Follow My Lead

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Buffy/Devil May Cry/Resident Evil/Background NCIS Crossover (Hold My Heart)
Chapter Summary: Dante gets captured to try to get some answers.
Word Count: 2966
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Leon/Xander

         Trish and Lady are both probably going to kick Dante’s ass, but that’s not much of anything new and he’s been itching for some sparring where they go all out, anyway. So, sure, this didn’t go to plan, they didn’t figure out if his half-brother is being stashed somewhere or how the government’s involved in this whole thing, but maybe Dante getting captured is the best thing for everybody involved. It’s not like they can actually keep him here, and maybe it’s the best way to get some answers.
         The spook they get is, well, not exactly what Dante was expecting. Among other things, he’s pretty sure that’s not a regulation haircut, but the way the guy carries himself, he’s absolutely seen combat before. The suit looks good, he supposes (Trish would be a better eye on that front; Dante doesn’t know the first thing about fashion and doesn’t want to, since he’s pretty sure he manages pretty well on his own), but it’s wrinkled, and while the guy’s applied makeup to try to hide it, there are circles that say he’s barely been sleeping. It hasn’t been that long since they even started this whole investigation, so chances are, it’s not Devil May Cry they’re worrying about and he’s just happened to get caught up on suspicion of being involved with something completely different.
         He puts on what Dante assumes is the typical show, manila folders with files that are probably supposed to convince him they know everything about him and have him dead to rights. To the guy’s credit, he’s got a moment of kind of hesitant embarrassment to the action that says even he thinks that’s a bunch of nonsense. “So, uh. You wanna explain why you were trying to sneak into a top-secret government facility, Mister, uh…” Dante ignores the hint. This is his fact-finding mission, not some GI Tin Can’s.
         He leans back, puts his boots on the table, puts his hands behind his head, and stretches. He’s been told more than a few times that he’s obnoxious. Time to put that in play. “Everybody needs a hobby.”
         The agent raises an eyebrow and breathes carefully, but alongside the annoyance there’s something about his expression that says he’s amused. “All right, let me put this a different way. Why were you following Hunnigan?”
         A name. Probably won’t help him, but it’s a start. “She’s one of the prettier pencil-pushers I’ve seen. She your lady?”
         “No.” The guy doesn’t elaborate, but it’s pretty definitive. The speed is almost defensive—nah, it is defensive, but not possessive. A government guy who actually respects his colleagues, even if they happen to be women. The devil hunter almost finds himself liking the guy. Too bad he’s caught up in this, ‘this’ possibly happening to be kidnapping his half-brother or whatever. “And she’d eat you alive.”
         The devil hunter can’t help but chuckle at that. “Sounds like my type of woman.”
         “She’s her own woman,” the agent responds defiantly, and, hmm.
         He could keep provoking, but it doesn’t look like this is a guy to take the bait, and anyway this is getting a little too sleaze for Dante to keep up. He’s not that kind of guy, and while he’d started out trying to get under this agent’s skin, this approach happens to be bothering him too. “That’s always for the better.”
         “Yeah, you got that right.” The speed with which he agrees—what d’ya know, they are actually friends, neat. And then there’s a beat where he clearly hasn’t planned what to ask next. “I’m not going to patronize you; you already know penalties are pretty strict when it comes to this kind of thing and decided to go ahead with it anyway. You probably also noticed we’re kind of on high alert right now, so your timing sucks. You don’t have ID, you’ve refused to give your name, and we’re combing databases looking for you right now. If you could at least give your name right now, that would help show some spirit of cooperation.”
         The half-devil weighs that carefully. As tempting as it’d be to just tell the guy to go screw himself, if they’re scrambling it maybe means that his half-brother might’ve escaped and they’re trying to recapture him. A reaction will tell him something.
         “Tony Redgrave.” And yeah, the guy knows the name, because the Pretty Boy Agent’s piecing something together in his brain. It’s taking everything he’s got not to just Trigger here and now.
         The weird part, though? The guy...actually relaxes. Maybe even looks relieved. “My name’s Leon Kennedy. You wouldn’t happen to be here, I don’t know, looking for a long-lost relative by any chance, were you?”
         Dante’s across the table before he realizes, hands threatening to turn into claws deep into the man’s jacket. “What have you bastards been doing to him, huh?” he growls.
         “Woah, woah, he’s not a prisoner! I’m surprised you even need me to explain, this close up.” The man’s blushing, but the challenging look in his blue eyes shows absolutely no fear. He doesn’t even flinch. The protests are all at the thought, like it’s abhorrent and he would never get involved in that kind of thing. “I figured if you were anything like Xander, your sense of smell would tell you everything you need to know.”
         Dante frowns, leaning forward, breathing in deeply, Leon still not flinching, and makes out what the agent is talking about. It’s faint, as it would be after two weeks, but he can smell the faintest hint of something that isn’t this exact g-man (and, huh, he doesn’t seem quite fully human either). The exact aroma isn’t fully familiar, but there’s just enough of a hint of something that says Sparda to him in the mix.
