Chapter Text
Don't ask Leon how he ended up wrestling this thing because he didn't know either. One second he was shooting it's eye out, the next he ran out of ammo, and the moment after that was a blur of them fighting to survive this encounter against each other. He still couldn't figure out what creatures it was supposed to be an amalgamation of–all he knew was that it was bigger than him and it had vulnerable spots for him to strike, and that was all he needed to know to complete this mission.
He managed to keep from being crushed under the BOW, just barely. It moved surprisingly fast for a larger creature. It managed to evade him for a little while, but Leon was still victorious in the end. Getting the timing right was tricky, but he did it–he'd had to run away from the creature and up the cavern wall just a few steps to get above it to vault off of, and then he'd landed on its back and plunged his knife into its brain, pushing until the top of the blade protruded from the top of its mouth. The creature collapsed, but of course the Agent couldn't just walk away and get his happy ass back to base–that was not the outcome.
He should have stuck the landing when he slid off its back before it could fall, but a wave of dizziness hit him at just the wrong moment and he stumbled, and then the thing fell over limp–on top of him. And now, he was pinned under this stupid BOW and unsuccessful in his struggles to free himself. He'd managed to take a group of these things down without any help and here he was, stuck and unable to move. This mission had been going way too well, he really should have known better….
Another wave of dizziness hit him and he blinked hard, trying to push through it. He just needed to get out from under this thing. If he could find something to help him lift it off his bottom half, then he could–
Next came the nausea, then the cold sweat that broke out across his skin. Goosebumps spread along his arms, the back of his neck somehow feeling hot even while he shivered. Leon wasn't usually one to panic–hell, he hadn't panicked even when he'd been implanted with a parasite and managed to complete an entire mission with the thing growing inside him–but he felt weak. Leon may not have been the strongest guy out there, but the body on top of him should have at least shifted when he pushed at it. His muscles strained, aching. Just shoving at the creature on top of him tired him out and he dropped his arms to the floor, already tired. The dizziness somehow got worse when he closed his eyes so kept them open, peering up at the ceiling of the cave and feeling the warmth of blood pooling, soaking into his clothes. He was confused for a moment before he realized that the BOW was the one losing blood and not him.
Another wave of nauseating dizziness had his stomach roiling and he groaned, the sound echoing. If this dizziness persisted, he might actually lose whatever he'd eaten last.
….
Fuck, when had he eaten last?
With a feeling of both mortification and despair, Leon realized that he’d lost track of the days again. He didn’t work for the U.S. Government anymore, having resigned from his job as a Secret Agent as soon as he was given the option when his unit was remade into the DSO. He probably should have demanded reparations, but they had nothing he wanted aside from the ability to cut out the tracker they’d implanted into the back of his neck after he’d returned from the mission in Spain in ‘04.
Their blackmail had run out since Sherry turned 18 that year and thus would no longer legally be their ward. They’d assumed he would run and took advantage of the three-day coma Leon had fallen into out of pure exhaustion when he returned to his apartment after completing the mission, returning Ashley Graham to her father, and debriefing and writing up his report on the mission as soon as he returned to the States. He was still surprised that anything he wrote made any sense, because Leon did not remember writing most of it. He’d been running on fumes by that point.
The point was, Leon actually had help he could call for now since he’d come to work for the BSAA. Now, Leon didn’t think himself a prideful man, but maybe he should re-evaluate that, because he hesitated to call for help just yet. Sure, he was low on energy and he’d run out of water to drink a bit ago and his back fucking hurt and was probably getting all sorts of bad shit in it from the floor of this cavern deep in an old mine that he’d followed a trail of evidence to, but surely he could handle this himself? He didn’t need someone to come save him just because he didn’t stick the landing….
