Derek spun the knife in his hand as he paced, the silver blade stained with Leon's dried blood. He stopped and faced the bound agent.

"Where is the device?"

Leon glared up at him defiantly, his lips pressed into a tight line. Simmons flicked the knife across his cheek, opening a thin cut that welled with small beads of crimson.

"What is on the device?"

Again, he was greeted by silence. He sighed and cut a line over Leon's collarbone. He had infinite amounts of time to play with the stubborn man, who still hadn't gotten the idea through his thick skull. He would make it easier on himself if he just told the truth.

"Who has the device?"

"Go to Hell." Leon spat. Simmons grinned, flicking Leon's bangs out of his eyes with the tip of the blade.

"You seem to forget who holds your life in his hands."

"Do I? Because without me, you'll never get your hands on that data. I'm the only one that knows where it is. So maybe you should back the fuck off before I withhold the information from you forever."

Simmons growled angrily, his flesh rippling as he fought the urge to transform. He drove the blade into Leon's stomach and stepped back, running a hand through his hair even though it wasn't out of place. Leon smirked victoriously through the pain.

'You'll have to do better than that."

"Oh, I plan on it. That is a promise." Derek ripped the knife from Leon's stomach, eliciting a small groan from the agent. He admired the crimson liquid that slid down the blade before setting it on the table and grabbing a large canister filled with water.

"Have you heard of water cure?" Simmons chimed as he approached Leon.

Oh, he'd heard of it alright. It was a form of torture that had been used since the 15th century. The victim was forced to ingest large quantities of water to stop themselves from literally drowning via suffocation. If the victim consumed too much water, they could easily die from actual water poisoning, caused by overhydrating of the electrolytes in the brain. Or even less pleasantly, gastric distension, which can literally cause the contents of the stomach to come up the esophagus and spill down into the lungs, hence the drowning.

"You get points for being crafty, I'll give you that."

Simmons grabbed Leon's jaw and forced his mouth open, tilting the canister over his face. The cold water splashed over his skin and poured into his mouth. As long as he didn't lose his cool, he wouldn't have to worry about drowning.

Leon was forced to swallow the cold water, taking gulp after gulp until his stomach began to ache. His gaze met Simmon's and he glared daggers at the man, who looked overly smug. As the canister was emptied, Simmon's released Leon and he took long gasps for air.

"Hmm. You're more resilient than I initially thought."

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises." Leon sputtered, flicking his wet bangs out of his eyes. Rivers of water slid down his chin as he panted, watching the older man as he grabbed a second canister. He hardly had time for reprieve as Simmons took up his prior position and forced more of the liquid down his throat.

Halfway through a deep breath of air, the sudden introduction of the water making Leon cough and choke due to laryngospasm. He heard Simmons' laughter as he suffocated, his throat and lungs burning. He could see the terror in his expression in the reflection of Simmons glinting eyes. Leon frantically pulled at his restraints, the handcuffs biting into his wrists as he felt himself slowly dying. His struggle ceased and he went limp, an unexplained calm filling his mind as he lost focus on the overwhelming pain.

As he was released, Leon slumped forward, his eyes open and seeing but not registering anything. Water dripped from his lips and he was vaguely aware he could breathe again, but the near death experience had rattled him to his core. A firm grip on his chin forced him to look up, his unfocused gaze falling on the sadistic tyrant before him.

"Remember Leon, I have nothing but time. I can play with you forever. Or, you can tell me what's on that fucking device!" Simmons spat angrily, practically seething. Leon managed a weak smile.

"It's the cure to the c-virus. And you'll never get it."

The cure? There was a cure? And the stubborn fucking agent was the only one that knew where it was, or exactly, what it was. He grabbed the younger man by the shoulders, shaking him roughly.

"Where is it? Where is the cure?"

Leon slumped forward again, his head hanging. His stomach was cramped painfully and he felt like his bladder was about to explode soon. He let out a soft groan, a wave of exhaustion overcoming him. How long had it been since he slept? Two days? Three? He couldn't remember. A sharp slap across the face had him hissing and gritting his teeth.

"What is the cure?"

