Chapter Text
Chapter 1
“Agent Kennedy.”
The woman spoke coolly, disdainfully.
“Ms. Graham.” He replied, matching her tone.
“I hope you’re ready to die with your ship.”
He arched a brow, otherwise non-reactive. “Idle threats don’t scare me.”
She raised her weapon.
“B-9.”
The red peg in her hand descended to the game board. He shook his head ruefully. “Damn…hit. Alright, you got me, Ash.”
Normally, she blushed at least a little at the affectionate nickname, but flush with victory, perhaps it went unnoticed. “Yes! I told you I was good at Battleship, Leon!”
Her bubbly laugh was infectious, and he couldn’t keep a small grin off his face, dropping their faux-dramatic play acting from earlier. “A woman of many talents.” he acknowledged. “Well,” he shrugged, “Another game goes to Baby Eagle. Shall we head off to our next exciting date with the– what is it this afternoon, X-ray? MRI?” he asked, offering his arm with an exaggerated gallantry.
“How chivalrous, Sir Kennedy!” she giggled, hooking her arm around his. “And it’s a CT scan.” She gave a tiny shudder, almost unnoticeable had their arms not been intertwined. Some of the good humor wearing off, she sighed. “I hate having my head in those machines. It always feels a little too much like Luis’ lab, y’know?”
He couldn’t relate, given that he’d been unconscious during his plaga removal. A pang of guilt twisted his gut as he recalled that she’d had to haul his unconscious body into the chair and then remove his own parasite seconds after undergoing the traumatic process herself. But he couldn’t forget her anguish as the radiation had killed the parasite wrapped around her spine, and he squeezed her arm gently.
“If you want me to hold your hand again,” he said teasingly, trying to lighten the mood, “you can just ask.”
She looked up and met his gaze, chewing her lip slightly. Her emerald eyes sparkled with… relief? Excitement? It was hard to place exactly what, but he looked away, uneasiness settling into his stomach. The problem with teasing her now was that there was no danger, no excuse to get out of it. The playful banter they’d exchanged in Spain was a little too reflexive for him, and not for the first time he wondered if it was a bad idea when he couldn’t just dispel it by uttering “we should keep moving.”
“Would you?” she asked tentatively. Quietly, she continued. “It does help, actually. Knowing you’re there for me.”
He certainly couldn’t refuse her, not after he’d been the one to bring it up. He had trouble saying no to her in the best of circumstances, and that was part of the problem. “Of course, Ash. I’m still at your beck and call until you’re home safe and the mission’s over.” He joked, trying to clear whatever emotion it was that was hanging over the situation and return things to a light, uncomplicated baseline he was more comfortable with.
Leon’s problem was that he couldn’t stop making dumb jokes to save his life. “As long as you’ll hold mine?”
Meant in jest, he just couldn’t stop making a complicated situation worse. Her smile was radiant as she beamed back “Of course, Agent Kennedy !”
The uneasiness in his stomach intensified as he thought again that he was getting himself in over his head.
_______
They were in the second week of an indefinite quarantine, although from past experience Leon expected it to be at least a month, if not more. “We just want to make sure there are no after-effects,” the doctors had said upon his debriefing after Valdelobos, “after all, Las Plagas is an previously unknown parasite, and with all due respect to you and Ms. Graham, we can’t be certain that amateur removal in a warehouse laboratory of all places is sufficient to guarantee its eradication. We can’t risk any contamination to her father.”
So they waited. At least after the first week, they were no longer separated. In the couple days they’d been in Spain, he’d gotten used to having Ashley at his side, where he could keep her safe and her absence put him on edge. He’d paced the room like a caged animal at first, unable to turn off the gut feeling that came crawling back from Salazar’s castle, that he’d failed again and she’d been taken.
It took all the restraint he had to maintain the cold, disaffected composure that he put up every time Secret Service agents in full hazmat gear had come by not to demand, even beg for scraps of information on her condition.
The blood tests, the observation rooms and sterile medical surroundings, it had all been a little too reminiscent of the NEST under Raccoon City and he felt nearly naked without so much as a knife to defend himself. The solitude between examinations had been getting to him; full body cold sweats, every muscle wound tight like a coiled spring, eyes darting around the empty hospital room in the dark, looking for signs of the infected– be they t-Virus or Las Plagas , ears straining to pick out the chanting of cultists or the clicking talons of a Licker on linoleum flooring.
