Chapter Text
Leon let out a drunken grumble as he fumbled for the key to his hotel room. He staggered slightly on his feet as he swiped the card and pushed his way into the room.
This vacation was such bullshit.
He was supposed to be on vacation! For God's sake. Then Chris fucking Redfield and Rebecca Chambers showed up at the bar he was drinking at practically demanding his help.
Again. He was on fucking vacation!
He'd lost a whole team of men to that particular bio-weapons attack, and worse he had to take matters into his own hands in order to finish them off. He'd dealt with countless threats to this country, and still they ask for more.
When would it stop?
“It'll never fucking stop Kennedy.. an’ you know it.” He groused to himself as he stumbled into the room. His other hand clenched around the bottle of Jack Daniel's he had brought back with him.
He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto the bed before setting the booze down on the desk. He staggered sluggishly to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
After an intense argument with Redfield over his responsibilities to his country, an session of frankly irritating guilt tripping, Leon had told Chris and Rebecca to fuck off. He'd tipped his bartender and left the establishment to go back to his hotel.
“Stupid fucking Redfield.. shoulda punched him in the face.” he grumbled, words slurring.
He began to unbutton his shirt, his fingers sliding over a few buttons in his drunken state before he managed to slide it out of its eyelet.
Chris didn't understand. He could never understand.
Leon stripped off his shirt and let it fall to the floor. He began to work on his belt but paused as he met his reflection in the mirror. He stared back at himself, his fingers tentatively reaching up to run over the scar over his heart from where Luis's machine had dealt with the Las Plaga he had been infected with in Spain. The pink puckered flesh was soft yet gnarled beneath his finger tips.
Deep down, he knew that he should have helped Redfield… but he just wasn't in the right place right now.
Maybe he'd think about it in the morning.
He unbuckled his belt and unfastened his jeans pulling them and his black boxer briefs down and kicking them aside before stepping underneath the shower spray. Leon let out a soft groan as the hot water caressed his sore and tense muscles.
That felt nice.
His mind began to wander as he took the time to wash himself off and wash his hair.
Raccoon City… USSTRATCOM… months of grueling training that nearly killed him… Spain… Tall Oaks… the President... all those people….
He needed another drink.
Leon heaved a sigh as he turned the water off. He stepped onto the dainty rug in front of the shower and grabbed a towel off the rack to wrap around his waist.
“Fucking Redfield, calling me a government lapdog… he's the BSAA's ponyboy.”
He moved back into the main room snatching the Jack Daniel's off the desk and taking a huge indulgence off of it. The way it burned his tongue and throat on the way down told Leon that it was working.
Honestly, he just wanted to drink until he passed out.
If he was lucky, which he was not, he wouldn't wake up.
He shook the bottle gauging how much was left. The amber liquid swished at the sides and Leon scowled.
Half a bottle.
He shrugged.
“Cheers.. I guess… or wha'ever.”
With that Leon tipped the bottle up and chugged the rest of it. It burned. Fuck it burned. But he didn't stop until it was gone. He slammed the bottle down on the desk again with a small gasp of air and his body shuddered at the strength of the alcohol.
Not bothering to get dressed and still clad in only a towel, Leon flopped down on the bed. His head was pounding but the alcohol was starting to numb his senses. Sighing, he rolled onto his side and sluggishly grabbed his phone off the nightstand, groaning when saw twelve unread texts and three missed-calls all from one Chris Redfield.
“Stupid sexy Redfield….” Leon's word came out slurred.
The DSO agent didn't even check the texts, he just put his phone on the charger and turned off the lamp to try to get some sleep. It didn't take long for him to pass out.
Leon startled awake with a sharp gasp as something grabbed him by the hair wrenching his head back. Still intoxicated, Leon swung his elbow back to try to hit his attacker in the ribs, only to be left gasping for air as thick leather was wrapped around his throat. His hands came up, clawing at what he realized was his own belt.
What the fuck!?!
The belt yanked back, tightening punishingly and he was dragged off the bed onto the floor. He was rolled onto his stomach and he felt a weight drop and settle in the middle of his back.
“Hnngh! St…op!” He rasped desperately.
He couldn't breathe!
There was a laugh. A woman's laugh.
