-Necromancy-

Lanshiang, China

He put his face against her neck and trembled.

Leon whispered, on a broken sound, "...you have to get up, Jill. Now. Please...please get up. I can't do this without you. Get up, ok? Please? Just breathe. Just wake up. Please..."

And Ben shouted at her once more, "YOU GET UP, JILL! YOU GET UP! NOW!"

He was so small. He sounded so scared. Leon started to let her go.

And she scared the piss out of him.

"…I will if you'll stop screaming at me."

Ben burst into tears and startled them all. A child's final breaking point. Helena scooped him against her leg while holding her place on the lookout.

And Jill whispered, "...why is everyone just sitting around?"

For a moment, he was pretty sure he'd imagined it. He'd likely stepped out of reality so far that he was hallucinating her. Maybe she was haunting him. Maybe she was a ghost on his shoulder haunting him.

But then she lifted her hand and cupped the back of his head.

And he thought maybe she'd turned and she was a zombie…and maybe she was going to eat him…and maybe he didn't care anymore.

She whispered, "Why are you covered in blood, Kennedy?"

And he died.

He was pretty sure he had died. Was he dead?

Jill felt dead. She felt pretty dead. She was cold, and her mind was trying to put her to sleep to deal with whatever had happened to her. Her head was heavy, and her hands were heavy…and sticky. She was sticky. She lifted her hand to look at it and realized it was all bloody. She was bloody. He was bloody.

He was bloody and holding her.

And she could hear Ben weeping.

Helena whispered, "Oh my god. It worked!"

What worked?

Ben was wiping his bloody cheeks. He said, "I stood guard. I did dat. I p'otected you."

And Helena was crying now. She was crying. She was laughing a little. She said, "He wouldn't give up. He wouldn't give up. He said you'd heal it if we just kept you breathing. If we just kept your body alive…he said you'd heal it. I thought he was crazy. I thought he'd finally snapped. I was afraid I'd have to shoot him to get him moving. Oh my god...you're alive."

Oh, my god, Jill thought madly, she'd died. Did she die?

She'd died.

And he wouldn't let her stay dead.

He wouldn't let her stay dead. He'd brought her back from the dead.

It was official: Leon Kennedy was a god. He saved lives. He fought monsters. He climbed buildings. He could bring back the dead.

And he never gave up.

Ben was watching her desperately, and she smiled at him shakingly, "I'm ok, buddy. I'm ok. You did so good. I'm so proud of you."

Leon said nothing. She was half-convinced he was the dead one. He simply knelt there, holding on. She gripped handfuls of his vest at his back and felt the tremble down his spine that told her he was alive.

Jill whispered, "You big liar…you said to leave you behind…but you didn't. You didn't leave me behind. You big fat liar."

He hadn't said a word. He hadn't made a sound. He was still clinging to her. He was still holding her against him like she'd die again if he let go. She curled her arms around him and clung.

"….you big liar…you wouldn't let me go."

Jesus Christ.

She stroked his hair. She held on. She couldn't believe what kind of faith it took for a man to kneel in her blood and bring her back from the dead. She didn't deserve him. She'd never deserve him.

She was so in love with him it was insane.

So, she whispered, "Leon?"

He made a sound against her neck to acknowledge her. He still wouldn't let go. He just…wouldn't let her go. He didn't know how to let her go.

Jill stroked his hair softly and intoned, "…you stink."

He leaned back now to look into her face.

She was so pale. She was so beautiful. And she said, softly, "You do. Yeah. You stink. It's not good. It's pretty bad, actually."

He blinked at her. He had blood smeared all over his face. His hair stuck up in front from it. He looked…fucking awful. Terrible. His face was etched with such terrible grief. Her heart stuttered, looking at him.

Her heart…beat for him. He'd made sure of that.

So, she smiled…just a little…and added, "Yeah. You smell like burning hair and shit. It's putrid. It's terrible."

He blinked again at her. "I stink?"

