Chapter Text
Chris Redfield isn't answering his door and Leon refuses to panic. He's a government agent, he's trained to kill people in more ways than he can count. He can kick a BOW's head clear off its shoulders if he really tries – he does not panic .
He still isn't answering, though, and Leon hammers again with something bordering on desperation. If Chris isn't okay Leon doesn't know what he's going to do. He's always had the peripheral belief that Redfield is going to save the world one day, that he'll outlive Leon and fix this godawful shit.
There's a sound inside the house and Leon clenches his fists anxiously, forcing himself to keep still and wait. He knows how bad it could be behind that door, knows exactly what he might see when it slowly creaks open. However, what greets him is one hazel eye, concerned and set in a pale, scarred face.
“Piers.” Leon rasps, relieved because if Piers is there and not covered in blood nothing too bad could have happened. “He called you too?”
Piers nods, steps aside to let Leon in, tense.
“Yeah. He's not doing so well.”
Leon looks around at the signs of a struggle, a few trinkets smashed and pictures hanging skewed on the walls. He glances back at Piers when he doesn't immediately spot Redfield, waiting for an explanation.
“He's in the bedroom. I knocked him out.” Piers admits, sounding slightly guilty about it. “I thought he was gonna be okay, seems like it came on overnight. He almost fuckin' bit me.” Piers mentions, raising one gloved hand to show Leon the imprint of Chris' teeth in his leather glove.
Leon feels the surge of alarm slide through him at that, meeting Piers' one remaining eye.
“You need to get out of here.” He tells the younger man, the decision instant. “I can take care of this until it's out of his system. It's only a week or two.”
Piers frowns, immediately protesting, not moving any further into the dimly lit house.
“You think I'm gonna leave you here alone with him when he's like this? You know how strong he is-”
Leon cuts him off with a growl, moving into the middle of the room, between Piers and the door to the bedroom. He doesn't want Piers anywhere near Chris right now.
“I'm a federal agent. I'm not a pushover, Piers. I'm immune to this shit – you're not. If he infected you he'd never forgive himself.”
Piers falters at that, his eye drifting over to his Captain's bedroom door.
“He's gonna hurt you.” He says, tone softer, turning back to Leon.
“Don't worry, if he does I'll kick his ass for it when he's better.” The smile Leon gives is forced, but he hopes Piers can't tell. “Now get out of here before he wakes up, you know I'm right.”
Piers looks like he wants to argue but something in Leon's sharp blue eyes obviously convinces him it won't help. He sighs, runs a hand through his hair and down the scarred side of his face over the thick, black eyepatch he wears.
“I'll provide support from outside, then. I'll be back later, you're gonna need supplies if you're staying.” He decides, determined to be useful. The smile Leon offers him this time is slightly more genuine.
“That sounds good. You run logistics; leave the Redfield-wrangling to me. I've been at it longer.”
Piers gives him another worried look, definitely not happy about the situation, but eventually there's nothing he can do but huff a frustrated breath and head for the door. Before he leaves he gives Leon a last once-over, standing in the doorway.
“Be careful, man.”
Leon nods and watches him leave, the door clicking shut ominously behind him. Taking a calming breath, he heads for the bedroom.
Xxx
The new variation is called T-Asinis, after the Latvian word for blood. That's where it was first documented, about six months ago.
It doesn't spread like T does, through the bites. It's strictly blood-to-blood, and infection rate isn't anywhere near T's absolute hundred percent. It's more like thirty percent – a drop or two normally isn't enough to turn anyone. A person can get it on them and if they wipe it off quick enough and disinfect the area they should be fine as long as it hasn't gotten into any open wounds or their eyes. To infect someone for certain a bad guy would have to inject them with infected blood, for instance, or maybe even do it a few times while they're strapped to a morgue table, just to be sure.
If that sounds oddly specific, well. Leon's weekend hasn't exactly been stellar.
Asinis thankfully doesn't kill the infected before it turns them. In Leon's case it hadn't done anything at all – he was one of the few people lucky enough to be naturally immune to it. Chris hadn't been so lucky, although with antiviral drugs his body should start to try and fight it off.
Asinis also didn't completely take over the way the plaga did or destroy the higher functions like T. It acted more like some of the G variations without the mutagens, or maybe more like progenitor – if someone is strong enough to resist it they can keep their mind fairly intact.
What it does to a person is in the name. It makes them crave blood like a cartoon vampire, and Leon would think that was pretty funny if the person craving blood wasn't one of the most dangerous people he knows. None of the other vampire bullshit is true, as far as they know. Garlic, crosses, silver, mirrors. Light sensitivity is an issue but only enough for a headache – Redfield isn't going to start turning into a pile of ash or a bat or anything. He's just going to feel like he's starving to death, going to want fresh blood more than he's ever wanted anything in his life. He's going to have poor impulse control and impaired judgment and he's fucking infectious until his antivirals kick in and help him fight it off.
Leon needs to keep him subdued until then and it could be a couple of weeks until he's cleared the infection. If he gets out of the house he's going to end up in a lab or a cell or worse, because he'd just seemed like he had a mild case the night before so he'd been allowed to quarantine at home. It'd flared up in the night though and Leon doesn't know what to expect when he opens the bedroom door, using every bit of his almost legendary stealth because he doesn't want Chris waking up.
The room is dark, just the dim light from the hall sliding in to show that Piers had at least taken Chris' boots off before dumping him on the bed. The captain is sprawled across the sheets and Leon freezes for a moment as he shifts, a light frown on his face. Up the side of his neck are the spiderwebs of dark veins sinking back slowly into his skin, barely visible in the gloom. Leon stares at those and not the way Chris' thin t-shirt barely contains the muscles of his chest, stretched over the broad expanse temptingly. He isn't here to stare, although it's an effort. He's never been good at ignoring when he wants something but this is definitely the time to learn some self-restraint.
He's also exhausted, and he knows he's going to need to sleep before he can deal with whatever feral bullshit Chris is going to pull on him when he wakes up. Like the rest, he only got back late the previous night and he needs to be on top of his game if he's possibly going to have to try and subdue Captain Redfield at viral strength. He's not new to the virus game though, and there's no way he's going to just wander out into the living room and sleep when Chris could get up and potentially murder him at any moment.
His solution is to cable-tie Chris' thick ankle to the bed frame three times. He's not fucking around, Chris isn't getting out of that without at least making some noise. He thinks about tying his other ankle as well but decides he'll let the guy sleep a little more comfortably. He probably wouldn't appreciate waking up zip-tied spread eagle on the bed, no matter how much Leon likes the thought of it.
Before he leaves he slips a hand under the pillow, under the warm weight on top of it. He and Chris are similar enough that he finds the knife immediately and removes it from the vicinity of his charge, checking the night stand and the edge of the mattress for anything else that might be considered a weapon.
Satisfied that Chris will struggle to murder him without at least waking him up first, Leon retreats to the living room and closes Chris' door, wedging a chair against the handle to block it. He hides the knife in the back of one of the kitchen cupboards and finally lets himself collapse on the couch, running a hand miserably down his face and wondering how the fuck he gets himself into these situations.