.”

Leon couldn’t help but think of what he had seen inside, how STRATCOM had been shooting at him, though they should have been informed that he was inside. How the place had been full of people with conflicting interests, and how Leon still didn’t remember what had happened before he found himself standing in the rain.

He needed to know more, but he wouldn’t learn anything if he froze to death before it.

“It really seems like you’re worried about my wellbeing.” Leon grinned, trying to see past Wesker’s sunglasses and ignore what he was doing. “Almost like you want to take me home with you.”

“You’d have to beg for it.”

God, did Wesker really have to play along? It made it a hundred times worse. Just like his adrenaline-starved body coming down from the high did as well, almost hoping that he could follow anyone to prove himself that he was still alive.

Yet, he couldn’t succumb to it. Not here, now, or with someone like Wesker.

It would be insanity to even think of it. Were Chris’ interactions with this man like this? It was difficult to believe so, but what did Leon know.

“You’re talking with the wrong kind of guy. That’s not part of my repertoire.”

“I can see that.” It was impossible to say if the tone in Wesker’s voice was amused or not. “But I really have to take my leave. It was a pleasure to meet you, and I hope you don’t get yourself killed before you’ve learned more about your… current state.”

Leon had met Ada many times enough to know that it was useless and nothing if not pathetic to try to delay people like her or Wesker so they’d say more. So he just shrugged, wincing at the pain on his shoulder, the dread numbing his body with the cold.

What if Wesker meant that he was beyond saving, infected, and dangerous for everyone around him?

Leon grimaced, the same fear as when he had been infected by Plaga poking his mind. He felt so helpless, so stupid that he had been careless enough to let the BOW wound him. He had seen nothing but unmoving, dead bodies, but what if it took longer for this virus to affect them? How long did he have?

He wrapped his arms around himself, stuffing his freezing fingers into his armpits so they wouldn’t drop off. Perhaps he was pitiful, or it was part of Wesker’s plan, but he barely realized to grab something large and black that was thrown at him.

It wasn’t thick enough to keep the cold away, but it was better than nothing. Leon swallowed, unsure if it was wise to accept it, but threw Wesker’s coat on his shoulders when the wind against his skin felt like the tiny ice crystals were piercing him.

He wasn’t sure if he should look at Wesker, but Leon glanced at him, seeing a smirk that was too smug for his liking. It was like a slash of a knife, a wound on a face that was so difficult to imagine showing any warmth.

“Thanks,” Leon huffed as he pushed his arms into the sleeves, embarrassed how they were too long for him. “Don’t expect me to return this.”

Wesker didn’t seem to mind the cold in his black turtleneck, nodding once more to Leon before turning on his heels. He really didn’t consider Leon a threat, probably even knowing that he still had bullets left since he had changed for the flamethrower before wasting all of his shots.

Leon pursed his lips, unhappy even though he had gotten the last word. He felt stupid in a coat that the wind was throwing around and wrapping it around his legs, but he couldn’t help but squeeze it tighter against his chest, chasing for warmth that still lingered. It smelled unfamiliar (like danger, if Leon gave himself permission to think that way), its design screamed Wesker, but he wasn’t going to throw it away before he was sure that he’d get somewhere safe and warm.

He hated aftermaths like this, Leon decided once again as he continued to walk in the show, his feet tired and shoulder aching. His muscles felt hot, perhaps infected, but the warmth was welcome as long as it wouldn’t make him feverish and cold in the worst way.

The wind howled around him, the shells of his ears and nose first hurt and then turned numb, but he continued walking towards the nearby village he remembered seeing from the chopper when they arrived.

He needed shelter and something to drink. He wasn’t sure if he had money (or the right kind of currency) on his person, but he’d worry about that when the time came. For now, he had a goal, something that’d keep him alive through the rest of the night while he tried to figure out what to do next.

Infected or not, he wasn’t going to die there.

He found his way into a village without freezing to death. He was exhilarated to realize that the whole place wasn’t full of zombies like those places usually were. A tiny grocery store was already closed, but the bar still open. There were living humans, and no one had started an apocalypse.

People glared at him as he wore a long coat without a hat covering his poor ears, but he was let into the bar, got something to drink, and his dollars weren’t rejected.

“Jaa,” drawled the bartender, probably saying more with the first syllable than the rest of the sentence he continued with, “taas näitä turisteja,” and Leon just nodded and smiled, having no idea what he said but happy enough with the clear alcohol in his glass.

It burned just right that it was enough for him to gather confidence to check his wound in the restroom. As he peeled off his shirt, his heart racing in his chest, he found that the hot and aching skin of his shoulder was— fine. Still red, the skin swollen and taunt on the edges of a scar, but there was no pus, no blood. It looked like it had been healing for a week or two.

Perhaps he hadn’t been hurt as severely as he had thought. Maybe, after everything he had been through, he actually had some luck or a tiny amount of antivirus in his veins, so this hadn’t been enough to kill him.

As he returned to nurture a new drink and try to ignore how the sleeves of Wesker’s coat pooled around his wrists, he kept staring out of the window, watching the snow falling. He could do nothing but wait for a chopper to pick him up from the village before he’d lead something bad there with his presence alone.

Yet, no one seemed to come. Leon pondered on asking to borrow someone’s cell, but something was bothering him, poking the back of his mind, telling him that he shouldn’t. Something was wrong , but he didn’t know what and how to fix it.

A thump made him flinch, his gaze flying up from where he was holding his already-empty glass. As he glanced around, he realized how the place was empty par the bartender, who seemed almost bashful as he took hold of a new chair and turned it around over the table so it’d be easier to wash the floor.

“Pittää sulkea neljältä ettei tarkastajat taas veä hernettä nenään,” the man muttered, avoiding Leon’s gaze as the tilted his head, wondering if he was supposed to understand. “Wii aar klousing.”

“Oh,” Leon said, the world spinning just a bit as he turned to look out at the cloudy sky, still without anyone in sight. “Sorry, I didn’t realize how late it is.”

He had lost his phone, his sense of time warped, the remnants of adrenaline still in his veins.

But just as he was standing up from his chair, the bartender waved his hands to show that he should stay. “Juu häv ä pleis tu sliip?” He asked, pronouncing the words slowly as if Leon was the one who didn’t speak English.

Leon already knew that the village didn’t have a motel, so he shook his head, shrugging to show that it wasn’t so bad. “I’ll manage.”

The bartender looked troubled, his thick eyebrows frowning over his piercing eyes. “Sliip hier. I tink tät thi… no ne tarkastajamiehet dount kam hier bikoos it is sou leit.”

Was he really planning to look a gift horse in the mouth? He couldn’t afford not to accept it.

“Thank you,” Leon breathed out, flashing a smile. “I don’t have much on me, but I’ll pay what I can.”

“Nonsens. Jast… dount tats thi poose.”

He was used to meeting people in bizarre situations, and he knew that he shouldn’t trust anyone working so close to the facility creating bio-organic weapons. But he felt the distant chilliness even when inside, knew that the temperature would keep dropping, and he still wasn’t out of trouble.

“I’m sorry to bother you like this.” Leon stood up and pushed his hand forward. “Leon S. Kennedy.”

The man stared at the hand, looking confused before shrugging, so his messy and partially grayed hair moved on his shoulders. “Kaarle Kutsuvuori. Jast Kaarle for frends.”

If Leon was stupid to trust him, the man was even stupider to trust him in turn. That alone should have turned Leon away, the suspicious friendliness he shouldn’t welcome like this, but he was tired.

So tired, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“Thank you, Kaarle,” Leon hummed, flashing a broader smile that made the man raise his eyebrows. “And goodnight. I can promise that your drinks are safe.” He patted the holster on his side, Kaarle apparently noticed it only now and took a sharp breath.

“Jenkit ja niijen paukkurauat…” the man muttered from under his breath before walking to the door, stopping there to glance back at Leon once more.

Leon waved, keeping his expression sincere until the door was closed, the cold that had slipped in from the doorway gone again. Only then did he drop his smile, the fakeness of it, feeling like there was a countdown ticking down inside him but not knowing what would happen when it hit zero.

There was a temptation to drink more despite what he promised, a stupid thought that maybe it would clear his mind and bring back his memories. But he couldn’t drink at work, not let anyone see him in a worse condition than he already was, so he took the corner table, pulled the coat tighter around him, and closed his eyes.

He needed rest, whatever was waiting for him. He could afford a moment like this.

Too tired to rest, too nervous to relax. The booze in his veins made it easier to deceive himself, lose an hour and then another, the darkness still driven away only by the streetlamps outside.

It was the sudden light that alerted him awake even before the noise.

It was too bright, shining through his closed eyelids like a spotlight. He ducked down instinctively, hid from the bullets and fists of BOWs even though he didn’t know if there was going to be any. He peeked over the edge of the table, hoping that he wouldn’t have to run for his life again.

Begging that he’d be taken home from this cold place that left his body feeling hot and almost feverish. The sound of a ‘copter finally permeated his mind, promising that this would be over. The noise had to fight through the exhaustion that still didn’t let go of him, but it wasn’t a dream.

Yet, it wasn’t just the rotor spinning over and over. It was like a torrent, hard beads of ice raining down, shattering the glass, piercing the wooden furniture, and breaking the bottles behind the bar.

Leon always let everyone down.

The booze fell down the counter like a waterfall, the brown, clear, and colorful liquids mixing up, and he could already imagine his blood adding its own color, making the mess thicker red.

It was useless to pull his gun out; he couldn’t see the people behind the glass of a chopper, the light blinding him. He wouldn’t get a clean shot even if he didn’t still feel the alcohol coursing in his veins and the weight of exhaustion in his limbs.

He had no time to stop thinking about who they were or why they were after him. The only thing he knew was that it wasn’t a coincidence. The chopper was shooting up the local pub that was supposed to be empty.

Cursing, Leon pushed one of the tables to roll from one side of the bar to another, the rain of bullets focusing on it for long enough for him to sprint. His hands squeezed the coat that he grabbed from where he had been sitting, holding it like a lifeline, a symbol of surviving outside when he’d get this far.

The shooting continued, reckless wasting of bullets that never seemed to end. Leon apologized to Kaarle in his mind when he saw the mess as he ran through the bar, all the broken bottles, and kegs making his heart ache. This was why he didn’t have friends. Why he couldn’t afford to accept help from anyone who wasn’t already part of this mess, neck-deep.

He heard the bullets trying to dig through the restroom door as he pulled it shut behind him, but he didn’t have time to worry about the door breaking down. As long as it was just the chopper, he had to hide, be silent, and disappear into the night no matter how dark and cold it was.

It was just like with the lickers. Be quiet, be invisible, and they don’t notice you.

Leon wrapped the coat around his hand to break it through the window, the three layers that kept the cold outside making it more difficult but not impossible. The thick material covered his knuckles until he could throw himself out, already feeling his teeth clattering as his feet sank into the snow.

There would be footsteps to follow. He couldn’t just fly over the hard cover of snow that was still thin enough to break under his every step.

“Gotta keep going,” Leon muttered to himself, his ears straining to hear if the shooting would stop or move when whoever was chasing him would realize that he was gone.

There was no time to panic. No time to focus on the cold seeping through his clothes, into his skin, numbing him so quickly. Part of him wanted to pull the coat on, but it was too long, making walking in the snow even harder, and he didn’t wish to look like Wesker when there were people who were supposed to come to save him.

This wasn’t the worst he had been through.

It was starting to get old soon.

He was tired of the snow. Of cold. Of people shaking their heads at his dollars, and how he didn’t dare to use his credit card though he still had it with him.

Leon was used to surviving, it was all he had been doing since Raccoon City, since he had been recruited to STRATCOM. But this time he couldn’t wait for a moment when he’d get away from the infected city, the facility full of BOWs, a crazy jungle, and an even crazier island.

This time, he could see how everyone kept living their regular lives around him, the life he had lost since killing his first zombie. It was almost like he was the threat, the one endangering these people whose language he couldn’t understand.

After the pub, he had seen the same soldiers more than once, staying on his trail irritably well. He had seen enough to confirm that they weren’t someone trying to make Umbrella great again. They were people who were supposed to be on his side. Seeing the familiar outfits and guns was like a slap on his face, and a few times, he believed he had seen someone he knew.

More than once, he dreamed of showing himself to figure it all out. He had done nothing wrong, wasn’t infected, and had run out of bullets after the third encounter. In this country, no one sold guns or ammo, not in the small and even tinier villages he found himself wandering, and it would have been easier to stop running than sleep where he could, wondering when his toes or fingers would drop off.

Maybe he was stupid to be so stubborn about keeping hiding, about keeping running. But something was bothering him, the doubts echoing in his mind like a ball ricocheting from in the flipper, yet never dropping, so the game wasn’t over.

Sometimes he wondered if he had gone crazy, but he knew that this was something else than only his imagination. Something real, something wicked, and even though he had kept the black coat with him, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was Wesker’s doing.

The man had been too friendly with him. He had helped Leon, for fuck’s sake, and if that wasn’t a red flag, nothing was.

…He couldn’t have taken over STRAT, the government, the whole US? 

It was a stupid thought, the newspapers he saw hanging in front of a supermarket didn’t seem to mention the US or any catastrophe, just some headlines he couldn’t understand, about some old frog-faced old fogie called ‘Vayrynen’. If things were going south, someone would contact him somehow, right? It hadn’t been for too long since Leon met Claire, since he made sure that he was free of Plaga.

Or was he? He thought so, but he still didn’t remember what had happened after it. Everything felt like a web of lies, and if he just found the one stray thread, he could unravel it all.

If he just found a way to contact Wesker and squeeze the truth out of him, no matter how impossible it sounded even in his mind. His life was full of impossible things and creatures that weren’t supposed to exist in the first place, so maybe it wasn’t the craziest idea he had come up with.

He was almost smiling while thinking of it, wondering how he’d distinguish lies from truths, but a silent yet noticeable sound right of him made him scramble on his legs, taking a step back and pulling out a gun. No one but him knew it was empty.

“I almost lost you.”

Leon put the gun away as soon as she heard the words, recognized the voice, and knew that it didn’t matter whether he had bullets or not, not against Ada.

“But not quite.”

Would it be stupid to ask what Ada was doing here?

…Yeah, it would be, so he settled for something else. “I can’t outrun you even if I tried.”

“But you wouldn’t do that,” Ada continued, taking a step closer. She was wearing a long gray coat decorated with fur, a sliver of red dress visible just over her boots that reached high on her slender legs.

Leon ignored her clothes. Once glancing at the deep brown, he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Ada’s eyes which looked at him differently than usual. They looked curious, tentative, almost doubtful, and Leon couldn’t help but imagine that this was how Ada had looked at him when they had met in Raccoon City for the first time.

“Do I look that bad?” Leon asked, trying not to let his exhaustion show. “I thought you like me even when covered in blood and after sloshing in sewers, and this shouldn’t come as a surprise.”

Ada didn’t smile. “You have Wesker’s coat.”

“Uh.” Leon looked down, too tired to come up with anything clever. “It’s cold.”

It was the only reason, really. It was better to have something unfitting than steal from those who had done nothing to him. It wasn’t their fault that he was in trouble, and he already feared that he had left corpses behind while escaping the people on his tail. They hadn’t checked if Leon was alone in the pub. They never seemed to care if he was alone or not.

“Is that so,” Ada hummed, her gaze dragging down and back up Leon’s body that drowned into the black fabric. “You do know that he calls you a lapdog?”

Leon opened his mouth, wanting to ask what Ada called him, but perhaps the cold had frozen some part of his brain. “The government’s or your lapdog?”

Ada smiled, her red lips pursing before she talked. “Both, I think. Though you know how to defy my wishes.”

“Not only yours.” Leon shook his head, leaning on the wall and knowing that he wouldn’t stay in his current hideout much longer. “I’m sure you know better than me what’s going on. Can you… do anything?”

He didn’t want to owe Ada one more, but they were already standing on a pile of favors they both had done, and Leon wasn’t sure which one was losing.

“Not yet. I don’t know enough.” Her expression was unreadable, all professional again. Leon hated it when he didn’t know if she lied.

“Wesker knows everything,” Leon said against his better judgment. “He was in the facility as well, saying all kinds of stuff I didn’t get. I wondered…”

Fuck, this was a mistake. The biggest one he could make.

Ada tilted her head, stalking closer but not touching him. “Leon?”

“I lost my phone and comms, but I want to have a way to contact him if I have no other way to figure out what’s going on before I’ll get shot.” It sounded terrible even in his own ears. He was never supposed to be in a situation like that. “And you know how to reach him.”

“Leon, you don’t want that.” Ada’s lips were a thin line as she took a deep breath. “I can’t trust you to know how to handle him.”

Leon couldn’t stop a snort of despair from leaving him. He knew that Ada had done nothing to deserve his anger (or she had done everything to deserve it, but not now), but he was tired of being afraid. “Are you afraid that he’ll use me like you plan to? Wesker would have already killed me if he wanted to.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m afraid of,” Ada sighed but pulled the front of her coat open to show off more red dress and skin, the fingers covered with black gloves picking up something from her pocket. “He told me to kill you back in Spain. But well, you’re a big boy. Just don’t come crawling back to me.”

Despite her words, she winked and offered a phone to him. Leon tried not to get stuck thinking about how Ada had saved him in Spain instead of killing him, defying Wesker’s orders.

He took the phone and felt the fading warmth of Ada’s skin on it. He flashed a dry smile back at her. “It’s nice to know that you’re worried about me.”

“Can’t lose my best agent,” Ada chuckled, but her eyes didn’t look at Leon. Her gaze went right through him. “So, one last gift for tonight.”

She leaned closer, close enough to breathe the same cold air, and Leon thought back to the cable car in Raccoon City, how she had wanted to shut him up, make him forget that he had any questions in the first place.

This time, she pressed her chilly lips on his cheek, probably leaving a smudge of her lipstick there. “They already know where you are. You have less than an hour to change your position, or you’ll be caught.”

It left Leon feeling even colder, his whole body feeling heavier. He nodded, knowing that he had no other choice than to run again, stretch thin like he had done so many times, but now he wasn’t sure if there was a way to come back from this disaster.

It was almost like when he was taken in, interrogated, forced to adjust his way of living into something he wasn’t ready to face. Not so soon, not so completely, though there had been nothing else waiting for him either.

“Thanks, Ada,” he muttered, letting Ada pull back. There were no goodbyes, there never were, just her retreating steps, and then Leon was alone again.

He was used to being alone, always facing the horrors of life alone, but it left him feeling hollow.

It wasn’t like anyone was waiting for him back at home, but that was where he should head. He had nothing here, contacting Wesker was the last straw that he hoped he wouldn’t have to grasp, and he had his friends back home.

As soon as he found a way to get back to the States, he could form a new plan.

The phone in his pocket burned his skin, but Leon wasn’t going to be that weak. He had checked it through, found only Wesker’s number, and decided not to try to use the phone to call anyone else, though the numbers he couldn’t forget kept hitting his skull like a tyrant’s fist.

He wasn’t going to contact Wesker, not really. Not yet, at least. He would need to have something to bet in the gamble that it was, something to offer that wouldn’t hurt the people around him or cause any new apocalypses. Just because Wesker knew something didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be others ready to tell Leon the truth and help him.

Even if he was infected, only waiting for the final judgment, there were people who’d be ready to fight for him. He wasn’t alone, but he couldn’t endanger anyone from a foreign continent yet.

It’d be something to worry about later because now he couldn’t get lost in his head. Even though there wasn’t BOW ready to rip him into tiny pieces, he would be in trouble if he was caught.

Leon pulled the peaked cap decorated with an airline company’s logo deeper into his head, trying to look like he was one of the airport workers. As long as he kept his steps sure, acted busy, and looked unwelcoming like many people around him did, he hoped that no one would question who he was.

Avoiding everyone’s gaze, he used the piles of suitcases as his cover, as his excuse. He had learned a long time ago that people who didn’t seem to belong in the scene were the suspicious ones, but as soon as he had a uniform and acted confident, he could fit anywhere.

Sometimes he couldn’t blame people like Ada and Wesker, who manipulated and cheated people as it was so easy. It was wrong, but if it didn’t cause anything bad, could it even be avoided?

Sometimes lying kept the people safer than revealing everything that happened in this cursed world.

He already knew that it would get chilly in the hold during the long hours, hating how he had been forced to discard Wesker’s jacket both for his disguise and safety when he’d be back in the States. If someone thought he worked for Wesker, things wouldn’t improve from how bad they already were.

Better not to turn bad to worse, as it often happened without trying.

Leon couldn’t relax before the hatch had closed, only darkness around him besides one green exit light on the other end of the hold. He sighed, leaning his head against a large container, and closed his eyes. The sounds of domestic animals, some angry poodle yapping, and a few more joining it would have been even more irritating if he ever could sleep on a plane.

He was too used to private flights or first class. He deserved something fancy in his life, but once again, he wondered if any of it was worth it.

Fighting to save people and failing again and again. Almost getting mauled by a BOW only to get killed by the hail of gunfire from a chopper. He was so tired of running, and he wanted to trust that Sherry wouldn’t be thrown into wolves whatever he’d choose to do.

Would breaking the contract he had singled for life be worse than what he was doing now, even if he’d be haunted and shot in sight?

“You’re overthinking again,” Leon huffed, closing his eyes.

He had people who needed him. People who he needed and wasn’t going to turn his back on them. He’d stay, continue as before as soon as this mess was sorted out. He had seen so much death that the only way to keep his head together was to keep fighting against it, hoping that he’d manage to beat the bad guys one day.

Though he couldn’t have made himself kill Ada and would refuse to do that wherever life would throw them. And now, after he had left the black coat behind and already regretted it, he wasn’t sure if he could kill Wesker either, at least as long as he didn’t see the pile of corpses the man left behind.

He didn’t want to see anyone dying. He just wanted to help, but the more he tried, the more impossible it felt.

He was tired. As soon as he got back to the country where he understood people, back home, he’d be fine.

As long as he could keep his head together and not worry about how his acquaintances were ordered to kill him, he was all fine.

If it was easy to get into the plane, it was a pain to get out without being detected while avoiding security.

Leon still had his passport and other necessary documents, but he didn’t want to be spotted before knowing what was going on. His way out included many locks picked open, more than half an hour spent in several hiding places because he didn’t want to hurt anyone. And finally, lying through his teeth to get out and not be part of the crew going for drinks and asking him along without anyone knowing who he was.

But when he was standing outside the airport, the familiar hum of traffic around him and free from snow and cold, he didn’t feel much better.

A long time ago, he would have trusted people around him enough to walk into his office and ask what the fuck was going on. He would have trusted the authorities he had wanted to be part of, helping and defending citizens. Now he knew how corrupted the government was, how it was too dangerous to trust anyone who hadn’t proved themselves in front of his eyes again and again.

Perhaps he trusted the wrong people (Ada. He trusted Ada though he shouldn’t and it would kill him sooner or later), but he had gotten his fingers burned often enough not to be able to give his life for the president, for this country, when it would mean only more deaths.

Walking away and keeping his head down, Leon fished the phone from his pocket and turned it on, the nervous energy bubbling inside him as he knew that the one number saved in it was Wesker’s.