"Yeah. Pretty bad."

Another blink. Those eyes, she thought, were beautiful in the bloody face; gray and blue and beautiful. "And you look terrible. Maybe I should trade you in for a younger model."

His face crumbled. It just…it just crumbled. She shifted her weak hands and grabbed it, holding on. She was desperate now. Desperate. Her trembling voice was urgent, earnest, and raw, "Don't. Don't, please. Not yet. Not now. Later…later…but not now. Please. I won't be able to get up if you break. Don't. Just for a little longer."

He was shaking so badly she thought he'd throw her off his lap from it. She'd been trying to make him laugh. Instead? Her horrible jokes had broken him. He would turn into a puddle and sob like a baby all over her.

She couldn't have it. If he did, she would too, and they'd never get out of the puddle of blood around them.

She was so weak. It was bad. It was scary bad. She fed off his strength like a vampire; if he lost it -

She pulled his face down to press their foreheads together. She whispered, "Help me up. Please. I need you to help me up. I'm sorry for it. It's awful. It's so unfair. You've been so strong. You've been so strong for me. I need you to keep being strong for me. So, I can be strong for you. Please."

He made a slight sound of grief and broke her heart. She urged quietly, "Not yet."

And he whispered back, finally, "Not yet."

His eyes opened, clear. Misty. But clear. He held her tired ones with his. "I'm going to destroy Derek Simmons with my bare hands. I'm going to watch the light leave his eyes while he dies. I hope he fights. I hope he shits himself. Because I'm going to piss on his corpse when he's dead."

Jill believed him. Lying there in her that puddle of blood, she believed him. She laughed a little, head swimming. "I know you will. I believe you. Help me up. Please. We need to hurry. Let's hurry."

He pulled her up. She made a slight sound of pain as he settled her in his arms. And she whispered, "Take it easy on me; I've been mostly dead all day."

Leon went so still, holding her. He just...went still. He turned her into his body and breathed her in. He laughed quietly against her and whispered, "Did you just reference The Princess Bride? You wonderful, beautiful, brilliant thing. Jill...stop trying to leave me."

She lifted her hand to give him a weak thumbs up, which made him laugh and shifted her in his arms. With Helena and Ben covering, they moved slowly through the open-air market. His mind was racing.

She was too weak. She was too wounded. How did she go on? He needed to get her medi-evaced as soon as possible. But how? If she heard him alert Hunnigan to her condition, she'd kick his ass...weak or not.

They reached a door on the far side of the market easily enough. It was bound and secured by three heavy locks. Piles of rotting carcasses from boar to bovine lined the filthy streets. Flies had taken up residence with their maggoty cohorts in the exposed and glistening cavities. Naked tissue, muscle, and cartilage laced with glimpses of spine and rib were as far as the eye could see. A tableau of death marked their journey; offering overturned carts and stalls and raided wares where the empty shops remained.

This place had been cleaned out; no lie there. The infection in the city was rampant. He needed to get Jill and Ben to safety. Soon. He needed Barry Burton for that.

Helena said softly, "You want to wait here with her for a minute? I'll take Ben and see if we can turn up the keys to open this damn door."

Jill turned her head on her shoulders. She had dark circles under her dull eyes. The blonde of her hair on her nearly translucent pale skin seemed ethereal. She was a ghost in a way…wasn't she? She'd risen from the dead after all.

She wasn't just that.

She was also the master of unlocking.

She said, "Put me down, Leon. Let me see it."

He didn't want to put her down. He didn't want to let go of her. He was afraid if he did, she'd slip away. She rolled her eyes to his face and reiterated softly, "It's ok. Put me down. I'm alright now."

Leon set her on her feet, steadying her with both hands on her arms. "Give me a minute. Ok? Maybe you could...find some water and rinse your hair a little."

He got the feeling she was saying his hair looked like shit. It was official. She was the woman who'd fucked up Leon Kennedy's hair. He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflective glass of a shop stall.

