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Rare Side Effects May Include the Following:	By : maiafay376 Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 39551 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil or characters therein. I do not profit from this story. Original characters and plaga hierarchy are mine.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
-Chapter 10: Dueling For Keeps-
No one moved. No one breathed. All watched where the spotlights shone, the two monsters within the circle. Even the scientist geek raised his head, pen paused over his notebook as he regarded both Saddler and Wesker with the same clinical excitement he might give two angry lab rats ready to duke it out in the maze.
Behind sunglasses, cat eyes roamed over Leon, appraising him from head to toe, looking for flaws, for some reason to refuse. Glad that his aura had censored his manly bits, he met those eyes with an icy glare of his own. In his head, the narrator of some animal show described the wondrous mysteries of nature: And now, see how the tiger attempts to intimidate his prey by glowering from a great distance. But look – there in the clearing, the daring antelope stands his ground and stomps a 'fuck you' in the dust. Such profound courage!
Saddler clasped his hands in front of him, the ever patient priest waiting for the sinner to repent – or get the hell out of his confessional. At the edge of the spotlight circle, ganado auras clustered like a nest of fish eggs the wrong color. The ganado should be Indigo. Again the pang of loss, the ache in his heart he felt even though it seemed misguided. Even aided by the memories of Medeya and Jase, what had happened to the Indigo still confused him. Where had it gone wrong?
He could dwell and theorize later, maybe take a stroll through his library and clean up the crap littering the shelves. The Here and Now commanded his attention, a fight that would begin or not begin – that was the question. If Wesker wanted to stay in one shiny piece, he should leave, walk while he still had legs to walk away on.
"But what about me?" Sherry by his side, her hand on shoulder, her aura warm on his back.
"I keep forgetting your body's not here." He placed his hand over hers in apology. "What should I do; what can I do?"
"Just be patient. If we're lucky, Saddler will solve one of our problems for us," Sherry said so only he could hear. Wesker's eyes darted to her, and his aura hissed in warning. "Oh stop it," she said as if addressing a child. "I'm just telling him that you'll win, and he can be your new toy to break. Leon can't wait."
"Actually, I can. A long, long time," Leon said.
"Little black rat, why so silent?" Saddler's aura snakes shook with laughter. He parroted Wesker's earlier words and tone. "Are you having second thoughts? You could leave. Take your people, your cringing scientists. I won't interfere."
"Conditions?" Wesker said, every bit the arrogant aristocrat. All he needed was a white glove to slap Saddler.
Saddler wasn't impressed. "To the death, of course," he said, as if speaking to an imbecile. "If I win, I take your men and replace the ganado I have lost. The others we will use for...entertainment." Saddler's grin turned into a leer when the scientists retreated with ashen faces – all except scientist geek who seemed to find the idea intriguing. "And if your men fire one shot – or those creatures in red and black aid you in any way – you forfeit. The same will apply to my ganado. And because I am a gracious and humble lord, I will allow you small firearms as weapons. You will need more than teeth and speed to overcome me."
"And if I win, I take your new pet, what I want from your labs, and your research. Then your island goes boom." Wesker illustrated this with a wiggling spread of his gloved fingers. "You understand, right? Can't have the world knowing of your existence. Or mine."
"Yes, yes. Come forward, rat. I want this unpleasantness finished. I have a weary lover to comfort and tame."
"Oh, he did not just say that." Leon balled his fists, his aura fizzing around him like grape champagne.
Sherry didn't comment, just watched, unblinking. Her aura brimmed with expectation. Everyone on the platform, the ganado, military, Blood Angels, and even the scientists all shared the same emotion. Let the battle commence.
If the Sovereign dies, you die.
"Who was that just now? They were speaking some weird language." Jarred from her trance, Sherry's aura frowned at him with dark bands of gold.
Leon turned his attention inward, seeking the voice. He tiptoed through his library, peeking in dark corners and looking behind stacks of books. Nothing. Another echo. Oh well, he had better get used to the daily chirping of these memory birds. Even if they sang songs that freaked him out.
