Archive of Our Own

Of fucking course, Leon S. Kennedy thought as he stepped inside and noticed the piece of cardboard taped onto the elevator doors, reading ‘out of order’ in messy lettering. Why would anything go his way, really. He’d just spent the past two days traipsing through the Spanish forests, in the freezing rain, without a jacket after some asshole stole it off him. He’d fought so many of those manmade monsters that they were blurring together in his mind, their wild eyes and sharp claws, the sickening noises they’d made both alive and in death.

By some damn miracle he’d not only made it out of there alive, but had also gotten Ashley Graham out of there alive and relatively unharmed. He’d slept his way through the entire flight back home but even then he felt like he was swaying on his feet, feeling every single cut and bruise way more acutely now that he didn’t need to ignore them in favor of survival. They’d both lived, and a few cracked ribs were a small price to pay for that.

Soon enough the bruises would fade, and there’d be no outward signs of what they’d been through.

Leon knew, from experience, that the nightmares would take much, much longer to fade. If they ever would. Hell, he was prepared to just start a running bet with himself each night, whether Spain or Raccoon City would win the rights for reruns in his brain. Not that there weren’t others, but it was hard for anything else to compare. Usually everything eventually morphed into Mr. X or Marvin’s empty eyes in his nightmares, and now he was willing to bet that there’d be new regular cast members added into the mix.

Like Jack, his mind whispered, as he took a deep breath and started climbing the stairs, hoisting his small backpack better on his shoulder. What about him? You loved him, once. You mourned him. You would’ve done anything to get him back.

You got him back.

Then you killed him.

With a headshake Leon forced those thoughts out of his mind. That Jack Krauser hadn’t been the same person as the one Leon mourned. That Jack Krauser was a traitor, who had faked his own death, who had kidnapped an innocent, who had worked for the biggest sleazebag in the entire BOW industry. That Jack Krauser was a power hungry megalomaniac, who had thought infecting himself with the parasite was a good idea.

But it was the Jack you knew who chose to leave you. It was him who broke your heart.

Leon almost growled, resisting the urge to punch the nearest wall. Just in the nick of time, too, as the moment he stepped on the landing he noticed his neighbor, who was already giving him the stink eye. She’d hated him from the moment he’d moved in, but he couldn’t really fathom why. He was barely ever home, and when he was, he was usually catching up on sleep or nursing his injuries. There was no way he wasn’t the quietest of all the neighbors. Yet every time they met, she wrinkled her nose at him, making her disdain known.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hamilton!” Leon greeted cheerfully, smiling as if he wasn’t aching all over and just dying to drop in bed for a week.

She huffed, her frown even deepening. “It’s almost six pm. I don’t know what kind of a life you lead but this is most certainly not a morning.”

“Oh,” Leon said, as if he cared. Still, he continued as cheerfully as he’d started, sidestepping past her to get to his door. “I just got off an eight hour flight, ma’am. Those timezones can really mess up sense of time, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I do not.”

As much as Leon tried to keep it civil and not let her open hostility affect him, there was a limit to what he could take. Especially when he was feeling like shit warmed over, and all he wanted was to get home and get some peace. So he only forced a smile in return, letting it drop the second he turned his back, and rolled his eyes at his own front door as he unlocked it and slipped inside. His neighbor could stand there seething if she liked, he didn’t give a shit. He should really start looking for a nicer place to live, anyway, this was—

Something was off.

Leon shut the door silently after himself and listened, but he couldn’t really place the faint sound he heard. Carefully and silently he set his bag down, and reached for his gun, slowly inching forward further into the apartment. This wasn’t what he’d signed up for, goddamnit, he’d just wanted to get home and get some well earned rest and now he had to deal with… what? He reached out and flipped on the lights, closing his eyes for a second just in time not to be blinded by the sudden brightness. When he opened his eyes, it didn’t take him half a second to connect the dots.

Jack fucking Krauser. Bloody and beaten. His face looked like someone had taken a mallet to it, and the way he was lying curled up on his side made it clear he was in a world of pain. He seemed to be breathing, even if laboriously, and carefully Leon approached. “Jack?” he asked, all the while telling himself he was an idiot. He should’ve just put a bullet into Krauser’s head the second he saw him, call for backup and make sure that if Krauser wouldn’t die he’d at least be locked up for good.

How the fuck had he even gotten here? Onto a different damn continent? While looking like a gust of wind could knock him over and finish him off.

With great effort, Krauser lifted his head, finally registering he wasn’t alone. That was terrible, Leon thought idly, under normal circumstances no one could just walk up to Krauser unnoticed like this. “Jack,” he repeated and waited, gripping his gun, every muscle tight and ready for action.

Instead of charging, or even attempting to, Krauser searched for Leon’s eyes with his own. His breaths were horribly labored, each accompanied by a gurgling sound that made Leon’s stomach turn. The worst part of it all was how Krauser looked at him, though. It was all wet desperation, something vulnerable to it that Leon had never seen. Not even when they’d been partners, when they’d been l—something to each other.

“Leon,” Krauser whispered, his voice wheezing even after only that, a trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. He strained to move, and all he managed was to lift his fingers, as if he wanted to reach out but couldn’t find the strength to. “Leon,” he repeated, voice barely audible. “Please.”

Frozen on the spot, Leon could’ve sworn he imagined that last word. He must’ve imagined it, right? There was no way Jack Krauser was bleeding onto his living room rug, pleading for him to help, was there? The last time they’d seen they’d fought to kill, even though it looked like Krauser had had a run in with a woodchipper even after that, considering his injuries. Leon had left him for dead, but he hadn’t left him looking like this.

Aside from the slow, barely there rising of his chest, Krauser was no longer moving at all.

Leon knew what he should do. He knew what the sensible thing would be. Instead, he carefully set his gun down on the TV stand so that it was in reach easily enough, and crouched down next to Krauser. Methodically he stripped Krauser of his weapons, unbuckling his belt that still had a grenade attached to it, grabbing his gun and his knives. When he had everything, unless Krauser had something hidden in his boots, Leon gathered the weaponry and brought it to the kitchen nook on the side of the room, where he dumped it all in a drawer.

