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Tenebrae	By : Raptor6411 Category: +M through R > Resident Evil Views: 13263 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
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Lacking windows in his sterile compartment, the only way Leon
could tell the plane was descending was when his ears began to pop. Sighing
heavily in the recycled air of his chamber, Leon
reminded himself that his current situation was for the good of everyone.
However, that didn�t make the isolation chafe much less.

He was in the retrofitted cargo hold of a jet aircraft,
confined in his usual clear plastic box and surrounded by clean white living
accoutrements. He had been given various books to amuse himself with and John
regularly visited him with updates both on his condition and the continuing
results of his actions in Spain, but more and more he found his thoughts
turning to Ashley, and he wondered what was happening to her amidst all of it.

His stay aboard the Peregrine had lasted only a few days
before he had been transferred to the plane. John had explained he was being
taken back to the States, to a remote CDC installation for observation during
his quarantine. Quarantine. It felt more like an incarceration
to him. John had been less than sympathetic, stating that Leon
knew full well the possible unknown risks involved in his exposure to the
parasites. While he understood that he was acting somewhat childish, there
wasn�t much else to do in his box but sulk.

The bump and squeak of the landing wheels hitting a runway
brought him from his thoughts. The door leading to the forward compartments
opened and one of the pilots, dutifully masked, stuck his head in.

�Agent Kennedy, we�ve arrived sir. When we taxi to the
unloading zone, you need to move with the men that will come to get you as
quickly as possible to the containment center.�

Leon
nodded his understanding, standing up from his sitting position to move to the
back of his cube.

It wasn�t long before the loading bay of the plane hissed
open on its hydraulics and several masked and suited men swiftly moved him down
white tile hallways to a sort of shower conveyor belt that looked like it would
be normally used for chemical washes, where he was treated to another
embarrassing public shower and physical. He was quickly becoming tired of being
poked, prodded and measured, but wearily he knew he still had a little less
than a month to go before freedom was restored to him.

By the time they had finished examining him Leon was feeling
an acute sympathy towards grocery shelf cantaloupe. Handed another disposable
pair of papery drawstring pants and matching shirt, he was led out of the scrub
room and down another featureless hallway to his next residence, which he was
pleased to note was a real room with a real door, albeit a room and door with a
complete lack of windows.

The room was a small rectangle of a space, with two beds on either wall, a small bathroom in the back, a bookcase
against the far wall stacked high with board games and cheap novels, and that
was about it. Like most places built by the military it was not designed for
privacy. A green plastic sheet hung from a slide bar in the middle of the room
and could be drawn to separate the beds- apart from that there were no other
concessions to personal space. The bathroom lacked a door and to make matters
worse, the shower stall did too and was lined up directly with the opening into
the main room. It was clear the room had been originally designed to cater to a
more incapacitated class of client, what with the easy access shower stall and
low to the floor toilet. Fortunately he was flying solo for this lock in.

When the door closed behind him with a heavy thud he felt
like he had been entombed. The room was absolutely silent, lacking even so much as the faint buzz of fluorescent lighting. He had a
brief image of himself sitting on the floor against one wall while endlessly
bouncing a ball against the other. He sighed. They could have at least given
him a little more room to pace.

___

Monday again. Each morning they
came and took away his clothes to be incinerated, leaving him with a fresh
pair. The matching papery shirt and pants were a different color every day.
Today was pink day. It clashed horribly with his fair skin and hair and made
him look like a big tub of Pepto Bismol.
A sad, lonely tub of Pepto Bismol.

He hated the crackly rustle the clothes made when he moved.
He hated the too bright ambient lighting. He hated the healthy and unfailingly
bland meals that were delivered to him three times a day. He hated the poor
choice of novels available to him. He hated the chemical smelling bathroom with
the rough soap and caustic shampoo. He just hated this place.

During the day he stared at the ceiling, read bad books and
slowly counted away the hours. At night he lay his
head on the raspy pillowcase and dreamed. Sometimes the dreams were more memory
than anything- monsters stalked his nightscape. Other times they were a jumble
of the present, the past and the sheer lunacy that plays a part in all dreams.
But some nights he found himself waking up to the barely remembered sensation
of soft skin against his lips, of blond hair feathered out on the pillow next
to him. His senses prickled to the fading imprint of warm kisses. Sometimes he
could almost smell her.

He was fairly certain he was going crazy in his confinement.

It wasn�t until several such dreams had driven him to
desperation that he carefully checked the room for cameras so he could masturbate
in the relative surety that he wasn�t being watched. If they had seen anything,
they didn�t give it away. After awhile he stopped caring, since there wasn�t
much else to do.

Something was different about this Monday. Several pairs of
footsteps had come and gone in the hallway outside his door. He had expected
them to come inside- physicals were a daily ritual to monitor his progress, or
thus far his lack of it. The doctors inevitably had cold hands but at least
they wore gloves. But the hurried pace the footsteps held today were out of
place in the almost oppressive calm the facility kept. He considered it
fortunate that the room wasn�t soundproof. In the complete absence of windows,
silence would have cemented his isolation.

