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

Love and Other Drugs

Part Seven:

Rock Bottom

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

Franklin, Indiana - 2006

Death was never final in their business. They couldn't find her body. They couldn't bury her. They made a grave without her there to rest. He stood at the edges of the graveyard to watch them have a ceremony without a corpse.

The dreary November rain was fitting. It was gray. It was cold. It was windy.

At the empty coffin's awning, Claire and her brother said goodbye to a woman they'd known for a decade. It was an intrusion to invade upon their grief. Some might even say he had no right. He'd known her a handful of days in the years since they'd first met in Raccoon City. He didn't know where she'd grown up or what she'd wanted to be as a girl. He didn't know if she was a cat or a dog person.

He'd been inside her and watched her face while the sunset bled the horizon red and gold.

He hadn't really known her.

Had he?

Her loss felt like a hole in his guts that opened over nothing. He felt raw and empty and numb -a painful place to be.

He had no right to stand beside those who had been her friend for a decade and grieve.

But he loved her. Maybe from the second she'd put her mouth to his ear to tempt him, he'd loved her. Maybe that earned him the right to stand there and mourn her.

But he couldn't mourn without a body. He couldn't say goodbye. They'd found neither her nor Albert Wesker. The agent in him swirled beside the broken man and whispered: she's not dead.

And the hope in his heart was painful.

They started a prayer in Latin. Claire in her black dress. Chris in his uniform. The large gathering of those who'd loved her and lost her. Leon stood outside it and let the emptiness fill with revenge. It touched on the last vestiges of his determination and germinated into a seed of singular purpose: he would find her.

He would never give up looking for her until he saw her body. He'd unearth and overturn every person who'd ever farted in the general direction of Albert Wesker. He'd break them one at a time while he scorched the Earth in her memory.

He'd find her.

And he'd kill anyone who got in his way.

Ouarzazate, Morocco -Africa - 2007

The Sahara spread vast and endless until it touched the High Atlas mountains dusted in snow. The heat was a living thing, even as the chill swallowed it. There was nothing quite like the gateway to the desert. It was impossible to describe unless your eyes had seen it themselves.

Standing with a shemagh around his lower face, the white of the shirt he wore was bright in the dying sunlight. Leon waited beside the open-air desert patrol vehicle, which mostly resembled a dune buggy made of sandy steel. He watched people filter in and out of the beautiful old city before him, shopping, dining, living - and he was waiting for news about death.

The green camouflage around his face flickered in the breeze as a gray faded Jeep rolled to a stop on the far side of the narrow street. A camel followed and stopped behind it, spitting and pawing at the sand. Brow quirked, Leon watched with amusement as Excella Gionne alighted from the vehicle. Beautiful, buxom, the head of the African division of Tricell came toward him in a desert look worthy of Audrey Hepburn. She was somehow classy in a red and white bohemian style flowing dress of chiffon and expensive leather boots in dark beige. The wide lens dark sunglasses perched on her perfect pert nose were beneath the pretty sheer scarf draped above inky tresses.

She came from money, power, and influence, radiating off her in nearly palpable waves. She was also a woman who was used to getting what she wanted from any man alive. Her curves and intelligence were a lethal combination that she often used to slay any male without enough common sense to run screaming.

They'd recently shared one particularly generic night together that had left them both less than impressed. Excella had...tastes that were, for lack of a better word, exotic. As it stood, he simply wasn't the type of man who enjoyed being someone else's plaything, but she still made for a powerful ally.

Smiling beguilingly, she sashayed toward him with a file in her hands. "Mr. Kennedy- somehow, the desert suits you."

"I'd say the same."

She leaned in, and so did he to brush a polite kiss over her cheek that she echoed.

With a wolfish flash of her teeth, Excella told him, "I'll caution you against using too much...crass pressure on the men in that folder, Leon. You might find a more delicate touch is necessary to get results."

He arched a brow at her, "The question is simple, Excella. The answer should be too."

"Should it?" She tilted her head at him, "Why do you care so much about a former B.S.A.A. agent? You're so much better than to be wasted on one simple girl."

Leon tossed the folder into the patrol vehicle as he answered, "Sometimes things are much more complicated than they appear, Excella. You of all people know that."

"I do," She pursed her lips and considered before answering, "You might want to try locating the top name first...I hear she has a long-standing history of making trouble for the B.S.A.A."