It was like Ada had known. Ada must have known, and though it worried him, Leon pushed the paranoia away. He wasn’t going to contact Wesker because he had a better idea.

He was lucky to remember the number, but he had known how easily his life came to this, how forgetting wasn’t always an option.

Making sure that no one was in earshot, watching or listening or wanting something of him anytime soon, he made the call. It wasn’t the first time that listening to the line had made him nervous, but it didn’t stop his teeth from sinking into his cheek so he could taste iron on his tongue.

He wanted Claire to answer. He needed to hear her voice.

He wanted this to work so that he didn’t have to betray anyone by contacting Wesker and paying the price. Maybe he should really risk getting killed before doing that if this wouldn’t work. Trusting Ada didn’t mean that he could forget what they had done, what Wesker had done, how Chris and Jill looked while talking about him—

“Redfield.”

Leon— wanted to cry. The wave of relief was so strong that he fell to lean against the wall. “Claire, thank god.”

She must have heard how tired he sounded but didn’t comment on it. “...Leon. Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Leon replied instinctively before managing to stop himself. It was the only answer for a question like that, though none of them were all right ever again. “I just need information about something.”

Was it safe to tell her over the phone? He didn’t know who could be listening.

“Of course. Are you already back from Europe?”

So she knew about that. It was just as confidential as everything else Leon did, so she must be up-to-date with much more. “Soon enough.” Better to be careful, but... “Can we meet?”

Claire sighed, an uncharacteristic huff of breath that seemed to never end. “Sure.” There was a sound in the background, something Leon couldn’t distinguish, but he wondered if Claire was nervous too. Or if someone was there with her, threatening her just like they had threatened to take Leon’s life?

“I don’t want to cause you any trouble.” Leon tried to find something from his brain that would tell Claire that he knew things might be wrong. A sign that they both could understand. “If you’ve got a stalker in a trenchcoat or his employer is bugging you, we can delay this.”

“Oh god, Leon.” She let out a sound that was half chuckle, half something painful, and Leon could almost see as she shook her head. “I’m fine. Really. You have enough to worry about without me.”

So she knew something.

“When do you want to meet?” Her tone was fake, too happy, too light. Something was wrong; Leon didn’t have to see her to know it.

He tried to sort out everything in his tired mind. How much cash he had, which transportation options he had, how much longer it would take when he tried to stay invisible. Yet, he didn’t want to delay this any longer than he had to. Better to take risks than wait for something worse to happen. If something happened to Claire, first Chris would kill him, then Leon would do it again himself. “Tomorrow? The same place where we met before?”

That shouldn’t tell anyone too much. The cafe wasn’t something they met each other often.

Claire was quiet for a moment. “Too public. Four blocks to the South should do. There’s…” she paused, and Leon couldn’t help but imagine that she was getting instructions from someone else.

But Claire cared about him. They were on the same side. She’d give him a sign if she was in trouble, but there was nothing, not even a joke about Leon’s question about the tyrant. Maybe she had help, but they couldn’t reveal it to potential listeners?

“There’s an abandoned Italian restaurant. Tomorrow, at four?”

Leon had a bad feeling, but he couldn’t pinpoint where it came from. He couldn’t nail it down, so he didn’t know what he should change in their plan. Probably he was just paranoid after being on the run longer than his mind could take it, but seeing Clarie would help. Her smile always helped, it had helped him even in the middle of the hell called the Raccoon City incident.

“Deal. It feels like it’s been forever since we met.”

“Though I’m not sure if we’ve ever met this often.” There was a smile in Claire’s voice, and Leon couldn’t stop his own lips curling up, even though the feeling that gave him goosebumps was still there.

“We could make this a habit if we wanted, but it’s dangerous to get used to something this good.”

Claire exhaled sharply. “Yeah. Right. But… we’ll see tomorrow.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” And he meant it.

Leon’s steps were lighter as he got closer to the place he was supposed to meet Claire at.

He had cursed more times than he could count about how he was used to having either a GPS or a map, reminding himself that he was supposed to be able to navigate around even without any additional aid. If he couldn’t find the right place in a relatively familiar city without his phone, how was he supposed to survive in a rural area full of BOWs?

He should have focused more on what he was doing, more on his surroundings, but the knowledge of seeing someone familiar and getting some sense into the situation felt so much more pressing than anything else. The impatient thrill made his steps faster, his whole body almost shaking.

Claire would know what to do. She was so much like her brother: both stubborn, headstrong, and making people around them feel better by only their presence. Leon was so used to working alone and focusing on his goal that someone watching his back, helping him keep his head on the mission, was rare but invaluable.

He was almost jealous of people working with either Claire or Chris. Almost, because anyone in this endless war against BOWs wasn’t lucky or deserved their fate.

The exhaustion was still weighing down on his shoulders as he had stayed awake at the back of a truck after getting lucky and managing to hitchhike, but now it felt like there was something better ahead. He could continue running on adrenaline as long as he knew that the need to escape and keep moving would end sooner rather than later.

He needed this. He needed this hope.

If Claire couldn’t help him, there’d be only bad options left, and Leon wasn’t sure which one of them he should try first. Perhaps Claire could shake some sense into him and tell him to delete that one number he had in the phone Ada had given him, so he wouldn’t be weak and stupid.

The street was empty but bathed in the afternoon sunlight, making Leon feel better as he kept his steps quiet against the asphalt. There was no sign of Claire, not yet, but he didn’t expect her to stand in the middle of the street waiting for him when either Leon or they both weren’t safe.

As he checked the time from his phone, finding relief from the fact that he could call Claire if she didn’t show up, something moved in his peripheral. Leon turned on his heels, his hand moving to grab the gun that he had left behind to make sure he’d get into the plane. His gaze moved from one place to another, knowing that he wasn’t just imagining things. He had seen something, but the question was if it was an actual threat or just a pigeon.

The silence wrapped around him, the traffic so loud from the other side of the river dividing the city. It felt like the silence tried to suffocate him, push his heart out of his chest, the shivers running up his spine even when he felt how he was sweating.

He had no gun. He was weaponless, out in the open, a sitting duck. He had almost tasted bullets that had been shot at him countless times over the last few weeks. His mind and body screamed that he was in danger, that he had to flee when he couldn’t fight, but he had to know that Claire was safe. He had to help her if he could.

The front of the Italian restaurant was just in front of him, the stickers telling the place’s name on the windows that were covered with cardboard from inside. Leon’s hand fell onto the handle almost instinctively, pressed it down, his heart skipping a beat when he pulled the door slowly open.

It was dark inside, the dust floating in the air as if someone had already disturbed its peace. Leon blinked, tried to see into the darkness, searched for Claire or someone else. The sound of his own heart covered every other sound, but his eyes got used to the dim light quickly. A few swipes of his gaze over the place were enough for him to see something that didn’t belong to the scene.

Footprints. More than one, more than two pairs of heavy boots.

Turning on his heels, he jumped backward, heart, lungs, and all other organs in his throat as the floor splintered from the bullets where he had been standing a split second before.

“I know I’m popular, but you could have just asked!”

Leon’s hand searched for his gun uselessly, his head unable to wrap itself around the fact that someone had been waiting for him, that he was still in danger. He needed to fight, defend himself from this, and make it end, but he couldn’t.

Just like he couldn’t save anyone, he couldn’t escape how he was the one wanted dead.

If he was stupid, he could stay there, grab a plank with a rusty nail if he was lucky to find one, and see what these people wanted, but he knew it was useless. He had been shot before he had time to raise a hand, and these people would shoot first and save the questions for the autopsy.

He wasn’t safe even here, but he wasn’t ready to stop thinking about how this had happened. Not yet, or he wouldn’t be able to save his own skin.

He was so fucking tired of running, but it was all he had. Suddenly the emptiness of the streets felt deliberate. The space between buildings was too wide, too open, but he did what he could. The bullets followed him, a team of soldiers moving from inside to take new firing positions, and Leon could do nothing but use his knowledge to avoid the shots and escape.

The sound of a helicopter somewhere above, the roll of wheels on the streets, the rain of bullets around him. And he could do nothing but run.

He had survived so many times already. He had killed countless BOWs. Was this how the government decided to pay him!?

The tight turns he took left his arms bruised and decorated with scratches, and the way his feet hammered the street left his bones aching, but he couldn’t stop. Even when a bullet tore its way through his clothes, sinking into his arm just under his shoulder and leaving him staggering from the sudden pain, he forced his body to continue.

Every step, motion, and breath were possible because he was so full of adrenaline, fighting for his life once again.

He hated it, hated how he was running the enemy he didn’t know, how lost he was.

How he had been found, how the only person who had known where they were supposed to meet was Claire.

Eventually, the sound of gunshots stopped. He wasn’t sure how he got away, only that he had stolen a bike, trying not to leave a trail of blood behind. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. The stubborn tears were more and more difficult to swallow down, though he couldn’t break down now, or he’d be dead.

He wasn’t sure where he was, the empty alleyway between the abandoned warehouses, the bike that wasn’t his leaning against the same wall that was the only thing keeping him upright. He should scout the area, make sure that he had managed to escape and was alone, but only the thought made something inside him twist painfully.

His whole body was aching, the pain so strong he could feel it in his teeth. He couldn’t move his fingers properly, nor his arm that had been shot, but he wasn’t dripping blood onto the ground anymore. He was still standing, so the bullet hadn’t hit the artery.

It felt like he’d die if he had to take one more step without knowing when this would end. He needed a plan, but his thoughts were a mess, the cold sweat of fear making him shiver.

…Would it be easier to die, to give up, to decide that he had done enough—

“You got farther than I imagined. Congratulations.”

Leon jerked his head up, but even that action was delayed. He saw the black shape against the end of the alleyway, not seeing much more than the long coat that made him look larger, but that, combined with the voice he already knew, was more than enough.

“Is this your doing, Wesker?”

He was too exhausted to be afraid anymore, everything in his vision still sharp, ready to shatter when he’d run out of the rest of the adrenaline.

“I have nothing to do with this, but I don’t expect you to believe it,” Wesker said, and something in his tone made Leon wonder if Wesker regretted something. If the man was even capable of feeling that emotion, would it be audible in his voice just because Wesker hoped that Leon would be already dead?

He couldn’t use his precious time to think about it right now. “Whatever you say.”

It wasn’t like he knew anything anymore. He didn’t know who to believe, who to trust, who to listen to because Claire had—

Wesker walked closer, the sunglasses covering his eyes and making his expression unreadable as always. “I have an offer for you.”

“Of course you have,” Leon choked out, wondering if the sensation tickling his throat was laughter or a wail of despair. Whatever it was, he couldn’t afford to show it. “Something I can’t refuse and that I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”

“I see you have a penchant for dramatics,” Wesker hummed, and Leon wanted to punch his face.

He sneered, focusing on the anger inside him so he wouldn’t break down there and then. “From what I’ve learned from Chris about you, I’m not alone.”

Something moved over Wesker’s face, a sliver of emotion that the dark lenses or a cold smirk on his thin lips couldn’t hide. “I see you really imagine that you’re one of them. They aren’t your friends anymore, Leon.”

Leon didn’t understand any of it, but he wasn’t going to listen to those words dropping from Wesker’s lips and believe that they were true. He tried to push the intrusive thoughts away (was he too different, had he done something wrong, hadn’t he fought enough?) and scrambled to stand against the wall. “Neither are you.”

“Neither am I,” Wesker repeated with a nod. “But unlike someone else, I think it’d be a pity to see you die.”

“You told Ada to kill me back in Spain.”

As if Leon’s life mattered when Wesker had killed so many more, taken the lives of countless citizens who deserved none of it.

“I told Ada to kill an agent she held too close to her heart. Not that it could have been one-sided, she couldn’t have fulfilled her mission and gotten the samples alone.” Wesker shrugged, moving to lean against the wall next to Leon.

It made him look somehow less threatening; he wasn’t that much taller than Leon, the unhappy furrows on the corners of his mouth revealing how rarely he smiled, his hair and clothes perfect, but Wesker himself somehow still so human.

Even though Leon knew that there hadn’t been anything human in Wesker for years.

“What do you want?” Leon sighed, clenching his jaw and knowing that he wouldn’t be able to fight even if he wanted.

“For you to work for me,” Wesker said, his tone different.

Leon turned to stare at him, wondering if it was Wesker’s version of a joke. He had no idea if the man had a sense of humor in the first place.

Wesker glanced at him over the edge of his sunglasses, and Leon met the narrow pupils and yellow hue of Wesker’s eyes for the first time. It was a refreshing reminder that Wesker wasn’t a human, that he had decided to become something else as he had betrayed Chris and the whole STARS team.

Just like Leon feared that Claire had betrayed him, leaving him to die.

“Doing what? Writing down who in the black market you sold what and kidnapping new victims for you?” Leon wasn’t supposed to play along, not even this much, but what else could he do? He was stuck in that alleyway, the pursuers probably somewhere close, and he could feel how wet his arm and the sleeve covering it still were from his blood.

“Destroying facilities with faulty security measures that would let something loose sooner or later,” Wesker said as if it wasn’t a big deal.

As if it wasn’t what Leon was already doing. The cold fingers wrapped around his lungs and squeezed, the exhaustion making his knees almost buckle.

“I don’t expect you to answer right away.” Wesker sounded like he knew precisely what Leon was thinking, how weak he was when he hadn’t blurted out a refusal right away. “First, we need to get you somewhere safe.”

“We?”

The corner of Wesker’s lips twitched. “You need my help. I have one of my safehouses nearby, and I expect you not to fight me before you can stand on your own two feet.”

The more Wesker talked, the weirder it was. Leon was wounded and helpless, this was Wesker’s perfect opportunity to end him for good. There was no need to drag him elsewhere when only a well-aimed punch or kick would end him.

The way Wesker was acting was against everything Leon had heard about him, and it didn’t make it any easier to trust the information he had learned from the people he had considered to be his friends. It was like a bizarre fever dream, another life that wasn’t his after he had given his whole existence to save as many as he could.

“I’m not agreeing to do anything for you,” Leon grunted and glared at Wesker.

“But?”

“But I hope you got a ride because I’m not walking.”

The bullet falling on the bathroom counter from the hold of the tweezers left Leon leaning against the wall behind him, the pain still pulsing in his wound, bleeding into his body and making him want to scream aloud. He was panting, cold sweat trying to drip past his eyebrows, but he kept fighting against the darkness that stalked on the edges of his vision.

Pressing the palm of his unwounded hand and a towel against the bullet hole, he tried to ignore the heat under his fingers. It reminded him of how his shoulder had felt after those long claws had sliced his skin open; it made him think of infections and where he knew them to lead.

He didn’t want to turn. Anything else, even death, but he wouldn’t turn into one of the monsters he had fought to save civilians for years.

“I hope you’re still alive.”

Wesker’s voice made Leon jerk, the startle running through him and leaving him to stare at the closed bathroom door. He tried to ignore how the color of the towel was darker than what he was used to seeing, telling himself that it was just a trick of lighting because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to control his quickened breathing.

“You remind me of Ada. You don’t want me to die in your arms.” He wasn’t sure why he said it, but even if he regretted pulling Ada into it again, he couldn’t help but think of how it really seemed like that.

Though whatever he and Ada had wasn’t something that had been born from nothing. Raccoon City had changed everyone who had been there. Wesker was supposed to be different, he had no reason not to want Leon dead. They hadn’t met before, they owed nothing to each other. The fact that Leon was bleeding all over the bathroom floor of Wesker’s safehouse was nothing if not absurd, especially considering that Wesker wasn’t the one who had wounded Leon.

As Leon reached for the bandage and tried to ignore the heat of his skin, he wondered if he was delaying the inevitable. Now that he was there, he should try to find the answers to the situation he had found himself in. He should take what he could get, hope that Wesker wouldn’t change his mind about keeping Leon alive, and then leave.

He had fraternized with the enemy already enough for many lifetimes, and even though Ada was who she was, Wesker was a villain of another tier. Wherever there was an outbreak, the man was somehow part of it, always on the side that led to the deaths of countless people.

But was there any way to get answers out of Wesker? Was Leon allowed to leave in the first place? He had no choice but to find out.

When he was sure that Wesker wasn’t standing outside the door anymore, apparently not bothering to reply after making sure that Leon hadn’t died in the bathtub, he forced his body to move. He washed the blood away, knew that he couldn’t just get rid of the towel, so he stuffed it under everything else in the half-empty garbage pin on the corner.

Was he really infected? How long would it take that he’d turn? Or was this just his mind playing tricks because it didn’t feel like his body was rotting away. Some part of him wondered if it would be better if he ended it all, bit the bullet from the gun he had used to kill so many, but he was too stubborn, still too hopelessly optimistic even after everything he had gone through.

The heat radiating from his arm made him feel sick as he considered if he should wear his old and bloody clothes or be cooperative and wear whatever Wesker had dumped on his arms before Leon had escaped behind the bathroom’s locked door. He settled for something clean, grimacing how the pants slipped past his hips without a belt keeping them up.

Before daring to step out, already fearing what he would face outside, he glanced at the mirror. He looked the same as always after working too hard and not sleeping enough; the exhaustion looked almost gray on his skin, and his still wet hair hanging over his eyes made him feel as downhearted as it did every time. Yet, he didn’t expect Wesker to keep a hairdryer in his safehouse, only hair gel.

He tore his gaze from his miserable face, turning to open the lock. It felt like he was still in danger, a BOW or two waiting for him on the other side of the door. The fact that Wesker wasn’t a human didn’t make it any better, Leon knowing that if he forgot that Wesker was a threat, he’d be dead— or worse.

As much as he wanted to either leave or pretend to be sleeping just to see if Wesker tried to kill him in his sleep, the scent in the air made his body have other thoughts.

Fuck, he hadn’t realized how hungry he was, and his feet decided to take him where the scent was coming, knowing that it was probably a trap. What kind of a trap it happened to be was the only question.

It didn’t matter. It was all worth it as Leon slid to sit on one of three chairs, grabbed the fork before realizing that his body was moving, and sank it into the steak on his plate.

It didn’t taste like a human (whatever human tastes like), and it was something else than Leon’s cooking that was made of creativity and ended up as a disaster more often than not. He was stupid to give up so easily, but he wasn’t sure if he could stop if he tried, the hunger so strong it almost made him dizzy.

…Was he infected, after all? Did it start like this?

From the corner of his eye, he saw how Wesker sat down as well, tilting his head as he observed Leon from behind those cursed dark glasses. “I knew that you’d be hungry after getting shot.”

Those two things weren’t supposed to be connected, the words made Leon more nervous, and he had only one way to cover it. “Wouldn’t have known you to be such a mother hen.”

Wesker made a sound of distaste. “Please, don’t.”

“What?” Leon swallowed his mouth empty and finally took a proper look at Wesker. The leather coat was finally gone, his button-up’s sleeves rolled up to his elbows, long fingers of his left hand drumming the surface of the table soundlessly. His hair was still slicked back, and Leon couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he reached to ruin that. “Already regretting kidnapping me?”

“I think that the proper phrase would be saving you. I didn’t imagine you would be the one to twist this into something that this isn’t.”

Leon sighed, poking the last piece of steak on his plate. Pissing Wesker off wouldn’t help him if he wanted answers. “I still have trouble wrapping my head around all this.”

He swallowed, knowing that he shouldn’t be eating in Wesker’s kitchen and certainly not food he had prepared. It felt wrong, almost perverted in the worst way. It felt as if Leon was the one who betrayed his friends and not the other way around, but now that he did this, it was his own fault.

“Sorry.” It wasn’t easy to say, but seeing Wesker’s eyebrow rising towards his hairline was worth it.

Then, a smirk appeared on his lips, and Leon regretted it immediately. “You must be tired of all that useless running. I have errands to run, so you don’t have to stay awake for me.”

It felt like Leon was brushed aside so suddenly that he didn’t even realize it before Wesker stood up and took a few steps towards the door.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise; they weren’t allies, Wesker owed him nothing and was probably plotting something unsavory to Leon’s detriment. Yet, he wasn’t ready to let the only source of answers just walk out of the door.

The chair clattered onto the floor as Leon surged up, sprinting the short distance to get to the front door before Wesker. He tried to ignore how Wesker’s eyes flared behind his sunglasses, the sudden redness making Leon’s fingers twitch as he couldn’t deny how much he missed his gun. How helpless he felt without a weapon, the knife he had used to cut the steak earlier felt almost like a toy in his pocket where he had stuffed it.

“Move aside,” Wesker said, his jaw clenching as Leon tried to stand as tall as he could. 

“I need some answers.” He deserved them, for fuck’s sake. “Now.”

“Do you think that can make me talk?” Wesker asked, his smile cold and voice low and dangerous. “You know that knowledge is power, and answers don’t come for free.”

Leon knew it, but he had nothing to give. Nothing he was ready to give, nothing he hadn’t already lost. “I won’t agree to do anything before I know what’s going on.”

“I don’t expect you to.” The way Wesker talked was infuriating; it was apparent that he knew that Leon could do nothing to hurt him, that he had all the cards when Leon had lost his hand a long time ago. “I just happened to have time in my hands for you. Call it curiosity.”

“What if I leave?”

“You’re free to do so.” Wesker shrugged. “I haven’t locked the door.”

Leon saw what Wesker was doing, he could taste it on his tongue. The bitterness of how he had no one, how he was either alone or in Wesker’s mercy. Either he played with Wesker’s rules or there wasn’t a game at all, and he had already seen where that would lead him. He wasn’t the one to break when the first or tenth setback faced him, but he wasn’t sure for how long he could continue entirely alone.

His past loneliness felt ridiculous now that he wasn’t sure if he had anyone anymore.

Wesker knew it, and he was using it to reel Leon in, talk him over into something, and use him as everyone had done. The US government, Krauser, even Ada.

Fuck, did Wesker know about Krauser? He knew about Ada, so of course he knew about Krauser.

Leon couldn’t think of the dead man who had meant something to him just yesterday, it felt. He wasn’t stopping to think of the past, not now, preferable never again. The wound was still so fresh, the pain of everything that had happened still lingering in his mind, and Leon couldn’t lose the rest of himself. Not even when the only people who didn’t shoot him on sight were his enemies.

He knew that he had been standing there for too long, been lost inside his head all that time, but Wesker was still there. Watching him, observing him like a new kind of specimen, his head tilted slightly and reminding Leon of a predator that wondered when would be the right time to attack. There was still tension in his posture, but the redness of his eyes was gone.

“I don’t know what you’re planning, but I know you leave me hanging on purpose. You know something, but you don’t want to reveal it before you have what you want.”

It was such a weak argument, but Leon was tired. He just wanted to forget what his life had become in the last ten years.

Wesker was so hard to read, his angled face and sharp cheekbones like a weapon itself. “And what is it that I want?”

“Who knows,” Leon huffed and took a step aside, knowing that he couldn’t stop Wesker from leaving. He wanted the man out, to have some time alone, but he wasn’t sure if Wesker would really come back. Maybe it’d be better if he didn’t. “What do people usually want from me?”

“You tell me.” Wesker grabbed his coat, and before Leon had time to tell him anything, he was already gone.

