Work Text:
October 08, 1998
Location: Classified
⬩⬩❖⬩⬩
Nine days since Hell.
Nine days since he was shot.
Eight since he watched her fall.
Seven since they burnt the city to ash.
They tried to keep that last part from him, but no matter how many drugs they pumped through his system to keep him alive, to keep his pain at bay, to keep him sedated... Leon still managed to figure it out. He never asked for confirmation, because he knew- He knew the government wouldn't think twice about dropping a bomb on Raccoon City, and he knew they wouldn't think twice about covering it up.
So why did they think twice about him?
Leon found it strange nobody had come to interrogate him yet. Granted, the past several days he'd been delirious from a septic gunshot wound and drugged on pain meds, but his mind was sober now; it had been for at least a day. Assuming the doctors knew, they likely only gave him the grace of the night before reporting to whoever the hell was in charge of this quarantine zone. Upon hearing a knock, he half expected it to be just them, but it was his doctor instead; he felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly as she walked to his bedside.
"Glad to see you're up, Mr. Kennedy. How are you feeling?" The doctor drew a pen from her pocket and clicked a button on the side to illuminate the tip; Leon knew the drill.
"I'm alright, all things considered," he said as he followed the light with his eyes.
"Uh-huh..." She clicked off her pen and stowed it away. The stethoscope then slid from her neck and she put its rubber tips in her ears. "That's what you said yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. And I'm pretty sure I recall you trying to mumble that same exact thing when you got here."
"What can I say? It seemed, ah- !" He winced, a small hiss escaping his teeth as the cold metallic bell pressed against his skin. "- like the right response at the time," he finished, his voice sounding strained.
"Ribs are still pretty tender I see," she mused as she examined the mottled bruising that stretched along his torso. Leon held his breath as her fingers gingerly prodded the spaces his ribs were cracked. "But you know, 'all things considered,' I would say you're a remarkably fast healer, Mr. Kennedy. Not everyone bounces back like this."
"I try," he smirked, trying not flinch as she moved her inspection over to his shoulder, which was very much still broken from when he had been shot by Annette Birkin.
"I... don't know if you want to take it as a compliment, at least not today." The doctor sighed and pushed her glasses to the top of her head. "It just means you'll be receiving company a little earlier than intended."
Leon's smile faltered as he heard the doctor speak. It appeared he was right after all.
She motioned towards the door, beckoning for whoever was on the other side to come through. Leon felt all that tension return as he saw the agent who would doubtlessly be his interrogator enter the room. He was a tall man of solid build. Streaks of gray peppered his soft-black hair; it was combed to the side in a hopeless attempt to hide the receding hairline that accentuated his long face. Silver-rimmed aviators sat upon a thin, straight nose. Donned in a charcoal gray suit fitted to his figure, his broad stance commanded attention.
"Well… If it isn't Leon Scott Kennedy, in the flesh. We meet at last, though I do wish it were under better conditions. My name is Adam Benford; I work as an agent within the Intelligence Community. I trust you are doing well?"
Leon refused to speak. Benford gave him a knowing look.
"It's understandable why you may be cautious. If it were me, I probably wouldn't trust the government man in a suit either, but please know, the sooner you cooperate, the sooner you can leave this facility and be on your way."
Yeah right, he wanted to scoff, but Leon remained still in his composure. Benford muttered something beneath his breath and shifted his gaze towards the doctor standing at his side.
"Kennedy is fit to be prepped for interrogation, correct?"
"He should be stable enough, yes," she confirmed.
"Excellent. Maybe- " Benford looked back to Leon; his eyes were locked with a cold, gray stare. "- Maybe you'll be more talkative with a change of scenery then, though I doubt how much you'll appreciate the dull walls and two-way mirrors." Without saying another word, Benford turned a strict 90 degrees and began to walk away, but there was one thing Leon had to ask.
"Sherry."
The agent stopped in his tracks.
"Take me to see Sherry, then I'll talk."
He paused to readjust his tie. With his back still turned to Leon, he gave his reply. "I'm afraid we cannot do that."
"Then tell me, is she okay? Is she safe?"