He slid into the driver's seat and picked up the file. The top photo was a familiar face on all the wrong lists- Sherawat, Jessica: the woman who'd played double agent and nearly gotten Jill and Chris killed some years before on that cruise liner with T-Abyss. Was it possible she knew where to find Jill now?

He started to thank her, but Excella was already moving back toward her vehicle as she called, "She'll have a sample you might enjoy bringing in as well. I've left you this camel, Mr. Kennedy...you'll find there are places that your pretty little car simply cannot go."

He watched her slide into the seat and waggled her nails at him.

He had no clue that all the information he needed to find Jill had just sent him on a wild goose chase.

As her car turned toward the city, she said into her phone, "There, darling, I've handled both of our problems. He'll locate Jessica and dispose of her for me. And you are free from his bloodhounding."

The smiling face of Albert Wesker stared back at her on the wide LCD screen, "Good. I do hate to be...delayed."

Behind him, the sleeping face of Jill Valentine continued to float in her liquid prison.

Brussels, Belgium - 2007

Leon Kennedy was often a man that was sent in to track down a target. He'd been known to do it sharply, swiftly, and without a trace. This time, he was sent to rendezvous with a spy offering intel for a price. Excella had offered him a clear path to the former B.S.A.A. agent turned traitor.

The open-air café was at the base of the Atomium, Brussels Eiffel Tower. The Atomium resembled a helix of steel DNA. It was a child's playful game of Jacks. It was something to see in the early evening light.

Daily flower markets lined the beautiful cobblestone streets. The architecture in Brussels was medieval grand. There was a constant sense of days gone by as one toured the crowded streets. Pubs and bars were common and frequented by tourists and locals alike. Known for its fresh cuisine, the open-air markets were plentiful and offered the shoppers a chance to purchase fresh staples to prepare exquisite delights for the palate.

The girl in question sat with a large cambric cloche hat atop a stunning face. The rhinestones on the hat winked. The sunglasses were oversize and studded with Swarovski crystals atop maroon frames. The dress was lacy, black, and had a heart-shaped bodice. It was Wang and accented a tiny waist, and long, long legs tucked beautifully into satiny white wedges studded with crystals. The dress ended at mid-thigh, but the train continued down the back, curling around her ankles where she sat, sipping a glass of wine.

Dark hair curled from beneath the hat and teased over the clearly displayed cleavage of its owner. She paused with her wine to her lips and lifted a corner of her mouth. The red rose on the table signaled her as his contact. Amused, he moved to join her.

It was simply too easy. She'd been on the run from the B.S.A.A. for so long. Why the sudden turnabout? He'd found her in less than half a day after meeting with Reynard Fisher near Kijuju on the back of that camel he'd been given. Either she wasn't interested in hiding anymore or had something to bargain with for her freedom.

Jessica watched him casually but with interest. She'd heard of him, of course. You didn't move in their world without knowing about the Ghost. He was notorious for a variety of reasons. His intellect was above reproach. His flirtation was whispered about in giggles. His face, of course, she'd heard the face was something.

That shaggy hair and days' worth of whiskers highlighted it beneath the square Gucci sunglasses. The Prada peacoat he wore was navy and set off his khakis and the boots beneath. He mixed designers like some men mixed a cocktail; flawlessly.

He sat down across from her. She offered him a glass of wine. He declined and instead ordered a glass of scotch.

She said, "Mr. Kennedy, your reputation proceeds you."

"Ms. Sherawat, I'd like to say the same, but I'm afraid I can't."

Amused, Jessica eyed him. "Come to bring me in, have you?"

"It would seem the answer is no," He sipped the scotch, studying her, "You are a valuable asset. Deal freely; you go free. We aren't interested in policing double agents. The world we live in needs them. You have the sample?"

"I did have it," Jessica lifted a slim case and shook free a cigarette, "I handed it over this morning to my benefactor."

Amused, Leon took the offered smoke and lit it up. They studied each other in the inky smoke.

"Then I should bring you in."

Jessica smiled slyly, "You could. Or I could be persuaded to give you the name of my benefactor."

Leon considered her. She shifted her legs and recrossed them. "I'm listening."

Jessica rose from the table. The dress showed all ten feet of her legs, to fine example. Leon rose as well, and they started walking through the square together. In the wedges, she was only a few inches shorter than him.