It was his chance to run, to disappear from Wesker’s radar, if it was possible in the first place. Leon glanced towards the kitchen island, his empty plate, and the door leading to the bathroom behind it.

He knew that if Wesker wanted, he’d find Leon again. Just like Ada always did. So perhaps it was better to play nice for now, wait for his answers to return, and after feeling better again, fight for them.

“Chris’ll kill me if Wesker mutates,” he said aloud to fill the silence. He had no idea how Wesker’s physiology actually worked, if it was a risk to wound him in the first place, but Leon had never been one to play safe.

It was why he was in this cursed situation in the first place, after all.

Leon blinked his eyes open, staring at the ceiling he didn’t recognize. He wasn’t surprised because he didn’t instantly know where he was but because he felt rested. Like he had slept for hours without nightmares and waking up every hour, and he wasn’t sure if it made him feel giddy or worried.

It wasn’t like him. Especially because he wasn’t safe. He might not have been alone, he didn’t know where Wesker was—

Throwing the sheets aside, Leon scrambled onto his feet, instinctively trying to find something he could use as a weapon. He wasn’t sure what to think of the lack of pain in his arm, knowing that a bullet hole wouldn’t heal itself during one night no matter how well he had slept.

He found the clothes he had used yesterday folded over the back of a chair (not on the floor where he had left them), and it spurred him only to move faster. As he managed to pull the waistband of his pants over his hips, he turned to reach for a belt and froze in place to stare at Wesker, who was casually leaning against the doorframe.

His smile looked more sincere than yesterday, but it still lacked warmth. “In a hurry?”

“Thought you wouldn’t appreciate finding my half-naked ass in the kitchen.” Leon wasn’t sure if he should keep dressing and how fast, so he did nothing, standing there and holding the pants on him awkwardly.

“I wouldn’t have minded.” Wesker shrugged, and no matter how much Leon squinted, he couldn’t tell if it was a joke, suggestion, or just a statement.

“So,” Leon cleared his throat, finally snatching the belt from the chair. “When did you come back?”

“Early enough to see you sleep like a baby. Vulnerable and helpless.”

It sounded like a threat. And Leon knew only one way to deal with threats while saving his face and hiding the fear that was always inside him. “I hope that seeing me like that doesn’t turn you on because humans need sleep. If you have forgotten.”

Wesker’s expression turned smug, and Leon knew that he had made a mistake, though he wasn’t sure what exactly. There were too many alternatives.

“I remember just as well as you do.” Wesker turned on his heels. “But good to see that you’re doing better.”

It felt so unnatural that Leon couldn’t do more than blink a few times, wondering why people like Wesker needed BOWs when they could kill people like Leon by only acting so unpredictably and out of character. It was like Wesker was doing that on purpose, throwing Leon off the loop again and again until he wouldn’t stay on his feet.

Leon pulled his shirt on before following Wesker out of the bedroom. Only then did he realize that there was only one bed, the other side of it untouchable, and it meant that Wesker had taken a couch or he hadn’t slept at all. After his earlier words, Leon wouldn’t know which one was more probable.

“For how long do you plan to keep me in the dark?” Leon asked as he leaned on the counter, reaching for orange juice.

A domestic breakfast with Wesker. He wasn’t infected, he was delusional.

“Until I figure out what you really are capable of doing.”

“What?” Leon almost choked on his juice. “I’m sure you’ve somehow gotten your hands on my reports because you know about me in the first place.” Good and bad sides of being an agent that wasn’t supposed to exist. “You’re keeping me here to see if I can do… what? Work for you?”

He remembered that Wesker had mentioned it yesterday, how it had been too absurd to be anything but a joke.

“No memory issues, good.” Wesker deadpanned, and Leon could feel how his blood pressure rose and his pulse beat against his temples.

“You owe me an explanation,” Leon said, though he knew that Wesker owed him nothing at all. “This is about my life, for fuck’s sake.”

“I saved that poor little life of yours,” Wesker snorted, his accent more pronounced when he used that annoying tone that made him sound like he thought he was oh so much more important than anyone else. “Don’t forget that.”

Leon wasn’t going to forget, but it didn’t mean that Wesker could evade his questions time and time again, acting like Leon was a wounded kitten he had saved from the streets.

As the rage built in his veins, Leon grabbed the only weapon he had— a blunt butter knife. It wouldn’t even scratch Wesker’s pale skin, but that wasn’t Leon’s goal. He ignored Wesker’s eyebrows rising up, how he didn’t bother to defend himself, probably already knowing that the attempt was useless, and reached for his goal.

With one well-aimed swirl of his wrist, the knife pressed under the frame of Wesker’s sunglasses, throwing them off and on the table. Leon was sure that this wasn’t the only pair, but he had to show that he couldn’t be toyed with thought consequences, even if they were enemies.

Not if. They were fighting for opposing goals, period.

The first stab of the knife against the lens wasn’t enough, but he used more force with the second one, which caused the plastic to crack and sent the frames flying off the counter.

All that time, Leon avoided glancing at Wesker, unsure if he was ready to see what he would face. But when the sunglasses were on the floor, the house entirely silent around them, he had to raise his gaze to meet his fate.

He had no time. A tight grip around his neck made his feet slip on the floor, and he lost his foothold and balance, earning only the latter one back when his back hit the wall so hard that it was difficult to breathe for a moment.

Or maybe it was the hand around his neck that made breathing almost impossible. Leon wasn’t sure which one was the worse option, especially because his brain decided to focus on the warmth of Wesker’s hand that shouldn’t have made him feel like it was a good idea to stay there a bit longer.

“So this is how you want to play?” Wesker hummed, much closer to his ear than Leon had anticipated.

Wesker’s grip was bruising, the lack of oxygen making Leon’s toes graze the floor when he tried to stand on his own to defend himself, but it was useless. He blinked his eyes, trying to focus his gaze and not succumb to the pain and black dots in his vision, staring at the redness of Wesker’s inhuman eyes.

This wasn’t the worst he had been through.

Leon raised his hand, the knife still in his grip, only its tip peeking from his fist. Even though Wesker’s hold around his neck didn’t ease, it was satisfying to punch his arm, break the black fabric of his sleeve, and see that he could still do something to save his skin.

It was even better to figure out that Wesker wasn’t expecting to get kneed in the abdomen, which made him let go so Leon could fall down to the floor, coughing and taking wheezing breaths simultaneously so he almost asphyxiated more than when he had been actually choked.

He couldn’t afford the time to recover. He was used to this, pushing his body further than it should be possible, facing fight after fight, continuing until one of them would be gone.

Even though he had no plan to kill Wesker, knowing that he didn’t have even a gun, let alone something sturdier that had saved him more than once (fuck, he missed rocket launchers), he wasn’t going to give up.

Rolling on his side saved him from a punch that left a dent in the wall. Diving behind the couch sounded like a good idea before Wesker raised the large piece of furniture as easily as the tyrant had thrown anything in its way aside, and removed Leon’s cover by landing it on the other side of the room. Leon stopped to gape at the sight for a few seconds too long to find a new hiding place, but at least he noticed the incoming threat in time.

A somersault over the coffee table wasn’t the suavest thing he had done, the place too cramped to move freely. Yet, it gave him an opening for a new strike, his foot meeting the side of Wesker’s head just before the man managed to dodge his kick.

If he had his shoes on, he could have actually left a mark. With lots of luck.

“Did you change your mind about saving me?” Leon asked as he retreated back to the kitchen to avoid Wesker’s punch. “Or is this how you stay in shape? Save government agents only to make them taste your fists?”

“Haven’t you heard of foreplay? I should lecture Ada about a thing or two.”

Leon’s mind halted as he wondered if this was one of Wesker’s maybe-jokes again, or if this really was—

As soon as he started to think of it, he knew that he was too slow to stop the next attack. Wesker’s well-placed shoe tripped Leon from his feet, the kitchen chair on his way and enough to make him tumble down. As he tried to back off, he could count the inches of free space behind his back, how there wasn’t much of it, how he’d be cornered soon enough.

His back hit the fridge, and he could only stare up at Wesker, defiant and showing that he wasn’t scared. It didn’t mean that he wasn’t jumping out of his skin internally, the spots where one hit could kill him were already tingling, but if this would be his end…

“Was that already enough for you, or do you need more to get going?”

He was making the exact same mistake as he did with Krauser. Proving himself, never folding with a bad hand though he should. With most people, it was enough to make them back down, to brush his words off and let Leon come out as a winner. And then there were people like Wesker and Krauser, who hated losing even more than Leon did.

Wesker tilted his head, his expression unreadable even without the sunglasses. “Are you proposing something?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Leon didn’t dare move as his fingernails pressed against the kitchen floor. He forced his gaze to stay on Wesker’s face, knowing that if he allowed it to wander, Wesker would catch it in a heartbeat.

His breathing got stuck in his aching throat as Wesker kneeled down in front of him, too close so Leon would have felt safe but far enough not to be an instant threat.

“You’re afraid of me,” Wesker mused, the smirk dancing on his lips. “Even though I don’t remember doing anything that could be interpreted as a direct threat to your wellbeing.”

Leon made an incredulous noise that was hoarse enough to prove his point. “So choking me was all safe, sane, and consensual?”

“That was after you broke my sunglasses.”

“As if you don’t have more of those somewhere.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

Leon was sure of that.

“Besides,” Wesker leaned closer, his hand coming to rest against the fridge but still leaving Leon one direction to escape. “Someone could think that you just wanted to take them off.”

Leon raised his hand and grasped a handful of Wesker’s black shirt into his fist, planning to headbutt him when there’d be the best opportunity for it. Wesker didn’t try to pry Leon’s fingers off of his shirt, though an unimpressed frown appeared on his brows as he gazed at the wrinkled fabric, and perhaps there was a chance to turn the tables.

“To see your creepy eyes?” Because they were creepy. Difficult to look away, the color of them fascinating, but maybe Leon needed to see them to remember that Wesker was a bio-organic weapon. He was infected, dangerous, and invincible as far as he knew.

…He was infected, just like Leon might be.

Wesker opened his mouth, ready to say something back, and Leon knew that this was his chance. He should use his head, make Wesker stagger backward and, if he succeeded, cause him a bloody nose.

Yet, he couldn’t. He was stuck in the loop that yelled at him that there was something wrong with him, that Wesker knew what it was, and Leon had to find out. He knew that he could never make Wesker trust him, just like Leon would never trust Wesker, but perhaps he was only sabotaging himself by fighting.

The boiling energy inside him was still there, never leaving. The heat of Wesker’s skin was so close to his hand squeezing his shirt that he felt like a zombie drawn to loud noise, closer to something living that could ease an ache inside him.

Though he knew that Wesker had left the things he had meant to say unsaid just because the man could read him too easily, see right through him, Leon couldn’t stop his confused mind and desperate body. Using the hand holding the expensive fabric in his calloused fingers, Leon shifted himself closer, knowing that Wesker wouldn’t budge no matter how much he pulled.

It was only a brush of his lips at first, as if breathing the same air with Wesker was dangerous alone. He knew that he should retreat, to say that he was doing it just to see Wesker’s reaction, but Wesker was so warm. Leon couldn’t resist it, couldn’t help but repeat his earlier action but now with more vigor.

He didn’t know what he expected. Perhaps Wesker shoving him away, sneering at him, laughing at him. Or maybe he thought Wesker to be like Krauser; to break the kiss only to spread Leon’s legs because that was what he had been suggesting the whole time without really meaning it.

Whatever he had been looking for, it wasn’t Wesker taking hold of his hair and making sure that Leon wasn’t escaping. His mind tried to wrap itself around the fact that Wesker kissed him back, the heat of his lips demanding more.

He shouldn’t be kissing him. He should stop, keep in mind who was his enemy and who his ally. But now that it seemed that he was out of allies, all alone, it was too easy to let go for a moment, to crack his lips open and allow Wesker to deepen the kiss just as much as he wanted.

Leon could stop it if he wanted. He could break the kiss as Wesker pressed closer to him, the warmth of his body so close even through their clothes. But Leon wanted more, he wanted this cold dread in his bones gone, he wanted—

A noise escaped from his throat as Wesker bit down on his lip, drawing blood and licking it away. It wasn’t enough to make him want to stop, he realized that it was his hand that pressed against Wesker’s chest to get closer to him, but there was something more pressing in his mind.

The dark, unnatural blood he had seen before. The one he wanted to hide from Wesker, if it was possible in the first place.

Leon had no time to force himself free. It was Wesker who let their lips separate again when Leon didn’t move against him anymore. The stand of saliva that connected their lips captured Leon’s attention before it broke, and with it, whatever spell had been over him disappeared as well.

Leon cleared his throat and raised his hand to wipe his lips, checking the light trail of blood that smeared on the back of his hand. There wasn’t enough to see its exact color, so it shouldn’t matter.

“Are you all right?”

“What?” Leon’s gaze glued on Wesker before he had time to decide if it was wise to meet his gaze in the first place. The red was still slightly glowing, a barely noticeable blush on Wesker’s cheeks making him look less like marble and more like a human.

Though he wasn’t a human, for fuck’s sake. He had voluntarily injected himself with a virus, and Leon shouldn’t forget that.

He couldn’t forget that even though Wesker’s voice was softer than it had any right to be.

“You know that I hate repeating myself.” Ah, there was the familiar sharp edge. “But I want to know what you want.”

“Fuck,” Leon muttered under his breath, leaning back against the fridge. He would have never imagined Wesker to be someone asking for consent like this. Because that must be it, right?

“That’s one option,” Wesker commented with a twitch of his lips, making Leon grimace because he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

But no one had ever before asked him something like this. No one. Not the girlfriend who left him before Raccoon City, not Ada in the cable car, not Krauser even when he learned about everything Leon had had to face during four busy years.

The last person who should have had any interest in making sure Leon was ready for this was the one who allowed him to leave it there or take it to… to wherever this would take them. However it would work.

He should turn Wesker down, let the whole subject die away, but he couldn’t forget the warmth that he hadn’t even realized that he had been missing. As if he was still frozen after the snowstorm, never recovered after running hours and hours in the snow, and Wesker was the only source of heat that would finally melt this ice away.

“You’re warm,” Leon sighed, making Wesker raise a single brow for a change of subject. “Why’s that?”

He begged it to be something weird in Wesker, because if his body temperature was a regular one, it meant that Leon was getting cold. He still remembered lieutenant Branagh’s chilly and clammy skin, how the T-virus infection made his body temperature drop before taking control of him.

“The virus.” Wesker said it like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. “It increases the metabolism of its host.”

…As if it explained any of it. Perhaps it did for Wesker, but it was a relief to hear nonetheless. “I…” Leon swallowed, knowing that he was half-hard in his pants, explaining to himself that it was just because of a near-death experience. “What do you want? From me? Now.”

He had no idea what Wesker planned or how this would benefit him, and Leon knew he couldn’t expect honesty. Still, he needed to hear it so he wouldn’t feel so pathetic with his racing heart and conflicted mind.

“Aside from tormenting you for fun?” Wesker smiled as his gaze dragged along Leon’s body. That had to be a joke, even though what else Wesker had been doing except tormenting him the whole time? “I’m open to suggestions because, at the moment, I’m just curious to see your reactions to a variety of different actions.”

Leon blinked, trying to stop the invasive mental images filling his head. “Why? I’m not that different from everyone else.”

“I’m a scientist.” Wesker shrugged as if it was obvious. “And I find you much more interesting than what you give yourself credit for.”

God, it was too much. Way too much for Leon because he didn’t really know what he should do.

Though, could his life get any worse than it already was? Did it matter if he let his curiosity get the better of him as the whole world seemed to have turned its back on him?

His world hadn’t been broken by Krauser, not even after their goals turned to be the opposite ones. If nothing else, he’d end up learning more about Wesker; if not any weak spots, at least something more. It wasn’t giving in to Wesker’s will, it was getting something out of this for himself.

“So, what kind of experiments are you planning then?”

The hand that touched his thigh made Leon almost jump, his muscles tensing under the warm squeeze of Wesker’s fingers. “Do you want to know all the details, or do you want to be surprised?”

Fuck. Fuck. “Give me a hint.”

Wesker’s smile was dangerous, the reptile-like slits glowing red. “The bed. My mouth on you.”

It wasn’t what Leon had expected. He had thought Wesker to take and not give, keep the reins himself, but he didn’t complain. Instead, his imagination made his pants feel tighter as Wesker’s hand slid an inch closer to his crotch.

“And we’ll see where that takes us. Is that enough information for now?”

“Sure,” Leon breathed out, pushing himself to his feet. “Lead the way.”

Wesker smirked at him before standing up and striding to the bedroom without checking if Leon was following him. It was like the last offer to back off, to stab Wesker on his back and continue fighting instead of… whatever they were doing. Leon wasn’t sure if they’d end up fucking (just thinking of it made him feel conflicted in way too many ways), but whatever this was, it would cross the line that he wasn’t supposed to overstep by a mile.

As he followed Wesker, close but not too close, it was impossible not to look at Wesker in a different way. How his shirt hugged his broad shoulders, his blond hair that Leon could mess with a stroke of luck.

He wasn’t backing off. No way.

No one else needed to know, after all. Not many knew about Ada, and this would be just one secret on top of many others.

As Wesker stopped at the end of the bed, he finally glanced at Leon. “Strip.”

“You’re not planning on biting my dick off or something?” Leon asked as he sat on the edge of the bed, not bothering to feel flustered as he reached to open the buttons of his borrowed shirt and shook it from his shoulders.

He was still confused, still trying to see where they actually stood, but a bed alone was something more than he was used to. This was easier for him than having a domestic breakfast with Wesker.

Even though he couldn’t take Wesker in a fight, this was a different territory.

Wesker shook his head, looking like he wanted to roll his eyes but didn’t bother. “That’s not part of my scheme, so no. Not if you don’t especially wish for it.”

“Not my kink.” Leon threw the shirt onto the floor and moved to remove his pants, chuckling at Wesker’s pained gaze that the shirt earned. “Not any weird stuff, and not with you, especially.”

“You should be more specific with me,” Wesker said as his fingers moved to open his shirt.

“I imagined that you’re a genius,” Leon quipped and reached over the edge of the bed, the new kind of need filling his head. “Let me do that.”

Wesker pushed Leon’s hand away. “After seeing how you treated the clothes you got from my closet, I prefer to see that these don’t end up on the floor as well.”

Leon decided that even if he couldn’t tear Wesker’s clothes off of him today, he’d do that someday when neither of them could afford to think where their clothes ended up. He could play with Wesker’s rules this time, but that was all.

After getting rid of his pants, Leon hesitated only a split second before squirming out of his underwear. He’d have to get rid of them sooner or later, and he had felt much more vulnerable with a wound than without any clothes.

With a wound that should still hurt and make him unable to raise his arm, but he had forgotten the injury. There was no denying it, there was something wrong with him, but right now, he wanted Wesker’s warmth against him and forget that he could be turning into a zombie.

“Not like we’re in a hurry, but are you going to take the whole day?” Leon asked as Wesker folded his clothes on the backrest of a chair. Not that he really wanted Wesker to hurry, not when there was the expanse of his pale and smooth skin to ogle at.

Wesker looked good, almost untouchable, and Leon wasn’t having any of it. He wanted to see if that skin would bruise from his teeth as it seemed that his fists could do nothing.

The corner of Wesker’s lips stretched into a smile. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Not here to do any good deeds.”

“I can see that.” Wesker’s gaze moved where Leon had wrapped his fingers around his cock, stroking it almost absentmindedly. “I like you better this way.”

It wasn’t a good sign, but Leon wasn’t going to get stuck on it. He spread his legs, hid the nervous twitch of his fingers into his own skin, and smiled tauntingly. “I remember that you tempted me into this by promising something.”

With one swift move, Wesker was on the bed, crawling over him. His body language made Leon think of a predator once again, one that was over him, between his legs, reaching to touch his thigh before sliding his hand up along Leon’s hips and side.

He knew that his body gave away to Wesker how vulnerable he felt under his non-human eyes and hands that could break his bones without trying. He knew that Wesker could have choked him harder, could have killed him so easily if he wanted. And now Leon let this monster lean to kiss him again, his hand moving next to Leon’s—

Wesker was so warm, the perfect heat against Leon’s skin that yearned this. He was shivering, almost like he was still too cold to feel everything, tingling when the warmth got under his skin. It made him arch into the touch, but as Wesker took him into his hand, something in his brain halted. The squeeze of Wesker’s fingers was tight but not painful, the warmth of his palm making Leon’s head fall back against the bed end, but suddenly his whole body was in fighting mode again.

He had heard that this same hand could squeeze someone’s head until all that was left was the brain matter on the walls. It had been bad enough to have it around his neck, but this—

“I prefer some other part of you around my cock,” Leon gasped against Wesker’s lips and turned his head to pry that hand from around him.

Wesker stared at him like Leon had mutated and had now two heads instead of one. “You’re ready to let me fellate you, but my hand is too much?”

So Wesker was really going to do that. Leon tried to focus on the question and not imagine his hands in Wesker’s hair.

“Anyone can bite,” Leon tried to explain, knowing that his logic fell short. “Not everyone can shape steel with their bare hands.” For whatever twisted reason, teeth were easier to accept, the risk always there. Wesker was no different from anyone else when it came to that.

Wesker sighed, but the warm puff of breath made Leon focus on entirely wrong things. “If I couldn’t control my strength, you would have heard about it.”

“How so?” Leon asked, running his hand down Wesker’s chest, his fingertips pressing into the hard muscle underneath his skin. “Do I know someone whom you’ve given a handjob to?”

The way Wesker smirked before ducking his head to bite Leon’s shoulder was more than enough.

“What?” It was difficult to keep his voice even as the pain made him squirm, the knowledge that he shouldn’t let anyone bite him was dangerously distant. He knew where the bitemarks could lead, and Wesker was infected in his own way. “Do I know them? And — ow! — you sure that I won’t grow a few additional eyes because of your bloodlust?”

As Wesker finally let go of Leon’s shoulder, he couldn’t hide how much deeper his breathing was. Not because of pain, not because he liked it (for fuck’s sake, this wasn’t the time to find out something like that), but because the adrenaline rush was always a welcome guest.

“I’m not infectious,” Wesker said as his gaze observed Leon, probably seeing more than Leon himself realized that he was feeling at the moment. “Perhaps this can give you one more reason to wonder if you were ever that close with your so-called friends.”

“Not blaming anyone if they wanted to hide that they let you fuck them.” He swallowed. “Or the other way around.” Leon wasn’t sure where to look when Wesker crept downward, leaving bloody stains on spots he stopped to bite or lick. The blood looked like it usually did, and he hoped that whatever had been wrong with him was already gone. “You aren’t too popular among STRAT, let alone BSAA.”

Wesker chuckled as his distractingly warm hands spread Leon’s legs more, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin.

Leon squinted. “Because you’re not doing that anymore, right?”

“Would you be jealous?” Wesker asked, his voice dripping with amusement.

“Nah. You haven’t proven anything yet.”

Wesker licked his lips as the way he looked at Leon screamed that he was in control, no matter that it was Leon leaning against the pillows behind him and having Wesker between his legs.