"I'm tired of playing these fucking games, Leon. Tell me what I need to know and I might show you mercy."

Leon scoffed. What good would that do him?

"Not worth it. You'll have to up the ante."

Simmons growled under his breath. That cocky, ill-suited, hopeless man still thought he could afford to bargain in his position? What fucking nerve.

Leon's attention snapped to the handcuffs that were being unlocked, or more specifically, handcuff. Singular. Simmons freed the agents left arm and grabbed it, pulling roughly making Leon jerk forward in his seat.

"What is the cure for the c-virus?"

"I don't know, and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you." Leon hissed at the man. Simmons gripped the agent's bicep and forearm, and in one quick movement, he snapped the bone right at the elbow.

Leon's eyes dilated and he screamed in agony, attempting to free the injured limb from Simmons, who tightened his grip in response. Simmons put pressure on the fracture, splintering it more and eliciting another beautiful scream from the younger man.

"What is the cure for the c-virus?" Simmons asked again, his patience swaying.

"I don't know!" Leon cried, waves of pain shooting up his arm.

"You lie!" Simmons snarled, adjusting his grip and snapping the bone a second time. He licked his lips as he watched the pained expressions cover Leon's face, who was far past attempting to hide his agony. The younger man was panting hard and shaking his head back and forth.

"I swear! Please!" Leon begged pathetically. Suddenly he was freed from the rest of his restraints and pulled to his feet by his injured arm, the wound sending more bolts of pain up his arm.

"Fight you pathetic whelp!" Simmons shoved him back, making the agent stumble until his back hit the edge of the table. He quickly grabbed the combat knife, still red with his own blood, and took up a defensive stance. Simmons advanced on him at Leon swung at the older man with the knife. His movements were sloppy at best and Simmons caught his hand, twisting it and making him drop the knife. He threw Leon against the wall, his breath hot on Leon's neck.

"What is the cure for the c-virus?"

"I don't know!"

Simmons growled, his skin trembling as his form began to change. His bones cracked into place as he took on a form that was half-human and half-beast. He gripped Leon by the vest, his claws scraping the fabric as he slammed the younger man against the wall repeatedly. Leon moaned in pain, his vision losing focus. He was tossed onto the floor, gasping as the impact forced the air from his lungs. Simmons was on him, straddling his body so he couldn't escape. A piercing pain made Leon's breath hitched and he looked down, seeing the claws embedded deep into his stomach.

"You will tell me what I want to know!" Leon attempted to push the man off of him, but his arms were slammed to the floor and pinned, making him cry out as his injured arm was abused. A thousand ideas ran through Derek's mind of how to make Leon suffer, each as enticing as the last.

Leon knew if he didn't say something quick he was in for another world full of hurt. He really didn't know what was on the usb, but Simmons was convinced otherwise. He would have to make up some half-assed lie in hopes of saving himself. He just prayed Simmons was dumb enough to believe him.

"Wait!" Leon cried out as the man stopped a punch that was aimed for his face. Simmons hesitated, wondering if the younger man had actually caved.

"The cure… it comes from a flower found in Africa. It's called Stairway of the Sun."

Leon held is breath as Simmons considered it. He had no idea what made him chose the flower, which had been used in strains of the t-virus. Simmons flexed his claws before striking Leon in the chest.

"You think me that stupid? Foolish boy!" Simmons let out an inhuman snarl as he delivered blow after blow, the satisfying sound of bones crunching heard. Something flashed in Leon's eyes, a sharp pain shooting through his chest. He attempted to breathe, but could only manage quick, shallow breaths, that didn't suffice his need for oxygen. Two of his ribs had broken and punctured his left lung, causing it to collapse. He trembled as he looked up at Simmons, the rage fading from his eyes and being replaced with the realization of what he had done. Leon smirked weakly, his teeth stained with red.

"You… lose." His head fell back and tilted to the side, eyes shut and body unmoving.

Simmons released his hold on Leon and stood suddenly. This couldn't be happening. In his anger he had killed Leon. He quickly produced his phone and called the medical unit for the building. In moments, Sasha and two other male doctors burst through the door.