Then one book slid off the top stack, hit the floor with cloud of dust. A few pages read and his soul stomach fluttered. Ah crap. Shit.
"Sherry, we have to stop the fight."
"There's no way I'm stopping them – not even if I wanted to. I want Wesker dead. Very dead. As dead as I can get him."
"Okay, dead. Got it. But if he wins, I'm screwed. The soul bond thing that Saddler did to me. It goes deep. Really deep. If Saddler dies – "
Her eyes went big with understanding. Sherry vanished in a puff of glitter, leaving him gaping at the empty space like an idiot.
Wesker strolled forward, trench coat flapping in the wind, his stoic manner and casual arrogance transforming him into a dark knight prepared to vanquish the troll king. Saddler glided toward him, his snakes arched and ready to devour the insignificant rat that defied them.
Saddler and Wesker bowed, feigning etiquette.
Sherry popped up next to Wesker, waving her arms and calling his name. Wesker ignored her, fixed his glowing cat eyes on Saddler and tensed, his aura shrinking. Saddler's robe rippled as massive crab-like limbs burst from all sides of his body, the ends tapering with talons the size of a man. His head tipped back like a broken bobble-head, a veiny yellow eye bulging from his throat as if trying to escape the teeth restraining it. Three armored pronged "things" sprouted around the eye and curled around Saddler's head. The human body swayed in the center, still clad in robes, nothing more than a lump of DNA to manipulate. On the joints of Saddler's legs glared another eye, four in all, with Saddler's head weaving like an ugly dandelion as the fifth.
And to think, he had fucked that less than an hour ago. Bonded with it. Forever.
Or maybe just until Wesker shot Saddler's eyeball head off.
Stop believing the worst. Saddler could win, easy, Sherry said, chiding.
Any luck?
The sense of exasperation from her, numerous failed attempts. His mind is closed. All his concentration's on Saddler. Let's wait and see what happens.
They'll end up killing each other. Promise you'll say something nice at my funeral, okay?
So optimistic, Leon. Even in the 'unlikely' event of Wesker winning, I will keep you alive. Somehow.
And how exactly are you gonna do that?
A pause. She twinkled like a star across the platform. Not sure. But I won't let you die, not after finally finding you. I'll keep you safe.
Sincere words, but if that book in his library was correct – and without a doubt it was – then he wouldn't survive unless Saddler cut him loose first. And the chances of that were non existent.
With his mutation finished, and goo done spraying everywhere, Saddler sprang into the air, vaulting his body to an impossible height. He pressed his limbs together, talons forming a lance, and dive-bombed the platform. That split second before impact, Wesker then showed Leon what Chris Redfield had meant by "really fucking fast."
The blur of black, and slight distortion of the space around him made it seem as if Wesker teleported away from Saddler's descending talons. Okay, that was impressive. And worrying. He couldn't feel the butterflies, but he knew his body could back in that little room. Armed with speed like that, Wesker had more than a fighting chance at winning.
Wesker's aura kept tight to his frame, but when he moved, it became a hazy halo that teased the eye with an after image, the barest hint of the man who had been there a fraction of a second before. Wesker wove in and out of Saddler's attacks, graceful as a stag, a magnum materializing in his gloved hands to shoot out two of the four eyes. Gore spattered the ground. Saddler laughed, the taunting sound muffled behind his lodged eye. Why didn't he just spit the damn thing out? Did he really need it when he had four – two others?
All others, the military, scientists, and Blood Angels gave the duelers a wide berth, switching sides – and in the case of the scientists – squeaking in fear as they scrambled out of the way. They reminded him of bowling pins unsure where to stack themselves for the ball. The Angels looked ready to charge despite the stern warning to keep out of it. Their auras roiled in a mess of anger and concern, rainbows that twisted themselves into knots. They feared for Wesker's safety. How much was he paying these people?
Nothing, said Sherry. They are his children, the ones who've survived his experiments. He has brainwashed them, lied to them. And most enjoy the power he has granted. As I said, only one was willing to listen.
A roar. More gunfire. Saddler and Wesker now pummeled each other on the other side of the platform, beyond the automated bridges that blinked red. With the bridges down, they would be over there for at least another thirty seconds. He nodded toward the angry rainbow team. Which one did you manage to snag?
