-No Hope Left-

He had everything to lose.

And he'd risk it all if she just...stopped.

His tone was nearly painfully desperate, "Looking at you is like adrenaline in the heart. It's…guts and blood and glory and fucking with the lights on. It's…watching your face while I slide inside of you and the music in my head that won't go away every time I look at you. It's kneeling in your blood and pumping on your chest a thousand times…a million times…because I can't let you go. Because I can't stop. And I can't live without you."

Her heart was knocking so hard it hurt.

He took a step toward her. The rain slid down that perfect face while he said, "I need you, Jill. In all caps. The moment you sat down at that table, I knew you were it. You were what was missing. You and that boy behind you. That's what comes after the fight. That's what's worth fighting for. It's the rush that never ends. I'm in love with you. Totally. Completely. If Chris…if he's still in there…if he's anywhere in there…tell me now, and I'll get out of the way. But tell me now, Jill, because I meant what I said. Four days? I didn't need four fucking days. I loved you after four fucking minutes."

Jesus Christ.

She loved him.

It fairly killed her where she stood.

"Forget Ada Wong. Fuck Ada Wong. She's nothing. A shadow. You eclipsed her the moment you stepped into that sleepy hamlet and said my name. I'm all in, baby. All in. Say yes. And let me spend the rest of my life showing you."

Her heart. It hurt. It ached.

It bled.

And it beat for him.

He'd made sure of that.

"In our business, that could be a day. It could be a minute. It could be forever. It's a gamble, Jill, a big one. And it might not pay off. I might die on you. I might do that. But I will never give up on you. I will never choose anything in the world over you. Pick me. Choose me. Love me back. And I won't ever let you down."

Did he think she needed a big speech? Did he think she needed anything else in the world but him? Who was he convincing here? Her?

Himself?

Or their past?

Maybe all of it.

But none of it, any of it, mattered. She couldn't think of anything else in the world she wanted more than him, that boy between them, and that life he'd promised her.

She opened her mouth to answer, and the roof was suddenly full of bodies. People began to pour in from all angles: medics, agents, and well-meaning workers.

They were poked and prodded and checked on. They were debriefed and treated and fed.

There was no time for anything else.

And the circus didn't stop until she checked into the hotel the DSO set up for them. She bathed Ben with a little bag on his casted wrist to protect it from water and put him to bed. She held him in the semidarkness and stared at the shadows on the ceiling.

A small knock on her door had Jill rolling to her feet and opening it quietly.

Helena stood on the other side, shifting in sleeping pants and a pink tank top. "It's stupid not to want to sleep alone, right? That would be stupid. We're totally safe now. Safe. And yet…" Helena lifted her palms and shrugged.

Jill opened the door and let her in without another word.

They talked. They laughed. They cried.

They healed.

And Helena Harper became her friend. It seemed she had more than one. It seemed she could never have enough.

Helena fell asleep on Ben's other side, spooned against his back with him cuddled against her front like a teddy bear. Ben the Bear was snuggled against his front, looking ragged and sad from being stuffed in his little backpack the whole time they'd been running for their lives but oddly happy.

Jill slid from the bed and padded into the softly lit hallway.

She walked right out of the hotel into the rainy night.

And she came back with the only thing that mattered.

She wore plaid sleeping shorts and a white undershirt. Her breasts swayed beneath the ribbed material as she moved down the ugly carpet. She stopped by Room 216 and lifted a hand to knock.

And then she changed her mind.

She didn't knock at all.

Leon was at the small desk by the bed of his room. He rubbed his tired eyes behind the little gold glasses he wore. He was working on the report for the incident. It was a mess. The whole D.S.O. was a mess. He had weeks and weeks and weeks of ironing out the wrinkles ahead of him.

The Vice President had been sworn in immediately, but things were still fucked up like a football bat.

They needed a new Vice President. They needed a new head for the D.S.O. He knew where that hammer fell. He knew it meant he was stuck. He was in. He was it. After all, it was his baby, and he needed to fix it.

There was no retirement for Leon Kennedy. Not today.

He slid the little glasses down his nose and pinched the bridge, staving off the headache brewing.

He almost pissed his pants when a voice said, "The moment I saw you, sitting in the sunlight, smoking, and people watching…I thought…I'd never seen anything so perfect before in my entire life."

He dropped his hand and swiveled the chair around to face her.

