Yay! My old fanfic has finally made it to It's still a work in progress, and I'll try to continue and update it as time allows. This is Leon + Ashley, so if you hate the pairing, feel free to move on to the next fic now. In reviews, I ask that there be no flames, but only constructive criticism.

For reference, I have only played RE4 and bits of Code Veronica X, and also know next-to-nothing about the government and the White House, so if you see a typo or an error in plot, etc. please let me know so I can fix it. I'm trying really hard to make my plot make sense, so please let me know if it doesn't. Thanks!

Note: please pay attention to the times and dates, as some chapters will be flashbacks, especially in the beginning of the story. I will try to remember to put 'FB' in the chapter title of those which are flashbacks, just to make it easier on you. :)

Italics are used to express sounds, a character's inner thoughts, or to put emphasis on a word.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own any rights to Resident Evil 4 (obviously), and all characters and events (which I may reference) of Resident Evil 4 or any other Resident Evil are copyright Capcom®.

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Chapter 1

The intense heat was what brought him from that precarious edge between consciousness and unconsciousness. He could smell the steam and stench of burning flesh. Its toxicity rolled into his mouth and nose, choking him. His eyelids felt like they were welded shut, heavy and unyielding in his attempts to open them. He felt a slight pressure on his forehead. He forced his eyes open at last, only to have them met with utter darkness. He idly wondered why he couldn't see the glow of the fire that was consuming him; had he gone blind? There was a slight rustling sound, and the flames grew hotter. He weakly fumbled for his sidearm, but it was gone. They must have taken it. Panic gripped him, one thought suddenly overcoming his mind, driving out everything else. Where is Ashley?

Three Days Earlier…

7:00am Dec. 12, 2004

Leon S. Kennedy was surrounded. Only two shotgun shells left; after that, his knife would be his only line of defense. There was a familiar cracking sound behind him. No no no… He spun around and instinctively ducked as a grotesque tentacle-like extremity slashed over his head. It retracted, seeming to set off a chain reaction as every other villager's head suddenly exploding to reveal similar flailing limbs. The sound that filled the autumn air reminded Leon of a rather macabre bag of microwave popcorn. He gritted his teeth, lifting his shotgun, preparing to shoot the first one who made a move.

Suddenly, the deafening buzz of chain saws was right behind him, and he turned for a second time as a man with a burlap sack over his head swung a filthy yellow chain saw directly at Leon's head. The American staggered back in surprise, raising his shotgun, but it was too late. The spinning blades bit into his collar, and a painful yell escaped his throat, accompanied by a spit of blood. Leon's arm flailed, clutching at his attacker's hands, arms, neck, anything. The roar of the chain saw blade rose in pitch, becoming almost tinny in his ears, and whatever part of the man he had hold of didn't budge. Leon cried out again through gritted teeth and started shooting wildly in front of him, but the firearm was strangely silent against the insistent buzz of the chain saw. Leon flailed again, suddenly feeling the strange sensation of falling as something blunt connected with the side of his head.

"AGH! Shit!" Leon shouted as he fell on the floor between his night stand and his bed. The night stand tipped, throwing a cheap bedside lamp onto the floor, its light bulb shattering. His arm twisted painfully, and he realized that he was clutching the headboard with one white-knuckled fist.

He carefully released the headboard and lay on the floor for a moment, letting his heart catch up with his brain. It was just another nightmare, he told himself. Nothing to worry about…

He reached over and turned off his overturned alarm clock, which was still emitting its irritating tinny buzz, and pulled himself into a sitting position. He let out a long shaky breath and lifted a hand to his temple. Luckily he didn't seem to be bleeding.

The aggravated honking of a car outside planted his feet back in reality, where he preferred them to stay. He pulled his tired body to a standing position and rubbed his eyes with one hand as he passed the other through his unwashed, messy hair. He squinted at the calendar that was taped to the wall opposite his bed and muttered "December… twelfth?"

There was less than a week left of his official leave period, after which it would be time to return to his duties. Working through Christmas. What fun. Well, Leon confessed; it wasn't as if he had anyone to spend the holidays with.

Immediately after returning from Spain, Leon and Ashley Graham, the president's daughter, had been separated. Ashley had been safely returned to her family while Leon was made to explain what had happened in Spain more times than he could count. He was then given an official leave of absence, to "recuperate from his traumatic experience," as his superiors had said. What garbage. Sure, he had a nightmare or two, but that wouldn't hinder him from doing his job. It was just the bureaucrats' means of getting him out of the way while they sorted things out. How they planned to explain the events in Spain to the public, Leon still didn't know. However, it wouldn't be the government's first time covering up a mess as big as this one.

All these thoughts ambled through his mind as he started his morning routine. Turn on coffee maker. Shower. Drink coffee. Shave. Don: underwear, socks, pants, shirt, shoes, jacket. Brush hair. Find keys. A half an hour later, he stood at his apartment door, finally ready to start his day, the nightmare all but forgotten.

Then, as Agent Kennedy locked his door and prepared to make his way to the parking garage, his phone rang. He froze in the hallway and muttered a mild obscenity. Ring ring. If I go back now, I'll probably just end up late. Ring ring. It's probably the usual wrong number anyways. Ring ring. If they really wanted me they'd call my cell. Ring ring. Ah, screw 'em. He continued down the hall and to the stairs, ignoring the faint beep as the answering machine activated.

In his apartment, a young female voice spoke to an empty room.

"Hello, Leon? Are you there? Leon?"

To Be Continued...

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