Chapter Text
There was land on the horizon, but Leon could barely see it. The morning sun on the choppy waves rendered it little more than a black smudge amid a dazzle of orange and white.
The sweat in his eyes wasn't helping.
Neither were the tears.
Tears, unshed, of exhaustion, of a rapidly crashing hours-long adrenaline high, of the pain in his head and his broken ribs and in the cuts on his chin and his leg and his hand.
And maybe, if he let himself examine the feeling, tears of loss and disappointment.
You coming?
Good thing he was too tired to think about anything other than holding this jet ski steady toward the dark blur on the blazing horizon.
Behind him, Ashley was slumped against his back, her head lolling but her arms tight around his waist.
The salt air was thick and bracing. He breathed slow and deep, feeling each time like he hadn't gotten quite enough of it. It coated the inside of his lungs, cool and soothing on the itch deep in his chest, the one he hadn't been able to scratch since the lake.
A crackle of static interrupted his trance. "Leon!"
Leon slapped a hand to his ear. "Hunnigan!?"
"Oh, thank god." She sounded as exhausted as he felt. "You've been off the grid for most of the night. Do you have—"
"Yeah, I've got her."
"He's got her!" Hunnigan said, and Leon winced as a staticky cheer roared over the line. He let go of the jet ski's throttle to better hear her.
"Hunnigan. Fuck—Roost. We need an extraction. Quarantine zone, level one. Medical, priority three."
"Copy that, we're already getting it set up. I've got a bead on your location, I'll radio directions. Are you with Condor Five?"
"Would that be Mike?"
"Affirmative."
Leon hung his head. "He's dead. They took his chopper down."
"Condor Five is down," Ingrid Hunnigan repeated to someone behind her. "But Condor One, I read you a mile off the coast."
"Baby Eagle and I are on a jet ski."
"Copy that. Coordinates incoming. Hang in there, Condor One. We'll get you out."
"We'd appreciate it."
"Roost out."
"Roost, wait."
"What is it?"
Leon glanced behind him. Ashley's eyes were glassy, and though she looked up right away it took a moment for her gaze to focus on him.
"... Hurry it up, will you? Baby Eagle is starving, and I'm all out of birdfood."
"Copy that, Condor One. Double-time."
Leon tapped his ear radio again. Ashley scoffed and swatted his shoulder. "'Baby Eagle.' I'm going to have to talk to my dad about that."
Leon chuckled. "Go easy on him, OK? He had almost as bad a night as we did."
He started the jet ski up again and for a moment they rode with the roar of the engine crowding out all room for thought. Then Ashley said, "Leon?"
"Yeah?"
"You said something about a quarantine zone?"
"Yeah."
"Do you think we're still…"
Leon cut the engine again, and this time he turned around fully to face Ashley.
"Luis knew what he was doing," said Leon softly. "I trust him. But we've got to follow the protocol." He forced a smile. "If we don't, I'll have a lot of paperwork to fill out."
She matched his smile. "Well I wouldn't want that."
"I appreciate that."
She took a deep breath. "Guess you were right. Mission's not over until we're home safe."
"That's the job."
It took another hour of driving before the shore came into focus. Hunnigan's coordinates had led them to a dock on what looked like a public park, but which was now almost wholly covered in large white plastic tents. At the edge of the dock, waving to them, were several figures in blue plastic hazmat suits.
Ashley shivered a bit at the sight of them.
"Trust Luis," Leon said softly as they pulled in. "We survived those cult freaks. We can survive this."
They were right by the dock now. Leon killed the engine and let the jet ski drift in.
"Miss Graham!" shouted one of the hazmat-suited figures.
"That's one of my Secret Service guards," Ashley said. Her voice has gone froggy, with emotion or dehydration Leon couldn't tell.
The Secret Service operative reached out a gloved hand as they neared the dock. Reluctantly, Ashley unwound her arm from Leon's chest and reached back.
As the jet ski bumped gently against the dock, the operative and a second hazmat suit half-helped, half-hoisted Ashley up and out. Leon watched, his eyes inexplicably prickling again, as the operatives guided her into a folding chair set up for the purpose. One handed her a bottle of water, another an unwrapped energy bar.
"Agent Kennedy!"
Leon winced against the morning sun as another hazmat suit loomed over him. He couldn't make out the face, but he knew the voice.
"Hunnigan. It's a new B.O.W."
"Let's get you off that thing first." Hunnigan reached out a hand. Leon took it, and paused. Getting off this jet ski suddenly seemed like a daunting task. Hunnigan crouched and braced her legs. "Come on, Leon. Doctor—"
Yet another hazmat suit appeared—this one bearing a middle-aged man with graying temples. The man stepped one leg down onto the jetski, the better to grasp Leon's other elbow, and together he and Hunnigan hoisted Leon up onto the dock.