And she was proven wrong.

Because there was something more perfect after all, it was Leon Kennedy in little gold reading glasses and sleeping pants without a shirt. It was Leon Kennedy, still damp from a shower.

She pushed on, feeling her heart race. She had her hands behind her back. It pulled that shirt tight across her breasts. It made him hard just sitting there looking at her. "I was wrong. So wrong. Because it wasn't that face. Not really. Although it takes my breath away…." She shifted toward him, and he rose, closing the distance like a predator, "It was the laughter. The laughter, Leon. Four days? I didn't need it either. I didn't need four minutes. The first time you opened your mouth, I knew you were the only thing I'd ever wanted. Ever. And I'd been waiting my entire life to find you."

He was nearly to her now.

But she stopped him because she pulled her arms from behind her back.

And she had a little box in them.

A little box...with a pie. An apple pie.

She whispered, "I didn't bake it. Clearly. I...went out to a grocery store at 2 a.m. and bought you a pie. Because you should have pie, Leon, you should."

He was so still, watching her, "I should have pie?"

"Yes. Lots of pie. And a woman that makes it with you. Not for you, you pig...but with you."

And now, he smirked a little. "Should I?"

"Yes. Pie. And...soccer practice. And love."

He shook his head and started to pull off his glasses, but she caught his wrists to stop him. "Leave them. Please."

And he loved her. He loved her. And her pie.

She whispered, "But…you…you should have children, Leon. Lots of children. I can't…I can't give them to you. I probably can't. Be sure...before you agree. Be sure because you should have lots of children. I know you don't think they like you...but they do. They love you. How could they not love you? What if...what if you never have a child that looks like you? Your face...I'm stupid. I'm being stupid. I can't give you babies...just pie...just...be sure, Leon. Really think about it. Ok? Just..."

And now, he set the glasses on the small nightstand by the bed. He speared his fingers through his hair. It pulled the muscles in his arms tight from chest to fingers. Her mouth watered.

"Jill?"

"Hmm?"

"Put down the pie."

"What?"

"Put the pie down. Now."

Oh. She put the pie on the desk. She trembled.

"I should go, Leon, and let you think. Just...think about it, ok?"

"I don't need to think about it."

He shook his head. He gripped the hem of her undershirt and tugged it over her head. His arm looped around her back, and he hitched her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist as their naked torsos merged, and stole her breath.

His hands shifted, slid up her back, and angled her face down to him. He didn't even flinch at holding her around him. He rubbed her nipples against him and brought both of their breathing heavy with it. "Jill…shut up. Give me your pie. And say yes."

She shivered and twisted her fingers in his hair, "….yes."

He turned and spilled her back on the bed. She gasped and kicked her legs as he jerked her shorts down her body.

She hooked her ankles behind his ass and spilled him forward atop her.

They rolled, and she pinned him, hands above his head, mouth on his. She robbed his brains out of his ass and left him spinning.

And she took his body before he could stop dying for her.

She rode, fast and wet and hard. He loved her, truly and madly and deeply. He was a pop song. And a romance novel. And an episode of Grey's Anatomy. He was nuts for her.

She was kissing him while the train rushed down the tunnel. She was the thing that anchored him. The thing that healed him. The thing that offered him hope. She was school plays and baseball games and laughter.

She was laughter.

And he didn't know how in the hell he'd ever existed without her.

He rose and loved her while she gasped and died above him.

He'd known her for four days.

And on the fifth day, he married her.

Washington D.C. 2014

He was late.

LATE.

She was going to kill him. She was going to flay the flesh from his bones and kill him.

He rushed, breathing fast and hard. The right hand of the President was scared. He was nervous.

The door opened beneath his hand as she pushed and hurried into the room.

The action was just starting.

But it wasn't Hunters. It wasn't zombies.

It was just kids.

The lights went down, and the show began.

"FOUR SCORNS AND SEVENTY YEARS AGOS…" It was Ben with a big top hat on and a beard that made him look adorable. Ben, as Abe Lincoln, "Our Dad's brought forth on this consonants, a new nation, conceebed in Liberty, and dedicated to the prop…the…proper…the proposing symptoms that all men are created equals…."

His heart swelled three sizes too big.

Leon leaned on the door in the shadows and felt alive.

Ben eyed him in the dark auditorium and grinned, huge and happy. He waved, "HEY, DAD! HI!" And he totally broke character.

