A/N: I don't own Resident Evil. Sadly.

Love and Other Drugs

Part Four:

Cold Turkey

You meet thousands of people, and none of them really touch you. And then you meet one person, and your life is changed...forever.

― Love and Other Drugs

Quantico, Virginia - 2004

The winter was coming quickly on the East Coast. It was all crunchy leaves that fell gold and orange from trees headed toward hibernation. The winter never made him think of dying, not really; it made him remember what it was like to be asleep, waiting to wake up on a beautiful spring morning to the birth of a new day. Amused at the poetic rambling, Leon tipped the scotch in his hand to his lips.

The balcony that overlooked the Potomac River was chilly. The laughter and conversation beyond the glass window were muted and muffled—a dinner to celebrate the new President Graham. A man with a plan, it seemed, for bioterror and corruption. He was going to stop it. He was going to change the world.

He was a fool.

Leon studied the water in the dying sunlight. It rippled happily. It was pretty between the shores of people who dotted the grass around it walking and living their lives. They had no idea the cost of giving them the freedom they took for granted. He doubted anyone did when they slept in their warm beds at night.

Graham wouldn't make a difference. He'd cover up the ugly truth like all those before him. He'd fall on his sword, play the puppet, and smile for the cameras. He'd never tell the people he served the truth: that the war they were fighting was happening in their own backyard. That the US government was just as guilty as Umbrella had been for making the monsters that Leon had almost died fighting.

He threw back his scotch with a hiss of pleasure at its burn.

It kept you alert. It reminded you that you were alive to feel the rush of it. There were few things in the world that did that.

Leon turned to look back into the restaurant and found his gaze sweeping the people there. Morgan Lansdale, the director of the Federal Bioterror Commission or the FBC. Clive Owen, head of the Bioterror Security and Assessment Alliance or the BSAA. Kent Carver, the head of the bioterror office of US Strategic Command or US STRATCOM. A handful of agents from all agencies gathered around a big table filled with piles of food.

And Jill Valentine.

He paused his gaze. His heart thumped twice in his chest. She was in a skinny black suit with a blue collared shirt under it. Her long hair was loose around her shoulders in a pretty chestnut fall. A fringe of bangs fell over her smooth forehead and graced the tops of her big blue eyes. She wasn't laughing. She wasn't even smiling. She stood at the edges of the group of men and didn't fit in.

He'd heard stories about her. You did, in their business, from other men. How she was a ballbuster. How she was a frigid bitch. How she had penis envy. He imagined his mother would box the ears of any man who talked like that about women in her presence. She'd made it clear from the moment he came into the world that women weren't something you fucked and forgot about. You treated a woman like a lady, always. No matter how big of a bitch you might think she was.

At one point, someone had tried to get him into the conversation impugning Jill, and he'd said, "It's gotta be hard knowing she's better in this business than you are. I bet that just chaps your ass all to hell."

After that, nobody really said much about her to him. He knew it was dangerous to come to her defense, that people might start talking about it. But he refused to fall prey to peer pressure and talk about her like she was tits and ass and ovaries. That kind of guy, he wasn't.

Leon opened the balcony door and stepped inside. He felt the moment she looked at him while he was getting another scotch from the bartender. His gaze shifted to hers. She lifted a corner of her mouth in a tiny smile. He winked and gestured with his head.

There was a small sitting room off the hotel's main dining room where they were all gathered for dinner. Leon ducked inside to find it decorated in old-fashioned antiques. Elegant. Pale blue and pretty. Not his cup of tea with all the ornate gold and pastel, but he got the idea. What was it? Victorian?

The door eased open, and Jill's voice said, "You forgot the jacket to that suit."

He hadn't. He never wore suit jackets. It wasn't his style. The black leather of his shoulder holster complimented the gray slacks and the blood-red dress shirt. The wing-tipped dress shoe he wore? Those were graced with steel toes. Style didn't mean simple. He could still run five miles and whip your ass in his fancy shoes.

