Authors Note: Here we go again - This is a prequel to 'Whatever I am, You made me'. Starting directly after Resident Evil 6. You know the drill - bad language, sex, violence.. and some jokes. Buckle up, we're gonna see some sh*t!

May your dreams bring you peace in the darkness
May you always rise over the rain
May the light from above always lead you to love
May you stay in the arms of the angels
May you always be brave in the shadows
till the sun shines upon you again
Hear this prayer in my heart and we never will part
May you stay in the arms of the angels.

- Maggie Siff, 'Lullaby for a Soldier'

A crackle of thunder rumbled across the midnight sky, followed a moment later by a brilliant, illuminating flash as lightning streaked in sharp taloned claws across the ominous clouds. Rain battered rooftops and streets below, pattering against glass windows, a monotonous song. Leon's boot crunches over broken glass as he steps close to the edge, a floor to ceiling window pane shattered ahead of him, looking out over a gloomy sleeping city. He lowers his gun to his side, peering over the precipice. A twelve floor drop to the saturated streets below, where a body lay broken, blood carried by the river of rain and washed down to the depths of the city storm drains.

"Jesus," Sherry Birkin breathes behind him, a little to his right. He lifts his eyes from the body as paramedics surround it and begin the process of loading the former scientist in to a bag. His eyes narrow, looking out in to the stormy night and feeling the wind whip his hair back from his face, droplets of rain sting his skin.

"Reinforced glass, designed to withstand the force a goddamn RPG." Chris Redfield arrives at his side and peers down at the bloody mess in the street. "I think it's safe to say, he didn't jump."

The tiniest smirk turns up the corners of Leon's mouth. In this business, you took the humor where you could get it.

"He just had it installed," Leon says thoughtfully, "paperwork in his desk tells us he developed a big hard on in the last three months for his personal safety. New alarms fitted, he was even working on a panic room." He gestures slightly toward a door to the left of them with a keypad on the side. As far as they could tell, it was untouched.

"You go to all the trouble of installing safety glass and a panic room, then you don't even open it up when the Devil comes knocking." Chris follows Leon's gaze.

Leon looks back to the broken window in front of them, scanning every sharp, broken edge in the thick glass.

"Maybe the Devil didn't announce himself," Leon muses, turning his head to look over at Sherry as she sifted through security camera footage at the desk of the victim. "Anything?"

"Nothing. There's video up until he arrives home, he takes a shower, sits down with a drink and then.. nothing."

"Erased footage?" He asks.

"No. I mean.. there's nothing." Sherry looks over to him, "it's like the cameras just started recording a void. It's still rolling, but the screens are all black. Happens at the exact same time on all four of them." She sits back in her chair and folds her arms. "How is that even possible?"

"Kid if I know one thing about the world these days, it's that anything's possible." Chris sighs.

"What are you people doing here? This is a crime scene." They're interrupted by a surly Police chief with his hands on his hips.

Leon digs in to the inner pocket of his leather jacket and produces his ID, bringing it over to the evidently 'not paid enough for this shit' chief. "Leon Kennedy. My colleague Sherry Birkin of the Division of Security Operations and this is Chris Redfield with the BSAA." He gestures to his friends and co-workers. The Chief looks bored.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

"The victim is Dr Stephen Jackson, he works for a scientific sector of the Government. Researching Bio Organic Weapons. He's pretty high up the food chain." Leon folds his ID back up and returns it to his pocket.

"Somehow he figured out a way to throw himself through reinforced glass, unseen by his four security cameras, after spending a small fortune on turning this place in to a homely version of Alcatraz." Redfield chimes in. "In my world, doing the impossible means you're special."

"So.. what? He's a zombie? Some kind of mutant? This an X-men deal?" The Police Chief snorts, he'd obviously seen enough in tenure on the force and was beyond jaded at this point. Leon kind of knew the feeling.

"No." Leon returns an equally unimpressed stare, "it means someone really wanted a very important person very dead. And they succeeded."

"I see." The Chief sighs. "So what do I put in our report? We've got a body in three pieces out there."

"You put nothing in your report. Sherry..." Leon glances to his younger protegee and she nods, getting to her feet and presenting the Chief with her brightest smile. "If you come with me, we can get some relevant documents signed. This investigation will be under our control."

The Chief looks around all three of them, muttering as he's turned away. "Hookers, junkies, street thugs.. undead goddamn monsters.."

Leon smirks again as the voice fades away down the hall, then returns his attention to the crime scene before him. Something else occurring to him as he looks it over. "The pattern of the shattered glass." He gestures, bringing Redfields attention back to it also. "That's not just wind blowing in some shards."

Chris puts his hands on his hips and studies it.

