vicissitude
Title: vicissitudeFandom: Resident Evil
Series: Comrades to the End
Pairings: Leon/Krauser
Warnings/Rating: nothing of note if you've played RE4, but NSFW
Word Count: 7513
Disclaimer: If I owned it, Krauser would be alive.
Summary: Krauser has been missing for six months when Leon is sent to Spain.
“Go to Spain, they said. It'll be fun, they said,” Leon grumbles to himself as yet another ganado soldier tries to taser him. “Ashley is probably just acting out and you'll get a beach vacation. I wish I was on a damn beach in Barcelona. But no, I'm stuck in bumfuck nowhere with axes thrown at my head.”
His handlers had damn well known that this wasn't a vacation and he's still angry that they sent him off without his proper gear. The only reason he hadn't died in the first village was because he'd refused to leave the Spanish police station without a pistol at his side. Leon had planted his feet stubbornly until they gave in to the crazy American agent, giving him what he wanted just to get rid of him. But the extra weapons in the squad car had been lost when the cultists ran it into the river and the poor fools who'd been sent with him were killed almost instantly.
I'd have been fucked without that merchant, Leon thinks as pulls the Striker off his back, a few carefully placed shots clearing out the mob in front of him.
The agent still doesn't know who or what the merchant is. But he's not stupid enough to look a gift horse in the mouth - or in the creepy red-eyed stare as the case may be. If some rogue ganado wants to sell him weapons, Leon will accept that happily. It's the one bright spot in what has proven to be a shitty mission, the capstone of a truly shitty half a year.
God, I wish Jack were here.
Leon would have given anything for an ally at his back and he's never clicked with another agent the way he did with Jack. The other man's arm had healed up better than expected after South America, but still not well enough to go back into the field.
Instead Jack found a place as a consultant giving advice on fighting B.O.W.s. Survivors with that experience were still few and far between and the former soldier quickly made a name for himself with several agencies, including the budding BSAA. Jack had been in high demand and Leon was always happy to help with his work when he was home.
The agent is still surprised by how easy it was for them to build a life together. Inviting Jack to move in after South America is still one of the riskiest things he's ever done - and Leon fights monsters for a living. But he can't regret it, not when the other man had become his anchor almost instantly.
Suddenly Leon had someone to come home to and a reason to care if he did it in one piece. He had someone to laugh with and curl up on the couch with, someone who noticed when he forgot to eat. Plus the sex had been fantastic; a few rough spots here and there as they'd learned each other's preferences, but soon Jack became a master at taking him apart. And Leon did the same, studying his lover's weak points with the sort of focus he rarely spent on anything.
It had been good. For almost a year and a half, he'd actually been happy and then world had gone and kicked them in the fucking teeth.
The BSAA had asked Jack to join an undercover mission designed to gather information about a new player on the scene. It was to be an infiltration and Leon had a bad feeling about the idea from the start. But it had just been a feeling, nothing the agent could point to as solid evidence, and Jack had been wanting to do more to fight against B.O.W.s.
The other man had always sent him off on missions with a smile and was there to patch up his injuries when he returned. Leon had owed it to his lover to offer him the same support.
So the agent had given Jack a passionate sendoff and done his best not to worry as soon as he was gone. Indeed, Leon had almost convinced himself that everything would be okay until he'd returned from a mission of his own and found Chris waiting on his porch.
The man told him that Jack had gone dark three days before, that the trail was cold, that he was sorry, and Leon... well, Leon had done his level best to tear the world apart. First he'd socked Chris in the jaw - like hitting a brick shithouse - and then he'd started calling in every favor that he had. Jack wasn't dead. Leon wouldn't believe that until he saw a body and burned the corpse himself.
So the agent took his first vacation in about 5 years and used that time to travel to Jack's last known location. He talked to everyone who might have seen his lover; he refused as many missions as he could get away with and made his friends promise to keep looking when he couldn't say no anymore.
Leon had worked himself to the bone, done everything that he could think of, and he'd still found fuck all. Jack had disappeared from the world like a ghost, nothing left but the remnants of his presence scattered around the agent's house.
So if he's being honest, Leon knows exactly why he was sent to Spain like this. His agency was trying to get him to stop digging, stop pushing at the limits of his bonds. They wanted him to give up - or maybe just to die - and finally stop making trouble for the folks in charge.