No response.
"Does she know I'm okay? Does she even know I'm alive?"
Once again, no response.
His blood boiled.
"She's twelve. years. old." His voice shook as he tried to quell his anger. His chest felt tight, painfully tight, as it swelled with rage. If Claire was scared, watching him go into shock, Sherry must have been terrified. And not hearing anything for a week? He hated to think it, but she likely assumed the worst; he knew he would have, especially if she was asking about him and Claire every day like Leon damn well knew she was. "She thought she saw me die out there, and you can't even tell her that I lived? If this is some fucking HIPAA thing- "
"Get him ready for Interrogation Room 1," Benford interrupted.
"Understood, Sir."
"Hey, I wasn't- !"
Benford walked out. The door shut behind him- not quite slammed, but he certainly did it with enough force to make a point.
"Damn it," he muttered, his voice just barely above that of a whisper. Damn it all.
⬩⬩❖⬩⬩
Leon had to admit, it felt good to be out of bed and wearing something besides a hospital gown, though he wished it were under different circumstances. He was given a plain black tee to change into as well as a fresh set of jeans, both of which proved to be surprisingly difficult to put on when your arm was in a sling (go figure). But he managed, and he was now sitting in 'Interrogation Room 1' waiting for Benford to show up.
The walls Benford mentioned- the nonexistent décor- it wasn't even the worst part about the room; it was the air. The cold, stale, suffocating air. It bit at any patch of exposed skin. It scratched at his lungs whenever he tried to take a deep breath. But, at least they had decided not to cuff his one good hand, so there was that... For what it was worth.
After what seemed like half an hour of marinating in dreary isolation, Benford finally decided to show his face. He entered the room, carrying with him nothing more than two water bottles and a simple black suitcase.
Aquafina, Leon thought as he watched Agent Benford set down his things. They really are trying to torture me.
"I apologize for the delay; there were some matters I had to discuss with my superiors before coming down, though I trust it gave you some time to consider what we discussed earlier, hmm? About your full cooperation?" Benford took a seat across from Leon. He rest his forearms against the side of the table and laced his fingers together, awaiting his prisoner's reply. Leon tried to gauge what was going on behind those calculating, pewter eyes, but he came up with nothing- the guy was good.
"Let's just get this over with."
"We'll start with the easy questions first, how about that." Benford unlocked his suitcase and retrieved a simple recording device from within. He placed it on the table and hit a black button along the rim. Leon could hear the tape whir gently as their session began.
"October 8th, 1998. Interrogation Room 1 of Quarantine Zone A. I am Special Agent Adam Benford of the Intelligence Community, and with me is Leon Scott Kennedy: Twenty-one years old. A purported survivor of the Raccoon City Incident."
Purported? Leon flashed Benford a glare. He was practically shooting daggers, but the agent remained unfazed.
"Tell me a bit about yourself, Mr. Kennedy. How did you find yourself in Raccoon City? Our records indicate you were not one of its residents, nor one of Arklay County's as a whole for that matter."
Leon remained silent for a few moments more. He wasn't quite as fumed as he was when he was in the hospital room, but he was still far from trusting of the agent before him.
"Mr. Kennedy, please- "
"You're right. I wasn't, at least not yet," he finally answered. He let out a sigh, then continued on. "... and now not ever. I was supposed to start a new job there as a police officer- a rookie- which I'm sure you can validate from my clothes that are probably held in lockup somewhere. I don't know if my papers were ever processed at the precinct considering what happened, but it's the truth."
"Right... Of course." Benford hummed as he contemplated his next question. "You know, it's interesting. There were plenty of cops on duty when the outbreak began, many of which were rather experienced. Most died within the first few days. Forgive my frankness, but how is it you, a rookie, managed to survive whereas they- for lack of a better term- did not?"
"I... I don't know. They were all either dead or infected by the time I reached Raccoon City."
His response seemed to pique the agent's interest. With a slight raise of his brow, this was the most emotion Leon had seen from the man all day. "When was it again- The day you say you arrived in Raccoon City?"
"September 29th." Leon didn't miss a beat; that date would be forever engraved in his mind.