That's not important. If all goes well we won't have to worry about the Angels.
The bridges raised with a cheerful beep. Green light. Go. Saddler leaped again, this time clearing the bridges entirely and landing on a pile of steel beams. What didn't clatter to the ground, Saddler sent hurling to the other side, a barrage of metal missiles meant to squash Wesker into a flat, black pancake. Wesker managed to dodge most with sinuous maneuvers, but one hit his shoulder, sending him sprawling into a pile of lumber. Wesker went to his knees, dazed. Saddler leapfrogged again, punched down with his crab legs, but hit nothing but air. His sunglasses falling off his face in pieces, Wesker spat out a mouthful of blood and evaded Saddler's second blow. And a third. And a fourth. His magnum appeared again, buying Wesker precious moments to escape the corner Saddler's pounding limbs had driven him into.
Leon glanced back at Sherry. She had her hands clasped at her chest, a child praying for a miracle. Her aura spun around her in hopeful loops. He didn't want to begrudge her, but taking joy in someone's demise – even an enemy – left a sour taste in his mouth. She had changed so much. And not for the better.
"Hey, what's that over there? It's all glowing."
It took him a second to realize one of the grunts now pointed at him. The others followed grunt's line of sight, all frowning in intervals as they tried to figure out what he was. Shit. Double shit.
Sherry! They can see me –
Sherry paid him no attention. Her face frozen in an expression he could only describe as rapture, she floated closer to the battle, toward Wesker as if she intended to distract him, make it easier for Saddler to land the final blow.
SHERRY!
His magnum either out of bullets, or lost, Wesker's knife flashed in the darkness. Out of range of the spotlights again, their forms became lumpy, struggling shadows. Saddler recoiled from Wesker, slashing at him with blades longer and sharper than that puny combat knife. Then Saddler howled in pain as another gouged eye rolled into view. Wesker's knife was obviously more than adequate.
Emotions began filtering into his mind. A trickle at first, but then that trickle became a raging waterfall. Leon held his head, struck by the thoughts Saddler projected over the link. Little black rat won't die fast enough; infidel, mongrel, halfbreed bastard – wait...what? What is this?
Saddler stopped, talon raised in midair. He jerked his shadow bobble-head to the left. Toward him.
This was not happening.
Just a trick of light, he wanted to think, but did not dare. Sherry's film reel of "Sleeping Leon" was already running out of tape. One stray thought, and he could end her loop.
A strange, heavy sensation, as if gravity had just realized his presence and wanted to punish him for having deceived it. His feet touched the platform, no sensation, but the dashes had connected into a solid outline. His aura brightened a few notches, grape champagne under fluorescent lights.
Next to Wesker, who now stared at her with mix of fury and bafflement, Sherry stood rigid, her mouth open and her body shaking. Her mental fingers clutched at the link between him and Saddler, but the link had become a silk scarf caught by the wind. It slipped from her hands, fluttering away.
"Who is that? How long has he been there?" The scientist geek said, offended, as if Leon had been hiding from him on purpose. Swiveling heads and small gasps. Fingers pointed. Great.
His body lit up like a lone Chinese lantern in the dark. "Sherry, are you okay? What the hell's happening?" Loud and clear. They could all hear him now. Surprise, a rare emotion for any Sovereign, jolted his nerves as Saddler realized his little love bunny wasn't sleeping where he had left him.
"How – what is this?" Saddler's eye disappeared down his throat, and Leon wondered in a faint, roundabout way what it had tasted like. The crab legs began retreating into the host's body, somehow compacting mass amounts of flesh and tissue to fit. Nothing short of amazing. He imagined mutations were like an unopened box of assembly parts. Once out and strewn over the floor, good luck in getting them all back inside.
Wesker glowered at Sherry, indifferent to her pain, her trembling. By his aura and hers, Leon assumed they were communicating telepathically. Flames scorched golden clouds, burning them to ash. Sherry dropped to her knees.
