- Leon Kennedy Vs. The Giant Fish!?-

Tall Oaks

Leon shifted, climbing along the bony yet slimy skin of the thing with Jill Valentine in its mouth. It was a shark but wasn't. It was bony, scaly, slimy. The pectoral fins were huge, massive, and muscled with tips that resembled a bat's wing. The cartilage stretched over the fins and gave it the power to push and fly through the water like a bullet.

Leon mounted it, holding on amidst the rushing water, the rolling ride, and the sweeping slap of those enormous fins. His hands pulled, his body lunged, and his leg brushed something sharp and metal. Trying to survive what felt like a thousand years and was, literally, a handful of moments…he grabbed the metal thing and jerked it clear of that scaly hide. It spilled red blood around him as he hefted it. It was a harpoon. A harpoon. Someone had harpooned the son of a bitch, and it was still alive.

Grasping it, hating the chances of surviving something that had outlived a harpoon, Leon reached the massive jaws of the thing. Jill was clutched in them. She was dangling. She was just…dangling. He couldn't tell where it had impaled her on its teeth if it had impaled her. Or if it was just holding on to her to take her back to its…nest? And eat her.

It didn't matter. Lean reared back and drove the fucking harpoon right into its beady eye.

It roared. There was no other word. It opened its mouth and screamed. Jill floated free, and Leon grasped her to him, jerked the harpoon free of the gushing eye, braced himself on the gaping jaws that wanted to devour him…and jabbed the harpoon right into its diving maw. It hit the roof of its mouth and burst free from the top of its blubbery head. The water was so thick with blood now it was impossible to see.

They were surrounded by infected blood. And Leon's lungs were telling him if he didn't breathe soon, he would drop dead. But Jill was moving in his arms. She was moving. She jerked the harpoon free while the beast roared in denial, Leon kicked it square in the snout, and she drove the harpoon into one gaping nostril.

That was it. It was done playing around. It hit her broadside with its pectoral fin, and she spun into the bloody water. Leon kicked it in the snout again, and they burst free of the watery ride they'd been on. They were suspended in mid-air for one shining moment, and the thing smacked him with its fin. He went out, out, out – he flew through the air like a dart. He managed to angle himself down and dive smoothly into the waiting water as he hit.

It closed around him, comforting and warm somehow, and Leon boobed down and popped up like a cork, gasping. "JILL!?"

"LEON!"

He glanced up at her voice. She was climbing to her feet on a bridge high above him. Apparently, she'd been tossed there during their terrifying ride with the nasty beast. The good news was that she was ok. The bad news? He was in the water…with Jaws' nastier, bigger, meaner brother.

Jill hurried across the bridge while he swam toward the farthest outcropping. She called down to him. "Are you alright?!"

"Well…" He was breathing hard and fast, freestyling it while he moved, "Define alright? I'm not dead! I am, however, in the goddamn water with this thing…so I have been better! I am also never eating fish again. Just for the record!"

Jill laughed a little, and then she stopped laughing. She shouted, and her voice was terrified, "Oh god! Oh god! Leon! Faster!"

She didn't have to say it twice. Seriously. He heard it. He felt it. The water shoved him forward as it burst free about fifty yards behind him. It spewed blood, geysered water, and had something exploding out of its massive jaws that looked like the legs of a cockroach or the yellow and black and orange tentacles of an octopus…or something that would crush you while you screamed.

And he was officially swimming faster than he had in high school, trying to get the State championship. He was swimming so fast that he was pretty sure Michael Phelps was jealous. If there was an official for the Olympics close by, he was a shoo-in for the American team. As an amendment to his earlier statement of never eating fish, he was always never, ever, ever going swimming again. Ever. Or spelunking. Or caving. The list was ongoing.

He felt the heat of it too close behind him. He waited to die…and there was a boom of sound. It roared. It tossed its head, whipped around, and retreated into the water. Jill was kneeling on the bridge with his sniper rifle on her shoulder.

He officially felt like he might be nuts for her.

He had to double-check when he wasn't half dead with fear and fatigue…but it was feeling like a major crush to him.

He kept on swimming. He heard it rise again. Jill shouted, "You slimy bastard! I'll turn you into tuna!"

That might have been funny if he was about to become the tuna himself.

It got too close; it reared to kill him – she blasted it with the rifle. It roared and retreated. Oh, yeah, he was crushin on that woman.

He shouted to her as he swam, "It's trying to eat my ass!"

Jill's answer, somehow, made him laugh as he swam like a madman, "God damn shark…I didn't even get a piece of it yet!"