That's why USSTRATCOM sent him, but Leon had accepted the mission because of Chris. The other man still felt guilty about Jack disappearing on his watch and he'd helped with the search as much as possible. So the agent listened when Chris passed on two rumors that he'd heard recently: that a man fitting Jack's description had been seen near Ashley Graham before she went missing and that Wesker might have agents in an obscure part of Spain. A slim hope, but it was the best clue that Leon had gotten in months and he wasn't too proud to grasp at straws if it meant Jack coming home.
However, so far all he's found in Spain is a splitting headache, a parasite inside his chest, and a reunion with an old acquaintance that he wasn't looking for.
Leon had heard that Ada was still alive, but seeing her was strange. The woman had barely changed since Raccoon City: still beautiful, still impractically dressed for the occasion, and still smugly mysterious. He'd almost felt like a Rookie again as Ada hinted that she knew everything and helped him for reasons she still refuses to explain. More than that, Leon saw a hint of sympathy in her eyes that worries him. But whatever secrets the woman holds, she hasn't spilled them yet.
For now, the agent is trying to focus on his mission, knowing that he can't afford to let his guard down for an instant. He doesn't regret helping Ashley - the poor girl is terrified and he's hardly going to let Saddler kill the president. But there's still part of Leon's heart that cares about one thing only: getting Jack home where he belongs.
It's a driving need within him as he cuts through Saddler's army, racking up an ever-growing body count. This island is even worse than the village and the castle: more ganados, more traps, too many Gatling guns and those damn Regenerators. Leon will hear that breathing in his nightmares for months after this.
The agent can barely find the time to reload, let alone a chance to rest. Nowhere is safe, not even near the merchant when it always was before.
So when Leon reaches a seemingly empty warehouse, his nerves keep on screaming high alert. Which is the only thing that saves him, lets him catch a hint of motion in the corner of his eye. He barely blocks the knife that follows, catching it against his own as something - someone - leaps down from above.
Leon feels a sharp pain across his cheek as the force of the blow knocks him backward and he lets himself move with it, rolling into a crouch before wiping the blood off his skin. It's only a small scratch but when he looks at his attacker, he feels like that knife found its target after all.
Because Jack is standing on the platform and yet that's not his Jack, not the man who smiled at him with quiet adoration across his coffee cup. It's not even the Krauser from South America, the two of them still learning how to fight together, but secure in the knowledge that his partner had his back. This is a perfect stranger who's wearing his lover's face and staring back at Leon with murder in his eyes.
“Surprised to see me, comrade?” the man asks and he sounds like Jack as well. “I died on a mission, that's what they told you, isn't it? Sorry to disappoint.”
“Disappoint me? Jack, I've been trying to find you for months,” Leon answers, his voice cracking on the words. This has to be his lover. No doppelganger could mirror his face so closely, that deep timbre in his words. “I wouldn't believe that you were dead. I refused to believe it when what felt like the whole world was saying otherwise... Jack, where have you been?”
“Pretty words. Pretty lies,” the other man scoffs. “But I know the truth and I can't let you stop our plans.”
With that, he lunges forward and Leon is slower than he should be as he blocks another stab. He feels like he's been shoved off a high tower without a parachute, this version of his lover now an anchor around his neck.
“It was really you, wasn't it... You're the one who kidnapped Ashley,” the agent says in disbelief. Only muscle memory lets Leon keep fighting as that revelation crashes over him. Muscle memory and a slim hope that he can break his lover free. Because this is Jack, he can't doubt that anymore. Not when the other man still fights the same, still moves the same, though his arm seems fully healed.
“You catch on quick, as expected. But you and I both know where we come from,” Jack sneers at Leon when they separate again.
“Why are you doing this? What do you want?” Leon replies, holding his knife at the ready. He feels like the two of them are having different conversations, like Jack has forgotten their entire history.
“The sample Saddler developed, that's all,” his lover replies. Then he strikes out at the agent, almost too fast to see. Leon's dodge is purely instinct, a defensive move that saves him any further injury.
“Jack, please. I don't want to fight you,” he begs.
“Then you'll die easy,” Jack scoffs before kicking a barrel from the floor straight into Leon's chest. He knocks it aside but his lover is already rushing him, their knives scraping together in a shower of sparks. Leon loses his footing as the other man bowls him over, tumbling off the platform toward the unforgiving metal down below. But the agent manages to twist into a roll, catching only minor bruises instead of a broken neck.
