Summary: [RE4] Luis contemplates his own mortality and what it means to be free of everything, to have that peace and quiet life couldn't give him.
Pairing(s): I suppose there's a tiny bit of Leon/Luis in this. I couldn't help it.
AN: Soooo… this used to be an old story of mine. I took it down with a lot of others to rewrite it someday. I never actually expected to rewrite any of them, but with time came a new inspiration to fix this. One night I did and this is what came of it. I don't know how I feel about it right now but somebody, I won't say who, is demanding I post it. I think it's time I post something anyway. I've been really lousy about that.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Literally, nothing. Broke people can't afford fandoms.
One would imagine there would be a lot of pain after being impaled through the abdomen, but there wasn't. At least not that Luis could recall after he was slammed back onto the ground. The impact left him stunned and listening to a blaring white sound in both ears. Every bone in his body was jarred. It could have been a lifetime before he was able to regain some sense and gasp, a bloody wet sound that sent the world crashing back. But it was only a few minutes. When he was able to think again, only one thought occurred over and over like a mantra: Saddler had gotten him good. Saddler. Saddler.
Still, despite being taken up in midair by his chest, Luis was able to hold on to one of the vials he had brought for Leon. The edges dug into his palm as he gripped it tighter and tighter, hoping it wouldn't shatter as he used it for support. The pain was steadily seeping in around his wound, but it wasn't excruciating. Luis knew his body was in shock. The worst of the pain would surface later, if he even lasted that long. Morbid curiosity demanded he lean up to see the damage that had been done. It definitely wasn't good; he could feel that much already, but he still managed to lift himself up onto one of his elbows to see down to where Saddler's tail had impaled him. He winced and gasped as each of his movements brought about a wave of nausea and stabs of more pain. Distantly he heard Saddler speaking, that grating deep voice he was once disillusioned by.
The wound was bad, too bad to properly assess. All he could think about it was, a mess. Truly a mess. Dire. Severe. A great, dark exit for his life. The fact that Saddler had just missed his heart was only a small blessing. His chances of survival were razor thin, if not all but impossible. However, some saving grace had given him a little time to fulfill what he had come to do. He wasn't sure he deserved it, but he was thankful for it anyhow. A calm was starting to fall over him that helped him to understand that he was okay with his own fatality. Maybe he had even expected it. All that mattered was getting this remaining vial to him.
Leon was at his side then, kneeling in his blood but not appearing to care. His hands were holding onto the wound as if he was trying to staunch the blood flow while he searched his utility belt for something he could use. Luis knew Leon was going to try to save him. He also knew he would probably do just that. Luis had witnessed his heroics firsthand, had seen him defy all impossible odds to get to where he was now. He was remarkable, incredible, everything Luis would have hoped to be, if given a second chance. He would have considered his own attempts useless were he giving this vial to anyone but Leon.
"No!" Luis growled a little too harshly, shrugging Leon's hands away. He didn't want his help. He didn't need his help. Not now. Not anymore.
Leon looked up at him with eyes like glass, so easy to see past. Luis wondered how he could be a cop and still be so emotional on the field. Everything passed behind his eyes: his confusion, his fear, his anger and determination, his camaraderie, his compassion. Luis was a little flattered by it. It had been a long time since someone had cared about him in this fashion. And it was true Luis wasn't in the business of liking men "professionally", but he could still appreciate a handsome face when he saw it, especially when he saw it staring into him like that. He supposed he should be thankful for Leon, in more ways than one, even if he would not let him save him.
No, Luis wanted to die.
For the first time, he felt like he was right where he was supposed to be. This had been his ultimate purpose and everything had come together as perfectly as it could given the dire situation. Personally, he would have preferred less blood, and maybe a cigarette. Perhaps he would miss that the most. Simple pleasures. So much was left understated.
Luis was just tired of the noise, the danger, the reality of what he helped to create. This wasn't what he had wanted. This was a nightmare, a prison. There were no options, no future, no silver linings. This was his only way out. He was going to take it with dignity, believing it would all change for the better once he was gone. He'd done everything he could up to this point, left behind everything he thought that would carry someone more capable the rest of the way. Nothing more could be asked of him. Now, he just wanted peace and quiet, the kind of quiet he would never have alive. Even if he were to escape and survive, he'd never be able to live with himself. Not after this.
Luis told Leon everything he could while he felt himself growing weaker. He was a little apprehensive about the slow creeping of a deep sleep setting in on him. Survival instincts told him to fight it, but he continued to assure himself that it was over. There was no need to fight anymore, and everything would end up okay. He believed that right then, and he'd go into eternity believing it.
It did feel a little like falling asleep when he finally laid back against the ground. A great relief fell into his tired muscles and he felt a little peaceful, unlike sleeps he had suffered through in the past – all those restless nights of both tormented nightmares and exhausting experiments. This was different. Leon still encouraged him to hold on but Luis wouldn't listen.
Thank you, my friend, he thought to himself, but I've done all I can. It's up to you. All of his strength was gone now but the warmth he felt while thinking those words was enough. He didn't need to say it.
With a sigh he sank deeper into the darkness of his mind where it was quiet, no pain, no blood. His last memory was of Leon leaning over him, taking the vial and continuing to hold his hand for longer than he should have.
And then Luis was gone.
AN: But he was resurrected later to assist with the battle against Saddler and then rode away with Leon back to America on a jet ski. What? No? Okay. Fine. He just dies then.