WhIP

by footfungus

nederlands verhalen over mijn otp

41. Leon Kennedy x OC 3

Mind Games

cassfics

Summary:

23-year-old Leon Kennedy, Umbrella's finest agent, is sent to Raccoon City in September 1998, during the night of the horrifying outbreak. He's told to secure a sample of the G-virus and to get rid of William Birkin, as well as to kill any of the remaining survivors he runs into.

The first survivor he comes across?

You.

Notes:

A few things you should know before reading;

1. Reader is female and a 19-year-old college student.
2. This is an alternative universe where Leon is one of Umbrella's top agents. He's 23 when he's sent to Raccoon City, not 21. His character will be leaning towards anti-hero in this fic.
3. I'm not an experienced writer, English is not my first language, I do this for fun. My apologies in advance for any typos or mistakes.
4. This fic is cross-posted from my Wattpad (same username) so if you prefer reading it there go check it out 3
5. Leon's outfit for this fic is his default hairstyle and the noir suit.
6. Do not repost, copy or remake this story in any way whatsoever!
7. While it's going to take a few chapters to get to the actual smutty parts, please be aware that the NSFW content in this fic is heavily detailed (pure self indulgence of course).
8. I do my best to make reader as inclusive as possible, so obviously things like eye/skin/hair color are all neutral. The only physical trait I occasionally mention is the fact that she has long hair, or at least shoulder length, but you can always ignore those little things if that doesn't apply to you.
9. Please note that this fic contains heavy themes and a whole lotta drama and it is not everyone's cup of tea. Which is fine. Don't like, don't read. Hate comments will be deleted and blocked.

Link to the Spotify playlist I made for this fic: playlist/2th4YVxAcWutbRmlFeFhtR?si=lbAGFydESRGLwntParj_tg

Heads up: DO NOT read this fic if you're under 16. Seriously.

Chapter 1: Zombies and Other Shenanigans

Chapter Text

One mission.

All he has to do is complete one mission. One mission in a single night. His other assignments have taken up much more of his time. What the hell is a few hours anyways?

They didn't tell him much. The mission was assigned to him on short notice, all he knows is that there's been a virus outbreak in Raccoon, which is exactly where he needs to go. The night is probably gonna be long, and they've told him that going there could get him killed — but that risk has always been in every mission.

Rain lashes down the road. It's already dark out, the moon shining somewhere in the distance, as he can see in the rear mirror of his jeep. The sound of the raindrops tapping against the windows is drowned out by some rock song playing on the radio.

It's almost too quiet on the road. Like he needs to be afraid of whatever's waiting for him in Raccoon City.

He isn't.

There's going to be a gas station in about ten miles. He needs to make a stop there to make it to the city. He's driven for several hours already — wondering what the hell he's gonna be in for.

Slightly turning down the volume of the radio, he takes a right, parking his car next to one of the gas pumps. He steps out of the jeep, muffling the music as he closes the door and looks around curiously.

A frown appears on his face as soon as he sees no one in or around the place. Taking a few steps forward, he notices the blood on the floor, and he just knows that it has something to do with whatever he's going to encounter soon.

He takes his gun in hand, then uses his other hand to twist the doorknob, entering the store. As he looks down, the first thing catching his eye is the flashlight on the floor, as well as the pool of blood.

Flashlights could be helpful. He picks it up, holding it in his hand as he keeps walking past the aisles. Near a door, hidden in a corner, a man is sitting in what seems to be his own blood, one hand covering his neck. He's bleeding out, fast.

"Did you get bit?" He asks the man, and he nods slowly as a response.

Shoot them in the head.

Those are his orders. If they get bitten, shoot them in the head. No questions asked.

While this man is still alive, he's not going to be for much longer — so he doesn't say anything and simply uses his handgun to do what he's been told.

The man had pointed to what seemed to be the door to the cooler of the store. The hair on his arms stand up straight from the cold as he makes his way through to another door that's ajar. While holding up the flashlight, he pushes the door open with his elbow, since he's still holding his gun in his other hand.

"Stop moving!"

A deputy sheriff is restraining a man with bloody hands. "Officer, you need help?" Said sheriff turns around at his words, letting go of the arm behind his back.

"Stay back sir, I got this!"

What happens afterwards goes quick like lightning. The officer gets pushed on the floor by the person he was restraining, and Jesus Christ—the sight of the officer getting an organ torn out of his skin is beyond disgusting.

When its empty eyes settle on him, he knows it is time to get moving. He aims at the creature, which makes sounds that are something ripped straight out of a horror movie, before giving it several headshots. It's put down, so he walks forward, then to the right, seeing there's a key on the wall littered with posters. The storage room key, apparently.

That's enough to get out of here.

As he walks back, he can see it getting up again, but he's quick enough to unlock the door and leave it behind, only to get back into the same part of the store again. Another zombie tries to attack him from behind the shelves, but he manages to run past it, though not without said shelf knocking over.

As he gets to the exit, pushing the door open, he bumps into someone, grabbing them by the arms as a result.

That person he bumped into just so happened to be you.

Merely about a minute after he entered the store, you arrived at the gas station, entirely unaware of the very recent quarantine of Raccoon City. After parking your car, you too saw the blood on the ground, and heard weird noises all around you that sent a shiver down your spine.

For some reason, you decided to go into the store for help rather than drive off again, only to bump face first into the upper chest of a guy you've never seen before in your life.

His hard gaze softens just a tiny bit when he sees you're still human, and seemingly not bitten. Neither of you have the opportunity to even speak to one another before the zombie that knocked over the shelf bangs its ugly face against the door, and a horde of even more of them begins to corner the two of you.

Seeing the car of the now deceased deputy still has its doors open, he gestures for you to jump into the car with him. "The car! Come on!"

And you do. You push one of them away before getting into the passengers seat, closing the door with all the speed you can muster, as he drives away from the gas station as fast as possible.

It's quiet for a second as you try to catch your breath. Your heart is beating so fast that you can feel it in your throat. "... Jesus fucking Christ."

"You okay?" He asks.

You blink a few times, but nod anyways. "Yeah... yeah, I guess."

"Live around here?" He asks, his hands loosely holding onto the steering wheel.

You shake your head, eyes rapidly moving around just to get a hold of where you are and what you're doing. "No, my uncle does. I was coming to visit him for a few days."

He just hums in response, still focusing on the road in front of him. "I didn't catch your name."

Before you know it, the words are rolling off your tongue already. "I didn't catch yours, either."

He lets out a small chuckle at your reply. "Leon Kennedy. And you are...?"

You tell him your name. For a split second, you think he's checking you out, very briefly eyeing you up and down — at least, as much as he can, since you're sitting down.

It's actually pretty cold outside for a September night, and the heavy rain is certainly not helping. You're wearing a jacket that ends at your hips with some tough leather straps on it, as well as a white, thin, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black jeans and thigh-high boots, which thankfully enough don't have a painfully high heel. Had it not been for what the hell just happened, you would've felt a lot better, because you do actually look good. You even have some nice makeup on, for fuck's sake.

"What about you then? Why're you here?" You ask him, genuinely curious about his answer.

Obviously he knew the question was gonna come, it was inevitable.

The truth is that he was recruited by Umbrella during his first year at the police academy. He'd been at the top of his classes, a fast learner and quick to think and act. He was told some story about how they did good things for people, and somehow, he'd believed it. Well — partially, anyway. The assignments he's done before this point mainly consisted of gaining intel and killing people who actually deserved it. He was one of if not the finest agent Umbrella had.

So when they told him about what was happening in Raccoon City, he was surprised, to say the least. An outbreak that turned people into creatures? It sounded like something from a movie, yet it's true, and even for him, it's much more horrifying than he expected.

His goals are simple. First and most important is to get a sample of the G-virus, then there's also supposedly a man named William Birkin who needs to be executed for betraying the company. The government reportedly has similar goals, so he needs to get there first.

He's also been told to get rid of any remaining survivors. The first and only one he's met so far is you.

But he's never been one to go by the book. He'll kill the ones he wants to kill. Besides, you just might be useful to him.

But he can't tell you about all that.

Luckily for him, though, he's a good liar. "I'm a cop, actually. Today was supposed to be my first day, but I ran late."

Thinking he was telling the truth, you pout a little, feeling for him. "Oh. Way to kick off."

"Tell me about it."

The drive to Raccoon City is rather short. As Leon is driving, you try to look at him from the corner of your eye.

He's boyishly handsome. His short, dark ash-blond hair is parted in curtains, with icy blue eyes that make you feel a little intimidated whenever they meet yours. Not to mention how fit he seems too. You can see those muscles underneath his rolled up sleeves. He's wearing a gray vest over it, with a loosened red tie and vertical shoulder holsters, as if he's some old-fashioned detective. Maybe it's a strange outfit to pick for a first day on the police force, but you're certainly not complaining — because you feel yourself strangely drawn to him and his pretty face. He's a sight for sore eyes.

While you tried to be subtle, Leon still catches you looking at him, the corner of his lip curling upwards from pride. He would've teased you about it if you weren't driving into Raccoon City just then.

"Attention all citizens: due to the citywide outbreak, you are advised to take shelter at the Raccoon City police station. Free food and medical supplies will be provided to everyone in need."

Your eyes widen after listening to the announcement cracking through the speakers as you drive into the city. "The police station? We should go there."

"Planning on it. Though it looks like we may have to walk. Road's blocked." The man in the suit sitting next to you mentions, nodding his head to all the cars behind the blockade in front of you. The rain is still pouring, streetlights flickering on and off, and for some reason you start feeling less and less safe in this city.

As you look to your right, you see what seems to be two people, on their knees, leaning over something resembling a body. Then it turns around, looks you straight in the eye, and you already feel your heart rate picking up again. "Hey, uh, Leon?"

You nudge him with your arm, and he looks at the sight you're pointing at. "Shit. We gotta move."

Just then, as if you needed to be scared once more tonight, a zombie launches himself onto Leon's window, which not even he saw coming. "Jesus Christ!"

The amount of creatures pushing at your car, desperately trying to get in and eat both of you alive, is getting higher and higher. Hastily, Leon tries to back up, but with the weight of all the zombies, the police car doesn't move.

Both of you look behind you as you see some small light in the distance getting bigger and brighter with each passing second. You feel your breath hitch in your throat.

"Get out. Get out now!" Leon yells after seeing the light belongs to a truck coming your way in rapid speed, seemingly not slowing down in the slightest.

Both of you begin to push at your doors. While his car is budging a little bit, yours seems to be stuck entirely, and you begin to become frustrated. "I can't! It's stuck!"

"Shit!" He exclaims before gripping the steering wheel with everything he's got. "Hold on!"

Without thinking, because you don't even have the damn time to do so, you put your hands on the dashboard, closing your eyes as you hope you'll still be alive after this.

Then the crash comes.

It happens faster than your brain can comprehend. You feel a small ache in your neck, the rest of the pain undoubtedly catching up with you later tonight due to the adrenaline in your body right now. Leon feels surprisingly well, considering he just bumped his head against the steering wheel.

He gets out of the car, though not without dragging you out with him, because your door is still stuck. He does it just in time, and only seconds after you stumbled out, the car catches on fire. While you're still focused on him, he looks at the wreck of the truck behind you, and he's already done with the night.

"Oh, fuck." He says, stepping back, tugging you on your arm before the truck blows up, and your backs hit a car from the huge explosion.

You groaned. Yeah. That one definitely hurt more. Jesus.

Leon blinks a few times and hisses in pain as he stands up again, looking around him. He recognizes the sounds from the gas station and sees a group of zombies surrounding the two of you, even walking through the damn fire, because of course they do.

He helps you up, your legs shaking, but you can still walk. "Time to run. Stick with me, okay?"

And he doesn't wait for an answer as he starts to jog, with his gun in hand and you coming after him.

The streets are a mess. Zombies everywhere, trash, wood, debris and other items on the ground, fire emerging from cars, streetlights nearly falling over, bodies on the floor.

You two go through an alleyway, and with every corner you need to pass, you're afraid that there will be another jump-scare, maybe even one that'll get you killed.

Thankfully enough, you make it through unscathed as you walk up the stairs. You get a small moment to breathe, looking up to see the R.P.D. in the distance. It was quite the building, with the lights and the clocktower in the middle.

All you need to do is get there without getting bit.

Pulling yourself together, you nod at Leon, the pair of you moving to get to the station. You hear the sound of glass windows breaking, zombies groaning and your heels tapping against the sleek surface of the road.

There's a few zombies in front of the white gate, but you dodge them easily, and by the time they're getting up, Leon has already shut the gate and locked it.

You look at the creatures banging against the steel. They're ugly, with ripped skin and blood and white, void eyes. It's a scary sight.

Leon begins to walk again, opening up the front door of the station, gesturing for you to walk in before him.

While it was undoubtedly just out of good manners, in a situation like this, you're not exactly keen on going in first.

All your thoughts fly out the window, though, as soon as you step inside. You've arrived in what looks like the main hall, and it's full of light, with grand stairs and a huge statue of a goddess in the middle. It looks like something out of a museum, with towering pillars on the side and in the middle of the hall.

Then you notice the blue, hospital-like curtains, convertible beds and papers scattered on the polished floor. There's some green boxes, on which stands a bottle of first aid spray. You shrug to yourself, putting it back.

All those things here meant one thing.

There have to be survivors, right?

Leon walks over to the brown desk. A typewriter, a computer, a box, a fan, a lamp and a few other things. He walks over to the computer, pushing a button on the keyboard, and both a map of the station and some camera footage pop up. You go to stand next to him when there's sudden movement on the footage, of what seems to be an officer shooting a zombie.

"David! Marvin! You there!?" He looks directly into the camera before taking a notebook out of his pocket, holding it up. "I found a way out! It's in here. Send reinforcements! East hallway!" And he shoots a zombie, letting it get close before pushing it off him again. The sight of it makes you worry for his life.

"We gotta find that guy." You say with determination, even though you're frightened to the bone.

Leon nods, and he walks towards a shutter. There's a big sign, made of some cut out cardboard, that says 'Keep Out!' and you look over at him. He opens the shutter by pushing down the switch on the left of it, the red light turning green as it only opens just a little — but it's big enough for you to crawl underneath.

He gets on one knee, his eyes locking with yours after he turns his head. "We should move."

You bite your lip, feeling a bit hesitant. "It says we should keep out."

The young man tilts his head, grinning a little. "Scared, sweetheart?" It's his way of lightening the mood, and he likes teasing girls from time to time — especially shy girls. You seem to be the latter.

"It's a zombie apocalypse. Of course I'm scared." Your tone is dry and there's a glare on your face, but it's the truth, and you both know it.

He gets his flashlight out, flicking it on. "Stay close to me, okay? My heart is fucking pounding, too, if I'm honest." He's not sure whether he's scared or if it's just the adrenaline, but he'd rather go in there with you by his side than on his own.

Letting out a sigh, you nod. "Okay."

He nods, crawling underneath the shutter. After taking a deep breath, you begin to get down too, hoping that there'll be answers about this whole mess waiting for you.

You get up from the ground, and what you see is not a pretty sight.

The floor is partially flooded, and both the floor and the walls are covered in blood like it's paint. You're really, genuinely scared that you'll die right here, right now.

This is literally the worst case scenario. You hate this, you hate being here and having to do this, you wish you could teleport yourself right out of here.

You're caught by surprise when Leon takes your hand. He shrugs casually. "Just a precaution." You raise your brow for a second but decide that you're actually more than content with it. It makes you feel a bit more safe, and his hands are warm compared to yours.

On your left, you notice a fuse box, which is missing — surprise — one of the fuses. That's probably why the door didn't open entirely. On your right, there's a door, but it appears to be locked after Leon fails to get it open.

He starts to walk, pulling you along with him, carefully peeking past the corner before you walk again. The second door that comes up is on your left. It's dark, and it seems like the body on the floor is the only one there. You don't hear any zombies groaning, so that's a good sign.

You decide to flick the switch on the wall, and the light turns on. There's a load of blood on the floor, and you try not to step in it, a disgusted look on your face. It seems to be some sort of press room, with a desk and some microphones on it.

Leon notices the small, red box on the floor next to the body — it's handgun ammo. That's probably gonna be useful for him in the future, so he carefully picks it up, taking it with him.

You're amazed at his boldness, how he doesn't seem afraid, just determined. You should probably be glad that you're stuck with a rookie cop during a night like this. He's somewhat trained for this.

After finding the drawers in the desk completely empty, you sigh. "Got a whole pile of nothin'."

"Me too." He responds, gesturing to the door. "We should move on."

Nodding, you follow him out of the room again, seeing a partially toppled cabinet right in front of you. The last thing you want to do right now is make noise, but it's the only way through, so you'll have to. Well, you want to, but Leon gets the cabinet upright before you can even begin to protest.

You two are both so engulfed by your own thoughts and being careful that you don't even say anything to each other. You're both on high alert and far away from reality with your mind. It's strange.

On the left is the women's bathroom. You open the door, the sound of water running getting louder immediately. There's two stalls with closed doors, so Leon carefully opens them, one at a time, with his gun raised.

Thankfully enough, he doesn't have to waste any bullets. The stalls are empty — save for the first aid spray you find on top of one of the toilets. You decide to take this one with you, and when Leon looks at you weirdly, you shrug, mimicking his words. "Just a precaution."

He snickers. "Women."

It's the first time that night that you smile. Not a big one, with teeth and all that — it's a small one, but it's there. It feels like the world has gone to hell, but for a split second, you forgot about it.

But you had to leave the bathroom, and what you see after doing so snaps you right back to your horrifying reality.

There's bodies all over the place, as well as dark, red blood, scattered paperwork, books and—more blood, because Jesus Christ, that's all you're seeing right now.

This time, surprisingly enough, it's not a zombie that startles you, it's the sound of someone yelling. "Hurry! Open up! Open this goddamn door!"

Both you and Leon quickly make your way through the wooden door to get to the man yelling. Just as you thought, you recognize him as the man from the camera recording. An officer.

"We're here! We'll get you out!" You tell him as Leon opens the fire safety door, and both of you give him one hand, and drag him into the room. Just in time, because from the banging sounds on the other side, he was probably about to get eaten.

"Thank you." He exhales in relief, and you only get a brief look at the officer before you hear more banging sounds, this time from behind the door you just walked through.

And a zombie busts through the door. Leon gets his gun out, but the officer doesn't. He's watching with wide eyes, probably because it used to be his... his colleague.

Jesus.

Leon puts it down with three headshots. "We can't stay here, come on!"

It all goes by like a blur. The three of you leave as fast as you can. A zombie breaks the window and falls through, two more appear from what sounds like a previously barred room, and you push them out of your way because you can't seem to get around them.

As you get back to the shutter, Leon pushes it up a little while he's underneath it, getting out quickly, after which you and the officer follow. When you're nearly out, something grabs you, and you see the face of not one, but two zombies at your feet.