He was almost there and knew Jill had lost her angle on him. Naturally. Of course. And the big nasty was right there. Right there. It reared, roared, and he felt it drive down to swallow him up. The breath smelled like sulfur and rotting meat and tuna. How did it smell like tuna?!

There was a boom. It was loud. It was so close.

He rolled to his back and saw Ben and Helena standing on the landing. Helena fired into the big nasty until it roared and swam away, spilling blood from its angry mouth. Leon reached the ledge, and Ben and Helena pulled him up.

They were up against a wrought-iron grate. It was blocking the only way out.

Leon coughed and gasped, relearning how to breathe, and Ben hugged him close, shaking. On his knees, Leon held on to him for a long moment. "What a hero. That's twice you've saved me."

Ben sniffled a little against his neck.

He glanced up at Helena, "Thank you."

She smiled a little and went to check the gate.

There was a thump of sound, and Jill joined them. Leon rose with Ben stuck to his soaking leg. Jill's leg was a bloody mess. It had bled down into her boot. One of those nasty teeth had scraped the outside of her thigh and partially punctured it.

She tossed him the sniper rifle. He caught it, still breathing hard. "Nice shootin, Valentine. Redfield teach you that?"

Amused, Jill smirked, "Nope. That was all me, Kennedy. Let's hear it for the Delta Force."

Helena kicked the gate. "This thing is wedged shut, man. What now?"

The answer rose from the water with an ear-splitting roar. It launched its massive body at them and had them scattering. Leon grabbed Ben against his front and dove left. The nasty shark hit the grate, broke the whole fucking wall with it…and sent them reeling down the tunnel beyond.

The water slide of death continued. They were ripped and pulled, shoved and jerked, rushed and rolled. He held on to Ben while they went, feeling the water in his eyes, nose, and lungs. And the shark came down the tunnel toward them in the gushing, rushing, blasting race of water that propelled them along with tremendous and crushing force.

Ben never let go. He kept on holding on. Jill rolled toward them. She grabbed at his thigh. Leon shook his head and passed her Ben. She took him, and the water took them both. It shoved them away from him while she called his name.

Lost, forsaken, Leon rolled to his back. The shark rose above him, roaring. He grabbed the Magnum in his thigh holster Jill had been reaching for. It leveraged over him, trumpeting its cry for blood to the tunnel. He waited until it was right on him and shot it in that gaping mouth, point-blank. He unloaded the rest of the mag into it. It blossomed with blood. It wailed. And Leon grabbed the harpoon still lodged in its face and jerked it free.

He rolled, tossed in the water, and speared it with the harpoon as he came down. It went straight into the blubbery top of its head. It burst with blood; it made a sound like a balloon popping. And it hit him with its massive fin and threw him out.

Leon tried to stop it, but it didn't matter. Too late, he saw it coming. He hit the tunnel wall, felt the rock smash into his temple, and the world went black.

He came awake gasping. Jill rolled him to his side, and he vomited water on the dirty ground. Ben was crying. Helena was on her hands and knees, breathing.

And they were outside. They were outside.

They were outside of the goddamn crypt.

The shark's corpse floated in pieces in the water they'd left behind. Leon, head spinning, gasped, "Wha…?"

And Jill whispered, "Ben…it was Ben. There were barrels of fucking TNT in the debris. From the mine, I guess from the mess. It just…it got one in its mouth. It tried to eat you while you were unconscious…and Ben just…shot the barrel."

Leon rolled his head, lungs aching, body quaking. He gasped and wheezed. "You shoot the red barrel, pal?"

"…I did." Ben was crying silently now. "I did. Just like a video game. Just like that. Boom."

Leon gagged a little and spit up more water. Weak, he collapsed to the side, and Jill caught him to turn him into her body. He let her hold him for a moment. "Yeah…brilliant kid. Boom."

There was a loud whoosh of sound above them. The predawn sky was pink and purple; puffy clouds soared around in a gray and white tableau of perfection. Orange and gold had started to peak between the twilight to offer the viewer the idea of the coming day. And the planes that whisked through the cool dawn air were fast and deadly.

They could do nothing but watch as the bombs fell and the fire erupted…and Tall Oaks became nothing more than a crater of catastrophe where they'd once laughed, and Bungie jumped and walked hand in hand through the sleepy little streets.

Jill clutched him to her, heaving out shallow breaths. He rose to his knees and tried to see how hard they could cling to the other. Ben wedged between them and kept holding on. With a bit of sound, Helena joined the circle of hugging.

It was a good moment. It was a horrid moment. It was the moment they wondered if they were the only people to have made it out of Tall Oaks alive. And it bound them in a way that had no name. It made them family, on the one hand, and friends. At the very least, they were outcasts now. They were fugitives. They had no one they could trust.

