A/N: Hello you lovely people! So, my first resident evil fic. I must say, I'm a little scared.

Righty, so I've started playing RE 6 and I've already began shipping LeonxHelena like crazy. I know I'm in the minority, but I just can't stand any more LeonxAda crap being shoved down my throat, I just don't see it.

Anyway, this is my take on what I hoped the Leon and Helena dynamic would be like after seeing the trailers; so please excuse the fact that my Helena might be a bit ooc. I was hoping that there would be more of an angst, love/hate dynamic between the two and that her character might have a bit more gravitas about her.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading this story, I hope you enjoy it.

Rated for sex and violence, cause I'm like that.

Xxxxxxx

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Capcom

Recoil

Reckless.

The eyes of a rookie.

Sure, she had become accustom to having a firearm resting in her palms; her index finger slinked around the trigger. It became almost like second nature. Enough pressure retained in her appendage to stop it from falling slack; yet not enough to unload the barrel. Even though Helena Harper knew how to use a gun; she was still very much a rookie.

And that fact had left Leon S. Kennedy compromised. His safety in jeopardy, his reputation at her mercy and his life in her incapable hands.

Her position as his unlikely partner had been cemented by the brutal demise of Adam Benford. The two of them forced together by treachery and fatality. Again, another casualty which had stained Helena's ledger a deeper shade of red. Selfish. She had pitted herself against the government; became an enemy of the state; all to barter with a man who couldn't be brought. She should have realized that the very moment Deborah fell into Simmons' custody; her unfortunate fate had been sealed. Naive.

There was something so unshakably dangerous about her. Something that he couldn't quiet get his head around. She was impulsive, impulsiveness made her irrational, irrationality made her violent and violence made her reckless. But that wasn't all; the answers lay in the recoil.

Leon had a long standing theory that all there was to tell about a person could be found in their reaction to their first fired shot. He remembered it well; the very moment that Helena had unloaded a 9mm into young Liz's face. She took the recoil well, allowing the shock-wave to pulse down her arm into her shoulder, ricocheting down to her knees, eventually grounding at her feet. Her body remained still afterward, hunched over, wounded even, enveloping the mangled corpse on the elevator floor whilst her face played an expression of mock horror. An expression that was practiced and perfected; but one that was far from genuine. An expression that beautifully summed up all that she was supposed to feel, but didn't. A well crafted mask intended to bury the feelings of satisfaction and relief.

Killing seemed to provide her with some twisted kind of gratification. Maybe it acted as consolidation for the violence which had plagued young Deborah's life. Or perhaps it ignited something deep in Helena's tainted past of irrationality and rage. Either way, he couldn't shake the dread that in some shape or form, she'd be the death of him.

Death of him. Why had this notion become so appealing all of a sudden? Situation and duty had placed Leon S. Kennedy in death's path so many times that it had almost become routine. One might say to the extent that he had begun to take his health and wellbeing for granted. Even though the number of attempts on his life continued to rise throughout the years; he always seemed to be on the cusp of control; having it just within his reach, easy pickings. But with a tour de force that was Agent Harper, he seemed to be rapidly losing grip on the situation. And it excited him.

In fact it drove him; forced him to regain a passion for life, a passion for justice. She gave him something to fear, the fact that failure could be waiting just around the corner. For every false move she made, he was forced to strive in order to rectify some sort of order. She challenged him, questioned him; for Leon was a man of logic and she a follower of instinct and emotion.

But now he felt like he was constantly fringing on control; never really snatching it back from her. She kept him at bay; causing him to feel like every morsel of information she threw down for him; he had to earn in some way. She was a liar too. Untruths rolled from her tongue with impeccable nonchalance and ease, like second nature.

"Not before we check out Tall Oaks cathedral. Agent Kennedy's got a lead that might tell us who's responsible for this"

At times he almost let himself forget that she was a fugitive. That she had dragged him down along with her. She had tarnished his very name; severing his alliances and causing him to become dependent on her. Dependency that caused tension between them. A tension that had become unreadable. An animosity that could easily seep into the territory of lust in this twisted power-play they had going on. He was never sure whether she wanted to kill him or kiss him. The fact that he had managed to vacate Tall Oaks without her burying a knife hilt deep between his shoulder blades had been nothing short of a miracle.

And when it came down to it; it was no surprise that he fucked her. Nor was it a surprise for the second and third time. He'd later address their sexual liaisons in his mission debriefing; claiming that they had been initiated by Harper. Claiming that the fornication had been spurred by a heavy kick of adrenaline and lust for life. He'd be chewed out for unprofessional behavior and more than likely be suspended. But they'd never fire him, he was an asset to the force; and assets were hard to come by.

The first of their clinches had been the result of Leon's forceful manhandling. Shortly following their arrival in China; Helena had been defiant of his orders, allowing her emotions to consume her, making yet another irrational misjudgment. She thrust herself headfirst into immediate danger; forcing her partner to once again battle for control. His rough grip latched onto the belt of her pants before he yanked her back towards him. She toppled backwards into his chest, allowing his arms to encircle her waist and wrench her up from the floor. In retaliation, Helena violently jolted her elbow back into Leon's face; instantly unleashing a flow of crimson from the ruptured blood vessels in his nose. The kick back almost knocked him from his feet, however, he retained his forceful hold on his partner. A large, disheveled storage unit caught Leon's eye as he dragged Helena back towards their potential safe haven.

