+Author's note:

So, like Capcom, I'm doing this thing where I remake my stuff. Hopefully, it comes out better. Ultimately, it may come out worse. This is the risk of me. So, if you've read it, maybe it'll have some new surprises. If you haven't, welcome.

You'll find this version of 6 lighter, softer, and a little less serious. I'm working on so much dark and angsty other stuff pulling out old stories to revise them is a nice break.

I'm with you, Mr. President

Ivy University, Tall Oaks, 2013

"Bioterrorism is a global threat," Leaning on the desk in the plush and yet understated office of the Dean of Admissions, Adan Benford, otherwise known to the free world as the President of the United States, was addressing the other person in the room with him, "We need the world on our side here. We need to come together and address it. It's legion. It's destructive. It's worse, in some ways, than any other kind of terrorism because it happens behind closed doors. It happens in our backyards. It happens while we think we're making cures. If we don't get the rest of the world on board? We're facing an extinction event here. And soon."

He picked up the two fingers of Remy Martin in the prism-like high ball glass on the mahogany desk. He turned, looking out the window and down into the courtyard where college kids played and laughed and lived in the perfect spill of golden sunlight. It was pristine, this college, his alma mater. It had created a man who would become a judge, a senator, and who would be elected to the highest office in the land. This college would make a President. It was pristine. How could he keep it that way? Could he protect it? Knowing what he knew, knowing how deep the ties that bound were to the darkness on the other side? Could he protect anything when the terrorist was in his inner circle?

He knew- he knew, and so did the other man in the room; they knew someone was dirty. They knew someone was selling secrets and working against them. They knew the threat of contamination was widespread. They couldn't run down the stench of decay and rot yet, not yet, but it started by enlisting the rest of the world to help police it. And help? It came with a price.

That price was the truth.

"The only way to get the world with us? Is to come clean." He turned back to face the other man bearing witness to his destiny. Friends. He'd seen the boy grow to be a man. They'd stood across from each other and laughed and shared humor, friendship, and loyalty. He faced him now and felt that unwavering respect and dedication. And it humbled him. "We have to tell the world about Raccoon City."

The other man in attendance shifted, feeling the shiver of that remark down his spine. "Be sure, Adam. Be absolutely sure. If we open this door? We can't close it again. It's done. There are no more secrets, no more cover-ups, and no more executive orders to excuse what happened there."

"I wasn't the president when it happened. But I knew what I was getting into when I took this office. I know how bad it will get. There is no excuse for how it went down. Less so for the coward that pulled the trigger on sanitizing it. And even less for the conspiracy that is still infecting the world because of it. I want it done. I want it over. If it means I take the fall for it? So be it. If it means you finally get to retire and give up the fight? I'm ok with that too."

"Whatever you decide? I'm with you, Mr. President. Always."

Adam Benford smiled, and they shook hands. The boy who was now the man had the ear of the most powerful man in the world and had stood in the ashes of that burning city to be born in blood that day all those years ago. He'd been a wet behind the ears rookie cop with one whole day of experience. He was now in command of one of the strongest agencies in the known world regarding bioterrorism. He was there, in Tall Oaks, as a courtesy to the man who'd once changed his diapers and was now the leader of the free world.

He'd been a rookie once. Now he was simply a friend. And both? Both were Leon Scott Kennedy.

"I've always valued your friendship, Leon. You know that. I'm going to get ready to give the biggest speech of my entire life. Let's see how that friendship holds up against the scrutiny of the entire world."

"Mr. President, my loyalty is bulletproof. I promise you."

"Well, go get a drink and relax. In twenty-four hours? We're going to either change the world or bring it down around our ears."

Tall Oaks' sleepy little college town was pleasant and quaint and reminded one of what Sleepy Hollow might have looked like when Icabod Crane had made his legendary dash from the Headless Horsemen. It was lined with rows and rows of shops and classic architecture that harkened back to an easier time when one could go to the local hardware store, stop in a café, and window shop the local vendors on a lazy, sunny day. It was missing the stamp of commerce: Starbucks and Walmart and "the man." The town square was pretty and encompassed multiple city blocks of private shop owners peddling their handmade and personal wear.

College kids moved through the streets, eating handmade ice cream cones and carrying little bags etched with local flair. He sat in the wrought iron chair outside on the patio of the local café, sipping three fingers of scotch. He wondered if he'd ever been young enough just to run around laughing and kissing on the sidewalk while the breeze played with his hair.