But he quipped, "Figured I'd make it easier for you to get to my rockin bod. Next time I'll just strip to the skin and a pair of boots. Or maybe a hat. You think a nice fedora?"

What an image. Her face flushed with half amusement, half excitement.

She laughed. She just laughed and eased some kind of tension he didn't know was there. "With what? A trench coat?"

"With a fedora? Is that a little...dirty flasher in the park?"

"Only if you don't want to be flashed."

He nodded sagely, "You want me to just flash you next time instead?"

"Oh, yeah."

"People might think I'm a stalker, Jill. I can't stalk you around in a trench coat and a fedora. All the other badass agents will pick on me. How about we just cut the middle man and go with a bow for you to unwrap?"

Her eyes twinkled so happily. She'd missed him. It was an odd feeling, "I say yes. You promise?"

"You bet. We talking now?"

Her hands grabbed his holster, and she jerked him toward her as he added in a mutter, "Nope. Guess not."

She was kind of laughing as she kissed him. He let her pull him down and propelled her backward until she bumped against the door. Jill moaned softly and pushed her hands under the holster to stroke his shoulders over the shirt.

She broke from the kiss to gasp, "Silk?"

"Yep." His hand slid down into her pants to palm her over her panties, making her eyes cross, "Silk? I think it gets ruined if it's wet."

She gripped his ears again as they went back to kissing. There was the clink of belts and the metallic whoosh of zippers. He nearly fell over-hopping to get his left shoe off, and she kept groping him from behind until he gave up and turned back with one shoe still on. Jill giggled a little as he grunted, "You keep grabbing my ass, and you'll never get a piece of it."

Jill half collapsed on the settee against the wall as he tugged off her shoe and got one leg of her pants off before he declared, "Good enough for government work." And made her adore him.

He started to finish undressing her while she jerked open his shirt under his holster to touch his chest, and she told him, "Nope. It's good. We're good. This is good."

"Sure. We're mostly still dressed, but whatever." He hiked her up onto the settee while she laughed and moaned when he pulled her panties to the side to test how wet she was with his fingers. She humped against his hand, and Leon grunted with pleasure.

"...check. Ready. Ready?"

He was something else. She thought he was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

She affirmed, "Ready."

His hand slid to his back and slapped around mindlessly until he laughed, "Welp...I seem to have lost my pants on that leg. Grab beside your knee there, darlin, and see if you can find my wallet."

"Why? You gonna show me some ID first? I know you're old enough, Mr. Kennedy. This time. The first time? Maybe not so much."

Leon chuckled as she grabbed his wallet and opened it. He reached over her to pluck the condom out and answered, "Good boy. See?"

Before she could answer, his hand delved into her, and her legs tried to give out as she whined and humped on him. Leon kissed her, and she ripped open the condom to help him get it on while he shot a palm under her shirt to knead her breast over her bra. Jill finally collapsed back on the settee for him to jerk her toward the end. Her hands scrambled and tugged on his holster to pull him down to kiss him.

And he shoved into her.

Not easy. Sharp. They swallowed each other's sounds of completion.

It was so fast. She lifted her hips to take him and make it that much quicker. Her legs wrapped around his flanks, he tilted her pelvis to an angle that made her blood shoot out of her ears, and he hit the spot in her—one, two - done.

She slapped his face without meaning to as she came so hard it hurt. Her needy sheath vice gripped his dick so hard it made his eyes cross. Impossibly aroused, he pinned her arms above her head to finish. The settee squeaked, shook, and slid a few inches with each hard thrust. He groaned, "Shit." And came.

His hands pinned her down, and he fucked her through it. She keened and shook like a leaf as her body squeezed him. He collapsed atop her, Jill oofed, and her arms came up to grip his hair hard and make him grunt.

Into her ear, he panted hoarsely, "...good to see you, Jill."

And she gasped out a breathless laugh.