“That’s something we need to fix, don’t you think?”

Leon had no time to reply as Wesker took him into his mouth, the heat around him the only thing he could feel for a moment. It was almost too much, a touch of fire after freezing for days, a wet lick of flame that resonated through Leon and up to his spine.

His eyelids closed, and he could still feel Wesker’s knowing eyes on him, feel the smirk around him. Yet, as Wesker took him deeper as if he had done this countless times, Leon knew how to make it more even.

His hand found Wesker’s head, fingers sinking between the locks that felt stiff from all that fucking gel that Wesker used so much that he had to be the top customer of whichever brand he used. Leon could feel the frown against the base of his palm grazing Wesker’s forehead, but it didn’t stop him from combing his fingers through the hair, breaking the strands free.

The graze of Wesker’s teeth was the revenge Leon had known to expect, and though it made him tense, it wasn’t enough to make him wince.

Leon peeked from between his eyelids and grinned. “I’ve wanted to do this for a while.”

Wesker’s glare could have killed, just like the way he took Leon deeper, swallowed around him, the nails sinking into Leon’s trembling thighs.

“Fuck,” Leon muttered and tried to keep his breathing controlled. It was almost funny how many times he had cursed that one word while seeing something that he didn’t want to see, something that wasn’t supposed to exist and that wanted him dead. Now the feeling was almost the same, the familiar incredulous shock tightening inside him, but the pleasure that mixed into it was new.

It was a good difference, Leon decided. He wouldn’t mind getting more of this if he could really ignore the fact that it was Wesker with him in the same bed.

He wanted to complain as Wesker pulled off, leaving him to miss the wet heat, but Leon feared it would have sounded too much like begging. That was something he wouldn’t do, not with Wesker, not as long as he had some control over himself. He still wasn’t sure if there was some virus nagging his consciousness away, eating his self-control like a greedy parasite, but the ache and tearing cough from Plaga still stayed away, so he pushed the fear away.

“First my sunglasses, now my hair? Leon, really?” Wesker asked, his voice low and a bit hoarser than before. His grip tightened as he pushed Leon’s legs closer to his body, and it should have been enough to make the room full of a spinning red alert light like the time running out before self-destruction.

Yet, Leon chuckled, his heel pressing on Wesker’s shoulder. “It’s not like anyone’s watching—”

His voice broke when Wesker leaned closer again, that same hot mouth tasting him all over before focusing on licking him open.

It was new, unexpected, and Leon couldn’t decide if he wanted more of it or to pull away because he knew where this would lead. Not that he minded, he had known that this was where this could go, but he had waited for something else, for rough fingers and pain, the aching stretch that was all he knew from his experience.

And it was more than worth it, so why not.

“Didn’t think you to be one to bottom-suck your enemies,” Leon gasped, whatever he had meant to say sounding bland as he slid his feet down the pale width of Wesker’s back, trying to get closer but unable from his current position.

Wesker snorted, his breath on Leon’s wet skin causing shivers in its wake. “You shouldn’t believe everything you’ve heard of me. Shape your own opinions with better knowledge.”

Leon knew that the sound he made revealed how he couldn’t think anything intelligent now, let alone decide how he should really see Wesker, who knew exactly how to fuck him open with his tongue. “Should I believe that you do this often then?”

“Only with those who kiss me after some foreplay.” His teeth pressed on the back of Leon’s thigh, making him cry out. “You don’t seem to complain.”

“Nothing to complain about,” Leon admitted as he felt Wesker’s finger press inside him, and to his own surprise, it didn’t make him nearly as tense as it should. He pressed his heel harder against Wesker’s back to get that mouth on him as well. “So don’t fucking stop.”

Wesker chuckled, the sound dripping smugness, but Leon felt too warm and good to care. He expected Wesker to change for lube after the two of his fingers, but it was still torturously slow, almost methodical, and Leon felt like he melted under the sparks of pleasure that left him boneless and leaking on his belly.

He had no idea how Wesker could be so patient but decided that it was just one form of sadism as Leon could barely hold himself from squirming, the pressure inside him waiting for the moment of relief, though he knew that he wouldn’t get it for a while.

After he had adjusted to the third finger, knowing that he was dangerously close to the place where he’d forget with whom he was and how dangerous the despair was, he kicked Wesker where his foot was resting. Not hard enough for it to hurt someone like Wesker, but hard enough to earn a raised eyebrow.

“I’m ready,” Leon said, trying to keep it casual through his heavy breathing.

The corner of Wesker’s mouth curled into a smile. “Ready for what?”

“Oh, c’mon.” Leon accompanied his words with a new kick. “Fuck me already.”

Wesker jerked his chin towards the nightstand next to the bed. “The uppermost drawer.”

Leon rolled on his side the best he could with Wesker still between his legs, reaching to pull the drawer open and snatching what they needed. “Do you always have lube and condoms, or am I a special guest?”

“This is a safehouse wherein I might need to spend indeterminable time to stay under the radar.” His eyes glowed as he stared down at Leon, and Leon looked back and didn’t let the sound of the wrapper getting ripped open distract him. “The place has all the basic necessities I might need.”

“Okay,” Leon breathed out, not sure what he was supposed to do with his mental images regarding the subject. “Do you want me to change my position?”

Wesker seemed to measure how Leon was still almost bent in two, then shook his head. “I prefer to see the faces you make.”

That was… weird. Just weird, but Leon couldn’t decide if he hated it and wanted to hide or if he felt proud. “That scientist part of yours?”

“Partially.” Wesker nodded as he uncapped the lube. “And seeing your expressions reveal how many noises you’re biting back.”

Leon wished that the heat on his cheeks wasn’t visible. “Perhaps I haven’t had that much fun yet.”

“You don’t have to keep your voice down.” Wesker’s tone was low as his hand returned on Leon’s thigh, the other guiding his wrapped and lubed cock to press against him. “This house is soundproof. Whatever you think of me, I want my partners to enjoy themselves.”

“And stroke your huge ego by how well you did?” Leon asked, his voice strained as he fought against the temptation to move and get the first inch inside him.

“I’m good at what I do.” Wesker sounded confident, and the fact that he was still alive and slowly rubbing against Leon, who was his enemy, proved it accurate enough. “That doesn’t mean that I can’t always do even better, and you can help me with it.”

Leon had a feeling that it meant more than this, that there was some hidden meaning behind the words that he didn’t catch right away, but he had no time to think. Perhaps it was Wesker’s method; to plant a seed of something and then wipe every thought away by stretching him slowly, not stopping before he sunk into Leon to the hilt.

“Fuck,” Leon muttered, not knowing what he should do with his hands when he felt too much and not enough. “Just move.”

It was too soon, he still needed to adjust a bit more, but he was too impatient. Wesker was so hot even inside him, against the back of his thighs and spoiling him with the comforting warmth that Leon already feared to lose.

He wasn’t allowed to get used to it, to learn to miss it, so he encouraged Wesker to move, to fuck him until Leon’s back arched from the mattress. It was rough, Wesker’s stamina almost as if it’d never end, and Leon reached to pull his hair that now fell over Wesker’s sweaty forehead. He wanted to admire his own handiwork, how he had changed some part of Wesker even if only temporarily, how he controlled this just as much as Wesker, if not more because he had started this.

Leon could blame no one but himself, and he treasured the fact; after he had lost every piece of control and his life had turned upside down, even if this was just part of Wesker’s schemes, Leon still had decisions left to make.

“This all you got?” He taunted, knowing that he might regret it later but wanting it all.

Wesker shot a glare at him and pressed his hands on Leon’s knees, spreading them more and pressing them down so he could lean closer. The heat of his body made Leon arch even closer to him, wanting to bask in it as if Wesker was radiating sunlight itself. Leon hoped that he wasn’t radioactive or otherwise dangerous to touch.

“You might be used to people like Jack Krauser using you for their own pleasure, and that’s not how this has to go.”

Ouch. That was a low blow. Leon growled, hitting the heel of his foot where it reached. “Shut up. Don’t want to hear about him.”

Wesker made a sound that was almost like a laugh and ground his hips against Leon, reaching even deeper. “Would you prefer me to bite you again instead?” It was both a threat and promise, and Leon pondered it only for a few seconds.

A new dose of adrenaline instead of this stupid taunting? Yes, please. “If you can’t resist me.”

Wesker glanced at him from under his eyebrows, his eyes so bright red that Leon wondered if they would light the room if it was dark. Then, there were teeth moving on his skin, searching for the right spot, and when they bit down, there was no use in swallowing down the noise that Leon made.

He panted for a moment, unsure which sensation he should focus on, feeling like his blood was surging in his veins a mile a minute. “Are you sure you’re not a zombie?”

Wesker replied by grinding his teeth together, causing a sharp jolt of pain, making every edge look sharper, the colors more muted.

“Yes.” Leon loved feeling this way when his life wasn’t actually in danger. His hands shook slightly as he moved to touch Wesker’s back, leaving red trails of his nails there just to pay the bitemarks back.

It was impossible to say when Wesker let go, when he leaned to kiss Leon so he could taste his own blood on those lips, when he left more bleeding scratch marks on the pale skin and coaxed Wesker fuck him harder, just like Leon wanted.

He couldn’t gather his thoughts from the sea of sensations before he was so close that he tasted it. There were tiny jerks in his limbs he couldn’t stop, his muscles tense, but he wasn’t sure if he should let go, if it was safe to do so, if this was only a fever dream and he was actually already dying?

“There’s no need to hold back,” Wesker hummed against Leon’s skin, the pleasant warmth making him believe the words of a man he should never trust. “Let me have this.”

Leon wasn’t sure what it meant, and he shouldn’t have given in, not when Wesker asked for it. But he couldn’t hold back anymore, the orgasm almost as impactful as the swipe of El Gigante’s enormous fist, yet not nearly as painful.

It was enough to make him lose the time and space around him, the sensation there and his body trying to reach for more of Wesker’s warmth before it would be over. He felt so much that it was difficult to handle, the jerks running through him somehow different, but there was no name for it. It was best not to think, take what he could, and know that Wesker didn’t need him to help himself.

The moment of obliviousness was welcome, and Leon embraced it as long as he could, his senses turning back on only when Wesker pushed himself farther and left Leon feeling empty and cold.

Would he ruin everything if he asked Wesker to stay close a moment longer? Just until Leon would realize how little he needed anyone.

He didn’t ask for it. He said nothing as he lay there, still returning to reality as he realized that Wesker was standing next to the bed, looking like he had asked something that Leon had missed completely.

“Thanks,” Leon said as he snatched a towel from Wesker’s hand and reached to clean the mess on his belly.

“So, I’ll take a shower first,” Wesker commented dryly, clearly knowing that Leon hadn’t heard a word of what he said before.

“What, no shared showers?”

Wesker’s glare was almost as icy as the Northern wind had been.

“Go ahead.” Leon waved his hand and pulled himself to sit against the headboard again, feeling the ache in his lower back and knowing that it wasn’t enough to bother him.

He could have taken more. After running for his life for days, he wasn’t sure if one time would be enough to make him forget the sounds of bullets and the heat of the flamethrower in his hands, but it was a good start.

…Though it’d be better if it was just a one-time thing. Yet, it wasn’t like there was anyone else for Leon at the moment.

Wesker nodded after staring at Leon a bit longer and turned to walk to the bathroom but stopped in the doorway. “How was the first time?”

“Never thought we’d have any times that didn’t involve us trying to kill each other.” Leon shrugged, wanting to downplay how he felt like he still couldn’t control his body, the pleasant afterglow and an ache he welcomed pulsing through him. “You’re somewhat special, but not that special.”

“Whatever you say,” Wesker replied, clearly not buying Leon’s attitude. “When was the last time you had sexual intercourse in the first place?”

Leon snorted at Wesker’s choice of words but stopped to think of it. He had his memories of Ada visiting him once after Spain, but before it, it had been Krauser, and even though Leon had enjoyed it back then, he preferred to forget all of it now.

“Let’s say that you broke the dry season of this winter. I’m sure that you know just as well how busy a woman Ada is.”

Wesker chuckled, the sincere sound making Leon squint to see how he would suffer next. “What a pity that I won’t be there to hear what she’s going to say about your choice of partners.”

“You gotta fight for my attention.” Leon grinned, but it changed into a grimace as he tried to stretch his shoulders, and the bitten spots weren’t sparing him.

“I think that we already have a solution to that dilemma,” Wesker hummed, but that was all he said before the door closed behind him.

Leon sighed, knowing that he was just as far from finding out what was going on as before. This was a perfect opportunity to snoop around, but he already knew that there was nothing to find; Wesker had left him alone for the first night, after all.

Falling to his side, Leon ran his finger over one of the bite marks, feeling how either the wound had already stopped bleeding, or Wesker had never broken the skin.

—Or he was healing unnaturally fast, just like the scratches on Wesker’s back that Leon had noticed as the man had turned his back on him.

He closed his eyes, cursing under his breath, but unable to be mad at anyone but himself. The need to figure out what was going on was an itch under his skin, the same kind that had driven him to read every note and paper back in the Raccoon City police station. He knew that he still had his phone, the one he had turned off before deciding to follow Wesker, and if he could just talk with someone who knew what was going on and didn’t want him dead…

Unfortunately, he had only Wesker. What was even worse, Leon didn’t hate the thought anymore as much as he should.

He wasn’t sure if he was really allowed to leave. Part of Leon expected Wesker to lock the door, tie him down, and make sure that he wouldn’t run away. Yet, when Leon informed Wesker of visiting his place to see if there was anything that could tell him something about the situation, all Wesker said was, “Be careful.”

It sounded so normal, almost a secondhand comment like Wesker didn’t focus on what he was saying and that Leon was leaving. He seemed focused on the screen of his laptop filled with numbers and letters that didn’t reveal Leon anything (he had tried, but he didn’t have a degree in virology, and he wasn’t self-destructive enough to ask).

“You really let me walk out of the door?”

“No, you’ll have to jump out of the window,” Wesker sighed, clearly annoyed by a distraction. 

Leon felt self-conscious in clothes that weren’t his, knowing that he’d feel cold sooner rather than later because he didn’t plan to be weak enough to borrow Wesker’s coat. He had no idea what kind of reaction that would arise. “So I can leave?”

“Sure.” Wesker had glanced up from whatever he was reading, his eyes invisible behind his shades again. “I hope you’ll come back in one piece.”

It was almost as if he knew that Leon had nothing to return to, and when an hour later Leon stood in the middle of his empty old apartment and could taste the bitterness of his loss, he guessed that Wesker really knew that he had nothing from his old life anymore. Nothing but his memories and hopes, everything physical and tangential that he had owned and treasured was gone, taken away without him even realizing it.

The place looked smaller than Leon remembered, the walls falling over him, the darkness around him making him feel like he didn’t exist. Not really, not like before. This was the twilight zone, and he didn’t know the way out.

He knew that he should leave, that the people who wanted him dead might expect him to return, but he was stuck staring at tiny marks he had left behind when he rarely had time to spend at home. The place where he had scratched the floor by falling one drunken night. The wall where he could still distinguish old blood splatters he couldn’t rub away from too-fancy wallpaper. The closet that felt somehow larger than before when Leon stepped in, remembering to bend down and not hit his head on the doorframe.

The light still worked, the secret stash Leon had seemed still to be untouched. His fingers twitched when he thought of having a gun again, missing the safety and weight that Silver Ghost brought him, always regretting when he had to leave the said gun behind. Yet, he had lost all of his weapons on the run, so perhaps it was better that he had left it behind; the hope of having something familiar in his hands made his motions more hurried.

Sliding the panel onto the side, he was relieved to see that the safety looked untouched. No one else knew the code to open it; the combination got longer and longer by month because it was made of people he had lost. He couldn’t let himself forget. The reminder of what he fought for was necessary so he wouldn’t give up one day.

After pressing one last button, the safety clicked open, but against the odds, it was empty. Leon tried to ignore the disappointment eating him away, trying to remember if he had really left Silver Ghost behind. He still couldn’t remember what he had done before finding himself in the rain, but he could remember every gun on him that he had taken with him, the familiar handgun not among them.

So someone else had taken it, or he had given it to someone to keep. What was he still missing?

There was no time to keep thinking about it or searching for clues as he heard the door clicking shut, the sound of heels echoing in the empty apartment. Leon tensed, knowing well that he didn’t have a weapon, but also recognizing the steps that were loud just for him to hear them.

He didn’t peek out, didn’t move from where he was because this way, he had cover from bullets if things went from bad to worse- Yet, it was useless to try to hide.

“Ada.”

“Leon.” The familiar voice came from the outside. “Would you come out?”

“I’ve already come out of the closet once,” Leon snarked just because he could, hearing a pained huff from Ada. “Is it safe?”

“For some time.”

Well, it was better than nothing, and Leon had no reason not to trust Ada. She had saved his skin back on the other continent.

He stepped out, remembering the low frame again, and flashed a tired smile at the familiar face and red dress. “Good to see that you’re okay.”

“I always am,” Ada brushed it away, taking a few steps closer. It felt like she was looking right through Leon, seeing everything, spotting the bruises where Leon thought the clothes that weren’t his or his style hid them. “Didn’t know you liked being bitten that much. You should have told me.”

Leon grimaced, knowing that it was too late to hide anything, but the need to raise his hand to cover his skin was still there. “Compromises. I usually prefer to keep my trachea in one piece.”

Ada took a step closer, then another, but Leon couldn’t help but feel that she was hesitating. It wasn’t like Ada, and it made him nervous for her.

“You’re not in trouble for meeting me here?”

“You really are the same,” Ada muttered, almost like to herself, but Leon knew that she wouldn’t let anything important slip without meaning it. “I can take care of myself.”

Leon sighed, distracted as Ada’s hand moved to touch his arm. The same place that had been shot, the spot that didn’t hurt anymore. “I know you can, but everything’s such a fucking mess.”

A mess which details Ada surely knew better than him. Leon opened his mouth, the questions already on his tongue, but he was silenced, again. He should have learned to expect that from Ada, but he still couldn’t help but tense as Ada pressed against him, her lips on his.

And all Leon could think of was how cold Ada was. She felt like a human, her skin real and soft, but she reminded him of zombies, of infected people before they turned. She wasn’t warm and inviting, she was like lukewarm water ready to turn colder as soon as Leon tried to steal her warmth away.

“You’re not going to tell me.”

“I have my own ways to survive, but going against Wesker isn’t part of my interests,” Ada replied, her breath brushing against Leon’s lips. It wasn’t the warm puff of breath he wished to feel, and it made him feel worse in so many different ways. “Just look after yourself and play safe. He’s used to keeping secrets, but you seem to have gotten under his skin sooner than I expected.”

It wasn’t a compliment, not for Leon. “I’m glad that you know me well enough to know that no one can bite me without getting at least half of it back.”

Ada chuckled and moved to wipe Leon’s hair from his eyes, and suddenly it felt like a goodbye. Leon wasn’t ready for it, not when Ada had always watched him, followed him, and Ada had had her way with him because he didn’t know how to say no to her.

And now, Ada was cold and distant, looking at Leon like they weren’t meant to meet each other again and again.

“Ada?”

Her glove-covered finger pressed on his lips. “This isn’t my battle. You’ll get it.”

Leon couldn’t figure out even one reason why Ada would stay away from a job, from him, if she could get something out of it.

Part of him wondered if he really wanted to know what was going on because the more he learned, the deeper he fell, and the more he realized that there wouldn’t be getting out.

“Goodbye, Leon.” She pulled her hand away, her heels clicking against the floor as she backed away at a slow pace, as if wanting to see if Leon would follow her, force her to stay. “You’re a close second place, but you’re not the one for me.”

Leon let her leave. Of course he did, even though his thoughts were racing in his mind, trying to interpret Ada’s words the best he could. Was Ada in love with someone else? Was she finally leaving the business, was she—

It didn’t matter, not really. She had helped him, they both have saved each other’s life more than thrice (Leon wasn’t even keeping count anymore). If someone wanted away from the world of BOWs, to be free from death and despair, Leon wasn’t the one to judge them.

He envied them, but he couldn’t forget and keep living after the countless halls of hell he had fought through.

With a sigh, he took a few steps back to turn off the light from the closet. It left the apartment dark and looking even emptier, and Leon knew that this wasn’t his home anymore.

He had no home, but he had someone waiting for him. As little as the thought was supposed to warm him, it did.

It eventually took fifteen hours more to return in front of the familiar door.

Leon hadn’t been spotted, he wasn’t in trouble or followed as he used more time than necessary to ensure that. He shouldn’t have cared, it should have sounded like a good idea to lead someone to finish Wesker, but Leon couldn’t do it. To Wesker, after he had done nothing to hurt him (relatively), to himself.

He was hungry and tired, waiting for a sign that would tell him that he was walking into his own doom, that he was allowed there just so Wesker could use him for his gain. Leon wasn’t naive enough to imagine Wesker wasn’t using him, but it wasn’t like it changed anything.

Since he had been caught after Raccoon City and trained to be an agent ready to protect and sacrifice his own life in the process, this was almost better. It would have been if he could have forgotten everything he had seen, all the infected people who were just test subjects for Wesker. The man didn’t seem so inhuman as what Leon had heard, but it wasn’t like the STARS hadn’t trusted Wesker before it was too late.

Perhaps Leon was prey pierced by an arrow, pulled somewhere where he’d be killed, and his skin and bones used to make something even worse, but it wasn’t like he had choices.

He was weak enough to try to call Claire again. No one answered, and it led him to another moment of self-pity as he ended up thinking of Sherry and what she’d say if she heard that now everyone wanted Leon dead. He couldn’t make that call, so he threw the phone on a truck that happened to stop next to him at the traffic lights to travel North. It left him feeling just more miserable.

It was cold without a jacket, he had such a long way back into the place that wasn’t his home, and the despair of loneliness was there again. If Ada had left permanently as well, Leon really had no one else but Wesker.

They would never see eye to eye. They had different goals, different ways of interpreting the world, but they had something in common: many people wanted them both dead.

Leon knew that he wasn’t the one that could change anything; he had tried, tried so hard, but everyone always ended up dying around him. He didn’t believe that he could change Wesker, make him give up his experiments, and learn how not to destroy humankind, but it didn’t mean that it was useless to try. They could find some balance, and if they didn’t…

Well, if it came to it, Leon knew how to fight.

After finding back in the middle of a sleeping suburban neighborhood that was a perfect hiding place for people like Wesker and knocking on the door because, of course, Wesker hadn’t given him a key, Leon realized that he might not be welcome back.

He knocked again, a bit harder this time, but the door stayed closed just as before. The lights were off, but he already knew that the windows were covered from inside, so he might just not be able to see them.

Either Wesker was out, or he wasn’t letting Leon in. Leon— shouldn’t have been surprised. Or feel disappointed, the reality of loneliness hitting him with the full force.

If even Wesker considered him useless, Leon was worth nothing. After fighting for years, trading his life away for Sherry’s wellbeing and future, he was suddenly no one.

Not even a threat worth killing in the eyes of his enemy.

He took a step back, knowing that he might be overreacting, that too much had happened during such a short time, and if he lost it now, he lost his chance of living. He had learned that panicking meant dying, losing sight of what would happen next would kill him sooner or later.