Once, he had been, and Adam was offering the chance to get that back. Retire, he'd said, and it was an exciting concept. He was thirty-five, successful, handsome, and articulate. He had a good sense of humor, a nearly genius-level IQ, and plenty of skills cultivated through years of training and dedication. What came after this?

What happened when he put down the sword?

Leon Kennedy tapped his chin with his finger and considered. Maybe children? Marriage? What about the concept of simply becoming a political animal? He'd make a helluva president. He had the money, the connections, the prestige. He could do it. Hell, he even had the name for it.

Could they eradicate bioterrorism with the rest of the world on their side? Could they finally, finally, finally put the T-virus in its ugly coffin and bury it with the bodies it had created all these years? That would be a mass grave, to be sure, since it had stuck its infected fingers into a thousand pies since it was created in a dirty lab under a dying city. It had spawned ugly children and been bought and sold and thrown down on cities and towns and airports and used as a weapon against the innocent.

Was there an end to it? And what came next?

Out loud, he said, "Vacation."

And that? That sounded like Nirvana.

He studied a pretty college girl eyeing him from across the street. He lifted a brow. She giggled and waved. He chuckled a little and gestured with his glass.

Tempting. He liked a good uncomplicated fuck as much as the next guy. But since the chances were she was more than a decade younger than him; he was also not interested. If he were old enough to be her father, he would stay clear of shitting in that proverbial wasteland of drama and late-night phone calls filled with angst and regret. No. Fucking. Thank you.

Objectively, he was good-looking. He always had been. He wore designer clothes like some men wore jeans. He made it seem natural and easy. His face had survived the barrage of fighting, bleeding, and multiple runs for his life that had peppered his career and was still primarily unlined and aging well. He was dirty blonde and rocking the shaggy hair that had been with him for nearly twenty years. It was longer now and less controlled, but it suited the age of his face. He was honed and physically fit to be fast and capable in battle.

He was a warrior. What did he do when he put down the sword?

"Mr. Kennedy, your reputation proceeds you."

He glanced up and was interested, just like that. No young college girl giggling. This was a woman. And a fascinating creature. The sunlight haloed her enchanting presence in a literary, literal, and lasting way. Boom. Instant attraction. The sunny sidewalk in the sleeping hamlet was now a place of perusal and interest.

Click.

He put his hand out to shake hers.

She was beautiful. Probably the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She had pale blonde hair in a sleepy ponytail down her back and big blue eyes surrounded by intense lashes. She was in a snug little pair of jeans, and a blue t-shirt dipped enough on the perfect temptation of those breasts she was sporting to make him interested in seeing what was under it. Likely, it was as beautiful and beguiling as that face based on the show already happening.

"I'm afraid you've got me at a loss here. You are?"

"Jill Valentine. I'm here as an ambassador for the B.S.A.A. Apparently, the President put out a call for the agencies in our mutual community to be present for his speech tonight."

Ah. And ahhhh, he thought with wry amusement. He gestured to the seat across from him. Because in about two seconds flat, he'd known he was going to ask her to join him.

She settled across from him and met his eyes. He swirled his drink in the glass, looking at her. She ordered a vodka, neat, and earned a grudging nod. No flashy girly beverages here. This woman knew what good liquor was.

The little college girl was still trying to get his attention, but she'd lost it altogether now. In a simple t-shirt and jeans, this woman had stolen all of it. Her face was killer, with perfect bone structure and a little cleft in her chin made for stroking with your thumb. It took him about three seconds to determine he was looking at the answer to what came next after the bioterrorism game was over. Maybe not her, not exactly, but this. Lunch in the sun with a beautiful woman. Sounded pretty fucking great.

"Ms. Valentine, I'm actually staggered that we've never met before. How often have we, almost literally, run parallel without coming face to face?"

Jill laughed, amused with him, "It's almost like the universe was trying to keep us apart."

"Without question. Why I wonder?"

Right off the top of her head, she was going to say it was because he looked like something you tried to chase around with your hands made into claws attempting to grab his ass. Handsome, she'd heard, what a crock of shit. He was a sex kabob in thousand-dollar boots. That sexy little half-smile on his face was probably what the little girls across the street were giggling about.

Jill said, "Presumably because the world couldn't contain both of us in the same space and time without imploding."

