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"Moving in," Leon says casually over the radio, to which Hunnigan hums in confirmation. She's staring at the little red dot that is his location, stirring her first evening coffee in an attempt to make it through this night shift. She's not unused to working off hours, but this mission is already taking more time than it was meant to, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't worried about this one.
"What are you seeing?" she asks, bringing her mug to her lips. "Anything?"
"Nope." If Leon's as perturbed as she is by the lack of people inside the hidden mountain facility, he doesn't show it. Still, she can hear him breathing slow and steady over the line, controlled and preparing himself for a fight. "Seems like everyone just up and---"
The sound of a shout breaks through the silence, and Leon curses. Immediately, Hunnigan is at attention, setting her coffee down hard enough for it to slosh over the edge on one side. "Leon? What's---"
"I've got a welcome party," he says tightly, the sound of a gunshot snapping through the connection. He grunts. "Fuck!"
"Are you hit?"
The sound of closer shots---Leon's, judging by the familiar report of his customized gun---is her only answer, before another few distant shots reply. Leon cries out in pain, the sound strangled. She can hear a crash, the sound of a grenade and the line goes silent for a long moment.
"Leon!" she cries, to no avail. Around her, fellow FOS agents have started to notice, the ones not currently involved in a mission glancing through her windows. Hunnigan grits her teeth. She's about to reach for a line to an extraction team when Leon's voice crackles through the connection again.
"Hunnigan," he croaks, voice choked and breaths laboured. "I'm gonna need---the calvalry."
Hunnigan curses and reaches for the computer keyboard. She's about to click on her first objective when the sound of laughter flickers through the line, freezing her in place. That's not a voice she recognizes.
"Well, well, what have we here?" the voice sneers from afar, just barely audible. "Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with, agent?"
Leon groans. "Already not a fan of the monologuing." He still sounds breathless, pained and tense. There's the sound of an impact and Leon grunts, before an anguished cry escapes him. Hunnigan can't breathe.
"F---fuck," Leon manages, wet like there's something in his mouth. Blood, probably. "Nothing like---kicking a man while he's down, huh?"
The voice laughs. "You're fiesty. Grab the taser."
"Wait!" Hunnigan shouts, but it's too late---there's a buzz, a crackle and a gurgle, and the line goes dead.
She stares at her screen as Leon's light blinks out. There's only one person who can save him now.
-~-
Leon wakes to the sound of quiet chatter, his body tensing as he becomes aware of the pain coursing through every nerve, the ache in his head prompting bitten-off groan. His back rests against a solid surface, shoulders pressing into the ground and dampened with what must be his blood. He winces as he tries and fails to open his eyes---one of them is swollen shut and crusted with blood, but that makes sense, considering they'd left him lying on the cement after beating the shit out of him. He'll be lucky if there's no internal bleeding, several ribs undoubtedly cracked by the violent kicks they'd rained down on him for what felt like an eternity before picking him up by the underarms as he faded into unconsciousness.
Shit. They captured him.
He forces himself to open his eyes with a gasp, the dull material of what looks like a military tent coming into view. With the adrenaline overriding every thought, Leon can barely process the sight before he's frantically scanning over his own body---nude beneath the thin blanket---and catching sight of the IV line taped to the inside of his elbow and the thick cuff wrapped around his bicep. Shit, shit, shit, what are they doing to him?!
He lunges for the cuff and tears it from his arm, movement in the corner of his eye only spurring on his panic. He can't hear over the rush of his pulse, the fear that floods through him as his fingers grasp the IV tubing and rip it free of his skin with a sting and a gout of blood. He doesn't want anything these fuckers are putting into him, but the thought that he might already be too late makes him nauseous as blood spatters his torso. He yanks his finger free of the cordless oximeter and pushes himself upwards just in time for a shadow to loom over him, Leon's breath hitching as he lashes out at the goon surely come to subdue his escape attempts---
"Leon!"
A strong hand catches his wrist, firm pressure---but gentle, Leon notices wildly---halting his arm in the trajectory it had been in. He gasps, thrashing, but the person holds firm, scarred fingers wrapping easily around the width of Leon's slim wrist.
"Let me go!" he cries. "Go fuck yourself, you---"
"Shh." To his surprise, the person places a careful hand on his shoulder, but not a restrictive one. Instead, it moves with Leon's body, a squeezing, careful pressure. "You're alright, Leon. You're in a hospital, you're safe."
"No! N-no---"
"Leon." The voice goes calm, low. Familiar, but Leon can't seem to register it over the panic in his veins. "Leon, can you look at me? Just for a second, okay?"
Leon gasps helplessly and finally lets himself go limp against the surface beneath him, head lolling upwards. His brows crease as he catches sight of familiar dark eyes and a wide, concerned jaw, the figure's broad shoulders blocking out the light the way they always do. "Chris?"
"It's me. You're alright, just take some deep breaths."
The hand on Leon's shoulder smoothes carefully over his bare collarbone, the hand on his wrist relaxing its grip enough to allow Leon's arm to thunk to the bed beside him. He groans as the pain starts to sink in from his various injuries, adrenaline slowly starting to drain. His thigh aches---a bullet wound, he remembers with some difficulty, the one that cruel man had dug his boot into when he wanted to watch Leon squirm. His head pounds, the two broken fingers on his right hand bound tightly to the pressure holding them straight.
He coughs, glancing down at himself. There's a tube coming out of his left side that's dotted with red, the bandage covering it taped down and surrounded by bruises. The sluggish drag of painkillers is evident in the slowness of his movements; the fog obscuring his thoughts. He frowns up at Chris. "What...?"
"Shh," Chris murmurs again, "just rest. Deep breaths."
Leon sighs, closing his eyes for a second and letting his head fall back. The panic still flutters in his chest, having missed the memo that it doesn't need to keep him alive anymore, but he's starting to feel exhausted. "Where are we?"
"BSAA field hospital," Chris says gently, reaching across him and picking up the arm Leon had ripped his IV from. "You're bleeding. I'll have to get a medic to come in, but in the meantime---"
He grabs a piece of gauze from a nearby tray and presses it down firmly on the oozing hole in Leon's elbow. Leon sighs. "I feel like hell."
"We've got you now," Chris says simply. His hand is warm on Leon's skin. Soothing.