His hair, literally, stuck straight up in front like he'd moused it into a mohawk. It was...fucking awful. He moved a little to one of the rows of shops with a sink to rinse vegetables and fruit. And he did his best to make himself look less...like he'd just bathed in Jill Valentine's blood to bring her back from the dead.

Fuck. He leaned on the sink a minute and breathed. His hands gripped and bared down. The sink groaned under the assault. He wanted to rip it out of the wall and hurl it across the market. He wanted to roar like a lion and tear the world apart to reverse the last few days and the horror of another failure to forestall the end of his world.

He wanted anybody to tell him why he was still fighting when there was no hope.

There was no hope left.

Quietly, the wind reminded him he was no longer alone. Her voice carried, hoarse but steady, "...not yet. Look at me."

He did, with the mirror above the sink tossing his reflection back at her. She nodded, holding his gaze with a steely determination that fed his own. She repeated it quietly, "Not yet."

The story of his life. But it wasn't just his story anymore...it was theirs.

He let go of the sink and let go of the rage to remember there was always hope. It was standing by the door waiting for him.

Jill watched him, aching. The water slid down his face and made even his pain beautiful. He'd brought her back. He should have left her behind, but he'd brought her back.

All her life, she'd been blessed by having two men who loved her enough to tear the world apart and rewrite the stars to protect her. Chris had never been right for her. Maybe, if life had given them a world that didn't need warriors, they might have been happy. But the universe had offered her another path. It had offered her another chance.

It gave her a man who didn't just come across the world to find her; he brought her back to life to keep her. How did she honor that? How did she repay it? She and Chris had lost each other a long time ago.

She'd nearly forgotten what it was like to weave her world with another's until the risk of losing was so high it killed as it healed.

They'd known each other a handful of days, but she'd been looking for him all her life.

She wanted to hold him. She wanted to hold him and keep on holding him until it was over and they were both free just to love each other. And the boy with them.

Instead?

She knelt, and Ben stepped up beside her. He touched her face while she examined the locks and slid her tools free to select amongst them. Jill turned to look at him. He leaned over and kissed her mouth, just once, so softly.

It shivered in her and stole her breath. It broke her heart and healed her heart, and helped her be strong when she was so weak. And he said, "I p'otected you while they saved you. I did it."

Jill cupped his face and smiled at him. "You did. My hero. Will you cover me while I work?"

"I will." He puffed up his chest and turned back to watch the market. He held the pistol in his hands like he knew what he was doing with it. It was scary and sad to know he had to do it. So young. A baby. A baby protecting them.

Jill queried gently, "You should have a puppy, not a handgun."

Ben shook his head, sniffling, "Not yet."

Jesus. Her own words to haunt them both. She'd get him the fucking puppy. And she'd make it, so he never had to pick up another gun.

Jill turned back to the door.

Leon looked amongst the market while she worked. It was the stench of rotting meat and the smell of sulfur from the fire they'd left behind. And there was the wet smell of rain and summer. He glanced up at the turbulent sky to see the boil of blackened clouds kick across the bowl of darkness on the horizon.

They were in trouble if a heavy storm kicked up. But what choice did they have?

They had to go on.

A lock released with a mechanized hiss. Jill shifted to the second of three.

There was a rustling from one of the stalls. Leon gestured with his head, and Helena moved to stand between Jill and the stall in question. Leon palmed the Magnum and aimed it, strolling toward the rustle of movement.

A couple of banana crates overturned, spilling their rotting wares onto the ground as the thing making all the noise rose. It was…a wavy tube man with a thousand teeth. It was black and roped and slimy with a mouth opened in a continuous gaping O. It was some kind of leech creature that spilled from the carcass of a rotting boar and burped up…it's own ass. It burped up its ass from its mouth.

Leon quipped, "So much for not going ass to mouth." And he shot it as it attempted to knit itself together with slippery strings of muscle and bubblegum pink intestines. He shot its gaping mouth while it made a high-pitched sound, almost like nails on a chalkboard.

