Chapter Text
Leon dropped down in the seat of his Porche and closed the door after him with a definitive slam. The silence that greeted him was welcoming after the chaos of the Mexican streets. He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. He breathed in then out, slowly. After a long moment, he opened his grey blue eyes again, looking not out the windshield, but down at the dark dash behind the wheel.
His mission was over. Completed, if not neatly. It had been a disaster couched in bad intel with bioengineered monstrosities sprinkled on top. There were always monsters. Leon had found himself yet again outnumbered and out gunned. Sherry had offered him backup once she had realized, but it was too little too late in Leon's opinion, so he hadn't even bothered answering her. What good would a bunch of under briefed soldiers do for him while he was fighting for his life in the sprawling research facility, especially after it had already caught fire?
Not much, in Leon's opinion.
But that was all over now and Leon was fucking tired. His mission was complete, the facility producing bioweapons had been demolished (quite spectacularly, if Leon did say so himself) and now the Mexican government, with help from the US, would create a plausible coverup to explain why the massive, outwardly opulent resort out in the middle of the desert had suddenly exploded into a raging fire ball and rolling black smoke.
That part didn't concern Leon. Nothing concerned him now. His part was over and now it was time for him to go home. Back to his quiet neighborhood street, back to his two-story home with its green front lawn and white picket fence. Back to Claire.
Leon smiled as he thought of her. He was finally back in her good graces after the stunt he had pulled back in Racoon city (or so she had said), and he was actually looking forward to going back home this time. It was much nicer when Claire welcomed him with open arms and a flying tackle hug, rather than with a frying pan and a scowl. Leon had had to do more dodging when he had walked through his own front door after that than he had during his fight with the monster Victor Giedon had become back in Raccoon City. Leon had been reasonably sure the frying pan had just been for show, but it had taken a lot of coaxing, promises, and tender kisses to pry it from her fingers and convince Claire that he was truly sorry and that he would never do anything like that again.
Leon grimaced as images of his latest mission flitted across his mind. Perhaps he wouldn't reveal exactly all that had transpired this time. Why worry her?
"No reason at all," he said to himself with a tiredly raised eyebrow. He reached out and pushed the ignition button on the dash.
The Cayenne Turbo GT roared to life; the dark dash flashing into existence with its digital display. Leon felt the power coursing through the chassis, and he was comforted. He would be able to outrun his troubles now, whatever they may be. He was just about to put the vehicle into gear when his phone dinged, indicating he had a text message. Leon pulled the device out of his jacket pocket and held it up in the dying light. He read the name of the sender.
His eyes narrowed and his lips parted slightly in surprise.
It was Chris.
Leon's thumb froze over the glass screen. For a moment his instincts screamed danger, but he squashed them as if they were a bug back on that Spanish island. Why should he care if Chris was texting him?
He looked closer and realized Chris had texted him several times. Had called him as well, though just once.
Leon didn't open the message. He saw no need. Chris wasn't texting him about anything or anyone important; he was sure of that. Not when that information could be delivered much more quickly and reliably through Sherry, the constant voice in his ear and usually the only link to the outside world when he was deep into enemy territory. There was no guarantee Leon would even still have his phone on him during a mission, and he had lost count of the number of phones he had lost or broken along the way.
So whatever Chris wanted, it could wait.
Leon shoved the phone back into his coat pocket. Gripping the wheel with one gloved hand, he put the car into gear with the other. His foot pressed the gas, and he didn't even spare a glance at the destruction he was leaving behind in his rearview mirror.