Out of sight and out of mind, he thought a touch hysterically. It felt laughable, on some level, knowing that Krauser didn’t even need a weapon to be deadly. He was a weapon. But Leon felt that he had to do at least something to feel like he’d ensured his own safety.

When he stepped back, he grabbed his own gun, ready for anything as he crouched down next to Krauser. He pressed two fingers to the man’s neck and easily found a pulse, even if an erratic one. Krauser’s chest was rising and falling barely noticeably, but he was breathing, so at least he hadn’t bled out yet. He’d need to be taken to a hospital, Leon thought, before his brain caught up with him and added that the morgue would be an equally likely option. When the government found out about him he’d—

The government. Leon closed his eyes for a second. He’d need to make the call. There was no way he could deal with this without alerting someone.

But who?

Leon pulled out his phone, thumbing it open so he could go through his contacts, trying not to think about how few people he had in his life. Outside his official government contacts there were only the Redfields, and they were both automatically out of the question. He couldn’t call a civilian or someone working for a private organization. That at least was what he told himself the reason was.

Even his official contacts… Leon could already see in his mind Simmons and his sharp grin, and the mere thought made him shudder. He had no doubts the man would find a way to spin this so that Leon got the blame for it, to add another tight leash around his neck to keep him in check.

Hunnigan? Maybe, she seemed trustworthy, but they’d only worked together once and he couldn’t put her in a tight spot like that.

Maybe he could call the police, Leon thought briefly, but dismissed that immediately. Krauser was a bioweapon, not a regular home invader, there was nothing untrained and clueless officers could do that Leon couldn’t handle himself.

“Fuck you, Jack,” Leon muttered as he pocketed his phone. “You really had to make things even harder for me.” He took a deep breath, steeling himself. “I guess I’m harboring your fugitive ass, then. Thanks a lot.”

Once the decision was made, Leon had to set out to somehow make sure Krauser wouldn’t actually bleed out on his rug. Maybe hiding a body would have been easier, in the long run, but Leon had never been good at ignoring his heart, and his heart told him he had to help.

So, Leon set out to rid Krauser of the black hoodie he was wearing, to be able to really assess his injuries. It was soaked with blood in various stages of freshness, and turned out to be a real struggle. Krauser was completely still, despite how much being moved must’ve hurt him, and in the end Leon had to use his knife to cut through the fabric, peeling the shirt off in small patches that kept sticking to shredded skin.

Leon held his breath when Krauser’s left arm was finally exposed. The last time he’d seen that arm it had been mutated beyond recognition, and Krauser had used it to try to cut Leon’s guts out. Now? Now it had shrunken back to a human one. The skin was blistering and raw, some of the wounds so deep Leon could see all the way to the bone, but it was definitely a human arm instead of what it had been.

“What the hell were you thinking, Jack,” Leon muttered to himself. A part of him wanted to double over and throw up, and not only because of the heavy scent of blood or the sight of torn muscles and thick pus. He was getting fucking whiplash, what the hell was he supposed to think of any of this? He’d barely managed to process the fact that Krauser was alive when he’d been dead again, and now he was apparently alive once more? And why was he here? To make amends? Or to finish the job and stab Leon in the back the first chance he got?

The nausea welled up again and Leon got onto his feet, stumbling into the bathroom. He doubled over the sink but nothing came up, not even though he spent a good while dry heaving and waiting for the nausea to pass. Acting on autopilot he ran cold water from the tap, splashing some of it on his face to make himself land back to reality. When he glanced up he almost flinched. He looked like a fucking mess, but that wasn’t it. That wasn’t…

The thin cut across his cheek. He could’ve sworn he still felt Krauser’s knife slicing through his skin. Not only that, he still felt the impressive bruise in the shape of Krauser’s boot with every breath, his ribs probably all shades of purple and black by now. It hadn’t been friendly sparring, it had been a fight to the death, and how could Leon justify trying to help someone who had literally tried to kill him?

But as much as he could still feel the kiss of the knife, he could also feel Krauser’s palms on his skin. He only had to close his eyes and he felt the ghost of Krauser’s breath, felt the warmth of his body, the urgency of his touch. He’d yearned for those arms around him, mourned the loss, and as much as he tried it was harder and harder to ignore all that. A few days ago he would’ve done anything and everything to get Krauser back.

Hell, he’d brought fucking flowers to his headstone before setting out to Spain. How fucking stupid—

Leon slammed his palms onto the counter. Hard.

It didn’t help.

Resisting the urge to scream, he swept everything off the counter. Granted, it was less than satisfying as it was only his toothbrush and the liquid soap, so in his desperate rage he went to punch the mirror.

He only managed to stop himself in the nick of time, his knuckles brushing the shiny surface. As much as there was a storm inside of him that wanted him to break things, wanted him to unleash all the hurt and the anger, he could not let it loose. He could not.

Leon let his eyes fall shut and took a deep breath, then another, squeezing his hands into tight fists. His palms ached, but he ignored it, instead focusing on counting his slow breaths until he felt like he was back in control.

He needed something to focus on. Something to do, not to get lost in the mess in his mind. Even going back to Krauser to see if he could patch up his injuries was better. He kept a fully stocked medical kit in his bathroom, and he was pretty proficient with it, too, after all the times he’d stitched himself up. So he grabbed it, heading back to the living room.

Krauser hadn’t moved from the floor but he had rolled onto his back. Carefully Leon approached, calling out in case the man had regained consciousness while he’d been having his freakout. “Jack? You hear me?”

There was no response, no nothing, and Leon took it as a no.

Time lost all meaning as Leon slowly and methodically cleaned the injuries, wrapping the ones that were bleeding or oozing pus the most. If Krauser had been purely human, there would’ve been no hope for him, not without extensive care in a hospital. But he wasn’t human, not anymore. The mutation had given him extra strength, at least, and he’d seemed to be healing faster than a human should. Maybe there still was a chance for him.