"Ah and you see, that's the part I have trouble believing." Benford pressed his hands together and tilted his fingers towards Leon. "The town was placed under martial law well before that day, and I imagine your boss would have told you not to come in at any point past that. Am I correct in that assumption?"
"He did- Chief Irons did, I mean," Leon admitted. If he had just heeded the warning, all of this could have been avoided... But he didn't, and now he was paying for it- he and Sherry both. "Though it seemed more like a suggestion rather than an order at the time, and he sure as hell didn't mention any zombies roaming around the city. He... said there was a 'minor radiation leak' and some 'widespread skin infection.' I mean, seriously, a skin infection? I was already late for my first day on the force, and I wasn't going to let some small thing like that ruin the rest of my week. But, well..." Leon gestured vaguely to the state he was in. "... that's how that turned out."
If Benford had any sympathy towards Leon, he didn't show it. Instead, he simply nodded as if approving of his answer, and continued on with the interrogation.
"Now, why was it you were so late, if I may ask."
If I may ask. Leon heavily sighed. There was no 'asking' in this interrogation, no matter how kindly Benford carried himself. And as much as he didn't want to talk about Raccoon City, the events from just before weren't exactly great either.
"I... had a pretty bad argument with my girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, I should say." Leon felt the urge to do something like ruffle his hair or scratch the back of his neck, but he was still much too sore for even his good arm to reach that high. Instead, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I drowned myself in half a bottle of whiskey. Woke up with the worst hangover of my life. Realized it was well past noon, so I threw on whatever clothes I had in my closet and booked it to Raccoon City as fast as I could."
The agent nodded along as he listened to the story; it checked out with the rest of the evidence the government had collected thus far and did not conflict with either of the testimonies received from Claire or Sherry. It appeared as though Kennedy was indeed telling the truth; however, the validity of his account remained to be seen given he hadn't yet asked the more... difficult questions.
"So, you made it to Raccoon City. Then what? I imagine the place was swarming with the infected. If it were me, I would have hightailed it out of there."
"Yeah, well, that didn't exactly go as planned." Memories of screams and flames flashed in his mind's eye- Bloodcurdling. Scorching. He tried desperately to blink them away, but the images remained, flickering in the back as he recounted the events for Agent Benford. "It's hard to drive through a horde of zombies in a broken down city, believe it or not. I crashed. Car went up in flames, and I was separated from the main road. I sought shelter at the police station. It's where I was supposed to be headed anyway, and I figured that if anyone could survive this mess, it would be the guys in blue. But like I said..."
Leon left Benford to fill in the blanks. Or at least, he had meant for him to, but it appeared the man wasn't satisfied with his response.
"There were no survivors? Not one? No one to, say, help a rookie cop gear up and escape?" It was a bit of speculation on Benford's end, but he highly doubted Kennedy managed to make it as far as he did without the help of at least someone. Whether that was Redfield, a fellow uniform, or someone else entirely, however, that was what he was uncertain of.
"There were... There were two of us left aside from myself." The color from Leon's eyes seemed to fade as his mind went back to the police station. "The first was Elliot Edward. I found him trapped beneath one of those metal garage doors. I- I tried to help him out. I tried to save him, but I couldn't. He was torn apart. Literally- in half. They chewed through his torso while he was still alive. If I... If I had just been faster- " Leon's stomach churned. Even several days later, it was still so real, so visceral. The way the man's intestines fell out of his body, how they slid across the floor leaving thick trails of blood and spinal fluid in their wake... He could see his vertebrae sticking out of his abdomen. And God, the stench. The virus worked fast; not even a full minute since Elliot passed and he could already smell the rot amidst the sanguine flood of ferrous sap; he nearly puked. Swallowing his pride- and the acid creeping up his throat- Leon continued on.
"The other was Lieutenant Marvin Branagh. I couldn't save him either. He was injured pretty bad, but the infection took to him slowly. I don't think I quite understood what it meant at the time- I wanted to get him to a hospital, y'know?- but he did. He saw everyone else turn already and knew it was only a matter of time before he..." Leon's voice trailed off as a lump built in his throat. He took a quiet moment to clear it before reflecting back on his ex-lieutenant. "He put me in uniform, made me his rookie. He put his faith in me, even in his final moments. H- He gave me his knife and..."