Jack lands heavily beside him and when the man's knife narrowly misses his throat, Leon knows that he can't stay on the defensive anymore. The agent doesn't know what happened to his lover, but if he doesn't meet him blow for blow, it's gonna be the end of him.
So Leon finally takes the offensive, pulling out every trick he has to gain the upper hand. The ring of steel fills the air as their knives dance together, deflecting each other's blows until Leon switches hands and slices Jack across his chest.
But at the sight of his lover's blood, the agent falters. Hurting the other man is the last thing he ever wanted and he doesn't press the advantage like he should. That hesitation gives Jack the chance to regain the upper hand and the other man doesn't share Leon's reservations. Every stab is ferocious, Jack's full might behind the blows, and he's never been able to match his lover on strength alone.
The two of them grapple with each other in a desperate clinch until Leon finally gives. Only slightly, his hand slipping, but that's more than enough. Jack kicks him to the floor and the agent's knife goes flying, slipping through his fingers before he can grab it back. Leon can only lie on the metal grate and look up at his former lover. Trying to catch his breath. Trying to understand.
“Why are you doing this?” he asks again. This has to be a mistake. This has to be a nightmare if only he could wake.
“All for Umbrella's sake,” the other man replies, almost to himself.
“Umbrella?”
That doesn't make any sense. Jack never cared about Umbrella; the company was dead and buried long before South America. Sure their old researchers were still causing trouble but there was nothing left of the old business to inspire loyalty.
“Almost let it slip. Enough talk, die comrade!” the other man shouts, leaping on top of the agent and driving down his knife. It's all Leon can do to catch his wrist and keep Jack from burying the blade into his heart.
“Stop, love. Don't do this,” Leon pleads. “Whatever happened, we can fix it. We'll sort it out together. I just want you to come home.”
For one brief moment, the agent feels Jack falter and the pressure ease against his hand. But then his eyes flash crimson and the other man redoubles his efforts, that wicked blade inching slowly down toward Leon's chest. Now the agent finds himself caught between joy and heartbreak. Because if he really saw that, if there's a plaga in his lover, then maybe he can save Jack after all. But Leon's strength is flagging and in a few more seconds, it won't matter anymore.
“Please!” he tries again. Yet this time there's no mercy, just a cruel sneer of hate painted on his lover's face.
At least I got to see you one more time, Leon thinks, the weight of his failures crushing him. Not just for Jack but for Ashley and all the death that Saddler's plan will bring. But then a shot rings out and suddenly the knife is gone.
“If it isn't the bitch in the red dress,” Jack growls as he leaps back to his feet, leaving Leon gasping where he lies.
“Looks like we have the upper hand,” Ada says from somewhere out of sight.
“For now. Our mutual employer won't be happy about this,” his lover retorts harshly. Then he swipes his blade from the floor and in one inhuman move, backflips onto a metal platform twenty feet above. If Leon hadn't already had his suspicions, that would've screamed infected loud and clear.
“You may be able to prolong your life, but it's not like you can escape your inevitable death, is it?” Jack growls, giving Leon one last glare before ducking from the room.
The agent takes a moment just to breathe before he pushes himself upright, picking up his own knife and turning to meet Ada's knowing gaze. He still feels like he's in shock, like he's looking at the world through a thin sheet of fog, but he'll be damned if he shows Ada unless he has no other choice.
“That was quite a reunion,” she says softly and Leon is so fucking done with this.
“I don't want to talk about it,” he snaps back. “I appreciate the rescue, but unless you can tell me how to fix him or where I can find Ashley, we've got nothing to discuss.”
“Krauser has always seemed quite loyal,” Ada answers, still with that same sly smile and a hint of sympathy. “But if anyone could turn him away from Wesker, I think it might be you. Give the man a reason to fight against his plaga and perhaps we'll both be pleasantly surprised.”
“Wesker? Maybe it's time you told me the reason why you're here.”
“Maybe next time,” Ada tells him before leaping off the ledge, disappearing into darkness the way she tends to do.
Leon is left standing there with nothing but a thousand questions and a piercing ache within his chest. It's a slim hope she's given him and if he fails, the agent doesn't know what he'll do next. Jack had looked good, physically at least. Same bleached blond hair, same pale blue eyes, muscles that Leon could sink his teeth into. But what did that matter if the man didn't love him? If he was just a shell around a plaga, nothing left but hatred where their life had stood.