Briefly Leon considered if he could somehow get Krauser into bed, but he had to ditch that idea as soon as it appeared. Krauser was dead weight right now, unable to assist at all, and he was massive enough that Leon couldn’t just pick him up to move him. Not to mention it could aggravate the injuries. “I really should just throw you out of the window and be done with it,” Leon sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

He didn’t have the heart to leave Krauser lying on the bloody rug, either, so he came up with a plan B. He dug out an old air mattress from his closet, hoping that it still held air, as he hadn’t actually used it since he moved in. For once he was lucky, and he set it down on the floor next to Krauser so he could drag him on top of it as carefully as he possibly could. Krauser didn’t even flinch, didn’t open his eyes, showed no signs of being conscious.

Leon gave one mournful glance at his bloodstained rug, before deciding that he could risk a shower. Krauser wasn’t moving, anyway, and if he locked the bathroom door and took his gun with him, he wasn’t going to be entirely defenseless.

Hot water felt heavenly and Leon spent way longer in the shower than he’d intended. Only when the water was turning cold he stepped out, rubbing himself over with the towel until his skin felt raw. Every movement hurt his numerous bruises but he was good at ignoring that, had learned it the hard way. He took note of every cut and bruise anyway, making sure that he wasn’t worse off than he’d thought himself.

Not bothering with clothes, Leon walked out of the bathroom after listening for a moment for any signs of movement outside the locked door. He took one glance at Krauser and the man hadn’t moved a single inch, still. So he went to his bedroom, digging through the closet for soft sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt that would keep him warm. He’d been freezing ever since he lost his jacket and got caught in the rain, and all he wanted was to get comfortable.

For a while Leon sat cross legged at the foot of his bed, looking at Krauser through the open door. He could only see Krauser’s shoulders and his head from his angle, but every sign pointed to him still being unconscious. Leon wasn’t going to lie, some quality unconsciousness sounded pretty damn good right now, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to stay awake much longer.

In the end, he resigned to his fate. He still had his gun in reach, but he didn’t bother locking the bedroom door, knowing that if Krauser got back to his strength a flimsy door like that would only hold him for a second at best. If Krauser was going to stab him while he slept, then so be it. He was too tired to care right now.

So Leon slipped under the covers, curled up in a position that hurt the least, and within seconds he was fast asleep.

It had never been this hard to get his eyes open before. Leon shifted, trying to blink, but it felt like his eyes were full of sand and refused to cooperate, falling back shut before he even got them open. A part of him wanted to just give in and keep on sleeping, but something in the back of his mind kept nagging at him, telling him it was important to get up. There was something he didn’t remember, something he had to… A lifeless body on the floor?

Krauser.

The memories flooded back like ice cold water and Leon bolted upright, the covers pooling in his lap as he leaned forward, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. His head was pounding, his eyes burning, and he really, really did not want to deal with this. Yet now that he was awake his stomach was grumbling, his bladder uncomfortably full, and he figured he could take care of those and maybe then see if he could get more sleep.

Once he got his eyes properly open he looked through the doorway. Either Krauser still hadn’t moved or he had returned to the exact same position from before. Leon wasn’t sure which option he preferred.

Reluctant but resigned to his fate, Leon got out of bed and after making a pit stop in the bathroom headed into the kitchen to rummage through his cabinets. He didn’t really tend to keep his kitchen well stocked, not when he wasn’t exactly home a lot, so the options were very limited. His fridge only had some condiments and a few cans of beer, and the cupboard contents were a few add-only-water type meals.

Then something in the air shifted. Leon wouldn’t have been able to explain what it was, but suddenly he was hyperaware of being watched. Slowly he turned his head, and instantly met Krauser’s unblinking gaze. The man hadn’t moved an inch except for turning his head, but he was staring at Leon now, his expression completely unreadable.

Leon held up two packets. “Expired mac and cheese or chicken flavored instant noodles?”

Krauser’s expression twitched, barely noticeably. Then, after a long pause, he spoke. “Surprise me.” His voice was like gravel, scratchy and barely audible.

Leon swallowed hard, and he was sure Krauser saw the minute shifts on his face as clearly as he saw them on Krauser’s. Two years apart hadn’t wiped away the time before that, the long months they’d spent learning each other, mapping out each other, in more ways than one. Except looking back, Leon wasn’t so sure anymore if he’d ever learned anything at all, or if he’d just been fed an elaborate act. He held Krauser’s gaze for a second longer, but then turned around, busying himself finding a pot he could make the noodles in.

When Leon was done with the noodles he portioned them into two bowls, taking as much time as he could with it. Not that it was a very long respite, but at least it gave him a minute to steel himself before he had to face Krauser again.

While Leon got the food ready, Krauser had dragged himself mostly upright. He was leaning so heavily against the couch behind him that without it, he probably wouldn’t have even been able to sit, but his expression was stoic, as if there was nothing out of the norm here. The thought of that almost made Leon snort. Everything about this was out of the usual, there was nothing normal about the situation.

Regardless of that, he held out one of the bowls for Krauser, half expecting for him to not even be able to grab it. Only a handful of hours ago he’d been lying there barely able to breathe, and while it was obvious the plaga made him heal at an unnatural rate, it was still hard to believe he was almost functional now. He was able to grab the bowl between his palms, and slowly but steadily he brought it to his lips to take a slow, long sip of the broth.

He wasn’t proud of it, but Leon took some twisted satisfaction in the fact that Krauser’s hands were shaking. At least he wasn’t completely invincible and unaffected, then.

Leon settled on the couch, to the furthest corner from Krauser he could. For a long time they sat there in silence, focusing on the food. Leon was done faster, but he still didn’t say anything, not until Krauser had managed to empty his own bowl after what felt like a small eternity. That was when Leon broke the silence with a dry “Thanks for not slitting my throat while I slept.”

There was the tiniest hint of a smile as Krauser huffed. He tilted his head back, letting it rest against the couch cushions. “That wouldn’t have made me a very polite guest,” he said, his eyes closed. He looked relaxed at first glance, but that was just a front. He was tense and carefully kept unmoving, which alone was proof enough of how much pain he must’ve been in.

Pain or no pain, Leon couldn’t handle the weird pseudo-normalcy anymore. He needed answers. “How did you get here?”

Nothing in Krauser’s expression changed. “Had an extraction plan,” he said gruffly. “Just changed the destination.”