Leon furrowed his brow, drool dripping from his chin as he continued to try to suck air into his burning lungs.
His head was wrenched back and he saw the glint of metal briefly just as he started to black out. Something, a pressure dragged over the front of his throat and words were being whispered into his ear and then his head was slammed into the floor.
The belt loosened and Leon's fingers scrabbled beneath the leather pulling it away. He thought he'd be given a reprieve of air but he still struggled, his mouth gasping in desperately for gulps of air but it still felt not enough. He paused looking down as he realized there was blood on the pristine white hotel sheets.
Blood?
He looked at his hands and his eyes widened in horror as he realized they were absolutely covered in blood.
Leon reached a trembling hand up to his throat. It was slick with blood… so much of it.. pulsing from a massive gash in his neck.
“Arias sends his regards.” the cold female voice reached his ears.
He heard her boots on the floor as she retreated and soon the hotel room door opened and closed as she left.
That fucking bitch!
Leon waited for several moments, making sure she wouldn't return. The pool of blood beneath him grew larger and larger until finally he mustered up what strength he had and forced himself off the blood soaked carpet. He clamped one hand over his throat, feeling the blood pulsating through his fingers.
Fuck fuck… I need to… need to close this…
With much effort he managed to get to his hands and knees, the towel coming loose from his waist but he didn't care. He staggered to the desk and started digging through the drawers, blood, his blood smearing across the wooden surface.
A notebook, tape, a phonebook… super glue….
His eyes darted to the small tube of glue and he grabbed it with a shaky hand. He turned around and stumbled disoriented back into the bathroom grabbing his com on the way. He put the com, now covered in blood, on the counter and unscrewed the glue.
He turned to look in the mirror at the wound but the sudden glare of the florescent lights catching the reflective surface when he turned his head too fast disoriented him and he Leon's head spun. The vertigo made him lose his grip on the counter, his hands causing a faint almost comical schreeching noise as his blood slicked fingers slid along its surface. He crashed unceremoniously into the wall on the way down. His vision blurred and he could feel his strength leaving him.
He coughed up a mouthful of blood and blinked tiredly.
Shit he was losing so much blood.
Trying to focus, Leon reached his fingers up to feel the wound, trying to find the source of the bleed. He hissed sharply as he tried to line up the cut without being able to look at it in the mirror.
Now or never.
He squirted the glue along the gash one small section at a time and pinched the skin tightly for several seconds before letting go and repeating the process several times.
By the time he was finished his fingers felt numb and a bone freezing chill was starting to become noticeable to him.
Cold after blood loss... Not a good sign.
Leon sat there for several minutes, nodding off occasionally but finally he gathered up enough strength to crawl back to the counter and got halfway up onto his knees, leaning against the side of the counter as he reached his arm up for his com. Thankfully, his long arms made that easy and he found the blood soaked device. Breathlessly, he moved back to the wall, leaning against it to help support his body.
He put the com into his ear and pressed the button to power it on. It beeped with a blue indicator light flashing.
“H-Hunnigan… are you there?”
There was silence for several moments and Leon could swear he could hear his own heartbeat.
“This is... Agent Leon Kennedy… over…”
There was a beep and the amount of relief that filled him when he heard his handler's voice was otherworldly.
“Leon, aren't you supposed to be on vacation?”
He let out a laugh, wet, as he coughed up more blood.
“This is some shitty vacation..” he rasped out.
She seemed to hear the distress and pain in his voice.
“What do you need? Talk to me.”
“Medical…” he whispered fighting his darkening vision. “Call Redfield…”
“Chris Redfield?”
“Yes.. he was here earlier.. he might... might still be in town.”
He could hear her typing on her keyboard as a tense silence settled between them. Leon's eyes drooped as he felt his strength waning.
“Leon.”
His eyes snapped back open. “Yes?”
"How bad is it?"
Leon lifted his head to look at the state of the bathroom and he blinked at the realization that all of this blood, all over the place, was all his.
"I'm.. losing a lot of blood..." he trailed off into his honest answer. "It's everywhere."
“You hang in there. I got medical enroute.” her voice was etched with concern.
Leon didn't respond he just disconnected the call.
He hoped Redfield made it in time.
Great, he gets to see me butt ass naked and covered in blood. How attractive...