The click of the door lock disengaging seemed loud in the
small space, and he jerked himself upright with some resignation, awaiting
another physical. Instead he was surprised to find John stepping into the room,
suited in the usual biohazard array. The mask he wore though did little to hide
the annoyance there.

�John?�

�Leon.
There�s been a change of plans.� The way he said it made it very clear that he
had not been involved in the decision making. �This goes against all
recommendation and frankly I don�t fucking like it when people go over my
head-�

A voice rang out in the hallway behind him, along with the
clatter of multiple footsteps. �Leon!�

All his attention was immediately pulled from John. The
voice was intimately familiar. �Ashley? Is that you?�

Ashley pushed past John and all but flung herself at him.
Only some quick thinking saved him from being knocked over backwards as he
braced himself against the bed frame. Her slender arms squeezed him tightly and
dimly he began to register that she was wearing the same sort of clothes that
he was. With nothing but a thin sheet of paper separating them, the full body
embrace was decidedly inappropriate. Bewildered, he returned her embrace while
trying to think of a way to remove her before anyone else came in the room.

�Oh my God, I�m so glad to see you, you�re okay-�

�Ashley? Ashley, what are you doing here-�

John was still talking over the commotion. �-Under direct orders to move her. I was very clear that I
didn�t like it but the President wouldn�t-�

�-I didn�t know where they had taken you, they said I
couldn�t see you or anything-�

�What? Where? Ashley, you�re standing on my foot-�

�-Had to assure the President this was a secure location,
the staff aren�t prepared for a second detainee, we�ll have to pull another set
of doctors-�

�Hold it!� He shout brought both of them to a standstill,
though Ashley still didn�t relinquish her grip around his neck. �Sir, what
exactly is going on here?�

John shot Ashley a dark look- she merely turned away and
buried her face back in Leon�s
neck. �Ashley requested she be moved to quarantine with you. The President
consented� After some time and under duress.�

Ashley moved her head up to whisper in his ear. �I whined.�

Leon
blinked. �Isn�t this against containment procedure?�

�Yes. But under direct orders, I�
Look. I�m just doing my job. If you still desire a more complete explanation,
ask Miss Graham. In the meantime, I have to make arrangements for this.�

John left, still looking more than a little pissed off. The
heavy door boomed loudly behind him as it closed. Leon knew he hated being
overruled. Turning his head he looked down at Ashley, who once again planted
her face against his shoulder and refused to meet his gaze. �Ashley, what the
fuck is going on?�

He small fingers fiddled with the edge of his shirt around
his neck, occasionally brushing his skin in a contact that sent small shivers
down his spine. �After we left the boat-�

�Ship.�

She rolled her eyes. �Okay, ship. After we left the ship
they took me to a place like this one.� She moved away from him for a moment to
survey their surroundings. �Though it was a little more
upscale. Anyway, I kept asking about you but they said I couldn�t
leave.� She shrugged. �I was bored, and lonely. I wanted to see you.�

The confession sparked a few small emotions Leon
couldn�t name. She continued. �So when my Dad came to visit, I complained. A lot.� She had the grace to look sheepish. �After awhile he
told them to take me here to stay with you. I mean, that�s okay, right? Didn�t
you want company?�

�Well, yeah. I guess so.� It was a massive understatement, but he played it
cool.

�See? It won�t be so bad if we�re in here together.�

His legs were starting to fall asleep and he wondered if she
ever intended to get off of him. His quandary was solved when she slipped from
his lap to wander around the room, inspecting it. She wrinkled her nose as she
took full stock of their accommodations. Upon seeing the wide open bathroom,
her mild disgust turned into something verging on panic.

�Um, Leon?
The shower doesn�t have a door.� She pointed, despite her target being only
several feet away of Leon
and in obvious full view. �And neither does the bathroom. And they�re lined up
with each other.�

The realities of the living space came flooding back to him
as he really began thinking about the details of them sharing the room. �It
used to be a nursing room, I think. For people too banged up to take care of
themselves.�

�That�s nice,� She said absently, still looking at the
exhibitionist bathroom. �What are we going to do about it?�

�I guess we could ask them for a sheet or something.�

John reemerged through the door, not looking any appreciably
calmer. �Okay, things are in motion. And before I leave, I�d like you to know
Miss Graham that your presence will not be allowed to interfere with the
quarantine procedures. This is a matter of national security and that does not
allow for pampering. Is that understood?�

�Yes,� Ashley said meekly, obviously choosing her battles.
John grunted in response, slamming the door behind him again. Leon
looked over at her, seeing she had returned to her worried contemplation of the
restroom.

�Regretting certain decisions at this point?�

She smiled at him then, a beautiful full mouthed grin. �Not
for a moment.�
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Tenebrae