"Hey, knock it off. It's not her fault!" Leon started toward Wesker, but Saddler blocked his path. He flinched, remembering how vulnerable he was to psychic attacks. Before he could escape, Saddler's snakes wove around him, slithering against his aura, licking his gossamer flesh. They ensnared him, a purple pixie caught fleeing the nest.
"You deceive me with sorcery, with tricks. The duel is forfeit," Saddler spat at Wesker. Over his face, his skin flexed and swelled, tentacles ready to pop out of the box again. "Your witch has divided my Indigo's soul and body. She will put him right."
"She will do no such thing." Aside from a torn coat, blood crusting over what might had been scratches before they had healed, and smudges of dirt on his pale face, Wesker seemed uninjured. "From what my 'witch' tells me, if I had won, I would have also lost. You have bonded to Mr. Kennedy. A little detail you neglected to mention. By that alone, you forfeit, not I."
"Irrelevant. You accepted my terms, fool. And by them you are bound. Put him right!"
"Or what?" Wesker's pearly teeth shone, his eyes brighter than the bridge lights. Laughter in his voice, a hint of malevolence. "What will you do? I can order Sherry to make Kennedy whole, or I can leave him in that state. Threaten my destruction all you want. It's nothing but bluster. I hold the final card in this game. Can't play with a ghost, can you?"
"Nor can you, rat." Saddler voice dipped low, the menace freezing the air between them. Wesker clenched one fist, then relaxed. He tilted his head toward Sherry kneeling beside him, and studied her for a long moment, considering – or listening. Saddler's coiling snakes kept getting in the way. He couldn't make out the auras of Wesker or Sherry.
Let me see them, please. I can read Wesker's aura for you. Leon held his breath even though he technically didn't have to. Saddler didn't answer, but his snakes loosened their hold, giving him the room he needed to get a better look.
Wesker seemed unperturbed at his sudden appearance, but then again, he wouldn't have been "hidden" from them as they were from him. Wesker couldn't see auras, and neither could Sherry. So what had he looked like, struggling in that horde of snakes? A crazy man flailing at invisible bugs?
Read him. Saddler's command felt like a riding crop on his ass. His aura flushed a violent purple, his temper threatening. He made himself focus on Wesker, and tried to figure out what he and Sherry were saying to each other.
Wesker's aura burned steady, but his inner core stayed secret. No emotions either besides disappointment, and even that was hard to discern. He was up to something, certainly, but what, he couldn't tell.
Do better than that. The novelty of this is wearing thin.
Leon bit back a reply that would have had Saddler's snakes swallowing him whole. Sherry's aura had dimmed during its fight with Wesker's fire. It sparkled like a disco ball in the fog, one dusty from years of neglect. The emotions reflecting there: shame, guilt, and resentment were hard to look at without feeling he should share the blame somehow. He should have kept her near him, helped her keep a level head. Her excitement over ending Wesker had compromised her control over the bond link, and the shield she had used to keep herself and him from being detected. He could figure that much out on his own, but something nagged at him like an object out of focus in the distance. Too many veiled looks between them, the tensing of her shoulders and the glares from Wesker, the almost fatherly anger. Something wasn't right.
Her eyes found his, and her head gave tinniest shake. So tiny it he could have imagined it. He looked at Wesker and found him staring back, his expression neutral and predatory at the same time. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Wesker said. Even though he addressed Saddler, those words weren't for him. "I say again. We have a common foe – humanity. We should be allies. Umbrella had always wanted that, even had envoys prepared and treaties written, but Raccoon City happened before they could make contact with you. We have both lied, tried to sabotage one another. But no harm, no foul. Let's start over. To show good faith, I will have Sherry put Leon's consciousness back into his body, but in doing so, I hope this would show you my sincerity. This doesn't have to end in bloodshed. I want to work with you. As equals."
His aura's not flaring or wavering. He's telling the truth. Leon couldn't believe it himself. Saddler pursed his lips, then set them in a grim, thin line. His snakes mused a moment, weighing the pros and cons of a partnership with the "little black rat". Though he hid it well, Saddler's mutation had fatigued him. His aura seemed paler, brown blood instead of fresh. His snakes not quite as lively. The link also felt worn, singed along the edges as if someone had taken a match to it. Sherry had done damage before Saddler shook her off. But how much damage?
