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Chapter 10 - The Professional Rips Off the Band-Aid

While the BSAA try to patch up their radio, the captain sends Leon out to check on the generator. The prospect of having it break down, and losing what little power they're still clinging to, is one he's not willing to chance. He instructs Leon to have one of the soldiers downstairs accompany him. There's safety in numbers, after all, and besides, Leon might need the extra hand (this comment earns him a few sideways looks, and Leon swears one of the men even snickers).

So Leon finds his old pal Yeung, and together they make their way to the maintenance shed where the generator is housed. The Delta Team member is more than happy to be granted a reprieve from watching the civilians. "Quite understandably, they're not in the best of moods," he reports casually to Leon, as they ford their way through the wet and windy grounds behind the main building. "They know they're getting out tomorrow, and it's turned them all stir-crazy having to wait out the night here. They'd probably be a lot nicer to each other if they thought they'd be here indefinitely."

"Maybe," Leon muses, "or maybe they'd start a vote on which one of them to eat first."

Fortunately, the machinery is working without a hitch, so they top up the fuel and head back before they get soaked through. Barring another massive stroke of bad luck, the supply should last until daybreak, at which point there'll be much better visibility for trying to fix the regular grid power.

As they're standing in the foyer shaking the rain off their coats, Leon's phone goes off. "Never a moment to catch a breath," he sighs as he digs it out of his pocket. It's Sherry. He exchanges a quick farewell with Yeung before finding himself a quiet corner of the hall to answer her. Have they found out more on that mysterious new virus, or even a way to defeat it? Whatever it is, he just hopes it's not more bad news to add to their shitstorm.

But upon a closer look at the incoming call, he notices something off. Somehow, he doesn't think she's checking in about B.O.W.s.

"Sherry?" he inquires as he picks up. "You're using our personal lines. Is something wrong?"

"Leon…" Sherry sounds hesitant—nervous, even. "There's something I need to tell you. Can you talk right now?"

Leon doesn't like the sound of that. In his experience, people always resort to that tone of voice right before they drop a bombshell on him. Like that time Chris told him Ada was dead. Sure, Chris had been tailing the wrong woman all along, and sure, it wasn't even that long afterward that Ada—the real one—had shown up alive and well, but no amount of rationalizing or consoling or drinking will ever erase the shock and sorrow he'd felt in that gut-wrenching moment, or the sheer despair of that scenario that still keeps him up at night sometimes. And Leon's not ready to have his whole world fall to pieces again, especially not while he's here with a job left to do.

Still, the band-aid has to be ripped off at some point, and he doubts he'll be any more prepared later when he's off duty.

"I guess now is as good a time as any," he replies, settling in one of the abandoned chairs along the corridor. "What's going on?" At the far end of the hall, two soldiers are gearing up to head outside, their backs to him as they strap on equipment over their thick clothes.

"I did some additional tests on those blood samples I brought back. Specifically, yours and Tilda's."

Leon really doesn't like the sound of that.

"I was thinking about what you said, about how you didn't think she's yours. So, while I was in the lab, I ran a DNA test—"

No.

"Leon—wait, listen to me, let me finish," Sherry pleads as he sucks in his breath sharply enough that the soldiers turn their heads briefly at the sound. "I should've asked beforehand, and I'm sorry I didn't, but I knew you would've refused, and I just… I couldn't let you keep stewing in your uncertainty any longer. I think you deserve to know for sure—"

"Goddamnit, Sherry," Leon hisses, and immediately feels a stab of remorse as her sentence dies in a timid squeak. He can almost picture her recoiling from the phone, stung by his fierceness. "Sorry—I didn't mean to sound so harsh—Sherry, I appreciate your effort, I do, but please tell me you didn't get her info uploaded to the government's records…" What if someone were to work out Tilda's connection to Ada? What if it somehow came out that Ada was still alive—what would happen to her then? Children make for excellent bargaining chips, a fact he came to understand hard way after he lost guardianship of Sherry. Would Ada be forced to put her own head on the chopping block for the sake of her daughter?

"I had thought of that," Sherry says, a reproachful edge in her voice. "I ran the test offline and deleted everything right after. See, one of the perks of having worked there for ages is you know where the old equipment is stored. Obsolete instruments that were slated to be disposed, but end up sitting on a shelf for months and months. It's not hard to sneak in and fire one up for a little while. And since all that stuff's already disconnected from the network, nothing I put through it gets saved in the system."

"Are you sure? Did you double-check the database afterwards?"

"Yes, Leon. There was nothing there. Not even in the equipment logs. As far as the records are concerned, I never even so much as looked at that old thing."

"What about the cameras—"

"Never caught a thing. I was very careful," she assures him. "Anyway, it's not as though I can unrun the test now, so you might as well listen up. It was a match. You're her father."

Though he'd braced himself for it, the revelation still claps him like a brick to the face. He sinks forward with a groan; it's a good thing he's sitting down, because his legs seem to have dissolved into useless static beneath him. The old pain in his heart flares back to life. He's been avoiding thinking about Tilda's paternity for as long as he can. Why dwell on it when they'll inevitably have to say goodbye, after all? But that had been just a sorry excuse, he's starting to realize, a band-aid over all the fears and anxieties he doesn't want to face. And band-aids have to come off eventually.

"I know," he mumbles. He isn't sure if his feeble admission is to Sherry, or to himself.

Sherry is taken aback. "Since when? How?"

"I saw Ada. We…" He grimaces. Talked isn't quite the term he'd use to describe what happened between them. "Anyway… I found out. I just didn't want to think about it all this time. I guess I've been afraid of accepting it."

"Why? I thought you'd be happy about this."

He swallows thickly. "Because whenever something good happens to me, the universe always finds some way to to take it away."