"Fuck! Get off!" You pant in frustration and fear, trying to push them off, and Leon and the officer are now trying to pull you out, but it's not until someone else's hands grab your wrists as well that you finally manage to get out.

He takes a hold of the shutter, lifting it up just the slightest bit before forcefully pushing it down, smashing the heads of the two zombies that were trying to get you.

You're sitting on the floor, leaning on your arms as you look at the man by the shutter. "You're safe... for now." He falls backwards, against it, groaning in pain as you notice the huge wound on the right side of his stomach.

"Thank you." You breathe out, because he did just save your life.

He shakes his head, waving with his hand. "We gotta look out for each other." He speaks, extending his hand to you. "Marvin Branagh."

You tell him your name before he helps you up to your feet again, then looks over to Leon. "Leon Kennedy."

"Wish we could've met under better circumstances. This is my colleague, Elliot Edward."

You turn to the officer whose life you saved, thinking about how crazy this shit all is.

"How did you two end up here?" Marvin asks as he gestures to go sit on the makeshift medical beds in the room.

You sigh. "We met at a gas station nearby. The place was crawling with zombies, so we managed to escape and drive over here."

Marvin nods while sitting down, wincing in pain. "Well, you're not getting out that way again. How about that passageway, Elliot?"

The other officer takes a blue notebook from his pocket, opening it up. "The station actually used to be a museum. The statue you see here? There's those hollow spots where you can insert medallions." He gets up, pointing at them. "There's three smaller statues in the station where you can get the medallions. One is up here, on top of the stairs, one is in the lounge and one is all the way up in the east storage room." He uses a pen to write it down simply in the notebook.

"Then we go get them and get the hell out of here, right?" You ask.

Elliot shakes his head. "I wish it was that easy. Every room in here is filled with zombies, so you'll need to get past them, and the medallion up in the storage room requires a detonator, because that's the only way you'll be able to get to it—"

"We need to see it for ourselves, don't we?" Leon interrupts, because he knows where this is going.

Elliot nods, though he seemingly feels a bit guilty about it. "Unfortunately, yes. I would come with you, but I'd just slow you down."

You frown. "We may be younger, but—"

"He's infected."

Leon's direct but cold words cause a brief silence. Elliot swallows, his head hanging low when he explains how it happened. "One of 'em attacked me in the hallway, just before you pulled me out of there."

And you feel bad. Damnit. So you're standing here with Leon and the two officers that are probably the last ones alive, and both of them have been bitten.

You can't dwell on your sadness on the situation. Once you do that, you'll bawl your eyes out until you have not a single tear left, and that's the last thing anyone here needs right now.

Pressing your lips together, you stand up, determined to show the two men that you'll at least do your best to save them. Maybe they can be saved. Who knows. You'll be damned if you don't try.

You turn to Leon. "Then we should get going to find the medallions, right?"

"I think you should stay here. Let me handle it." He says, and you furrow your brows, because you're getting offended here.

"What?"

"It'll be faster, and I don't want you to get hurt. You don't have a weapon."

"Are you kidding? I'm not just gonna sit here, waiting for you to get us somewhere!"

Leon slightly rolls his eyes as he looks from the officers back at you, a small hint of amusement on his face as he watches the scowl on yours, knowing you'll just come with him either way, no matter what he tells you. He feels he's going to have his hands full with that stubbornness of yours. "Alright. Fine."

Marvin stretches his hand out to you, a large combat knife in his palm. "Take this."

"Thank you."

"It should be good for now. There's a weapons locker room next to the West Office, try going there, I know there's some useful things inside. Be careful. And if you see one of those things, uniform or not, you do not hesitate. You take it out, or you run, because this place will eat you alive if you aren't careful." And he's talking to you, because he has the feeling that Leon won't hesitate either way.

You swallow, but nod. "Yes, sir."

Elliot takes out his gun, picking out the last few bullets he had, giving them to Leon. "These probably won't be of much use to me anymore, but you're gonna need them."

Taking a hair tie you find in your back pocket, you put your hair up in a ponytail, bangs hanging loosely and hugging your facial features.

Leon touches your arm, gesturing for the two of you to start on the plan you need to execute to get the hell out of here.

Find three medallions, and try not to get eaten while you're doing it.

Surely that can't be too hard.

Chapter 2: Keep Your Enemies Close Enough and You'll Start Liking 'Em

Summary:

You and Leon begin the exploration of the station.

Chapter Text

Using the knife Marvin just gave you, you cut through the yellow tape on the box. You pull it open, seeing another lever, which you push down in order to open the second shutter tonight.

It opens, and you notice a green-looking plant by the kiosk. "Is that an herb?"

Leon nods. "Yeah. We should probably take that with us, could be useful."

He rips it apart, taking only the part that has medicinal benefits, as well as the handgun ammo he finds on one of the seats opposite of the reception desk, and both of you find it a bit strange that all of these things are just sitting around in a police station, but you decide not to bring it up.

Before you go through the wooden door at the end of the reception room, Leon holds out his hand again, and you take it. It's the one thing that still makes you feel just a bit sane at the moment.

All you see is darkness. That is until Leon flicks on his flashlight, showing a hallway that makes your skin crawl. The blue walls as well as the black and white tiles are covered in splatters of blood, and there's a body sitting at the corner, next to a window boarded up with some wooden planks.

The last thing you want to do is go further in here, but you have to — and that's what you tell yourself. If you want to get out of here, you have to do this, as scary as it is. Leon can feel the way you're gripping his hand tighter, and he understands.

After taking a few steps forward, you see a path to the right that's blocked off. Shit. You wonder how many more times that's gonna happen, and if it's ever going to be a problem for you to escape from a certain area.

You shiver at the thought.

So you keep walking. You get closer and closer to the body when you're a bit startled by the sound of a voice cracking through a radio, which seems to belong to the officer's body on the floor. "This is 73-Bird—for rescue—heading east—River. Touchdown at R.P.D.—minutes."

"Rescue? An aircraft? Helicopter?" You whisper, not feeling safe enough to talk normally.

Leon merely hums before turning his attention to the body on the floor, and for some reason he feels like he should check the body. The head hangs forward, so he puts his hand on its forehead, tilting the head back.

You want to throw up at the sight. The officer is missing half his cheek, skin partially ripped out, blood dripping on the floor as the only thing holding up his jaw is the tissue covered in blood. "What the fuck!?" Leon says in disgust.

Then you both jump at the sound of something like a can hitting the floor behind you. There's a flashlight on the tiles, right next to the pool of blood, above which a body of another officer is hanging from a pipe that's shoved right through his mouth and neck.

Yeah. Now you want to cry.

You breathe out heavily before your words come out much louder than you intended them to. "Oh my God—"

Before you can say or yell or scream anything else, Leon comes up from behind you, putting his hand over your mouth. "Be quiet. We can't attract any attention."

A few tears silently run down your cheeks, but you manage to keep quiet.

He lets go of your mouth, taking your hand again as he softens his voice before speaking up again. "C'mon. Don't look at it, just look straight in front of you, we're okay. Steady breaths, yeah?"

Nodding, you swallow and hum in response. He nods and takes you to walk further with him again. Just after you've passed the body, there's a door with a clover on it, and you raise your brow. Seems like you're gonna need a clover key for it, and of course, it's locked.

The cracking of the radio fades away as the sound of the wind and the rain gets louder. Carefully peeking past the corner again, there's an open window, the glass broken. You move forward, ignoring it, and there's another window that's not boarded up at the end of the hall, but the glass isn't broken.

A woman pops up at the other side of the window, banging on it from the outside, and you beg for the window not to break — but it does, and Leon quickly drags you into a nearby room, through a red door.

There's a shitload of chairs inside for some reason, and you see a tiny box of bullets, instantly handing it over to Leon. You're unsure of how much ammo he's already got now, but it feels like a good amount.

On the coffee table, there's a note from someone called David Ford — you read it quickly. Survivors were apparently cut off from the outside world, a clash happened at the station, and now there's barely anyone left. A wave of sadness hits you.

"Hey, Princess. Look over here." You grimace at the nickname he's given you, but all your thoughts are thrown out the window as soon as you see what he's pointing at.

A map.

It covers only the first floor of the station, and from what Elliot told you, there's three floors, so you still need to find two more maps — but it's a whole lot better than nothing. You come to the conclusion that you're currently standing in the Operations Room.

On the right, there's another door, but it's chained up. You'll need a bolt cutter to get through that. You hear the sound of the female zombie who just broke the window pushing against the door, and the only way out seems to be a high, broken window that you can reach by stepping on top of a crate.

Leon pushes you forward and you drop into the hallway on the other side. He jumps right in front of you, his gun raised in a split second when he sees a heavy-looking zombie standing by the vending machine, pushing against it. The sight of it is almost funny. You didn't think a zombie would be interested in getting a bag of chips, but here it is.

Turning around, you see a body on the floor, with some handgun ammo. With your knife in the other hand, just in case, you snatch the little red box away, grinning triumphantly at Leon when he looks at you.

He thinks he might not have to shoot the zombie, since it genuinely seems to want to eat a snack rather than the two of you, but he doesn't want to take the risk.

His shots are coordinated and precise, with a proper pause in between them to make them more effective. The zombie falls backwards, and he gives it another shot, making its head explode.

It gives you a good feeling. "Think he'll get up after that?"

"Let's hope not."

Your eyes dart around the hallway. There's several options. The door behind you is locked. There's a door on your right, leading to the West Office, as well as one on your left, the Safety Deposit Room. You could also pass the corner, which led to the Darkroom, if you remember correctly from the map you shoved in your pocket just a minute ago.

But it appears that you and Leon are on the same page here.

Safety Deposit Room is up first.

It's a very bright room, as bright as the Main Hall. It hurts your eyes for a second, because all the hallways and the rooms you've had to pass through were all so dark.

The room is small, though. There's lockers with numbers on them, and you walk by to see the items in them. A knife, ammo, a roll of film, a shotgun—

A shotgun.

"Leon! It's a fucking shotgun!"

He chuckles. "You sound awfully excited about that for someone who's never even held a firearm in their life."

You furrow your brows. "I never told you that."

"No, I just guessed. A good guess, wasn't it?"

When he tilts his head, you just roll your eyes. Cocky bastard. "Let's just... focus on the mission here, alright? Professional."

"If we get that shotgun, I'm using it, not you."

"What? Why!?"

"Because you can't shoot? Obviously. A shotgun kicks back a lot too, it can be difficult to use for someone without experience. Trust me on this, will you?"

He has a point there. You pout at him, trying to negotiate. "Then I'm getting Matilda."

Strange name for a gun.

"You've got your knife."

"Yeah. That's all I've got. One knife. How much ammo have we gathered for you by now? You could shoot a ton of zombies with all those bullets. I can afford to miss one or two shots."

He scoffs. "Yeah, one or two. Not twenty."

"Ten. I'll even let you keep count."

Raising his brow, he leans back. "Okay."

A smile appears on your face, as you raise your shoulders, whipping your hair and feeling a bit proud. Leon doesn't show it to you, but when your back is facing him, he smiles too. Having you with him, talking to him like this, it makes him feel better.

You both turn to the keypad, on which you need to enter a locker number to open it up. There's a few keys missing, and according to the memo you found on the desk, someone stole two of the keys.

Because that's just what you do in a zombie apocalypse.

The note hints at the fact that there's spare keys somewhere in the station, but you frown. You don't have time for that shit too, damnit.

"Can you tell me the numbers?" You ask him, and he nods.

"106, 109... there's also 102 and 103, but you can't open those without—"

Leon's caught by surprise when the red light on locker 102 turns green, and he can open it up. He looks over at you, seeing you holding up the knife. "I used the pointy end to push it."

Nope. He would not have thought of that.

"Smart girl." He hums, noticing the slight blush staining your cheeks. "There's also 208 and 203, by the way."

You press the buttons. After opening all the lockers, you end up with gunpowder, another knife, a roll of film, more handgun ammo, shotgun shells, and something that looks like a hip pouch. Leon takes the second knife, since you still have the one Marvin gave you, and you put the rest of it all in the pouch that's now attached to your hip.

Adrenaline starts rushing through your body again the moment the door moves. Leon gets his gun out, aiming at the zombie that's about to burst into the room. It's ugly, with only one arm for some reason, and a stupid ass police hat on.

With five bullets, he falls down on the ground, but his head doesn't explode like the other zombie did. You pray to the universe that he won't get up again.

The only time you have to get back there is to get the shotgun, but to get the shotgun, you'll have to find a keycard for it somewhere.

The list of things you have to collect just keeps getting higher with every passing minute.

You exit the room, moving on to the West Office across from you. The first thing you notice is an officer hunched over his desk, and you have a feeling that he's not exactly asleep.

More like dead. Or undead. You're not really sure.

Leon nudges at your arm, gaining your attention, bringing his fingers to his lips, signaling for you to keep quiet. You nod and silently walk over to the desk, spotting a note on the uses of gunpowder. With the gunpowder from the Safety Deposit Room and the gunpowder on this desk, you can make some more handgun ammo. That certainly comes in handy. There's more bullets in the locker behind you.

On a random desk, you find something that looks like it belongs to a pistol, you're just not sure what it is. You put it in your pocket. You'll show it to Leon later, in a place where you can talk properly without having to die for it.

With the zombie sitting on the floor still out, and the other one at the desk as well, you leave the West Office.

Taking a deep breath, you hand the custom part of the gun over to Leon. "I found this."

He looks at it curiously. "That's a high-capacity mag. It extends clip capacity to what looks like... 24 rounds. That's good."

You're happy to be of help, making yourself useful.

Moving on, you pass the corner, seeing a window in the distance, a zombie banging on the glass again. It's only a matter of time before it breaks.

"Fuck these stupid windows." You angrily mention before looking to your right, where you spot some sturdy pieces of wood covered in yellow tape. Maybe you could use that to board up the window.

Leon is thinking the same thing, and the two of you quickly put it up against the window to ensure your safety from the zombie behind it.

There's also a green herb on the floor, which you take with you. Leon checks the room carefully, and when he sees there's no threat, he can finally breathe for a second. He flicks the light switch on.

He gets the map from your pocket. "Darkroom. That's where we are. Can you give me that roll of film?"

You do as he asks, and he starts developing whatever's inside. While he's doing so, you check the lockers, finding some more gunpowder and ammo.

On the desk, you see a typewriter as well as another note, this time saying something about the medicinal benefit of herbs. You read it all, finding it genuinely useful and even interesting.

"It's a commemorative photo." Leon speaks up when you're finished reading, holding it out to you. Whatever you expected to see, it wasn't this.

On the photo, you find a statue of some sort of king, holding a red book in his one hand and a scepter in the other.

"Christ. That's helpful."

"I'm not sure what to do with it either. Let's just take it with us. Who knows."

You hum in agreement, folding it up into your pocket. The map is still spread out on the desk. "We've covered most of the west side of this floor, except for the Records Room and this small unnamed room, but we can't get in there. Now that I'm looking at it, we also covered a large part of the east side. We rescued Elliot in the Watchman's Room and went through the Press Room as well as the Bathroom. This hallway, too."

Leon nods, seeing you're correct. "Time to go up the stairs, then."

You take a deep breath. You just covered about one side of just a single floor, and there's two more floors, and you need to do both the east and west side.

How many more zombies are gonna be there? Ten? Twenty? You start to wonder whether Marvin and Elliot are doing okay.

No they're not. They're dying.

"You okay?"

Leon's voice pulls you out of it, and you blink a few times. "Yeah. Let's just go."

You reach out for the comfort of his hand again, and he does the same. It's the one coping mechanism the two of you seem to share right now.

As you get up the stairs, you hear the distinct sound of a creaking chandelier swinging on the ceiling.

Of course you're met with the sight of more blood — it's practically normal to you at this point. There's a female officer with bloody hands sitting in the corner, and Leon doesn't hesitate to get Matilda out, shooting it in the head. He was smart to do so, because the head of the zombie explodes just like that, in one shot.

Seeing that happen is the closest you're getting to actually feeling good tonight. You're pretty sure popping their heads like that means they're down for good, so you're happy about it.

Jesus. You're happy with exploding heads.

While you're still standing on the stairs, you take a few steps, seeing another zombie on top of another staircase. He heard the shot, so now he's coming at you, arms out in front, ready to grab you. He's faster than you expected, and because he moves around a lot, Leon misses two shots.

Shit. The zombie grabs you by your shoulders, and your eyes widen, but you take your knife and shove it into its chest, pushing it to stumble backwards. Leon shoots him and hits him good this time, and you carefully take your knife back from its body.

Reaching for your forehead, you breathe in and out heavily. "Jesus Christ."

That was too close. If you didn't have that knife, he would've bitten you. Goddamn.

"I'm sorry." Leon says, and you can see the guilt on his face.

And he's not even trying to manipulate you here. It's real. He finds you too valuable to kill, and the moment he decided he was going to keep you by his side, he knew that equaled protecting you from the creatures in this hellhole as well.

You shake your head. "Don't be. It's fine. Let's go, alright?" You nearly got your head bit off, yet you don't want to make him feel bad. He's doing his best, protecting you in a way you probably don't even deserve. You're thankful to have him with you.

Behind a small corner is the Men's Locker Room, as you read on the sign.

It's a weird sight. The path to what seems to be the showers is blocked by a ruptured steam tank. You'd need something like a valve to fix that, but of course, it's not in here. Leon moves on to the lockers near the door, you go for the ones near the steam. The one on the right has a combination lock of three letters on it, so that's no use. You open the one on the left, but jump back with widened eyes again as soon as a zombie falls from the locker face first onto the tiled floor.

You shriek out of surprise and fear. "Fuck! I'm so sick of this shit." You mutter to yourself in annoyance. God, the jump scares are by far the absolute worst.

You sit down on the bench for a second, realizing the zombie's not getting up. A frown forms on your face the moment you hear some electronic noises behind you, so you turn around. Leon's standing there, bottom lip in between his teeth, pushing some buttons on whatever the hell it is he's holding.

"It's a portable safe, apparently." He tells you without looking up, then smiling just a tiny bit when he gets the combination right, a funny tune playing. The device opens up, and he reaches inside with his fingers, only to find one of the spare parts from the keypad in the Safety Deposit Room.

Rolling your eyes, you let out a sigh. "Damn. I was hoping to get the keycard for the shotgun."

"You're really that keen on getting Matilda, huh?"

"A little. I'm more keen on you getting that shotgun. Think about how easily we'll pop their heads with that."

"Fair point." He agrees, putting the safe back where he found it, since it's useless now anyways. "C'mon. Let's go up to the third floor."

You get up from the bench, and he makes a grabby hand at you, waiting for you to take his.

Yeah. The butterflies in your stomach whenever you hold hands remind you that you're, at the very least, still alive.

