This fanfiction is written for no profit, without permission, and without laying claim to the intellectual property of Capcom. All characters are not my property.
13. Empty
Krauser circles, avoiding the body of a soldier. He and Kennedy are starting to stage a duel, and he's marshalling his strength. He's got to make it good without messing up and cutting Kennedy open. Pain's static crackling in his head, but he can ignore it. He thinks, "he's not gonna die yet."
He's left another razor slice on Kennedy's throat, right under the scab from last time he had him pinned. He doesn't think Kennedy's noticed it yet. It's still bleeding. He's a little disgusted with himself. After the doors unlocked and there was just silence, he knew something had been waiting and Leon was headless. Grabbing him had been really fucking stupid, though. He's still not sure why he did.
He's hurting. He knows he's really gonna hurt when this is over. He's almost grateful for the burn he got from the fuel. It's gonna be a distraction, gonna give him a reason to be pissed off when he's back with Wesker.
He attacks. Kennedy moves like he's a fish in water, totally at ease with fighting. His body is slender and looks light, but Krauser knows his solidity, knows how much power the man can put into a strike. What really gets Krauser, though, is that he's still got the edge in a knife fight. Everything's changed but that.
And then they're at the corner. He prays Leon really puts everything into it, because they're out in the open and there are no clouds. Wesker could be watching like he were right beside them, and he's not gonna be fooled by a halfhearted shove. Leon doesn't let him down. He ducks Krauser's sweep, pivots, and his boot catches Krauser right in the ribs high on the left side and knocks him clean on his ass. Now Krauser just gets to hope he's not looking back. He claps a hand over the spot, pops out the full-fledged arm, and leaps to his feet to hear the sound of a closing door.
Good. He has to follow through. He stumbles to the wall, leans on it, pushes off and staggers towards the door with one hand out. Big enough to show weakness, if Wesker's watching, make it look like he's really gonna have trouble catching up.
He's at the doors when his plaga shrieks something and writhes. Saddler's close by. He spins, looking back. Nothing. He puts his hand on the door, finds it locked, and realizes where the fascist freak is. Right in there with Leon.
The high from their fight evaporates. Leon's gonna die now.
He bangs futilely on the door. Then he gets a grip, backs up, and leaps for the roof. And—oh, thank God, that's Ada's voice inside—what in hell's wrong with him? Glad to hear Ada? And then there's gunfire and explosions and his plaga begging him not to enter the building.
Something heavy crashes against the window, blocking his entrance, and he kicks it out of the way. Ada bursts out, grabbing him as she passes and trying to take him along with her momentum. He cooperates, mostly to humor her. He gets a lot more serious about moving when a fucking huge tentacle punches out and dents the metal railing.
"Go," she says simply. "I'll lead him." She seems to have the calm of someone who's planned for this. Not how she'd be if Leon got hurt. He leaps up for the roof and ducks out of sight. He hears Saddler scrabbling out of the window. The building shakes as the old freak drops down a level. Krauser finds a window and is back indoors. Ada's doubtless got her escape route all lined up. He'll stay out of the way and let the woman work. He's got his own business to handle.
But Leon's face hangs in his head, and his brain colors it gray and blood-flecked like the faces of so many friends over so many years, and he has to see for himself.
14. Folding
I'm the President's daughter. No matter where I go, I remember that. It's been really helpful. Do wish I'd had a chance to bring my journal, because I've had a lot of time to just sit and think recently.
Leon's pretty beaten up. I'm not doing so great either. I'm really, really tired. I try not to say anything or whine. Leon never complains about taking hits for me. But, see, I've been on the run, and I just got hit with this massive dose of radiation and this big parasite thing in my body jerked around and dissolved, and I'm hurting.
Which is one of the reasons why I scream when my hulking barbaric kidnapper comes around the corner, looking like some freaky woad raider guy. Leon leaps to my side and starts to pull me back, but then he just relaxes. Oh, that's helpful. I scoot behind him a bit as he starts, "Krauser. What happened?"
"Saddler's moving away like he's after something. Don't know what." He nods at me. "See you two got together again. You okay?"
Stupid question. "Fine, except I'm here." I see Leon looking at me like he's just now noticed the shape I'm in. I change my tone for him. "I just need rest. I can do that once we get out."
"Does he know where your escape route is?" And suddenly I don't exist again. Gee, almost was getting spoiled for a moment there.
"I'm not sure." Leon shakes his head. "There's a couple ways into the water. Think he knows how we got here yet?"
"Maybe not, if you killed everyone in the area. There's a dock up ahead. You might find a spare boat."
"Um." I'm really, really tired of being the weak one, but my stomach feels kinda odd. "I need to sit down for a while."
"Here." Leon helps me to a barrel.
"I don't hear Saddler anywhere in the area," the big scarred guy says, which is a kinda odd thing to say. He's staring off at the wall. And then I quit trying to pay attention, because I feel sort of cold and shivery in my gut.
"Okay, I'm gonna be over here." I stagger towards the corner, getting just out of sight behind a small column, and throw up. Only I haven't eaten anything in ages. It's really, really nasty.