Sherry's incandescent hands curled on the ground. She had heard him thinking. Saddler's mind pondered elsewhere, the bond link idling like an empty car in the driveway. Unsure what he was doing, or why, Leon sent the image of Saddler's aura toward Sherry, along with hurried traces of thoughts, each one no more tangible than sunlight on water. Mutation...draining...weak...conflicted...frustrated.
Perfect.
Not Sherry's thought. It carried no warmth. Instead, icy contempt. Wesker. His mind must be "piggybacking" on Sherry's threadbare link. Then that meant her mind had never left, just ducked out of sight when Saddler had discovered her. As if to verify his theory, Leon felt her come back, slinking under Saddler's nose, delicate strings of her will wrapping around the hooks fused to his soul. He became afraid then, not understanding why.
Saddler sensed his fear, and then he sensed Sherry.
"Your witch tries to take him again!" Saddler's robes flapped around his legs, one talon rearing like a cobra without the hiss or the fanned hood, but poised to strike all the same.
"No. She is preparing upon our agreement to return his soul to his body. That's what you want, right? To do so she must have access to him through your bond. I'm sorry if this disturbs you, Osmund. But it's the only way." Wesker's tone, calm, rational. Saddler snorted like a horse, and tried to pierce Sherry with his icicle eyes. She bowed her head, the picture of submission.
After glaring at her for several uncomfortable moments, Saddler said, "I have one condition of our alliance. Your witch has offended me. After she returns him, I want her head."
"That is acceptable." Wesker said. No hesitation. Not even a flicker in his aura. Son of a bitch.
"No!" Leon's outburst startled Saddler, granted him temporary freedom. The snakes reached for him, but he was already at Sherry's side. He hugged her against him, a precious thing he had to protect. Everyone was dead. Ashley, Ada, Luis, everyone that had helped him. He would not lose another. Not her. "You can't kill Sherry! She means something to me –"
Saddler's talon swayed in the air, intent on delivering the fatal bite. "What she has done is inexcusable! The foul witch has tainted our link. After this is over I must repair the tears and holes –"
"If there's a snowball's chance of me caring for you, of me...loving you like the others – she stays alive and unharmed. She didn't taint anything, she was only trying to help. You've seen my memories right? You know I've searched for her for fucking years. Years!" Now he was shaking worse than she was, his aura getting brighter and brighter. Any brighter and he would evaporate or burn himself up. She clasped his hand, her grip so tight it would have cut off the blood flow had he been a real boy.
Wesker and Saddler exchanged a look, raised eyebrows of parents with temperamental children. Under normal circumstances it would have been amusing, considering those two had just tried to kill each other. Now it pissed him off. "Fuck your alliance. She stays alive. Or I stay a ghost. You choose."
That made Saddler take a step forward, those tentacles under his robes itching to pin him down, spank him a few times. The exposed talon swished like a tail. "Servants do not order their masters." That deadly purr. The books in his library were full of those purrs. Centuries of them. Every kind, from sweet and content, to the one he heard now. This was the purr you didn't fuck with, the one that made you stand back and go whoa, shouldn't have said that.
He squared his shoulders – not defiant, not stubborn, but resolute. "I'm not ordering you," he said, uncaring how bad his voice quavered or how much he was humiliating himself in front of Wesker. "I'm begging you."
Saddler measured him, inhaling slow and deep. His dimming snakes twitched with indecision. Wesker stood to the side, his hands behind his back like a bored politician, unruffled by the shed of tears and emotion. Even his aura yawned. Prick.
Wesker may be a hardass, but Leon had the bond to aid his plea, all his emotions channeling to Saddler like a great river, floating boats riding the waves, each filled with memories of Sherry when he had first met her, frightened of being alone, sobbing over the death of her mother, fear of her father and what he had become. The heartache of losing her, the desperate search that followed. Claire leaving him behind. He left nothing out, no matter how painful.