He'd had something great in Claire and Sherry, but fate had separated them not long after Raccoon City. He'd fallen head over heels for Ada, only to lose her that harrowing night deep in the bowels of Umbrella's lab. Through some miracle, she'd survived, and their paths have crossed time and time again since then, but the conflicting nature of their occupations has kept them from attaining the closeness they've yearned for, save for the fleeting moments they steal that are too short and too far in between.

He'd fathered a child against all odds, the most wondrous creature in the world since her mother, but could she truly be his if he can't open his home to her, raise her, watch over her as a father should?

"I can't have a child," he says.

Forget Ada, what if his employers discovered Tilda's relationship to him? Him, the department's longest-running hopeless bachelor, acknowledging paternity of an eight-year-old child out of nowhere? The rumor mill would go into overdrive. There'd be inquiries about her origins. Her mother. Even if he managed to dodge their questions, even if he somehow concealed the fact that she was the product of a love that would earn him front row seats to his very own court-martial hearing, he'd still have to live in constant terror that they would someday seize custody of her as motivation for him to behave.

Just like they did with Sherry.

And those are just his hang-ups with his supposed allies. What if the other side got their hands on her? As a government agent, Leon's surely walking around with a target on his back, however imperceptible; such is par for the course for anyone with even a modicum of sway in this country's trajectory, after all, and Leon's accomplished plenty in his career to draw the eye of some pretty significant people. If one of his enemies decided to make him suffer, it'd be so easy to seize a defenseless little girl and twist her arm until either she or her daddy broke. He can't have that happen to Tilda. He can't let anyone sniff out their relationship and exploit it.

"But you do have a child," Sherry counters. "And I know you've taken a shining to her. Claire told me you asked her to take care of her in your absence. Leon… this could be your chance to connect with Tilda. Not just while you're working the case, but more in the long term. She's your daughter. You can't just… give her up!"

"I'd only put her in danger by getting her involved with me," Leon states.

"We have colleagues with children. That's never been a problem for them."

"What do you want me to do? She's not some stray animal you pick up off the street and bring home. She has a life here. She has…" he grits his teeth at the thought of that unworthy stepfather of hers, "a family. I can't just uproot her from all that just because she's mine. Besides… I'm not fit to care for her."

"Oh, that is bullshit," Sherry snaps, and in a complete turn of events Leon is now the one flinching away from her. "Remember when you and Claire and I were traveling together after Raccoon City? You were a better dad to me in those few days than my own father had been by then. What's happened to that Leon, the one who cared for me like I was his own daughter? Now you have a child of your own, and you're acting like your very presence is poison to her?"

"But I couldn't take care of you for long, could I?" Leon points out softly. "Not since they took you away."

Sherry goes quiet for a while. "That's not going to happen to Tilda," she says eventually. "Leon… listen… the government knew I'd been infected by the G-virus. They were after me from the start. Tilda's just an ordinary girl, there's no way they'd be interested in her."

"Her mother—" Leon begins.

"—is dead, as far as anyone knows. The most they could do is question who you slept with some eight or nine years ago, and it's not that hard to make up something believable, is it? And if some top brass still decide to prosecute you for it—if they really believe all the good work you've put into this organization is worth less than the hassle and scandal of putting you on trial—if that day ever comes, I'll help you. Hunnigan will help you. That's what friends are for. You're not alone in this, Leon. As for Tilda's family, I don't have an answer to that, but what I do know is you need to stop running away thinking you're not deserving of a bond with your own flesh and blood." She sighs. "Look, even if nothing comes of it in the end, you have to let her know you're her father. If you had any consideration for her at all, you would do at least that much."

Leon doesn't question her insistence on the matter. He knows who's on her mind as she utters those words. And he knows enough about her friend Jake Muller to understand that no matter the circumstances, a child can't help its inherent curiosity toward an unknown parent. The kid had grown up believing his father a deadbeat. Then he'd learned of Albert Wesker's maniacal plans for world domination. And despite that, he'd still almost shot Chris for Wesker's death. However infinitesimal a role Wesker had played in his son's life, the imprint even his absence had left in Jake's mind is undeniable.

"Someday she'll look for her biological parents," Sherry continues when he doesn't speak. "How do you think she'll react if she finds out it was you all along? What will you say when she asks you why you never told her? Do you think she'd even give you a chance to justify yourself at that point?"

He'd seen the way Tilda looked at him as they walked together. Like she'd follow him to the ends of the earth. She'd never forgive him if he kept the truth from her.

Besides, he did give her his number. Would he have done that if, deep down, he didn't desperately want to be in her life?

"Okay," he relents. "I'll tell her. It might not amount to anything, but… I'll tell her."

"Good. It's a start," says Sherry.

Perhaps they'll still go their separate ways once his work here is done. Perhaps she'll go to a family with that house in the suburbs he'd once dreamed of raising a family in. Perhaps they'll lose touch with each other as they settle back into their daily routines.

But perhaps she'll call him to talk about her dead cat after all. Perhaps he'll make the drive up to her place someday to meet her for ice cream at the beach. Perhaps they'll be part of each other's routines.

"I have to go," says Leon. "The BSAA are sending a convoy to the hospital soon. I—I should be there." She'll be expecting to see him when the troops start showing up, no doubt, and he'd hate to disappoint her now. It'd set a terrible precedent for what he's about to share with her.

Plus, he's missed her terribly ever since he got here.

No more burying his head in the sand. It's time to take responsibility. He'll tag along with the BSAA and meet Tilda at the hospital. And when the moment is right, he'll sit her down and own up to the truth.

As her father, it's the least he can do.

This wasn't meant to be a standalone chapter, but somehow it budded like a wee little yeast and floated away on its own. They grow up so fast :')