“Great, so you decided to come finish the job. I’m honored,” Leon said, unable to keep his voice from dripping with sarcasm. “How do you even know where I live?”

“Been watching you,” Krauser said. He turned his head just enough to look at Leon from the corners of his eyes. “Ever since I left.”

A shiver ran down Leon’s spine. He knew, logically, it should’ve been pure fear, maybe with some rage thrown in, but… it was a way more confusing mixture instead. “You’ve—” he cut himself off. He couldn’t touch that, no, not now. Not when he’d been so broken after Krauser left and suddenly he was being told that he’d been watched all along. Instead he focused on the anger, on the indignation. “So now Wesker and his goons know where I live? How long do I have before there’s a gunman at the door?”

Krauser actually laughed. It was throaty and ended in a weird gurgling noise, but the crooked grin didn’t go anywhere when he spoke. “Relax, boy scout,” he said, “no one knows.” He waited a moment until Leon met his eyes, before he went on calmly. “Trust me.”

Unfortunately, that was the last drop and Leon lost it.

“Trust you!?” he snapped, incredulous. All of the hurt and the heartache, two years worth of it, exploded and he jumped up, the empty bowl clattering onto the floor. “You left me in the middle of the night without a goodbye and faked your own damn death!” He barely paused for breath, his voice rising with each word. “You made me mourn you while you shacked up with fucking Umbrella! You know fucking well what they’ve done and you still chose to work for them! You kidnapped Ashley, you killed …how many people doing it?”

Krauser opened his mouth. Leon didn’t let him get a word in. “Not to mention your grand entrance back from the dead. You tried to fucking stab me as a greeting! No explanations, no apologies, no nothing, but a knife to the throat and …what if Ada hadn’t interfered? Would you really have killed me in cold blood right there?” He laughed, a dry sound, nothing amused in it. “Oh, wait! You would’ve. Because the next time we saw you tried to blow me up. You worked really fucking hard to kill me, didn’t you!? And now I’m supposed to trust you!? When you chose to turn on me!?”

It was obvious that Krauser was in a world of pain, considering he hadn’t moved an inch. He was still sitting there, clutching the bowl in his hands, avoiding Leon’s eyes. His jaw was set, anger audible in his voice as he spoke. “I had no other choice—”

“Fuck you!” Leon spat. “There’s always a choice.”

Krauser’s eyes flashed and he suddenly stared right at Leon, right into the depths of his soul. “Like when you chose to work for the government?”

Suddenly all of the anger was gone, doused off by the cold shower of hurt. Leon knew he was shaking, knew the devastation was visible on his face, but he couldn’t do anything to pull up his walls, to put up any semblance of a poker face. What could he say to that? He had trusted Krauser. He’d told him his deepest secrets, things he hadn’t shared with another living soul before or after. He’d given everything he had, and now Krauser threw it back in his face.

He’d thought life was finally tolerable with someone by his side. A partner.

When Leon finally spoke it was in clear contrast to his anger from before. His voice was barely audible, a faint whisper between them. “You knew,” he breathed out, “you knew. And you still chose to abandon me.” He couldn’t handle this anymore. He felt rubbed raw, vulnerable in a way he hated, and even looking at Krauser was too much.

So he turned to leave.

“Leon,” Krauser started, his voice unreadable.

Leon cut him off. “Fuck you, Jack.”

He only grabbed his keys and his jacket, slipped on his shoes, and walked out of the apartment.

Walking around in the rain might not have been exactly pleasant but it did help Leon clear his head at least to a degree. He didn’t have any other place to go except back to his apartment, especially not as he hadn’t even taken his wallet with him. Once again he ran through his options in his mind, weighed the pros and cons of both turning Krauser in and letting him stay. Or maybe telling him to leave and washing his hands off this entire mess… He half hoped that he’d taken his phone, but he still didn’t know who he could possibly trust with something like this, so in the end it didn’t really matter.

Leon had no idea how long he’d walked around the neighborhood but by the time he ended up back at his apartment complex he was soaked wet and freezing. He still had no idea how to face Krauser again but at least he’d made his choice, which, he realized, was kind of ironic considering their conversation earlier. But he wasn’t going to pretend like this time it was anything but a choice he was making.

Maybe he was more messed up than he’d thought, considering he’d decided that letting Krauser stay was the safest option. Maybe he was still hung up on their past, holding on to a fool’s hope that whatever it had been between them was still there, to a degree. Maybe he was just so fucking tired he didn’t want to think anymore and chose to see where this’d lead.

Whatever it was, he was going to let Krauser stay.

When Leon got back inside, Krauser was sitting exactly where Leon had left him. Leon gave him a weak glare. “I’m going to shower,” he said. “Then we’re changing those bandages.”

With that, he marched to the bedroom to grab some dry clothes, before shutting himself into the bathroom.

Hot water felt heavenly, and once Leon was in dry and warm clothes he felt somewhat more human again. When he approached Krauser with his supplies – warm water and clean bandages, mostly – he was thankfully calm enough not to let any of his inner turmoil show. He crouched next to Krauser, and the first thing he set out to do was removing the old bandaging. Most of it was soaked through with blood by now, some of it crusted, some of the fabric stuck to Krauser’s skin so bad Leon had to use the warm water to soak it off. It was slow going, and neither of them said a word.

It was when Leon was almost done, the extensive injuries cleaned and redressed, when Krauser suddenly decided to be done with the silence. “Leon,” he started, his voice even rougher than usual, “I did—”

“No,” Leon cut him off. He couldn’t handle whatever it was. He simply couldn’t. “No,” he repeated, refusing to meet Krauser’s eyes, “not now.”

Obediently Krauser fell silent again, but Leon could feel his gaze on him, burning in its intensity. Stubbornly he ignored it. As soon as he was done he locked himself in his bedroom for the rest of the day.

With a sigh Leon rolled up the bloody rug, stuffing it into a plastic bag. He’d considered trying to scrub the blood and gore off it, because he actually liked it, but in the end he’d decided he didn’t really have the energy to deal with it now. He was barely dealing with the fact that for some reason he still hadn’t kicked Krauser out, but had instead helped him into the bedroom when his legs started to carry him at least a little.