Wincing, he plugged it full of bullets and watched it flop on the ground and go still. Its face was hamburger and blood as it twitched and died. He shot it twice in the chest for good measure, and it…separated. It slurped like a person eating soup and fell apart, disconnecting from its ass and hips.

So it, apparently, burped up its body parts and then fell apart when wounded. Like the leech it resembled, it was asexual and capable of regeneration. Horrible. And it smelled like a moldy fart. Was it possible to have a B.O.W that didn't smell like shit and vomit?

The answer was clearly no.

"Ugh. Gives new meaning to ass face. Seriously."

He turned back to the door, and Helena shouted. She was running.

Leon tilted his head at her in surprise and heard it. He heard it too late. It smashed its arm into him and threw him up and out. It knit as he flew. He smashed into the roof of a shop across the street, came down in a mess of sound and bursting boxes, and tried to figure out if his spine was broken. He shifted and watched the ass of the bisected creature rushing toward him. It kicked at him while its intestines flopped around uselessly, and he rolled away, shuddering.

Nope.

His spine was definitely not broken.

Apparently, the spine of the creature wasn't either.

Disgusting.

The head and torso with its arms and hands clamored over the ground to join the ass. Leon spun a side kick at the hips and legs and sent them skidding over the ground. Something told him NOT to let the two get back together. Like Justin Timberlake and N-Sync, some things were better apart.

He shouted, "Helena! Disable the head and chest!"

And he put three heavy rounds into the flailing butt and legs. It spewed nasty goop and flopped its slimy guts as it kicked and spasmed, jerking and jumping like a landed fish. He could hear Helena firing into the head and arms.

"Leon!"

He turned, kicking the ass and legs across the ground into a pile of boxes, and a hand landed on his face. A hand…grabbed his face. It wasn't attached to anything. It was, literally, a severed hand. It was Thing from The Addam's Family. It settled on his face and started smothering him. And it was so strong it almost broke his nose in the first assault.

Leon staggered, gasping. He stumbled into the wall of the shop and started yanking. It dug dirty fingernails into flesh and tried to rip his face off his head. It ground the heel of that putrescent hand into his nose and tried to shove it into his brain. He was smothering, staggering, and dying…from a hand.

Just a hand.

How fucking degrading was that!?

He felt someone pulling on his vest and sank to his knees. His lungs were screaming for air. His face was bleeding.

The hand jerked. It went stiff. And it fell off his face to the ground. Ben had it spitted on Jill's little eating dagger like a shish kabob. He tugged the knife free when it hit the ground and started stomping. His little boots crushed and destroyed. He jumped on it, grinding it into the dirty ground.

Leon was half leaning on the counter of the shop where he'd fallen, watching him. He lifted his hand and felt along his face. His nose was sore and bleeding but didn't feel broken. There were bloody half-moon fingernail marks on the left side of his face, but it hadn't torn any skin.

He was fucking lucky.

Ben: Boy Hero.

Leon said, "That was the worst hand job I've ever had."

Jill glanced at him from the door as the final lock clicked open. She blinked at him. He blinked back. And then she laughed weakly.

Helena was dragging the twitching head and arms she'd destroyed into a shop along the far side of the street. Leon listened to her rummaging around in it. And then he heard the heavy whir of a machine firing up. There was a crunch, a sputter of blades, and a splatter of noise as she shoved it…into a meat grinder.

Leon watched her emerge, wiping her hands. She met his look equally. "What?"

Impressed, he laughed a little, "Aren't you something? Welcome to the club, Helena Harper. You're officially one of us now. Baptized in blood."

And she was. She was sprayed with it. It flecked on her pretty face and clothes. She grinned a little and helped him to his feet. "You should have turned me in. Seriously. It would have cleared your name. You could have gone back with Ben and Jill and been safe."