Leon laughed and sipped his scotch. "Presumably. Although let's be fair. The explosion is clearly happening on that side of the table."

"You think, huh?"

"Oh definitely. You're aware, I'm sure, what you look like."

Interested, she studied his face. Her vodka arrived and had a little lime wedge in it. She pulled it free and put it between her lips to suckle it.

Click. He watched her mouth. And his sexy little half-smile was a full smile now. He said, saluting her with his glass, "I rest my case."

"Mr. Kennedy, you're aware, I'm sure, that you have a certain….reputation amongst our profession."

"Do I? Enlighten me."

"You flirt with anything in a skirt. You are notorious for it."

"Ah. Yeah. That reputation. I do enjoy the company of beautiful women; this is true," He studied her again, and she liked it. She liked that intelligence on his face, "But you're not wearing a skirt, and I wasn't even aware we were flirting."

"We're not."

"Would you like to?"

And now she laughed a little, charmed. "Why not? Hit me with your best shot."

He considered and drummed fingers on the table. She held that look levelly while college kids laughed, shoved, and joked around them. He said, almost casually, "I've been in this town for three days."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm, yep. You're the first thing I've seen that makes me excited to be here."

Jill tilted her head, watching him. "Really? I heard they have a pretty great coffee house down the road. And this diner is said to have great chicken fried steak."

He sipped his scotch and gave her that smile again. "That's likely true. But I'm guessing neither tastes as good as you do."

She liked that. Casual. Sexy. And very direct. He watched her shift toward him a little. Click.

"I am one of a kind," Jill agreed, "It's true. But it's said you are as well."

"Hmm. I'm not anything but a guy having a scotch and a vodka with a legend."

"I think legend might be pushing it." She laughed now and sipped her drink.

"Possibly. I hear that you're deadly with a knife."

"That is actually true. But I hear the same about you."

"I do alright," Leon rolled the glass in his hand and sipped it, "I generally enjoy a nice rousing fight. Keeps the blood pumping."

"Oh, I agree," And she laughed again, "It's what keeps us in the game, right? The thrill of it. The rush. The risk."

"Without question," He took a long drag off the cigarette, "Hardly anything else in the world like it."

"Agreed. The rumors say you're the best in the world."

"Do they?" He leaned a little toward her, "Try me."

She lifted her brows at him. He held her look.

"Are you offering to fight me, Leon Kennedy?"

"Hmm. Maybe. Want to find out if the rumors are true?"

"Is there a woman alive that says no to that?"

"Probably."

"She's a fucking idiot."

He laughed and was a little enraptured by her.

She'd come to Tall Oaks pissed off. She didn't want to be here. She was often sidelined to shitty submissions while Chris ran around the world blowing shit up and kicking asses. He was a fucking mess, though, and usually drunk and on his face in random places. He'd resigned in January and was impossible to locate. He'd had a mission go wrong and lost all his men but one. He wasn't handling it well. She was trying to hold the B.S.A.A together in his absence, but it was wearing on her.

He'd been slated to sit in on the President's speech. Instead? She was here. She'd hated it the moment she arrived. It reminded her of Raccoon City. Same little shops, small-town feel, outdated décor, and the same survivors.

But she was rapidly learning to be very, very ok with that. She'd listen to Chris bitch about Leon Kennedy for years. They'd come up against each other in various ways in parallel fields. First, when Kennedy had been working for USSTRATCOM and often popping up in locations where viral outbreaks were rampant. And also at conferences, lectures, and coordinating events regarding anything about advancement in the bioterrorism community. Although there appeared to be grudging respect there, she always sensed underlying jealousy from her best friend in the world regarding the other man.

She'd blown it off as typical male cock measuring until now. Maybe this was why. Leon Kennedy was catnip for skanks, clearly. Even now, she could hear the little college girls giggling. He was cocky, sort of aloof, and had the goods to back it up. He was also charming, articulate, and a fantastic dresser. Fashion meets badass agent—the eternal enigma.

"Is it the face or the cocky attitude that usually gets you into the panties, Mr. Kennedy?"

Leon laughed, shrugging a little. "I'd hazard a guess it's both."

"Hmm. I'm afraid I'm not a simpering little college girl, so you might be wasting your time coming on so strong."

"Might?"

"I haven't decided entirely yet. Which we will blame entirely on your face."