He's so casual yet so passionate about keeping you close to him. All he has to do is look at you, and you already begin to feel warm inside. God, it's almost pathetic.

And he's just a little bit intimidating. You feel like, despite your number one goal to make it out of here alive, you're also kind of trying to impress him.

Jogging up the stairs to the third floor, you pass the chandelier you keep hearing, arriving at the top of the staircase. There's some handgun ammo on a cardboard box. In the distance, you can see a single locker as well as some debris on the floor, as well as a shadow of a person on the wall.

The debris is from a wall someone or something busted through, and you find it to be the weirdest thing in the station so far.

You know, aside from all the medallions, zombies and pools of blood everywhere.

The shadow on the wall is from a much smaller statuette that's standing on the desk, just in front of a lamp. On the desk, beside a radio, you find a blue, fancy-looking key in the form of a spade.

"I saw a spade door when we were in the Main Hall. That's what the key must be for."

"There was also a clover door in the west hallway, so that should still be around here somewhere." He adds, and you agree, making your way to the wooden door on the left side of the desk.

You feel a lot more comfortable in a hallway on the third floor, because at least there's no zombies banging and breaking the windows, threatening to come in and bite you. The two of you walk normally, then gasp and stop dead in your tracks the moment something moves past the window on the outside.

Nope. No. Zombies can't climb. Please say they can't climb. If they can, that's it. You're done. Out. Gone. Done for.

There's some weird noises you can't quite place before you hear what sounds like glass breaking, and you and Leon make eye contact. "... what the fuck was that?"

He presses his lips together. "I don't... I don't even wanna know."

What a pair you two make. You're both incredibly done with all of this, Leon being tired and frustrated and you just getting annoyed and angry all the time.

"Let's just keep moving." You sigh, walking all the way to the end of the hallway. You find a note on top of another cardboard box, and start reading it out loud. "'To any survivors. Consider this a gift for anyone still unfortunate enough to be alive. Keep your eyes peeled for those creepy fucks that look like they were skinned alive— "lickers," we call 'em. They're blind as bats, but their hearing more than makes up for that. So long as you don't run around like a total idiot, guns-a-blazing, you should be able to slip right by them... probably. Either way, make like my grandma and creep around as slow as possible around 'em, yeah? Anyway, not that I wanna go, but duty calls. That, and I've got a friend to avenge.' Signed, a guy named David."

"So we probably just saw one of those, quote on quote, "creepy fucks", outside the window." Leon remarks, and you nod.

"Yep." You only say, not looking away from the note. By the way it's written, you get a feeling you would've gotten along with David. This note sounds like something you would write in a situation like this.

I hope you got to avenge your friend, David.

The thought leaves you when Leon pulls you along with him to open the wooden door and enter a new room. It's filled with filth, trash, and debris. You can actually see the dust floating around in the air, as well as some creepy fucking doll in the corner. On a cupboard, there's some more gunpowder, which you stash safely in your hip pouch, but goddamn you need more space with all the items you've been collecting. There's also some wooden boards there, which is ideal for all the windows on the bottom level to keep the zombies out.

You walk past the corner, and even Leon jumps a little when a zombie hanging from the ceiling with his mouth open and hands bloody seems to fall, but doesn't.

Your heart is fucking pounding again.

Thankfully enough, it doesn't seem like he's waking up. You frown, wondering how the hell he even got there in the first place, all while walking past him slowly.

"That's a statue with a medallion." Leon points out, and he's right. The statue behind the bars is unreachable, though, because you need to get through the explosive barricade first.

You gasp all of a sudden. "Yes!"

"What?"

"Another pouchy! I needed more space."

He raises his brows at your excitement, but you're right to be, really. His nice-looking suit doesn't exactly have many pockets — he makes a mental note to ask Marvin about that later — so all the extra space to take more items with you is very welcome.

There's some guy's scribblings next to where the pouch is, and as he reads, he understands how all the bodies got behind the bars, and why the hell there's even an explosive barricade in the first place. He hands the note to you, and the frown on your face just gets bigger and bigger as you continue reading.

"The fuck is wrong with this guy?"

"As I said before, I don't wanna know. What I do wanna know is where we can get a detonator. That's our ticket to the medallion in there."

You hum. "Maybe on the east side somewhere? Or one of the rooms we couldn't get into down on the first floor?"

Leon shrugs his shoulders. He begins to walk past the left wall, finding some more bullets in the cupboard there. "Probably. Either way, we should keep going. C'mon."

He leads the way, and you follow him through another wooden door, but not without carefully walking past the zombie hanging from the ceiling.

The light pretty much blinds you once again. As your eyes get used to the sudden brightness, you realize you're standing in a library. A big one, as it has two floors.

There's many things going on. Bookcases on the left, which seem to be movable, as well as a ladder, a female zombie walking around and another zombie eating away at some guy's ass on the floor.

You blink a few times before looking over to the right, where you've got the stairs, another door, two officers out on the floor and one fat guy sitting by the exit.

And you jump again. For the first time, it's not because of a zombie or a licker, but because of the cracking of the radio that's on your shoulder. "It's Marvin. I need you two back here ASAP."

"Are you guys okay?"

"We've got something to show you. It's important."

"Okay, we'll be right there."

After you finish your sentence, Leon aims at the zombie feasting on the ground, and he gets his head to explode after just one shot. He moves on to the female zombie, and the luck of the damn universe must be on your side for once, because he does the same thing to her. She drops to the floor instantly.

You grin. "That's one hell of a bull's eye."

"Had to make up for nearly getting you eaten somehow, right?" He replies with a smug smile on his face, and you swear the moment he's ever gonna wink at you or flirt with you even more, it'll be the cause of your death.

"Indeed. Apology accepted."

He snickers at your reply. "I'm glad."

Moving down the stairs rather than the ladder, you end up at another door, but before going through it, you see a knife near the hand of a corpse lying face flat on the floor. You get quicker at snatching things away, or maybe you just think you are, but either way, you manage to do so successfully.

Leon is pleasantly surprised. There's maps of the upper floors of the station as well as the unicorn statue where you two can finally get the first medallion. That must mean you're in the Lounge, as Elliot said.

"The combination for it should be in the notebook. Can you check it?" He asks, and you take it out of your pocket, flicking to the right page.

"Unicorn statue... fish, scorpion, vase."

He puts said symbols in the right order, and you hear a clicking sound, the medallion ready for grabs. He takes it, feeling it to be quite heavy in his hands for something relatively small.

"Nice. One down, two to go. Time to head back to Marvin and Elliot."

He nods at your statement. Before heading back, he wants to check the door opposite of the statue, but it's locked. He does make sure to take the gunpowder with him, though.

You two pass through the library together, seeing a red book on the table, and holy shit, it's the same book from the commemorative photo — whatever the hell that means.

It's something.

At this point, you're fully convinced that every weird thing you find in this station serves some kind of purpose, so you're gonna take every damn thing with you.

The fat guy still hasn't moved, and Leon uses the spade key to unlock the door. You realize that you're back in the Main Hall, and you want to cry out from relief.

You just went through half of the R.P.D. and you're still alive, unscathed. You got a shitload of stuff and a medallion.

Yes. This is good.

On the right side of the door, Leon makes sure to take the box of ammo that's casually sitting on a couch. He's certainly feeling it, with all the bullets that he's got right now, alongside a pretty girl with a nice sense of humor — or maybe it's just you trying to cope with all of this — he actually feels like a million bucks.

As you walk back to the grand staircases, you spot the second statue. Lion.

Before he can ask, you get out the notebook. "It's lion, leaf, bird."

"Atta girl." He says while picking the right order, getting the second medallion in his hands in a matter of seconds.

"Two down, one to go."

Chapter 3: Pretty Girls Make Choppers Crash

Summary:

A new face shows up just outside of the station.

Chapter Text

Both of you turn to the staircase, walking down to the two familiar officers sitting by a computer.

They both look terrible. They're getting pale, Marvin is wincing and hissing in pain, his hand never leaving that nasty wound. Elliot's blinking erratically. He can't seem to sit still, and you just know that you have to hurry up.

Leon begins to insert the two medallions you found, opening up what does indeed seem to be a secret passageway. "Looks like you were right." Marvin tells his colleague, who nods.

"Yeah, but it's not open yet. How did it go?" He asks the two of you.

Well, he's really just asking you. Leon hasn't said anything else to the pair of men except for his name, and for some reason he only seems to talk to you, preferably when you're alone.

From your back pocket, you grab the three maps you've gathered, spreading them out on the table. "It was okay. We started at the Reception, through the west hallway, which has a blockade over here, found this map in the Operations Room, jumped through a broken window, went into the Safety Deposit Room, then the West Office, then the Darkroom. Up the stairs, into the Men's Locker Room, up the stairs again, through the West Storage Room, into the Library, down the stairs, into the Lounge where we got the first medallion and these two maps. Got the second medallion at the top of the stairs here, so we just need to get the last one." You take a deep breath after you're done. "How long were we gone for?"

"About twenty minutes." Marvin responds, tapping on the keyboard. "Here's what I wanted to show you. Take a look."

Both you and Leon bring your attention to the camera footage you're seeing on the screen. Outside a gate, in what looks like the courtyard, stands a girl with a red jacket and a ponytail. "You know her?"

You shake your head. You're pretty far away from home, so the chances of you knowing her were slim to none anyways. "I don't. You?"

Your handsome companion mimicks your actions. "Never seen her before."

"Well, she looks very much alive. Could be another survivor?"

Marvin agrees, gesturing to the east side of the station. "Probably. You can get to that courtyard through the second floor... east side."

While you're not really looking forward to going back to the east side, since that's pretty much where all the horror began and Elliot got bit, there's still several crucial items you're missing, and they should be on the east side as you've explored nearly the whole west side already.

You wanted to tell yourself that now is not the time to get scared, but jokes on you, because you're about to lose your fucking mind out of fear.

Leon is certainly more interested in going to the east side now. If there's another survivor, he needs to know what their business is, why they're here, and how the hell they survived. Anyone could be a threat.

He doesn't know how much time Marvin and Elliot have left before they turn. They've certainly been useful to the two of you so far, and he intends on getting out of the station before they become the brainless monsters everyone else in the R.P.D. already is.

"We should go." He tells you, and you nod. You're actually pretty excited to talk to a new, alive person.

Which is really fucking depressing if you think about it.

Moving a strand of hair behind your ear, you stretch your arms and krack your knuckles before jogging off with Leon. You take a right, and on the second floor of the east side, there's a single door that leads to the Waiting Room.

There's a green herb on the coffee table that you pick up. Leon walks around the desk, seeing a safe well hidden under it. But since he doesn't know the code, it's not of any use to him right now.

The second wooden door has the now familiar blue spade on it, so you grab the key and twist it in the lock. You begin to wonder how many more doors you're gonna have to open with this key.

Leon steps out first again, and he looks to the left of the corridor, where he sees some wooden boards. There's a shutter near it, but there seems to be no way to open it. He's gonna need something like a crank for it.

You're more focused on the other door that you see in front of you, carefully pushing it open with your knife in hand.

Yeah. You're probably putting too much faith in that thing.

For some reason, the first thing your eyes dart to is the keycard sitting on the small table. "Oh, yes! Leon!" You whisper-yell, and he peeks his head around the corner, wanting to tell you that you need to stay close to him, until he sees what you're making a fuss about. "Shotgun!"

He has to refrain himself from laughing at you with that victorious look on your face. "Good job."

He takes it from you, shoving it into his pocket until his eyes land on the statue on the other side of the room. It's the same one from the commemorative photo he developed in the Darkroom. You're seeing the same thing, so you take it out, holding it up.

"Do you have that red book with you?"

"Yeah. I was gonna leave it in the Main Hall, but..." You say while handing the piece of plastic to him. He takes it from you, and the arm of the king is on the table next to it, so he puts the book in the hand and then inserts the arm into the statue itself.

"What if you just activated a death trap?"

"... then I'll use you as a human shield." He replies without looking for you in the most monotone voice he's used so far.

Your mouth falls open. "What did I do to deserve that?"

"You just went into this room without telling me, not knowing what was gonna be inside. You feel the need to steal Matilda from me—"

"Weird name for a gun. Really."

"—and you interrupt me when I'm talking."

"Well, I..." You've got no idea what to say, and frankly you don't really care either, or you didn't until you saw the faintest hint of a smirk on his face.

"What was that?"

"Just shut up."

"We both know you don't mean that."

Something happens. The arm moves a tiny bit and the other one turns, the hand opening up, the scepter up for grabs.

Leon picks it up, and on instinct, he takes the red jewel out of it, because he doubts the scepter actually serves a purpose.

You want to ask him about it, but the sound of a helicopter nearing gains your attention. "Do you hear that too or am I actually losing it?"

He begins to frown as he listens to the noise. Grabbing your hand, he starts to walk out of the room, checking the corner, all while the sounds get louder and louder.

There's a red sign that says 'exit', so that must be the way to the courtyard. A bright light flicks past the door window within a mere second, and you grab Leon the moment the chopper crashes and the floor begins to shake.

The two of you give one another a weird look before getting to the door underneath the sign, and it leads to the outside. It's still pouring with rain, and you actually welcome the fresh air, but every thought you were having is interrupted by the chopper in front of you.

Because it's not where choppers are supposed to be.

It just flew right through the wall of the hallway, still stuck in there, and you wonder how the fuck that happened.

Whoever was flying that is all kinds of dead now. Then again, so is nearly everyone in this station, so it's more than fitting.

Wow, you are losing it.

Leon holds up the flashlight to get a better view of it, until someone calls for you. "Hey! Hello!? Is anybody up there!?"

He looks over to where the voice is coming from, though he doesn't move, because you already do. "Yeah! We'll be right there!"

"Okay!"

You're so glad. The girl survivor is still here, and she's human. She seems to be around the same age. Running down the stairs, you move to greet her at the fence. "Hi."

"Hi. I'm Claire. Redfield." She says, so you introduce yourself as well as Leon to her. "Nice to meet you. You guys don't strike me as cops, though."

A brief chuckle leaves your mouth. "No, we're not. Well, I'm not, I'm still in college, but he is. Today was supposed to be his first day, but he's here instead."

"Not how I pictured starting my career." Leon remarks, and Claire smiles apologetically at his comment.

"Is there anyone inside?"

"Yeah. But everybody's turned." You reply, and seeing her face falter instantly is just one more punch to the gut.

She shakes her head. "Shit. It's the same out here too, I think. You guys are the first alive people I've come across. Do you have a key, maybe?"

You don't, and neither does Leon. Marvin and Elliot probably don't have one either, otherwise you're sure they would've given it to you before you headed out here.

"No, sorry. I wish we did."

While you're busy doing all the talking with Claire, Leon just looks at her. He doesn't think she knows anything he doesn't, but she's lucky to be on the other side of the fence. Had she been on this side, he would've found a way to kill her and cover it up so that you wouldn't know, because he doesn't trust her one bit.

Who knows. Maybe you'll run into one another again later.

Just after you finish your sentence, the chopper catches on fire with a loud explosion. "Damnit. That's not good."

'Not good' is actually a severe understatement. The zombies behind Claire, both the ones in the courtyard and behind the fence, are getting up again due to all the noise, which means she needs to get going if she doesn't want to become their late night snack.

She whips out a gun out of nowhere. "You should go, Claire."

"Don't worry about me. You guys take care of yourselves."

The zombies behind the fence are pushing at it so hard that they're gonna break through it soon. "If you manage to get into the station, there's a way out of here through the tunnel under the goddess statue in the Main Hall. You can't miss it. Be careful!" You yell as she runs off, and she nods, showing that she heard it.

You couldn't imagine being in her place. She's on her own, and from what you know, the only way out is through the passageway in the station.

But you've got faith in her. She doesn't seem like the helpless, damsel in distress type.

Your mood shifts. Are you helpless?

Not really, right? You defended yourself with your knife, and...

Well, that's it, really.

While you're thinking about all that nonsense, Leon takes the wooden boards near the fence, the handgun ammo casually lying around as well as the red bolt cutter next to the chained door.

All these things are tough to carry, and he tells himself to drop some things as soon as he gets back to a safe room.

He uses the bolt cutter to break the chain on the doorknob and pushes it open, with you following after him. You recognize the hall, seeing that this is where you started out and saved Elliot from getting eaten alive.

A zombie busts through the window, and instead of shooting it, you waste no time in getting past it quickly, using the bolt cutter to cut through the chain on another door as well.

It opens to a much bigger room. "I think this is the East Office."

There's a green herb on the coffee table in between two blue sofas, so you grab it quickly, then seeing a zombie in police uniform on the other side of the room slowly making its way towards you.

Leon quickly boards up one of the windows when you find a blue thing on a nearby desk scattered with books. "'Flash grenade'." You read out loud, and your handsome friend turns his head to you, taking it out of your hand and putting it in his belt.

"What—"

"Not debatable."

"Leon!" You call out his name in annoyance, and he reloads his gun.

"Doll!" He calls you, mimicking your tone with sarcasm dripping from his tongue. "If you could get out of the way, I have to shoot the guy behind you."

As offended as you are, it's not worth dying over, so you do as he tells you to, and he nails the headshots, the zombie in uniform eventually falling down onto the floor before he can catch up to either of you.

He looks all too smug about the whole situation, so you just explore the room further now that the threat has been put down. There's some gunpowder on a desk, as well as a fuse on the other side. Leon finds a red valve in the small office, as well as some high-grade gunpowder on a cupboard.

"That all?"

"I think so. Let's go." He takes the chair blocking the door and puts it down as quietly as possible to avoid gaining any attention.

And he does a solid job at it, you're willing to admit that much. You move out of the white doors, moving to the left, where you put the fuse you just found in the fuse box, and the shutter opens all the way, so you can finally move through it again now.

Every time you get back to the Main Hall, you feel a sense of relief. It's your one safe place in this complete hellhole.

Walking around the curtains, you see Marvin wincing and hissing in pain, but he seems to be asleep. Elliot just sits there, staring in front of him, but he just nods at you, showing that he's still doing somewhat fine.

No fucking around anymore. It's time you get that third medallion, so you can get the four of you the hell out of here.

That's the one thing that drives you right now. Getting Leon, Marvin, Elliot and yourself to safety.

Gripping your knife, your facial expression grows harder, colder. "There's one more chained door in the Operations Room. The detonator has to be there, right?"

Leon bites his lip. "It should be. We've covered every room we were able to get into."

"Alright. Let's go to that room, then get the shotgun, move up to get the medallion and get the fuck out of here."

He agrees with your plan. "Yes, ma'am."

The two of you glance at the last officers alive before moving on, back to the creepy hallway with all the open windows.

Oh, shit.

There's one dropping inside from the first open window, and Leon gets a good shot, making its head explode in an instant. You board up the window to prevent any more from getting in, thinking you're safe now, but that's a grave mistake.