Everyone else, ganado, military, and the like all watched the drama unfold with undivided attention. The spotlights added a theatrical flare, all four of them illuminated like actors on a stage. They even had special effects with their spiritual bodies aglow. He just hoped this wasn't any play Shakespeare would produce. Everyone ended up dead or crazy.
"Against my better judgment, and with regard only to your past with this...girl child. I will spare her. But if I see her again after this, even for a moment, I will not hesitate to finish what I began here. Do you understand?" Saddler held his hand out, tentacles no longer thrashing under his robes, the cobra talon disappearing. "Now come, I want you by my side."
Sherry squeezed him in reassurance and let go. No words, but she didn't need to say anything. It was all in her eyes. She and Wesker. They had a plan. He cast the thought out of his mind as soon as it had entered, concentrating on one reluctant step forward until he reached Saddler's outstretched hand. He couldn't touch it, but he brushed against it anyway, playing the obedient servant.
"Now return him." Saddler impatience clipped his words. "And I will honor our agreement."
"Very well. Sherry?" Wesker motioned for her to get up. She rose and took a dainty ballerina step forward. He half-expected her to do a curtsy. Her aura looked better. The fog had lifted, the gauzy disco ball a little cleaner, more sparkling.
"You'll feel me intruding. And for that I apologize. It's the only way," Sherry said, demure and soft words to tame the beast. "Please don't fight me. I can't make Leon whole again if you do."
Saddler huffed, gestured with a flick of his wrist. "Do it and leave my sight. Your light sickens me."
A curt nod and Sherry's mind continued what it had attempted earlier. Her will became fingers, hot yet gentle, probing the bond, pausing over the frayed ends and nicks she had caused. Saddler growled, his thoughts snapping at her, a wary dog guarding his territory. She stood her ground, fearless, and waited for him to retreat.
You must let me finish. I can't do this if you keep interfering.
Saddler's will backed off, now a dog grumbling in his corner, but still watchful, still prepared to pounce if necessary. Sherry's fingers slid over the bond, the sensation more intimate than Leon had anticipated. He made a small noise, closed his eyes. He flexed under her touch, a wild animal petted for the first time. In the darkness, Saddler growled a warning, but stayed put. Sherry ignored him, and stroked harder, deeper. She peeled back the layers of the bond one at a time, petals of a rare and precious flower, until her fingers caressed the thorns, the hooks fusing him to Saddler.
Saddler bolted to his feet, ears raised and teeth bared. This is not right. Why must you go this far to return him?
The question came too late.
Like a blooming sea anemone, Sherry's fingers elongated, became thousands of tendrils, her will latching onto the hooks, pulling, yanking, wedging herself between them and his soul. On the platform, and in their pixie bodies, she braced herself against him, arms around his chest as if she intended to fall backwards and take him with her. All his instincts said to struggle, but he stayed calm. This was Sherry. She wouldn't hurt him.
No I wouldn't. I said I would keep you safe, but I've never done this before. I don't know if I can keep you from following him. I promise, whatever it takes – even my own death. You'll be free from him, I swear.
Inside their joined minds, Saddler clawed at the barrier Sherry had erected around them, but he could not breech it. For every tear he made, she repaired. For every hole he dug, she filled. He slammed on it, tried to shove his way past it, tried to shake it loose. Every effort left him weaker and weaker, until exhausted, his will collapsed. His physical body soon after, a dull thud as he hit the ground. Through the winding tunnel to the platform, the ganado cried out.
Now. Do it now, Sherry's thought to Wesker, and past the layers of the bond, and his fading sight of reality, he saw Wesker's satisfied grin. His flames rose in victory.
"Saddler, Saddler. It's a shame, really, how gullible you are. Did you think I would share power? No, not when the dangled carrot is so tempting and ripe. And now that carrot is mine. But don't worry, I'll take good care of Leon for you." Wesker chuckled over Saddler's defenseless body, savoring the moment. He nodded to his men. "Leave no ganado alive. And Angels? Tear this thing apart."
