Disclaimer: Blah blah, Resident Evil, yadda yadda yadda Capcom.
Takes place directly after RE:4, but skips around a bit after words.
Prologue: Home sweet home
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By the time the chopper touched down just outside DC, Ashley had sunk into a thankfully dreamless exhausted sleep, her blonde head pillowed against Leon's arm. His eyes were glassy from fatigue, but he refused to let them close, the past couple of days leaving him overly alert and more paranoid than usual. He wouldn't be able to rest peacefully until Ashley was in protective custody and he was debriefed and released to head home for some much needed R and R, the image of some unforeseen problem jumping out at them as soon as he let his guard down being all that kept him conscious.
When the dust stirred up from the overhead propellers died down, Leon stepped out of the helicopter and scooped Ashley into his arms, watching the pilot, a seemingly easygoing guy that Leon had known only in passing at the agency, slip off to the hangar out of the corner of his eye.
The clack of heels on pavement drew his attention back to the airstrip, a weary grin flitting halfheartedly across his lips.
Ingrid Hunnigan's hair was pulled back into a low ponytail that swung as she walked, her dark hair reaching her lower back, wire rimmed glasses once again perched on her nose. She stopped in front of Leon, face almost level with his in her heels.
Taking her in for the first time face to face, Leon let a tired smile out over the blond head in his arms, shifting Ashley to a more comfortable position.
"You're taller than I'd imagined."
Hunnigan allowed herself a smile before getting straight to business.
-----
Ashley was taken by secret service straight from the private airport to be returned home, Leon on the other hand, had the unpleasant task of reporting straight to headquarters without so much as a cup off coffee to wake him up. He rode with Hunnigan in the back of one of the many nondescript SUV's that the U.S. government was overly fond of using, tinted windows keeping out the majority of light from the rising sun.
Hunnigan draped one long leg over another as she regarded the agent in front of her. Covered in bruises, splotches of blood, some of which was his, and a general coating of dust and debris, he was, for the most part, unharmed. They hadn't been kidding when they said he was the best.
"Ma'am," Hunnigan nodded, eyes never leaving Leon, to acknowledge one of the two other black suites that were riding with them.
"Yes?"
"We'll be rendezvousing with General Miller at 0800 hours, until then he suggests that you start the report and debriefing of Agent Kennedy."
Hunnigan finally slid her eyes away from Leon, who was staring blankly out at the moving landscape; head cushioned against his palm, and regarded the suit next to her.
"Are we inconveniencing him this early?"
"No, Ma'am. General Miller just wishes to have this mess wrapped up as quickly as possible."
She resisted the urge to scoff. Knowing the General, her phone call earlier that morning about the return of the President's daughter had more than likely cut into one of his planned fishing trips, and rather than reschedule he had decided to foist the work onto her. 'Typical male behavior,' she thought, 'leave the cleaning up for the woman to do.'
Returning her attention to Leon she found him facing her, arms resting on his thighs as he leaned inward, looking as if he wanted to say something but unsure of how to go about it.
"Leon?"
His storm grey eyes flickered up to meet hers briefly before falling back to whatever predetermined spot near the floor he had been focusing on until then.
"I'm leaving."
Hunnigan's brow furrowed in confusion, "What?"
This time when Leon looked up, he held her eyes with his, "The agency. I'll stay on until I can find a suitable replacement, but after that I'm gone."
A pause as shock sank into Hunnigan's expression, then-
"You better have a damn good explanation as to why, Kennedy!" The hard edge of anger sounding odd in her soft voice.
The two other suits didn't move, but a shift behind dark glasses told Leon they were now both focusing on him and his forthcoming explanation.
It wasn't a widely known fact that he was one of a handful of survivors from Raccoon city and the subsequent viral outbreak there, even if the 'zombie' aspect was subject to skepticism, but it was in his file, along with his long list of anti-Umbrella campaigns. So Hunnigan understood what he meant when he simply replied, "Something from my past I thought was finished."
She let it rest, for the moment anyways.
-----
An hour and a half later Leon was allowed to return home, with the added instructions of an explanation for Hunnigan sometime in the next 72 hours, after he'd showered and had a chance to eat something and work on those bags he was developing under his eyes. He was dropped off across the street from his apartment building, the black SUV disappearing into the midmorning light.
Sam, the doorman, greeted him as he crossed the street.
"Mornin' Leon!" He waved cheerfully, "Beautiful day to--Whoa!" Sam's hat all but slid off his head at the whiplash of Sam's first good look at his tenant.
"Rough day at work." Leon supplied as he slipped through the door, aware that the blood and obvious display of firearms he was sporting would no doubt be the topic of gossip for weeks to come, not that he was planning to be here then.
Foregoing the elevator and the group of rubbernecks inside, Leon headed for the stairs. He only lived on the third floor of an eight floor building, but the climb was tiring and didn't seem to do any good for his leg, the clotted wound that Ada had given him--
Leon paused in his climb, to catch his breath as much as to ponder the one person he really didn't feel up to thinking about at the moment. Ada Wong. He had figured that she was alive when rumors of her working for Wesker had been brought in by Chris Redfield from a return trip to Brazil, an outing that was otherwise uneventful. He had never expected to run into her himself, the Asian beauty all but a distant memory that he only thought of when the rare nightmare of Raccoon City kept him awake at night.
Another thought brought a self-deprecating smile to his lips as callused fingers ran across the shallow cut on his face. 'Of course Ada wasn't the only one to come crawling back from the dead for a surprise visit.'
Krauser was most assuredly dead this time, but his momentary slip of the tongue had brought back a hole slew of the dead, 'hopefully not literally,' he thought as he continued his trek up the narrow stairs.
Umbrella seemed to be the monkey on his back that he just couldn't get rid of, no matter how many operations of theirs he killed, and the act had worn thin years ago.
Finally, Leon arrived at the door to his apartment. His key had been returned to him upon his debriefing, no way would he have been able to keep track of the blasted little thing in Europe, and unlocked the door to fall unceremoniously into his spartanesque home.
He had enough energy and sense of mind to lock and deadbolt the door, but forgot his boots and harness as he fell onto his bed, his breath evened out into the rhythm of sleep before the springs had stopped bouncing.
-----
It was dark when Leon finally awoke, the blinking red LED lights of his alarm clock flashing 12:00 uselessly. It had to be late, or at least really early as the only thing on the television was infomercials. Forgoing figuring out the time, or what day it was, Leon headed off to the bathroom, discarding his blood stained and dirty clothing along the way.
The ache in his side and stiff muscles from sleeping on his gun was dulled in the blessedly hot spray of the shower, but stung the open wound on his thigh and wherever else skin had been cut open in his pursuit of the President's daughter. Regardless, he stayed till the water ran clear of blood and grew cold, only getting out when goose bumps threatened to devour him whole. Antiseptic and bandages was followed with a towel slung hastily over his hips as he headed for the small alcove that passed for a kitchen.
Leon ate standing, dripping water onto his hardwood floors as he stood in nothing but a towel in the middle of his kitchen, orange juice drank straight from the carton.
Afterwards he crawled back in bed, wrapping the mussed sheets around him in a cocoon as he slept, the voice of Jack Krauser mocking him in his dreams; Umbrella, umbrella, umbrella.
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Next: A meeting with Ingrid Hunnigan reveals exactly why Leon must leave, as well as some certain numbers.
Prologue Completed 11-14-05