As you look around the corner, you get scared shitless as another zombie sees you and grabs you, and for some reason you stab it in the eye instead of the chest.

It's disgusting, but you repeat the motion for the other eye, yanking the knife out again and pushing it away from you. Leon gets a few shots in and gets it to drop to the floor. You use the last wood you have to board up this window, then moving on to thankfully enough find the female zombie standing with its back to you, and you just walk past it as silently as humanly possible.

You make it to the Operations Room, but you've got no time to breathe, because the zombie has heard you now, and it's about to burst into the room. Leon uses the bolt cutter another time to open up the room.

It appears to be a storage room, and on a workshop desk you find some kind of electronic gadget. As he turns it around, Leon sighs. "It's a detonator, but without a battery, it's useless."

"Fuck." You exclaim in frustration. Goddamn, where the fuck were you supposed to find a battery?

Then you remember that there's a part of the second floor you haven't explored yet because of the steam in the Men's Locker Room, so there's gotta be something over there. On the whiteboard behind you stands the code for the dial lock in said room as well, so you're good to go.

You take the green herb, as well as the flash grenade lying on top of a box, but decide to leave the wooden boards behind, because you just don't have any space left right now.

Leon unlocks the door in front of you, because the other door needs a heart key which you do not have, and you end up right in a familiar corridor again.

"Let's go get that shotgun." You tell him, quickly moving into the Safety Deposit Room for the last time, because the shotgun is the last thing you still need to collect here.

You put the keycard in and the firearm is now open for the taking. Paired with the shotgun shells you've already collected and the ones in here, you feel pretty good, because it's quite a lot.

While you're leaving the room, Leon loads it up, putting four shotgun bullets inside of it and getting it ready for use. He wants to give you Matilda, but you wave with your hand.

"Give it to me after we get that medallion. I'm good with my knife for now."

And he's content with doing that, so he puts it back in his holster, and you two begin to pick up the speed to get upstairs. Up the stairs, you enter the Men's Locker Room.

You and Leon are really growing to work as a team, an unspoken agreement of both doing certain things. While he's putting in the valve, you're busy spelling out 'CAP' on the dial lock, and it opens. You smile triumphantly at the small box of shotgun shells, which you hold up in front of your face. He takes the bullets from you, getting them ready to use for the moment he needs to reload.

Both of you are geared up and everything, so you start moving to the showers. The water's still running, and you use the awfully cold water to clean up your hands.

For a moment, you think Leon might be laughing at you, but instead, he comes up behind you and does the same thing. "You okay?"

His voice is lower than usual, and he's so close to your face. Blue eyes boring right into yours while he waits for you to answer.

"I've been better. But I'm alive, so..." You just shrug, not knowing what else to add. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you okay?"

He didn't expect that question. As pathetic and cliche as it might be, he genuinely can't remember the last time someone's asked him that.

Your pretty face is staring back at him with the sweetest eyes he's ever seen, and it does something to him he can't explain.

It's unbelievable how easily you're getting to him. If there's one thing he's learned, it's that you're one hurricane of a being, with all your anger and frustration and determination, but you're also the kindest and most caring person he's come across in God knows how long.

"You don't need to worry about me."

He looks away from you, almost like you're getting too close to him mentally, but you won't have it. "Of course I do."

"Why?"

His question is soft and short, and you think about the right way to put it. "We're a team now. It's not just you taking care of me, it goes both ways. That's the only way we'll get out of here. Besides... I've always wanted a partner in crime."

That makes him smile. "I'm not sure if asking a police officer to be your partner in crime is a smart thing to do."

"Never said I was smart."

He chuckles. "So we're Bonnie and Clyde, then?"

You gasp at his comment. "Yes. Yes! We are. I like you."

The two of you laugh, and it's the best you've felt so far tonight. It feels so genuine, and your heart flutters.

Leon feels the same, but then he has to push away the sudden guilt of lying to you about who he is and what he's come here to do. Shit. He really needs to leave the station to get that G-sample somehow.

And so his focus shifts back to getting the third medallion. "Okay then, Bonnie. Let's go."

With clean hands, you move on to the room next to the showers, where a corpse that was sitting on a bench falls over to the floor, onto his side.

Leon gets Matilda out, but apparently he doesn't have to use it. The body doesn't move, so you think you're good for now. There's some gunpowder in one of the lockers, but that's about it, so you walk over to the door at the end, which leads to a corridor you haven't seen before yet.

A lot of the windows are broken. Rain is pouring in from the outside, the wind making you shiver. There's a few bodies on the floor as well, some splatters of blood on the floor and the wall, even on the vending machine on your left. On the small couch, you spot some more shotgun shells, handing them over to Leon.

He accepts them and begins to take a step forward, but holy shit — there's sudden movement across from you.

A type of creature you haven't seen before is snatching a body to where it's perched on the ceiling with its large—is that a tongue?

Fuck. Nope. This is it, you're done. Finito.

You suddenly remember that note about lickers. They're completely blind, it's their hearing that they rely on. You touch Leon's arm and gesture for him to stay silent, while you carefully take a first step in the creature's direction.

There's a door to the left. All you have to do is reach it, but opening and closing it will make a sound.

So be it.

When you reach said door, the licker is right above you, and you can hear the way it's making these weird sounds you can't quite place, but you keep your breathing and walking steady.

Twisting the doorknob, you push it open, and Leon has his hand on the shotgun, just in case.

He comes in too and closes the door behind you, and you release the breath you were holding. "Christ."

"I hope that's the only one around." He says, and you nod, though that's probably too optimistic to be real.

You take the map out of your pocket. "If my assumptions are correct — and they are — we're in the... S.T.A.R.S. Office right now."

He only hums in response, moving into the smaller office near the door, from which he emerges with a battery in hand. "Bingo."

"That is the nicest gun I've ever seen in my life." You say, and he frowns, walking up to you from behind to check whatever it is you're looking at. He's tempted to put his head on your shoulder, but doesn't.

The pistol you're looking at is a silver Magnum, and to be fair, it does look pretty nice. The armory is electronically locked, and it appears you need to insert a USB dongle key for it to open, but you don't have said key, so you tell yourself to forget about the firearm.

The two of you do some more exploring in the office. There's a first aid spray, some high-grade gunpowder, more shotgun shells and another flash grenade. The fact that you're with two really helps in terms of taking items, because you can both carry quite a bit.

It's time to leave the office, and Leon carefully checks outside the door if there's any sign of the licker. When there isn't, he gestures for you to come with him, walking to the other end of the corridor. He thought the licker would still be here, and he was right — which you understand the moment you pass the corner.

It's right there, scaling the wall on your left, but it doesn't seem to notice you're there. By walking carefully, you slip right past him, and Leon unlocks the door at the end of the way, pushing it open.

Not knowing whether it was the sound of the lock or the door, the licker is alerted and runs at you, and you manage to get through the door, but not unscathed.

There's now a nasty cut on your upper arm, and you hiss in pain. You're just grateful it was a licker and not a zombie.

Leon uses the first aid spray he just collected on your arm, and it instantly feels a bit better. "Thank you."

"Welcome. C'mon, we gotta get that last medallion."

It's not until then you realize you're back in the Lounge. That actually makes complete sense. You've really got a good image of the layout of the station now.

So it's only natural that you and Leon move into the library, walking up the stairs, ending back up in the West Storage Room.

He connects the battery with the detonator, and it turns on, so he puts it on the C4 and presses the button. While the countdown starts, he takes you by the wrist and both of you hide from the explosion behind the walls.

After ten seconds, you see a flash of light and smoke, hearing a loud bang, and you know it's safe to go get the medallion now. Whipping out the notebook, you see that the combination is woman, bow, snake. While you're busy dusting off the inscriptions, Leon sees the zombie that was previously hanging from the ceiling now up and at it again. He gives it a few headshots through the bars, and it falls to the floor.

You get the third medallion, holding it up. "Alright. Let's get back to the Main Hall."

He steps over the bodies and intends to walk back to the library when a licker jumps right out of the ceiling, dropping onto the floor in front of him. He's lucky to have quick reflexes, because the first thing he does is whip out his shotgun and empty it entirely on the licker. He nearly gets hurt, but manages.

The licker and the zombie are out now, so you really want to go. A cabinet has toppled over because of the explosion, so you help Leon pull it back up, because it's blocking the way back to the library.

After you're done with that, you literally run down the stairs, back into the Main Hall, down the grand staircase, putting the third and final medallion in, activating the goddess statue.

It clears a path. Leon pushes open the squeaky door, using his flashlight to show there is indeed a small staircase leading God knows where.

Away, hopefully.

"That's it. Our way out." He says, and you turn around, gently waking Marvin up as you kneel down in front of him. Elliot still looks somewhat awake.

"It's time to go. We got the passage open."

He's a little disoriented, but waves his hand. "No. Save yourselves. You should go."

"No, just come with us—"

He holds up his gun all of a sudden, startling you, Leon already taking a step forward to protect you. "I tried, I really did. Stopping it is just not possible. It's too late. We can't let this thing spread any more than it already has."

"But we can't just leave you here, I won't—"

"You will."

"I'll do everything I can to get you to a hospital, if you would just—"

"No."

And a tear escapes your eye. You turn your head to the other officer. "Elliot?"

The man shakes his head with a pitiful smile. "There's no hope for us, girl. We're not gonna make it, no matter what you try. He's right. You two should go. Get to safety, forget about this city."

Tears are just silently streaming down your cheeks now. Your heart aches for them. How the hell could you leave them behind? You can't do it. You can't just abandon them.

What hurts the most is the way they're looking at you like you're gonna be in more pain than they are in right now.

"I can't just leave you guys here."

"You can. You have to. Take this." Marvin tells you before giving you his handgun. "Use it. Stay alive. Promise to me that you will."

You try to swallow to make the pain in your throat disappear. "I... I promise."

"Go down there with Leon. You can do it, I know you can, I have faith in the both of you. Whatever's down there... give 'em hell."

Taking the pistol from him, you nod, and he pulls you in for a hug. Elliot does as well, after which you stand up. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault." He says. Behind you, you feel Leon softly guiding you down the stairs.

You try to think of something else to say, but you can't. Marvin and Elliot disappear from your sight, and you walk down the stairs, only for your legs to nearly give out. Leon catches you in time.

"We just left them. Oh my God, I just left them there to die—" Yeah. You're completely breaking down, hyperventilating and crying and shaking.

Leon sees it and it hurts him to see you like this. It physically hurts him. "Hey, look at me. It's okay. Look at me. Keep your eyes on mine, yeah?"

And you look straight into his icy blues. "I—I—"

"We're okay. It's a safe room, and we're getting out of here. It's all good." His words as well as the tone he says it with get you to calm down a bit.

After you've cried out all your tears and steadied your breath, you feel numb. "We left them there to turn into zombies. We just left them there like it was nothing."

"We had to. No one would've been able to help them, not that fast." He sighs, and you just stand there, eyelids moving slower than usual when you blink.

He sits on one knee in front of you, putting his hand on your shoulder. His eyes look straight into yours, and you feel terrible. "I'm sorry. I usually only have a few mental breakdowns a year, my next one wasn't scheduled for a while."

He chuckles at your words. "It's okay." Using the handkerchief he had in his pocket, he wipes off your tears as well as the bits of mascara that were sitting underneath your eyes and on your cheeks.

It's the first time that night that he questions Umbrella's intentions.

The people turning into zombies were infected with the T-virus, but he needs to get a sample of G. What does that virus even do? Why is it so important?

He shrugs it off and turns his attention back to you, sitting in this tiny room with him.

Chapter 4: One-Eyed Monsters Wearing Lab Coats

Summary:

A certain tension builds up between you and Leon while exploring a new area.

Chapter Text

In the Secret Room, you find several things. It's bright inside, thankfully, and it has some shotgun shells and gunpowder on the desk across from you. There's also a model of the station on a cupboard.

That's when you realize the passage behind you is closed. There's a red slot by the stairs, so unless you find a proper handle for it, you won't be able to go back to the station.

Damn.

You think about the things Leon said about leaving Marvin and Elliot behind, and deep down, you know he's right.

Why are you acting like this? You and Leon are lucky to even be alive. You should be grateful. How the hell can you even sit around, crying over the fact that you left behind two men you knew for barely two hours.

But it still hurts your soul, and you genuinely feel like you're losing it.

For now, you try your best to pull yourself together. You found the three medallions, you got into the underground passageway. You're close to getting out. You've got to be.

Leon's reloaded both Matilda and the shotgun, and you remember that you still have Marvin's gun in your hand. He gave it to you, so you'll use it to keep your promise to him.

Stay alive.

"It's similar to mine, but you don't have the high-capacity clip mag, so you can use twelve bullets before you have to reload. Over here, you can press the magazine release, it'll drop out, so you take it and insert the fully loaded one like this until you hear an audible click. Pull back the slide and you're good to go. You get better at it the more you practice. Now try it out."

He says it all within one breath, as if he's reciting a monologue from the back of his head, and you only respond after a few seconds of silence, because you gotta process everything he's just said.

"Okay." You do it the way he explained, finding it a bit harder than it looks, because it takes you several seconds and Leon does it in just one.

"Nice. It'll become easier the more you do it. Ditto for aiming, but that's something you need to try out for yourself. Keep in mind that when you're aiming, you don't lean backwards, instead tilt a little forward. When you're aiming and shooting, you gotta have a good hold on that gun, like you're about to crush it, but not so much that you get tremors. Practice your stance."

Jesus, it's like he was a teacher in his past life. You hold the gun up in front of you, feeling a bit weird standing around like this, but that embarrassment is quickly replaced by a different feeling the moment Leon comes up to you from behind, putting his hands on your hips.

"Just a bit more forward." He almost whispers, and you swear he's not just pushing you forward with his hands, but with his own hips as well.

Is it bad to want to fuck someone in the middle of a zombie apocalypse?

Because you do. Badly.

From the first minute you saw him, you thought he was handsome. Incredibly good-looking, clearly intelligent, with a sexy voice, a nice haircut — you make a mental note to ask him what shampoo he uses if you manage to make it out of here alive — and the damn pet names, too. You never thought you were into being called something as corny as Princess or Doll, yet the moment he does it, you're going fucking feral. With his natural sarcasm and nice suit.

Maybe he would use that red tie to tie you up.

Okay. No. Stop right there. You've got other priorities right now, such as getting the fuck out of here. Once you do that, and take the longest shower of your life, maybe he'll spend some... overtime with you.

"Like this?"

He nods, humming in your ear. "Good. As much as I like being in here with you, we should get going."

You instantly miss feeling his hands on you.

Putting your newly acquired gun in your holster, you follow him into the elevator. He clicks the button, and you feel it go down, stopping just about five seconds later at a completely dark staircase.

Halfway down, there's a path to the left, but you decide to go all the way to the bottom floor first. The door there is locked, and Leon eyes an interesting looking Special Weapons Case. He doesn't have the key for it that seems to be needed, so he shoots it twice, and the glass breaks.

You jump, hissing at him. "Jesus, a little warning next time? I could've killed you."

"Oh yeah? How?" He asks without looking up, because he's busy combining Matilda with the long barrel that was in the box.

"Leon, I literally have a grenade in my hand. All I have to do is take the pin and throw it at you."

He looks up at the mention of it, putting his gun back. He's got no idea where the hell you managed to get a grenade from. "Give me that."

"Why? No, c'mon, you already nicked my flash-bang."

"I'm not trusting you with a grenade, Doll. Seriously."

"I'm not a doll. I'm not a kid either, but you sure as shit keep treating me like one."

"You're pretty enough to be a doll. How old are you, anyways?"

"Nineteen." You tell him, and his face remains completely neutral for a moment before he raises his brow.

"Well, guess what? I'm older. Therefore I get to have it."

"Girls mature faster than boys." You tell him with your chin up and arms crossed. "Besides, have you looked in the mirror? You don't exactly look like you're over a decade older than me, but you're certainly acting like it."

"Yes, girls do mature faster than boys — except I'm a grown man. I'm twenty-three, more mature and trained. Can't say the same about you for any of those things."

Oh yeah. You're really offended now. "Screw you, Leon. We're in the middle of an apocalypse, I'm stressed out of my mind. I want something to defend myself with."

"You've got a knife and a gun."

"Something easy!"

He rolls his eyes. "Alright. Fine. You get the flash grenade, I'll take the actual grenade."

You're still pissed off, letting your anger get the better of you, but you take the blue item from him regardless. "Asshole. This is not what I meant when I said I was into older men."

Although you murmur that last sentence to yourself under your breath, Leon still hears it, and his eyes widen unconsciously. His overactive imagination imagines your body looped with some attractive older man, sweat shining on your face, lips red and plump from kissing as you call out Daddy and suddenly that older man's body is replaced with his own and he—he's really got to stop himself right there.

"Quit it." He's not sure whether he's telling you or himself.

Both, really.

"You know what? No." You tell him after putting the blue item on your belt. "I want you to treat me like your equal."

As much as he's grown to like you in such a short span of time, you might not want to try pushing him on this.

"Listen to me." He speaks up, inhaling sharply. "If you ever get the feeling I don't see you as my equal, you're wrong. I do. You're undoubtedly a better person than I am. But you have to understand that everything I'm doing here is to protect you, because the last thing I want right now is to have your death on my conscience, knowing that I could have protected you."

As he said his words, his voice became a little louder, and it's the first time he's slightly raised his voice at you. With that, and the way he's standing close to you, towering over you...

Great. Now you feel guilty. But you still stand your ground.

"And what about you?" You ask him, and he furrows his eyebrows.

"What do you mean?"

"What am I gonna do if you die, huh? How are you so sure nothing will happen to you?"

He has to hold back a laugh when he thinks about how ridiculous your accusation is, considering he's a top agent. But he can't say that to you, because you think he's just a rookie cop.

Shaking off those thoughts, he realizes how you just want to protect him. The same way he wants to protect you.

When he doesn't answer, you sigh, trying to just end the conversation and get going. You're not feeling like arguing. "You protect me and I protect you."

"Partners in crime."

You grin a little. "Bonnie and Clyde."

"They were lovers, though. And they died."

"We were having a moment here, and here you are, ruining it with your pessimistic ass."

"I'm realistic, Doll."

"Can't you give me some other nickname?"

"Like what? Princess?"

"You've called me that already."

"I sure have, Pumpkin."

"Pumpkin? Really?"

"Would you prefer Honey? Baby? Gorgeous? Sugar? Mommy?"

He's fucking smirking now, looking down at you like he's gonna do something sinful to you right here, right now if you don't do anything.

You shake your head, waving with your hands, beginning to walk up the stairs again. "Oh, Jesus. That's it. I'm leaving."

You're mainly leaving so that he can't see the blush on your cheeks.

"Darlin'?"

"Leon!"

"Yes, Buttercup?"

He follows you up the stairs and catches up with you quickly, taking a hold of your hand and winking at you the moment you turn to look at him.