The dinner ended. The evening stretched. They took a walk along the river. He stopped to buy more condoms and had her laughing. "Pretty arrogant to assume you'll need those, hot stuff."

And Leon retorted, "Look who's talking. These aren't for you, Valentine. I have an orgy to get to later."

They ended up back at her hotel and took a bath. She said, "Don't stay the night, ok? That's.."

"Against the rules?"

He was starting to wonder if she knew how many of her own she was breaking.

They had some drinks. She started dancing to the music from the radio she'd turned on. She was in a pair of panties, and his red shirt left open over her torso. Leon stood against the door frame from the dining room to watch her.

Something shifted in his belly that was definitely against the rules.

She beckoned him with a slender finger, and all that dark hair tousled around her gorgeous face. Who said no to that?

His arms slid around her under that shirt. He pulled her close. Their hips moved together as if they'd been made to fuse. They danced in the living room of her suite.

The moonlight was smooth on her back as he dressed in it to leave. But she caught the back of his belt and said, "I said don't stay the night. I don't see anyone sleeping yet."

He should go. He was dangerously close to wanting to keep her. He should go. Caution signs flashed all around her on the bed. Bad. Bad. GOOD.

He slid onto the bed atop her. The redshirt cocooned them as they kissed. Different somehow, he thought, this kiss. Different.

They fell asleep anyway. No matter what her rules said. And she woke him in the night atop him.

That shirt, he thought wildly, his shirt around her naked torso. The swell of her breasts in the silvery light. His hand skimmed up her belly to the base of her slender throat. She had her head thrown back as she rode him.

His other hand slid over her groin to stroke her where their bodies joined. Jill trembled. She gasped high and desperate. He waited to see if she'd do what he thought she would - and she did.

She curled down over him to kiss him as she came. Her whole body shook like she was about to have a seizure. Leon waited again to see if she'd say anything -and she did. She gasped his name as she came.

He wanted to keep her.

It was that simple.

Rules or not.

His hand gripped her hair. He lifted her face to watch her eyes and commanded, gruffly, "Look at me."

She did, gasping, even as he surged up into her, rolled, and put her beneath him to finish. She opened her eyes, legs, and mouth to call his name again and enchant him. Succubus, he thought wildly; she wanted his soul. Her hands slapped at his ass, and she raked her nails up his back to grab handfuls of the muscle as if he were a racehorse. She was whipping him to victory and just trying to hold on.

Her eyes started to close, and he gruffed, "No. Don't look away."

Jill did, gasping, unable to do anything but obey. Unable to do anything but wrap around him like an octopus and be entranced with him.

A shift of his hips and he felt her go again, tight, a high pitched keen from her open mouth. Her heavy-lidded eyes were held by his. He went after her, pinning her hips with one hand and holding her hair with the other to keep her looking at him.

It was her who looked away first when they'd both stopped trembling.

She'd woken him to love him.

As he rolled off her to remove the condom, he wondered if she understood what that meant.

After he'd disposed of the condom and washed himself up a little in the dark, he found her lying on her back, panting at the ceiling. He knew what was coming now. But he hoped against hope he was wrong.

She said quietly, "I think you should go."

Leon sighed and answered, "I could stay."

"No. I...no. Just sex, right? You should go."

He shook his head as he turned to gather up his clothes. He felt her shift in the bed to look at him. She asked, "You mad?"

Leon laughed dryly, "Why? I know the rules."

Jill chewed her lip and answered, "You broke them a little."

"Me?" He jerked on his pants in a way that made her wince. Yep, she thought, he was mad. "How so?"

"...you stayed the night."

And now he froze. The sun was just rising beyond the window. He glanced at her and shook his head with a dry snort, "So I do. What about you? You asked me to."

Jill denied this, rolling away from him on the bed. "No. I said don't stay. You know that."