His hands squeezed into fists on his sides, the emotions he couldn’t name making it more difficult to breathe.

He had known that everyone would leave. He had already lost so many, but the sound of the line being closed on his ear by Claire and Ada’s gentle yet sad gaze felt like something inside him was twisted until it would snap.

This was all he had. The world of BOWs, the disaster after disaster, the adrenaline baths as there wasn’t one month when he didn’t need to fear for his life.

And now his life was— This was—

“You’re finally here.”

Wesker’s drawl tore Leon from his thoughts, making him swirl on his heels. It felt like something inside him was ready to burst, the physical pain around his ribs. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he was only imagining Wesker standing next to a black car, his arms crossed, a brow cocked as if he waited for Leon to get into the car.

“I already wondered if you decided to run,” Wesker continued as if he didn’t notice Leon’s inner conflict. “Get in. We don’t have time to waste.”

“Where are we going?” To Leon’s relief, his voice didn’t crack.

“After your stunt, there are people who’ll find us sooner or later if we stay.” Wesker didn’t reply to Leon’s question but opened the door on the driver’s side. “We have a long ride ahead.”

Leon sighed, knowing that he would follow Wesker. “Can I drive?”

Wesker stopped in the middle of sitting down and glared at him. “You don’t know where we are going, and I’ve heard how incompatible you are with vehicles. Feel lucky that I’ll let you be conscious while I drive.”

Well, it had been worth trying. “You know that you can’t escape my questions this way.”

“I can always kick you out on the highway,” Wesker smirked before closing the door quietly, not giving Leon other choices than to walk around the car and get in.

Leon wasn’t sure for how long he had slept. He jostled awake, heart beating somewhere around his throat, trying to shake away the dread wrapped around him. It felt like the mutated monster was holding him, the thick and long fingers ending in claws still squeezing his head, ready to break it with its hands alone.

The sensation was there even when Leon ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tell his senses that no one was touching him. No one was trying to kill him at that exact moment.

“Nightmare?”

Leon winched, only now remembering that he wasn’t alone. That maybe he had a good reason to be afraid. “...Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Wesker kept his head straight, probably looking at the road.

It made it easier not to refuse right away. “Nothing you wouldn’t guess since you know about Raccoon City.”

Wesker hummed. “Doesn’t mean that I’m not curious. I knew many of those people, after all.”

“And let them die,” Leon pointed out, realizing that Wesker had actually lived in that city. He had known those people who had died, he had been part of Umbrella, and though it was impossible to imagine Wesker mourning his loss, he had seen the place when everything was still normal.

It wasn’t like Leon had any secrets regarding that place. Wesker knew about Ada, he probably knew more about the whole incident than Leon did.

“It’s always either the tyrant or the mutated scientist.”

“William Birkin,” Wesker added.

“He always came back,” Leon sighed, shaking his head and trying to forget those pleas for help, the silent whispers under the inhuman noises. “I almost died countless times when fighting him, but I felt bad for him coming back. I feared that if I died, I’d come back too.”

He expected Wesker to laugh, perhaps mock Leon for his stupid thoughts. Wesker had died, and still he was there as if nothing had happened. “He let his ambition blind him. He should have known better and listened to me, but he just had to finish the G-virus.”

Leon glanced at Wesker, whose words were said in that same dry drawl as most other things, but they felt different. He knew that Wesker had worked with Birkin, but not to what extent. “You knew him.”

“We were friends,” Wesker said, flashing a smirk. “Believe it or not, there are people who trust me and whom I trust to a certain extent.”

“And look what happened to poor William,” Leon muttered, unable to help himself. “But uh, sorry about that. I guess that you could blame me for his death.”

Wesker shook his head, pulling ahead of a slower car driving in front of them. “It’d be useless in every sense I can think of.”

If Leon just could stop blaming someone that he couldn’t even name for the countless deaths he had witnessed. He closed his eyes, hoping that there wouldn’t be more nightmares, praying that he wouldn’t scream in his sleep or something worse. “You taking me to your home?”

“To another safehouse.”

Of course.

“Why, are you disappointed?”

“Just would have wanted to find something I could have used against you. You should really tell me what’s going on.”

Wesker chuckled. “If you agree to work for me.”

This, again. Maybe it wasn’t a joke after all. “In your dreams. Guess you should sleep more.”

Wesker didn’t reply, and the hum of the engine pulled Leon under the surface of sleep, into the darkness that was better than his memories.

“I’ll wake you when we’re there.”

He knew that Wesker would.

After they had moved in, the house just as generic and lacking any personal items, just like the last one, Leon couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Wesker lived or if he had a real home somewhere. He didn’t ask.

As much as he tried to plan for his next move and figure out what Wesker was planning, it took only two days before Leon was asking more questions, demanding answers.

Three days until they fought. Four days until they ended up sleeping together again after a wrestling match that Wesker almost let Leon win.

It became a new routine; pretend that everything was normal, fight for your life, and end up having sex in some part of the house just to enjoy how Wesker hadn’t killed him this time either.

It was good enough to keep Leon from getting too agitated, feeling like a scabby rodent in a cage, though he was free to leave the house and come and go as he pleased. But he wasn’t free when Wesker held all the knowledge, the pieces of Wesker’s life that Leon managed to pick out weren’t nearly enough to sate him.

It was like a game of cat and mouse, except that Leon was the one pressing with his questions and not getting anything but bite marks on his skin. He couldn’t stop because it was about his life, and he had only one of them, whatever else Wesker seemed to imagine.

“What do you think will happen if I turn myself in?” Leon asked, annoyed that Wesker gave more information to his cursed laptop than Leon. He had deduced that Wesker wouldn’t need to work and write down whatever he did, but he did that only to rail Leon up.

“Is there a reason for you to do so?” Wesker asked, a sliver of cruel mirth in his voice. “Have you done something wrong?”

Leon huffed. “Let’s start with how I’m not trying to actively kill you.” He tried to kick Wesker under the table, repeating the action when he didn’t score a hit, but Wesker dodged him without looking away from the screen, his fingers still dancing on the keyboard.

Wesker didn’t reply, and Leon felt like he had to push harder.

“I think that I might be infected.”

“Really?” Wesker hummed, not looking shocked a little bit. It made it even worse, the blood in Leon’s veins feel colder because it made him feel like it was true. “How so?”

“As if you don’t know.” It didn’t stop Leon from continuing, knowing how dangerous it was, but deciding that Wesker already knew everything anyway. He needed to let it all out, except how much his body yearned for the warmth that he could find in Wesker. “The BOW wounded me back in Finland. It’s when everything started and—”

“Is it?”

Leon froze, staring at Wesker, who finally had turned to look back at him. Jesus Christ, did Leon want those sunglasses gone.

He knew that Wesker was right: the memory loss, the confusion. But he didn’t know what had happened, how, he just remembered the clinic, and it made no sense…

“Those days I lost. What did I do during them?”

Wesker smiled. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“Don’t draw conclusions with no information,“ Wesker tsked, a frown of irritation settling on his brows. “I can tell you what happened. I can show you.”

A sigh that left Leon wavered, and even though he shouldn’t do so, he averted his gaze. “If I work for you. Why? You don’t need me.”

“I have my reasons,” Wesker said, shrugging. “If you’re as smart as I hope you to be, you’ll figure it out.”

It was such a torment. Leon groaned and leaned back, his arms hanging over the back of the chair as he tilted as far back as he dared. “I should leave,” he declared. “Plant a bomb and fuck off because whatever you’re planning, it’s no good.”

“You won’t do that.”

Leon nodded without looking at Wesker. “I won’t. But like… this is driving me nuts. Have you ever been in a situation where everyone knows something about you, and you’re the only one in the dark? It fucking sucks.”

He didn’t expect a reply, so he almost fell when Wesker gave it to him. “I’m used to being one with all the required information. But when I was young, I figured out that certain people around me knew more about me than they let out. I believed that the people who raised me knew who my parents were.”

It— wasn’t what Leon expected. “You don’t know your parents? Doesn’t that bother you?”

He didn’t have the best childhood himself. He still remembered his parents dying and how alone he had been afterward, but he was happy that he had known them before they had been suddenly gone.

“I had everything I wanted. I could pursue any career I desired. There’s nothing that should bother me.”

Leon didn’t get it, not at all. He could have imagined that someone like Wesker wanted to know where he came from, how he was who he was, but it seemed that Wesker didn’t care or didn’t let it show. Leon knew not to poke the angry bear more than necessary. “And you decided to become, what, a triple agent? Or is it quadruple already?”

Wesker took his sunglasses off, blinking at the brightness of his laptop screen. “That doesn’t matter. I might work for different organizations, but if they take a route I can’t support and aren’t ready to listen to me, there’s no reason to keep aiding them. So if you’re afraid that you’ll be collared and leashed to some company, that’s not the case.”

“So you sell the bioweapons to the highest bidder.”

“That’s Ada’s field, not mine.”

It was impossible to talk with Wesker without feeling cornered if Leon didn’t play dirty — which meant making jokes until Wesker told him to shut up or made him.

He let his chair fall on all four legs again, leaning closer to Wesker over the table. It was weird how he was used to seeing Wesker’s reptilian eyes, their color changing depending on Wesker’s emotional state. It was the easiest way to read the man, to know when Leon had pushed too far or if it was the time to break the last sliver of Wesker’s control when it came to touching him.

“Okay, let’s start from the beginning. What do you want from me? Exactly.” Leon reached to push the lid of the laptop down even though Wesker’s brow twitched from exasperation.

It was madness, nothing if not insane to give in because Wesker wouldn’t let go of what he had and considered valuable. Leon still didn’t know why he was worth anything to Wesker, but he wasn’t going to throw his life away. If it meant making bad decisions, he was already neck deep in them, and he knew how to hold his breath to dive even deeper.

He was so tired. The ache of betrayal hurt, it didn’t leave him alone, and Leon had already given up imagining that it was just a misunderstanding. If he found out what was going on, he could make a new decision and leave Wesker when they both knew where they stood.

Wesker interlaced his fingers, a lopsided smirk dangerous but still making Leon feel hotter than he was allowed to. “I’m asking the same as what you did before for your government: kill bio-organic weapons and destroy laboratories where they’re created. I can provide locations, necessary details, and a ride back home.”

“That’s all?” Leon asked incredulously, not swallowing it without chewing it first.

“That’s all.”

“I’m not that easy,” Leon grumbled, knowing there must have been a catch. “And why would you want anything like that destroyed?”

Wesker sighed, looking like he was fighting to stay patient now that the sunglasses didn’t hide his expression. “Competitors. Scientists whose ideas no one should support. Organizations that don’t play by the rules. Pick your guess.”

It made sense, but… “The first thing.” Leon swallowed, feeling like a traitor, trying to drive the memories of Raccoon City away. He stood up, needing to move so he wouldn’t feel like he was imprisoned in his head. “What would be the first thing you want me to do?”

Wesker smiled, a fake friendliness warming Leon much more than he wanted to admit. “The laboratory where you’ll find the truth you’re looking so hard for. I wouldn’t mind seeing that place burning.”

It was tempting. It was dangerous. If (when) he was infected somehow, Leon wanted the people who had done it to pay. He needed a cure, and this was his chance. He paced back and forth, feeling Wesker’s eyes on him, too deep in his thoughts to care that his inner fight was visible and making him vulnerable. It wasn’t like Wesker hadn’t gotten under his skin yet. On the contrary, Wesker had been balls deep in him in every single way.

No matter how fishy it was, Leon had already chosen. He was already wrapped around Wesker’s finger, trapped in his loneliness, hoping that this was his way out and not the road to where Wesker had lived for such a long time.

“What if I refuse?” Leon asked, stopping in front of Wesker when the man turned to face him.

“You’ve already refused more than once,” Wesker replied, tilting his head so he could somehow look Leon down his nose though Leon was the one standing. “I can take it a few more times.”

It was more than Leon had ever gotten. He hadn’t had a real choice to work for the government, he had killed so he wouldn’t be killed. All Wesker offered was the choice between the same old torment of Leon’s own mind or something familiar yet new.

Fuck, he was such a lost cause.

“And if I want to back off?”

“It depends when.” Wesker uncrossed his legs, the fingers of his hand resting on the table gently tapping its surface. “If you want, this first time can be a trial run for us both. Even after that, I’m not going to hunt you down if you decide to leave, but you must understand what potential complications it could cause to our partnership.”

“Partnership,” Leon breathed out, uncertain if he was supposed to sound bitter or amused. “I’ll be a bloody mess on the wall when the word gets around.”

“No one has to know if you prefer it that way. It depends on how loose your tongue is.”

“Yeah,” Leon laughed, feeling like he was losing some part of himself. “Because you don’t have any friends.”

“Leon.” Wesker’s voice was stern, his hand squeezing Leon’s felt determined, and it had a dangerous effect on him with its warmth. “You’re overthinking.”

He was, but it was so difficult to stop. He was really going to be one of the bad guys, was he? He wanted nothing but to save people, to prevent seeing death and mutilated bodies wherever he went. Maybe he could see a sliver of Wesker’s plans, hinder him, or even change his mind if Leon someday would have the same effect on Wesker as he had on him.

They weren’t the same.

“One time.”

Wesker nodded. “A try-out that won’t be any different than what’ll follow.”

Leon didn’t reply. He grasped Wesker’s collar, pulled him to his feet, and pressed him against the table before kissing him. Wesker didn’t stop him.

It was all teeth and tongue, Leon wanting to feel like he wasn’t played with, fooled, and when’d realize that he had made his most crucial mistake yet, thrown away to deal with it all alone. He knew that this act proved nothing, but he had to channel the energy under his skin somewhere, get it out, and see if Wesker was ready to let him make one more decision and play along.

Leon’s hands found their way under Wesker’s shirt, the smooth skin and heat under his fabric made him feel like he was burning his fingers when not knowing the right distance from the scorching fire. He was already familiar with the hard muscles of Wesker’s body, the way he tensed when Leon sank his nails into the skin and left marks that would soon look like they had never existed.

His lips left Wesker’s only to travel under his jaw, leaving a bruise there as Leon smoothed his palms over Wesker’s waistband and eased his hand between the edge of the table and Wesker’s hips. He felt rather than heard a soft gasp close to his ear when he squeezed the ass under his grasp, daring to slip his thumb between the cheeks and hope that he wasn’t feeling just the fabric of Wesker’s pants under his touch.

“Wanna fuck you.”

Once again, he had no idea how Wesker would react. And once again, he reminded himself not to draw preliminary conclusions.

“Go ahead.” Wesker’s teeth found the shell of his ear. “Took you long enough.”

It was—

Leon bit down without realizing it, his hand moving reluctantly away from Wesker’s ass to open his belt and pants. It didn’t matter that he tried to remind himself that they weren’t in a hurry, it felt like he had to get far enough so Wesker wouldn’t rethink and decide against it.

It didn’t matter that the gesture probably meant nothing to Wesker. It still helped Leon to believe that there was one kind of fragile trust between them; even if Wesker would never tell him his thoughts, even if he never revealed his mind to Leon, he could have at least this.

The knowledge that they both were on each other’s skin because there was no one else around. Every jump of muscles and twitch revealed something, and Leon wanted to see it all, to read every sign to know who he would be following this time.

“Tell me if this hurts.”

Wesker laughed, his voice breathless for the first time for Leon to hear. “What if I like it that way?”

This man would kill him one way or another—

“You really like to abuse your regeneration,” Leon grunted, the heat reaching his core but never enough. He couldn’t stop touching Wesker as if he tried to steal some of his warmth away for good, his nails tearing open the wounds that had already knitted back together to be nothing but angry red lines.

“You’ll learn to appreciate them as well.”

Leon knew that there was again something more behind those words but pushed them away. “Let me focus on appreciating your ass.”

Wesker’s fingers tangled in Leon’s hair, pulling him into a messy kiss. “Maybe this one time, partner.”

“Never thought I’d be doing this,” Leon sighed as he peeked behind the corner, unsure if a new empty corridor made him feel relieved or that there was something so much worse ahead that his misfortune doubled by every barren hallway and room.

“I thought you have visited so many underground laboratories that nothing can surprise you anymore.”

Leon rolled his eyes, trying not to steal a new glance of Wesker, who had left his long coat behind and wore well-fitting clothes without a kevlar vest that Leon had demanded to have. “I’m used to working alone. You make this worse and new.”

He had almost refused when he had heard that Wesker would accompany him. It made him feel like a criminal, Wesker’s presence a reminder that he couldn’t wash his hands clean and have clear consciousness anymore. Not that he had even been able to forget and leave the guilt behind, but now it’d be beyond any realm of his life.

“I can leave if you insist,” Wesker nodded towards his breast pocket, “I already have what I came to retrieve. But I don’t want you captured or killed.”

“You want proof that I’m not betraying you when the first opportunity arises.”

“I need to know if I can trust you with this.” Wesker’s voice was sharper, but its volume still low. “Besides, whether you believe it, I’m worried about you.”

If possible, it made Leon more nervous. He didn’t want to know what was waiting for them if Wesker was actually worried about his survival — this was the man who had thrown him a flamethrower and known that Leon would stay alive with it. And if Wesker was lying, why did he need Leon so much he was ready to lie even about a thing like that?

Wesker didn’t make him reply or react. They continued in the silence, the place eerily quiet and empty, and Leon couldn’t help but look for something that would tell him who owned the facility. The lack of Umbrella’s insignia was one thing, but there was probably a long list of other organizations he should be wary of.

“Fancy decor here.” Leon waved his hand, the hallway empty and without anything to hide behind if they were surrounded. “Who owns this place?” It felt useless to ask, but he decided to give it a try, though he didn’t believe that Wesker would tell him.

Instead, the man grinned, that predatory smile that made Leon feel like he had stepped into a trap. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

Leon sighed. “Wouldn’t be asking if I knew.”

Wesker didn’t say anything for a moment, not before he stopped at one of the door panels next to the locked door and tapped the touchscreen into a life. There read nothing except UNLOCK, but when Leon looked at Wesker, waiting for an explanation, Wesker pointed back to the screen with a nod.

No hints, then.

Leon returned to stare at the word waiting for the correct fingerprint, the dark background behind it. It was too bright to see much, but as he squinted, he could distinguish a shape in the background; spread wings, the circle around it all, a cluster of stars on the upper side of it—

“No fucking way.” Leon was so tired of this, the uncertainty of who he should trust and, even more importantly, not to trust scorching his mind. “Really?”

“I wonder how many in the government of the United States knows what kind of research they’re financing. They were the biggest customer of Umbrella, but they seem to have a goal to be materially independent in every sector nowadays.”

Leon wanted to be angry, have someone to shake from shoulders, and tell them how it was the worst idea they had ever had. But he had only Wesker, who really didn’t seem to be part of this, for now.

The fresh knowledge made Leon unsure of so many things, the questions bombarding his head after actually learning something.

STRAT had wanted him dead. Did that mean that he was somehow part of this, just unable to remember it? Was his infection a threat to this research, and was he connected to it? It seemed so if Wesker told him the truth; how else would he learn the truth here?

Would he really learn the truth about himself here if figuring out one thing led to countless new questions?

“We have to keep moving.” Wesker’s hand was stern and warm on Leon’s shoulder, pushing him to move and forcing him out of his head.

“You really want my head to explode.” There was no other explanation why Wesker didn’t just plant a bomb where they stood and leave. He wanted Leon to find out what was going on, even though it endangered them both.

“You’re the one who’s been asking questions non-stop for the last few weeks.”

“You could have just told me,” Leon hissed, pressing his back against the wall. “Now I’m expecting—”

His words died down as the next hallway wasn’t empty. He pulled back quickly, raising five fingers to show Wesker what they were facing.

He expected Wesker to show him another route, the map of the place still a mystery to Leon, maybe even show an example by running or sneaking past them. Yet, Wesker just smirked, that smug quirk of his lips, and took his gun out.

They weren’t going to fight to get past them, were they?

Leon had no time to ask as Wesker leaped to the hallway, past the corner, so Leon couldn’t see him without risking himself by taking a peek. The first shot made Leon wince, the way he knew it hit and killed someone who didn’t deserve that fate. There were yells, the hail of bullets hitting the wall close to Leon as they didn’t hit their target — Wesker.

It was impossible to imagine that Wesker could dodge everything thrown at him, but it was just as unbelievable to think that someone could have wounded him with a regular gun.

Leon knew that he should do something, save someone, but he didn’t know who. He was there with Wesker, but judging by the sounds, he wasn’t the one who was dying. Couldn’t they have just taken another route? These men were doing their job and nothing more, they weren’t guilty of anything else but obeying orders. They weren’t BOWs, they had a life and future.

When the sound of gunfire stopped, Leon couldn’t stop himself but peeked around the corner.

He saw Wesker’s back, how he holstered his gun again, looking like he didn’t have even a scratch on him. Behind Wesker, there were five bodies, and as Leon took a step closer, he could see their clothes, the globe on the shoulder of their sleeves.

BSAA. These people weren’t evil, their biggest sin was that they had learned that death was heroic and not a tragedy like it actually was.

“You didn’t have to kill them!” It wasn’t the right time, they had no time, but Leon felt like he had killed them himself. He had stood aside, knew that he’d do it again, and wasn’t ready to accept it. “We didn’t even look for an alternate route.”

Wesker raised his eyebrow high, a slight sneer on his face. “They wouldn’t have hesitated either.”

It was true, achingly so, because Leon was supposed to work with them, not stare at the barrel of their guns. Yet… “Those were unnecessary deaths.” His gaze moved over Wesker, scanning him to find wounds, bullet holes, finding none. He hated how relieved it made him feel. “Let’s avoid them if we can.”

“Avoid?” Even without seeing Wesker’s full expression, Leon was sure that the man was close to killing him too. “You, if anyone, should have learned what’ll happen if you try to save everyone.”

Leon never could save anyone. He knew it, and the words slashed deep, making him wince internally. But he couldn’t watch people die because of him, not even now. “Please.”

How low had he fallen.

Wesker smirked as he turned around, his jaw unclenching visibly, and Leon could see with his own two eyes that he had made a mistake. One that he couldn’t regret if it meant that he could save even one person.

“What a—” Wesker closed his eyes, his head jerking just enough so that Leon realized that the man was listening to something, perhaps even seeing someone behind him.

Not again. Do not kill someone again.

Leon had no time to be afraid for long. He knew that Wesker was looking at him, the burning red gaze like a physical touch on his skin, Leon holding his breath and not knowing what would happen next.

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Wesker fixed his pose, his steps faster than what Leon could follow, and only then did his mind register the gunshots.

First, they stood there, Wesker in the middle of fallen men. The next moment, Leon tried to hide from the bullets, nothing else but the corpses in the empty hallway to use as a cover. He tried to see something, meet the gazes of people who were shooting them though they didn’t need to, and keep an eye on Wesker, who was too fast, too agile.

Leon wanted to yell that they weren’t going to kill anyone, that he wanted no one to die when they weren’t fighting for zombies or BOWs but people he had learned to rely on. It would be useless, so he said nothing, trying to find a way to escape, refusing to use his gun.

