Done for a good friend of DaggerArcadia, who's been feeling down and I wanted to do something to perk her up! This should have been finished days ago, but my brain obviously doesn't like to cooperate with Leon. Also inspired by Lastglances' On the Back Burner, which totally and completely surprised me when she started writing it. Go give that a read, too, because she really deserves it!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not a damn thing. I do this for fun, not profit. All creative rights to the characters and storyline belong to their original creators. No copyright infringement intended.
Leon should have known better than to trust the government who hired him against his will. He should have known that there were different sets of hands pulling strings behind the public image like a puppet.
A few months after the encounter with the Los Illuminados, Leon was brought in for his regularly scheduled health examination and flu shot, though this time it contained more than just a vaccine.
The chemicals in the injection revived the leftover shreds of the Plaga that had once lodged itself in Leon's chest. Not even a half a parasite anymore, the Plaga parts were left to drift within Leon's bloodstream until they became more like a virus than a parasite. It went undetected for some time, under Wesker's careful eye.
Then Leon heard the hissing, and it all went downhill from there.
After reporting his 'hallucinations' and undergoing an MRI scan, Leon found himself held at gunpoint as he tried to talk to the president, his commander, and the head scientist at the lab.
"Sir, your daughter was there, she operated the controls and everything, she saw it die-"
The president didn't want to listen, waving off his excuses. Off to the side, Leon's commander spoke up.
"Nevertheless, Kennedy, you're infected now," he said, frowning grimly. "I know this is rather stressful on you-"
"Wait!" The guns in the soldiers' hands jerked and Leon froze for a moment, waiting until they'd lowered their weapons before continuing. "Luis. Luis Sera, he was a researcher, he must have blueprints of his machine somewhere!"
The commander shook his head. "All the research data we could find was destroyed. There wasn't anything left." Stepping forward, he clapped a hand on Leon's shoulder, unnerved slightly by the ashen, pale complexion of his subordinate's face. "We tried, Leon."
After a short conversation about the arrangements he would have to make, Leon was escorted out, faintly hearing the commander say, "One of my best men, he was." He swallowed and held back a choked growl, following the four large, armed men back to his room. Leon was allowed to stay in his temporary room – the only place he could consider his comfort zone – until further notice, but under no circumstances was he allowed to leave it without an escort.
The first day went as well as one could expect, silent and lonely in the room that seemed more and more like a cell with every hour that passed. Leon occupied himself with the few books he had there and read until his eyes burned. When he finished them all, he asked for new ones, but the guards outside his room were either gone for the night or were so repulsed by him that they refused to answer.
The bastards didn't deserve to have breaks, if they couldn't deal with one monster.
Pausing his restless pacing, Leon frowned. Where had that thought come from?
Leon knew that he was considered a threat now, that the guards had every right to hate him. He understood why he was being sentenced to death.
That didn't mean he had to accept it.
"You could kill them."
Leon looked up sharply, whipping his head around to see who had spoken, but no one else was in the room. Figuring he was just hallucinating again, he laid back down and slept fitfully, waking several times during the night.
The voice didn't return, not for a few days. Again, Leon was given no reply; in fact, the only other contact he had was when his meals were brought to him, and even then he was ordered to retreat to the bathroom and shut the door so they could come in 'safely'.
They didn't stop to think that Leon could, in actuality, subdue them and make a break for it without even breaking a sweat.
"I can help you."
Again, Leon was startled by the mysterious voice, but this time, he talked back to it.
"Who are you? Show yourself," he demanded, but there was only a hiss. It sounded uncomfortably close.
"In here," it whispered. "In you."
Closing his eyes, Leon felt a cold chill dart through his spine. "The Plaga."
"Yes."
"Bite me," Leon muttered, digging the palm of his hand against his forehead.
The thing hissed indignantly, but Leon ignored it, shoved it away from his mind. He wouldn't listen to a parasite, let alone one that was in pieces.
They weren't coming. The meals had stopped arriving, no one gave him paper and a pen to write his will.
The only company he had was the parasite that kept him alive, preventing the otherwise inevitable dehydration and starvation.
Madness threatened to overtake him, the whispers of the Plaga bringing the realization that no one was going to save him, no attempts to help him whatsoever were going to be made.
Leon shut everything out, intent on sleeping and hoping someone would come in and shoot him in his sleep, but Lady Luck turned him away once again.
The door opened.
Leon didn't know how to react, so he settled on distancing himself from the man entering the room. He looked clean, almost clinical, but the dark clothing and the gun strapped to his thigh shot down any theories that he might be a scientist.
He was a dangerous man, even at first sight, and Leon knew not to underestimate him, especially while unarmed and out of practice.
"How did you get in here? There's security everywhere."
"Not anymore, there isn't." Running a hand over his slicked back hair, the man looked behind himself briefly before kicking the door shut. "I have a proposition for you, one that I expect you won't refuse."
Leon snorted in disbelief. "Jumping the gun, aren't you?"
"When you're the one sentenced to death, I doubt you mind."
He had a point.
"I spent a great deal of time arranging things to my advantage, and the only thing remaining is you, Kennedy."
Eyes narrowing, Leon contemplated running to the bathroom. There had to be something in there that he could use to defend himself. That toothbrush of his was fairly sturdy...
"Whatever it is you want me to do, I'm not doing it."
"I never said you had a choice."
"Go fuck yourself."
A gloved hand on his neck slammed him against the wall, holding him up inches above the ground. Leon scrabbled at the grip and the parasite hissed in protest, but neither did him much good. His lungs burning with lack of oxygen and his thrashing, Leon stilled when the man leaned in, face mere inches away from his.
He tilted Leon's head back and forth, observing him, and stroked the gloved tips of his fingers down his jawline. They ran briefly over his eyes, blue slowly bleeding into red from the Plaga's influence. "I can give you freedom. All I want from you is your skills as an agent, and also a... companion of sorts. And when I want something, I get it." The man spoke like he was tasting rich chocolate for the first time, and Leon resisted the urge to shiver in delight. "Impress me, and I will repay you in kind."
The prospect of having freedom, even at this cost, was tempting.
"Go with him," the Plaga whispered, having listened in. "Stay here and rot, or serve and be free. Now, pick!"
Leon shut his eyes tightly, wanting this all to be one huge nightmare. He wanted to wake up in his bed on Saturday, make coffee in his underwear and housecoat, and kick back for a day of relaxation.
He lost his choice the day he was picked up by the government.
"I-I'll do it," he said hoarsely, and the hand around his neck loosened.
Coughing and gulping down air, Leon struggled to stay upright, bracing himself against the wall. He felt dizzy from the lack of oxygen.
A gun was tossed onto the bed, as were two extra clips. Swallowing, he leaned over to pick them up, turning them over in his hand as he inspected. The gun was a common model, one that Leon was used to seeing, and the clips were much the same. The only difference was the silencer equipped
"Do I get a name from you at all?"
The man smirked, watching as Leon tested his grip on the weapon. "You may call me Wesker for the time being."
"Nice name."
Leon knew what he had to do. Striding over to the door, Leon pushed it open quietly, peering down the hall. There was a guard there, lazily checking the time on his watch.
"This is your first chance to impress me," Wesker said from behind him. He was close enough that his breath brushed the back of Leon's neck and made the tiny hairs raise up.
"Right."
Aiming carefully, Leon didn't know if it was the Plaga or himself that pulled the trigger. Freedom became the only thing on his mind, and he would take down anything that got in his way.