Worse still was the feeling that Ashley was in danger, that he had let someone down yet again. That she had been taken by doctors– whose faces he could not help but see as Annette Birkin, Osmund Saddler– now serving as a testbed for their latest in horrific, flesh-twisting experimentation. Normally, when the past started welling up around him, clouding his thoughts, he would simply drown it in alcohol, drinking himself insensate until the memories quieted. In the hospital, there was no such respite from the episodes.
On the fourth day– a quiet one with few tests but no shortage of dread, he’d carefully, deliberately taken his elbow and smashed a mirror in the room. Taking the largest shard of glass and wrapping it in medical tape and gauze for a makeshift knife, he’d attempted to map out the facility, planning the best routes of escape and trying to determine where Ashley was being held. He told himself it was just being prepared.
Except she wasn’t being detained anymore. They were safe. Weren’t they?
He didn’t let go of the shard, even though it irritated the still-healing wound on his hand where a Saddler-controlled Ashley had cut him. Dull red started to seep through the bandages. He’d reopened it again, but judging by the amount of blood, not by much.
When they’d been reunited, finally, at the end of the week, she noticed the blood. Of course she did. He could see the guilt in her eyes, but he reassured her that it was just slow to heal. She didn’t look convinced entirely, but she didn’t pry. He didn’t want her to see. He never did well the first few days after an assignment ended, but it would be fine. Probably.
__________
After the first week of strenuous testing, they’d been moved out of minimal, uncomfortable hospital rooms filled with monitors to slightly nicer accommodations– an isolated, private hotel wing for VIPs, Secret Service in plainclothes as “private security” keeping any trespassers out (but rarely interacting so as not to catch whatever zombie virus the President’s daughter and her “boyfriend” had picked up overseas ). They’d been snuck in the back, and were not allowed to leave– proper hospitals were out of the question lest the First Daughter’s circumstances get out to the press. They would have both preferred their freedom, but hotel suites with moderate creature comforts were a leap up from stone castle floors and dank, moldy dungeons.
Leon had been surprised to find they were adjoining rooms with a door in between– that had not been mentioned. He supposed nobody had bothered to look into it that thoroughly; he recalled someone in Ashley’s detail saying off-handedly, “Kennedy can sweep the rooms, he was assigned to the President’s detail before babysitting. He knows how.” Of course he had done so. It was irritating that he had to, but some people in various agencies dismissed him because of his age, looks and mostly classified experience– those without the proper clearance got a file on him that made it seem like he’d benefited from some sort of nepotism. He’d heard it whispered more than once “Leon Kennedy? And you don’t think that has anything to do with how he got here? ” as if the birth parents he’d had for less than five years before their demise had been members of America’s most infamous political dynasty rather than part of Chicago’s Irish Mob. So he swept the rooms for bugs when they’d moved in, disgruntled the whole while; but if you wanted something done right, it was better to do it yourself anyway.
The doctors still called them to the hospital proper for occasional testing, meeting with therapists, brief exams and the like, but mostly they were waiting out the clock and making sure there wasn’t a dormant part of the plaga that might still be effective. They were deemed “fit for self-monitoring” and sequestered, ordered to provide blood samples and other diagnostics every other day. Hence the board games and TV.
The gentle domesticity of it all did wonders to put Leon at ease. Ashley was alive . She was fine and healthy and alive despite everything they’d seen those dark few days in Valdelobos. The nightmares passed temporarily for him, then for her, and they helped each other stay awake when they came back, talking about nothing and everything when neither of them wanted to admit they were afraid to sleep.
It felt like the days after Raccoon City where it was just Leon, Claire and Sherry in motel rooms across the midwest, trying to put the horrors they’d seen behind them. A difficult time, sure, but one that had given him a family. The sense of deja vu jolted him into remembering he should probably try to get in contact with them, it had been a while since they’d spoken.
He’d tried to call Claire, per their tradition of playing phone tag to let each other know they’d survived yet another harrowing experience, but she was out of the country and he’d had to leave a message.
He dialed the next number on his list, zoning out a little and not hearing a gentle knock on the door from the adjoining room.
__________
Ashley had managed to convince their Secret Service detail to allow a delivery of fresh groceries– she and Leon were both getting sick of bad takeout, and tonight they had decided to cook something together.
She’d knocked on the door, but hearing no answer, she tried the knob gently. He usually left the door between their suites unlocked, and today was no exception.