So now Krauser was resting in Leon’s bed, while Leon was trying to make the living room livable again. He’d spent a good moment washing the dried blood off the floor, and had stuffed the disgusting sheets into the washer, before deflating the air mattress to put it away.

The stench of blood and rot was constantly lingering in the small apartment, and Leon wasn’t sure how long he could deal with it. He needed to burn the used bandages, and he’d need to air out the room. And get rid of the rug. He’d need to—

The doorbell cut Leon’s thoughts off.

Nervously, Leon glanced towards the bedroom, unsure if he should even go to the door. The doorbell sounded again, insistent, and with a sigh Leon stood up, kicking the bag with the stained rug behind the couch. He went to the bedroom door first, giving Krauser what he hoped was a warning look, before closing the door carefully.

On his way to the door Leon grabbed his handgun. He’d be damned if he was unprepared.

At least it wasn’t a bunch of Wesker’s goons, Leon thought as he saw Chris, awkwardly shifting on the doorstep. He opened the door a little wider, leaning against it as he arched a questioning eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

Chris rolled his eyes a little. “Good to see you, too,” he said, a hint of a smile ghosting over his expression. “Aren’t you going to even let me in?”

A part of Leon wanted to simply say ‘no’ and send Chris away. Yet he knew that would create more problems than it would solve, so he stepped aside, motioning for Chris to come in. He set his gun down on the TV-stand, and when Chris gave him a pointed look about it he just shrugged. “Wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“You should’ve,” Chris said, lifting his eyebrows, almost looking disappointed. He took a seat on the couch, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Officially, I don’t even know where you were. Unofficially? You know how the word travels.” He looked up, meeting Leon’s eyes straight. “Are you okay?”

Leon was certain his face betrayed nothing, but it took a lot not to snort at that. Even if he’d wanted to explain, he wouldn’t have had the words to describe the past few days. He could barely wrap his own mind around it, from the monsters he’d faced to the terror of being infected, the tiredness and the aches, and most of all Krauser. It always came back to Krauser.

“I’m fine, Chris,” Leon said, aiming for calm and collected, even if internally he was anything but. “I just need rest.” He faltered a bit as he noticed the palm sized bloodstain on the couch right by Chris’ leg, quickly going on in hopes that Chris hadn’t noticed his expression change. “You’ve done your duty, you’ve made sure I’m alive, you’re good. You can tell Claire mission accomplished.”

Chris rolled his eyes again. “Stop trying to kick me out and sit down.”

Uninterested in arguing, Leon took a seat next to Chris, steeling himself for more questions. He just hoped that Krauser would stay in bed and not appear here to make everything even more complicated.

“I know you’re tired,” Chris said, reaching out to place his palm on Leon’s arm in a friendly gesture. “And I sure as fuck don’t know how to do help, but I want to. There aren’t many people who have seen what we’ve seen and lived to tell the tale. I think that counts for something.”

That made Leon feel almost guilty about how much he wanted to kick Chris out. He tried to smile, even though he was certain it came out more than forced. “I appreciate it. But I’m fine. I survived.”

Chris still looked unhappy, but he clearly felt so out of his depth he wasn’t sure how to proceed. “You should talk about it,” he tried, tentatively.

“I really, really don’t want to,” Leon said, with emphasis. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, shaking his head a little as if to rid himself of the mess of thoughts within. “Maybe later. For now, I haven’t even processed any of it myself.” He knew it was an empty promise as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but maybe it’d make Chris feel better, make him feel like he was being met halfway. Leon had no intentions to ever talk about this with anyone. And as much as he respected Chris and thought he was a good guy, they did not have that kind of a relationship.

The words seemed to placate Chris, anyway, and he nodded as he pulled his hand back. “You probably shouldn’t be alone,” he said. “I could stay and keep you company. I won’t force you to talk if you don’t want to.”

Despite his best efforts not to, Leon glanced towards the bedroom door. “I’d rather be alone,” he said, hoping Chris wouldn’t take it as an insult. “I’m probably going to just sleep, anyway,” he went on, trying to make a good excuse. “It was a rough couple of days.”

“You’re sure?” Chris frowned.

Leon met his gaze. “I’m sure.”

It was more than obvious that Chris was unhappy, but there was something relieved in his posture, too. He clearly didn’t know what he was doing, so far out of his comfort zone, and being given an out made him both guilty and grateful. He stood up, pushed his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and gave Leon one more once over. “You know you can always call me, right? Or Claire?”

Leon stood up, nodding as he offered Chris a small smile. “I know.” As much as he knew that he was never going to take up that offer. Which, he suspected, Chris knew too.

“Alright,” Chris said, a bit awkwardly, turning to leave. That was when his expression morphed into one of confusion, then shock, and he looked at Leon from wide eyes.

It took an embarrassing second for Leon’s brain to connect the dots. The damn bloodstain.

Then Chris took one big step forward and grabbed the plastic bag, lifting it up. The rug hadn’t fit inside properly and it was clear why it was being disposed of, and there were really no proper excused Leon could give that’d sound believable. “It’s… not my blood?” he said it in a way that made it sound more a question, less a statement.

Thankfully Chris took it as a lame joke. “You should be at the hospital!”

Leon deflated. “I’m fine, I promise.” He looked up, arching an eyebrow. “You want me to strip and prove it to you?”

For a second Chris looked both incredibly uneasy and somehow tempted. Then he frowned unhappily, setting the bag back down. “I’ve got a lead I have to follow,” he said, voice strangely uneven. “But I’ll call you. You’d better answer, or I’m sending in the paramedics.”

Leon nodded. “I’ll answer.”

“Good.” Chris looked like he wanted to step closer but he only hesitated for a moment and turned around to leave. And as much as Leon knew he meant well and truly only wanted to help, he couldn’t stop the intense wave of relief as soon as the door closed behind him. All things considered, that had gone well. Unless Chris was planning on sending in the cavalry anyway, but Leon had a feeling he wouldn’t. Chris was very literal, usually he said what he meant.