         He lets go. The agent smirks and sits, eyes challenging even while it’s clear he’s embarrassed. “This isn’t my shirt,” he confesses, putting his hands behind his head casually, just like Dante had done earlier in the conversation. He won’t be ready if Dante jumps him again, but either way he’s confident.
         Leon Kennedy, the devil hunter realizes, knows exactly what being the Son of Sparda means, and he’s not worried in the slightest. This is a man who’s used to fighting bigger, tougher opponents, and he’s ready to fight Dante on this, too, if he has to. And while this might be a trophy thing, some kind of gloating, it doesn’t look like that. He might not run a traditional detective agency, but Dante has had clients over the years, and Leon’s being genuine, but there’s also a strain of worry and care about the eyes. Funny thing about Spardas; they know how to find trouble.
         He feels like interrogating the guy about his half-brother, but that can wait.
         “So he’s not here? What about the Watchers?” If they really are dating, he can be useful trying to get him out, right?
         “...I’m...guessing you’re talking about the old Council, who were bastards and got themselves killed.” It can’t be that simple, can it? It’s never that simple. He’s got pointed questions for the Slayer, too, but with the way Trish had talked about it, she’d probably just been a pawn in all that.
         He’s definitely not keeping the snarl in, but at this point, he’s pretty sure Leon’s not going to even flinch if he does bring his Devil Trigger to play. “So why’s my brother missing, then? And why the hell aren’t you out there looking for him?”
         Leon flinches, his hand forming a fist. “World’s a big place. He was on assignment, I was off-duty, something about rescuing some civilians from demons. Milk run for him, basically. It all went fine until they went to teleport back, and somewhere along the way, they lost him. Which, way I hear it, doesn’t happen. They’ve got one of the most powerful witches in the world in their employ, his best friend, she’s got nothing.” It’s clear he’s practiced this, only not as a lie to convince. He’s been repeating the story of what went wrong trying to convince himself he’s not to blame, only it’s not working. “Find me a lead, Dante, but I can’t…” For the first time, the man’s voice cracks. It’s a mixture of anger and despair. The first time he’s lost his calm. “We’re on high alert right now, some cultists went after the president, again, and I have my responsibilities. I can’t just... Hunnigan offered to cover up for me going awol if anyone asks, but there’s no point in retracing the same ground when I know I’m not going to find anything. If you can, please. Anything.”
         It’d be easy to keep going, to lash out, but it’d be the wrong choice. It’d be easy to call this guy a wimp, write him off as not doing everything he can, but the thing is, he has, if Dante reads between the lines. He’s gone over every inch of ground, gotten his coworkers roped into it, turned over every clue he’s capable of finding. The guy’s mostly human. The crime is magical or demonic, and that’s not his area.
         He’s not saying he’s done everything he can. In Leon’s mind, that would be lying, because he stinks of guilt, now, because he’d been trying to be the professional and not think about it before. Doesn’t matter he wasn’t there, doesn’t matter there’s nothing he could have done, doesn’t even matter there’s nothing he can do. He feels responsible. It’d be sweet if not for the circumstances.
         Which makes Dante feel a little bad for the way he’d been treating the guy to begin with. Leon’s practically family, and yeah, he’s a jerk, but still. Guy’s probably living the worst days of his life, and here he went and made it just that much worse. The half-devil’s not too big on apologies, and is pretty sure Pretty Boy Agent’s not going to accept any anyway, so what he can do is what he can to make this right.
         Time for business. He leans forward. “You got any suspects?”
         The guy sighs. “Yeah, sure, a lineup the size of the US that isn’t made any better by the fact that the crime is impossible.”
         It really is a good thing that he’s stuck around if a professional investigator is getting stuck here. “Obviously, it isn’t. Just ‘cause we don’t know how someone pulled it off doesn’t cancel out the fact that someone did. Walk me through it.”
         The defeatist attitude...well, it doesn’t disappear, but the cloud of despair lessens, just a little. The Agent even looks a little intrigued, thoughtful, like he’s going back through everything for the first time with something other than recriminations in mind and seeing if there’s something he missed. “Yeah, okay. This is all classified stuff. I’m giving you a temporary clearance, don’t abuse it.” Half of that is probably words just for show, anyway, but Dante knows how to keep a confidence. “So I can’t even name half of them, because they’re either factions the old Council ticked off and don’t know about the change in management, like you didn’t, or the new Council because they’re reorganizing how they deal with everything. Umbrella. They might’ve been formally disbanded as a company but there’s still a lot of power and interest in high places for bioweapons.” ...That...actually explains a few of the devil hunter’s jobs recently, and—huh.
         “You got hit with one, huh?” he clarifies, and from the way the man blushes—yeah.