"New plan, Ashley." Leon rubs my back in small circles. Great, and I don't really want to be noticed now. "We hide. Rest for five minutes. Then if you're not better, I'll carry you out."
"Yeah." I follow him, because I can still walk, back into a small storage room and curl up behind the crates. Leon moves the boxes into a bit more of a nest and then they move away a bit to give me privacy.
15. Reshuffle
"You hurt?" It's a stupid question; Leon's moving stiffly and there's dried blood in several places on his shirt. But Krauser has to ask. He keeps his voice low, although Ashley lay down like she was almost out of it anyway.
"Not bad."
This moment's gonna be gone at just about any time now. His plaga's tense and waiting, listening with all its little wormy heart to see if it can hear Saddler coming. And Leon's only partly with him, worried about Graham, of course. They're resting for the moment on a bench opposite the door, backs to the wall. They're both braced to jump back up. Leon's turned to be able to see out the window.
It's nice to just have the time to breathe, and listen to Leon breathing. Know his back's covered. He just feels the seconds tick by and wishes the world had a pause button.
And then the moment gets a little—okay, a lot—more uncertain, because Leon's just shifted and his back is against Krauser's arm. Great. He thinks he's leaning against a support beam in the wall. Won't be long before he realizes the "wall" is pretty warm and this'll get awkward. Leon might just ignore it, but considering the day they've all had, he could flip his shit. Krauser isn't sure which, but is way too tired to push it. Give him a chance to realize and just move away.
A minute and a half left until he goes and sees where Saddler ended up, and then it's sample-getting free-for-all time. Ada knows what she's doing. Probably leading Saddler into a minefield.
Kennedy's head turns. Krauser had been planning on being busy staring at the far wall about now, but he can't help but meet his eyes. This close, Kennedy's impossible not to look at; it's a miracle he's gotten through all he has and still looks confident and unbroken and unscarred. Like heroism is some sort of magic cape that keeps you safe while you're doing the right thing, only Krauser's never been dumb enough to buy that. He wonders what Kennedy's seeing, because those eyes are unreadable. A waste of skill? A burned-out friend with a burned face? He sits there with his mouth open like an oversized idiot, waiting for Leon to shove off.
And then there's a hand in his hair, gentle but totally undeniable, and Kennedy's in close. They're lip to lip, and he's got to accept that as real, and he tastes Kennedy's warmth, salty and weary. They're both battered but still alive. It's overwhelming. It's been coming, yeah, but he never thought he'd get it. His burned lips sting, but a little pain's always been fine by him. He drops a hand over Leon's--as if this careful kiss wasn't girly enough--and he feels like he's found something that's been lost for a long time. That reminds him he'll just lose it again soon and never get it back. Too much. He puts a hand to Leon's neck, trying to ignore the finger-shaped bruises there, and pulls away. They both look to the door first to be sure it's still safe.
"Gonna go look around." He can't look at him any more. Leon's flushed up all pretty, either with uncertainty or embarassment or anger or—Krauser really needs to stop thinking about this. And quit thinking he's pretty, dammit. He heads for the door. Behind him, he hears Leon crossing to Ashley's shelter.
Out in the hall, he just keeps moving. He always knew who he was, but military life required never saying much about that, so he just played it solo and didn't get involved with anyone. Would have been an even better idea one minute ago, considering he's with a completely government-nonsanctioned organization and Leon's practically Secret Service.
He doesn't even bother telling himself it'll never work, because he knows they won't both make it out. And, okay, he just doesn't want to hear it right now.
16. Fold.
That had been stupid.
Seeing Krauser like that, hurting from what he'd done to help, and looking so unsure, and not moving away. . . it had just grabbed him on a level he hadn't expected. He'd learned his lesson about not doing something when he had the chance.
Okay, it had been a calculated move at first, seeing if Krauser knew what was up in his own head. It was just a little – well – he'd been straight for years, right? Maybe a little bent, but still, straight. That had been jumping without looking.
He mentally slapped himself. It wasn't like he'd sworn devotion. This wasn't getting Ashley home. He checked on her. Well, she wasn't going to be any more active in three minutes. Might as well go now.
"Come on," he said. "I'll carry you."
17. Tapout.
He reaches a place on the cliff face where there's a ravine, looks across the way, and sees a slim shape vaulting up through the air. Can only be Ada. He changes direction to meet with her. He pauses once to check her progress, and sees a deformed, flapping shape ascending the cliff after her, leg by leg.
Fuuuuuck. She didn't lose him and she's getting backed into a corner. Krauser leaps up to the cliff path and really starts running. He'll never like Ada. He'll waste no time remembering her once she's gone. But she kept Leon alive while he didn't care. He owes her.
He comes up to the working platform. Saddler's got Ada backed up under an overhanging metal shelf, with no way for her to flip out of reach. Trying to distract him, he fires low, aiming for Saddler's knees.
Wait a minute. He's just an asshole trying to play the hero.