He shook his head and winked at her. "You kidding? It wouldn't have stopped Simmons. We need all the help we can get. You just proved you're worth protecting. Besides, you're startin to grow on me a little bit."

Jill was wavering. He scooped her against his front like a monkey and let Helena cover them as they moved through the open gate. Ben kept a vigilant watch for them as they moved.

They stepped into the cool night air adjacent to an enormous building. It might not have mattered at all…but Ada Wong slipped through a door at the top of a walkway.

Curious, Helena and Leon locked eyes over Jill. "Ada?!"

Helena shrugged, and they moved for the stairs.

The steel steps were loud as they mounted them.

Jill said, "I can walk. Put me down. I'm ok."

He set her down on the walkway and scanned her face. "You need to rest, Jill. Let me call Barry Burton to get you. Wait here with Ben. He can have you extracted in minutes."

She shook her head, determined. "You don't know that. We don't know anything at this point. But if we stay, it could be Tall Oaks again, Leon. I can't protect him from what I don't know."

He held her gaze for a long moment and finally nodded.

Helena gripped the door handle and nodded. One, two, three. They cleared the room beyond high and low and ready. But it was empty.

They emerged into a warehouse or the beginning of a lab. It was all stone and test tubes. Floating in gunk was horrible faces frozen in death or birth or both. Leon said, "Don't look, Benny. Keep your eyes peeled for hostiles."

Ben nodded sagely as they walked through the narrow hallway before them.

Ada called down on the catwalk above them, "Fancy meeting you here. Like what I've done with the place?"

And there was buzz from the end of the long hallway as an elevator opened.

"Hurry!" Yelled Helena as Ada fired off her grapple gun to dodge a hail of bullets. Who was shooting at her!? What was she doing there!?

The questions kept piling up without any real answers.

But they were running for the elevator at the end of the hall.

Jill and Ben reached it first. They rushed inside, and Jill staggered, falling to her hands and knees. Helena and Leon were too far back. Too far. The elevator snapped closed on them.

"Damnit!"

Helena said, "It's ok. It's ok. We'll take the stairs. Let's go!"

They veered down a short hallway and grabbed the door for the stairwell. They cleared as they ran together, racing toward the top floor. There was the pounding of boots. There was shouting.

At the top of the walk, Ben was trying to help Jill to her feet. She staggered and leaned heavily on the wall. She was breathing too fast. She was too weak. She was afraid for the first time in years. She'd been dead before. Dead. Her body thought she was still dead. It wouldn't cooperate.

Helena and Leon hit the top of the stairwell.

Across the walk, Ada Wong was being held at gunpoint by a man with an assault rifle. Leon hesitated, torn between helping Jill and stopping Ada Wong from eating a bullet.

Jill waved her hand at him, gasping, "Go! GO! HURRY!"

And so he ran.

Leon raced toward them. Helena turned back to get Jill to her feet.

The gunman raised his weapon to fire, and Leon smacked his arm. The shot went wild, peppering the wall as the assault rifle was knocked to the steel floor below them. Leon threw his wrists down to block the short kick the other man threw at his shin. He swung a punch, and Leon ducked low and spun a back kick at him.

They grappled, and the other man grabbed him to drive his knee into his sternum. Leon barely got his wrists up to block it, and the man drove that heavy knee in him, once, twice, and Leon threw an elbow to displace him and swung a reverse hook at him. It was fast. It was brutal. The other man tackled him outright. Leon's feet went down, his hips braced, and he shoved back to keep from losing his feet.

The other man flipped him around and tried to pin his arms. Leon rolled through it across his massive back and tried to get him in a chokehold. Grunting, cursing, the other man had had enough. He let out a shout of rage and hooked Leon under the arm. Leon had a second to think: holy shit. Things were suddenly at warp speed. The other man rolled Leon over his back and threw him out.

It was a good fucking hip toss. Leon went out; he tucked under, rolled across the floor, and came up with his pistol aimed and ready.

And he was face to face with Chris Redfield.