"That was broken from the outside." Leon finishes. The pair of them looking out of the window and across the street. The nearest building was three lanes and two sidewalks away, it was not jumpable. And there were no fire escapes on this side of the building.

"So someone repelled off the roof and had leverage enough to break RPG proof glass hanging off of a rope?" Chris makes a face.

"Like Sherry said.. Impossible." Leon says quietly.

"I prefer it when I just have to shoot shit in the head." Chris shakes his head.

"All things considered, I think they were just being extra cautious calling you in." Leon looks at him.

"They're trying to keep me busy," Chris shrugs, "think they're expecting me to slip in to another bout of amnesia any second."

Leon sighs, "I heard about Piers. I'm sorry."

Chris nods. "He was a good kid."

"China took a lot from everybody." Leon turns away, beginning to leaf through more items in the expensive looking apartment.

"Yeah. How are you doing?" Chris does the same, their backs to one another as they talked.

"I'm.." he hesitates, what could he possibly tell the other man about what happened over there that wouldn't cause either another fight, or another meltdown? "I'm alright."

"I'm sorry. About Ada."

Leon closes his eyes, drawing in a measured breath. The two of them hadn't seen each other since Lanshiang five months ago, since they'd drawn weapons on each other and come to blows over Ada. Chris wanted her dead, Leon would protect her with his life. Chris had promised him in the end he wouldn't hurt her, that he'd take her in alive. But still, Leon had received a message from the man that had broken a part of his heart he hadn't even fully acknowledged until then. For a handful of hours he'd thought Ada to be dead, and despite hell rising all around him, she was all he'd been able to think about.

All the might have beens and what ifs?

And then there she was, hovering over him in a helicopter. Saving his life – again. He'd lept from the side of a burning skyscraper that night to save hers in return. She was alive, the woman Chris blamed for the death of his men in Edonia – alive. Leon was relieved, but Chris? Chris had no idea. He was three months sober and trying to get his life together. Leon wasn't about to bring that all crashing down around him.

"I shouldn't have brought her up," Chris apologizes again as Leon quiets. Lost in thought.

"It is what it is," Leon murmurs. Picking up a stack of papers and leafing through them, then dropping them down in disinterest. "She made her own decisions."

Chris clicks his tongue in his mouth and slowly nods, reaching the bathroom door and peering in to the dark room. He fumbles for a light switch and as he does, he looks back to Leon. "Tell me to fuck off if you want but.. what was with you and her?"

Leon lets out the slightest laugh, "just a whole lot of history, that's all."

"You have strange taste in women my brother." Chris chuckles, finally finding the light switch.

"Says the man that's been trying to ask Jill Valentine out for the past fifteen years, is it?" Leon picks up a pan that hadn't been cleaned and makes a face, dropping it down in to the sink.

"Well – fuck me." Chris says out loud. Leon frowns.

"No offense but you're not my type."

"No, you idiot. I mean fuck – me."

Leon emerges from the kitchen and moves across to the bathroom, joining Chris. He stops in his tracks, his eyes trailing up along the wall.

"What the hell is that?" Leon murmurs, moving to stand centrally before a circular symbol painted in blood. A circle within a circle, on the inside what almost looked like Runes, but nothing like the ones Leon remembered from books.

"This is some witchcraft shit." Chris grumbles.

Leon pulls out his phone and takes a photo, then lowers it again and stares. "We need to get the lab boys in here, see if that's Jacksons blood."

"I'll get the betting pool started." Chris grimaces and ducks out of the room, getting on his radio. Leon remains staring at the symbol. Something about it sent a chill creeping up his spine, and he saw his share of creepy shit. Usually it was creepy shit lumbering toward him wanting to suck out his insides though. Something about this left him cold.

"So much for my vacation.." he mutters, finally turning away.

He smothers her panting breaths with his own, an almost suffocating kiss as he works his body against hers. A handful of her hair between his fingers, hers claw down his back leaving a trail of red welts that added fuel to his fire. His hips snap into hers, that satisfying sound of skin meeting skin filling the room.

The need for air becomes desperate, and instead he smears his lips down along her neck, biting a little harder than intended and making her moan, he leaves his mark on her as she had on him.

Sweat slicked bodies work together, driving one another on toward the blissful oblivion of release.

He had no fucking idea what her name was.

His hand reaches down, grasping her ass for more leverage. A powerful taking of this woman he met maybe three hours ago at the bar below his apartment. She made a lot of noise, and while that thrilled him his neighbors would likely be sticking another note to his door by morning. A wicked grin at that thought flashes across his features and takes her lips again, enjoying the way she moaned in to kisses. Angling his hips just right, he drives her off that edge of tolerance and she jerks and trembles beneath him, ripping herself away from that kiss to cry out and digging her manicured fingernails into his lower back. He doesn't let up, fucking her through her pleasure and straight in to his.