So Leon buries his face in his hands and screams out his frustration, six months of pain, anger, and desperate loneliness. He screams until his voice dies into a whisper and then he pulls himself together because he has no other choice.
The agent doesn't know if he can truly save his lover, but he's already seen a chink in the plaga's control and he'll do whatever it takes to help Jack regain his mind. If all else fails, Leon will beat the man unconscious and drag him to the machine that Luis wrote about. Hopefully that will be enough to destroy a full-grown plaga, or at least control it, despite whatever fail-safes may have been put in place.
I knew that mission was a mistake. Wesker had probably contacted Saddler months before the BSAA sent in Jack and handed him the last piece of his grand plan.
“Well, he didn't count on me,” Leon mutters, trying to stay optimistic. “And I'm going to go get my damn man.”
---
Leon has seen his fair share of monsters. He's fought lickers, tyrants and lake monsters, not to mention the snake-headed Salazar. But he's never anything quite like 'It' before.
The creature is vaguely reminiscent of the Big Cheese that he killed earlier and it scuttles in a way that makes his skin crawl uncomfortably. Leon thinks he'd prefer fighting another three-story monstrosity, particularly once he finds himself in a psycho's hanging maze. At least in South America, the agent still had allies and space enough to run. But no scuttling long-tongued scorpion is going to stop Leon from finding Jack again.
So when the creature chases him off the hanging platforms, the agent pulls no punches. He just draws his magnum and plugs 'It' in the chest nine times. Then he calmly steps across its melting body and continues on his way.
Leon's path takes him through a veritable army of Saddler's minions, a twisting maze of stairs and pipes and far too many men with dynamite. At this point, he's lost count of how many ganados he's taken down, how many lives have been destroyed for Saddler's cause. He'd save them if he could, but it takes all of the agent's skill just to keep himself alive.
Aim. Fire. Reload.
Fire. Switch. Grenade.
Kick. Fire. Reload. Dodge that dynamite.
One mistake could kill him. One misjudged shot could be his last. Leon is exhausted now, stripped down to the bone, and it would be so easy to collapse right where he stands. It's only experience and stubbornness that keeps him moving forward, that and the driving beat of Jack inside his mind.
Leon hasn't seen his lover since their knife fight, but if he just keeps moving, he's sure that the other man will find him once again. Indeed, when the agent leaps down into a sand-covered ruin, Jack steps into view across the way.
His lover has removed his shirt now, chest painted with red lines, and Leon can't deny a rush of desire at the sight of that bare skin. It's been too fucking long.
“Ashley is beyond that gate,” Jack tells him, tilting his head to the north. “But you need three insignias to open it.”
“What are you gonna do, Jack?” Leon asks warily. Brainwashed or not, the agent knows that his lover won't leave anything to chance.
“There's one in the north and the other in the east,” the other man continues with a feral grin. This is a trap; the only question is when and where the hammer falls.
“And let me guess, you got the last one?” the agent says, playing along for now. If Jack has a trick up his sleeve, Leon had better be prepared with a trick of his own. So he slips his fingers slowly toward his belt while the other man is distracted by the need to monologue.
“You got it, comrade. And that means you're on a tight leash,” Jack agrees, arms still crossed across his chest.
“Sounds like you thought this one out pretty well,” Leon answers as his lover's hands start to move. But the agent is a little faster, yanking the grappling hook from his belt and throwing it in one smooth move.
He's not expecting to do damage. Indeed, the other man bats the hook out of the air easily. However, that move buys Leon a split-second to dash behind a pillar before Jack can open up with his TMP. Bullets ricochet off the stone next to his head, dust flying everywhere and he knows that both of them are playing for keeps for this time.
If I go for the insignias, Jack will come to me, Leon thinks before darting off into the ruins, his lover's insults echoing after him.
This place is another maze but most of the paths are blocked by fallen rubble and with Jack's rough directions, it's easy enough to figure out which way he needs to go. Leon just keeps heading north, his footsteps dogged with bullets until he reaches a locked gate.
The agent flicks the switch - of course it's on a timer - and then dodges to the side when he hears the scuff of boots against the dirt. Jack's knife flies past his shoulder, that wicked blade still aimed to kill. Leon keeps his distance as much as possible within the tiny building, using every inch of space he has to spare. The timer on the door counts down as he remains on the defensive once again, doing his best to fight with words instead.