They were on their own.

His communicator beeped, surprising him. Apparently, it was waterproof. He pulled it free, and Hunnigan's face emerged. She looked harried, she looked afraid, and she looked pissed. Leon doubted she liked having the National Security Advisor breathing down her neck.

She said softly, "Oh, thank god. Thank god. You're alright?"

"We're not dead." Leon shifted a little, "Where is Simmons? You need to stop him. Find him and put his ass in cuffs, now."

"I can't! He lit out of here like a man possessed. I can't arrest him, Leon. I've got nothing but speculation at this point. And worse yet? He just set you guys up as the fall guys. It's your word versus his…you'll lose, and he'll go free. We need proof."

"Where the fuck did he go?"

"China. I put a tail on him. He's readying his jet now. He'll be leaving soon."

Leon glanced at Jill. He looked down at Ben. And he turned his eyes to Helena. "Can you get me a flight into China?"

"Yeah. I can...but you should look at this first." She uploaded data to his device. He flipped through it. Jill and Helena moved to stand with him. And Jill grabbed his arm.

She gasped, "Leon…Leon….this is what Chris faced in Edonia. This is what drove him insane. It cost him all his men."

Hunnigan was nodding. "Yeah. Yeah. The B.S.A.A. confirms it as the C-Virus. And it's loose. My guess? Simmons is taking it to China."

Helena whispered, "We've seen those pods here. This was here. He released it here. Why?"

Leon shook his head. He paced. He shot a hand through his wet hair. And then he looked at Jill. He held her eyes and said, "Hunnigan…I need you to fake our deaths. Can you do that?"

Hunnigan was quiet. Helena made a sound. Jill kept holding his gaze, no flinching, no blinking. Finally…she nodded.

Hunnigan answered softly, "Of course. But they'll see through it eventually. What's the plan here, Leon?"

"Stop Simmons. To do that? He needs to think he's won. Get me whatever we have on the B.S.A.A. in Edonia. Locate Chris Redfield discreetly. If you can't pull him, get eyes on him. And get us a flight into China."

Hunnigan nodded, typing on her keyboard. "Ok. Listen, I've got a safe house for you in Whispering Pines. It's a mile east of your location. It's out of the way and quiet. A hunting cabin used by the D.S.O for staff get-togethers when the President was visiting Tall Oaks. It's big but rustic. Adam…liked it that way."

She looked so sad. Leon nodded and felt his chest tighten. "Yeah, he did. He used it all the time. I know where it is. Hunnigan, keep it together, ok? And thank you…for trusting me."

"Are you kidding? We've seen some shit, you and I. I'd trust you over my husband, Leon, and that's saying something. Get to the cabin, sleep, and get some food in you. I had it stocked with supplies before things went to shit. So, you're good to go."

Leon laughed a little now, shaking his head. "You're a goddess, Ingrid. What would I do without you?"

"Tramp around soaked to the bone and ugly, no doubt. Be safe. I'll contact you when I have your plane." She disconnected.

Leon paced away from them. He put his hands in his wet hair. And he didn't look perfect anymore...he looked tired. His iconic hair was plastered to his face. He looked like he'd just survived a nightmare. How did it end? Did they even know the answer to that?

He watched the fire roar in the distance. It swirled and slapped the sky with fingers that blazed and burned away the clouds around the destruction. Was anyone alive in there? Were they holding their dead in their arms and screaming? Were they bleeding on the ground and burning? Jesus.

He put his face in his hands and drew a long, shaky, painful breath. This is how the world ended, he thought madly, in fire and blood. How did they fix it? How did they stop it? How did they set it right?

What happened if evil won? What did the world look like when no one was left to fight for it? How did he stop a man with the entire U.S. government backing him? He couldn't protect anyone. He couldn't prove anything. He was just one man. Why was he always just one man?

A hand lay between his shoulder blades. Soft but steady. And that a straightforward touch grounded him before his mind could make him insane with hopelessness and loss. She could feel him shaking, and it broke her heart. Behind him, but still, with him, she whispered, "Not now. Not yet."

It seems he'd forgotten. He wasn't just one man. This time? He wasn't alone.

That's what had happened while he'd been trying to stay alive. He wasn't alone anymore. He turned, and Jill fisted his shirt. Her look was direct and strong. It soothed him, "Now isn't time to fall apart. Soon. Not now. Stay with me, Leon. Stay with me now. Say it."

And he did. He whispered it back to her, eyes closed and holding on. "I'm with you."

"Yeah, you are. Good man."