"Yeah. And you just rolled on top of me anyway, didn't you? No hard feelings, right? I said that." He'd meant it. It wasn't her fault he had feelings for her. That was his. But it made him angry at them both. "Just sex. Those are the rules. See you around, Jill."

"You want your shirt?"

"Nah. Keep it..." He paused and looked at her in the moonlight, "...it looks better on you anyway."

He reached the hallway elevator, and she didn't come after him.

He wanted her to ask him to stay.

She didn't.

It wasn't her fault he had feelings for her.

But he kinda hated her anyway for it.

Albarracín, Aragon -2004

The harsh gust of her breathing punctuated the click of her sandals on the stone. The beautiful isolated mountain village was graced with sprays of colorful houses. Pink, orange, red -a sunset of simple Spanish architecture against a cerulean sky. She'd hardly been able to sleep the night before. She'd scarcely eaten a thing that morning. Her stomach was in knots.

She'd been having coffee when she'd overheard two men talking about it. It was incredible, they were saying; it was nothing anyone had ever seen. He'd taken on a whole village single-handedly. He'd fought things they'd only read about in science fiction novels. His report was said to be the bible of the bioterror world.

He went from a soldier to a legend in a single day.

Leon Kennedy had rescued the President's daughter. A shit detail he'd been given as a lark by the higher-ups had become the thing that would define his career. He wasn't the boy in the bad city anymore. He was the guy who'd saved the world.

Jill had set her coffee down in the break room. She'd gone to the office to find Clive on the phone with Lansdale and the head of Security Service. He'd lifted a hand to wave her into his office. She'd asked, "Where is he now?"

And Clive had touched the file on his desk to spin it toward her. Spain. He'd been extracted on the coast of a small Spanish island without a name. A jut of land that was really nothing. He'd been given furlough while his report and his story were corroborated.

Covering the phone's mouthpiece with his hand, Clive told her, "I'm glad you're asking. I want him. Get him to leave US STRATCOM and join the BSAA. Offer him whatever he wants."

What a coincidence, Jill thought; I want him too.

She nodded and turned on her heel.

On the plane, she thought about how she'd cut him loose a few weeks before that. Stupid. She'd panicked. She'd looked at him and seen that look on his face, panicked. In their line of work, there was no room for that face. There was no room for that feeling. It wouldn't end well if he fell in love with her. She'd tried to stop it. She'd hurt him, and she hated herself for it.

She didn't want to hurt him. She just didn't want him to hurt her either.

The little hotel they'd put him up was cool and warmed by pretty peat fires. The smell wasn't something you forgot. It was common in the countryside as an alternative to gas or fuel. She wanted to apologize and explain. She wanted to take a minute and talk about why she was trying so hard to keep it simple between them.

Jill lifted her hand and knocked gently on the heavy white door of his room.

A handful of minutes later, he opened the door shirtless in a pair of loose gray sweats. He was tousled like he'd been sleeping. She figured he had done nothing but sleep since he'd gotten back. Who could blame him?

His neck was pebbled with welts like he'd taken a shock rod. His cheek had a slash on it that was raised and angry. His mouth was swollen like he'd taken a punch. His eyes ringed in tired circles.

But he was alright.

The second she saw that, she gushed, "Oh, god. Leon..."

"Jill? Wh-"

He was barely out the door of his room before she stepped into him. He didn't even close the door to his room before she circled his waist with her arms and put her face against his chest, "Are you alright? You look ok. But are you? I didn't know-nobody knew much. I just-"

Her mouth turned up and kissed behind his left ear. She kissed across his jaw and covered him in words and lips, "They sent you alone. I can't believe that. Who runs that chop shop you work for?! You should come work with me. Do you want to? Do you w-"

She'd found his mouth.

She stopped talking to kiss him.

His hands hadn't done anything but hover in the air from the moment she'd touched him. But they did now. She felt the tension in him just release. His hands caught her face to tilt it up to him. Jill made a sound of happiness and arched into his body more. Her hands slid down his back and cupped his ass over his sweatpants. He moaned but tugged her face back and whispered hoarsely, "Wait, wait...wait. Jill wait...I need to t-"

Behind him, the cracked door emitted a single voice, "...don't stop on my account. I do so love a good romantic comedy."