“Jack, stop!” Leon pleads. “Wesker is at fault here and I know this isn't you.”
“Of course it's me,” his lover growls, another swipe barely missing the agent's head. “Strong, powerful, better. This is the person I was always meant to be.”
“Strong? You were always strong!” Leon snaps back, outraged on Jack's behalf. “You didn't need some parasite to make your life worthwhile. You don't need a trick to matter, not to me!”
“How would you know, comrade?” the man snarls and rushes forward. He's gotten even faster now, almost too fast to follow. But Leon deflects the stab and then throws his entire body weight into a sharp left hook.
“Because I love you, you asshole,” he shouts as his fist crashes straight into his lover's jaw. Jack staggers backwards, caught off guard, and Leon presses the advantage. He grabs the other man's wrist and darts into his space, leaning up to kiss him with everything he has.
“Please, Jack,” he murmurs against his lover's mouth. The man freezes solid at the touch, every muscle trembling, and his lips are as soft as in Leon's memories.
For one split-second, the agent thinks it worked. He swears that he feels the other man lean in. But then Jack wrenches free of Leon's grip. His lover's eyes are wild, burning red again, and he throws down a flash-bang before the agent can react. The light is blinding and by the time Leon blinks away the afterimages, Jack has disappeared.
Well, that could have gone worse, he thinks. Sure the other man is still trying to kill him, but Leon broke through the plaga's control at least temporarily. Should've known that kissing him was the best option here.
Jack has always been tactile, both of them more than a little touch-starved honestly. It had been a comfort response: a hand on Leon's shoulder, an arm around his waist - just the simple knowledge that someone else was there. And waking from a nightmare, touch was everything. Sleeping alone had been one of the hardest things about Jack being gone.
Perhaps his lover feels the same, somewhere beneath the plaga. He'll have to remember that when he finds Jack again.
Leon does a quick check of his gear while he waits for the door lock, making sure that every gun is loaded just in case. He has no plans to kill his lover, but who knows what other monsters are hiding in this place?
Once the gate clicks open, the agent travels deeper into the ruins. He can feel Jack dogging his steps the whole way, but whatever is controlling him must have realized that Leon made progress too. Because the other man doesn't get close again, not until the agent has picked up the first insignia and slipped it into his pouch.
Even then, Jack keeps the high ground, shooting mines from the upper level instead of pulling out his blade. Leon relies on dodging, firing his own shots here and there to throw Jack off balance, and he manages to avoid the worst of it. Nothing more than scrapes and minor shrapnel that he can shake off easily.
“How can you help Saddler?” Leon asks between explosions. “You've seen what the virus does.”
“You're right. I saw the power,” his lover answers, tossing aside his empty mine thrower and pulling out his TMP. “I saw the strength no human could ever hope to match.”
“But we did, love. We defeated Javier and we saved Manuela. Together we can take down Saddler too,” the agent tells him. “We'll set you free, Jack. The two of us as partners, like we were before.”
“I don't need a partner. I don't need anyone!” Jack shouts with a spray of bullets. Then he lunges down at Leon, the full force of that attack enough to crack his skull in two. But he slips around the punch, stroking one hand across his lover's wrist and pressing against his side.
“Then you don't need Wesker either,” Leon murmurs in Jack's ear. “We were something special, love. You were my foundation and I tried to be yours too.”
He manages to steal a kiss, still too brief by far, before the other man disengages with an elbow in his gut. Another inhuman leap takes Jack back to the rooftop and Leon throws himself behind a pillar to avoid the wild gunshots that cut through the air.
“Umbrella will bring order and balance to this insane world,” the other man declares, but he doesn't sound as certain as he did before.
“There is no perfect order, Jack,” Leon answers quietly. “But we'd built a life and we were happy. I just want you to come home.”
This time Jack doesn't reply. There's simply another flash and then he's gone again.
Leon sighs deeply, holding his aching side. The agent isn't sure if he actually made progress or if the plaga dug in deeper during that exchange. But he refuses to give up; he's never going to give up as long he's still breathing and there's a chance of victory.
--
Leon does not expect the robots. The first time a strange spider-like machine bursts from the sand and scuttles towards him, he almost doesn't react in time. Shooting is a reflex, his mind still stuck on What the fuck? and the resulting explosion nearly blasts him off his feet. He hits the wall hard, bouncing off the stone and adding to the collection of bruises on his skin.