Which was completely fine in a Kindergarten play.

The theater laughed around him, charmed. And Ben said, "My Dad is the President!"

And had everyone laughing again.

Eyes turned toward him. Leon lifted a foot and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning. He managed to look charmingly sheepish as he drawled, "...not exactly." And had all those eyes adoring him with humor.

From where she sat, Jill figured most of the eyes on him were female. Who could blame them? He was a walking advertisement for sex.

Coughing, the teacher encouraged Ben to continue. "Oh, sorry. Um…I am Abraham Linkens…the sixtieth president of the United States of 'Merica."

Loving him, Leon crept down the dark aisle looking for Jill. He finally spotted her blonde hair mid-way down the fifth row. Excusing himself, he eased through excited parents and took his spot beside her.

The women he passed by could have given him more room. Easily.

And not a single one bothered.

It made Jill smirk a little.

She rolled her eyes to him, brows lifted.

The judgment on her face was legendary.

He said, "I know. I know. In my defense, traffic on DuPont Circle sucks shit."

A parent in the next row cleared their throat and gave him the stink eye. Naturally, you couldn't say shit at a kindergarten play. Leon said sheepishly, "Apologies, darlin." And he winked at the offended mother.

The soccer Mom blushed and coughed to cover it. Her pretty round face was pink. Her husband beside her was less amused.

Jill said, amused, "Leave her be before she creams all over her seat."

Leon chuckled and rolled his head back to look at Jill. She was glowing. The red dress she wore had blue flowers stenciled on it. It tied prettily beneath her beautiful, tasty, wonderful bosom in a neat little bow. He wanted to pull the bow and free the breasts.

But you couldn't do that at a kindergarten play, either.

Leon whispered, "You ok? I'm sorry I'm late. The mass amount of paperwork involved is trying to murder me. Remind me the next time I decide to overhaul my department and try to take some time off; I need to start like fifty years before I actually need that time off."

Jill shifted her eyes to his face. And she couldn't stop it. She could never stop it. She just dealt with it. Like being in love with a man that drew female attention like flies to shit…you made your peace with the urge to touch him.

She cupped the side of his face and pulled him down to kiss him.

She couldn't stop that part. She could, however, mostly resist the urge to stick her tongue in his mouth. Mostly.

She covered up the need for that by sliding her hand over his thigh and brushing her fingers down the smooth inside line of his suit pants. Good linen, it let her brush the backs of her fingers over his groin and felt like silk.

Adorable thing that he was, he actually jumped a little in his seat. And he was smirking as he leaned back. "You can't grope me at our son's play, wife. That is not in the best interest of the forefathers."

Jill grinned a little, crazy about him. "Is it in the best interest of Ben's father?"

He seemed to consider the answer. "Survey says yes."

Jill shifted her hand, and he twined their fingers together. He lifted their hands and kissed hers. Public affection never bothered him. He was all for it. It was another thing she loved about him. Chris had always been a man who flinched away when she touched him around others.

She whispered, "You can't come packing to a kid's play, Leon Kennedy."

He blinked. And he realized she was right. He still had his gun strapped to his thigh.

Well...shit and double shit. Apparently, transitioning from badass warrior to badass father was happening slowly.

He winced a little. "...sorry. Sheesh. I might be hopeless here."

She tilted her head at him. She was aware of the eyes on them. Well, on him. The single moms in Ben's class were constantly sniffing around like vultures waiting to pick the bones of their marriage if it went south.

It never made her mad. It made her thrilled. Let them try all they wanted; she mused; this guy? All hers.

Jill said, "You work out the time off?"

"I did. Finally." Leon shifted now and turned in his seat a little more toward her. His fingers lifted and poked an errant curl behind her ear. She turned her face to kiss his palm. "Gonna be a busy week. You ready for it?"

And the lights came up in the theater as the play drew to a close.

People started talking and rising. Jill answered him, "Am I ready to finalize the adoption? I'm more than ready. It's official as of tomorrow; we're Ben's parents."

And nothing had ever felt better. Nothing. Ever.

And then Jill rose from her seat, and Ben came barreling down the aisle toward him. Leon stepped out and picked him up, tossing him while he giggled.