It would have been so easy to follow the instincts that yelled at him to defend himself, defend the person with him. He had always been fighting, never having a chance not to shoot, and even now, he didn’t have it. If he tried, he would get clean shots, leave a pile of corpses behind as he had always done. It had been so much easier, but now he was on the wrong side, part of the bad guys, and Leon didn’t want to leave anyone—

Leave Claire to cry after losing his brother because Leon knew that gun, those features, those eyes. He knew Chris in his combat gear, meeting his gaze, and firing his gun like he didn’t know Leon at all.

It wasn’t too late to shoot back or try to dodge it, and Leon was still unable to move. He squeezed his eyes shut, his chest heavy, waiting for death as he was on his knees next to a dead BSAA soldier, inside a laboratory who belonged to the government, with Wesker, and not even knowing how to regret any of it.

He heard the shots, a soft grunt in front of him. He felt nauseous when he forced his eyes open, a shock hitting him and emptying his lungs.

Because there was no fucking way that Wesker had taken a bullet for him. It was the last thing that was supposed to happen.

And if it had happened, he would heal. There was no reason for Wesker to fall on his knees and bend forward, looking like he was in pain though he hadn’t shown pained reactions no matter how hard Leon had kicked and bitten him.

“Wesker!” Leon crawled forward, feeling like this had to be a bad joke.

He tried to reach to see where Wesker had been hit, but his hands were pushed away. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t sound fine, the pained rasp of his voice was audible for Leon, and he hated how helpless it made him feel. If Chris had managed to wound Wesker, what would he do to Leon?

There was no time to hide, no dodging bullets if they’d be fired again. Leon turned to look at Chris, feeling just as conflicted as the stare he met from the other side of the hallway.

“Chris!” Leon couldn’t stop it, though he felt like it was useless. “We’re not here to fight!”

He saw the frown, the downturned lips, how everything was wrong and nothing was right. They were supposed to be friends, fighting together when it was necessary.

They weren’t enemies. They had tried to bake Claire a cake for her birthday together, failing miserably though Chris had managed to save it with lots of whipped cream and nonpareil. Leon had kept Chris busy with a drinking game and stupid questions when Claire had wanted to make out with some guy in the restroom. They shared this fear, the nightmares, the hopes that would never be fulfilled, and now Leon tried to ask Chris not to shoot Wesker one more time because it wouldn’t help anyone.

He didn’t get to know if Chris would have taken that shot for him as Wesker did.

The heavy blast doors closed in front of Leon, forcing him to scramble back, and he froze to stare at the doors, wondering if it was a good or bad sign. Were they saved, or did this mean that they were already dead?

“Leon.”

At least Wesker was alive, but Leon feared to turn around and face him. He still couldn’t accept that Wesker had saved him, what it meant to them, how Leon could ever pay it back. It made him think of Ada, how Leon had taken a bullet for her in the sewers, but this felt so much bigger. Wesker was a snake, and though he could wrap around Leon and squeeze, he wasn’t supposed to be ready to get hurt to save him.

“Why did you do it?” Leon swirled around, his breath getting stuck in his throat as he saw Wesker leaning heavily against the wall.

There weren’t thoughts, only worry as Leon’s feet took him closer, seeing red where Wesker pressed his hand against his side. His sleeve was wet from blood, dropping onto the floor as a steady rain of droplets.

“Can I do something?” He reached closer but halted because he didn’t know if Wesker wanted anyone to touch him when he was hurt. “Can you, uh, regenerate, or do you need more time before we move on?”

They had no time. Leon knew it as soon as he saw Wesker’s bloody handprint where he had overridden the safety measures to close the fire door, so it was to save them and buy them more time.

“They have P-ε cartridges,” Wesker grunted through his teeth. When Leon kept just staring, still trying to understand, Wesker raised his hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose where it was visible from under his sunglasses. “You might have heard about anti-BOW rounds.”

Leon swallowed. “Then why did you take them for me?”

“This slows down my regenerative abilities. We have to move on so they don’t find us again.”

“Wesker.” Leon knew this wasn’t the right time or place, but he felt like throwing up, like his mind couldn’t take much more before breaking.

Perhaps he already knew the answer.

Even when Wesker’s lips curled into an annoyed sneer, Leon dragged the arm of his unwounded side over his shoulder to help Wesker walk.

“They would have hurt me worse, right?”

“Correct.” Wesker tilted his chin to the left. “That way. We have to get to the control room.”

“If you tell me that you told me, fine, you were right,” Leon huffed as he helped Wesker sit down in the middle of the control room, trying to ignore how shallow and fast Wesker’s breathing was.

It seemed that Wesker wasn’t too seriously wounded because he flashed a tired smirk, though it looked more like a grimace. “It’s not just your choice whether to kill or not.”

Leon couldn’t help himself. He took a step closer, reaching for Wesker’s sunglasses, taking them off when he wasn’t stopped, to his surprise.

Wesker glared at him. “If you aren’t ready to fight and be strong, you’ll be killed.”

“Not everyone is that cruel,” Leon said, though he wasn’t sure if he could believe in it himself. He had believed that he didn’t fight in a hopeless war, that there were always people ready to help and support him if he got over his pride and worry and dared to ask. But he had been shown how wrong he was, how he had no one else but Wesker. And Wesker… wasn’t the one to believe in human kindness, though Leon wasn’t sure if he could blame the man.

Wesker didn’t deserve pity, everything else but that, but had he really ever had anyone he could trust with his life and not expect that precious human contact to be over sooner or later?

“What do you want me to do?” Leon knew that he could never be that person for Wesker, but he wouldn’t give up on him. Not now, and he could change his mind later if it was necessary. “Will you recover?”

“I’m not dying,” Wesker said, his voice tense, and Leon wondered how many times he had been seriously wounded. He had died, but he seemed so untouchable, so distant with his sunglasses like it was impossible for the pain to reach him. “You shall continue. I’ll catch you up later after starting the self-destruction sequence.”

“Why did you need me in the first place?”

“Perhaps I didn’t.”

Leon’s heart twisted, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good feeling or not. “Which way?”

Wesker cut his chin toward the door on the opposite wall from where they came from. “I’ll guide you through your comms. Keep it on.”

Leon should have left because he felt like his head was exploding, but perhaps it was why he didn’t. He had no idea what he was, if they could get out alive because it was a miracle that Leon was still unwounded, and he couldn’t even start deciphering how scared he was because Wesker was still bleeding, his every motion looking pained and difficult.

Still, it felt like a good (and still the worst) idea to bend down to kiss Wesker, to feel how he felt even hotter than usual under Leon’s touch.

Wesker made a short, surprised sound against Leon’s lips but didn’t push him away, and when Leon just couldn’t make himself pull away just yet either, he felt Wesker’s hand, sticky from his blood, stroking his cheek before taking hold of his neck.

“I’m flattered that you can’t keep your distance, but you should already be going,” Wesker said against his lips, not sounding as dry as he obviously tried.

Leon didn’t want to lose that touch, the heat under his hands tempting but also alerting. “Had to give you something to think of.”

“Mmm, sure, of course.” The sarcastic words lacked the sharpest edge, and Leon couldn’t stop the bang of worry inside him. Whatever would follow, he didn’t want Wesker to die on him.

“I’m surprised you’re not steaming.” Leon tilted his head, not letting go of Wesker’s gaze. “You fucking better call me if you’re dying.”

Wesker rolled his eyes, but his gaze wasn’t as hard as Leon was used to seeing it. “I won’t die this easily. You know how many have tried to kill me, and I won’t give Redfield the joy.”

“Chris would deserve it.” Leon smiled and meant it, even though he had no idea what he would do if Wesker died and he was still wanted dead.

“Just go already. We don’t have the whole day.”

“Why so?” Leon snickered, feeling like the weight on his shoulder was a bit lighter. “You have something else you want to do?”

Wesker didn’t reply, but Leon still lingered at the door, his palm rubbing against the handle as he didn’t want to leave.

“Just go.” Wesker sighed and waved towards the screen in front of him. “I can see everything from here.”

“Just don’t screw me up.” As if it was what Leon was afraid of. “I don’t want to get lost in this maze.”

“You already know that I don’t want you to die.”

Leon knew.

Leon felt lucky when he didn’t run into Chris again. He wasn’t sure what he would have done, the doubts sitting in his chest and not letting go even when he ran for his life and hid in the closet, cracking a few jokes for Wesker to hear to keep his nerves at bay.

It was dangerously calming to have Wesker in his ear, telling him directions, his voice getting stronger as the minutes ticked by. Leon had been barely used to Hannigan, always relieved yet feeling like he had been abandoned to survive all alone, but Wesker’s professional and calm voice had an entirely different effect on him.

He’d feel so lonely when this would be over. Because whatever Leon would learn today, he couldn’t help but feel that it would lead either to his death or him finding some kind of a cure if he was exceptionally lucky. There was no future for this, no matter how Leon wasn’t hating this trial and the side he was working on as much as he should.

“Where from here?” Leon asked, leaning onto the wall next to the door that had signs of someone breaking in before.

“The main laboratory is just next to you.”

Leon’s heart froze. “And I’m supposed to go in?”

“That’s what you’ve wanted the whole time.”

“That sounds bad.” He swallowed. “Okay, going in.”

“I’ll come get you when the time’s right.” Wesker sounded like he wasn’t worried, though Leon was used to meeting the biggest and ugliest creatures in places like this. “You might not be able to reach me before that.”

“You’re not going to feed me to some hungry BOW?”

Wesker chuckled. “There’s nothing worse than what you are.”

It… didn’t make Leon feel any better. He tightened his grip around the grip of his gun and nodded, wondering if Wesker saw him through the CCTV. “Roger.”

After taking a deep breath and focusing on the task at hand, Leon reached for the door, pushing it open as the broken lock didn’t allow it to close entirely anymore. He pointed his gun at the empty room, the small office without anybody occupying the computer behind the desk.

It felt like the calm before the storm, a last sliver of normalcy in the shape of a colorful coffee mug and family picture on the desk as he walked through the room that was too cramped and still offering perfect hiding places for someone or something that wanted to maul him.

He kept his gun up as he crossed the room, but nothing had attacked him as he got to the other side of it. He had no time to prepare himself to step to the next room, one that looked bigger through frosted glass, as the automatic doors hissed open in front of him, the chilly air washing over him and making him shiver.

“Foot in front of the other,” Leon muttered under his breath, trying to kill the dread creeping into his limbs as he glanced at the room.

Large tanks, one next to one another, were on both sides of the metal walkway, and through the holes of it, Leon could see that there was something that looked like a bottomless shaft under him.

Typical. If you saw one underground facility, you had seen them all.

He continued forward, keeping his steps light. The creatures inside the tanks tempted him to gravitate closer as he tried not to look at them but failed again and again. Some of them were human-sized, their shape resembling a humanoid but their features soft and flat, as if not fully developed yet or already melted away. Most of the tanks glowed with green, the panels next to them showing statistics that Leon couldn’t read.

A few panels were dark, the tanks either empty of something in the bottom of them, perhaps waiting to be cleaned and dumped away. Everyone should already know what would happen to the environment and then to people, as whatever these things were would end up causing the next disaster.

He tried to ignore the ones that looked the most human, their hair flowing in the liquid, nails on their fingers, eyebrows above their closed eyes. They seemed too human, and Leon couldn’t decide if he wanted to save or burn them. He just knew that he could never forget this sight, not without blowing his brain up onto the wall in the process.

He was focused on the sight that made his hands shake, but when he saw a shadow from his peripheral, his gun was back up. He aimed at whoever was there with him, waiting to be attacked by the creatures or the person who had created them.

The weight of the gun in his hand helped suppress the shaking, empty his head, and focus on whatever truth he’d find behind this. It didn’t matter that the gun was wrong, it wasn’t Silver Ghost, but no one could afford to say that Wesker didn’t have a proper arsenal to choose from.

“Lower your gun.”

The voice was familiar, so fucking familiar, but Leon couldn’t combine it with any face he knew. “Why would I?”

“Because I don’t want to shoot you.”

Whoever it was, knew how to move silently. Leon tried to focus on listening to the footsteps but couldn’t pinpoint where exactly this person was, more and more tanks everywhere he looked.

It wasn’t anyone from BSAA because — with all love — those men didn’t know how to move quietly in their heavy gear.

“Are you sure that you can hit me?” Leon taunted, trying to buy himself time and figure out who was against him. Part of his traitorous mind hoped that Wesker was there with him, making him feel safer, someone having his back when he didn’t know who he should fight against.

“I want to think so, but…” The man (judging by his voice) hesitated a moment. “I think I could, but we both would end up with a bullet hole somewhere, so I’d prefer to skip that step.”

It was somehow familiar and still so foreign, and Leon couldn’t wrap his mind around it. He couldn’t figure out who it was, though he was sure that he knew this person who stepped to reveal himself from behind one of the tanks—

Leon knew him. He knew Leon, but as much as he knew that this was an answer alone, he understood nothing anymore.

“Drop your gun,” the man holding his gun — Leon’s gun, because he could recognize Silver Ghost anywhere — spread his arms slowly, not aiming at him anymore. “Neither of us gain anything if we shoot each other.”

He wasn’t supposed to obey, to listen to this man who was him, whatever it meant, but Leon felt like someone was tearing his chest open, his ribs cracking. His heart felt like it was squeezed until it exploded everywhere, a mess of him all over the glass of those tanks.

“So you’re the one who’ll explain what the fuck is going on,” Leon said without question in his voice as he lowered his gun, holstering it because he knew that he wouldn’t need it anytime soon. He already knew that he wasn’t— wasn’t the one— wasn’t— “What a fucking joke.”

“I said the same.” The man — who was Leon, who was him, what the fuck was this? — let out a mirthless chuckle. “And I had it easier.”

So did that mean…

“I’m not some copy of you.” He wasn’t one of those creatures in the tanks. “I can remember everything. I lived it all.”

Just like he remembered his dark blood. How fast he healed. How he felt like he was really alive only when he was warm, stealing the heat of Wesker’s body whenever he dared.

“They really had to transfer all the traumas as well, huh.”

“They?” He’d rip them into pieces and feed those parts back to them. He wanted the people who did this to pay over and over again so they’d understand what he was feeling right now, though he wasn’t supposed to hurt anyone. Was he the one becoming a monster? “You know who did this?”

”Have a hunch,” Leon replied, looking around. “But the real culprits covered their tracks well. At least they aren’t making more of you.”

“Us.”

God, it was fucked up.

“Yeah. Us,” Leon looked down, his hair covering his expression, and it was again one more thing they shared; don’t let anyone see how much you’re hurting. “They built you from scratch, so you don’t have to worry that you’re… someone else inside. It was too expensive as you were useless when you went rogue, so they scrapped the project in the form they had planned to run it.”

“‘Went rogue’? They tried to kill me, and I ran.”

“I know. They planned to put you against Umbrella as soon as they had transferred the BOW away from the site, but you were all stuck in the same place. I’m not jealous of that job.” There was a bitter smile on Leon’s face, one he could almost feel on his own too. “I know and that’s why I’m having this conversation and not filling you with lead.”

Leon squeezed his hands into fists, trying to stop them from shaking and failing. He had no idea what to do, what he was even supposed to want. He wasn’t real, everything he could remember was just borrowed memories that felt like they were his life. He had no friends, he had no one, he had been alive for barely a few weeks… “Did you agree to this?”

“What do you think? Of fucking course not,” Leon huffed, Silver Ghost still in his hand. It was his gun, their gun, but there was one of it and two of them. “We don’t have too much time before Chris wants to know where I ran. I’m here to offer you a way to get out of this alive.”

Did he even deserve it? He wasn’t real, he was a bio-organic weapon meant for— for whatever people who created him had wanted to do with him. “Why? You can’t be sure that I won’t mutate and try to kill everyone.”

“I’ll take the risk.” Leon grinned, a wide mirthless smile making him look only sadder.

“You must know that I’m here with Wesker. I don’t exactly act mentally stable and play it safe.” Why was he sabotaging himself? He had no idea, but it seemed to make his original self only more certain.

“You might have a chance to keep him in line. Warn us in time. Or something, I don’t know. But it won’t be worse than what we have now.”

He wasn’t like Wesker, not a double agent, not fond of lying. “He’ll figure it out.”

“Then play by his rules. If you’re me, you know where we draw the line.”

They both knew about Ada, about viruses they had given her without a fight. They both carried it all with them, unable to forget and let go of guilt.

Leon felt the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile. “If I do, at least one of us has someone.”

“Oh fuck you, shut up.” Leon dragged his hand down his face, looking like he didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. It was such a familiar feeling. “You really know me thoroughly. Sorry ’bout that.”

Talking about Wesker had made him remember that they didn’t have eternity to sort this out; some questions would have to be left unanswered. As the red alert lights lit the room, the distant voice starting the countdown, he knew that he had to accept this for now and save his skin. He could break down later. “The place’ll blow up sooner rather than later. I’m alone here because Wesker’s dealing with it.”

“No complaints.” Leon nodded. “We can arrange this so that I’ll report that you died in the explosion.”

That was— “I have no idea why you trust me.”

“If I can’t trust myself, who else is there to trust?”

It stung. It was like daggers through his heart because he would have done the same. “Thank you.”

“You know how to contact me if there’s something important.”

They both knew that he knew because they were the same. They knew how they worked, at least as long as they didn’t change too much, walk different roads of their lives until they couldn’t recognize who they were now.

Leon’s gaze flickered over his shoulder, the grip around Silver Ghost visibly tighter. “Your ride arrived.”

He turned to look over his shoulder, Wesker leaning against the wall close to the door, watching them with bored amusement. So he had known the whole time. Of course he had.

“Have fun with him.” They both nodded when their eyes met the one last time, the familiarity so different from what he had been facing through the mirror.

“Jealous?”

“I admit nothing,” Leon snorted, shaking his head. Then, he lowered his tone. “Don’t let him destroy the world. Otherwise… it’s not like we’ve ever managed to stop anything. We just clean up the mess.”

“Take care.” He swallowed, looking away because it wasn’t supposed to be difficult to say goodbye to himself. But it felt like he was leaving everything behind, everything he had thought he was, and he was scared of the unknown. “I’ll miss them all.”

“I’m sorry.”

There wasn’t more to say, the mechanical voice informing them that they had lost another minute.

Leon didn’t look back. He didn’t know who he was or what would come, but he wasn’t alone. Even though he had lost everything, he still had Wesker.

“Let’s go.”

His eyes scanned Wesker, his wounds, and he couldn’t be embarrassed by this worry anymore. He could decide who he cared for all by himself.

“I’m almost better than new,” Wesker drawled, pushing himself away from the wall.

“Good.” Leon nodded, flashing a tired smile. “Because we need to make sure that everyone believes that I died here, and I think you can help me with that.”

He expected the world to feel different. But the wind against his face was the same, the smell of spring everywhere, the world not stopping just for him.

And Wesker was the same, refusing to let Leon drive, keeping him at arm’s length only for Leon not to take any of it when the door behind them shut again. He felt different but was the same as before, he had no idea if he had a right to use the name that was his but wasn’t given to him, but something was clear in his mind, and he focused on it.

“Sit down and take your shirt off. I’ll get the first-aid kit.” This once, Wesker wasn’t allowed to slither away. When he didn’t even try, Leon took it as a sign that he was more severely wounded than he let on. “Do you need something special for… for your specialty?”

Wesker snickered silently, the movement making his brows furrow. “Nothing that you can handle now. Just the basics.”

Leon hadn’t expected that he knew even half of Wesker’s abilities, so he shrugged his words off for now, gathering everything he needed, scrubbing his hands clean just to be sure. He had no idea if Wesker could be infected by some common bacteria, but Leon wasn’t going to take a risk.

When he returned from the bathroom, his steps halted before he could force them to continue. He had no idea if it was because he only now realized what he was doing or the dark red, almost black wounds on Wesker’s side and shoulder, the lines that drew from the injury towards his heart were dark against the pale skin.

It looked like it should kill Wesker, but judging by how the man was just eyeing them, looking just annoyed, it apparently wasn’t that bad.

“How long will it take for you to heal?” Leon asked as he crouched next to the chair, grabbing a disinfectant first.

“I removed the bullets soon after you left, so two to three days.”

Leon didn’t want to imagine Wesker digging his nails into these wounds to get the bullets out. Though, seeing how Wesker’s nails weren’t dirtied with blood, Leon decided that there must have been some better way to get rid of them. Wesker was too tidy to dirty his hands that way.

“Why so?” Leon made the mistake of looking up, only to see Wesker’s inhuman gaze on him. “You have something on your mind?”

What he wouldn’t have on his mind?

Leon sighed and shook his head, returning his focus to Wesker’s side, his muscles tensing under his touch, but there wasn’t any other sign that he was in pain. Leon knew where he could take this, what to do to avoid facing the fact that he had no idea who and what exactly he was, but what did he want?

He swallowed a sigh, glancing at Wesker and wondering what would happen if he left. Now that he knew the truth, he was allowed to leave, or at least Wesker hadn’t made a move to stop him. If Leon stayed, would he be used because of what he was? Why would someone like Wesker even want a copy of something that existed for real?

This was why Ada had left. Ada had the real Leon, she had made her choice. She had known the difference. Even though Leon preferred blonds, he already missed her.

…Had he always preferred blonds? It was a good question, entirely unnecessary and stupid, but he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something unique in him. If he wanted there to be different in the first place.

He hadn’t had time for relationships in his life (in the life that had never been his), but his first girlfriend had had dirty blond hair, and then there had been Krauser, who was almost as pale as Wesker and fuck if Leon didn’t remember what it had felt to have his breath taken away by those hands—

He choked out a snort that he couldn’t keep inside as he knew he would be panicking if he didn’t have to focus on cleaning the bullet holes that had already started to close on their own.

“Do you mind sharing?”

“No, sure, I just,” Leon tried not to laugh because he knew how hysterical he sounded, “just realized that you’re my type. And that means that you’re the real Leon’s type as well. So I guess I didn’t draw only short straws after all.”

“Your type?” Wesker repeated, looking like Leon had lost his mind. He probably had. “Wounded blond men who can beat you up? That would explain Krauser.”

Leon glared at Wesker and tried to ignore how much Wesker’s statement said about him. “It wasn’t me with Krauser. Perhaps I wouldn’t have been able to kill him if it was me. I’ll never find out because that wasn’t me.” The bitterness seeping into his voice wasn’t something he expected, but there was no stopping it.

“You’re who you are because your mind is created to think you were in Spain and killed him.” Wesker said it so effortlessly, sounding certain like Leon was stupid at questioning his whole existence. “You’re not any less than the one whose physical body was part of that fight.”

“But I’m a copy. One they meant to scrap.” He wasn’t even a human.

Wesker sighed, his fingers touching Leon’s chin and stopping him from looking down and hiding his expression. “Those people consider me a bio-organic weapon more than a human, and I’m still beating them in their own game because I have the better version of you here with me. You have all the same knowledge, you’re just as talented as a former rookie cop who the government wanted to fight for them, but you’re stronger because that’s how you were built. All we have to do is find how much power they’ve hidden inside you.”