Suddenly utterly exhausted, Leon stood there in the middle of the living room for a long moment, focusing on taking slow and deep breaths.

“You often offer to strip for guys?”

The gruff voice made Leon open his eyes but he didn’t turn around. “What’s it to you?” He couldn’t even summon up an annoyed tone, the tiredness so all-encompassing that there was no room for anything else. As there was no immediate answer he slowly turned around, though, giving Krauser a flat look. “And why aren’t you in bed?”

There was a hint of a grin on Krauser’s face. “You often tell guys to get in your bed?”

Under other circumstances Leon would’ve probably gone with it, but now it only managed to annoy him. He scowled, squaring his jaw. “Get back in bed.”

“You do realize that the plaga has almost healed me?” Krauser replied, not making a single move to get back into the bedroom. Slowly he leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms over his chest, and just stared Leon down. Infuriatingly stubborn, that was what he was.

“Stop being such a fucking asshole!” Leon snapped. “And do whatever the fuck you want. I’m getting groceries.”

He needed to get out of the apartment. Not only to dispose of the disgusting rug and the mountain of soiled bandages, but to get some room to breathe. Being close to Krauser made him want to fall back to old patterns, made some part of his brain believe that the past two years had never happened. That was a dangerous thing, and he couldn’t afford to forget that Krauser was a goddamn bioweapon now.

At least Krauser didn’t say a single word and let Leon walk away.

Apparently saving the president’s daughter had scored Leon some unexpected points because he was given ample time off, the only requirement being that he work on his report of the happenings. That opened a whole another can of worms Leon wasn’t sure what to do with. He couldn’t just omit Krauser’s existence from the report, not when Ashley had met him, too. Not when he had been the very person who kidnapped Ashley to begin with. As soon as the word got out there that Krauser had been a part of the operation, having him found in Leon’s apartment would turn into an even more massive problem.

Despite that, they somehow slotted into a routine. Krauser mostly left Leon alone, their conversations far and in between, but he was always there. He was always hovering at the edges of Leon’s vision, always answered right when addressed. It was like he had no intention to leave, not even when the wounds had closed and he’d regained his strength. Instead he made himself at home. The first time Leon walked into the kitchen and saw Krauser making them dinner, two weeks after he’d found him bleeding on his floor, he pinched himself as it felt so unreal.

Leon wasn’t even sure how they’d ended up sleeping next to each other instead of one of them taking the couch. It was the strangest thing. From the time before Krauser’s faked death, Leon didn’t remember more than a small handful of nights they slept next to each other without fucking to exhaustion first. Now though? Krauser kept a good couple of inches between them at all times, never making a move to get closer.

Leon didn’t know whether he appreciated or hated that.

“You think too loud,” Krauser said, not even opening his eyes.

Leon turned his head to look at him. Krauser was lying on his back, completely unmoving, just like Leon next to him. “If it bothers you,” he said, slow and measured, “there’s a couch with your name on it right out there.”

“Generous,” Krauser said, his amusement obvious. “Not throwing me out on the streets.”

“What can I say,” Leon answered automatically, “I owe you for not slitting my throat that first night.”

Krauser hummed a little. He fell silent for long enough that it almost seemed he was asleep, but then he went on again, voice a husky whisper in the silence. “You sure it’s not something else?” He waited for a moment, but as Leon didn’t answer, he went on eventually. “You sure you didn’t miss me?”

This time Krauser didn’t go on even when Leon let the silence stretch. Leon stared at the ceiling in the darkness, not really seeing anything at all, and tried to make sense of the absolute mess inside of him. He had missed Krauser, more than words could tell, but he was also acutely aware that this was not the same Jack Krauser than the one he’d loved. As much as he wanted to fall into Krauser, get lost in him and let him consume everything, at the same time he could not get rid of the boiling anger. There was too much baggage, too much betrayal, too much abandonment.

Eventually, after a small eternity, Leon broke the silence. His voice was embarrassingly choked, barely audible, and he wasn’t even certain Krauser was still awake. But he had to get the words out there.

“I can’t forgive you.”

Krauser’s response was uncharacteristically soft. “I didn’t expect you to.”

The easy acceptance was like a gut punch. Leon didn’t sleep a wink that night.

A little over three weeks of free time was all that Leon got, in the end. Then he was told he had forty eight hours to prepare before he’d be flown off to check out what they suspected might’ve been one of Umbrella’s underground facilities. The phone call left Leon feeling strangely empty, resigned, as it wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter. Maybe this would at least bring them one step closer to shutting the entire damn operation down for good.

This time Leon truly hadn’t noticed Krauser approach, startling as suddenly he was being spoken to.

“So now they send you on suicide missions solo?”

Leon turned to look at Krauser, who was scowling at him as if he’d been personally offended. Leon ignored that, pretending that he was entirely unaffected by the whole thing. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that place?” he asked, certain that Krauser had been eavesdropping for the entirety of the phone call. His senses seemed enhanced by the plaga, so he’d probably heard every single word.

“I might.” Krauser waved aside. “I might not.”

“If you’re not offering to come back me up, then stay out of my business,” Leon answered, turning away to signal that he was done with the conversation. He wasn’t exactly happy about going in there alone, but at least then he wasn’t responsible for anyone else. At least then if he fucked up he’d be the only one suffering the consequences.

“It’s their job,” Krauser insisted, voice firm. “The least they could do was give you backup. A partner.”

Annoyance flared up and Leon turned to glare at Krauser. “The last time they gave me one I fucked him and drove him to fake his own death,” he pointed out, not even attempting to cover up the bitterness in his voice. “It’s better they keep everyone else away from me.”

The words had been designed to anger Krauser, to make him snap back, but he remained entirely calm. He looked at Leon with something unreadable, and only after a pause he spoke up, with strange aura of seriousness. “You know that wasn’t because of you.”

Leon laughed humorlessly. “Who the fuck cares?” Except he did. He cared a lot. Ever since he’d found out Krauser was alive he’d been haunted by the knowledge that he’d faked his death, he’d needed to get away from Leon so badly. It was almost worse than the fact that he’d gone to the enemy and infected himself. He had abandoned Leon. He had let him mourn him and believe he was dead.