Oh yeah. You're alive. Alive and whipped. All for this man.

Leon's got so much personality and you love it. He oozes confidence, intelligence, superiority and richness. It's in his smooth movement, the way he handles his weapons and flirts with you like it's the most normal things he'll ever do.

He looks good and he knows it.

You walk into a foreign area, halfway down the stairs. It's a very light area, so Leon puts his flashlight away.

The two of you are alerted with ears perked like that of a cat when you hear the sound of scuffling feet above you, and you swear you can see someone or something walking off. You also hear the strange sounds that almost sound like groans of pain.

Leon frowns, gives you a look, before the two of you begin to move again. It's a long corridor, and you haven't heard any sounds of any zombies or lickers yet, so you don't feel as scared here as you did in the dark, gloomy, bloody hallways of the station. It seems much more clean here, actually, with zero blood to be detected and no hissing of a zombie hiding in a nearby corner.

You come to overlook a large Machinery Room. On the left, the way is blocked, so you have to take a right. The only thing blocking the way there is a cabinet that's toppled over.

Leon doesn't gesture or ask for you to help with pushing it out of the way, but you do it regardless. After it bounces back to its original place, you get the worst jump-scare yet when something jumps right in front of you.

Unlike you expected, it stands still for a moment, eyeing Leon first before it lays its eyes on you standing behind him, and something clicks in your head.

"William?"

"... what did you just say?" Leon asks you, but he barely gets to finish his sentence before the thing pushes Leon against the catwalk you're currently standing on, multiple times, until it breaks and all three of you fall down onto the floor of the Machinery Room.

You're a bit dizzy, and it takes you a few seconds for your head to get back to what's happening. The fall hurt like a bitch, but you get up as fast as you can.

Before you stands — what you believe to be — a mutating William Birkin.

You only recognize him from his face, because Jesus Christ, you don't even know what the hell you're looking at here. His body is mutating into something monstrous, with a large, yellow-ish eyeball in his one huge arm that's already mutated as well.

He seems to be struggling with his transformation, like it's hurting him, tearing him apart on the inside.

In his one mutated arm, he's holding this giant pipe, and fear starts to kick in even more the moment he growls with a murderous look in his eyes, swinging it around as he tries to hit you.

Leon takes out his gun and starts shooting. You're still barely moving, and he really doesn't understand why. Where's that instinct of yours where you attack everything that isn't him? As much as he hates admitting it, he's not sure how to take this guy out, so your help would be most welcome.

He starts shooting the eyeball, hoping it'll do some damage, since shooting the rest of his body doesn't seem to do any.

And it does. It holds him back for a little while, and he groans even more in pain. Trying to buy some more time, he throws in a grenade, but then you start shouting at him.

"No, don't kill him!"

"Why not!?"

"Because I'm pretty sure that's my uncle!"

"He's your what!?"

Leon has no clue whether you're playing some weird game with him, but he sees your face for a brief second and recognizes genuine worry and fear.

"I don't know what's happening to him!" You yell out, hesitantly grabbing your pistol only to hold it in front of you without shooting a single bullet.

He considers it, for your sake. He does. He considers not killing this fucker, but there seems to be no way out of here for now, and with him chasing you and attempting to bash your heads in, he has to kill him.

"We can't let him live!"

"I can't just kill him!"

"We have to! It's him or us!"

He starts chasing the two of you, wildly swinging that damned pipe around, and you really need to start running if you want to avoid getting hit. While Leon is quick enough to flee, Birkin does manage to grab you, making you shriek out.

Leon turns around and sees it happening, getting ready to rescue you, but it looks like you don't need it. Your uncle tries to squeeze you with his large arm, but you shove your knife into his large eye, and he drops you in an instant.

After running away from him, you get the feeling he's hit something of a machine in the room, because smoke begins to emerge around you, and you've lost him out of your sight.

What scares you more is that you've also lost Leon. The narrow passageways make you anxious, because if your uncle pops up anywhere, you barely have the room to move away from him. You hear the ringing of gunshots on the other side of the room.

Leon's getting the hang of it. He takes a few shots using both Matilda and the shotgun, making quick turns to make sure Birkin doesn't catch up to him only to repeat all of it again and again. The eyeball is clearly his weak spot, so he gives it his all to take him down.

He's almost too busy fighting the guy off, mind slightly clouded by the adrenaline and the sheer will to survive to think about the fact that the guy he's supposed to kill is a mutating monster as well as your uncle.

It was too coincidental for him to run into you at the gas station. You told him that you came here to visit your uncle for a few days. Was that just some bullshit to get him to trust you? Shit, did he really misread you that badly?

No. You're innocent and he's paranoid.

Or are you lying to him the same way he's lying to you?

His head is spinning, and he hates it, because he usually never loses his grip and control like this. Shit. And it's all because of you.

The two of you nearly bump into each other, and you grab your flash grenade to throw it at your uncle to stun him so that Leon has the room to shoot the eye repeatedly with both Matilda and the shotgun.

And it works. The big eyeball that was previously yellow has now turned red, and your uncle groans and hisses in pain, the most and loudest he's done so far. You both watch Birkin stumble backwards and fall over the railing, disappearing into the seemingly infinite darkness underneath the room.

Leon exhales and furrows his brows before he turns to you with a stern, almost cold look on his face, towering over you. "Start talking."

His words and tone make you feel a certain way you can't quite describe, but it's certainly not a good feeling. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" He lets out a humorless chuckle. "That thing was your uncle."

"So? What is there to explain?"

"He's not a zombie like everyone else we've encountered so far. You said you came here to spend some more time with him. 'S that just a coincidence or what?" He asks, talking in a way that makes you feel smaller than you actually are.

"What—what are you even trying to say? Seriously."

"Just tell me why you're here!"

"Fine!" You yell back at him. "I'm majoring in chemistry. William, my uncle, sent me an email with the news that there was a free spot on some new internship they were developing at Umbrella, so he asked me to come over for a few days. I could stay with them. I initially didn't want to, because virology isn't my thing, but it had been so long since I'd seen Sherry — their daughter — that I accepted. William and Annette are always at work, she told me that over the phone and I—"

You stop talking all of a sudden.

"What?"

"Sherry. Oh God. Shit! She's twelve! If her dad is here, turned into that, then I'm not sure if she's okay."

You begin to worry, frightened of the idea of your cousin being turned into a zombie. All the emotions you're feeling tonight are overwhelming you, and if you don't make it out of this place soon, you feel like you'll die from a damn heart attack instead of the outbreak that's currently taking place.

It makes you feel sick to your stomach.

Leon wants to shake his head to himself. You don't know the things he does. You're genuinely just someone who got caught up in the mess here and is now trying to get out again.

He sighs. "I'm sorry. Let's just go find your cousin, alright?"

But you're not letting him get off so easily.

The dynamic you two have is strange. It keeps going back and forth from distrust to something sweet and playful. You're joking around and flirting one moment, yelling and accusing one another the next.

"You don't trust me." You state, and part of you doesn't want to make a big deal out of this, because if anything it's somewhat understandable. How long have you known each other now? Two hours? Three?

Leon knows. He knows you're doubting him from time to time, he knows you don't trust him completely.

You know he doesn't trust you completely either, but if he's being honest, he knows you would do everything to save his life if it came down to it. Not because you're so attached to him, but because you're just that type of person.

He isn't.

Would he let you die if it meant saving himself? He's an asshole for thinking it, but yes, he absolutely would.

Would he just give you up without a fight?

Nope. If he can help it, you're gonna stick with him 'till the end.

"I'm not used to being a team player." He admits, and it's the truth. He needs to say something that isn't a lie, although lying usually comes easy to him. "With what's happening here, I don't feel like I can really trust anyone."

You nod, because you understand. "I'm sorry, I... I'm sorry. I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm bothering you, aren't I?" You feel like it sounds stupid, but you're just speaking your mind.

"If you were bothering me, I would say so. Besides," He says, stepping closer to the point where you can feel his breath on your face. "You're starting to grow on me a little bit."

Your face heats up at his comment, and he walks off, collecting some of the herbs and ammo that were lying around in the room, not to mention the newly found grenade now hanging on his belt.

There's a ladder in the middle, and you could've sworn it wasn't there before, but you choose to shrug it off and just climb up.

You're now walking through the room you were first ambushed in, finding another herb as well as some gunpowder in one of the lockers. There's some books on the table, a few notes scribbled on paper, but you choose to ignore them.

Leon heads up the stairs to a higher room, with more lockers, a table, a typewriter and some big black box. He opens the locker, finding another hip pouch there.

It's the second one you two have found that night, and once you see it in his hands, you're instantly a bit happier because you can take more items with you now. "Can I have it?"

"No."

You pout at him. "Why not?"

"I barely have room for anything else."

"Maybe you shouldn't have put on that fancy suit, then."

"Casual has never really been my style."

"Oh, I can see that." You sarcastically chuckle, and he only raises his brow at you. "Loose red tie, no blazer, sleeves rolled up — you look like a detective from a noir film."

He cocks his head. "I'm gonna interpret this as you saying I look good."

"You do." The simple comment and shrug of your shoulders intrigue him. "Too bad you've got such an ego, though."

He chuckles a little at your comment when you walk over to the ladder, hips swaying just a bit more than they normally do.

Before he can protest, you've already gone up the ladder, far too eager to see what you hope is going to be daylight, or at least a zombie-less place. You push open the hatch, which is awfully heavy for your taste.

There's a light that blinds you for a mere second. You see a shutter, some police cars, as well as a car outside of which the lights are still on.

"It's a parking garage." You tell Leon before pushing the hatch to the side so you can get out properly.

It's so quiet. Not a scary quiet, a good quiet. A comfortable silence, one you've been longing for ever since you got to this damned city. The coast seems to be clear, so you begin to walk over to the shutter, which only seems to open with a key card — you know, the one you don't have.

"Great. Where are we gonna find that?" You say, thinking out loud, seeing Leon look a bit annoyed as well.

"Should be around here somewhere..." He hums, looking around to see three doors, so he figures that all the exploring you two have been doing hasn't come to an end yet. He still needs to get into the lab, which should be underground — or so he's been told.

His eyes stop moving as soon as they detect motion. From behind a car emerge three dogs. They look like police dogs, all being the same breed, but you're pretty sure that their white eyes and torn up skin are not normal.

"You gotta be kidding me." Leon huffs, getting out his gun. He gets the first one to drop with two bullets, but the other two jump at the both of you so fast that you fall backwards.

Instinctively, you get your knife out and shove it into its neck. You push the animal off you before stabbing the one on top of Leon as well, because he can't reach Matilda or his shotgun. While you could've used your own gun, you didn't want to take the risk of accidentally shooting Leon instead.

One of them isn't entirely dead, ready to bite you in the neck, but it halts in its movement because of a bullet through the head.

Except it wasn't Leon who fired the shot.

Now that he can reach Matilda, he holds it up in front of him, pointing at whoever shot at the dog. From a distance, you can see the silhouette of a person getting closer.

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't this. She's wearing sunglasses — even though it's a September night — and a light beige trenchcoat, black leather gloves and a grey scarf, which seems to be hiding some pretty choker that's sitting on her neck. With a gun in her right hand, she uses the other to whip out a badge. "Lower it. FBI."

Leon gets up before you do, extending his hand to you. You accept it, giving him a grateful smile after which you turn to the mysterious lady. "Thanks for the help."

"Surprised you made it this far." She says, her short hair moving as she begins to strut off in her black heels. Those must be uncomfortable in a situation like this.

"You're FBI? You must know something about what the hell's happening here." You say carefully, since she doesn't seem to be impressed by either of you. If you thought Leon had some cold and distant moments, she was ten times worse.

"Sorry. That information's classified."

You frown. "Where are you going?"

The woman turns around, almost dramatically, and you can feel her glaring at you through those sunglasses covering her eyes. "Do yourselves a favor: stop asking questions and get the hell out of here."

It's quiet for a few seconds, and you have no idea what the fuck just happened. She's already walked off through some door leading God knows where when you turn to your companion. "What do we do now?"

"We find a key card to open the shutter. Screw the feds." He replies casually, putting his gun back. He doesn't believe for one second that the lady is an actual FBI agent, he wasn't born yesterday. FBI agents don't dress like that, and they sure as hell don't pretend to be this enigmatic.

But he's not gonna tell you that. For all he knows, you could be the shittiest liar and fuck everything up if the woman knows you're not buying her façade.

You let out a sigh, nodding at his suggestion. "Yeah, okay."

Apart from the hole you just crawled out of, there's three places you can go. Or, well, three doors. The FBI lady left through the door at the far end. There's also the two doors on the other side of the garage, one with a green light above it and one with a red light.

Deciding to push your luck, you begin to walk towards the door at the far end. From what you and Leon gather, this is the entrance to the jail.

Why the hell is the jail here rather than in the station itself?

There's an office on the left, so you go inside, finding a visitor's guide to the place — a map. "Look. We're in the jail right now, right?"

Leon hums. "Looks like it. Firing Range, Morgue, Kennel, Generator Room." He reads the names of the rooms out loud, his eyes trailing over the map.

"Morgue?" You ask, stifling a laugh. "That can't be worse than all the shit we've seen so far. I'll be glad to see some actual dead bodies." You're kidding. You don't want to enter any more damn rooms, let alone the morgue.

"That is if they're actually dead."

You slightly roll your eyes at his comment. "You're such a pessimist."

"I'm real—"

"—realistic. I know." You interrupt him, nodding your head.

"Yeah." He adds with a grin, gesturing for the two of you to leave the office. You still need to find that key card, after all.

He's getting the feeling that getting to the lab is going to be harder than he initially expected.

Folding up the map, he hands it to you again so you can carry it. This time, you grab his hand without him asking you to do so, and he has to suppress a smile.

Yeah. He can't even bring himself to give a shit about that virus sample right now. He could stare at you all night and believe it's worthwhile.

Fucking hell, he's down bad.

Chapter 5: With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility

Summary:

Bonnie and Clyde head into the jail, only to discover you need to solve a puzzle in order to leave the parking garage.

Chapter Text

What you see in the jail is less than pleasant.

It seems like everyone behind the bars has turned into the brainless monsters you've been fighting the entire night. They try to grab you from behind the rusty white steel, but luckily the doors are locked.

At the end of the hall, you can either take a left or a right. On the right is a lever on the wall that seems out of use, and the door is locked. You begin to walk to the left, where you're greeted by an unfamiliar voice.

"I can't believe it! A real human!" You hear a male voice say, clearly sounding happy to see you. "Hello, human!"

The sentence makes you snort. While Leon likes to make sure you're close to him in general, whenever you meet new people, he grows very protective to an almost paranoid extent, standing half in front of you, just because he can.

He wouldn't want your pretty head to get bit off.

"Are we the last ones alive?"

You're not sure what to think of the man standing in front of you, though behind bars. He's smoking a cigarette, with his hair in a low ponytail and a pair of glasses sitting on his nose.

"No, there's a few of us." You reply.

"Oh. Well that's good news, I guess. Unless Irons sent you."

Leon frowns. "Irons?"

"Brian Irons. Police chief. Hopefully someone's dinner by now."

You furrow your brows. That was certainly not something you expected to hear. "What? Why?"

"He's the asshole that locked me in here."

"I'm sure he had a good reason." Leon responds almost immediately, seemingly unimpressed by this survivor.

The guy nods, throwing away his cigarette just after inhaling one last time. "He did. I was about to blow the whistle on his dirty ass. I'd have done the same thing too, I guess."

"What are you talking about?"

The three of you are interrupted the moment you hear the sound of one of the jail doors opening. It's silent again after that, and you look from the direction of the noise to Leon. "What was that?"

"Hey! Pretty girl. I'll make you a deal. Unlock this cell and I'll give you this. There's no other way outta that parking garage, believe me!" Both you and Leon grimace at the way he addressed you. He's holding up the key card for the shutter.

Well, at least now you know where it is.

And you just can't let go of your damn sarcasm. "Buddy, I don't know if you've noticed, but the power is out. Even if we wanted to let you out, we can't."

He knows you have a point, but the guy is desperate. "Look, we're all prisoners in this station. So either we play nice and help each other out—" He pauses the moment you hear another sound from somewhere in the garage. "Shit. It's coming."

Leon gets Matilda out of his holster out of instinct. "What's coming?"

The man backs up, now standing near the wall as he looks around, seemingly scared and impatient at the same time. "C'mon—c'mon, don't be an asshole, okay! You need this! Just get me the fuck outta here!"

He's only barely finished his sentence when somebody's hand suddenly breaks through the wall. The huge hand picks the man up by his head, lifting his body from the floor. Leon has his gun raised, aiming at whatever the hell is happening in front of you, but you both just watch. The hand stops moving the man for a brief second until he squeezes, breaking the man's skull.

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

You watch with your mouth agape how the man's body drops to the floor, mouth hanging open with his eyes nearly popping out. Whatever it was that just crushed his head is walking off with loud footsteps, the blood of the man still on the wall.

The sight is horrible. You actually want to throw up now. It makes you feel sick to your stomach. With wide eyes, you look at Leon. "What the fuck!?"

Before either of you can do anything, you hear footsteps again — this time much softer ones, heels. You've already grabbed your gun and Leon aims at where the footsteps are coming from.

"Show yourself!"

And the mystery lady is back. She just struts towards you casually, swaying her hips. "It's just me, so you can put that thing away."

You put your weapon back in its place. "I don't even know what happened... he just... got crushed." You're still heavily breathing.

She puts her hands on the bars. "I told you to get out of here. You wouldn't want to end up like Ben, would you?"

So that's his name. Huh. He didn't strike you as a Ben. "Wait, you knew him?"

"He was an informant. Had information of use to my investigation." The woman crosses her arms, eyeing the ugly and bloody sight in front of her as if it's some fascinating painting in a museum.

"So what he said about Irons was true?"

You're not sure whether she doesn't know the answer or just doesn't want to give it to you, but she begins to strut away again. Leon decides that he's had enough and grabs her by the arm. He usually doesn't like getting touchy with people — so he really surprised himself when he felt how much he enjoys holding your hand — but this lady is annoying him to the point he's willing to do anything.

"You can't keep walking away from us!" He states, and said lady shrugs his arm off. "We don't even know your name."

She looks at the both of you through her sunglasses. "As I recall, you haven't exactly introduced yourselves either."

He introduces you both by giving her only your first names. He would've given a fake name had you not been standing beside him, just in case. Who knows what she knows about everything that's happening here.

The woman is silent for a few seconds before she tilts her head. "Find a way out, Leon." She says his name mockingly. "If you and your girlfriend make it that far, we'll talk. The name's Ada."

"We certainly will." Leon says as she walks off, and you swear you heard her scoff just a little bit before she's gone from your sight.

You just turn to him, raising your brow.

He shrugs. "What is it?"