His sight went black. But he felt. Everything they did to Saddler, they did to him. Not even Sherry's mental cocoon could stifle the agony of limbs ripping free, the gush of blood and fluid leaving him. Convulsing fingers before they tore off. Bones breaking, shattering. Their hands inside, nails razor-tipped and burning. Teeth, jagged and broken gnawing through muscle and soft organs. Chewing. Swallowing.
Oh God, they were eating him.
Shh, stay strong. It'll be over. Soon. I promise, I promise. Hang on. For me. Hang on. She was crying, saying nonsense things in his mind. Her arms wrapped tighter, and he realized his soul body lay on the platform, her on top of him, a blatant sexual position had it been somewhere else and with a lot less torture. He shuddered when Saddler shuddered. Death throes. The link between him and Saddler pulled away, snapping like cables from a collapsing bridge, but Sherry kept a firm grip, strained to keep him from tumbling into the waters. But her fingers began slipping, his soul skin slick with blood.
"Stop it! I'm losing him!" Next to his ear, but he could barely hear her. Wesker said something, a faint mumble, but with unmistakable irritation. The final thread of the bond clung to him, the last vibrating cable of the bridge. Saddler, unwilling even in his death to let him go. They had been together for over thousands of years, endured host after host, fought battles they won and lost, an eternal war that drove them all to madness. Maybe it was better to end it now. Sleep. Like Jase, all curled up in a shadow somewhere, covered with a blanket of darkness. Peaceful.
She wrapped her legs around him, her arms, her fingers, her soul, her will. Anything to anchor him to her. No, don't give up. Don't you dare, Leon! Live, damn you. LIVE. Don't leave me! Stay with me!
Child, the thought came as a whisper, raspy and paper thin. I'll be back for you.
The cable broke, the bond crumpled into the ocean of nothing. But he floated above the waters, still intact, a slender body entwined around him. Sherry's grateful sigh in his ear, her will and mind easing away. He opened his eyes, saw her above him, radiant as an saint.
"Almost lost you," she said, smiling through her tears. Poor thing, she looked as bad as he felt. The injuries dealt to Saddler echoed in his mind, phantom pain that had him jerking with small, sporadic seizures. Eating, they had been eating him. She placed her hand on his chest, and his twitching stopped. Dark shapes appeared behind her. One bent over, his red eyes aflame.
"You can put him back now, Sherry." Wesker said. Again, that appraising look on his lean face, but this time with intent to purchase. Why had Sherry suddenly obeyed him when she wanted him dead? Had he threatened her? Coerced her?
I'll explain it when I send Danny for you. He's the one I have on my side. Now be still, this will feel a little awkward.
The sense of heaviness increased, but his body looked less substantial. He could see through himself now, his aura diluted red wine. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound. He tried again, his throat straining in effort.
Just relax, close your eyes. You'll feel a pull.
Wesker, hands on his knees, the cruel quirk of his lips. "I'll see you soon, Kennedy. I look forward to making a proper introduction. Until then."
Reality blurred into a shapeless blob. His soul free-fell through the platform, though metal and stone, plaster and dirt, his physical body a magnet that yanked him down faster and faster. He crashed into his flesh, his limbs flopping on the cold floor as if protesting his return.
Stunned and battered, he stared into the dark, unable to move, uncertain if the room was real. Inside, his soul felt scored, bruised. A hole remained where the bond once connected. A tiny torn gap. It would heal, a small wound like that. It would close up, maybe scar. He could handle a scarred soul.
What will you do if it doesn't heal? What if the hole gets bigger?
He shushed the echo in his head. Just one of the hosts being a party pooper. He was alive. Saddler was gone...maybe. The bond was severed at least. But that last thought Saddler sent – had the Angels killed him? Though all the tearing and shredding, it had seemed so. He would have to ask Sherry what happened, get the details. He had to know for sure.
And now he had another problem. A red-eyed problem wearing a black trench coat and who moved faster than Speedy Gonzales. Wesker's voice filtered through his thoughts, melodious and taunting.
But don't worry, I'll take good care of Leon for you.
Had he traded one master for another?
Like hell.

I'll write up a commentary for this chapter. I have a cold and I'm not feeling pretty enough for youtube. Sorry :(
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