Leon tried to find his feet but the gash above his knee from Krauser's knife, crusted over during the ride, suddenly wrenched open again. His knees buckled as pain screeched through his leg. Hunnigan and the doctor could only slow his descent as he sank down onto the dock.
"It's a parasite," he continued through a grunt of pain he couldn't suppress.
Beside him, the doctor uncapped a bottle of water and held it to Leon's lips. He took it and swigged as Hunnigan said, "Just the highlights, Leon. We'll do a full debrief later."
"They call it Las Plagas." Suddenly he felt so out of breath. He gathered himself to continue, "That's what Ashley—Miss Graham—and I were infected with. We think we were able to purge it using… using tech developed for the purpose."
Beside them, the two Secret Service officers helped Ashley back to her feet. "We're going to take her to the decontamination shower."
"Copy that," said Hunnigan. "Agent Kennedy, you'll go next."
Ashley hesitated, twisting around to look behind her. "Leon…"
"Go on," Leon said, trying for a smile he wasn't sure actually made it to his face. "I'll catch up."
"Who's behind it?" Hunnigan asked, as Ashley and her agents disappeared into the nearest plastic-draped tent. "Did you get names?"
"Osmund Saddler," said Leon. The hazmat doctor shone a light in his eyes and Leon winced. "He's the psychopath behind it all. Ran a cult called Los Illuminados."
"Definitely a concussion," said the doctor.
"Their money guy was an inbred aristocrat named Ramon Salazar," Leon persisted, ignoring him. "And… Major Jack Krauser. He was with them. He's the one who took Ashley."
"Major Krauser… the war hero? Are you sure?"
"Very."
"Okay…" Hunnigan was writing in a notebook. "What do we need to know about this parasite? What does it do?"
"Depends on the type." The doctor nudged the water bottle toward Leon's face again and he drank impatiently. "Dominant, or Subordinate. Dominant type infection… gives full control over those infected with Subordinate."
"Is that how they got Krauser?"
"No, he.... he wasn't being controlled. " Leon held his chest. It was so hard to catch his breath. "His parasite was… Dominant type. He wanted… wanted it."
"Ma'am," said the doctor. "Agent Kennedy is concussed, he's exhausted and severely dehydrated, he's suffering a severe adrenaline crash. I suspect severe bruising and some broken ribs as well. He needs rest."
"Sounds severe," Leon muttered.
"Of course, Doctor," said Hunnigan. "Leon, you've done so well. We'll take it from here. But—is there anything else we need to know now?"
Leon took a breath. Held it. Then sighed. "Ada Wong. She was on site. She escaped with a sample of Dominant Plaga, about two hours ago. Black Nighthawk helicopter, heading northeast."
"Ada Wong. That name sounds familiar."
"She was in Raccoon City."
"That's right. She was one of the survivors. You're sure she had a sample?"
"I tried to secure it. I… I prioritized Ashley's safety."
"What does she want with it?"
Luis and I had an arrangement.
Luis wouldn't have wanted Plagas out in the world. If he made a deal with Ada, was she working on the side of the angels?
Or had she lied to Luis?
Like she lied to you.
Leon's vision blurred. Ada had the worst bioweapon since the T-Virus, and he had let her walk away. Hadn't put up a fight at all. Sure, he'd been exhausted. Sure, it was Ada.
Ada, who had planned to sell the G-Virus, back in Raccoon City.
The thought of Las Plagas on the bioweaponry black market made him dizzy. He'd thought it was over, but what if it had just begun?
She'd played him again.
"I… don't know."
"Okay, debrief over," said the doctor. "Agent Kennedy needs rest and space. Let's get him to the shower."
Hunnigan patted his arm. "You did well, Leon." The kindness in her voice made his stomach twist. Then she stood and walked away, already speaking into her headset.
"Nighthawk helicopter, heading northeast…"
"Come on, son," said the doctor. "On your feet."
"Easier said… than done."
The doctor and another hazmat suit hoisted Leon to his feet, pulled his arms over their shoulders, and made their way to the tent.
Later, he wouldn't remember the next hour. Wouldn't remember stripping off his dirty, torn clothes and standing under the chemical spray of a field shower. Wouldn't remember the doctor returning to gently switch the shower off and guide him out again because he'd been standing in a daze, grateful for the way the cold liquid blasted all thoughts from his head.
Wouldn't remember his weak protests as they toweled him off, wrapped him in a hospital gown, and took him to an adjoining tent to lie down on a medical gurney.
He would only remember the doctor's eyes, blurry behind the sheen of his glass-plated hazmat mask, saying, "Concussion… keep him awake…"
And then nothing.