He crashes in to heaven like a drunkard at the pearly gates. A growl and curse of his own as he buries himself in this gorgeous stranger and for a moment, all the horrors of the world bleed away. Nothing but a perfect, all natural high that gives away to a numb, carefree nothing.

She was talking. He had no idea what she was saying, his ears were ringing and honestly he didn't really care. He shuts her up with one last, lazy kiss and then eases from her, flopping on to his back and basking in his own bliss for a while. After a minute, he realizes she's still talking about something and gets to his feet without a word, padding off to the bathroom to take care of the usual aftermath of protected sex with a complete fucking stranger.

He washes up and pulls on some sweats, hoping she's gone when he emerges. Alas, no such luck tonight.

"Can I get you anything?" Leon asks as he scratches the back of his neck and heads to his kitchen.

"What do you have?" She asks, still lying on his bed in her stiletto heels and nothing else.

He opens his fridge. "Beer, beer, beer.. eggs." He looks back at her. "Or whiskey."

She wrinkles her nose. "Water?"

"I can do that." He nods, getting a glass and filling it from a bottle in his fridge. He wouldn't subject the poor woman to the cities tap water. He had no idea what her name was but she didn't deserve that. He cracks open a beer for himself and brings her the glass. Handing it over then moving to his couch. It's pretty clear she was expecting him to settle in for some cuddling, but that was not on his agenda tonight.

He watches her out of the corner of his eye, while flicking through the channels on his TV. She takes a few sips then starts to get herself dressed.

"Well.. thankyou. For the drink and.." she gestures to the bed. He nods, taking a sip from his bottle.

"Yeah, was fun."

"Should do it again some time.." she suggests with a shrug.

"Sure, if I see you around." It's harsh. He knows it's harsh. But honestly, after the beating he'd taken from women lately, he was all out of fucks to give.

"Do you want my number?"

His bottle pauses before his lips, and while the answer was actually 'no', he cuts her some slack and gets to his feet. "Sure." He rips the corner off of a letter on his coffee table and brings it over to her for her to scribble it down on. Then shows her to the door. "You okay to get home?" he asks quietly, leaning against the door frame.

She nods. "I'll just get a cab."

"Alright, be safe out there." He offers her a smile and she leans in, kissing him. He returns it with the most casual shift of his lips, not adjusting his lean an inch. But he does watch her as she disappears down the hallway, her ass looked magnificent in that tight fitting dress. He scratches his bare chest and makes some kind of rumbling noise of appreciation, then the door to his neighbors apartment opens.

The death stare he receives.

"Do you think you could keep it down?"

Leon smirks, giving his uptight neighbor and small nod. "Sure, I'm all done anyway. Goodnight."

"Asshole."

Leon hears it, but he couldn't care less. Kicking the door shut behind him he thuds across the wooden floor of his apartment and back to the couch. "Natalie.." he says thoughtfully, looking at the scrap of paper with her name and number on, "huh. Could have sworn it was Nadia." He shrugs and drops the scrap down on to his coffee table. Reaching for the bottle of Jack Daniels sitting there. He pours himself a full glass and settles in to drown his demons. Sex and alcohol, it was the only way he got any sleep these days. That and reruns of Friends.

"Leon.."

"Uhn.."

"Leon, Earth to Leon?"

"Wha..." He drags a hand over his face as the fog of hangover reminds him he's still alive, blearily opening his eyes he discovers he's on the floor, wedged between his table and his couch.

"It's almost midday."

"It's my day off.." He slurs, looking up to see Claire Redfield with her arms folded, looking down at him.

"And you were supposed to meet me for breakfast."

"How did you get in here?" He pushes himself up to his hands and knees and lifts a hand to his hair, groaning. "I feel like a pig shat in my head."

"I'm not surprised. Was that a whole bottle when you started?" Claire sighs, picking up the empty glass bottle and taking it over to the trash. Leon pulls himself onto the couch and sits with his head in his hands. The sounds of bottles clinking make his ears ring. Claire gathers up four more empty beer bottles and drops them in the trash too.

"I'm beginning to think you need to be on the same program as Chris." Claire tuts.

Leon drops his hands from his head and looks at her. "How DID you get in here?"

"I have a key."

"Since when?"

"Since you got back from China and we thought you were dead."

"What?" he looks mystified.

"Chris was worried you'd go off the deep end about Ada. He didn't want to bug you. So when I paid a visit, I had one cut. I'm very cunning." She smiles brightly at him.

"Well.. I'm still here. Very much in the shallow end." He reaches for his glass to check for any last drops of whiskey and discovers nothing. Hauling himself to his feet instead.