____________________________________________
After showing his credentials, Leon passed over the border and was once again in the good ole U.S. of A. The thought made him smile as he drove along a deserted highway in the twilight of early evening. His job had him traveling all over the world, but Leon was always happiest when he was back home. Outside, the desolate desert landscape whizzed past his tinted windows. It was cold out there, the sort of cold only a desert on a winter night could be, but Leon was comfortable enough in his heated car. In fact, he was too comfortable. He had only been driving for a few hours, but his physical exertions from earlier were making themselves known, demanding the last bit of energy he had managed to hold on to, and along with the warmth of the interior cabin and the hypnotic sound of wheels on asphalt, Leon found his eyelids drooping, his eyes hot and dry. He wouldn't fall asleep. He was too disciplined for that. But he was exhausted and it might be a good idea to stop for the night. He was still a couple of states away from home. The price he was paying for driving his car instead of using D.S.O. assets.
What could he say? He loved this car. Besides, driving helped him wind down after a mission.
Leon toggled the GPS on the vehicle's touch screen, selecting hotels nearby. Several options popped up, but they were not close. Not yet anyway. He would have to do some more driving before he could stop. Leon mentally selected the closest dot, not even bothering to hit the directions button. He didn't need them. He could read a map just fine, and the location he had picked was located somewhere on this lonely stretch of road anyway. He would see it long before he would pass it, as there was next to nothing out here on this desolate road.
As he drove on into the night, the sound of his phone dinging again captured his attention. He didn't look at it, but it did return his thoughts to Chris.
"What the hell do you want?" he muttered to himself.
It was a legitimate question; one he could probably answer if he only looked at the texts. But a part of him, a very small part of him, already had some idea, one that Leon wasn't willing to contemplate or even acknowledge right now. Or ever. He fought it, fought it hard, but his mind dredged up the memory of his and Chris's last meeting.
One corner of his mouth twisted down into a grimace.
That had been about three months ago. Three months since Raccoon City, three months since Chris had taken him to his personal safe house, and three months since things had changed forever between them. Leon tried to not think about that night, that night when Chris had taken him over his knee and…and…
Leon propped his left elbow on the side door and placed a hand across his lower face, rubbing uncomfortably. He exhaled loudly, trying to blow the memory out. But he couldn't. As much as he tried to suppress it, to not acknowledge it, he just couldn't forget that Chris had spanked him. Had spanked him like a fucking child with a wooden spoon of all things. And Leon hadn't been able to stop him. It had easily been one of the most humiliating things to ever happen to him, and it was hard to think back on it. Every time he did (which wasn't often) he felt a surge of uncomfortable embarrassment.
But it wasn't just that it made Leon uncomfortable. Something had changed between them, in their dynamic that had Leon uncustomarily uncertain around the older Redfield now. It hadn't been like that before, but then again, Chris had never beat his ass before. It hadn't helped matters that Chris had promised to do that to him again.
And that right there was what had that small part of him so suddenly uneasy about all those texts and missed call.
He squinted as some asshole came flying down the road with their high beams on, turning them off only when it was too little too late. Leon was glad for the distraction and firmly closed the door on any more thoughts about Chris Redfield. It was unlikely this was about Leon's mission anyway. He had already had it out with Sherry about tattling on him and he had put the fear of God in anyone else at the D.S.O. that might have had Chris's ear. He could be intimidating when he wanted to be. Claire liked to point out that he had the face of an angel, but it was an avenging angel, storming the gates of hell.
Well, he was no angel, that was for sure. But he did routinely storm the gates of hell.
The night was getting darker, his eyes heavier, and his thoughts uncomfortable, so it was with some relief that he spotted the neon sign off in the distance. Leon slowed down and turned into the cracked and sun bleached parking lot of the small roadside motel. He parked in a spot, away from the only other two vehicles in the lot.
"Must be the off season," he muttered to himself as he opened his door and got out.
His eyes took in the parking lot, noting the minivan with the traveling case on top, and the old beat-up pickup with its rusted fenders and chipping paint. He then turned his gaze to the motel itself and in the light of the yellow streetlamps, he was pleasantly surprised by what he saw. The one-story motel with its main lobby and row of rooms trailing off to the side of it looked clean and well kept. Not like so many motels he had stayed in before. This place had no chipping concrete, no trash in the lot, no grime covered windows, no peeling paint or questionable loiters sheathed in cigarette smoke and shifty expressions. In fact, each room had flower boxes under every window, filled with yellow daisy like blooms instead of ugly AC units. All in all, this motel looked very inviting. It was nestled not too far from the road, and looked as if it stood at the very edge of human settlement. Behind the motel was a single road that curved off into the darkness and Leon could only make out a lonely gas station and what looked like some sort of diner. Across the equally empty highway he had just been on, stretched nothing but open desert.