Jill froze. Her hands on his ass released. She looked at him in horror as she stepped back from him. His hands slid down her arms as he cautioned, "...hold on. Just hold on."

Jill glanced at the cracked door. The soft light from the room window fell all over the woman in his bed. She was curled in a sheet on her side, watching them unabashed. Curious. Beautiful and black-haired with legs so long they might have been ten feet. She gave Jill a sly smile, "Sorry to ruin your reunion."

Jill tugged against her arms and whispered, "Of course. I'm so stupid. I'm sorry."

Leon shook his head desperately. "No. Please don't say sorry. Just...fuck..."

"...I think you did already."

She said it so softly. It hurt them both. He shook his head, angry at himself, "I didn't know you'd be here. Just let me explain."

"Oh, Leon, no. Please, no. I'm sorry. You don't have to do that. We're not-we aren't any-shit. Just-" She tugged on her arms, and he let go of her looking crushed and horrified and kinda desperate, "I'm sorry I interrupted. I'll just-you know what? I'm gonna go to the bar downstairs, ok? When you're-"

She shook her head and tried again, "I'll be down there waiting. I have a business thing to..." Jill trailed off. The woman in the bed looked so amused and smug on that rumpled bed. Did he tuck her face down and put her ass up as he took her?

Shit. Jill hated the jealousy. It wasn't like her at all. This was why she stayed away from men as complicated as him.

In the bed, the woman mused, "Should I get some popcorn for this show? I enjoy a tearful goodbye. We're just missing the rain and the confession at the airport for it to be trite."

Leon snapped the door shut on her.

The silence curled until she whispered, "Who is she?"

"Sh-"

Her head shook hard, "No. No. I'm sorry. I have no right to ask that. Don't answer it. It's none of my business. I should have called first."

How did he explain Ada Wong? There were no actual words here to make it understandable. But he wanted to. For the first time in his life, he wanted to stop a girl from leaving. He just didn't know how.

"I don't know where to start. You can...you can ask me whatever you want, Jill; I'm sorry. Let me tell you about her."

Jill lifted her hand as he started forward, "There's no need. Really. Don't apologize again, ok? You're not doing anything wrong."

Leon shook his head. He looked so ashamed. Why? He wasn't hers. Jill lifted her hand at him, "I just can't do this. I'm sorry. I have to go."

She simply wasn't magnanimous enough to sit in the bar and wait for him to finish fucking that woman. Sleepy tousled? Nope. He'd been sex tousled. Had she kissed him with that other woman still on his lips?

Jill made a slight sound of distress and broke his heart. "Jill..."

"Don't. It's me. I'm sorry. Just..." She tossed the envelope from Clive between them on the floor. "Business concluded. I'm glad you're ok. It's...good to see you, Leon."

She turned. She fled.

He closed his eyes and prayed for lighting to strike him dead on the spot.

He wasn't so lucky. In the room, the voice of Ada Wong cooed, "Are you coming back? Or are you going to chase the thief?"

Of course, she knew about Jill. Of course, she did.

He'd made a colossal mistake in a moment of doubt and weakness and taken a spy to his bed. The price was higher than just his honor. It was Jill and whatever they might have started together. He'd wanted a fuck, and boy did he get fucked.

To prove he didn't care about the girl who'd just left him standing in the hallway. To hurt her because she'd never chased after him. Stupid. Emotional.

And true.

Just like that, he'd cut himself off from her.

He felt like he'd just started withdrawals.

He could head down to the bar and bury his pain in a bottle of booze, but it wouldn't feel like a hit of Jill Valentine.

He could chase the high and track the thief and hurt them both.

Instead?

He turned around and went back to lie in the bed that he'd made.