She saw him on the phone, lifted the bag of groceries to show off her prize, and mouthed a question. “Should I come back later?”
He gave her a wave to suggest it was fine, so she tiptoed past him to the kitchen to unpack everything. After she’d let slip that she primarily ate fast food and instant noodles like any college student living in the dorms might, he’d promised to teach her how to make “real food”, and he’d seemed so excited at the opportunity that she didn’t have the heart to tell him it was mostly out of convenience and not any lack of ability. It was kind of cute in a dorky way.
She started prepping the ingredients, dicing mushrooms and crushing garlic with the flat of the knife. It was hard not to eavesdrop on his call a little bit, and who could blame a girl? The first person Special Agent Leon Kennedy called after a mission– how could she not be intrigued? Honestly, after everything she had seen in Spain, a nice bit of gossip would be a refreshing breeze of normalcy. Anything to keep her mind off of what she’d seen, what she’d done– all of a sudden the heavy weight of Leon’s combat knife in her hand sprung back into mind as she remembered Saddler puppeteering her into slashing Leon and, shaking, she had to put the kitchen knife down. Holding the edge of the counter firmly, she exhaled as forcefully as she could without drawing attention. It’s okay to be afraid. But I’m not running. I’m moving forward. She was stronger now. She looked at the knife warily, almost as though it would bite her. Moving forward, Ash, come on. She exhaled again, and started dicing.
Thankfully, she heard Leon from his living room, and the distraction helped her push through the tight, choking feeling welling up in her chest.
“Yeah, is Sherry there? Tell her it’s Leon.”
A woman? Perhaps a girlfriend, or a wife? Juicy gossip… Ashley raised an eyebrow to herself. She wasn’t deluding herself that she didn’t have a little crush on Leon, but she knew there was no way a man that pretty wasn’t involved with anyone. She was shocked he hadn’t mentioned anyone sooner, but as they became friends in quarantine she realized he was kind of just… like that. It was more surprising when he DIDN’T use humor to deflect, and she’d gotten to know him a little, but he didn’t really open up. A look behind the curtain of her mysterious new friend was too tantalizing to pass up– she told herself she’d be just as curious with any of her girls back home.
“Hey Sher, it’s me. Yeah, I just got back from Spain– I can’t really talk about it over an unsecured line, but I’ll fill you in later. You talked to your Mom at all? Is she doing okay?”
Ashley stopped chopping herbs without thinking. He had a kid? That was intriguing. Leon was only three years older than she was. She had a hard time picturing him as a teen dad, but the way he was talking to this Sherry, she had to be at least ten years old, or something like that. Ashley felt guilty– what had felt at first like fun eavesdropping now felt like she was intruding on a private family moment. She tried to tune out the rest of the conversation, feeling a little gross about the light flirting with a man who was apparently maybe married, with children? Maybe she should just go back to her own room, skip this dinner and sort through the complicated friendship she was developing with Leon.
She started for the door, but her timing couldn’t have been worse.
“Love you kiddo. I promise, once they let me out of quarantine, I’ll take you out for a very belated birthday dinner.” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he hung up.
In her hurry to leave, Ashley bumped into Leon, and he grabbed her shoulders to steady her. Their eyes met. He held onto her a little longer than was necessary. She couldn’t help but blush a little at the contact.
“Oh, sorry Ash. You okay?”
“Y-yeah, fine!” She mumbled, a little flustered. “I just, uh, need to go get some stuff from my room. I’ll be right back!” she blurted, scurrying off before her face could get any redder.
Safe behind the door to her suite, she slumped down and exhaled deeply. Oof. Fucking messy. She hated how intensely he always looked at her. And why was he so flirty if he was in a relationship, anyway? Maybe that was just the way he was– she’d overheard him joking around with his handler, Hunnigan, in the same way. But he had to know the effect he had on her, didn’t he? He would have to be oblivious not to. Maybe he didn’t realize it. He had the kind of effortless good looks that he probably never had to try with women. Especially paired with the charmingly dorky personality that made it endearing instead of haughty and arrogant. She felt a flush break over her like a wave.
You know what? I almost got DECAPITATED by living suits of armor a few days ago. And I survived that! This is nothing in comparison.