"A real one-horse town," Leon quipped right before he let out a wide yawn. Taking that as his cue, he walked towards the lobby.
A little bell tinkled merrily as he pushed open the glass door. As he stepped in, his eyes roamed around the lobby, taking in the atmosphere. Most motel lobbies were bare bones utilitarian, with little in way of décor or personality. This one was different as it had both. The linoleum flooring was an old fashioned black and white pattern, and the walls were bare brick, the red and brown coloring giving a warm, homy feeling to the space, helped by all the pictures and paintings on the walls. There was an old cast iron stove in one corner, and Leon could see it was actually lit, wood crackling away inside its potbelly. An old cigarette vending machine was placed against the wall to the left of the large wooden desk at the back of the lobby.
Leon made his way over to the desk.
There was a lone chair behind it, but it was unoccupied. Behind the desk was an open door that must have led into an employees only room. Leon stood on the other side and took off his gloves as he waited. Surely someone must have heard the jangling of the door bells.
"I'll be right out!" An elderly female voice called out from within the room behind the desk.
"Take your time," Leon called back, not wanting the woman to rush on his account, especially if she was as old as she sounded.
He let his eyes roam some more as he placed his gloves in his jacket pocket. He didn't see a computer anywhere, but he couldn't see behind the raised counter so there may have been one stashed there. There was a vase of roses on the counter to his right, and they gave off a sweet smell. To his left were more pictures, some black and white, the rest in color, all in frames and looked to be of the proprietor's family. Leon could see some of the photographs were taken in front of this very same motel. Must have been a family business then. He looked up when he heard the shuffling of feet.
The smiling woman who came through the door was indeed old. Very old by the looks of her, though there was a clear spark of vitality about her. She was a short, tiny woman, and her silver hair was cut short and framed her wrinkled face. Leon could still see hints of the beauty she must have been in her youth. She had a thick cream cardigan on, and she pulled it tighter around her as she made her way to the front desk. Leon could make out a pair of glasses with rather large frames attached to a silver chain around her neck.
"Hello there! So sorry to keep you waiting, hon. I was crocheting a blanket for my oldest grandson. He's having a baby girl soon!" She explained as she placed her wrinkled hands on the counter and pulled herself up on what must have been a step stool or something similar.
"Congratulations," Leon politely replied, smiling gently and nodding towards her.
"Oh, thank you. This makes two great grandchildren now," she added as she reached for the chair and slowly lowered herself into it. "Just a moment, hon. Let me adjust this," she said as she reached down with one hand. The chair began to rise with a mechanical whir, taking this little old lady with it. She raised it till she was more or less eye level with Leon. "Apologies about that, hon. This place wasn't built for little ole things like me." She clasped her hands in front of her and looked Leon over, smiling sweetly all the while. "Welcome to the Desert Rose Motel! You interested in a room? We have the best in town! Cleanest too. You will not find one speck of dust in any of my rooms, I assure you that," she declared proudly.
"I don't doubt it, ma'am," Leon replied truthfully. "I got that impression just from the outside."
She beamed up at him.
"Oh, I'm going to like you," she softly laughed. She reached over and pulled something out from behind the desk. Leon was surprised to see it was a tablet. She must have noticed his surprise as she raised an eyebrow at him as she paused mid-way while putting on her glasses. "Why the look, dearie? I may be old, but I'm not old fashioned when it comes to business," she said as she placed the large pair of spectacles on her nose. "People stopped paying with cash decades ago. Nowadays they even pay with their phones of all things! One man even tried to pay me with his watch, but I drew the line at that. Now, let's see…" she trailed off as she pulled the tablet close to her face and tapped a few times. "Plenty of rooms available, hon. Not much demand this time of year. Just yourself?" She asked him as she looked over the top of her glasses at him.
