The boat journey was the worst of Steve's fairly short life. To add to his previous ailments, he had contracted some kind of flu-like virus, and, even though he had travelled on water-borne vehicles many times before during his childhood and been fine, he'd spent the first three days of the voyage being violently sea sick.

He spent as much time as possible asleep, and except for going to the bathroom, he never moved from the bed. But it was a feverish, unyielding sleep. The kind where you can never really tell whether you're asleep or awake; a sort of semi-conscious blur of sounds and visions that he couldn't tell were dreams or reality. During times when he was assuredly awake, he never felt any less exhausted. His skin never gained back its colour, and remained deathly pale, his hair and his nails were dull and brittle, and he felt constantly lethargic, achy and nauseous. He was beginning to feel more and more mentally and physically drained as each day passed, and he felt himself weakening still, both in body and in mind. On several occasions, he had considered the possibility that he would actually die.

This was not how it was supposed to happen. He had been saved. He had been rescued. Yet, he still felt as though he was trapped. Trapped inside his own body.

However, this 'cloud', no matter how ugly and grey, had a thin, silver lining. And that was Leon. At every waking moment, Leon was by Steve's side, bringing him blankets when he was cold, taking them off him when he was hot, bringing him water and food… just generally being 'there'. And never once did he allow Steve to feel like a burden. He made his willingness to help him blatantly clear, and took every opportunity during the short times when Steve was awake to talk to him; to reassure him.

Leon had said that Steve was mal-nourished, and that his body was in shock, which explained his sudden bout of illness at the beginning of the journey, but it probably wouldn't return. He assured him that the virus, and his fever, could be caused by anything as small as the changes in temperature, because his immune system was weak and therefore open to all kinds of viruses and infections, and that he would soon recover. No matter what new symptom Steve was afflicted with, Leon would know what it was and what to do about it. He was like a human encyclopaedia…or at least a very good survivalist with a vast general knowledge. But give him a problem, and he knew the effects, the outcomes and all of the solutions. Steve knew that he could not have possibly asked for a better companion. If it weren't for Leon, he'd have surely thrown himself overboard by now.

In any case, no matter how dire his situation was, Leon's presence made it much more bearable. As much as Leon spoke to Steve, Steve would speak back. The conversations were few, and they were short, but the more time he spent talking to Leon, the better he began to feel.

On one particular occasion, when, according to Leon, they were somewhere half way between the South Pole and South America, the general temperature had risen considerably, and Steve felt comfortable sitting up without being smothered by clothing and blankets. They had been at sea for about a week. Leon was preparing dinner in the kitchen; some kind of unappetizing-looking canned soup with chunks, and they were both somewhat enjoying the other's presence in silence.

Steve had been slowly and gradually building up his appetite since the beginning of the journey, and was now able to eat a small portion of a meal without feeling ill. He was even starting to feel hungry again, which Leon had assured him was a very good sign. Not only that, he could now confidently get up and reach the bathroom by himself without his legs feeling as though they were going to collapse under him. He was starting to feel like himself again.

As he watched the back of Leon's head distractedly, he couldn't help but feel a very comfortable affection for the man. After all, he had saved his life, not once, but over the space of their time together, likely several times, and now, even though they still knew fairly little about one another, Leon cared for him like you would a close friend. Although their meeting had been unexpected and possibly, on Leon's part at least, a hindrance, there was an obvious mutual understanding between the two that there was no hostility between them. Perhaps even the knowledge that this could be a lasting friendship.

At any rate, regardless of what Leon's feelings were towards his young companion, Steve held nothing but admiration for the man. He was like an action hero from an expensive Hollywood blockbuster. No. He was like a superhero. When at first they'd met, Leon had killed several infected individuals, both animal and human, with an impossibly accurate pistol aim, picked a lock without any special equipment, climbed through a ventilation shaft to unlock a door for his injured fellow traveller, and then driven for three days in the middle of a snowstorm, without sleep. Not only that, but he was insanely strong, could apparently also drive a boat, and had enough medical and geographical knowledge to navigate his way across the Antarctic ocean, while caring for, and possibly saving the life of (for the second time), another on board. Add a dash of his modest charm, and the fact that he was…undeniably very attractive, and somewhere along the way, several of the best human genes had missed everyone else and amalgamated in one body.

That was Leon. S. Kennedy.

"You hungry?"

Once again, Leon interrupted one of Steve's many internal deliberations. It was rather ironic, actually, that every time he did interrupt one of them, that deliberation was about him. As a matter of fact, Steve spent a lot of his time thinking about Leon. Perhaps too much of it.

"Uh…yeah." He smiled to show his appreciation. Not that it was forced; he was always genuinely grateful.

Leon seemed pleased with this response, and, instead of his usual place at the small dining area, situated himself at the end of the bed by Steve's feet, handing him a hot, surprisingly good smelling bowl of the questionable soup, taking another for himself.