"What did you do?!" Sasha demanded as he collapsed beside the fallen man, checking for a pulse. There was none, the man completely still. He didn't wait for an answer before lifting Leon into his arms and rushing out of the room, the two doctors hot on his heels.

Derek stood, frozen in place, staring at the spot on the floor that the broken man had been lying on only moments ago. How could he be so reckless? Leon was his. He couldn't lose him. Wouldn't lose him. He suddenly couldn't imagine his life without Leon in it. He ran a hand through his hair and paced. Even if Leon survived, if somehow he could be brought back from death, he would be incredibly fragile. That didn't matter at the moment, though. He made his way to the hospital wing, ignoring the pleas of a nurse, and made his way to the operating room. The door was locked and he watched through the window as Sasha unzipped Leon's vest and pushed his shirt aside, taking hold of the defibrillators and pushing them against the deceased man's chest. His body convulsed hard, but the line on the monitor remained flat. The process was repeated several times before the line moved, broken by several jagged lines. A tube was forced down Leon's throat and the men began slipping on latex gloves, preparing for surgery. The nurse guided Derek to the waiting room but instead he headed outside and lit a smoke, inhaling deeply. He was relieved that Leon could be resuscitated and let out a deep breath.

Leon's eyes fluttered open slightly. He instantly became aware of his surroundings, which appeared to be a lavish master bedroom. His eyes scanned the room, which was void of any personal effects, other than his clothing that sat folded on the bedside table.

Wait, what?

Leon sat up quickly, the comforter falling to his lap. He was still in his silk boxers, thankfully. He looked himself over, about a third of his body was wrapped in white bandages. He reached up and pulled his bangs from under one wrapped around his forehead. Simmons had done a fair amount of damage to him, and he assumed his lackeys brought him back from the dead. He couldn't remember a thing after seeing the regret in Simmons eyes, but it was there. His arm still hurt whenever he moved it, but he assumed the bone was in the process of healing. He sighed and let himself fall back into the pillows. There was no point in attempting to escape; he could hardly sit up without his head spinning. He let his eyes fall shut, and in a matter of moments passed out.

"Sir, I don't think it would be wise-"

"Stand down."

Leon was awoken by voices outside the door. His eyes flicked to it as it opened, and none other than Derek Simmons strode in. Leon swallowed and forced himself into a sitting position, weary of another beating as the man approached.

"How are you feeling?" Simmons asked as he sat on the edge of the bed, figure turned so he could watch Leon. The agent scoffed and looked away.

"Like shit, no thanks to you."

"What happened two days ago was a mistake, I assure you."

"Mistake or not, you still killed me. Problem is, I didn't stay dead." Simmons' hand shot out and grabbed Leon's jaw, forcing him to stare into burning eyes. Leon had begun to have suspicions about the older man's intentions. While he was sure he wanted the cure to heal himself, he couldn't help but wonder if he had any ulterior motives.

"Do not say that. I have no intention of killing you, now or ever." Leon thought he heard concern in Simmons voice. Why would he care so much if Leon had stayed dead? Because he wouldn't have someone to torture day in and day out?

Leon couldn't deny the fact the brunets hand lingered far longer than it needed two, nor that his thumb brushed across Leon's cheek. He turned his gaze to the window, which had a small strip of light filtering between the closed drapes.

"For the next few days you will remain here until you recover." Leon watched as Simmons stood and made his way to the door, letting himself out. The audible sound of a lock clicking into place told Leon he had no choice. He was just thankful to finally have some time alone.

Sasha stopped by later in the day to bring Leon a bowl of jell-o and a glass of water, though he didn't linger. Leon had managed to eat and keep the food in his stomach, thankfully and proceeded to wander about the room. He emptied his overly full bladder and rinsed out his mouth, making sure to wash away any remains of the blood from his teeth. He found a short silk robe in the closet and wrapped it around himself, tying the ribbon around his waist and hesitating as he saw the small embroidered initials.

D. C. S.

Leon's eyes widened as the realization hit him. He was not only wearing Simmons' robe, but was holed up in his room. The thought made a dozen questions fill his mind, but one ate at him more than the others: what did Derek Simmons really want from him?