"Just me," he confirmed with a smile.
"You have business in our little town?" She asked, still tapping away.
"Just passing through," he told her.
"That's the answer most people give," she chuckled. "Not much out here for people to stick around for. That's why we built this motel right here on the edge of town, to snare passerby's on the highway like yourself."
"Looks like it's been working," Leon joked.
"That it has, hon!" She laughed in return. "Oh, forgive me! The name is Betty, Betty Greyson," she suddenly announced, setting down the tablet and holding out a hand to Leon, palm down in that way ladies used to give their hands to gentlemen to kiss.
"Leon Kennedy," he gave her in return, taking her fragile hand in his own and gently giving it a single shake. No kisses from him. He was married.
"Pleasure to meet you, Leon," she smiled as he released her hand.
"Likewise, ma'am."
"Oh please, call me Betty," she insisted.
"Alright, Betty," Leon dutifully replied.
"Now, back to business," she declared. "I assume you would like a room for the night?"
"Yes, that would be fine," Leon confirmed.
"Well, that will be fifty-five dollars, but that comes with a free breakfast in the morning," she explained. "I don't like my customers leaving here without a full belly. None of that continental crap either. A real, honest to goodness American breakfast with all the fixings," she said proudly. "My daughter owns that diner down the street. You might have seen it when you came in," Betty told him as Leon handed her his credit card.
"I did," he confirmed. "I admit, I do love a good breakfast," he added with a smile.
"I'll make sure she brings the good stuff then," Betty winked at him as she closed the transaction and handed him back his card. She reached down behind the desk again and pulled out a key card. "Here you go, hon. Room number twelve. Last one at the end of the building. I hope that is okay? I've got a family from New Jersey in room one with some rather rambunctious kiddies, and I didn't want them to disturb you. I pride myself on the peace and quiet we offer here," she explained as she set down the tablet and took off her glasses.
"That will be fine. As tired as I am, I could sleep through the end of the world," Leon said as he placed his card back in his billfold.
"Somehow I doubt that…" He heard her say quietly.
Leon looked up at her quizzically, but she was already putting the tablet away and began lowering her chair.
"You go on to your room, and I will be there shortly with some fresh towels," she said as she pushed herself to her feet.
The thought of her walking all the way to his room at this late hour did not sit well with Leon. He couldn't help the protective urge he was feeling towards her. He raised one hand and shook his head gently.
"Oh, no, ma'am…Betty," he quickly corrected himself at her look. "I wouldn't want you to…"
She interrupted him with a dismissive wave of her hand as she carefully stepped down onto the little stool she must have there.
"Oh, don't be silly, hon. Ain't nothing around here that will harm me, and I could always use the exercise. Besides, I got big Bertha with me," she explained.
"Big Bertha?" Leon asked, clearly confused. He saw no one else in the lobby, nor had he heard anyone.
Betty replied by reaching down and pulling up the mouth of a double barreled shotgun, just enough for Leon to see it over the desk. Leon eyed it with a raised brow and a growing smirk.
"Is she loaded?" he asked, already suspecting the answer.
"Oh, I keep her well fed. But she has a sensitive stomach, don't you know. Doesn't take much to make her vomit up all that nice buckshot I give her. Now, you don't look like the sort to cause Bertha indigestion, so I don't think I we need to worry about that, do you?
"No ma'am," Leon respectfully replied, hands up before him, laugh held back behind twitching lips.
"See, I knew you were a nice boy. I can tell these things, you know. It's in the eyes," she said, tapping the side of her own green ones. "Now go on. And don't worry about little ole me. I've been doing this since before you were born, don’t ya know," she added with a smirk of her own.
Leon smiled and nodded to her, then turned and walked to the door.
"Just make yourself at home! I'll bring those towels shortly!" He heard her call out to him.