The agent takes the next few turns more carefully and finds another handful of those robots scattered in his path. The things are fast and lethal, but thankfully they're fragile; a few well-placed bullets and they shatter easily.
The robots also prove that Leon is still moving in the right direction. Jack wouldn't bother to guard a place that didn't matter and the machines grow thicker towards the center of the ruins. Which, to be honest, is hardly a surprise.
This version of his lover seems to have bought into the supervillain shtick wholeheartedly and that tower is just screaming for an epic showdown in the rain. Not that it's actually raining, but the principle remains. It's also the only place that Leon hasn't managed to search yet and as expected, he finds the second insignia at the very top of the tower, lying on a rickety bit of wooden planking around the tower's edge.
Leon feels his lover's presence before he turns around, that familiar gaze a heavy weight upon his back. Indeed, he looks up to see Jack standing on the tower rampart, the other man looming over him.
“Only one insignia left,” the agent says. “Are you prepared to finish this?”
“Hmph, we'll see about that,” his lover scoffs before tossing away his TMP. That's the second time tonight even though Jack had never been one to treat his weapons carelessly. But it seems he doesn't need it anymore.
Instead, the other man raises his left arm toward the sky and Leon watches in shock as the flesh starts to writhe. The arm twists and grows before the agent's eyes until it shifts into a massive multi-bladed wing-shaped scythe.
“Witness the power!” Jack shouts triumphantly and Leon is torn between laughter at the melodrama and horror at what his lover has become.
“Oh Jack, what did they do to you?” he murmurs.
But the other man just laughs maniacally. He touches a device on his belt and Leon sees a countdown come to life upon the screen. Ticking rises up around the tower and when the agent glances through the wooden slats, he sees at least two bricks of C4 flashing red beneath his feet.
“Prepare to die, Leon!”
Come on, that isn't fair. The agent is forced to dive out of the way as the other man attacks, razor-sharp blades slicing through his sleeve. That new arm is lethal and apparently bulletproof, Leon's frantic warning shot deflecting off the skin.
He needs to get close, needs to drag his lover free before this whole place explodes. But that arm makes things damn difficult.
“Please, love. Please stop this,” Leon pleads, scrambling to dodge. Simply staying alive is taking most of his energy. He's forced to go on the offensive just to keep from getting gutted, driving Jack back with his knife and the Red 9.
Every strike seems to bring the plaga closer to the surface, the other man's eyes glowing brighter and his muscles rippling strangely underneath his skin.
“Don't you remember, love?” the agent tries again. “All those lazy mornings in my kitchen and long talks on the couch? We built a life together and it doesn't have to end.”
But the words seem to do nothing and he's running out of time. So Leon pulls the pin on a grenade and throws it at Jack's feet. He knows that it won't hurt him, but it knocks him arm out of the way just as the agent planned.
Leon seizes the opening and throws himself forward bodily. He manages one solid hug, burying his face in his lover's neck and wrapping him up tight. Jack is a familiar warmth within his arms, all that muscled skin firm beneath his hands, and Leon has missed this terribly. He feels his lover relax and for a moment, it's like he's holding his old Jack again.
Then that softness disappears and the agent has to let go, throwing himself into a backflip as Jack's arm cuts through the air where he once stood.
“Why won't you just die?” the other man roars, launching into a rapid series of kicks and slashes that Leon barely blocks. Jack's strikes are more erratic, he thinks he's getting through, but that counter on his lover's belt is still ticking down towards doom. Leon has to finish this. Either Jack breaks free or both of them will die here when the tower blows.
“You want to kill me, love? Then kill me,” Leon shouts, throwing caution to the wind and holstering his gun. “I'm not leaving here without you, Jack. So kill me or come home.”
In one last desperate move, he locks eyes with his lover, holding that red gaze without flinching. He doesn't let himself flinch even as the other man charges towards him, his left arm aimed to kill.
“I love you, Jack,” the agent says and then he closes his eyes, putting his faith in his lover one last time.
Leon feels a sudden pressure, then a sharp pain in his chest as the razor edge of Jack's arm cuts through his Kevlar into skin. It hurts, but not as much as knowing he was wrong.
But then the pressure disappears and there are two hands clutching his face, yanking him forward as familiar lips claim his again. Jack kisses him fiercely and Leon can only melt into the touch. He's missed this, missed the way the other man can overwhelm him and he deepens the kiss greedily. The agent gives a moan of protest when Jack pulls away, but his heart leaps when he opens his eyes and sees beloved blue staring back at him.