And all too soon, it was time to get moving again.

They didn't say anything. What could they say? They moved over the wet ground and made their way through the peaceful little forest to the cabin. It was a short walk, considering what they'd gone through to get there.

Ben was asleep in his arms before they ever reached the cabin. He slept boneless and soft. He slept, as children often do, without panic or remorse. He lay with his head on Leon's shoulder, his mouth agape, his snoring around them like music.

Jill covered them as they walked, holding her pistol loose in her hands. Helena had lost all her weapons somewhere in the mad rush to safety. Between them, only the Magnum and one pistol remained. But there was no more danger. The danger had died in Tall Oaks…with the president.

Jill and Helena held hands as the long walk dragged on. It was a circle of people just trying to stay together. It was a circle of people who were, now officially, dead.

Helena spoke, finally, as they came upon the cabin. However, cabin was a modest word. As it was used for the President of the United States, it was palatial. It was grand. It was a mansion made of timber. It was enormous and sprawling and had windows glittered in the rising sun from floor to ceiling. "I need forty million hours of sleep and food. Desperately."

They nodded in response to her and agreement.

Jill laughed a little as they moved down the circular drive. "Cabin, huh? Rustic, she said."

Leon smirked a little. "For Adam? It's rustic. It's downright spartan."

She glanced at his face as he keyed them in. Helena moved passed him into the cabin the moment the door was open. "You're a Kennedy. Is this what a cabin looks like to the Kennedys?"

Leon lifted the corner of his mouth in a small smile. "Nah. This is a hole in the wall to the Kennedys."

Jill laughed as she followed him in.

The inside was even better than the outside. It was bearskin rugs and hand-carved tables. It was top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances in a gourmet kitchen. Italian leather sofas and hunting heads hung in the enormous living room with its massive fireplace. Stags were watching them and huge bucks. Jill shuddered under their beady dead eyes.

A beautiful piano sat forlornly to the far side of the massive sitting room. It was black, beautiful, and a Steinway Grand. It looked like no one had played it in a long time. Her fingers itched, telling her she should. She should sit on the bench and let the ivory love her delicate stroking.

Leon closed the door and drew her attention back to him. She met his eyes as he locked the door and secured it with the passcode.

"Let me take him, Leon. I'm going to bathe him and put him down."

He shook his head, smiling a little. "You go get in a shower and treat that leg. I got him."

Her belly shivered. He wanted to take care of the little boy that snored on his shoulder. He wanted to give him a bath and put him to bed. Did he see what she saw? Children don't like me, he'd said. A defense mechanism for a man who'd never stopped to consider what life looked like when you stopped fighting.

I see you, Leon Kennedy, she thought with a roll of warmth; I see the love in you.

Leon shifted Ben in his arms and moved into the big bathroom to the far side. The little boy was groggy but awake. He sat him down on the toilet seat and set up a bath for him. The warm moist arm swirled around them as Leon took the grungy jacket from him and started to throw it away.

Ben grabbed it, shaking his head. "No. Please?"

Touched, Leon hung the filthy jacket on the back of the door instead. They stripped the little boy to his grimy skin and poked him in with bubbles and a smile. He sighed, perking up at the first touch of it on his feet and toes.

Leon washed his hair while Ben scrubbed his toes and knees. Ben just...he talked. He talked about the time he saw a pony and when he touched a frog as big as his hand. He spoke about his favorite color (blue) and how he had eleven shirts in different shades of it. He talked about how he liked dogs and had always wanted one, but his mom said no way.

"Did you have a dog?"

Leon speared fingers through his hair and laughed a little while perched on the toilet seat, flipping through data on his phone. "Nope. No dog either. My Mom said dogs were stupid and told me to go away when I asked."

Ben shook his head sagely. "Your Mom sounds mean."

Leon glanced at him as the little boy soaped his belly. He considered the wise nature of a five-year-old boy. The kid knew shit, no lie there. "She was. She was a bad Mom. I bet your Mom was a good Mom."

Ben made a little sound and sniffled. "She was a good Mom. Is it ok to cry when I miss her?"

Misty eyed for him; Leon rubbed his neck a little. "I think that's ok, pal. We're supposed to miss people we love."

"I hope she died before the big boom. So it didn't hurt."

Yeah. The kid knew shit...no lie.

"Me too, buddy."

Ben sniffled again and wiped his cheeks. Leon picked him up and wrapped him in a towel, briskly drying him off. When he was all bundled up, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Leon's neck. He sniffled into his shoulder.

Undone, Leon snuggled him close in the big brown towel.

Ben queried, "You think Jill will be a good Mom?"