"You don't like her."

While he knows what you're getting at, he chooses to wave it off regardless. "You do?"

"Let me just rephrase that real quick. You seem to thoroughly dislike her. How 'bout that?"

"There is a possibility that you're correct."

Rolling your eyes at his answer, you sigh. "Just tell me why. I'm not an idiot."

Maybe not, but you are a bit naive. Just a little bit.

He doesn't say that out loud though. "I think she's acting a little shady for an FBI agent. She could help us find a way out, but instead she's just walking around, acting all high and mighty."

"Leon, have you seen the way you walk around here?"

"This is about Ada, not me."

"People dodge questions when they know you've got a point." You grin at him, finger poking at his chest. "You're no different."

He takes a hold of your finger. "Damn. Here I was, thinking I was unique to you."

A laugh escapes your mind. "Oh, you're unique, all right."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Please. Your whole act is way too predictable." You respond, and when he puts his hands on his hips without saying anything, cocking his brow, you continue. "Look at you. You act all untouchable, like you're so fucking cool with your flirty comments, nice hair, pet names and your suit and red tie."

He pretends to think, averting his eyes from your gaze while he steps closer to you. You naturally take a step back. "That your type?"

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he's planning to back you up against this wall. "Depends on the person, really."

"Yeah?" He nods, the corners of his mouth curling upwards. "What about me, then?"

He's so close, and his eyes are boring into yours to an extent that you want to tear your gaze away from him, but you can't. "I—um—we should get going, right?"

A chuckle that shouldn't sound as sinful as it does rolls past his lips after his tongue's darted out to wet them. "Let's go then, Pumpkin."

Quick to regain your wit, you scoff. "Really? Again?"

"Until you tell me a preference, I will keep calling you every pet name that comes to mind." He winks at you. "Predictable, right? As you said I was."

"Forgot to mention that you're also annoying as shit, too."

"You're a terrible liar."

"You'd be surprised, actually."

Hearing more footsteps in the distance made you both stiffen up a bit, rudely interrupting the conversation you were having. Leon looks at Ben, especially the key card hanging on his neck. You can't open the cell because the power is out. There's nothing here you can use to take it from his neck through the bars.

You cross your arms over your chest. "We gotta find a way to turn the power back on." If you two can find a way out, maybe Ada would be willing to share some more details about what's going on.

On the table, he finds a tool, some sort of crank, next to a note. He reads it out loud. "'The power panel is out. Can the person in charge of it please take care of it ASAP!? I assume everyone knows, but since the jail's power panel is old as hell, we're gonna need those custom power panel parts no one makes anymore. There should be a few in the generator room. Addendum: I got word that there's only one of those power panel parts in the generator room. The guy that's here to fix the bell in the clock tower should have another, so someone swipe — I mean, ask him nicely for it, please.'"

Processing everything, you nod slowly. "Wait, the map should tell us where we gotta go."

As you spread it out on the table, Leon's eyes begin to move rapidly. "The generator room is nearby. We gotta pass through the kennel to get there. Then we need to enter the clock tower."

Remembering that the R.P.D. has a huge clock tower, you get out the map from the upper floor of the station. There it is. On the third floor, west side, there's a hallway just above the Main Hall that leads to the clock tower.

"That's where we gotta be." You say, tapping on the place on the map.

Leon's eyes trail over the maps of the station. "We can get there by climbing up those stairs, then go through the storage room, but we're gonna need a tool to get past this shutter over here."

Goddamn. How the hell did anyone get any work done in this place? You find it unbelievable that people actually used to work here. Roaming the halls like normal people. Alive people.

No. You need to shake off those thoughts and get to work.

"Generator room first, then." He says, folding the maps back up while gesturing for you to come with him.

You walk back past all the jail cells holding zombies, then past the small office, back to the parking garage to enter a door you haven't before.

There's two options. Go to the right or keep walking forward.

Leon doesn't wait for you to decide and makes the decision himself, knowing that you'll follow him regardless. You pass a corner, where you find a blue herb, and you could've sworn you read the medicinal benefit of it was getting poison out of your body.

Taking that with you. Just in case. You never know.

Leon opens the door to the Kennel. The doors here in and around the parking garage are so much louder than the ones in the station — it's almost like the universe wants you to die.

Three dogs are caged up, barking as soon as they hear you coming in. A few other cages are empty, with open doors, and you really doubt that's a good sign.

You flinch the moment you hear gunshots next to you. Leon gives each dog about two or three shots, killing them.

To be fair, he was right to do so, but damn do those bullets sound loud in such an echoing space. In the green bin next to the door, he finds some high-grade gunpowder, which he stores away in the little space he's got left.

The two of you move around the room to find another door, which leads to a new hall. At the end seems to be a shutter that you can open with the tool you picked up at the jail, and you insert the item to twist it around until it opens. There's a small staircase there, but instead of going there already, your companion has other ideas.

"Doll." He says, making you turn your head to him. "We missed a room."

Before he can say anything else, you shake your head. "No. Absolutely not. I was joking when I said I wanted to go in there."

"Every room we've come across so far has had something of value in it."

"I am not entering a fucking morgue. That's the one room with guaranteed zombies."

He raises his brow. "After all the shit we've dealt with at this point — zombies, dogs, lickers, your uncle—"

"If that even was him to begin with."

"—you can handle this. I got your back, remember? I thought you wanted to be equals here."

You glare at him the moment he says that last sentence. "Dick." Using your own words against you. Unbelievable.

He chuckles. "Told you you were a better person than I was. I don't play fair."

"I swear to God, you'll get karma for this."

"I'm stuck with your ass, I think that's enough of a punishment already."

Damn. He's on a roll here. "Yet you've been checking out this ass all night, dipdick."

"I sure have." He's really getting a kick out of this. While it's all playful, he has been checking you out several times, so it kind of is the truth. But you know that, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't like him looking at you.

To be completely honest, you've been looking at his ass too.

It looks great in those pants. Fuck.

Anyways.

"Alright. C'mon." You sigh, letting him enter the room first.

There's a guy with bloody hands sitting down against the wall, hunched over, and Leon takes the shotgun off his back to aim it at its head.

He shoots and the shot blows up its head completely. You breathe out in relief. He pats your shoulder for a second, reassuring you.

Even though he's sarcastic, making dry jokes and flirting with you as if he's not fighting his way out of an outbreak with an ulterior motive, he wants to erase everything he's seen so far from his mind. The zombies who used to be people, the damn lickers, all the blood—so much blood. It's the only thing you keep seeing everywhere.

It makes him sick to his stomach.

He knows you're scared — you don't look like you are, but you remind him every now and then. He doesn't pity you, but he does feel a shred of guilt, because it's his fault that you're here. He drove the two of you to the city when he could've gone the other direction, knowing exactly that Raccoon City was equal to hell on earth. It's all on him.

Something flips inside his head. You don't deserve any of this. This experience will give you trauma that you'll have to carry with you for the rest of your life. You're a good person — he's not.

Fuck Umbrella's orders. Fuck Ada and whatever lie she's got going on. He's going to get that sample and escape the city alive with you, together. He won't let you go through this hellhole alone.

So he squeezes your shoulder with a nod that silently says exactly that.

You put up a smile when he does so before you turn back to see an Autopsy Record on a table. You read it quickly, seeing that a man, who was a known kleptomaniac, was deceased.

Kleptomaniacs steal things.

Your brain is incredibly slow to connect the dots due to the awful headache you're having, but it happens nonetheless. It's almost funny.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but we're gonna need to search the sliding trays."

Leon, who's now read the same note as well, hums. "You take the left, I'll take the right."

"Okay."

He moves away, and you start on the right end of the left wall. The tray doesn't seem to open much further than the small bit you've opened now, so you just leave it. The one next to it surprises you, because there's a shaking body in it, so you just shake your head to yourself.

Nope. We're just gonna put that one back.

The one next to it can't open all the way either. Then there's an empty one, so that's easy. You jump all of a sudden when you hear Leon shriek out.

He's got a disgusted look on his face. You already have your gun raised, but it's some big cockroaches on one of the trays. He shrugs his shoulder.

You just can't help yourself, quoting the words he told you just outside this room with a grin on your face. "After all the shit we've dealt with at this point — zombies, dogs, lickers, my uncle—"

"Yeah, yeah, don't get cute now."

"You're saying I'm not cute already?"

"You absolutely are." He says before his voice turns monotonous and casual. "Whenever you put your mouth to good use, that is."

Christ. That comment's got two meanings, and you both know it.

He's usually not like this with women. Sure, he flirts as easily as drawing his next breath, but he always remains respectful — he's not an impulsive man, but he's really acting before thinking right now, and he hopes you like it rather than being turned off by it.

A laugh escapes your lips, and he can breathe properly again, because that sound is really the only thing he wants to hear tonight.

You move on to the next sliding tray, pulling it open to find a properly clothed dead body inside. Its face is hideous, like many of the zombies you've already encountered tonight. The body doesn't move even the slightest bit, so you feel relieved, but you're still on high alert.

Next to its head is a key — it's pink, in the form of a diamond. Right. There's a door in the hallway of the S.T.A.R.S. Office that has a diamond door. You have to get back to the station either way, so making a small detour won't hurt.

That is unless you get bit. That would hurt.

The moment you grab the key to put it away seems to be the cue for the zombie to wake up from his little nap. It makes a sound, arms up in the air while falling off the sliding tray, face first onto the floor — which you would've found funny if it weren't for the fact that the fucker was about to bite your head off.

You get your gun out, getting some good shots in as well as missing quite a few. Leon helps you out by giving the guy several headshots from across the room, and you give the final one that makes it drop to the floor.

A sigh leaves your mouth. "Let's get out of here before he gets up."

"Agreed."

He puts his hand on your lower back when you walk over to him, eyeing the somewhat dead bodies on the floor while you leave the room. Once outside, you reload your gun. It's not done very smoothly, but it does the job. Practice is what you need, after all.

You take a few steps up the stairs, which leads to the Generator Room. From what you can see, there's no zombies inside, or anything else that's undead for that matter.

There's some boxes and other things stored inside, alongside a green herb, which you spot on your left. Leon finds some gunpowder by the wall. What catches your eye immediately is an orange box sitting on a small table opposite of the wall. You open up the side to reveal one of the two power panel parts you need to power the place up again. Holding it up in your hand, you turn to Leon, only to notice he's not standing there anymore.

Taking a few steps, you see him standing by a panel next to a window that shows a red light above a door. You look at the panel, and Leon speaks while flicking some of them on and off. "They all run a different amount of voltage to the meters, so we need the right amount to restore the power." The moment the first two switches are off and the two on the right are on, the light by the door turns green and the light turns on.

It all makes way too much noise for your liking. You swear you hear something behind you, and the moment you hear the growling and barking of a dog, you know it's bad. Really bad.

Oh, shit.

One of the zombie dogs just jumps the fucking fence that's in the middle of the room, and Leon has decided that he's really had it. He whips out the shotgun, giving the dog the shots needed to make sure it drops to the floor. You make a run to get out of the room, seeing a dog behind the barricade there, but you both choose to ignore it for the time being.

You run down the hall to the Kennel, where a dog bursts into the room through a grate, giving you a minor heart attack.

The dogs actually scare you more than the zombies, because Jesus Christ are they fast. If one of those things bites you, you're done.

Leon notices he can evade the dogs quite easily, so he runs in zig-zag motions to make sure they can't get to him. You two reach the door with the now green light above it and make a run to get there.

It seems that you're safe from the dogs now. You take a moment to breathe. It genuinely surprises you that you've made it so far without any zombie-things biting you, but then again, you have Leon with you. Though you're certainly defending yourself more than you did compared to when you just entered the station, so you suppose you feel good about that.

It's awfully quiet in the hallway you're standing in. Neither of you have any idea what it leads to, so you start to walk, passing the corner and going up the stairs.

The first thing you see is a few windows, green-ish walls that remind you of the horrifying place that is the station. Is this a back door? It's both weird and fitting how everything in this place connects with one another.

You get another minor heart attack when a zombie comes out of nowhere and starts to beat against the glass of the window. You don't waste any time, using the boards you were still carrying with you somehow to close it off as fast as possible.

Leon grabs Matilda and checks the door by the stairs, though not before taking the shotgun shells sitting on a plank across from it. He carefully flicks on the light as he peeks inside to find that the room is empty.

Well, empty of zombies at least. There's a shitload of stuff in there.

"Doll! It's safe here." He calls out to you, the nickname feeling all too natural on his tongue, and you enter the room. There's a cowboy-like hat on the table, as well as a typewriter. Storage box, lockers — the room might be small, but there's plenty of useful items inside.

Leon whips open the lockers, though still somewhat carefully because of that zombie popping out of the locker in the room upstairs, but he's pleasantly surprised to find some high-grade gunpowder and handgun ammo.

You walk to the back of the room behind the wall, eyes trailing over the empty beds, the bag on the floor, then to the magnum ammo on the sink. You've collected so many rounds for that gun already, if only the gun itself was in your possession.

There's also another electrical part, one that looks awfully similar to the one you put in the fuse box at the shutter by the Main Hall not too long ago.

"We're probably in the Break Room right now." Leon says when you walk back to him. He points at the map, which he apparently nicked from you when you weren't paying attention, because you didn't even know he had it. "We need to go through this hallway, then back to the Hall."

"Okay."

While your mind is blank when you're reloading and checking your gun, Leon frowns. "Your hands are trembling." He says.

It's not until then that you realize he's right, and you look up at him with big eyes. You didn't mean to look so sad, but apparently you do, because he puts his hand on them.

"You're doing good. We just need to hold out a little longer and then we're out of here, yeah?" He assures you, surprising himself with a soft voice he almost can't believe belongs to him.

Swallowing your fear, you nod in agreement. You can do this.

The two of you leave the Break Room, and Leon — with the exceptional hearing he has — can tell that there's something unpleasant waiting for you by the corner.

Something unpleasant being a small group of zombies lunging for you the moment they sense any movement.

Oh no. Fuck this shit. You cannot do this.

"What the fuck!?" You exclaim while quickly raising your gun and shooting, mimicking Leon's actions.

While he gets all the headshots, you fail miserably, and a zombie grabs you, but thank fucking God for the flash grenade you manage to shove in its mouth.

Right on time, you both close your eyes and cover your ears. The zombie Leon shot is down on the floor, the one you gave a flashbang seems like it went through a brain surgery went wrong.

You feel disgusted when you realize its blood is on your face and shirt that used to be white.

But no time to dwell on it. Not right now. You're on a mission.

Both of you look at the zombie that seems to be out on the floor, because it hasn't moved yet but you both know better to think that that means you're safe.

Leon puts his hand up, gesturing for you to stay back and keep quiet. You have no idea what he's planning. He steps closer to the zombie, then raises his foot to muster up all the strength he has to stomp its ugly face with his fancy shoes.

And you swear you can hear its skull breaking.

The man in the suit turns to look at you. "Put the electrical part in the box."

It takes you a few seconds to process what he's said, but you blink a few times and move to do it either way. The red light becomes green and the shutter in front of you opens.

Holy shit. You recognize it as the Watchman's Room, which is where you rescued Elliot earlier tonight.

Elliot. Marvin.

You're going back to the Main Hall, which means you're gonna see them too. You can go tell them that you've made progress and that you might just be on time for them to get them to a hospital nearby.

Your feet begin to move quicker instantly, energy becoming a bit higher again, and you feel more determined than before.

Leon notices this, but shrugs it off. All he knows is that he hates this hallway and wants to get past it as fast as possible.

So you move through the East Office, he shoots a guy with a shotgun and makes sure it's down forever.

The pair of you make it to the Main Hall, and you want to rush to the Goddess Statue to tell the two officers that you're still alive — but Leon holds you back instantly, shaking his head.

He holds his gun up, finger off the trigger, pointing it up as if to tell you to listen carefully. He takes a few steps forward, and there they are — and you feel all hope that you had leaving your body.

They've turned. They turned into the same brainless monsters you've encountered in the rest of the station, the jail and the morgue.

Goddamnit. You spoke to them, you smiled at them, cried when they told you to go and save yourself. Now here they are, trying to kill you. They don't remember you, they don't remember anything. You curse yourself for imagining them having families, parents, children, maybe even pets. They were kind, loyal, good men. They didn't deserve to die.

It makes you feel utterly and completely useless. Maybe if you'd ran faster, maybe if you'd taken less time bantering with Leon, maybe if you'd done better, they would've been alive.

Since you're frozen in your spot, Leon pushes you back, takes his shotgun off his back and shoots the both of them. You flinch at the sight, but you know it's necessary.

They fall back and you just wanna lay down and die. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"We didn't make it back in time. We weren't fast enough." You say softly, staring in front of you blankly with teary eyes and a building pressure in your chest. "I failed."

Leon looks at you. "There's nothing you could've done."

"I could've—I could've gotten them to a hospital, if only I'd been faster!" You tell him, the sudden burst of anger hitting you like a truck.

"The hospital?" He asks, taking a step towards you, towering over you. He might be approaching this wrong, but damn it all. "The hospital? How delusional are you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The entire city is infected. Everyone. Including the hospital staff. You're a fool if you think there's any survivors."

His harsh words make you even angrier. "So you just give up on everyone who's infected?"

"Yes, without a doubt, because you can't save them. Not without a vaccine, which we do not have."

"You're unbelievably selfish."

"And you're unbelievably stupid. Would you rather die trying to save someone you know can't be saved or live knowing you couldn't have done anything?"

A huff of frustration leaves your mouth. "Fuck you, Leon."

"Don't you dare say that to me." He states, closing even more distance between you. "It's not my fault you can't handle the truth. This is how the world works, Pumpkin, and if you don't feel the need to have a sense of self preservation, fine, but you should say so now because I'm not putting my life on the line for someone who's ready to die."

"I'm not—I don't want to die."

"Good. Me neither. Welcome to the club."

"But I don't wanna live like this, either."

He frowns. "What are you saying?"

You glare at him. "I'm not letting these people die for nothing. I believe my uncle's company has something to do with this mess, and I'll find out what it is, with or without you — your choice."

He's dead silent for a little while, observing you, as if he's actually considering it. He's not. He knows he'll say yes, because then he has an excuse to go the lab with you, which is where he was planning to take you regardless.

He has you in his grasp. On the one hand, you're so naive, but he knows you're still smart enough to figure out what's happening here, and he enjoys the challenge.

"Fine. Let's go hunt some scientists, then."

Chapter 6: Gentlemen Are Murderers

Summary:

X gon' give it to ya!

(Alternatively: you and Leon have to run for your lives.)

Chapter Text

You haven't missed the station in the time you were gone. Part of you hates the fact that the dark, bloody hallways begin to feel familiar to you as you walk through them. The maps of the station are pretty much burned into your mind, even if you haven't used them that much.