The Agent shoved at the corpse again, trying to summon the strength in his legs to maybe push it off of him or shift its weight with his knees, but he couldn’t even manage that. He snarled in frustration, beating at it with his fists as if that would get him anywhere. If he was actually incapacitated, it would at least be less embarrassing to call for help, but he’d gotten himself into this situation. Leon was still adjusting to having a more stable work-life balance rather than being sent from one mission to another with only the helicopter rides in between as rest. Somehow, he hadn’t realized how much that way of living would affect him even after leaving it behind. He still lost track of his days, he still had no clue what year it was and thus exactly how old he was, and he had a hard time maintaining a schedule to eat and drink and sleep properly.
It took black spots dancing in his vision for him to give up on his stubbornness. Leon lifted a hand to his earpiece. “Kennedy to base, do you read me?” He tried, his voice hoarse from how dry his throat was. All he got was static. Fuck. He was too deep into the mine for the signal to reach outside.
“Well, at least I don't have to explain I'm stuck under you….” He consoled himself out loud, trying to clear his head and make a plan. He didn't have the strength to lift this thing off of him and he now knew he really was on his own. If Chris was here, he could probably lift this thing off of Leon easily with all that muscle packed onto him, and then he'd wrap those strong arms around Leon and carry him out of here and they'd–
No, not the time! Think, think….
Leon's knife sat in its sheath on his shoulder, still sharp and ready for more action. He pulled it and plunged it into the BOW’s flank, then he dragged the knife down towards himself. The flesh and fur tore under the blade and more blood spilled, soaking into his clothes. If he couldn't move the thing as it was, he'd just have to cut it up until he could…..
§~•~§~•~§
Leon had no idea how long it took him to cut the creature up into chunks. He vomited twice from the rancid smell, the stinging pain in his back as the gashes were pulled by his movements, and the emptiness in his stomach that made it feel like his insides were consuming themselves, but he wasn't going to die and rot away in this cave after finally making it to a point in his life where he didn't loathe waking up every day.
At some point, he was finally able to drag his legs out from under the pieces of the BOW, and he vaguely recalled finding his boots and putting them back on despite the wave of pain that shot up his left leg from his ankle, and then he'd gotten to his feet with a mortifying amount of effort and stumbled out of the cavern, using the walls and support beams to keep himself upright every time his ankle gave out. He couldn't afford to fall, he wasn't sure he'd get back up. The dizziness only got worse and his back burned and his throat did too because all he had to throw up was stomach acid. His vision was spotty and it was already hard to see in the dark with only the low yellow light cast by the battery-powered electric lanterns along the supports.
He actually did fall at one point and then he was just sprawled pathetically in the dirt, shuddering at the multiple uncomfortable sensations across his body and so disoriented that he barely remembered where he was or what he was even supposed to be doing. But when he looked up, he could see daylight at the entrance to the mine. With one last burst of desperate energy, the Agent forced himself onto his hands and knees and crawled, comforting himself with the fact that no one would see him like this–pathetically dragging himself into the light.
He recalled clumsily lifting a hand to press and hold the button on his earpiece that would send a distress signal. He didn't know if he could articulate what was wrong or any details if he tried hailing HQ, but this way, someone would come find him.
Leon didn't make it much farther than just beyond the entrance of the mine before collapsing against a tree, his knife held tightly in his grasp just in case. He tried to stay awake and vigilant, who knew what was in this forest? But his head pounded and his breathing was so labored by now and his back and his leg and his stomach and his head hurt and he was out of energy.
His blinks got longer and longer until he just couldn't open his eyes anymore and he lost the fight to stay conscious.
§~•~§~•~§
Leon came to a few times, but he couldn't really make sense of anything. He remembered hands grasping his face and tilting it up, blinking blearily at familiar stormcloud grey eyes and a worried frown. Those lips were saying something, probably to him, but Leon just couldn't register the words. He slipped back into unconsciousness, his face cradled by big, warm hands.
The second time it happened, he was moving. Or rather, he was being moved–carried. Someone was carrying him piggyback style. His stomach twinged sharply and he curled closer to the warm body with a quiet, pained sound as he slipped away again.
The third time, he was strapped down to something. The feeling of the restraints set him off and he began to struggle on impulse. He felt a prick in the side of his neck that had him thrashing more out of pure instinct before his body stopped listening to him and gave up on the panic response, going limp again.