"Yes, ma'am," Leon called back.
_______________________________________________
Leon closed the motel room door behind him. Betty had been true to her word. The room looked spotless. At least as far as Leon could tell from the doorway. The room was basic, as one would expect. There was a single bed to his left, but it looked to be a queen size at least. There was a bedside table with a lamp right beside it. Directly to the right of the door was a small couch, situated just under the windows. Across from the bed and against the wall was a decent sized TV. Leon was actually surprised to see it was a flat screen and not an old tube TV. In the back of the room was what he suspected was the bathroom as there was another closed door. The walls were a neutral color and sported a few photo prints of what looked like local scenery. There were the typical heavy drapes one would expect in a motel to block out light and sound, but Leon was surprised to see there was also a secondary white lace set underneath them, giving the room a more personal feel. There was a small vase of fresh flowers on the nightstand, along with the obligatory landline phone whose only function in this day and age was to connect to the front desk.
"Not bad," Leon nodded.
He shucked off his jacket and threw it onto the back of the couch. His holsters and guns followed, landing heavily onto the jacket and flattening it. He would stow them properly once he had a look around the room. He let out a weary sigh and picked up the black bag he had retrieved from his car and had dropped at his feet when he had first come in. He walked over to the bed and placed it on top the patchwork quilt. Leon wondered if Betty had made it. He wouldn't have been surprised. He unzipped the bag and began rummaging through it for his toiletry kit, pouring out some of the contents of the bag onto the bedspread in his search. He had a change of clothes, but thankfully the set he wore was relatively alright, if a little smokey. He doubted Betty would have rented him a room if he had come into her lobby drenched in blood and gore. That surely would have upset big Bertha's sensitive stomach.
He wasn't sure how long he would stay. He just needed four hours of sleep, then he could get back on the road. He hoped Betty wouldn't be too disappointed if he missed her daughter's breakfast.
He sighed again as he rummaged around, his tired body making its complaints known.
He was getting too old for this shit.
Leon's hairbrush and a rolled-up pair of socks spilled out of the bag to land on top the pile of clothes. Why did he always have to pack the toiletry bag at the very bottom? Finally, his slim fingers touched the canvas fabric of it, and he pulled the damn thing out. He tossed it once in his hand before turning towards the bathroom. He could freshen up a bit before Betty came with the towels.
The bathroom was just as clean as the rest of the room which Leon was grateful for. He set the bag down on the porcelain sink and went about cleaning himself up. He was still undecided if he would take a shower or not, but at the very least he could make sure he washed away any lingering soot or smoke. He could decide on a shower after Betty brought the towels. Wouldn't do to answer the door in just his underwear, though he had a sneaking suspicion Betty wouldn't have minded. Old gal looked like she had been around, and her glances at him hadn't just been assessing, with some bordering on appreciative.
The thought made him huff in amusement as he went about brushing his teeth. With that chore done, he ran the tap and filled his cupped hands with water, splashing it against his face. He scrubbed at his skin, not surprised to see a few grey drops of water land onto the pristine white of the sink. Guess he had had a little bit of soot on him after all. Leon did the same with his forearms, pushing the long-sleeved shirt as far back on his arms as he could, scrubbing away at the pale skin there. He saw a small bar of soap wrapped in wax paper on the edge of the sink, and he grabbed it. It smelled of lavender.
"Huh, thought it would have been roses," Leon muttered to his reflection in the mirror. This place was named the Desert Rose after all. He ran the bar under the tap, lathering it up, then used that to wash his face, arms, and hands. By the time he was done, the water in the sink was clean. He turned off the tap and shook his hands of excess water. He looked around for something to dry his hands and face on, but there was nothing. He sighed again. "Maybe I should have waited for Betty."
Just then he heard a knock on the motel door.
"Right on time," he said as he wiped an arm across his face and rubbed his chin on his shoulder, removing the worst of the dripping water with his shirt sleeve.