Jill was standing outside the door, against the wall, one hand to her mouth to hold her silence.

Leon laughed a little. "I think Jill was made to be a Mom. You like her?"

"She's nice. And she's funny. If she can bake a pie, I think she'll be ok."

"A wise man." Leon picked him up and held him close for a minute. "Let's get you into bed, big hero. Even Batman needs sleep."

Ben yawned against his neck. "I don't want to sleep alone."

"...you won't be alone. I won't leave you, Ben. I promise."

"I know you won't. I didn't leave you either. Member dat? Even after it tried to eat you. I lied. I said I would. I didn't. I'm a bad hero. Don't be mad."

His heart. His formerly shriveled heart. It ached. And he didn't think it could hold anymore in it. Like the goddamn Grinch - it had grown three sizes. It was full of a girl with bad jokes and a boy with curly hair. It was full.

Leon kissed his temple, holding on to him. A little boy had managed to do what others had been failing at for fifteen fucking years: he'd killed Leon Kennedy. He'd opened him up and killed him where he stood. Not with guns or knives or pain...with love. It fairly destroyed him to feel it.

And he wondered how he'd ever gone a day without it.

"I'm not mad, Ben. I'm not mad at you. But I wouldn't risk you for anything on Earth. Anything. Not even me."

And the boy answered, "But I'm just Ben. Just Ben. I'm not a hero. There's only one Leon. What happens to us if you die? We can't make it wif-out you. I can't protect two girls. I'm not big enough."

Leon curled around him now, giving up. He just...he gave up. He stood in the bathroom with that little boy held against him and rocked. And he just didn't have the words anymore. He couldn't find them. Ben had stolen them...along with his heart. But he whispered, "You're my hero, buddy. You're mine."

And the woman in the hallway agreed.

Jill, sensing the right time to retreat, went up the first set of stairs she came to. Her heart was pounding so hard. The little boy...he wanted love. Did the man holding him see what she saw? Did he see himself reflected in that lost little boy? Did he know what she knew? That they were made for each other? Ben needed Leon Kennedy...and Leon needed that boy.

She heard Helena in the shower somewhere down the hallway. Jill chose the first bedroom she came to and stepped in.

It was enormous. It was the master. It had a vast king-sized bed in shades of blue and hunter green. It had a dozen pillows plumped and tossed on it in various shades from brown to blue. The rug she crossed was Persian and would likely be soft under her bare feet. It looked like a cloud. It probably felt like a cloud too.

A wet bar sat to one side, stocked with expensive liquor and surrounded by a shiny mahogany top and fancy, filigreed-backed stools. She could see herself fixing a drink at the bar before she racked out. The whole wall behind the bar was a mirror.

The bathroom was blue, powder blue. It was a woman's touch. The first lady was all over the bathroom. She dropped filthy clothes on the bathroom floor. The dress peeled off with a slurping sound. The boots clunked onto the pretty pale blue tile beneath her.

The shower was all iron gray slate. It was a huge waterfall head that spilled moist, beautiful water down and from sprayers in the walls. She climbed in; she used the expensive soap in the alcove. It smelled like lavender and English saddle soap.

She checked her leg as she washed. The puncture was already healing. That was the thing about her; it had always been the thing about her; she healed. Since Raccoon City…she was always healing. Fast. She healed fast.

The leg was pink and scarring. She'd scar. She was always scarred. But the bleeding was done. Already. Jill slid out of the shower and toweled herself off. She wrapped it around her body and moved into the bedroom.

There was a soft blue nightgown lying on the bed. Someone had put it there for her. Touched, she shifted and dropped the towel. She slipped on the cotton, which settled like silk over her skin. It was spaghetti strings and lace and shimmery blue.

Jill toweled her streaming blonde hair dry and padded barefoot over the beautiful rug. It was, indeed, soft as a cloud. She moved down the hallway and listened to the voices. Low and gruff, quiet and female, and laughter.

She paused, listening. She couldn't hear them, not exactly, but she could hear the tone. The tone was good. It was good to hear Helena laughing. She didn't think the other woman would be able to find joy when she stopped and thought about Debra. Helena was a survivor. She was going to make it. It was a good feeling to know it.

And her heart...her heart...it just...beat for him. Here was a man that could make a girl laugh on the worst day of her life. He was a man that found humor in the horrid and hope when there was nothing but desolation. He didn't let you dwell, didn't let you die, and didn't let you down. He was making that girl laugh in that room on the day they lost their reputations, their families, and lost their lives...essentially. He was Leon Kennedy.

She'd known him for three days.

She'd been looking for him all her life.