Survivor's Guilt - Leon Kennedy x Reader

2. Best Time

Leon's Perspective

"I just got out of the hospital, god damn it," I say while running a hand through my hair and looking down at my watch.

I hear Hunnigan sigh in my ear. "Look, everyone else is already assigned to a mission. We weren't expecting them to not have any samples. You still have to finish the job."

"So what? Another babysitting job? This is like the president's daughter all over again."

"You'll only have to find a reliable source of infected blood and protect the girl as she works on the sample," Hunnigan offers.

"So yeah, a babysitting job," I snort.

There's a pause.

"I'm gonna go now." The earpiece cuts off.

"Sassy today, Hunnigan," I whisper to myself and check my watch again. She's late. Very late.

Hunnigan tracked down a small town in Europe with a small population of infected people. What's most interesting is that there's a large population of uninfected people. Hunnigan said this was our best bet at getting safe access to infected blood since there seems to be a safe community.

I'm leaning on one of the walls inside of the private airport. It's only used by agents, so there are only around ten choppers. Today, though, we get to use the private jet.

The polished stone is cool against my back and there's a slight hum coming from the florescent lights overhead. There's a large window that stretches from one end of the wall to the other that gives a view of the runway outside. Besides that, it's deserted here. Only a few staff members walking about, their footsteps echoing through the space. The faint smell of jet fuel and coffee lingers. A peculiar, but not unpleasant smell.

There's the faint clicking of heels on the marble floor in the distance. My gaze shifts towards the large glass doors. When I turn my attention, I see a woman being escorted by two heavily armored men, both carrying large guns.

I push myself off the wall with my foot and jut my chin up at the men. They notice me and walk in my direction. The woman is staring daggers.

"Agent Leon, this is Y/f/n. She'll be the one you... escort." The man gives me a look of uncertainty.

I look down at the woman. She looks pissed.

I raise my eyebrows at her and put out a hand for her to shake, "I'm Leon Kennedy."

She limply shakes my hand, her hand soft and small in mine but limp as a dead fish. "Dazzled," the sarcasm in her voice rang like a siren.

"Well, she's all yours," one of the men says. Both of them look at me with an expression of 'good luck'. They leave quickly and there's an awkward moment between me and the girl.

"Alrighty then," I shrug. "Terminal's that way," I point a finger in the general direction.

"I'm gonna get a coffee," she says and begins walking in the opposite direction. Her heels click as she walks away from me.

"You're not gonna let this be easy for me, are you?" I say and begin following behind. She smells of sweet perfume.

She doesn't look back at me as she speaks, "I'm basically a hostage of the state, trust me when I say I'm not very pleased."

I quicken my pace to catch up with her. "I get that," I reply. "But you don't have to make this harder than it already is."

She stops abruptly, and I nearly bump into her. She turns to face me, her eyes fierce and unyielding. "Harder? Harder for you? I'm the one who got dragged into this mess. My life isn't mine anymore. I didn't ask for your protection, Agent Kennedy." The words feel like daggers.