#it's more than just him who sees how unfair the government is

[silvercap]

if you’re taking prompt requests 👀 leon and either shaky from starvation or staggering from exhaustion? dealer’s choice hehe

Sure ☺️ (Prompts)

He's almost to the Evac point when his knees give out, spilling Leon limply across the dirt as a strangled, pathetic noise squeaks out from his throat and his gun falls somewhere at his side. His legs tremble and cramp from days of running and crouching, muscles spent and pushed even further past their limits by the limping, staggering steps he's been forced to rely on for the past several hours. His injured ankle screams at him in the absence of stimulation, a ragged seed of pain blossoming into something excruciating now that Leon isn't pushing through it to make himself move. He groans, a pitiful sound. So this is what's become of the great Leon S. Kennedy---sprawled in the dirt half a mile from the rendezvous point, and too weak to even pull himself upright again.

There's blood still soaking his chest and thigh where BOW claws and shrapnel, respectively, had dug into the soft, unprotected flesh with violent force. Leon coughs, feeling the pang of smaller wounds across his body that only seem amplified by the hollowness in his gut, days without food or supplies only making the sluggish exhaustion more insistent to drag him down to the dirt and never let him go. He'd lost his pack on the very first day. Typical. He'd make a joke if laughing didn't feel impossible.

Something buzzes in his ear, short and sharp, and Leon stifles a whine.

"Come in, Kennedy," an unfamiliar voice says, the man he knows is meant to pick him up. They've never met before today, but Hunnigan had sent him once Leon finally got his comms working again, so Leon's pretty sure he'd be able to trust the man. He makes a sound halfway between an angry cry and a sob. He'll never make it to the evacuation point to see if it's true. "Kennedy, we are landing now, do you copy? We don't see you anywhere; over."

Trembling fingers trip clumsily up to his ear, the little button clicking as Leon lets his eyes fall closed. The cool dirt is nice on his cheek. " 's 'cause I'm not there," he slurs with an empty laugh, dampness forming under his eyelids. "Promise I tried. I really did."

There's a brief silence.

"Kennedy, what's your status? I don't understand; over."

Leon laughs, the sound closer to whimpering. Maybe he did have the energy after all. "I'm not gonna make it. Jus' go home, see your family," he rasps, hating the dullness of his own voice. He always knew he'd go out this way. It shouldn't be as much of a shock as it is, but he can't help but admit how frustratingly close he'd been to surviving another impossible mission. At least he made a good run of it.

"Kennedy, what's your status?" the voice repeats. "Are you in need of medical assistance?"

"Yes. No." Leon sighs. "I don't know. Why do you care?"

The DSO never supports him on missions, he knows that. It's cruel of them to pretend that they would, dangling medical intervention in front of him like a carrot on a stick.

"Where are you?"

"Half a mile out." Leon swallows. "I won't make it."

There's more buzzing, a voice in his ear, but Leon doesn't pay it any mind. He lets his hand slump to the ground, fingers curling weakly in the dirt. Maybe if he...

He pulls himself forward by his nails, then again, and again. It hurts. Everything hurts, but he can't... he won't just die here alone. The thought puts a lump in his throat and he sobs explosively, dragging himself forward inch by inch. He knows he won't make it; it's stupid to try.

He keeps moving.

Time blurs, blood mixing with dirt where his broken fingernails claw at rocky ground, until a sudden shadow falls over him. Leon whimpers on a particularly rough patch, and two sets of hands slide under his body, lifting him upright. The world swims, and Leon blinks. The face of a young woman hovers over him, her strong body hauling him upright despite the fact that his legs are too weak to support his weight.

"We've got you, Agent Kennedy," she says softly. "We're going to get you out of here, okay?"

Another person pushes into his right side, careful of the wounds over his chest as they take the rest of his weight in strong arms. Leon doesn't understand. "I don't understand."

"Hunnigan sent us. We're getting you out of here, okay? Damn standard procedure---we know how much you've done for all of us."

"Let's get you some help," the other person says, voice husky. Leon doesn't recognize it either, tired brain still confused by their support. He didn't know he'd done anything for anyone at all. "Just a little bit farther, man."

Leon laughs deliriously, unable to do anything else.