And Leon felt like the worst kind of scum for being more destroyed by being abandoned than witnessing the crimes Krauser had participated in.

Krauser took a step forward, his expression stormy, and he would’ve made just about anyone else step back. Leon stood his ground, though, not intimidated when Krauser got close. “They threw me away,” Krauser growled, jaw clenched, his eyes flashing. “Discarded me like an old toy they got tired of. I did everything right!” He was shouting by now. “Every mission! Every order! Everything they asked of me!” He stopped suddenly, shuddering visibly, and when he went on his voice was icy. “None of that was worth shit when I was no longer useful to them.”

Speechless, Leon stared at him. Slowly the pieces clicked into place, his mind organizing the puzzle into something that made sense. To him, Krauser had just disappeared. No explanations, no reasons. He’d never actually realized that it must’ve meant Krauser had been officially discharged. Discarded, in his own eyes.

Just like Leon really had only had one choice when there had been a gun to Sherry’s head, Krauser had only really had one choice after he’d been set aside and deemed useless. Neither of them had been given viable options.

Krauser was still breathing erratically, clearly agitated, when he met Leon’s eyes again. “They will do that to you, too,” he said. Leon didn’t even remember when he’d last sounded this passionate about anything, if he ever had. “One day you’ll fuck up your shoulder. Fuck up your knee. Maybe get too close to an explosion and lose your hearing.” He stepped closer, until their chests were almost touching, staring at Leon from blazing eyes. “You’ll be spoiled goods. They will throw you out like trash.”

That wasn’t something Leon was going to argue. The difference was that he was prepared for it. He knew he was expendable, unlike Krauser had. He was under no illusions that he was irreplaceable and he knew it would be a question of when, not if. One day he’d be discarded just like Krauser had been, unless he’d die first. But he didn’t care. If anything, it sounded almost like a reward, to get out of this cycle of death.

“I know,” Leon said quietly. “I know.”

Krauser tilted his head. For a second it was almost as if he was going to kiss Leon, but then he spoke instead. “Then you’ll be me.”

Leon shook his head. “No.” His heart was aching, breaking for Krauser, and there was nothing he could do about that. But he was not Krauser. “There’s one key difference.”

“What is that?” Krauser asked, almost reluctant.

“I’d go quietly,” Leon said. “I’d be free.”

Krauser scowled. This time he was the one who turned and marched away.

Leon’s hands were shaking. He almost dropped his keys trying to get his front door unlocked, and just when he spat out a curse the next door opened and Mrs. Hamilton poked her head outside. She gave him a disapproving look, opening her mouth to speak, and although up until now Leon had always been able to fake a polite tone and summon a passable smile from somewhere, now he was too far gone for that. “Not a word,” he snarled, and if he had been less shaken he would’ve been horrified at himself for being so hostile.

Now, though, he barely registered the shocked expression on her face, as he finally managed to unlock the door and basically fell inside.

The mission had been a shitshow. Leon had walked into the laboratory expecting to find Umbrella scientists and soldiers but instead he’d arrived to the aftermath of a massacre. There’d been severed bodyparts all over, blood painting the walls, and in the carnage there had been nothing of use. Nothing. The place was wiped of any usable information and all he’d been left with were the dead eyes staring at him unseeingly. With half mutated corpses in various stages of dismemberment.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t yet even gotten over Spain, but this had hit him harder than he’d expected. He felt hollow, like there was a black hole inside of his chest that sucked up all the warmth, everything human.

He just needed to feel something.

So when Krauser stepped in front of him, Leon didn’t hesitate. He practically fell forward and crashed their mouths together, kissing Krauser with everything he had. He kissed him as if his life depended on it, as if he could somehow let the fire burning between them fill up the icy void within.

Krauser’s palms were hot on his skin, calloused and rough, touching him with demand. Leon let himself get lost in it, let himself focus on the way Krauser practically ripped his shirt off him to get to touch him more. There was a massive bruise on his chest that made him flinch when touched, but he didn’t care, he couldn’t care.

Somehow they stumbled into the bedroom, where they stripped each other with intent. Leon went down together with Krauser’s pants, falling down on his knees as he tugged the garment down and out of the way. Krauser was already hard and Leon leaned closer, pressed his face against the hot, hard flesh of Krauser’s erection. That made Krauser growl deep in his throat, an animalistic sound that spoke of how much the moment affected him.

Then Krauser’s large palms were on Leon’s face, cupping his jaw, his thumbs brushing over Leon’s cheeks. He moved his hips, greedily rubbing his cock against Leon’s face, smearing precum along the bridge of Leon’s nose.

A part of Leon could’ve been content with that, with the way Krauser’s eyes were burning as he looked down, the way Krauser’s touch was demanding and his cock throbbed on Leon’s face. Another part of him was greedy for more, greedy for everything and anything he could get, and he parted his mouth and darted out his tongue to lick a strip up the underside of Krauser’s cock.

“Fuck, Leon,” Krauser grunted, moving one of his hands to tangle his fingers into Leon’s hair. He used the grip to guide him, but Leon went willingly anyway, eagerly opening his mouth wider so that he could take Krauser in, inch by inch. He hadn’t done this in so long he gagged way before he got as deep as he wanted to, and against his expectations Krauser took it easy on him. He kept shallowly thrusting, his cock heavy and hot on Leon’s tongue, and finally Leon’s focus started to narrow down to only this, nothing but this.

All too soon Krauser used his grip on Leon’s hair to yank him back, hauling him up onto his feet again so he could kiss him hard. Once they parted, he spoke right against Leon’s lips, his breath hot on Leon’s skin. “On the fucking bed. Face down.”

Under other circumstances Leon might’ve argued, either heatedly or flirtatiously, but now he moved on autopilot and did as he’d been told. He pressed his face into the pillows, breathing in deep as he realized they smelled of Krauser, and when Krauser grabbed his hips to yank his ass up all he did was groan weakly into the sheets.