The glorified iron crate provided them with shelter and enough decaying furniture to barricade the gaping entrance and shut out the dimming daylight. In a hast of heavy breath and diminishing rage; Helena was able to see the damage caused to Leon's face. An insincere apology pushed passed her lips on impulse as she quickly brought a hand up to his bloodied nose. A brief moment of eye contact sent a million unanswerable questions through Leon's mind as he was once again clueless as to the nature of their relationship. She was his burden, his dead-weight. But then again, she was also something of an obsession, a double edged sword. He just couldn't figure her out, or the magnetism between them.

She moved first, unflinching as she forced her lips to his whilst gratuitously pushing her ample breasts into his chest. She shoved him backward; his head colliding with the rusted metal walls of their abode. The ping of contact did nothing but fuel her enthusiasm and draw out his curiosity. Before long, clothes were shed and bodies were pressed against one another in a fervent unison.

Helena pushed her partner back, straddling his hips. Her eager hands clawed at the skin of his chest and shoulders; leaving sore pink trails across his flesh as she dragged her nails along it. He drew a sharp intake of breath and winced in response against her mouth. Her own lips curled into a satisfied smirk before taking his bottom lip between her teeth. Leon's own rough, callous fingers gripped at the flesh of her hips, battling for control once again as he stifled her rough, relentless thrusts.

Within moments she released his swollen lip and threw her head back; raising her hands to rake them through his dirty blond tresses. Her fingers roughly trailed across his scalp as she called out, reaching her own peak. Her cries of satisfaction would have surely attracted unwanted attention, but then again, maybe that was her intention.

Five accurate shots obliterated five targets in almost immaculate succession. The two of them had quickly become overrun by degenerates on the chaotic streets during their unyielding pursuit of Simmons. The infected swarmed from all directions, intent on mass bloodshed and carnage. A narrow ally provided an inkling of relief as the unlikely pair were forced to retreat and regroup. Hunnigan's image was already projected onto the phone's screen as she frantically mapped out a new route, providing Leon with streets and roads he was unfamiliar with. Helena briefly fiddled with the body of her gun, hoping to use the brief moment of serenity to clear the jam in her barrel.

It only took a moment to realize that, although they were sheltered, they were still sitting ducks. But it was all too late. Death was upon her within seconds.

Before Leon could will his limbs to move and set his aim; decayed canines sunk into the flesh of Helena's neck; instantly causing her pale skin to rupture. Blood, tissue and an undetermined amount of muscle matter relentlessly oozed from the wound; quickly coating her torso in sickly shades of red. Her face was twisted; distorted by an expression of agony and disbelief as her hands briefly fumbled before clamping down around her gaping throat. She tensed before she slumped down to the frigid concrete by his feet. Her ears still ringing from the shot Leon had fired to silence her attacker. Still ringing from the shot that came too late.

Helena flailed on the ground. Her breath ragged as she choked and spluttered on frothy blood. Distorted darkness clouded her vision as Leon's fact came into focus. He held her to his chest; his hand firm to her throat, pushing down on the relentless flow of red. Sticky crimson had already begun to congeal in her ashy brown locks and on the cracked pavement beneath them. Her body continued to rapidly tense and relax as violent convulsions took over her limbs.

Leon didn't attempt to retain any essence of composure in his strained voice as he comforted her with every tired-out cliché he could think of. His icy eyes locking with her own. The eyes of a rookie. Her hazel orbs still so full of life; begging him not to let her die. They refused to concede, even with her life still pouring out onto the ground beneath them. With the last of her strength, she willed her bloodied hands to reach up and desperately cling to the cotton of Leon's collar. She briefly toyed with the fabric beneath her fingertips before tracing up to the stubble that sat on the line of his jaw. Trembling fingers lined his lips, savoring the touch.

"Stay with me, Harper!"

He was sure that he saw the ghost of a smile play on her features just before her arms slumped back down to her sides and the light in her eyes went out for good. Just like that, she was gone. He shook her limp body, unwilling to accept such an abrupt end. But the slackness in her jaw and her vacant upward stare confirmed his fears.

Distant gunfire and distressed cries cut through the night air; reminding Leon that life continued to strive in the wake of Helena's death. There was still work to do, people to save. Grief was eagerly waiting at the sidelines, threatening to consume him completely. But a stubborn sense of duty and the sound of Hunnigan's frantic voice sliced through; desperately appealing to his diminished psyche.

All logical reasoning told him that he should have been relieved; Helena was a liability, a burden of sorts. She was an occupational hazard, an unnecessary complication. His safety was finally back in his own hands along with his freedom.

But instead, a bleak shroud of disappointment and regret hung heavily over his shoulders. Because for a brief moment, he was sure that she was it. He was certain that he had finally met his match in Helena Harper.

But now she was gone, taken out by her own negligence.

Reckless.

Thank you for reading, reviews are very welcome

xxxxxxxxxxx