“I love you too. You reckless idiot,” Jack says, fingers stroking across his face. “I've missed you, sweetheart, and I'm sorry.”
“Sorry for wha-”
Before Leon can finish the question, his lover slips something into his hand and shoves him backwards, hard enough he nearly falls. Then Jack is shifting again, the blades of his left arm bursting through his skin. He seems to be struggling against himself, his movements strangely jerky as he catches Leon's gaze.
“Turn it off,” Jack orders and it takes the agent's frazzled mind a second to catch up. But when he glances down, the weight in his palm is his lover's detonator and the numbers are still quickly counting down. So Leon flicks the switch, his tension easing slightly as the ticking stops.
Until a flash of movement draws his eye and he looks back up just in time to watch Jack bury that deadly arm-scythe into his own chest.
“No!” Leon shouts in horror. “What are you doing?”
“Ending this,” Jack answers, smiling through bloody teeth. He digs the blade in deeper and then lets out a cry of triumph as a squirming parasite is dragged out of the wound. Just a piece of it, the head and trailing pincers, but Leon feels his gorge rise in his throat. That thing was in his lover and something similar is crawling inside him.
Jack flings the parasite to the ground, the chunk of flesh still squirming, and the agent is firing before he even thinks. He turns that bug to paste with half a dozen bullets and then he's running toward his lover as the other man collapses to his knees.
“Don't you die on me, you bastard. Don't you dare!” Leon demands, skidding to a stop at Jack's side. “You're not allowed to leave me, not like this!”
He grabs his lover around the waist when Jack starts to tilt and eases him down to the tower roof. Then Leon dumps out his attache case and scrambles through his supplies. He knew he saved all those herbs and first-aid sprays for a reason, hoarding his healing just in case.
“I'm glad I got to see you, sweetheart,” Jack rasps, crimson spilling from his lips with every word. “Glad I got to say goodbye.”
“Don't talk,” Leon orders. “You're not dying!” I'm not losing you again.
The agent shoves a packet of herbs into Jack's mouth, praying that the other man is still aware enough to swallow. Then he flicks the cap from a first-aid spray and starts to coat the wound. It empties far too quickly, making far too little difference. The injury is deep. It cuts straight through flesh and muscle to the bone and seeing that flash of white strikes Leon to the core. Although he's seen worse injuries, this is Jack, not some faceless enemy.
“Live, damn you!” he commands, his voice trembling audibly. The agent is shaking inside, shaking apart with grief and terror but his hands are steady. His hands are always steady after all.
Leon grabs another herb and feeds it to his lover, relieved to see that the first bunch is almost gone. Jack must be in terrible pain; his eyes are slitted closed and his breaths are labored. But the other man is conscious and he chews as best he can. The agent grabs his lover's hand and holds it tightly, trying to offer comfort even as he continues his desperate triage without pause. Leon uses up the second first-aid spray and grabs another, burning through his stash and gladly if it means that Jack survives.
And finally, finally, he starts to see a change. When the third can empties, the bleeding slows and flesh knits back together, new muscle covering the bone. That awful rattle disappears as Jack breathes easier and the red froth fades from his lips. The wound closes even further, skin healing before Leon's eyes until all that's left is a faint scar upon his lover's chest. And then that too disappears, Jack's skin now stained with blood but undamaged once again.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” the agent demands once he's sure the worst is over, the sheer relief making him light-headed. He smacks Jack on the shoulder and then throws himself across his lover's body, pressing them together head to toe. “Never do that again!”
“Sorry, darling,” the other man replies. He lifts his right arm to hug Leon tightly, a warm weight over his back. “I couldn't let myself hurt you.”
“You dying would've hurt me!” he retorts before pushing himself up to glare at Jack. “How do you think I'd feel to find you and then watch you die here in my arms? It's been a nightmare with you gone. It's been... fuck, I've missed you.”
“I missed you too, sweetheart,” Jack answers and Leon feels his face flush at the words. Something about that endearment has always flustered him. Or perhaps it's his lover's smile, that adoring tinge back on his face, and the hand stroking broadly over the agent's back. “I never meant to leave you. Wesker made me a puppet when that damn plaga took control. I tried to resist but it was futile and I'd rather die than kill you. I should've known you wouldn't let me go without a fight.”