The knife.
"Where's his knife." Leon felt the blood drain from his face. The color in his cheeks was replaced with a numbing sensation and his head began to swim. "I had it with me when I got here. Where- ?"
"It should be in evidence lockup," Benford calmly replied. His forehead creased as he saw Kennedy's breathing patterns begin to change. They were becoming more rapid and sounded rather strained.
"I need it back. It was his. He told me to- to..."
Leon's vision swam. The lights in the room felt impossibly bright. A sharp pain shot across his chest. His knee-jerk reaction was to grasp at the fabric of his shirt, to clench it tight against his heart; he instantly regretted it as he felt his broken ribs creak, practically screaming from the sudden movement. "Something's wrong." Leon gasped, choking on his own breath. He coughed in a desperate attempt to open his airways, but that only made the pain worse- so much worse.
"Kennedy? Kennedy, I need you to listen to me."
But he couldn't. He heard the words as they came out of the agent's mouth, but they held no meaning, and he suddenly lacked the ability to formulate a response. His mind was paralyzed with panic and dread; he couldn't break out of it. He clenched his fist as he tried to remember the sensation of clutching that leather-bound hilt on Marvin's combat knife, but all he could feel was his nails digging into his own skin, and even that was beginning to grow numb.
"Fuck," Benford whispered. He stood from his seat and grabbed one of the water bottles, but instead of giving it to Leon to drink, he held the liquid against the back of his neck so the cold would permeate through his skin. It felt sharp. He hated it. But it was something he could feel- something beyond the all-encompassing amalgamation of pain and numbness that encroached his body.
"Breathe, Leon. Just breathe."
"I- I can't." He gasped again. He clenched his jaw and let out a huff as his lungs agonizingly expanded within his chest.
"You can. Listen to my voice. Focus on the cold spot against your neck. Lean into the pressure- Yes, good, that's it."
Leon didn't understand why, but he placidly did as he was told. Maybe it was the newfound softness in the agent's voice. Maybe it was the disconnect between his mind and body causing it to act on autopilot. Whatever the case, he found Benford's advice worked; the cool pressure close to his face helped to ease the numbness. With time, it practically melted away, and with one frightening symptom under control, he was able to move onto the next.
"Try breathing now, Leon. It should be easier."
He was right; it was. His gasps for air had grown less frequent, and the lump in his throat had shrunken in size. Though it took him a while, he eventually came to the point where he no longer felt the need to lean into the cold. He fixed his posture, inhaling sharply as his ribs shifted in tandem- it appeared moving around and heaving his breaths did not treat them kindly. Shocker.
"What was that." His voice was raspy; his throat felt raw. Adam's expression softened as he heard the rookie's question.
"I take it you've never had a panic attack before, have you."
A panic attack? It felt like he was dying all over again.
"No, but I... Fuck." Leon buried his face in the palm of his hand. The police academy warned them of this, albeit only in passing. But even so, it was never a consequence anyone seriously considered- especially not Leon who, for all intents and purposes, probably should have given his upbringing, but it was that same upbringing that paradoxically made him feel like he would somehow be immune to PTSD.
It was almost laughable just how wrong he could be.
"How about I give you a breather." Benford stepped away-
- The sentiment was rhetorical. He was giving Kennedy a breather. The boy needed it whether he knew it or not...
Leon's lips felt numb. He pressed them together as if to form a response, but there was no energy behind it- not that it mattered anyway; Benford was already one foot out the door, and Leon was alone once more.
⬩⬩❖⬩⬩
Benford returned carrying a small tray. Upon it were steaming porcelain mugs, a small silver creamer, and a teal cold pack wrapped in linen. Leon eyed the agent suspiciously as he set the items down in the centre of the table.
"I hope you like English Breakfast," Benford kindly smiled. He took one of the mugs and placed it before Kennedy.
"What's in it?" he asked, fearful the contents may be laced with some sort of sedative- or hell, maybe a truth serum- the government had up their sleeves.
