Catabolism - Part Two: Diplopia

Chapter Four

Leon felt like a ticking time bomb. If it was not one thing, it was another. If it was not the traffic, it was the asshole at the gate. He did not have time for this, and he had certainly run out of patience months ago. Maybe even years.

He nearly had his official government ID fished out, when a voice called, "Let him in."

Leon looked up to see Chris Redfield walking through the lot beyond the security gate, heading their way. He waved the guard down, and Leon practically rushed through the gate.

"Hey, sorry," Chris said, rubbing the back of his neck. There were dark circles under his eyes, already not a good sign of how things went. "I meant to meet you out here, but I got... caught up.

"What happened?" Leon really could not wait another second for answers. Not receiving a follow-up call about the mission probably took weeks off his life "You said you got him?"

Maddeningly, all Chris had said over the phone was that the tip had been good, that the target was confirmed. It was partially his own fault, warning Chris that he and the rest of the DSO were slightly at odds with the whole situation. It had been so long, but he still wanted to air on the side of caution, hence the vague report.

As it was, Leon hated the whole situation, having to pass off the mission. It had been his case, his failure. Time had not healed anything, instead it festered. Too often in the back of his mind. But when the lead came in to the BSAA, he had to shove everything down and admit that catching Elliott was more important than his wounded pride.

Chris let out a heavy sigh and turned, Leon following as they walked toward the looming building that was the BSAA East Coast base. "Yeah."

"Did he—" Leon began, his sleep-deprived brain buzzing.

"He's dead, Leon," Chris interrupted flatly, barely glancing over.

It was an answer, but it hit him like a slap in the face. His next sentence stalled somewhere between his brain and his mouth. "What happened?" Leon questioned again. He was getting close to throwing punches. Why did Chris have to be like that, when he knew this case mattered to Leon? "Did you—"

"He was dead when we got there. Someone clearly got to him first."

"Someone?" Leon frowned deeply, trying to read the man's face. He detected frustration. Another bad sign. There was a deep fatigue in his voice, a slouch to his frame.

Chris nodded. "He'd been shot in the head. There was no weapon present, and the coroner is pretty confident it wasn't self-inflicted. They put the time of death around the time we received the call, so the smart money is on whoever killed him also called it in anonymously so we could find it."

Leon's pace slowed, absorbing the new information. He could really formulate one possible theory. "It might have been Taliah," he muttered, partially to himself. It had been weeks since he last said her name out loud, and yet his pulse reacted. "She could have done it, called it in, and escaped again. You said you hadn't found her, so—"

But Chris had stopped walking, turning to face him fully. Eye to eye. "We did find her."

That stopped Leon in his tracks. The pause was utterly unbearable, the weight of the truth dragging him under. Any distance he had put, any boundaries he had meticulously constructed in his mind regarding the case, regarding Taliah herself, cracked right through the foundations.

He had been right. Elliott had locked her away again. He did not believe for a second that she was dead, he refused to. And they did find her, so why the hell did no one call to tell him? The only reason to save that information until they were face-to-face was if...