“Damn straight,” Leon answers. He can't keep from choking up, his voice breaking on the words. He still can't believe he's here, that his mad plan actually worked. The agent keeps expecting to wake up back in the States and find himself alone again. “You're not getting rid of me, Jack, not that easily. Not unless that's what you want and you really mean it. Disappearing on a mission doesn't count.”
“Don't plan to do that again, I can promise that. But if things go to hell, I know I've got my personal prince charming on hand to rescue me,” Jack says. “I thought about you, darling. Sometimes the thought of you was all that gave me hope.”
The other man brings up his hand and strokes the agent's cheek, his gaze still reverent, and then somehow they're kissing desperately. Leon presses closer, needing to feel his lover's body, needing proof that this is real. He groans at the first tease of Jack's tongue against his lips, opening his mouth and letting the other man lick deep.
Jack tastes of blood and heat, each kiss rough and hungry as they move against each other. Leon is hard already, the feel of his lover driving him insane after so long without a touch. He rocks forward needily, gasping when his dick slides over Jack's hip.
The agent only pulls away when he runs out of air, panting into his lover's shoulder before he dives back in. Jack meets him kiss for kiss, mapping every corner of his mouth. The other man sucks on his bottom lip before sliding his hand down to cup Leon's ass. Jack squeezes firmly, the touch sending another burst of heat though Leon. He buries his moan against his lover's skin as Jack shifts him over, sliding the agent across his body under their legs are intertwined.
The other man takes his full weight without a sign of effort, his length hot and heavy against Leon's thigh. Then Jack rolls his hips, pulling him down at the same time. The agent groans as the motion rubs their cocks together, another spike of pleasure crashing over him.
They find a rhythm quickly, sloppy kisses and rough thrusts. Jack's fingers dig into his skin, breath hot against his lips. Leon rocks into him, moaning freely, his dick aching in his pants.
“Please Jack, please,” he gasps. The agent needs him closer, needs to feel him everywhere. Jack scent is all around him, his touch, the growling voice there in his ear. His lover can't stop kissing him, wet and deep and filthy, a sharp contrast to the sweet words murmured against his skin.
“Come on, love. I've got you,” Jack whispers and Leon falls instantly.
That's a promise from his lover, a safety he's been missing, and it's relief as much as joy that carries him away. The agent comes with a loud cry, lost to heat and pleasure and the warmth of Jack's body under him. Because the other man holds him just as promised, supporting Leon as he lets go for the first time in far too long.
Then Jack is chasing his own pleasure, arm tightening around Leon's waist when he thrusts up again. His lover is stunning like this, his face a mask of rapture as he spills between their bodies finally.
Then the two men collapse together, lying on the stone with Leon still sprawled across Jack's chest. He's utterly exhausted, bruised and beaten up, and yet he feels better now than he has in months.
“I can't remember the last time I came in my pants,” his lover murmurs, laughter in his voice. “We might regret that soon.”
“Eh, this outfit is a lost cause,” Leon answers and he knows he's smiling. The agent feels boneless, giddy, and light with happiness. “Pretty sure I'm gonna burn my clothes once we're finally free and clear. At least this mess was fun to make.”
“Fair enough,” Jack says with another chuckle. Then the other man tugs Leon a little closer, curling around his lover carefully. The two of them still fit together like they always used to do. “Can't say that I regret it. It's too damn good to see you, sweetheart, and I needed this.”
The other man kisses his hair softly, seemingly unbothered by the utter filth that's coating him. “But I should probably mention, I'm not sure if I can change my arm back. You might be stuck with this.”
Jack raises his left arm, spines scraping off the stone as he holds it awkwardly. But Leon just reaches out and gently grabs between the blades, pulling the arm closer to rest across his back. Like this, that strange winged scythed almost feels like a blanket, the two of them wrapped up in their own cozy world.
“I don't care about your arm,” Leon tells his lover and he means every word. “Whatever happens, we''ll figure it out.”
They can't stay here forever. There's still Ashley to save and his own plaga to take care of. But the agent can spare a couple minutes to recover and frankly he's earned some cuddling.
So Leon tucks his face into Jack's neck and makes himself more comfortable. Because this is home. Not that empty house back in the states, not some agency stopover where he briefly lays his head. Wherever Jack is, that's home, and Leon has missed his terribly.
End