"So, are you feeling better today? You look a little better." He mused, watching the younger man slightly cheerfully.

"Yeah…yeah, I am." Steve nodded, unable to hold back the smile that forced itself from the corners of his lips; Leon was always energetic, but it was actually fairly rare to see him show any kind of obvious emotion.

It was nice to see him so…happy.

"Good. Well, you should eat. It'll make you feel a whole lot better once you start eating proper meals."

Leon laughed lightly when he saw Steve look at the bowl dubiously.

"It's not that bad, I promise." He chuckled as he ate a spoonful of the soup himself, as though proving a point. "It's cheap, and it lasts a long time, but it's made for long journeys like this in cold weather, so it'll give you your strength back. Plus, I just spent a good three minutes slaving over a hot stove to heat this up, and I'm gonna be offended if you don't eat it."

The younger man laughed, eating a spoonful slowly. It was thick, and hot, and actually tasted pretty good. Just the thought that he was finally able to eat a proper meal was enough to make him feel a little better in itself. Leon seemed pleased at the fact that Steve was finally eating more than energy bars and dried fruit, and watched the boy with a satisfied expression, his features much softer than their usual tense position. Leon never looked sad or angry, but his brow was always furrowed in concentration. Perhaps it was stress. His job certainly seemed like an unforgiving one, and with few rewards. Steve hoped at least that he was getting paid a lot to do it.

"So…what do you 'do', anyway? Like, are you a cop or something? You don't seem like any cop I've ever seen." Steve voiced his uncertainty. He didn't want to pry too much, though; Leon had never openly spoken about his job. Did that mean it was something secret?

Leon paused, his eyes still on Steve. The question didn't seem to be an uncomfortable one, so that was a good start, but the man took a while with his answer.

"I work for the government."

"The government?" Steve paused, a hint of excitement in his voice. "Are you a spy?"

Leon laughed again, shaking his head.

"Not exactly. I guess some parts of my job are classified, but it's not a secret. I'm on guard duty most of the time."

"Guarding who?"

"The President."

Steve paused, sure he looked as shocked as he felt.

"Are you serious? So…so, you really are a secret agent. Man, that is so cool. You're like James Bond."

Leon laughed again, nearly spitting some of his soup out, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb.

"That's one way to look at it, I guess. But I'm just doing my job. I'm no more special than anyone else. And for the record, I do it because I want to help people, not for money and women. And wearing a suit while doing what 'I' do, would be a little bit more than an inconvenience. I've never met the Queen of England, either."

"Bummer."

Steve ate the rest of his soup, the broth quickly warming him up. He felt a lot more energetic than he had the past few days, too, which was a great relief, but that's not to say that he felt 'well'. He just felt better.

"So, why are you here? If you're on guard duty 'most' of the time, then what about the rest? And…why did you save me? I'm pretty sure they don't send a special agent who works for the president to the middle of the Antarctic just to save one kid."

Leon looked over at him again, placing his spoon down in the empty bowl and pushing it across onto the kitchen counter.

"I saved you because you needed help. That's all there is to it. Maybe I wasn't there for that reason, but you're what my job is all about. You're why I do it in the first place. If I can save even one person, then it makes all this worthwhile."

"Then…why were you here?"

At this question, Leon paused. He looked slightly conflicted, as though he couldn't decide whether to answer or not. Steve knew that there was a lot about Leon's job he couldn't reveal, that was obvious. Plus, they had only met about ten days ago. Even if Leon wanted to tell him the answer, he couldn't properly trust him.

"Have you heard of 'Umbrella'? They ran the facility where I found you." He finally answered, his expression slightly serious. Angry, almost.

"Yeah…I've heard of them. Who hasn't?" His throat went a little dry and his chest tightened. He knew about Umbrella, alright. Not a day went by when he couldn't see that ominous, red and white octagonal logo in his subconscious mind.

"My job…was never really to be a Presidential guard. Ever since Umbrella caused the outbreak in Raccoon City, I've been working to stop that from ever happening again. Well, as you must know, Umbrella has secret facilities all over the world. Who knows how many. All I know is, they're trying to use these viruses as a form of bio-warfare, even going as far as kidnapping people to turn them into bio organic weapons and selling them on to terrorist organisations. The facility you were locked up in was the first we've discovered in about eight months, and I was dispatched just over a month ago to scope out the area and to search the facility for information. I had no idea there'd be anyone still alive in there."

"I barely was…I mean, if you hadn't come along…"

Leon cut him short.

"But I did. And you're going to recover. And I'm gonna make sure you get home safe, okay? You don't owe me anything."

Steve gulped back the lump in his throat, his eyes meeting Leon's. In the moonlight coming down the stairwell, they looked more silver than grey; menacing and slightly stern, but at the same time, so pure and sincere. His stare was intense. Almost breathtaking.

"Thank you."