The two of you find yourselves up on the second floor, in the hallway by the Art Room, ready to enter a new area you have yet to explore. While the sound of the fire alarm begins to fade out in the background, Leon inserts the tool into the wall by the shutter, making it go up. It shows another hallway.

Seeing no zombies around makes you feel beyond relieved.

On the left is a door with a heart key — the Chief's Office. Since you don't have a key, there's no way inside that place. Other than that, there's just stairs, and surprise surprise! You get to choose whether you'd rather get eaten in the basement or the storage room!

Yeah, no. This shit is becoming too much. Your sanity is crumbling with each passing second.

"Up or down?" Leon asks you, and you shrug carelessly.

"Humor me."

"Up it is."

While you're still your sarcastic self, he notices something awfully close to indifference and sadness in your behavior. It's in the way your shoulders hang forward, the look on your face, the tone of your voice. Yet your hands have been trembling even more than before ever since you left the Main Hall, though you don't even seem to notice.

He understands. He does. Shooting the two officers was difficult for you to see, especially since you really seemed to enjoy their company, and not just because of the outbreak.

He wishes he wasn't as attached to you as he is, wishes that he would feel like your pessimistic yet chirpy and fun behavior and sarcasm and pretty smile isn't something he needs to get through the damn night — but he does.

Leon takes a handkerchief from his pocket, and you flinch in surprise when he gently takes a hold of your chin, wiping some of the blood away. He tries not to look into your big, wide eyes, because they're his absolute weakness.

You're becoming his weakness.

Shit.

"There was some blood on your face." He mutters softly but loud enough for you to hear. As sudden as the sentence may be, it's like he's comforting you, being the softest he's been with you so far. "C'mon. We got work to do."

You feel like he was gonna tell you something else, like he was about to confess something, but he swallowed his words right back in, leaving you wondering. He puts the handkerchief back where it was and proceeds to grab your hand.

His is warm while yours is cold. It's a nice gesture that makes your heart burst every time he does it, and you nod to yourself, knowing you have to keep going. For everyone you've met tonight.

As you two walk up the stairs, the first thing you see is all the lockers at the top of the stairs. It feels good whenever you can pick up some more supplies, almost like an insurance that you'll live.

The wooden boards are the shittiest to carry, and since you're low on space, you decide not to pick them up. You've boarded up quite some windows already anyways. In the lockers, you find another flash grenade and some handgun ammo, which you split with Leon, because you're both running a bit low on that as well.

Leon opens a door, tilting his head to check the room. It's very obviously a storage room, and he briefly squints. He gets wary every time a room feels too quiet, like the zombies are trying to scare him.

His heartbeat quickens just a bit when he hears the now familiar hissing and grunting, and by the sound of it, there has to be more than one. He doesn't believe there's more than three, so he holds up three fingers to you, and you understand.

Instead of using a stealth approach like he usually does — though doing it like that is always difficult with zombies — he pushes you back into the hallway, makes a loud noise by kicking the door with his heel and whips his shotgun out. There's sudden footsteps, two zombies begin to limp towards him and he uses a flash grenade right on time before shooting the both of them.

The closer he can get to them with the shotgun, the bigger the chance their heads explode. Even though he didn't need the flashbang to do so, it does work really well to put them down permanently.

Good. Seems like the coast is clear. "C'mon, Doll. It's safe now."

You almost chuckle at the way he casually pulls you into the room. He always takes care of them so easily, like it's nothing. He never seems fazed either. Honestly, you can only admire him for it, wishing you could handle them that way.

Leon finds more shotgun shells on a shelf close to another Heart Door, which you can't unlock because you still don't have that damn key. There's a blue herb as well, but your eyes lock on the large gear sitting on top of a box. "What are we supposed to do with this thing?"

He shrugs. "Leave it. We can always come back for it. It's not like we can carry that thing through the station anyways."

Yeah, he's right about that. The item is pretty big, seemingly quite heavy, so you leave it be, but not without making a note on the map that it's here. There's a door on the other side of the room, but it's locked from the other side, so that's a dead end for now.

So you end up leaving the storage room and go back to the hallway, then walking through the other door.

It's still raining outside, which you notice because you're now standing on the roof. The sound of the fire alarm instantly becomes louder again, and you can see the fire from the helicopter.

The fire pretty much lights up the whole place, so it's not even necessary to get a flashlight out. Leon grabs the blue herb on one of the tables while you check out whether it's safe to climb down.

And you find that the coast is clear. No zombies, no lickers... the peace and quiet around you — save for the fire alarm of course — is creeping you out.

It's too fucking quiet.

Nonetheless, you go down on the ladder, after which Leon follows the moment you're on the ground — but as he's halfway, the ladder breaks off from the wall. He can only jump off just in time to prevent himself from falling flat on his face.

He takes a few steps backwards, then turns to look at you. "I had a big breakfast." He says when you raise your brow at him.

His comment makes you snort. "I bet."

He sighs before pouting. "I'm starving, actually."

"Tell me about it. If we make it out of here alive, the first thing I'm gonna do is eat."

"I'll buy us dinner."

"Is this your way of asking me out on a date?"

"Maybe. Would you say yes?"

"Eh... try harder next time."

"Damn. Tough crowd."

The both of you chuckle as you turn your attention back to the crashed helicopter. Walking through the door, past the corner, the way back to the station is blocked.

"Shit. We gotta do something about the fire." You groan, because literally all odds seem to be against you tonight.

Locked doors. Closed shutters. Missing power panel parts. A fucking helicopter in the way.

You're just getting it from all sides today, aren't you?

Leon walks back outside, seeing a lever near the broken off ladder. He pushes it down, and water comes out, but it doesn't put out the fire. "We gotta divert it somehow, which means there should be a pump somewhere nearby."

You're off grabbing the ammo on a bench near the fiery debris of the chopper before you jog back to him. "Down the stairs, maybe?"

He nods at your comment. You both turn left and head down the stairs. As you walk down, you notice two green herbs on the ground, and you frown a little. Things have been going oddly well, and you've collected an awful lot of herbs already without having to use one. The only time you needed first aid was when that licker cut you, but it's been a while since then.

Your ears are perked as soon as you hear something. There's something rattling in the distance, but you can't put your finger on it. Leon hears it too, and he has a pretty good feeling what it is. He gets his shotgun out on instinct, but shit, he's running low on shells.

He taps your arm twice. "The door."

"The—what?"

"They're about to bust through the door." He articulates almost mockingly, pointing at the door across from you, which has been boarded up.

"They're not strong enough, it's been sealed off—oh fuck, they got through." You say as two zombies are now coming at you, their bloody arms reaching out even though they're still half a courtyard away.

Leon snickers. "Told you."

"Tch. Show off."

He takes a few steps forward, shooting the lady zombie first because that one's faster for some reason, while you shoot at the other one.

And once he's put the chick down, he's beyond surprised to find that you managed to take the guy down. He feels proud of you. "Nice job."

"Why thank you, mister." You grin, putting the gun back in the holster.

Now that the zombies are put down, you walk into the space they just came from. It's rather small and appears to be the Boiling Room. You move past all the pipes and find some gunpowder. The back room seems like the place to be, with another typewriter, a box and a new key — the Club Key.

You're out of the room just as quick as you came in, finding yourself back outside. You nudge Leon's arm, pointing at the yellow valve switch attached to the wall as well as several pipelines. You switch it to the other side. "That oughta do it, right?"

Leon only shrugs, so you walk back up the stairs and pull the lever again. Pulling the switch did indeed do the job, because the water now goes through the right valve instead of the left. It gushes onto the chopper, and the fire goes out, meaning it should be safe to get back to the station now.

The two of you enter the hall again, grabbing the red herb sitting in the corner before taking a right. You only just began to think about how you were going to get past that helicopter when there's sudden movement behind it.

A huge... man in a trenchcoat and a fedora on his head lifts up the wreckage and tosses it aside like it's nothing.

You blink for a few seconds before both you and Leon express your surprise at the same time, with the same line.

"Jesus Christ!"

It's out of character for Leon to act as such, but this motherfucker is huge. Umbrella did not tell him that this guy was involved. What the fuck even is that thing?

Oh shit. He starts to walk in your direction, and neither of you think he has good intentions. It's not an option to run past him, so you immediately run back to the roof.

His footsteps are heavy and holy hell do they make him ten times more scary. You think he's way too big to even fit through the door, but he just pushes it open and walks through.

He stomps after you menacingly. "Why is he following us. Why is he following us!?" You ask rhetorically, simultaneously scared and frustrated.

"Just keep—keep running!"

"Where!? We have nowhere to go!"

"Fuck, Boiler Room?"

"I swear to God, if he follows us in there—"

"Just shut up and go!"

"Fine! Fuck!"

Oh boy, you did not expect your night to become even worse than it already was, but who knows what else the universe has in store for you.

Aside from a strangely dressed monster, of course.

Just like that, you've returned to the back room of the Boiler Room, and you hear his footsteps. Oh God, if he comes in here now, you're finished. Dead. Gone. Out.

Just another body to be added to the pile.

"Leon—" you begin as you start to panic, but he pulls you close to him with one arm snaking around your waist while he puts his other hand over your mouth to cover it.

His lashes are fucking longer than yours. It's so unfair.

That's one of the things you notice now that you can stare at his face while being so close. You see the drops of rain in his hair and on his face, accentuating his features — as if his cheekbones weren't sharp enough already.

You accidentally whine out in surprise when the big guy enters through the first door, and Leon's grip on both your waist and face tightens. "Quiet." He whispers sternly.

Holy shit. The footsteps are so close to the door, and they halt for a second. You feel like this is it. He's about to come in here and rip your head off your body.

That is, until he goes back out the door again. Leon doesn't let go of you yet, partially because he enjoys holding you this close to him, but also because he wants the guy to be at a safe distance.

As soon as the footsteps have faded out, he glances down at you, and the sudden yet intense eye contact with you makes him feel a certain way he can't explain.

"He's gone for now. I think he's gonna chase us the entire time."

You sigh. "Jesus. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse."

He raises his brow. "He doesn't walk that fast. We can outrun him."

"The idea of running all night doesn't really appeal to me."

"But getting killed by Fedora-Wearing-Wrinkly-Man does?"

You frown at him, hands on your hips. "Leon, I don't know if you've noticed, but I am this close to absolutely losing it, and therefore I would greatly appreciate it if you would try not to raise my anxiety levels with every comment you make."

"It's called—"

"No! No. I don't want you to tell me you're being realistic again. No."

He raises his hands as if he's surrendering, with a hint of a smirk on his face. "Alright, alright. Whatever you say, Sugar."

Squinting your eyes at him, you're so determined to catch him off guard, to let him get rid of of his cocky demeanor for just a second. You move over to him, acting like you're adjusting his suit.

And he just chooses to stay quiet, eyes following your every move curiously when you get closer to him again. He looks down to you, since you're shorter than he is, but your expression is hard to read, shoulders back and chin up.

For a brief moment, you two forget about all the shit that's happening around you.

"You look good in this." You tell him, and he grins just a little bit.

"'S that so?"

"Mhm." You hum, looking up at him, batting your eyelashes subtly, moving over to the velvet material hanging loosely around his neck. "I like your tie."

He just can't suppress showing the smugness from you complimenting him — that is until you purposely tighten the red cloth to an extent that he nearly chokes.

"I'm not sure you're my type though." Liar. You shrug casually, backing away from him before reloading your gun. "C'mon. We've got work to do."

Goddamn. You're a little minx, and you know it. He's starstruck for a moment. "Yes ma'am." He kind of chuckles to himself. He doesn't know what the fuck that was, but what he does know is that he's alarmingly turned on.

But pleasure will have to wait. Unfortunately. Surviving and completing the mission comes first.

"Okay, so... the plan. Avoid Trenchcoat Man, use the Club Key to open the Club doors, which should contain something we desperately need to get to the Clock Tower." You say, lining it all up in your head step by step.

"That's it. And speaking of the big guy, he seems to have superhuman hearing, so if we take a few steps, he'll hear us. We have to keep moving the whole time. Don't waste bullets on him."

Nodding, you take a deep breath. "Let's go fuck shit up, then."

He doesn't smirk or grin or smile this time. He knows one of the Club doors is in the west hallway with several open windows, which is pretty much the cursed hallway to him. It's small, narrow and crowded with undead beings that look like they came straight out of the bowels of hell.

But he's too busy to give a shit.

The two of you move into the station, going past the Art Room, then proceeding to go down the stairs as soon as you've gone further down the hall. It's quiet for a moment, but you can already hear the big fucker walking in your direction. "Move, Princess!"

"I am moving, asshole!"

You don't even have the time to worry about the zombie banging on the window. All you think about is that you have to run for your fucking life. You're grateful for the fact that the universe at least blessed you with a partner like Leon — he doesn't crack under pressure, he's more than capable and his presence makes everything just a bit less depressing.

He's quick to open the door with the key. You're greeted with the sight of a dead police officer weirdly clinging onto a cupboard, with his ass up in the most uncomfortable position imaginable, but he doesn't move. At all. And he has gunpowder on him, so you'll take what you can get.

What catches both your eyes is the broken glass of the Interrogation Room. It's completely shattered, so you can jump through it, but Leon stops you from doing so. "With all the glass still poking out, I'll check it out."

He jumps to the other side, seeing a bejewelled box sitting on a table. It has four red jewels on top total, two on each side, but the biggest one appears to be missing. He quickly makes the connection, though. Calling out your name, he grabs your attention.

"You still have that shiny red jewel on you?"

Your eyebrows knit together for a second until you realize what he's talking about. Reaching into one of the pockets of your pants, you take out the pretty gem, handing it over to him carefully. He takes it from you and inserts it in its rightful place on top of the box. It clicks and pops open, and you're curious to see what's inside.

Leon raises his brow. "S.T.A.R.S. Badge." He mutters to himself, turning the item around to examine it. There appears to be a slider on the back, which he pushes up, to reveal that it's not just a regular badge, but also a USB dongle key — and he feels a tad disappointed thinking it's useless before his face absolutely lights up.

You frown at the sight. "What're you smiling about?"

He inhales and exhales with a grin. "This right here is the key to that beautiful Magnum upstairs, baby."

That's really good. You need all the weapons you can get right now, especially the best ones. "Okay, good. Anything else in there?"

He looks around, but doesn't see anything, so he shakes his head. "Nope. That was all."

He jumps back over to you. Since you believe to have found everything in the room, you walk out, quickly grabbing the high-grade gunpowder in the locker on your way out.

As you're back in the hallway, you can hear the heavy footsteps nearing. Shit. He's coming your way.

"We should split up. I can get the Magnum, you go into the Records Room with the Club Key." You tell him as you're jogging up the stairs, going through the Waiting Room.

A scowl forms on his face, repulsed by the idea. "Absolutely not."

"But Leon—"

"Stay close to me. You do what I say, when I say it. Everything is fucked up right now so I need you to follow my lead. I got your back. Okay?" He says while you run back into the Main Hall.

"Fine!" You tell him, not in any mood to argue because you just wanna get the fuck out of here.

"Good. Big guy is downstairs, so Magnum comes first."

You two go past the lion statue, the medallions just a long forgotten memory at this point, running back into the Library. From the corner of your eye, you see the bookshelves that still need to be moved, and you stop running.

From the maps you inspected earlier, the Clock Tower is through the door on the third floor, so essentially the second floor of the room here. You move the shelves you can move, but to get them in the right place, you need a jack first.

Which is probably in that one last room you haven't been able to get into before, but you can now with the right key.

Leon has just stepped into the dark hallway when he realizes you're not with him.

It's one of the few times tonight his heartbeat speeds up. He looks behind him, eyes moving rapidly because he doesn't know where you are. "Crap." He mutters to himself. Just when he's told you to stick with him.

Oh, no. You haven't decided to be more stubborn than you already are and go down to the Records Room on your own, right?

No, no, no. He chants it over and over again in his head.

Just when he busted back through the door leading to the Lounge, you bump into him because you were about to follow him into the hallway.

Leon accidentally grabs your arms again in response, just like when you first met earlier tonight at the gas station, and he looks at you worriedly. "What were you doing?"

"I moved the bookshelves."

"The—what?"

"Bookshelves. We need to do that in order to get to the Clock Tower. Since when are you so slow to catch on?"

He scoffs and pushes you forward. "Funny you should bring up being slow, because the big guy heard you moving said bookshelves and now he knows our location, so unless we get going, he's gonna punch us in the face."

Yeah. He's got a point there. You begin to pick up the speed again, and holy shit — you're able to catch just a glimpse of the big man before you quite literally jump into the S.T.A.R.S. Office.

The sound of his footsteps is beyond frightening. He doesn't look human, you're pretty sure he isn't, so what the fuck is he? Why is he here? Why does he only attack you, and not the zombies? Why don't the zombies attack him?

It's all kinds of weird, but you're just gonna have to let it go.

Leon inserts the USB dongle key into the port, then types on the keyboard of the computer to get the door open. The shutter moves out of the way after authenticating the account, and he takes the Magnum from the wall, thankful that you've collected quite the ammo for it already.

Yup. He's ready to start popping some heads.

The big guy is moving past the room you're standing in right as you find a note. 'A letter to S.T.A.R.S. Members' apparently.

It's some guy bragging about girls. You scrunch your nose for a second, raising your brows. "Real charming." You mutter.

Leon looks up at that. "What's that?"

"A letter from some guy. Colleague, I assume. He's gonna have a real blast when he finds out his, and I quote, 'bestest S.T.A.R.S. buds' are all dead." You respond before handing the letter to him, and he takes it, eyes scanning the handwritten words quickly.

Shit. It makes more sense now that he sees the name on the bottom.

Signed Chris Redfield, August 29.

He's heard of Chris before coming here. He's a guy who has been after Umbrella for a while now, so this letter is full of double meanings.

Perhaps more importantly, after reading the last sentence, he's pretty sure the redhead you've met up with at the fire escape is related to him. Sister, probably.

Damnit. He should've tried to kill her somehow. Claire probably knows more than she's let on, so that's something he'll have to keep in mind. Where would she even be right now?

You touch his arm. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah."

Fedora Man seems to be long gone, probably because you've been standing still for a little while.

It's much easier to navigate through the R.P.D. now that you've memorized the layout so well. That's how you know that the quickest way to the Records Room from this office is back through the library, down the stairs, into the west hallway.

So that's the exact route you use. Opening and closing doors makes you so anxious now, because that's when the footsteps begin to near again.

You despise the west hallway the most. It's one of if not the bloodiest place in the station, nearly all the windows are open — but thankfully enough you've boarded some of them up — and it's such a narrow hallway, so there's barely any room to move if you were to get attacked.

There's a licker right above you, so you can't run, as much as you want to, and you try not to make any sounds when the zombies start banging on the wooden boards from the outside again.

Leon wastes no time opening the door with the Club Key. There's some gunpowder on the fax, scattered papers and books all over the floor and you're pretty sure this is the most claustrophobic room you've been in so far.