"Oh no.. no you don't." She swipes the glass from his hand and laughs, "you are done. Shower. Now.. you stink of booze and... ew, women."

She maneuvers him toward his bathroom and in his hungover state he has no choice but to go. She starts the shower running and gets him some towels.

"How do you know where all my shit is?" He asks, completely bemused.

"Just get in the shower. I'll make you some breakfast." She orders.

He considers the contents of his fridge and smirks. "Good luck."

She shuts the bathroom door behind her and for a moment he stands there, clutching his towel and looking at the rising steam. Then he bolts to the toilet and loses the contents of his stomach. So maybe he had overdone it a little last night, he'd gotten through a good whole bottle of cheap vodka at the bar, then a whole bottle of Jack and four beers at home. He was confident his liver was trying to escape through his throat.

He retches until there's nothing left, then staggers to his feet. Washing his mouth out at the sink and then drinking directly from the tap. He makes a face. The cities water tasted like lead. It probably was.

Sighing, he drags his hands through his hair and switches off the faucet, staring at himself in the mirror. He looked a goddamn mess. Pale and washed out, eyes bloodshot, his trademark hair clinging to his forehead. "Get your shit together, fuckface." He mutters, splashing cold water on his face and then heading for that shower. It's bliss, and he stands under the hot water with his face tilted toward it, letting it rain down upon him. It's as he stands there that reality begins to seep back in. His body ached. Five months down the line and he still felt like he'd just had the shit kicked out of him by Simmons in China. His shoulder clicked when he moved, his back crunched with every turn. His hip was agony with every step. Scars both inside and out caused nerve pain that shot around his body like little scalpel blades slowly cutting away at his sanity. How many years had he been fighting the undead now? He'd lost track.

He needed a drink.

Getting out of the shower he wraps a towel around his waist and brushes his teeth. He looked a bit more human. Leaving, he's hit by the smell of breakfast. Claire hadn't boiled eggs in beer like he'd assumed she would, instead she'd thought ahead and brought things with her to make it with. He pads over to her and as she turns to say something to him he grabs her face and plants a kiss on her lips.

She hits him with a greasy spatula. "Get off me!"

"I'm just saying thanks." He laughs, letting her go and ducking away from another whack with a cooking utensil.

"I don't know where you've been." She eyes him.

"Her name was Nadia." He nods confidently, getting some coffee. He pauses as he pours it. "Natalie!"

"You're disgusting." Claire wrinkles her nose. "And would you put some clothes on?"

He flashes her a smile and threatens to take off his towel. She threatens him with a hot spatula to the balls.

Five minutes later he returns for more coffee, with a pair of loose fitting sweatpants riding his hips. Claire rolls her eyes and dishes up their food. Setting it out on the table.

"You're an angel." He thanks her, sitting down and digging in.

"Yeah, well, this was supposed to be on you." Claire huffs, sitting opposite him and doing the same.

"Next time." he promises.

"Right, you might have to go a night without getting deadass drunk though." She gestures.

"I can do that."

"Can you?"

He sighs, "don't. Don't give me a hard time for fucking... coping." He was suddenly serious, and eyes her over a slice of toast.

"I'm not. I know it's hard. But there's other ways."

"I've tried other ways." He grumbles. "I've done their therapy, no amount of talking about it takes away what's in my head."

"It's in my head too."

"Well -" he shrugs, "- congratulations. Claire Redfield. You're the strongest Raccoon City Survivor. You win the fluffy doll."

"Don't be an asshole." She scowls at him.

"Well don't turn up at my place like an episode of Judge Judy!" he retorts.

"I'm just worried about you!" Claire defends herself. "If I'm honest, a lot of people are."

"I swear to god if you intervention me I will throw myself out that window." he nods to the kitchen window.

"I'm not going to intervention you. Nobody is."

"You guys nailed Chris with that shit."

"Well Chris is my brother."

"And I'm just the scumbag you meet for breakfast on a Saturday."

Claire picks up her coffee and levels a gaze at him. "Have you talked to anybody about Ada?"

He looks away from her, down to his plate. Stabbing some eggs.

"Leon.."

"Claire.." he echoes her voice.

"You need to get that out. You lost someone you care about."

"You got no idea how I feel about Ada."

"I know the one time we had sex you called me her name." Claire says flatly.

Leon drops his fork, pushing away from the table.

"Leon!"

"Go home, Claire." He waves her off, stalking toward his bedroom.

"You need to talk about China!" She calls after him. He slams his bedroom door so hard a picture on the wall rattles.

Claire sighs, sitting back and drinking her coffee. "Maybe you do need an intervention." She mutters.