"Just a dash of honey," Benford innocently replied. "I don't know if it's to your liking, but I took the liberty of adding some since your voice sounded hoarse after... Well, you know- I brought some cream as well just in case. It might feel good on the throat too."
"Oh, um... Thanks." Leon grit his teeth as he reached for the miniature jug of cream. The agent, apologetically, pushed the item closer so that it would be better within Kennedy's grasp. He then took the frozen gel pack from the tray and did the same.
"For your ribs," he explained. The agent watched with concerned eyes as Kennedy carefully grabbed the pack and held it gently against his chest. Opening his suitcase once more, Benford took inventory of some medications he had happened to bring along in case it was necessary. "I'm not sure what they were giving you for the pain, but I expect it should be wearing off by now. Unfortunately, our interview is not yet over, but I can help. What was it... codeine, tramadol- ?"
"I'm not taking any pills," Leon snapped. He heard the tablets rattling around in there. Though Benford was right- his last dose was well before the interrogation, and his panic attack had sufficiently agitated his wounds- Leon refused to have his mind be addled any longer, no matter how much his gunshot wound and broken bones begged for him to choose otherwise.
"Suit yourself," Benford sighed. He clicked the locks on the case shut and went to take a sip from his own cup of tea. Just as he brought the warm glass to his lips, he paused in contemplation. "I'm trying my best to help, you know. None of this was my idea, and I certainly didn't want this to end up... You know, the way it did."
Leon furrowed his brows and took a tentative sip of the tea. The rich liquid felt heavenly against his aching throat, though his hand trembled as he set the glass back down. Benford frowned as he watched the young man.
"Still got some nerves?" he asked, gesturing to the mug to make his point clear.
"Maybe," Leon replied. "I don't know." He darted his eyes to the side and gripped the mug tighter, but that only caused his hand to shake some more. He tried to take a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself, but the air in his lungs quivered just as much.
"It's alright if you do, we'll take it slow."
Adam knew all too well what Leon was going through. You didn't get to where he was in United States Intelligence without having gone through some trauma of your own; there was a reason he was chosen to interrogate Leon S. Kennedy, and it wasn't one he was overly keen on sharing, but it did enable him to relate to the rookie on a level plenty of others could not.
"If it makes you feel any better, I stopped recording a while ago."
Leon looked at him skeptically, though there was a noticeable lilt of hope in his voice. "You did?"
"If they ask, there were 'technical issues.' The recorder was a cheap thing from the 80s after all." He winked and took a sip of his tea. This seemed to relax Leon a bit, as Adam noticed his hands had stopped shaking as much.
"Look, between you and me, this whole thing is a formality. The government knows a lot about the incident already- definitely more than you and I know- and yet they insist on doing this whole procedure." The agent brought a hand to the rim of his glasses and shook his head. "They wanted me to figure out what you knew... Being a cop who survived a few days in the worst parts of Raccoon City, they figured it would be a lot. Were they wrong?"
They both knew they weren't. Leon's silence was enough of a confirmation for that. Neither of them were going to sit there and pretend Kennedy knew nothing about the G-Virus, not when he and Claire had brought in the Birkins' daughter.
"Whatever you want to tell me, it will stay off the record, alright?"
Leon moved his hand around the mug, trying to warm the cold spots on his fingers. He drank some more of the cream infused tea as he pondered the agent's words. Off the record, huh? He set it down, but refused to tear his eyes away from the swirling liquid inside. He breathed in through his nose, then shortly out through his lips as he prepared his story.
Leon recounted the events of Raccoon City from where he left off. He spoke of how Annette Birkin had shot him in pursuit of the virus, how he knew what happened to her husband, and how he had fought him in his mutated form. He recounted both of their deaths, though he was careful not to mention the degree of Claire's involvement in the matter, for he feared what would happen to her if they knew. Likewise, he neglected to mention the presence of Ada in its entirety. Benford didn't need to know all that... Besides, she was dead.
Wasn't she?
There were more parts of his story to tell, some of which he informed Benford about, others of which he withheld. Regardless, it all but confirmed what the government officials had already assumed of Leon:
He knew too much.