She decided that the New Ashley, who could keep her cool while running through a gauntlet of axes swinging at her head in a dark and drafty castle basement, wouldn’t be afraid of just regular, everyday feelings. Even if they were weird and complicated. She was still fond of Leon, married or whatever it was or no. Being his friend was worth fighting through some lingering crush she had– he was thoughtful and lame in a sweet way that made her laugh, and he was the only person she could really talk to about what happened in Spain who would understand fully. New Ashley was cool, calm and collected. One hundred percent. No problems here.
__________
Dinner had been fine, up until a point.
They chatted about their lives before Spain. He talked about the places he’d seen since becoming an agent (but never what brought him there), how he’d been a cop for a day (but not what happened after that day.)
She explained why it was that she was still in undergrad at twenty-four (pre-med for a while, then biochemistry, then microbiology).
“Indecisive?” he said lightly, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s not like that– you just… people have expectations of the First Daughter, you know? Being America’s Sweetheart and never being anything less than perfect. It was hard to find something that I actually wanted to do that would be prestigious enough for the Graham family image .” She rolled her eyes. “And then of course, you have to make a decision quickly so you don’t embarrass your family in front of the press, and so on. God only knows what they’re saying about Valdelobos.”
“Sorry… I didn’t know.”
“No worries Leon! You get used to it when you’ve dealt with it forever. It’s old news at this point; you don’t need to feel bad! Although after everything that happened, I kind of want to refocus and study viruses, and biohazards. Research a cure for the plaga parasite so no one else has to go through what we did.”
“Giving up on the dream of being partners so soon?” He jested.
“Ha, I mean, I’m probably closer to being useful in the fight against this stuff with my studies. To be an agent, wouldn’t I have to start over and join the army or something? You really think I’d make it through boot camp?”
He was atypically sincere in his response. “Yeah. I do. If you wanted to, I think you could do just about anything.”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Mr. Kennedy.” she replied, lightheartedly.
“I’m serious, Ashley. For someone who was just thrown into this shit, you held up pretty well. I mean hell, you’d been kidnapped for how long and when I came to get you in that church, your first instinct was still to try and take my head off with a candelabra? I was impressed– you’re not like most people I’m sent to extract from dangerous situations. You’re pretty damn tough. I meant what I said in Luis’ lab, and after we left the island.” He gave a long, drawn out exhale. “Not that I’d encourage you to follow in my footsteps. It’s a shitty life.” He chuckled weakly, but it didn’t fool her. He seemed older in that moment, all the miles and years showing on his face.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Why not… retire?” She asked tentatively, squeezing his hand in a way she hoped was comforting. “Even if you don’t mention what you’ve seen and done, if you’ve been to all those places and they were anything like Spain, you’ve been through so much.” She paused. “You could be with your family, your… wife and kid?” she ventured hesitantly. “Sorry, I.. might have been eavesdropping earlier.”
He laughed. “Claire and I were… complicated, but we’re definitely not married. Just friends. Who barely see each other. Sherry… well, I guess we co-parented her for a bit. She’s an orphan, like me. Claire and I took care of her after the Raccoon City incident. We’re the closest thing she has to parents left, but…” he trailed off.
“I’m sorry. I’m prying. We can talk about something else.” Ashley offered.
Leon shook his head gently. “No, it’s nothing like that. I don’t mind talking about it with you, Ash. I’m just… not sure what I’m legally allowed to tell you.” He did a little snort-laugh. “Some of the details are classified. Wouldn’t want to get you in trouble. Basically, she’s in protective custody. I’m not even allowed to see her a lot of the time.”
“Oh. Shit. I’m sorry, Leon.”
He drank the rest of his wine. “ I’m sorry. I owe you a non-depressing dinner, I guess. Plenty of time left in quarantine for that though. God, wine-drunk makes me a sad sack, huh?” He gave a maudlin smile, getting up slowly to start clearing dishes off the table.
She took his hand. “Hey. Don’t worry about it… partner. That’s what friends are for, right? I mean, gosh, you save me from an insane bug cult, I listen to your problems, we’re even, right?”
Her grin was infectious and he couldn’t help but smile with her. “I think the bug cult thing gets me a pass on at least two bummer dinners, actually. I hate giant bugs.”
“Fine, you drive a hard bargain, but it’s a deal. Want to watch a movie or something?”
“Absolutely. I’ll clean this all up, you pick one out.”
She picked a stupid cheesy comedy that had them both rolling their eyes left and right. “It’ll be so bad it’s good!”
Still, it was nice to feel normal for a change.