"Oh yeah?"

"It's a fucking killer face." She sipped the vodka and laughed a little.

"Here, I was just thinking the same thing."

"It's a little narcissistic to think about your own face that much, Leon Kennedy."

And he knew he kind of liked her a lot. She was gorgeous, but that wasn't it. It was this casual grace and her sense of humor that did it. You liked the face, you wanted the face, but it wasn't what would keep you. It was what was behind that face.

That was the real killer here.

She didn't need a knife to kill you. She slew just by opening her mouth.

"So maybe we take a walk, and we both think about your face instead."

Jill tilted her head at him, "Interesting. Why are we both thinking about my face?"

He gauged her interest and took a shot. "You kidding? It's a Botticelli painting. Mine? A dime a dozen."

Oh. She held his eyes now. And he watched it happen. He watched the moment it rolled behind her eyes. And she lifted her mouth in a smile.

"Clever boy."

"Hmm. That's what they tell me."

They sipped their drinks, watching each other. She liked it. He liked it. It was casual and sexy and simple. It was a good day. Hard to imagine it not being a good day.

Jill rose and tossed some money on the table. "Let's take a walk, Leon Kennedy."

And so they did. They walked around that sleepy little hamlet. They walked around talking. They walked around laughing. They'd literally been in Raccoon City at the same time all those years ago. Sure, he was under the city, and she above it, but they'd been there. They'd survived it. And they have never met.

They'd both run around the world for years fighting the results of that awful night. And they'd never met. They worked in nearly identical fields and crossed within inches of each other a thousand times. And they'd never met.

But here they were, hanging out in a small town in middle America, having a fantastic cup of coffee and enjoying each other. Jill owed Chris an apology for all the filthy names she'd been calling him lately. He'd done her a favor by flaking out on coming to the university for the speech.

"You're telling me," He said conversationally as they toured the little botanical gardens at the edge of the square, "that you have never once done it?"

"Nope. Never. Not once."

"Well…we're doing it."

"What?"

"We're doing it right now, Jill Valentine."

"Noooo. You're insane. Now?"

"Oh yeah. Now." And he grabbed her hand. She laughed as they ran across the small street and ducked between two buildings. She was still laughing as he forced her to keep time with him and dragged her to the bridge that crossed the little river that snaked through the town and kept the sewers beneath so disgusting and moist.

"I can't do it!" She cried as he forced her to the end of the bridge, "I'll pee myself!"

"Oh, you're doing it!"

And ten minutes later, they were doing it alright. But it wasn't naked and sweaty. It was sweaty, yes it was, but it wasn't naked. They were crushed together, this was true, but they were upside down and bobbing crazily above the water while they did it. And so, Leon Kennedy became the first man to go bungee jumping with Jill Valentine.

And she shouted, "This is either the most awful feeling I've ever had or the most awesome!"

He laughed and made her lose her breath, laughing at how ridiculous he looked with his iconic hair sticking straight up…or hanging straight down…whichever. "Right?" He studied her face from so close, "But kinda great."

"Yeah…it's kinda great." She meant his face. But the bungee jumping was quite great too.

Aloof, she speculated, not exactly. Yes and no. He was both. He was aloof and cocky and hilarious. He was all good humor. He'd done nothing but made her laugh in the last few hours. He was...something else. She wasn't sure what that was quite yet, but she was curious to find out.

She laughed now, holding on to him, "What now?"

"Well…we might want to be right side up soon before our heads explode from the blood rush."

"An interesting image. Do you have blood rushing to your head, Leon Kennedy?"

She met his eyes and started laughing. His sardonic expression was pretty great too. She wiggled a little. "Which head?" He speculated and had her laughing.

She wiggled again.

"Whoa…whoa. Whatcha doin there?"

"Seeing if you have blood rushing to other places."

"We can safely say the answer is yes. Yes. Yes, I do."

She was laughing. She was still laughing when he kissed her. She wasn't laughing anymore when her hands came up and held his face. It was, officially, the best non-date ever. And the first time a man had ever kissed her upside down. So bonus.

They walked back toward the campus together, and she thought…fuck it. And slid her hand into his. He didn't just take it; nope, he slid their fingers together.

Click.

As they walked and people milled around him, she said, "Where did you come from?"

"Connecticut. Originally."

And now she turned, and she looked at his face. Aloof. No. Not even a little. She'd heard that about him. That he was funny, she hadn't had any idea how funny.