He wore a gray dove suit with no jacket. The pale blue shirt and powder blue tie complimented his skin and befriended the Ferragamo loafers he wore like some men wore Wranglers. Ben giggled and clung like a burr. "I missed you...Dad. I been waiting and waiting. Kyle's Dad got here early. He's a trashcan, man. What's a trashcan, man? Like Oscar, the Grouch?"

Leon snorted a little. "Possibly. You wish I were a trashcan man?"

Ben considered this. "Maybe no."

"Why not?"

"Then you'd be the smelliest, Dad. I can't hab a smelly, Dad. All the kids would laugh at me. But is it ok if I get smelly sometimes?"

Leon chuckled and kissed him behind his ear. "That's probably ok. Depending on the why."

Ben giggled and clung to him. "Sometimes I farts after lunch. I can't help it."

Leon gave him a serious face, "...wanna know a secret?"

Ben nodded, looking wise, and Leon added, "...me too, kid." This caused the boy to giggle and reply, "Know what?"

Leon tilted his head, grinning. "What?"

"I'm p'etty glad you're my Dad now."

Jesus.

Would he ever get tired of hearing that?

Objectively, no. He had to clear his throat twice to answer, though. Not exactly his manliest moment, but maybe his most honest.

Gruffly, Leon intoned, "Know what? I'm pretty glad I'm your Dad too, pal. You think we can make it forever?"

"I think maybe that's ok...if you get me a sheeping dog."

And now Leon laughed. He laughed. And held him close.

"Deal."

Nothing had ever felt better than standing here with his wife and his son. No zombies. No blood. No conspiracies. Just a little beard and a big hat and a hug.

Nothing better in the world.

And then Jill turned, finished talking to one of the other mom's and turned, and her big belly got there first.

Oh yeah, he mused, a little beard, a big hat, a hug, and a big belly with a baby in it.

She'd said, I can't have children. That first day. That first day they'd met. She'd said she couldn't conceive.

Yup. He'd made a liar out of her.

Timeline-wise – he was pretty sure he knocked her up the first time he touched her. Why not? He was virile. He was clearly a stud. He clearly was a bigger stud than Redfield. He'd filled her up and knocked her up in one shot.

Leon muttered, "Boom goes the dynamite."

And mentally high-fived himself.

Jill waddled a little toward him. She said, "You two studs ready to blow this joint? The fat fetus in my belly says it needs chicken wings. Or pizza. Or potentially ice cream. Maybe all three. And maybe with pickles and Pepsi."

Leon lifted a brow, "Together? In a dog pile?" He rubbed her belly and felt the baby in there kick him for it. Jesus. It never failed to thrill him.

"Possibly." She chuckled and looped her arm around his waist as he hoisted Ben on his shoulders. She tucked her hand into his back pocket and grabbed his ass. He pursed his lips and considered this.

"The fetus needs sustenance….what does the incubator need?" They were in the parking lot now. Late spring was lovely. Dogwood trees dropped pretty white petals around them.

He hit the release on his keys. And something was moving in his car.

Jill blinked. She blinked and grabbed his hand, "...what did you do, Mr. Kennedy?"

"Kept a promise."

Ben opened the back door...and let out a giggle and a squeal so loud that people stopped to see what had happened.

Because a big fat shaggy white and brown lump was leaping all around the back seat over the boy that laughed and squeezed it.

Jill whispered, teary-eyed, "You got him a sheeping dog."

"...it would appear that is what happened, yes."

"You were late because you were picking up a puppy for your son."

"...survey says yes."

He buckled Ben into his seat with the leaping puppy and came around the car to open the door for Jill.

He rubbed her belly again, watching her face. What was on it? She was looking at him like he might taste like pie. Or give her an adrenaline shot in the chest. "So, wife, what does the incubator need?"

She gripped two handfuls of his vest and tugged him down to her. "Haven't you figured that part out yet? This incubator needs Leon Kennedy. So how about we go home, and both think about your face for a change."

"An interesting statement. Why are we both thinking about my face?"

"Because the incubator wants to practice breastfeeding. I need a willing participant to demonstrate the functional ramifications of the action... You wanna be my test subject?"

Was there a man alive who would say no to that?

He shifted a hand to cup one of those perfect breasts and watched the excitement shoot across her beautiful face.

Maybe there was. Maybe there was such a man. Maybe.

But then again, that man had never been in love with Jill Valentine.

And the one that dropped his mouth to kiss her?

Well, he'd been looking for her all his life.