It was— disturbing, but Leon barely could stop himself from crooning under the praise. He knew that it was dangerous, he was way too vulnerable to listen to Wesker right now without believing things that weren’t true, but it didn’t stop it from feeling so good. It made the ice in his veins feel like part of it melted away.

He wasn’t good with compliments. No one had ever given them without wanting something back.

“Albert Wesker comforting someone after they found out that they shouldn’t be alive? Never imagined this day to come.”

Wesker narrowed his eyes. “I’m not saying these things for your comfort, Leon. They’re true, and you’re useless to me if you decide to drown in doubts that you have no reason to feel.”

“Thanks anyway, I guess.” Leon shrugged, deciding to take what he could. He had no idea what to do, how he was supposed to live and see himself, so he would try to do what he had promised to his real self.

And, to be entirely honest, just thinking of leaving and being alone made him feel like he was dying.

Neither of them said more before Leon had cleaned Wesker’s wounds and bandaged them, trying not to show how the irritated and dead-looking skin made him wonder what would have happened to him if Wesker didn’t take the bullets for him.

Now that Leon knew, now that he couldn’t deny what he was, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would have died.

“How long have you known?”

Wesker stopped the motion as he tried to stretch his unwounded shoulder. “The entire time. Why so?”

Leon wasn’t surprised, he couldn’t even be disappointed. He had come to Wesker because he had known, and it would be worse if Wesker had deceived him. Right?

“I still don’t get why you helped me. It’s not like I can do anything you can’t.” Leon sighed, pushing himself to sit on the edge of the table and ignoring Wesker’s unhappy expression. It wasn’t like he could complain since Leon had fucked him against the same table, for fuck’s sake.

“I think that there’s more to you than meets the eye,” Wesker hummed, not hiding how he dragged his gaze over Leon. “If it satisfies your curiosity, let’s say that I haven’t met many others who aren’t human but don’t mutate when wounded.”

His hand pressed against Leon’s knee, sliding up, and Leon repeated in his head that Wesker was hurt and he shouldn’t get any ideas.

“We worked for years to perfect viruses to create a biological weapon that could follow strict orders, obey its program, and have intelligence. As you surely know, T-virus’ nature isn’t fitting for that as it declines the subjects’ brain capacity. That’s when the G-virus research started and, well, you know how it ended.”

“And then there are Plagas.” Leon had no idea why Wesker was telling him any of this, but he couldn’t help but remember how the Ganados had been intelligent. They were controlled, and Leon had been close to becoming one of them. He hadn’t even been there, but he still remembered the tearing pain when the Plaga had curled to grow around his spine.

“Mind control sounds great until we have to test how many subjects it’s possible to control in the first place and what’ll happen to the infected ones in the long run if the Dominant Plagas are killed.” Wesker nodded, the way he talked about it was like he was thinking of a scientific experiment and nothing more.

It made Leon’s skin crawl, but he knew what he had signed up for in the first place.

“But now there’s you. With all the experience and knowledge your predecessor has, with a unique fighting experience and without deteriorating intelligence. I’m not sure they realized what they created.”

“A monster?” Leon suggested, still unable to wrap his mind around the fact that Wesker was talking about him. It felt like Wesker was feeding him information to ensure that Leon would stay on his side, be a tool to use, and he couldn’t deny that it made him feel better though it shouldn’t.

Wesker’s gaze hardened, but it felt like it wasn’t meant for Leon. “You’re better than any of them. I can show you that.”

So, they were back to their deal. Leon let out a shuddering breath as Wesker’s hand slid up his thigh, the thumb running over his front almost like an accident. Knowing Wesker, it was as intentional as everything he did.

“Are you that happy with how I pushed you against this table and fucked you until you couldn’t talk?” Leon asked just to avoid answering the unasked question. He already knew what he’d reply, but he— he wasn’t ready to take that step, to see where that would lead.

“That’s one of your more endearing traits, but it wasn’t like you could leave me speechless.” Wesker smiled, knowing exactly what his hand was doing. “You need to try harder to achieve that. But you know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Leon’s head dropped back as he tried to stop his hips from bucking into the touch. This wasn’t the right time, Wesker was wounded, and Leon himself had so much to think about. He wouldn’t be able to escape his thoughts forever, and he needed the distraction then.

“Well?”

“I need more time,” Leon gasped, Wesker’s fingers leaving him.

“It won’t change anything.”

He knew. He knew it so well, just like he knew that this was his life, not the one he had imagined to live. He should get used to this, find his place, and know where he stood with Wesker.

Leon slid on his feet, pulled another chair from under the table, and sat down facing the backrest. It was a shield between him and Wesker’s knowing gaze, and the fact that Leon was hard in his pants and trying to ignore it the best he could.

“Okay.” He nodded, not looking away. “Tell me everything I need to know.”

The corner of Wesker’s mouth jerked. “So you think that you deserve more information than you already have? Wasn’t what you learned today enough?”

Leon wouldn’t back down. “If I work for you, I need to know who you work for. Who you’re going to betray. What kind of BOWs you’re planning to release in the wild.”

Wesker raised his eyebrows as if he couldn’t believe it, but Leon had lost everything.

“I have no reason to betray you because you’re all I got.” Fuck, it hurt to say aloud. “I work better the more I know. If you leave me in the dark, I’ll accidentally sabotage you.”

“What else do you want?” Wesker drawled, and Leon could see how the man wasn’t ready to trust him completely. “The phone numbers of the CEOs? DNA charts?”

“I’ll keep an eye on you. I’ll probably try to stop you.” If he lied now, he wouldn’t have anything ever again. “But as long as I know your reasons, contracts, and who you’re planning to destroy next, I won’t try to hinder you just for the joy of it.”

It was a risk. He had no idea if Wesker was curious enough to agree to this, not to kick him out or decide to kill him after helping him so much. There wasn’t a reason for Wesker to agree because they were similar this way; they worked the best alone, without anyone to worry about, without distractions.

But Leon needed this, and if he couldn’t get it— well, he’d figure out something. Hopefully.

The silence lasted long, and Leon wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing. Wesker didn’t hurry with his answer, it was like he was thinking it through and through, or perhaps he was trying to decide how to skin Leon alive, see how much he could regenerate before dying.

Could he— could he go through the same as Wesker? It was impossible, but Leon didn’t know what would kill him. It was enough that he knew that Wesker could take his life easily, no matter how complicated the process.

He wanted Wesker to agree. To have a reason to fight, to continue, to follow someone. Leon needed a direction, something that could make him hope to save at least one person in this world, and if it meant that he had to go to the source of the chaos… He welcomed it.

Perhaps Wesker had manipulated him, made him trusting when he shouldn’t be, but whether Leon was a human or not, he didn’t like to be alone.

“Please.” Leon broke the silence, swallowing as his throat felt too tight to breathe. “I need this, but these are my conditions.”

“One thing at the time,” Wesker said, his lips curling unhappily. “You have to earn it.”

Leon could try. He had nothing but his life that didn’t feel like his, and he needed something else than loneliness and despair to build back who he was. To see if he really was who he imagined being, who he had been created to replicate.

Besides, he had promised Leon. He knew how much they had fought to get where they were, how the endless stream of BOWs was waiting for them both, and if even one person could be saved this way…

“If I suspect that you’re not keeping your end of the deal, I’ll rebel,” Leon said, raising his hand to run his fingers through Wesker’s hair, the locks stiff from the gel. He wanted to make those walls crack, get inside, and make Wesker need him too.

“You really like to mess with my hair.” Wesker looked unimpressed but didn’t push him away.

Leon shrugged, a smile tickling his lips. “Gotta have some fun if I’m going to obey your stupid commands.”

“Commands that’ll keep you alive if you follow them.”

“You should have learned from Ada that I— he— whatever, it’s not easy to make things happen as you wish.”

Wesker was on his feet before Leon had time to end his sentence, his hand grabbing Wesker’s hairs tighter almost instinctively as he was pulled into a searing kiss.

The ice inside him dissolved, the heat of Wesker’s bare skin under his hand that Leon slid to feel the strong muscles on Wesker’s back made his head dizzy. The mouth against his own was so warm too, a swipe of tongue like a lick of fire, and Leon shivered, his nails scraping against Wesker’s scalp.

“Fuck.”

Wesker hummed into Leon’s mouth, stealing a few words from his lips.

“—why am I so cold?”

“It seems that your design isn’t about enhancing your metabolism and everything that comes with it, but reserving energy and emitting it with bursts when necessary.” Wesker’s lips moved against Leon’s when he talked. “I really wish to see you learn to control that.”

Leon knew that he was just an experiment, he might mean nothing to Wesker, but he wanted to be special. To be strong enough to impress Wesker, to be important to him like the original Leon was for the government. Perhaps it made him a hopeless case, nothing but a tool with no happy ending, but he was too tired to bury those thoughts.

He was so far gone that there was no saving him anymore. Either he’d learn to live with what he was or be killed. Being a BOW and a clone didn’t make it any different, not with how he couldn’t remember what it was to live without feeling like this life could shatter at any moment.

“I’ll stay here for you to see it all,” Leon muttered, arching into the warmth, accepting that he would never get enough of it. “Just don’t fuck this up by thinking that I don’t see right through you.”

“Then what do you think that I want right now?”

“To use me,” Leon answered without hesitation, knowing that it included so many things. He pulled back to gaze at the bandages, knowing that whatever Wesker thought of his condition, it was better to play it safe. There was no need to hurt him more. “Wanna start by letting me ride you?”

Wesker’s eyes were red, the pupils looking almost normal with how dilated they were.

“If I’m going to live this life, I don’t want to hold back with small joys like this,” Leon continued, sliding his fingertips along Wesker’s waistband, resisting the urge to open his pants right away. “I want to ruin you and see you cracking because you’re an old man who can’t come like he used to—”

Wesker opened his mouth, and Leon let a breathless laugh escape from him, some of the earlier hysteria leaving him finally.

“—and I guess that you can do the same. Just don’t use this against me, so I won’t do that either.”

“You seem to underestimate me.”

Leon grinned as he fell to his knees, knowing that he was a lost case, but this was the only way he could imagine actually seeing from Wesker’s face what he was thinking about. “I don’t give up before I see the desired result.”

Wesker huffed a sigh through his nose but nodded. “I’ve always liked the stubborn ones the best.”

“Oh?” Leon opened Wesker’s pants, ignored the blood on them, especially because he knew that some were Wesker’s, and slipped his fingers under the waistband. “Did you fuck Chris or the other way around?”

It seemed to leave Wesker wordless for a moment that Leon used the only way he could make those seconds count. Ignoring the inviting warmth that called him to press his palms against Wesker and bask in the sensation, he pulled the underwear down just enough to use his mouth, running his lips along the velvety skin.

“Redfield was too dense to read between the lines.”

Leon snorted before wrapping his hand around the base of Wesker’s cock and letting his lips press teasingly against the tip. “Sounds like Chris, alright.” He had managed to ignore more than a handful of Leon’s drunken and not-so-subtle hints. “But don’t continue talking about him as I get my mouth occupied.”

The hardening length on Leon’s tongue made him feel like he could do something right, the heat against his lips tempted him to press closer. It had been forever since he had done this, he had never been the one deciding the pace as Krauser’s hand in his hair had made sure that he couldn’t escape though it had felt like he was choking.

He expected Wesker to take the lead, grab his hair and fuck his mouth was the only way he knew, but the man just observed him, the glowing eyes following his every move. It wasn’t like Wesker was trying to hide his arousal, his cock in Leon’s mouth would have argued against it, but he wanted to see where Leon would take it.

Leon was the one who had started it, after all.

He knew that he wasn’t perfect. Lots of his concentration went to making mental notes about what made Wesker react, what he seemed to like, trying not to choke when he wanted to feel Wesker’s heat as much as possible. He couldn’t help but wonder how chilly his skin felt, if he was cold all over, but Wesker didn’t complain.

Even if Leon was as cold as death, he was alive. Wesker had died once, even though the heat on his skin made him feel so different, something entirely else than the zombies Leon had escaped for his life.

Perhaps they could give each other something. They weren’t pieces made to fit together, there was still so much Leon didn’t know, but…

He could work with it.

“You really trust that woman? She’ll poison you at the first opportunity,” Leon grumbled, swirling his knife in his hand, unable to look Wesker in the eye. They had come so far, but still something this small made him feel like he was ready to jump on the walls.

“I knew that you would disagree,” Wesker sighed, pressing the fingertips of his fore and middle finger against his temples. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“You should have,” Leon argued, feeling a sting of panic. “You might die if she overdoses you.”

“Leon.” Wesker’s voice had a hard edge. “I know what I’m doing. If you can’t control your jealousy, we can’t—”

“My what?”

“I haven’t forgotten what you did after the first time you met Excella Gionne.” Did Wesker have the nerve to sound amused? “I don’t care how possessive you feel, but you need to stay professional.”

“I’m not possessive,” Leon grunted, unsure if it was true. He knew better than well that he didn’t own Wesker, he never could and didn’t want to, but Wesker was the only one who mattered. Who had been there the whole time when Leon was sure that he’d had a mental breakdown when finding out how no one seemed to be innocent of being mixed into the BOW business, when he had accepted who he was and how his body worked.

Wesker cocked a brow but said nothing. 

“Even if I am, you’re asking for it by working for her. She’s above you, a fucking CEO, and she treats you like a lump of flesh.”

“We have a business agreement, and I’m holding my end of it,” Wesker replied, looking at Leon like he was nothing but a puppy trying to protect the enormous and venomous snake. “That’s all.”

Leon grimaced and grabbed the handle of the knife, driving the blade into the armrest of his chair. He knew that Wesker could handle it, that he probably used Gionne as much as she used Wesker, but it didn’t mean that Leon had to like it. He had to stay in the shadows, be nothing but an invisible bodyguard in the best case when it came to business, and it alone was more than he had expected from Wesker.

“Why TRICELL, though? Why do you have to work for them?” Leon wasn’t surprised to hear that another company that was trusted and funded the fucking BSAA was actually developing BOWs, but it had left a bitter taste in his mouth. “You could have something bigger. You already know the recipe for your wonder serum.”

Wesker was quiet for a moment, and Leon knew that he was trying to form a new unshared secret to sound something that wouldn’t leave Leon wanting to kill something, but he never was sure who or what.

“I’ve been tracking down someone I have to meet.” Wesker’s fingers tapped the surface of his desk, one of the only ways Leon could distinguish some hesitation in Wesker’s actions. “Someone difficult to find, and I have to use all the resources I have.”

It was… unexpected. It didn’t sound like Wesker, throwing everything away for someone. Even though Wesker’s body language screamed to Leon not to ask, the guarded tension of his shoulders keeping him away, he knew not to back down. Since he started to work with Wesker, he had learned about the man and about himself, and if Leon had a habit, it was not letting something like this go.

“Who is it?”

He had his mind full of ideas that all sounded worse than the last, but he pushed them away. He knew that Wesker would answer because he had already given him this much.

“I’m sure that you know who Oswell E. Spencer is.”

Leon knew, but it didn’t make any more sense.

Leon wasn’t supposed to be there. Wesker had told him to stay away, and when they stood in the middle of a pile of corpses of Spencer’s guards, the lightning brightening the dark hallway time and time again, Leon almost expected to be killed.

“This isn’t for your eyes, Leon,” Wesker hissed on his face, the grasp around Leon’s throat tight but not turning his world entirely black.

“I’m not leaving,” Leon gasped, his nails pressing into Wesker’s familiar forearm, the touch alone a reminder of what they were supposed to be to each other.

Not friends, not lovers, not even colleagues. Acquaintances with benefits was the only phrase Leon could think of, and still, it was more than he had maybe ever had. Wesker was distant enough that Leon could read him easily, his own emotions not trying to get the better of him because he had learned not to expect anything.

And for him, Wesker was like a better version of the therapist that Leon couldn’t have trusted when he had been offered an appointment by his former employer (the one who his real version still served). He trusted Wesker to keep quiet about everything he heard, and if he used all that information somehow for his own goals, Leon couldn’t care less.

Not even when Wesker could have crushed his windpipe and left him to lie there for an hour or two before his body could have regenerated enough to move again safely.

“You don’t know as much as you think.” Wesker’s glare was so red it felt like it burned right through Leon, even with his sunglasses on the way.

Leon kicked Wesker just to get a bit more room to breathe. He wasn’t sure when he had stopped being afraid of the man and his reactions. “Of course I don’t. But you’ve known me since I was created, I’ve lived in your place since I was fucking two weeks old. How do you imagine me using this information?”

Whatever he had expected, it wasn’t Wesker letting go of him. Leon gasped for breath as he leaned on his knees, the world still flashing around him as the thunder wasn’t going anywhere. The wall behind his back was cold, the air chilly, the old castle straight from a horror story.

Fitting for someone like Oswell E. Spencer, who was a monster himself.

“Stay close.” Wesker’s tone was cold, so sharp it could have made Leon bleed if he didn’t see right through it. “Stay hidden. I don’t want him to see you.”

Leon almost cracked a joke, something like, “What, you think that he’d try to steal me away?”, but he knew that the time wasn’t right. He nodded, squeezing Samurai Edge, that Wesker had allowed him to finally try, in his hand tighter. “Lead the way.”

There weren’t many guards aside from the already dead ones, which made it even more suspicious. Wesker was quiet, so tense that Leon couldn’t help but wonder if he’d see Wesker actually break for the first time, but he was too nervous to ask what they were doing there in the first place.

He knew that this was important, crucial, to Wesker, but it was all. He knew who Spencer was, some parts of what had happened to Umbrella, but only by looking at Wesker, he knew that there was more. So much more, and Leon wasn’t sure if he wanted to know all of it. Yet, if he didn’t follow Wesker here, he knew he’d never hear the truth.

They didn’t stop before they were standing in front of wooden double doors, apparently leading to the place they had tried to get in the whole time.

Wesker stared at the doors like seeing through them, a frown on his brows.

“Are we going in?” Leon asked after a moment of silence, feeling like he had to pull Wesker back from somewhere where he had fallen.

“I’m going in.”

Leon sighed through his nose, knowing that fighting was useless. “I’ll guard the door.”

Wesker’s frown deepened. “That’s…”

It was rare to hear him hesitating, and it made Leon’s grip around his gun tighten until his fingers ached. He knew what was supposed to wait for them, but if Wesker didn’t reveal even a hint of fear when facing enormous BOWs, why would he be afraid of an old man?

“I’ll go first.” Wesker decided, glancing at Leon for the first time since he had let go of his throat. “You’ll follow me when you can be sure that you won’t be noticed. Clear?”

“Crystal.”

Leon was surprised that Wesker didn’t attempt to stop him. The always-doubtful side wondered if Wesker planned to kill him if he heard too much, but he knew that no one would be willing to listen to him, and Wesker knew it too.

The door opened without a sound as Wesker slipped in like a ghost, first there with Leon, then gone. Leon pressed his back against the door and peered in from the crack of the door that Wesker had left for him.

Behind the large windows that reached from floor to ceiling, the dark clouds filled the sky. Most of the room was empty, with a few bookcases against the walls, a long table on the other side of the room, and two tall candelabras standing close to the windows. The wheelchair on a platform raised from the floor with a few steps seemed to be the focus of the room. Leon could see only part of it because Wesker was standing in his line of sight, hiding the man who must be Spencer.

“You’re back….” Spencer laughed, his voice cracking with the cough that sounded sick as if he was dying. Still, he sounded like he had the time of his life, like he had known that Wesker was coming to meet him.

It made Leon shiver from disgust because he could see how tense Wesker’s shoulders were, his discomfort. It made Leon think of how Wesker cringed under the touch of Gionne, who didn’t understand the concept of personal space.

It was silent, only the thunder rumbling outside, making the windows rattle with its force.

Leon knew that something was wrong. He felt it in his bones, how the air was so thick that he couldn’t breathe.

“You know it all now, don’t you?” Spencer croaked, his tone so satisfied that it dripped with emotion. Leon imagined it to look black and thick, corroding the floor away. “My true goal.”

“Developing bio-organic weapons for the military was never your goal. They were just means to achieve something else.” Wesker’s voice was empty from any emotion, almost dead, and Leon knew that he was bottling everything inside.

Spencer made a sound that was supposed to be a chuckle if Leon read it right, but it sounded rough and painful. “I had a dream. To reach my Utopia, I needed to end the current form of humanity and create a new superior human race. And me, being a god, above them all.”

It was… sick. All those people who had died in outbreaks, everyone who had turned and lost their life, meant nothing to this man.

“The Wesker Plan,” Spencer continued, sounding like he loved to gloat, like he didn’t consider Wesker the slightest threat. “I allowed the project to be named after the chief researcher at the time. We gathered hundreds of children born of parents of importance, each took the surname Wesker. When we were sure that they had internalized the necessary values, they were placed into select controlled environments in various locations around the world.”

Leon squeezed the Samurai Edge tighter so his hands wouldn’t have shaken. Wesker had said that he was adopted, that he didn’t know his parents. Was he one of the hundreds that were manipulated to work for Spencer? That… that didn’t make any sense. How no one had noticed so many children disappear because, for fuck’s sake, Spencer hadn’t adopted them by legal means, for sure.

Wesker still said nothing, and Leon wanted to run there and shake the man, to tell him that he shouldn’t listen to Spencer.

“We gave you the best education you wanted, available in any field you choose to pursue.” Now Spencer talked directly to Wesker, placing him as one of his subjects. “You were promising, more than anyone else. I was pleased by the choices you made. If the other Wesker children were like you, I would have nothing but quality scions for my new human race.”

Leon wanted to throw up. He couldn’t help but wonder why Wesker allowed him to hear it all, if he had expected it, what this all meant.

As Spencer continued gloating, throwing around the secrets of his plan and why he had founded the Umbrella Corporation in the first place, Leon forced his feet to move. He wanted nothing more than to silence Spencer, to make him hurt for all he had done to entire cities of innocent citizens and to Wesker, but it wasn’t his place to stop Spencer.

He could see Wesker’s fingers spasming, like wanting to squeeze something, and Leon knew that it was Wesker who’d kill Spencer tonight. He wasn’t going to stop it.

He closed the door behind his back, deciding that no one else had to hear any of it, crouching behind the table when Spencer turned his head from where he had looked at Wesker, who didn’t seem to be able to stand still.

“—were administered to ascertain the truly excellent Weskers. I’m sure you have already figured out when you got your dose. There was no need to force you to accept it.”

“Did doctor Birkin know what it was?” Wesker asked, and god, it made it only worse.

The only person Wesker had mentioned as his friend had been part of this mess, serving Spencer?

Spencer tried to laugh, but the noise drowned into a dry burst of coughing. “I didn’t need to know more than that you injected the virus yourself for your scheme. Birkin was just a tool to make sure you’d trust the virus in the injection.”

Leon didn’t want to hear more. He couldn’t help but think again about how it still felt like his friends, most of whom he had never met, had betrayed him. How he would be alone without Wesker, who had always acted like he didn’t need friends. And now Leon— he wanted to be someone to Wesker. He wanted to show that whatever Birkin, who Leon could only remember as a mutated, crying, and howling creature, had done and thought, Leon wasn’t like that.