She said, "I heard you are known to, often, play fast and loose with the rules."

"Seemingly."

"What does your protocol tell you to do with me?"

They crossed the busy square, moving among the laughing, shopping, excited throng of people around them. She slipped her hand around his arm and cupped his bicep. Amused, he considered his answer.

"Protocol says to bring you in. Without a sample, you're a liability."

Jessica smiled softly. "I have plenty of knowledge to trade you, Mr. Kennedy. I will, of course, go spontaneously deaf and dumb if you were to take me in."

Leon studied her face beneath that hat. And he knew this game well. He'd been playing this game with Ada Wong for years. He'd play it all day if it helped locate Jill. What was he really saying? That he'd sleep with anyone, it took to find her?

He was kind of afraid the answer to that was yes.

"I'll trade your freedom for the right knowledge, Ms. Sherawat. The paperwork attached to bringing you in would ruin my evening. I enjoy the pubs in Brussels. I'd like to do some pub crawling before dawn."

"Mixing business with pleasure?"

Ah.

Her smile was sly. His was wolfish. "I've been known to."

"Then we have a deal. Come with me." She had a room on the top floor of the Meridien. It was a castle of epic proportions. The room was stately, plush, and filled with antiques older than a few generations. The wall was glass and offered the viewer the skyline of Brussels from the La Zenne river to as far as the eye could see.

Leon said, leaning on the wall of the room. "Your benefactor pays you well. This room is easily five thousand a night."

"Money is no object. A drink?" Jessica set her hat on the hand-carved wood table.

"Of course."

"Take off the jacket, Mr. Kennedy. I won't bite…yet." She set her sunglasses besides the hat and turned to face him. The eyes were violet. And stunning. The face was stunning.

His were like the Mediterranean ocean. A wild, Celtic blue set off that shaggy hair's dark gold. She wondered what he tasted like.

Leon smirked and hung up his jacket. The shirt beneath was powder blue and silk. The cuffs were wide and open, the neck the same. The vest he wore was fashionable and deadly. She lifted a brow at the hardware in it.

"Were you thinking you'd need a grenade against me, Mr. Kennedy?"

"I was thinking you were a traitorous spy, Ms. Sherawat. I've played with plenty of them. Sometimes you need more than a grenade."

Jessica laughed softly, delighted. She said, "You've heard rumors about me. I'd love to hear them."

"I heard that you're a flirt. That you tried to seduce Chris Redfield…and failed."

Jessica sighed a little now. "Both are true. Although I've heard the same about you."

Leon lifted a brow now. "I've never tried to seduce Chris Redfield."

And she laughed again. "Why not? You might have gotten further with him than I did. He's a difficult man."

Leon snorted a little and shifted away from the wall. She offered him the drink she'd made. He took it and sipped, studying her pink, pink mouth.

Leon quipped quietly, "I suspect he's a eunuch."

Jessica looked delighted. "Is he? I thought he was gay."

"He might be. Why else would he turn you down?"

Oh. She liked that. Her face liked it. "Well, I'm a spy. Hadn't you heard? You don't sleep with the enemy, Mr. Kennedy."

"Are you the enemy? Depends on who's asking, I guess. I've played games that weren't entirely good guy squeaky. Maybe we're all bad guys."

Jessica shifted toward him. He didn't back up. The hem of her dress touched his pants.

"I gave the sample of T-Abyss to Excella Gionne. She hired me to steal it from the B.S.A.A. It was stolen from her by Lansdale, and she wanted it back. He used it to orchestrate the attack by Veltro. She'll have the rest of your answers on the why."

Damn Excella. He'd known, in his fucking bones, she was double-crossing him. He couldn't even be angry. He was more impressed than anything.

Amused, he studied Jessica again. "You gave that up pretty quickly. No games. Nothing. Why?"

Jessica sipped her wine and set it down. She reached over to take his scotch, and she sipped that too. "I'm not a bad guy, Mr. Kennedy. I am, however, a mercenary. So I will go where the paycheck is. Sometimes, I have a moment of seeing a better payout. Excella needed help. She paid me. I helped. She could use your help now, I'm sure. T-Abyss is frightening creation. It needs stopped. Working with Excella will stop it. The B.S.A.A was rotten. Dirty. I couldn't let them have it."