That thought takes no time at all to percolate through his brain, so he's not even surprised when something slams into the small of his back. He's sure his spine's snapped. He is surprised when he has the chance and ability to get up. His plaga's begging to defend his vulnerable abdomen, and he lets it burst out as he cradles his TMP and looks for Saddler.
Saddler's approaching, all smiles. But long, snaky gray tentacles curl from his sleeves. "Krauser. I never thought you'd come forward." One swing and Krauser's bouncing off the wall. He lands stunned, hauling his arm back in too slowly to protect himself—goddammit! He's gonna get killed by a fascist! Oh, this is just too much. He bares his teeth and readies the knife in futile defiance.
Ada whips in fast and hard and lets Saddler have it right in the back with a shotgun. But Saddler rocks forward and just takes it, not even moving his feet, and slams one arm down onto Krauser's head. He sees the blur of Saddler start to turn, but then everything's too blurry to tell and he's out.
When the black retreats, he's got dirt in his teeth, and Ada's a long red line hanging in the air. Probably by her neck. And that's Kennedy's voice. Krauser's own personal hero, showing up right before the battered failure is finished off. Fucking humiliating. He rolls up to his feet, not willing to admit he's done, and then his ribs grate against each other and he's back down fast. He loses track of everything for a moment. When he can see again, he looks down. His side's torn up. He sees jagged white in with the orange and red. Dark orange blood is starting to pool under him.
"Move to the north platform and climb down," says Ada from above him, as he's blinking to shrink the black spots. Her heels clack rapidly away.
"Aren't you dead?" he asks. It's not worth the pain or feeling stupid, but at least his lungs still work. What in hell's going on? He pushes himself up one side at a time and looks around. That's Leon, fighting Saddler, and that's Saddler going down in a mass of limbs but not beaten, and that's Ada running madly across a catwalk, and that sudden explosion of pain is a stunned nerve bundle waking back up. It's just gonna get worse, and he's got to stop the bleeding. He moves, and it looks like miles to the stairs.
Not only has he just saved Jack's ass, Kennedy'd been the one with the stones to actually make a move. Christ.
He doesn't need help climbing in the chopper. He does need morphine, and he gets it.
18. Hand.
He's cleaning his blade, trying to get all the gunk off it. His hand closes on the blade and it's thick and dull. How'd that happen? He opens his eyes to find his grip tight on the side of the cot. There's the steady sound of a motor, and he's floating. It's really nice. Oh yeah. Chopper. And morphine.
"Wong," he says.
"Right here." She moves within his line of sight.
"So he's dead." It doesn't hurt yet. Everything's too unreal.
"Yes."
"Graham too?" he says, through the sinking feeling even morphine can't lift.
"Oh, you meant Leon? Saddler didn't get him." She sounds surprised, and glances towards the chopper pilot. "He may have had time to get out. He was running for Graham last I saw."
It's a massive upheaval in the way he knows things work. He blinks at her until she nods, and then he just puts it aside to wonder at later. "Did we finish the objective?"
"Got my sample right here." She holds it up, smiling at it, and her fingernails click on the case for the others. He doesn't miss the possessive, even drugged.
"Fine. Chair's mine, though." He shifts, hears the papers crackle in his pocket. He found the machine after the duo was done with it, printed out the specs and photographed it and took the files off the nearby computers. If there's another outbreak, Umbrella won't be so afraid of loss. "Wesker know?"
"He's waiting for our reports." There's a clear note of warning in her voice, and he knows better than to risk saying anything right now, when he's feeling giddy and light and everything's open for sharing. Morphine is good stuff.
He breathes for a moment, noticing the taste of medication and blood as he wakes up a little more. Hey, Kennedy lived. He thinks of Kennedy's surprisingly soft mouth. It's the first really good memory in. . . he doesn't know how long. A wave of exhaustion rolls up around him. "You're going to hate me."
"Why do you say that?" She sounds more curious than concerned. But he's under again before he can answer.
19. Winning
Leon understands why she did it. Ada had her mission, and he's got his. Sure, the aiming at the back of his head was an unpopular move. And the smirking? Bit much. He pats the jetski that she gave him. She'd walked away from him. Walked back into the arms of Umbrella, but at least this time round she'd left his life uninjured.
She'd helped him and used him at once, and he isn't sure where one ends and the other begins. Now he doubts she was hoping they could still find something, sometime. He lets go of that dream just a bit more.
Ashley's weight is settled warm against his back. She looks better now that they're out in the sun, but he's glad they're headed for doctors. He squints in the glare. It's kinda pretty out here, but nowhere near as nice as a dinner plate or a bed will be.
Krauser'd never reappeared after leaving the small side room. The man's possibly dead. Leon hasn't looked back at the smoking island. He can't; it's way too complicated. Images flick through his mind: that knife at his neck, the surge of adrenaline at seeing Jack killing soldiers, the permanent chance of attack. The "hooray, we're going to die in five" lip. . . thing.
Yeah. It's way too complicated. He opens up the throttle on the jetski. Ashley's arms tighten briefly. He just hopes that, whatever's happened to him, Jack's at peace.
Hey. . . "I don't hear Saddler?" What had Jack meant by that one?