“...a new breed of humans given birth by the Progenitor virus. The Wesker children were entrusted with limitless potential. Of them, only one survived. You.”

Wesker’s expression didn’t change as he walked past Spencer, circling him like a shark orbiting a sinking boat. But Leon was swirling the information in his head, knowing it wasn’t true. Spencer had missed at least something. And it meant that he could be wrong in more than this one thing.

One more Wesker was alive. Leon had found the picture, asked about it, and finally squeezed out of Wesker that the woman in the photo was named Alex. She was blond too, about the same age, looking cold and distant and somehow so similar. Were they the only ones left from the hundreds of children Spencer had collected like they were trading cards?

Was Leon supposed to stop calling Wesker Wesker because the name felt now like a cruel joke? He wasn’t sure if he liked the thought, it made him uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t explain, but he wasn’t going to rub this all on Wesker’s— on Albert’s face every time Leon called his name.

“Are you saying I was manufactured?” Albert glanced back at Spencer from the front of the windows where he was facing the storm.

“I was to become a god….” Spencer tried to rise from his chair, falling back when he was too weak to do that. Leon would have felt gleeful when seeing it if he didn’t feel sick by Spencer’s announcement. “...creating a new world with an advanced race of human beings. However, all was lost with Raccoon City.”

Leon saw how Albert’s hand squeezed into a fist, his shoulders lowering and chin raised high, all the suppressed emotions taking some form. Spencer should shut up and regret what he had done and how he saw the Raccoon City incident.

Leon knew that he should be worried about himself as well. He knew too much, a million times too much. He could slip his fingers into the vulnerable cracks that Albert was trying to heal and hide like they were just wounds in his body.

“Despite that setback, your creation still holds great significance.” Spencer frowned deeply, forcing his body to stand up from the wheelchair, grimacing slightly as he tried to stand and take the first shaking step. “Now, my candle burns dimly. Ironic isn’t it? For someone who has the right to be a god!”

Albert’s steps were soundless when he walked towards Spencer, whose breathing was heavy, every step scratching against the floor. Leon held his breath, knowing exactly where this was going, not regretting how he wasn’t going to raise a hand to stop it. He finally had someone to blame, and for once, there was a life he didn’t want to be saved.

Spencer turned to face Albert, frail and short next to the larger man. Spencer’s robe looked out of place compared to Albert’s long coat, fitting leather pants, and a high-collared shirt that had made Leon salivate when he saw the outfit for the first time.

There wasn’t time to think of that, especially because Leon knew he should try to do some damage control sooner rather than later.

After talking as loudly as he could, Spencer lowered his volume again. “To face his own mortality….”

“The right to be a god….” Albert said, and Leon could see how he raised that impenetrable wall in front of him, built something to hide the hurt, and let whatever he was thinking consume him.

Leon blinked, only to realize that Albert had driven his hand through Spencer’s chest, the blood dripping from his fingers onto the floor, the same red coloring the back of Spencer’s robe.

It was a cruel way to kill someone, yet something Spencer deserved. Leon hated how the heat pooled inside him when he realized once again how strong Albert was, how those hands could crush him in a blink and leave him in pain and his body fixing itself slowly and just as painfully because broken bones were a torment as they healed.

“That right is now mine,” Albert told Spencer, sounding like he believed it, and Leon—

He wasn’t strong enough to fix this all, but he couldn’t just give up.

The disturbing mix of arousal and agony swelled inside him as Albert withdrew his hand, leaving Spencer gasping for breath uselessly before falling on his knees, on his side, and rolling down. His body jerked once, then stopped moving, and Leon knew that he didn’t have much time to stop Albert’s train of thoughts.

“The right to be a god? You? Arrogant even until the end,” Albert told Spencer, his full attention on a man that was already gone.

Leon took the only opportunity he had, scrambling from behind the table.

“Only one truly capable of being a god deserves that right.”

Oh god, for fuck’s sake, there was no way Albert was buying all that talk about anyone being a god, no matter who or what they were.

Leon grabbed his forearm, forcing Albert to look away from the dead old man who kept bleeding on the floor, begging with his gaze Albert to return back to his right mind.

Albert’s lips were just a tight line, his jaw clenched, all of him so distant. Still, Leon holstered the gun that he had still held in his hand, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hit anything even if a horde of infected barged in.

“Leon,” Albert said, and even with those sunglasses, Leon knew that he was observed, scanned over and over, and he had no idea what Albert was looking for. Just like Leon had no idea what he was supposed to say.

They— were more similar than he had ever imagined, and he feared to point it out. If Spencer hadn’t lied, they were both created to serve someone else’s ideals, but Leon wanted to believe that they had broken that spell.

“He was wrong,” Leon breathed out, searching for the right words, but not having time to find them as Albert jerked his head back from his hair, pressing against him and stealing his breath away with a kiss.

Leon would have sputtered if he could do anything else but sink his nails into the leather of Albert’s coat and let him continue. Hopefully, it was a good sign, not a telltale sign of insanity, that all the new information had blossomed inside Albert.

It wasn’t like Leon knew enough. He knew nothing; not about Spencer, Albert’s past, or about that virus running in Albert’s veins. Still, he didn’t think of escaping, not saving himself, but only comforting Albert in some way the man would accept.

And if it would be this, Albert grasping a handful of Leon’s ass and splitting his lip with a hard bite, all while the founder and a former CEO of the organization Leon had hated with all his will since Raccoon City lay dead on their feet— then so be it. It wasn’t the biggest sin either of them had committed.

“Okay, got it. I—” Leon turned his head to be able to talk, but his words disappeared into nothingness as the pain caused by a bruising bite on his neck spread all over him.

He held his breathing, tried to get over the blood tickling his skin as it streamed down and permeated his shirt. Okay, this—

This wasn’t okay, but this—

This thing had fucked Albert up, and Leon knew that everything he could do now was to force those thoughts and potential plans to disappear. Not to let Albert think of what he was, what he would become, to buy time and hope that there would be a better moment to explain how following Spencer’s plan and trying to change the world would kill them both just like Albert had killed Spencer.

Neither of them was human, they were supposed to be better, but Leon just wanted to have a sliver of peace, to be happy.

“C’mon, you can do worse,” Leon gasped, pushing that long leather coat from Albert’s shoulders. “I won’t break.”

He could get over the pain by the adrenaline, by the race of his heart that made everything slow down, so it felt like the time passed slower. Albert could tear him into pieces, but as long as he collected what was left of Leon and gave him time, he’d come back.

Hopefully. He had never gotten that close to the point of no return. Not yet.

Albert growled into his ear, and the next thing Leon knew was the rattle behind him, the crack of almost breaking glass, and the cold and smooth surface against his back. He glanced over his shoulder, his breath hitching as he saw how long the fall was, where he would end up if Albert pushed any harder, allowed the glass to break, and let go of him.

Leon felt his fingers twitch on his sides, wanting to grasp something, but he knew this was a test. Albert was so close that Leon could have drowned in his warmth, and if he this once let his doubts get better of him, show that he still didn’t trust Albert with his life, he’d be doomed.

Perhaps it would have been better to fight as Albert grasped the front of Leon’s shirt in a tight grip (it was the one thing that could save or kill Leon), his other gloved hand moving to open his fly. But Leon wanted to trust. He needed to know that he had this one thing, even if it would kill him.

He had no one, and he had been created to fight and die for some stupid plan that would lead to nothing good. He wasn’t going to turn away now.

“Why aren’t you resisting?” Albert taunted, the smooth fabric of his gloves not stopping Leon from feeling the warmth of his skin.

There were still remnants of Spencer’s blood on the gloves, smearing over Leon’s abs and down his pelvis until Albert took hold of his cock, and he was still hard. If there was something wrong in Albert, Leon wasn’t exactly sane either.

“I’m with you in this,” Leon said, licking over his still bleeding lip. “I’m not going anywhere, Albert.”

The sharp exhale Leon earned was more than he could have hoped. He wanted to be more than just a pawn. It meant so much that he was here, that he had heard it all. It was so much more important than all those other jobs, countless shared kisses in places where they weren’t supposed to be distracted. Not even practically living together and sharing meals came close to this.

“You were escaping death with all your might, and now you’d allow me to kill you this way?”

Leon was supposed to reply, but he hadn’t noticed Albert working on his own belt, and now the hot pull of Albert’s flesh against him was too sudden, too sweet. Even though the glass behind him cracked again, Leon couldn’t stop his head from falling back, an embarrassing sound escaping from his lips.

“You should decide if you want to live or die, clone.”

It hurt, a knife twisting in Leon’s chest, but even when high on adrenaline and arousal, he knew what Albert was doing. He could see right through it, though he had no idea if it was because Albert was too wrecked to be his manipulative self or if Leon knew him well enough.

“You won’t kill me.” Leon stole a kiss from Albert’s lips, even though he knew that every movement against the window could break the glass and plunge him into his death. “You’ll use me, lie to me, try to push me away, but you won’t kill me.”

It should have felt like a gamble, but it didn’t. It was true, and Leon was playing his part so well that he hadn’t been acting for a long time.

Albert’s lips curled into a cruel smile, his hand reaching to wrap around them both, stroking antagonizing slowly. It made Leon want to arch into the touch, his whole body shaking as he tried not to move.

“Have you thought about what’ll happen if you are wrong?”

Leon swallowed down panic as Albert’s squeeze around them tightened. Even after all this time, this was the hardest part of all, to have those hands that could rip through a ribcage jerking him off.

“I’m not wrong.” He was surprised at how certain he sounded. “I don’t care if you let the glass break. You won’t let go of me.”

He didn’t want to feel the wind, the rain, to see the long fall without anything in between, but he knew that Albert wouldn’t let go of him this easily. Not without reason. Right now, Leon was more useful alive.

It had been what felt like years and years since he had had to analyze Albert’s actions this way, to try to figure out if he could trust the man now or later. It was familiar, like visiting his parents’ grave, a reminder of something unpleasant, but that was still part of him.

“You’re either with me or against me,” Albert purred, his hand not letting Leon breathe as it moved faster, a stroke of the thumb over the leaking heads almost too rough to be pleasant.

Leon didn’t want to play this game. He wanted to come, be over with this, and return what they had just yesterday. He didn’t want to fight for Albert’s trust and prove himself again and again. He wanted nothing to do with this god-complex that he feared that Albert had inherited from the man who had made Albert who he was without asking permission.

It wasn’t a pity that Leon was feeling, but it would have been so fucking close to it if he wasn’t scared for his poor life and wished that he could grab the edge of the window frame to save himself if the worst happened.

But if he couldn’t save himself, he could at least make it all worse.

Trying not to let his center of gravity change, the rattling of the glass as a gust of wind blew outside making his heart jump, he slipped his hand between them to join next to Albert’s and searched for his gaze through the sunglasses.

“You know where I stand, Albert.” As his fingers managed to coax a grunt from the man, Leon dared to smile. “And I’m not talking about me standing against the ready-to-break window.”

It was a question and answer. It was all Leon was going to give because he wasn’t someone Albert could order around just because he had decided to… what, change the world? Start a new evolution?

It was so absurd that Leon decided not to think of it right now, not when Albert was heavy and so hot in his hand, and for once, Leon could focus on something else than the pleasure pooling in his head — the fear pricking his skin had even one good side.

“You could never understand—”

“Understand what?” Leon interrupted, playing with the fire in his hand, with his own mortality. He didn’t know if the fall could kill him or if he would be left to suffer for days or weeks, but this was all he had.

Fucking Albert Wesker was all he had in his life, and if he was going to lose him now, Leon wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“What it feels to be created just so someone else can use you? To be deceived for what feels like your whole life? To search for the truth and then not know what to do with it?” Leon laughed, the bitter sound escaping his throat scaring even him. “Oh, I understand.”

“I know what to do with what I learned.” If it was meant to sound threatening, it didn’t. It was always fascinating to see Albert reacting under his hands, to inhale sharply as Leon leaned against every instinct of survival to scratch his teeth against the side of his neck, then biting down. The motion of a gloved hand halted, and Leon wanted to cheer because he hadn’t lost everything he had.

“Yeah?” Leon asked, focusing on Albert, how hard he was in Leon’s hand, how warm his skin was under his tongue. “Have you thought it through at least ten times like you always do?”

He knew that Albert hadn’t. This was an impulse, an answer to the fact that his whole life had been programmed to bring him here, but Leon had no idea how much of this Spencer had planned. Someone with an ego of that size surely hadn’t prepared to be killed right after laying his plan out in the open.

Albert growled, an annoyed sound so close to Leon’s ear that it made him shiver, the glass cracking behind his upper back. “You’re trying to be too smart for your own good.”

“I know.” Leon twisted his wrist, feeling Albert tensing in his fist and under his lips. “That’s why you like me.”

It was the only moment when Leon feared that there wouldn’t be anyone catching him if he fell now. He bit down to have something to take support from as he stroked Albert through his orgasm, smeared them both, and tried to ignore how painfully hard his own cock still was.

Albert’s breathing was still heavy as he took a step back, his hand not letting go of the front of Leon’s shirt but not touching him otherwise. Leon tried to ignore how he must have looked, flushed and panting himself, hand dripping cum and his pants open and revealing his own arousal.

“Albert.” Leon wished that he didn’t sound like he was begging. He wasn’t, he was just asking.

Albert clicked his tongue, finally taking his sunglasses off and allowing Leon to see more of him. “Let’s see how long you can keep up your confident demeanor.”

It was absurd how Albert could still surprise him with his actions, again and again, though Leon should have already been able to guess some of those.

Leon tried to swallow down a whine, a fucking whine, as Albert kneeled in front of him, grabbed the base of Leon’s cock, and raised him a challenging eyebrow. Then, with one fluid motion, he took Leon into his mouth and sucked.

It was— fucking unfair.

Leon couldn’t move his hips, not lean back, not do anything when Albert gave him one of his death glares as Leon’s fingers twitched with a temptation to mess up Albert’s hair. He could do nothing but pant, shudder when every sensation was so much, when Albert’s mouth was too hot, and Leon was already so close and ready to shatter like the glass behind him.

Albert smirked up at him, knowing exactly what he was doing. Leon felt like he needed something to hold on to, but he didn’t want to, didn’t dare to. Part of him wanted to see his world breaking, know if Albert would really save him or let him fall, figure out if it had all been just a convenient arrangement and nothing else.

It was supposed to be nothing else.

Leon cried out when he came, mind somewhere far away as Albert didn’t pull back but pressed closer, swallowing it all as if it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe it wasn’t, but Leon was gasping, his knees ready to buckle, something in his mind screaming at him to prepare for something, but he had no idea what it was.

Just a sound, a feeling, a sensation that wasn’t part of the scene, but he couldn’t stop thinking of it as the glass cracked under the weight of his shoulder, the first pieces dropping off. The freezing air gushed inside, the spider web of cracks spreading from where he had broken the window.

“You didn’t have to break it as a test.” Albert sounded unimpressed, his hands suddenly on Leon’s hips, his warm body close and against him.

Leon smiled and leaned to lick a drop of his cum from Albert’s lips as the hands pushed him back into his underwear and closed his pants. “Had to give it a try.”

The crack of the thunder was loud, it made Leon jerk and search for more of Albert’s warmth as the rain reached him from the broken window.

“Sorry,” Leon muttered, embarrassed about his reaction, and then he realized how tense Albert was against him. How something was wrong.

Suddenly, he was cold, standing alone and feeling so bare because the two people staring at them surely could read the situation from the other side of the room. He wanted to reach for Albert, who had returned the sunglasses on his face, to push him aside so there’d be something between the pointed guns and the man, but Leon knew that it wasn’t his place.

He didn’t belong there, not in this scene, not seeing Albert facing Chris and Jill again. Jesus Christ, Leon wanted none of them to die if he could choose.

There was no time to explain or try to stop it. Leon dove behind the wheelchair that was the closest object as gunshots rang in his ears. He grabbed his own gun, but it felt like a bad joke because he knew he couldn’t take a shot. They weren’t his friends, he had never even talked with them, but it still felt like he did. He remembered them, and he understood what they wanted, what they were trying to do, but it was stupid, and they should know that Albert wasn’t sparing them if they attacked first. Otherwise, they could have won some time because if Albert was still the same person Leon knew, he couldn’t just shut up and not play with his prey.

As much as Leon worried about everyone, trying to avoid bullets that weren’t aimed at him most of the time, there really didn’t seem to be a need to worry about anyone else but Chris and Jill. Even though he had come just before and then sucked Leon off, Albert didn’t show any signs of exhaustion, dodging the bullets efficiently, delivering his punches where and when he wanted.

If Leon didn’t know better, he’d say that Chris was too confident after landing those few bullets on Albert when Leon was saved from them. As long as Chris had no time to think about what it meant (as long as Leon didn’t stop to think again about how Albert had saved his life because he hadn’t been ready to regenerate from being shot with anti-BOW rounds), Leon believed that he was safe.

He just had to figure out how to get them all out alive because he wasn’t getting any help.

Half of the time, Leon wasn’t sure where Albert was and if he was hurt, but it didn’t stop him from crawling behind the bookcase that had fallen down just before. He knew that he could get a few clean shots in to help Albert, but there really wasn’t a need to help him.

Not that Leon was going to shoot him either, even when Albert straightened his back after an exceptionally well-aimed shot and glared daggers with his glowing eyes. “Are you trying to make me angry?”

Leon snorted, wondering if Albert had always used those kinds of lines or if part of Leon had rubbed off on him after all this time.

Apparently, making noise was a bad idea because both Chris and Jill glanced at him, then at each other, hesitating way too long for it to be safe for them, but deciding to shoot.

“I’m sitting this one out.” Leon tried to raise his voice over the gunshots as the wood splintered around him, and the dust tickled his throat.

He had no idea if it helped, not before the rain of bullets stopped and there were more sounds of struggling, and against his better judgment, Leon peeked over the edge full of holes.

Albert and Chris were in the middle of hand-to-hand combat, Chris had lost his gun that had flown far enough so it wouldn’t be a threat to Leon anytime soon. From there, his gaze moved to Jill, her determined eyes visible through the shadow that her cap cast on her face.

Their gazes locked, and Leon knew he was supposed to be dead. He wasn’t the real one; the people that part of him still saw as his friends and fellow survivors considered him as a threat, even when he didn’t have a half mind shooting them back.

Jill aimed, not hesitating this time, and Leon knew that he was seen as a weapon, as something that wasn’t supposed to be alive. He knew that not everyone who was infected died, that there were people like Sherry who could be saved, but he didn’t expect Jill to think that way.

For them, Leon was just a distracting copy of someone they knew.

He should have tried to evade the bullet, but this—

This could be the last time he’d ever see them, whether he’d die or not.

The bullet hit him just over his collarbone, the impact jerking him back. The pain was familiar, a splash of stinging coldness. Even though Leon knew that he’d regenerate soon enough, the panicked survival instinct inside him was something he didn’t know how to shut down.

He returned his gaze to Jill, flashing an almost apologizing smile because it was unfair not to bleed to death from this. He saw Chris falling on his side painfully behind her, but Jill raised her gun again, not glancing back.

Leon forced his eyes to stay open, his body screaming at him to move. But after being so close to being killed by Albert just before, and now in the hands of the people he knew better than they knew, he stayed where he was.

This wasn’t his fight.

Jill had no time to shoot before she had Albert’s hand around her throat, shoving her against one of the pillars standing on the edge of the room, a pained groan escaping her lips. Leon knew how much it hurt, how easily Albert could snap her neck just by squeezing tighter, the sensation of the sleeve of Albert’s leather under her nails something he could almost feel himself. The only difference was that he didn’t need to fear for his life anymore, unlike Jill.

With all of that combat gear on, Chris’s tackle was enough to make Albert let go of Jill, who fell back to the ground, coughing and searching for her gun again.

And Leon— wasn’t supposed to change the course of the fight. But as he watched the punches landing on Chris, ones he couldn’t dodge but took with gritted teeth, Leon couldn’t just sit there as a target and let himself, Chris, and Jill be killed in the worst case. As worried as he was about Albert’s mental state, he knew who’d survive as a winner from this fight if nothing changed.

He was on his feet before realizing it, leaping to Jill to kick the gun away from her reach just before her fingers found it again. “I have a plan.”

It wasn’t exactly true, but Leon was coming up with one. Something Leon S. Kennedy tier, something stupid and dangerous and potentially lethal that would save them all if it succeeded, no matter how small the chances were.

Jill glared at him with disgust and confusion in her eyes, squaring her shoulders as if she expected a new hit.

“Just don’t stab me, please,” Leon continued, grimacing as one of Albert’s half-hearted punches made Chris’ head jerk on the side, Leon almost hearing the tendons resisting the motion.

Jill was already on her feet, scrambling forward and almost tripping, not in a condition to be fighting against Albert.

Even if Leon admired them, he knew that it was useless. Maybe someday they’d have a better chance, but now they were losing and getting themselves killed.

“Jill!” He tried, but of course she wouldn’t listen to him.

Albert barely glanced at her, wiping away the knife Leon had known Jill to pull out next, and the open-palmed hit right on her abdomen sent her flying. Leon hated the sound of broken bones as her body hit the bookcase, the glass between Jill and the books shattering.

And Leon— knew what he had to do, though he didn’t want to. God, he didn’t want to.

As always, he had no time to think of his plan. The only thing he knew was that Albert would survive, he had survived worse, and it was what mattered, though Leon had no idea how to explain this to him later.

If Leon was alive to explain anything at all.

Perhaps Chris and Jill wouldn’t hate him anymore if he helped them. Leon didn’t expect them to accept him, they had the real Leon, and even they had had their disagreements. But maybe they wouldn’t remember him as one more sick experiment gone wrong.

Leon was already late as Albert dragged Chris along the surface of the table, leaving deep dents on the surface of it, and fuck if he was too late—

Chris slid along the floor, too close to the windows, the long fall so close to him.

“I’m sorry about this mess,” Leon said, unsure if Jill heard of it as she tried to rise on her feet, her eyes wide from fear as Albert got closer and closer to Chris. “You know he’ll be back.”

Jill said nothing, and Leon didn’t stop to explain more. He sprinted, already anticipating the sensation of cold glass on his skin, the heat of Albert permeating his senses, maybe the one last time.

The lightning outside was like a sign, one last chance to do this. Leon grabbed Albert’s hand, the one with his fingers bending from anticipation to finally maul his nemesis, but Leon wasn’t having any of it.

When Albert shook him away like an annoying puppy biting the leg of his pants, Leon knew that there was only one way to go.

Down.

Albert raised Chris so easily in the air that Leon would have stopped to admire it if it wasn’t about life and death. He heard Jill’s cry, how Albert uttered something about finishing this game, and Leon could only hope that he was strong enough as he used all of his strength, made them both lose their balance, and did his best to ensure that Chris wouldn’t share their fate.

The breaking glass broke his skin, Albert’s attention finally at him for a split second before the wind and rain hit them, the fall taking Leon’s breath away.

He held on with all of his might, not wanting to let go as the wind made tears rise in his eyes. He wouldn’t let go, thinking that he deserved this as long as it lasted.

“It was fun.”

The wind ate his words away.