Krauser had always been good with his fingers and his tongue. As he set out to fuck Leon open with his thick fingers, Leon didn’t even wonder when he’d found the lube in the nightstand. When he licked into Leon like a man starved, Leon almost screamed into the pillow as it felt so good. He wasn’t expecting it so when the orgasm slammed through him he almost forgot to breathe, squirming back against Krauser’s face to get more of that sinful tongue.

When the first waves of bliss faded Leon was left too sensitive, too shaken up to be able to handle anything more. He tried to pull back, but Krauser grabbed his hips tight, not allowing him to get away from the onslaught of sensations. It was bordering on painful, but Leon surrendered, parting his legs weakly as he let Krauser have what he wanted.

Eventually Krauser moved up, biting a trail along Leon’s spine to his shoulder blade, sinking his teeth into the meat of his shoulder so hard he might’ve drawn blood. Leon groaned weakly, his overstimulated body slowly on board with the proceedings again. Once he felt like he had the use of his limbs again, he rolled over onto his back, looking up at Krauser from half-lidded eyes.

Krauser met his eyes and it was like a match was lit next to the gasoline. Suddenly there was no icy void inside of Leon but there was a blazing inferno instead, scorching him from within.

“Sit,” Leon said, the single word like a gunshot in the room.

Without protest Krauser did as he’d been told, sitting on the bed and moving until he could lean back against the headboard. He waited, then, let Leon take the time he needed to come closer. Leon’s legs were only shaking a little as he sat up and moved to straddle Krauser’s thighs, inching closer to him to get in position.

Leon was so slick with lube and spit that he sank easily onto Krauser’s cock, stopping only when he was as deep as he could get, Leon’s ass flush with Krauser’s hips. This was something Leon had always loved, always craved, back when they’d still been something to each other. He focused on the fullness for a good moment, focused on the intimacy of the moment, but soon enough greed won.

Experimentally Leon rolled his hips, first only a little, then picking up the pace until he was riding Krauser hard and fast. It was what they both needed, and Krauser met each and every movement with an upwards snap of his hips. Leon was drowning in sensation, the pressure within mounting with each movement, and he knew it wouldn’t take long for him to tip over the edge again.

Krauser drew a line along Leon’s neck with his fingertips, something almost dreamy in his breathy voice as he spoke. “Remember when I held a knife to your throat when you did this?” he asked almost conversationally, but the hunger was obvious in his eyes. “Remember how hard you’d come when I’d press the blade just a little too close?”

An almost violent shudder went through Leon at that, his cock throbbing. He remembered, lust and need mixing with a layer of shame in his memories. He was about to answer, but then Krauser grabbed his throat, pressing just enough to show how he could easily choke him if he wanted to. “You were always into messed up shit,” Krauser went on. “Perfect on the outside, beautiful and unsoiled. On the inside you were always a little freak.”

Krauser leaned closer, flicking his tongue against Leon’s ear. “I bet everyone always sees a pretty face,” he said, letting out a rumbling sound, almost like a laugh. “No one expects you to be the deadliest weapon.”

Leon’s breath hitched in his throat. He could feel the first telltale signs of his orgasm, pinpricks of pleasure spreading from the pit of his stomach. He opened his mouth but no words came, his throat parched and his voice unusable.

Then the hand Krauser held against his neck shifted. The rough pads of Krauser’s fingers disappeared, something keratinous and sharp replacing the hot skin. Leon tore his gaze off Krauser’s face and watched in horror as Krauser let his arm mutate. His fingers disappeared into what looked like blades, his skin bubbling and expanding, the simple human arm turning into a weapon. The sharp edge of it pressed into Leon’s throat, not hard enough to do any harm but hard enough to be a reminder.

Krauser brought his lips to Leon’s. “That’s why I can’t quit you,” he breathed hotly. “We’re melded together.” He growled deep in his throat. “And you’re mine.”

Leon came so hard he saw stars.

For an endless moment all that there was in Leon’s world was pure white bliss, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through him, leaving him breathless. He’d never gone through something like this before, and all he could do was hold onto Krauser’s wide shoulders as he let it consume him. Only distantly he realized Krauser kept fucking him throughout it, until he stilled muffled his own moan in Leon’s neck.

Leon gulped in a breath, then another. When the intensity of the orgasm started to fade, it wasn’t panic that took its place. It was rage.

Krauser laughed, a rumbling sound straight from his chest. “That was—”

He didn’t get any further before Leon cut him off. “Get out.” He used the hold he had of Krauser’s shoulders to push himself away, wincing involuntarily when Krauser’s spent dick slipped out of him. He was on his feet in a second, though, the rage blazing inside of him making every single muscle in his body tense to what felt like the point of snapping.

Krauser frowned, confused. “What?”

“Get. Out!” Leon snapped. “Get out!”

Later Leon couldn’t have explained how the next seconds went but one moment he stood there screaming at Krauser to get out, the next he was leaning his back against his front door, panting heavily. Slowly he slid down until he was sitting down, pulled his knees up to his chest and pressed his face into them. He wrapped his arms over his head, trying his hardest to get his breathing under control.

There wasn’t a single sound from outside of his apartment. He didn’t know if Krauser was in the corridor, standing there naked for all of the neighbors to see, or if he’d left. Right now he didn’t care.

How the fuck had he let his life get to this point? This wasn’t just a fuckup, he was a fuckup, he’d fucked up everything so royally that there were no words left to even describe it. Somehow he’d managed to hang his entire emotional wellbeing on someone who was a goddamn bioweapon. Someone who worked against everything Leon fought for. Leon knew that this was not the same Jack that had fought alongside him, but goddamnit, how would he make his heart believe it, too?

In the end, did it matter?

Leon knew the world wasn’t black and white. He worked for the government but the government wasn’t a pinnacle of goodness. Everyone was made up of shades of grey. Did he really have the moral high ground to judge Krauser and his choices?

Especially as those choices hadn’t all even been choices, not really.

Suddenly Leon felt like crying. He forced himself to count his breaths, and when he got to forty eight he felt like he was mostly in control again. Slowly he stood up on shaky legs, steadying himself by leaning heavily against the door.

Another deep breath, and Leon opened the door.

For once, Krauser didn’t say a word. Leon sank against his chest, and when Krauser wrapped his arms around Leon, they were human.