He looked at himself in the mirror. It would have to do. Leon exited the bathroom and quickly made his way to the room door. He did not want to keep Betty waiting outside, especially at this hour. He opened the door and couldn't help but smile at the sight of that sweet old lady standing there with an armful of fluffy white towels.
"Here you are, hon. Just like I promised," she smiled up at him as he took her burden from her.
"Thank you, Betty," Leon said, nodding down at her. "But you didn't have to bring so many. One would have been fine."
She waived a hand at him and let out a tisk as she turned her head to the side.
"Nonsense. No guest of mine will want for anything while they are here. And you can never have too many towels," she added with a wink. Leon saw her look past him into the room, her green eyes sweeping over the place before raising up to meet his. "How is your room? Everything all right?"
"It's perfect, Betty, thank you. One of the nicest places I have ever stayed in," Leon told her truthfully. He was pleased to see her smile brighten as she beamed up at him.
"Oh, thank you, hon. I'm so happy to hear you say that. I decorated it myself, you know." She pointed to the bed. "I made that quilt myself, and I sewed those curtains as well," she explained proudly.
"I had wondered that," Leon chuckled. "You did an amazing job. I am very impressed."
He was shocked to see her suddenly blush and look away.
"Well now, don't you go filling my head with such compliments. It just might get so big that I will float away," she replied ruefully.
Leon simply smiled warmly in return. Betty seemed to remember herself then and nodded her head once at Leon, taking a step back from the door.
"Now you just give that phone there a ring if you need anything, you hear? There will always be someone at the front desk to answer. My son most likely, as he likes the night hours. As for me? I will be turning in shortly. It was pleasure to meet you Leon, and I hope you enjoy your stay with us. Just remember," she added, raising a finger at him and wagging it like a good grandmother should. "All I ask is that my guests respect each other and keep the noise down. No rough housing, carousing, or shouting. No banging of doors either. We are civilized around here," she finished with a smile to indicate she wasn't really scolding him.
"Yes, ma'am," Leon replied respectfully, nodding once again towards her petite frame.
She smiled up at him.
"Goodnight, Leon," she said in way of parting.
"Goodnight, Betty," Leon returned softly.
He watched her nod once and then she was off, shuffling back towards the lobby. Leon leaned out his door and watched her all the way back to the entrance, not stepping back inside and closing his own door until Betty had disappeared safely inside the lobby. Once he had, he took his towels towards the bathroom. He was still undecided if he was going to shower or not, but it was nice that he could if he wanted. He set them down on top the closed toilet seat and grabbed one of the hand towels from the pile and used that to dry himself from his sink bath. The towel was soft, and it felt good against his skin as he scrubbed at his face. He was just finishing scrubbing at his arms when he heard another knock on his motel door.
Leon paused, surprised, and just a little bit confused. A lone traveler didn't normally expect anyone to knock on their door, especially at this hour.
"Maybe Betty forgot something," he mumbled as he dropped the towel into the sink and exited the bathroom.
Though that didn't seem likely based on what he had gleamed of her character the few minutes he had interacted with her. She seemed far too put together and conscientious to forget something, especially in her domain, which this little motel was. But still, if that was her outside, he was not going to leave her standing there. He quickly made his way to the door. It had no peephole, but he couldn't recall a motel that did, so he simply turned the knob and opened it.
"I'm alright, Betty, I don't need anything else…," Leon began as he pulled the door wide, but he stopped the moment his brain registered he wasn't looking down at a five foot nothing old granny, but at the chest of a six foot one, heavily muscled man.
Leon's eyes snapped up to the square jawed face, and he instantly recognized the person standing outside his door, but his mind was having difficulty processing how that could be. No one knew where he was. Not even Sherry.
"Chris?" he asked dumbly, as if he wasn't sure that was the right answer.
"Evening Leon," Chris responded, hands comfortably in his coat pockets as he looked at him. "Something wrong with your phone? I tried texting you…"
Leon slammed the door in his face…
Or tried to.