"Oh yeah?"

"Before that? I think I was a zygote. Maybe. But those memories get a little cloudy."

"You're a funny guy, Leon Kennedy."

"So they tell me. However, it's hit or miss. Some people don't get my humor."

"Some people don't get the purpose of a good pun either." She grabbed two handfuls of the black shirt he was wearing and pushed him into the alley beside the college. He grunted as she shoved him against the wall there, "Some people are stupid."

"Agreed."

"Are we on a date?"

"We might be. You wanna find out?" He was laughing as she went up on her tiptoes. And then his arms moved, looped around her, and pulled her off the ground. Her feet dangled, and her head went POP! It was hanging upside down again, but the blood rush killed her where she slumped this time.

"...why not?"

And so, Jill Valentine found herself kissing Leon Kennedy in an alleyway near the university where she'd come to listen to the president give a speech about bioterrorism. It was an odd day even for her. And the best day ever.

Objectively.

Why had they never met before? And why now? Did it really matter? No. But slid her hands all over that perfect chest anyway and got a long, long kiss for her efforts.

Where had she come from? This woman that told him all about herself and seemed to enjoy his company. She made him laugh, she stole his breath, and she rocked his world. His safe, comfortable, sometimes incredibly dull world. Was this what life looked like when you put down the sword?

It was a good picture; that was for damn sure.

They ended up at one of the little shops in town. She watched him dress; she circled her finger to show himself off. Amused, enthralled, and crazy about her, he did it. He tried on everything she picked and showed it off. He lifted his shirt to show his ass off when instructed and laughed when she nodded.

And he let her buy it all. It didn't matter to him, but it did to her. So why not?

He left in a black button-down silk shirt and a leather motorcycle jacket that she made a growl at when he'd come out of the dressing room. She made some kind of purr in her throat and had him laughing. They walked through the town that was overrun now, with tens of thousands of people excited to see the President. She had her arm tucked under the jacket and around his waist. His arm was looped over her shoulders.

He realized as they walked that he hadn't been this happy in a long time. Maybe ever. Maybe ever. She was talking about the impossibility of Silent Hill happening. She was adamant about it. She was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. He turned her into his body while she talked and cupped her face.

Jill was saying, "So it's impossible that you could jump between space and time like that. Clearly."

"Hmm. Like zombies?"

"I knew you'd go there."

He nodded sagely and remarked, "You're a big nerd."

"….I take offense to that. Mildly."

"Don't. Not even a little bit." He kissed her in the middle of the street. Why not? When was the last time either of them had just stopped and existed?

He drew back, and she did too. He said, "Come to the speech tonight."

"Well, that's kinda what I'm here for. So I think I will."

He laughed but shook his head. "No. Come there as my guest. Come sit at the big table with me during the banquet."

"….oh. You want me to show up as your date?"

"Yeah. I do. Yeah, I do. What do you say?"

"Absolutely. Why not? Sure everyone amongst the two organizations will wag tongues and tell everyone else. But who cares? I can't think of anything I'd like more."

Just like that. No strings. No drama. She just said yes. She just made him feel like he'd gotten a yes from the prom queen. Who was this girl?

"Awesome. I think something really great is going to happen tonight. I can feel it." He sounded so happy about it. She'd heard he flashed hot and cold, but he was just...content. He had faith that the world was about to change. She'd survived things with no name that she still had nightmares about. She was happy to just believe for a moment.

"Me too! I have a good feeling about this speech and the whole thing. It's gonna be good for the whole bioterrorism community."

"Maybe." He looked pensive for a moment, "But you and me? That is the best thing happening in Tall Oaks, hands down."

Jill grinned and was sorry to have to say goodbye. But they still had to work. It still had to be done. Unless they were ready to retire and live a quiet life away from the battle. Neither of them had reached that point yet.

"Agreed. I'll miss you, Leon Kennedy."

He laughed and turned back to her to wink. "I started missing you the second you let go, gorgeous. Wear something beautiful for me tonight."

She gave him a shrug. "Why not?"

"Why not indeed. See ya later, Jill Valentine."

"Mr. Kennedy."

There was hope here in this pretty little town. Hope. When was the last time they'd felt it? Whatever demons they carried, they let them go - for just a moment- while putting all their eggs in that one basket of change.

And simply enjoyed each other.