He knew far more than what any ordinary citizen should know- far more than what any cop should know for that matter. Adam thanked Leon for being so forthcoming, though he admitted the officials had already made up their minds. If he were to share his testimony, it would only reinforce that decision.
"What was the purpose in all of this then?" Leon asked. His voice was quiet and hollow. The agent dropped his hand from his glasses and folded his arms atop the table.
"I assume you are familiar with United States Strategic Command."
"STRATCOM, sure." Leon felt the urge to mirror Benford's position, but all he could do was lean in a tad closer and hold the ice pack tight against his chest. Judging from the long look in the agent's eyes, he didn't like where this was going.
"In light of the Raccoon City Incident and other recent bioterrorism attacks on U.S. soil, the Department of Defense has reached the decision to open a specialized unit within STRATCOM dedicated to anti-BOW efforts. We are... asking you to join."
Leon didn't like how Benford said that word, 'asking.' As they exchanged looks, equally cold pairs of orbs boring into one another, Leon could tell he would be given little say in the matter.
"For full transparency, if you do not accept, you will be considered a risk to national security. Believe me when I say that I don't think you are, but- "
"What about Claire," Leon flatly said. His cold gaze never broke from Adam's. "And Sherry. Are they 'risks' too?"
They could label him whatever they wanted, but he did not go through all of that just so he could see the girls be branded as threats to the country. All they wanted to do was escape- that's all any of them wanted to do.
"Redfield, she... You don't have to worry about her." Though the agent could not disclose any more, Leon could tell he meant what he said. In reality, it all had to do with her relationship to Chris, but that was not yet information he was privy to know.
"And Sherry..." Leon's voice trailed off. He noticed Adam had neglected to address the topic surrounding her. The longer the agent remained silent, the more alarmed Leon became. He could feel his chest and throat growing tight again. "Please... She's just a kid. She doesn't know anything. She just lost her parents, and- "
"She's the sole carrier of the G-Virus antibodies."
Leon paused. He felt something break inside of him. This is what it was all about, wasn't it. It wasn't a matter of national security. They just wanted an excuse to experiment on her as if she were some monstrous secret kept by the Birkins, and he was caught in the crossfire.
"So what, you're going to turn her into a lab rat?!" he roared, wincing as his display of rage caused undue stress to his ribs, but he was well past the point of caring. "No. You want me to join STRATCOM so bad? You better promise me no harm will come to Sherry- or Claire for that matter."
"Leon- "
"I'd much rather sit in a cell than be part of something that harms the innocent! Don't think for a second that I won't."
Benford folded his arms across his chest and rocked back in his chair. Leon's rookie-cop boy-scout attitude was really showing through here. The kid had guts, he had to give him that. If those were his terms and conditions, he could work with that. Besides, it wasn't like he wanted to see a twelve-year-old girl be harmed either, but it would take some convincing. Being who Agent Benford was, however, so high up in central intelligence, he was certain he could work out something with his superiors- especially if he had Leon S. Kennedy as leverage. This one man had succeeded where squadrons of trained military personnel had failed. Talent like that was rare to come by, and STRATCOM wanted it. No, they needed it.
"I'll see what I can do," Benford finally said. "I cannot guarantee she will come out of government custody, but I can ensure no harm will come to Sherry. All of this, of course, being contingent on your full cooperation with- and recruitment into- our newest division of STRATCOM."
He wasn't being given much of a choice. He could either rot away in government custody due to the knowledge he had on Raccoon City while they did who knows what to Sherry, or he could work for them and at least have the peace of mind knowing she would be alright. He didn't care what kind of anti-BOW training they had to put him through; her life was worth it.
"You swear she'll be safe?" Leon's voice was quieter now. Softer. He could tell from Adam's body language that not even he really wanted this. They were both dealt a shitty hand and they each had to make the best of it. But for Leon, that meant giving up his freedom in one way or another, and only one choice would guarantee the lives of both him and Sherry.
"You have my word."
"I'll do it then." As the words left his lips, he couldn't help but feel a sinking feeling in his chest.
"I'll join STRATCOM."