         “My sense of smell isn’t as good as yours and I can definitely pinpoint it from that close, so I figured you’d get that too,” he explains. And he doesn’t bother explaining how it happened, so yeah, he’s embarrassed. And he quickly moves on, too. “Big issue with them, even if it is impossible, they only recently started learning about demons and magic, so I don’t know how they could pull it off unless they’ve pulled in some outside help. Which is definitely possible. Wolfram & Hart, Demon Lawyers. Given that they operate interdimensionally on a regular basis, I’m guessing they’re our best bet. We’re currently dealing with an unnamed group of demon terrorists that, I guess, got tired of living in their Hell Dimension and want to do a little colonization, forcefully if they have to, but as far as we can tell, they don’t have any teleportation at all or we’d be in a lot more risk here. There’s the remnants of the cult of the First. They’re pretty disorganized, but a lone operator might’ve been able to pull it off with enough juice, if Willow was right, and they’ve definitely got a pretty personal motive, seeing as Xander was one of the ones that helped banish the First.”
         It’s clear he’s not about to end it there, but hang on, cult. If it’s not the government or the Watcher’s Council, then…he might as well interrupt the guy, just to be clear. Sure, he’s not done, but a lead’s a lead. “You hear of the Scarlet Order before?”
         Jackpot. He does, going by that look. “Threatened the President, blew up my apartment, got one of their leaders shot through the head. We thought we’d mopped up most of them.”
         So Lady was right, in a way; tracking those cultists down probably would have led to his half-brother in the end, if not the way she had thought. He’s not telling her, though. She wants to gloat, she has to work that out on her own. “So did we, ‘till we found a second. And a third. And so on. Seems they operate in cells, and they’re pretty proud of how much of a pain that makes them. You still got one?” He can haul in one if necessary.
         “We still have the leader on ice. You think it’d be useful?” He’s...not gonna ask if that’s standard governmental procedure, because yeah, it absolutely could be. Not like he’d know.
         “A halfway decent witch could absolutely track more down, given a body. We’d be looking for concentrations, any more pockets they could have him in.” He hesitates. He absolutely doesn’t want to do this, but it’s gonna be on his conscience if he doesn’t.
         “Just so you know, there’s a chance we’re not gonna find him alive. They have orders to kill him, last I heard.”
         The shaky breath and sudden tears are the only sign Leon’s not holding it together. “Dante, I have had seventeen days of…” He takes a breath, refocuses. “I’ve been repeating to myself that he’s alive. Every single time, I feel that stab of guilt because I’m lying, because I can’t lose one more person. Except you’re telling me I might not be lying.”
         Dante shifts. “Should’ve gotten myself captured sooner,” he offers, because when it comes to things like this, he’s out of his depth.
         The fond look on the Agent’s face says this is something he’s got in common with his half brother, and he had better get to meet the guy. “Yeah, maybe, except if you didn’t get me it probably would’ve wasted time anyway. I can get this covered, though you might still have to pay a small fine or something. Cell phone number?”
         “Don’t have one.” Not like he’s really needed one. The Agent looks shocked, so he adds, “I’ve got a landline for Devil May Cry, if that’ll help. I’m usually at my office.” Then he realizes that he’s not going to be, not if he’s out searching for clues, and then the vague recollection of a conversation surfaces. “Hang on, I think Lady bought herself a cell phone. That’ll work better.” Agent Pretty Boy carefully notes down the number, mouthing it to himself as he writes and turning it around when he’s done so Dante can confirm it. Lady might decide to have some fun with target practice for his presumption, but she might give him a pass given the circumstances, and if not, well, he’ll take a few hits, for this.
         He stands and holds a hand out for a handshake, because he really wants to get a move on, now. “Anything else, Leon?”
         Leon starts to stand, but apparently something occurs to him, because he’s suddenly hunting through his wallet. “Yeah, actually.” He carefully pulls out a picture, and Dante suddenly has a face to the name.
         It’s of the two of them, Xander and Leon, at what looks like a bowling alley. Leon’s arm is around Xander’s waist, while Xander looks like he’s going in for a kiss on the cheek and is mid-laugh. He’s definitely got a bit of the family style, the devil hunter thinks smugly, “dressed down” in leather pants and a gothic vest in more of a maroon, and a soft white eyepatch peeking out behind the white hair a bit longer than Nero’s, though carefully out of frame is how badly the whole thing probably matches the average bowling shoes. His face is a little softer than his or Vergil’s, maybe a bit closer to Nero’s. Leon’s in more denim and t-shirts. For all that nothing’s happening, really, it’s an intimate look. Sweet couple, and, well, if nothing else, it’s clear Xander got to be happy, at least for a little while. Better off, at least, than all the terrible theories he and Lady had been hitting each other with.
         He goes to give the photo back, but Leon’s already putting his wallet away. “Keep it. Lady hasn’t seen what he looks like, right? I’ll take a new one after we find him.” Kennedy needs this, a promise of hope, so Dante stashes it away with as much care as the guy had taken it out.