Leon watched her set down his scotch. She slid her fingers down his vest. He lifted a brow at her. "Chris Redfield is a good man. He's an idiot about girls. But he's a good man. He wouldn't have used the sample for evil."

"No. But his organization is rotten. It's safer with Excella." Jessica petted that slick leather on his chest. "And now it won't end up in the wrong hands again. Have I bought my freedom?"

Leon looked down into those violet eyes. "Not yet."

She looped her long fingers around his vest and drew him down to her. Her lip gloss tasted like cherries. It was honeysuckle and cherries. A heady mix. He'd kiss her all day if it ended with Jill beside him.

A hard truth that was readily accepted. He'd lost the ability to chase the higher ground.

She drew away, mouth swollen, "I heard that about you as well."

Gruffly, he answered, "What's that?"

"That you play with fire. Want to play with my fire, Leon Kennedy?"

He laughed a little, softly, "You trying to buy your freedom with your pussy, Ms. Sherawat?"

Jessica shivered at the dirty language. He'd pegged her for it right out the gate. A dirty girl. Dirty. He'd been trained to tune himself into the needs of his prey. He could kill you just as easily with words as with weapons.

She whispered, "Possibly. Is it working?"

Leon flashed a grin at her and answered, "Where is Jill Valentine?"

Surprised, Jessica let go of him. "...what?"

As she started to back up, he caught her wrist to drag her into him. She let him, amethyst eyes flashing with excitement, as he returned, "I know, better than anyone, what it means to need contacts on both sides of the law, Ms. Sherawat."

"...Jessica." She cooed it and licked his mouth. He let her because it didn't matter a damn anyway.

"I need to find Jill Valentine. Tell me you know where she is, and you leave here with your life, your freedom, and a friend in a high place that can make sure the other side never finds you again."

Jessica slid a hand around to grip his ass as she offered, "Excella isn't just playing savior, Leon...she's playing God. Ask yourself who she's playing with, and you'll know where to start looking for Jill Valentine."

He scanned her face until she finished, "There's only one man with enough balls to try to take over the world. You have a friend in red who can help you find him."

Wesker.

His jaw clamped shut as he let go of her arm. "What do you have on him?"

Pouting a little, Jessica shrugged and went to fix another drink, "Nothing more than you, I'm afraid. Excella is usually very protective of her playmates. I can tell you this - Valentine? She's not dead."

He'd known. He'd always known. But hearing it aloud? The truth made him dizzy. Leon put a hand on the bar, "Where is she?"

Jessica shrugged a shoulder, "You're gonna want to look into Ricardo Irving. He's their mule between Tricell and Wesker's underground organization. I'm pretty sure he fed them false intel to get them to that castle."

"How?"

"Because it's what I would have done too." She offered him the scotch, "I can get you in touch with Irving directly, but you're gonna need a reason. I suggest using Ada Wong for the first time in your life as an asset instead of a nuisance."

They held gazes as he took a sip of the scotch, "You seem to know a lot about me."

"...that's my job." Jessica offered him a cigarette from the slim silver case on the bar, "I might like to play, Leon..but I'm very good at my job."

He declined the cigarette as he went for the door, "Stay available, Jessica. I'll be in touch."

As he opened the door, she called, "You could be in touch all you want. Why don't you stay and offer me...terms of surrender?"

He could. He wasn't exactly a man who declined an easy lay. He'd spent his life avoiding anything real for many reasons but in the face of knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jill was alive somewhere out there?

He was no longer interested in anything but finding her.

So he snapped the door shut without another word.

He'd let a wanted traitor go free. On one hand, it was something that happened in their world every day. A necessary evil is fighting the bigger fish and letting the guppies swim free. He was usually irritated about the necessity of it.

Not today. Today, he'd have traded every last bit of his dignity to find a shred of proof that Jill was out there waiting. He was officially a man without a thing to lose. He'd beg, borrow, steal, lie, or trade whatever it took from now on to find her. They'd created the perfect machine to scorch the earth to find her. They'd trained him to do whatever it took to finish a job.

If he pushed that hard for business, what did they think he'd do when it was personal?

Apparently, the question that hung above him was this: What would he risk to save the woman he loved?

The answer? That was simple: Everything.

So he said, quietly into the dying sun, "Hold on, Jill...I'm coming for ya."