The two items on the table catch your attention. A grenade and a tool.

Nice.

The tool is the jack you need to move the bookshelves, so that's good. You can finally get that damn power panel part now.

You jump a bit when something bangs on the door. Oh God, a zombie in this small ass room? Leon uses the newly found Magnum to blow the head off, but you hear the footsteps coming closer too. No, no, no...

He enters the room, his stupid hat still on, looking as emotionless as ever. You can't escape through the door behind you, because you're still missing the Heart Key.

"Leon, move!" You tell him as you stand by the table, but he's just standing there, as if you're not about to be brutally murdered by the that stupid wrinkly motherfucker in front of you.

"Three seconds." He tells you.

Just as he's nearly about to get you, Leon just fucking bolts out, taking you with him. He pulls out a flash grenade while going out the door and throws it on the licker so that you that can run away without getting your throat slit.

The man in the suit beside you gives you orders while you run up the stairs of the Main Hall again. "You insert the jack and move the right shelves. I'm gonna go run and get that large gear at the other end. You go into the Clock Tower, stay there until I get there. Understood?"

"I got it." You agree.

For some reason, you want to prove yourself to him. You want to prove that you're capable, that he can rely on you when he needs to. It's no time to fuck around now — you have a job that needs to be done, and if you don't do it quick enough, you will die in this horrible place.

Chapter 7: The Adventures Of Bonnie and Clyde

Summary:

It's time to get up to the Clock Tower and get that second power panel part.

Chapter Text

You enter the Library. It's time to act quickly, and you're determined to make it work. Leon climbs up the ladder while you insert the jack. Moving the shelves takes strength, but you manage to do it just in time.

Tonight is just full of mood swings. You've somehow found new courage because of the fact you have to do everything faster. It's also annoyance that gives you just the right amount of adrenaline and determination you need right now.

Leon notices this and he's feeling the same. He's so fucking done with all the puzzles and the zombies and lickers and the big guy. All he wants is to get down to the lab, take a sample with him and leave this goddamn place.

Once you've moved the shelves, he runs as quick as he can. Going through the door, he notices how dark it is in the hallway. He can see the two lower levels of the Main Hall from up here.

While he needs to go fast, this is still a new area, so he has to remain careful. He cannot slip up just because of this.

He's so lucky to have the exceptional hearing that he has, because that's how he spots the two zombies past the corner just in time to get out the Magnum and shoot them in the head. He hates how it makes so much noise, because the big man definitely knows where you two are now.

As he's nearly at the other side, he finally hears the door and catches a glimpse of you coming out of the Library, running to the door of the Clock Tower.

Good. That's good. You're safe.

He unlocks the storage room from the outside and runs in, immediately going for the large gear since he took down all the zombies earlier tonight anyways. The gear is heavy and makes it harder to run, so he hopes he'll make it in time.

With the gear in hand, he runs back out. You can't help yourself and keep the door open rather than closed, because you want to see where he is.

Fedora Man is walking on the shelves now. You can hear it.

One of the zombies is put down permanently, but the other one is already up and at it again. He can't get his gun out like this, and while you want to help him, you can't take the shot either because you might hit him in the process.

But he doesn't need the help, of course.

He just kicks the zombie so hard that it falls on the floor and uses the gear in his hands to break its skull. It's far from a pretty sight, and you look away quickly, but keep the door open nonetheless.

Uh oh. The door to the hallway has been opened, and you can literally see your biggest enemy going faster once he sees you.

"Leon!" You yell, and he fucking leaps into the room with all the speed he has.

As soon as he's inside, you want to use something to barricade the door, but it doesn't seem to be necessary. The footsteps halt by the door, but weirdly enough, he walks off.

Your eyes turn to the now bloody gear. Leon does the same and looks back at you. "You good?"

"I'm alive." You chuckle, running a hand through your hair. You both made it.

So. The task at hand is to find the power panel part in here. A typed out form catches your eye.

"'Repair Plan.'" You say out loud, quickly reading the sentences. Leon has walked into the space underneath the bell.

"There it is. See that box?"

Following his lead, you step just in front of him, looking up to see a wooden platform with a box on it, just out of your reach. It's the same orange box you collected earlier in the Generator Room. Awfully big box for an electronic part, but at least it gives you the assurance that it hasn't been damaged.

"Right. Yeah. According to the note, the bell is secured because of the yoke. It's threatening to break. I guess the only way to get the power panel part is to—"

"—activate the clock." You both say at the same time, and Leon nods.

"This should go in here, then." He inserts the large gear in the panel near the door, and gears begin to turn all of a sudden with a squeaky sound. And that's not all. At the other side of the room, a staircase is lowered, and you have to admit that you're impressed.

Walking up said stairs, there's another panel which has a much smaller gear lying on top. It doesn't fit there, so you assume it's for the second panel downstairs.

You gesture for Leon to wait here while you go down to insert the small gear into the mechanism. More gears begin to turn, or so it sounds, but you don't really see anything happening.

"Did that do anything?" You call up to him.

He shakes his head, then realizes you can't see it. "Nope. Hey, can you take the large gear out of the first one and take it up here?"

"Yeah. Hold on." You move back to the entrance, taking the gear out.

Damn. You have no idea how the hell Leon managed to run around with this thing so effortlessly, let alone muster the force to lift it up and then shove it down onto the zombie outside.

Yikes. A shiver runs down your spine.

Not wasting time, you take the gear up to him, and he thanks you right before putting it in.

It seems that this did the job, because you hear and see the bell ringing. It swings wildly, knocking the wooden platform and the box off. The yoke breaks just as the note said and falls onto the floor loudly.

"Fucking hell. The big guy definitely heard us now." You groan. There's the footsteps you know but sure as shit don't love — yet there's no door opening. It makes you wonder why he hasn't come in here yet.

The two of you jog down the stairs, finding the box by your feet. Yes. Things are finally going well. All you can think about is how you're nearly out of this hellish place.

"Nice work, Bonnie." He grins, referring to the moments you shared by the showers and near the Machinery Room earlier, and you beam.

Partners. That's what you are.

"Same to you, Clyde."

The time has come for you to return to the jail. You can finally get the key card that your dearest buddy Ben has been holding onto.

You close your eyes for a second. "Quickest way to get back there... let me think—"

"Library, Main Hall, East Office, Watchman's Room, down the stairs to the parking garage. Bob's your uncle." He says. When you frown at the phrase he used, he shrugs. "What? I had a British teacher who said it all the time."

"Whatever you say. Ready to go?"

"More than ever."

Both of you stand by the door, trying to tell where Fedora Man is based on the sound of his footsteps. He's undoubtedly somewhere on this side of the station, but probably not nearby.

You take a deep breath. "Game time."

"We've made it this far. Run for your life and don't look back, yeah?"

"Okay."

And he opens the door, peeking outside before he starts to run, as do you. You follow the exact route he explained to you. Big Man locks eyes with you when you run down the stairs in the Main Hall, and Jesus Christ does he get on your nerves.

"Go, go, go!" He tells you, noticing you accidentally slowing down because of the distraction. His voice pulls you right back to reality, and you speed up again.

The bottom level of the east side fucking sucks. There's zombies everywhere, and they hiss and cry out and make the grossest inhumane noises that scare the shit out of you.

But for now, you'll just have to run past them.

You make it to the stairs by the Break Room, and the big guy finally seems to have given up — or just lost track of you — because you no longer hear any footsteps. You exhale.

"Damn. That was close."

Leon tilts his head. "Yep. Got the power panel parts ready?"

Your eyes widen, opening your hip pouches, frantically searching for them. "Oh, shit—"

"Damnit. Don't tell me you actually—"

He's cut off when you have a shit-eating grin on your face before taking out the two electronic parts. "You mean these?"

"Unbelievable." He rolls his eyes. "Women."

"Oh, please. You're having a ton of fun with me here."

"Whatever makes you sleep at night."

"You wanna know what I think?"

"Not really, but when has that ever stopped you?"

"I think his name is Esteban."

"... what?"

"Wrinkly fucker that's been chasing us the whole time. Fedora. Trenchcoat. Gigantic feet. Big-ass forehead. Ring any bells?"

"... sometimes, just occasionally, Pumpkin, you make me lose my will to live."

"My mission in life."

"So... what other names did you come up with?"

"Captain-No-Fun. Bigfoot. American-Man-On-A-Stick. 'Cause he acts like he's got a stick up his ass which I'm pretty sure we'd be able to see if he'd open his mouth."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

You grin in satisfaction, because you do in fact have a fantastic sense of humor, thank you very much. It's also your coping mechanism.

It's so effortlessly fun to be around Leon as well, even during a situation like this. He constantly either starts to banter with you or joins in. You like him.

It's all laughs and jokes that are exchanged while you walk back to the jail. You march past the thankfully closed cells, bloody arms grabbing at you, but they can't get to you.

Arriving back where you started, you insert the electrical parts into the empty squares on the wall.

It's like a puzzle you have to solve. The two wires on the left side need to be connected to the output on the right in order for the power to turn back on. You notice how the parts can be rotated. Leon quickly gets the hang of it and it makes a little beeping sound, making him smile triumphantly.

The door of Ben's cell automatically opens, much to your pleasure. You both walk in. The sight in front of you still makes you nauseous, it's disgusting.

You look away, taking the key card off the key chain, but Leon seems to have spotted something interesting. There's a voice recorder in Ben's jacket, so he takes it out, curiosity getting the better of him.

Ben's voice begins to crack through the device. Leon holds it to his ear, so you lean towards him because you want to hear it too. "... But that doesn't explain the rumors about the orphanage. I—I just find it way too coincidental Umbrella's one of the benefactors."

Another voice rings through your ears — one you recognize all too well. "You told me this interview was about the new scholarship Umbrella set up."

Annette. Also known as your aunt. It's been a while since you've seen her.

She's a strange woman. Everything but soft, dedicating her life to her career, neglecting her daughter in the process. You know she does care about Sherry, though.

That being said, you're not very close with Annette or William in general, they feel like distant family if anything, but you adore Sherry. She's incredibly sweet and deserves more love than she gets.

"Come on, Annette. Nobody cares about that. They wanna know about the G-virus, and the—"

"Where did you hear about this?"

"—and that big fucking sinkhole in the city which, by the way, rumor has it goes straight to your underground lab. Now, are you going to talk to me or are you—"

"This interview is over."

"... Bitch."

Leon scoffs at the way Ben apparently handled the interview. It's laughable to say the least, but he sure as shit was right. There is indeed a lab underground. Hell, that's where he needs to be.

Yet there's something that keeps repeating over and over in his mind.

Umbrella is one of the benefactors of the orphanage.

From what he knows, the kids in there are young. Very young. If he thinks Ben meant what he thinks the guy meant, the situation is getting very fucked up. Did they actually experiment on kids? Children?

He doesn't want to believe it. If this is true — no, it can't be. It makes him sick to his stomach.

He's more than aware that Umbrella is a company that does things it shouldn't do. He's not naive. Killing people, experimenting on them, doing God awful things. He knows because he's a part of it.

Though as an agent, they tell him very little about anything other than the targets and who he needs to get rid of. He didn't know they were creating a virus that turned people into brainless monsters, so he wouldn't be surprised if they are actually experimenting on kids — but even he has morals. They've faded a lot with the past few years, but he's not a monster.

At least, he hopes he isn't. Is he?

God, he feels like he might throw up. He wants proof. Needs it. If this is true, he's done.

"The lab." Your voice pulls him out of his brief existential crisis. "That's where we need to go. That should be where we can get something useful in all of this, right? A sample? Maybe Sherry is there, too. I hope she's okay."

He feels for you. "If she is, we'll find her."

You nod at him, standing up, only to find a handwritten note with blood on it on the table inside the cell. "Here, this is something he wrote. 'It's not the zombies I'm afraid of. Codename: Tyrant. The ultimate bioweapon, developed by those bastards in the utmost secrecy. To think that thing might be wandering around here... Chances are they've ordered it to wipe out the witnesses.' Well, shit."

He snorts. "I like Esteban better."

You genuinely laugh, the sound wonderfully echoing through the space of the jail. Leon smiles at the sight. "I know, right?"

He picks up the first aid spray in the corner, putting it away with the very little space he's got left. You two need to find more hip pouches soon.

Walking off, it's time to get the hell out of here, but the universe isn't quite done with you yet. An alarm starts blaring, red light reflecting on the walls and the ceiling. "That's not good." Leon states the obvious as you run forward.

Oh God.

Oh God.

All the jail cells have been opened for some fucking reason, and now a whole horde of zombies is coming your way, ready to take a bite out of your neck.

This just might be the most nerve-wracking moment of the entire night. The light above the lever is on now, meaning it should work — so Leon pushes it down, and that's your escape route.

That is, until Esteban makes his return.

He seems to stomp towards you even faster and more menacingly than before. Shit, shit, shit—

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." Leon groans, using the Magnum to shoot him a few times.

"Oh my God, I'm gonna fucking kill that guy. Turn his ass into guacamole. Stir him with his own stick!" You yell out while getting a flash grenade ready.

And it works, surprisingly enough. The tyrant falls to one knee, and he looks like he might be getting up any second again, so you keep running like your life depends on it.

Because it does.

There's about three or four zombies that pop out at the other end of the hallway when you're nearly about to exit the place. You take charge for once and throw a flash grenade at them, which stuns them long enough for you to leave.

The alarm fades out as you move, thankfully out of the jail now, but if you thought you were safe, you're so goddamn wrong that it's almost funny. Almost.

What's less funny is Tyrant busting through the fucking wall, because he's just that kind of guy, staring at you before hoisting you both up in the air by the throat.

Holy mother of Jesus. He's even scarier up close.

You're pretty sure you're gonna choke to death, even Leon is awfully helpless in this situation, but you hear an engine revving in the parking lot. The place lights up from a SWAT truck driving straight at you, but it hits the big guy instead.

You and Leon fall onto the cold concrete, and it hurts your back, but you can only cough out from the huge hand that was just around your throat.

Heels appear in your vision. The trenchcoat, the sunglasses... Ada. "This is getting old. Saving your ass, that's twice."

Leon wastes no time in getting back up again. "Didn't realize you were keeping score." He says just before helping you up.

"Look, this isn't a game!"

The two are interrupted when the truck begins to move again. "How is this fucker not dead yet!?" You ask in frustration, taking your gun out.

Ada only sighs. "Nothing dies down here." Holy hell. The truck straight up explodes, fire emerging from the wreck of it. "I take it you have the key card."

"Yeah, and this." You throw her the device with Ben's recording on it. Leon immediately disapproves of your decision, but he can't exactly do something about it. "I was hoping you could explain what's on it?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. I need to hear it first. Let's open the shutter, shall we?"

You and Leon look at one another before inserting the key card, after which you follow the lady outside.

It's still raining heavily. The water on your face and body is actually refreshing to you. Ada finishes listening to the tape, so your curiosity bubbles to the surface again. "Is that the intel you needed?"

"Unfortunately, no. Ben didn't come through."

"Well, what exactly are you looking for?"

"More info on the people responsible for this mess."

That's still vague. She doesn't seem keen on telling either of you more, so you keep quiet again.

The road's obviously out, so it's not exactly an option to drive off. Noted. Leon points to a gun shop, which is probably the best way to get to the lab and a good place to get some supplies.

Supplies being bullets. And hopefully a grenade or two.

While Ada uses her top-notch FBI skills to unlock the door of said gun shop, you look at your own reflection on a glass window nearby.

There's splatters of blood on your white, long-sleeved shirt, and your jacket is still ripped open on one arm from where the licker hurt you just a while ago. There's a knife strapped to your thigh, over your tight, dark jeans. Your hair still looks fine, surprisingly enough, and you use the rain to make it look less disheveled. Not like you have anything better to do anyways.

The lock clicks, and the three of you walk inside.

The place is a mess, to put it lightly. Shelves that are knocked over, lights cracked and hanging from the ceiling.

You're not sure you even want to know what happened here, but it's not hard to guess.

There's a grenade on a shelf, as well as some ammo on the other side, and Leon finds a long barrel extension for his shotgun. That'll certainly be useful.

Hoping to find more on the other side of the shop, you take a few steps until you hear the sound of a gun cocking. "Don't move."

From the corner of your eye, you see a man standing there with a shotgun pointed right at you.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, I—"

"I said, don't move." He speaks louder this time, and the feeling of having a gun pointed at your head is a whole different level of fear.

Leon hears the encounter from behind the wall and grabs the Magnum before popping out of the corner. "You get that fucking gun out of her face right now." He warns through his teeth, raising his gun.

Ada joins in as well, coming out of the darkness with her dark sunglasses still on. "Drop it." Her voice is ice cold, but you're grateful to have the two of them backing you up.

As soon as movement appears behind the man, he lowers his guard and his gun, and you get your pistol out as well. He's panicking now, with three guns pointed at him.

There's a little girl behind him. A little girl with empty eyes, disheveled hair and barely any movement, save for the twitches of her arms.

Ada focuses her gun on the girl, because it's obvious that she's infected. Your heart aches for her and her father, but you know that she can't be saved anymore.

The man takes a step backwards to protect his daughter. "No, just—wait!"

"Step aside. We need to terminate her before she turns." Ada's voice sounds even colder now.

"'Terminate'?" The man repeats. "That's my fucking daughter."

After Leon pulls you behind him, just in case the guy does take a shot at any of them, he sighs for a second before lowering his gun just a bit. "Ada. Let them be."

His humanity crawls right back under his skin again.

The woman shows her disapproval of the decision, even with her sunglasses on — but does as he says regardless.

"Emma, sweetheart... I told you to stay put." The father says to his daughter, and much to your surprise, the girl actually somewhat responds.

"Daddy...?"

The man moves to kneel in front of her, putting his gun down. "Yeah, Emmie. Daddy's here. I'm here. Okay?"

You unconsciously grab a hold of Leon's arm when you're still standing half behind him, and he lets you. He wants you to stay close to him right now.

The man cries in the rain as he holds his daughter. "Those fuckin' things outside... look at what they did to us. You're a cop. You're supposed to know something—how did this happen!? Huh!?" He pauses for a second, lowering his voice again. "She was our sweet little angel."

Leon finds it difficult to keep quiet. He wants to scream, I'm not a cop. I didn't know this was happening to you. I'm sorry. I want to help.

But he doesn't.

The little girl tries to say something else. "Mommy...?"

The sight in front of you is heartbreaking. "Mommy's sleeping, honey. I'm gonna... put you to bed too, okay? Emma..."

You can barely hold back your tears. This poor man... seeing his family transform into brainless monsters and then having to kill them. It must be the worst feeling in the whole damn world.

He picks his daughter up, turning to you three one last time. "Just go. Give us some privacy." He then uses his gun to slam the door shut.

Silent tears begin to roll down your cheeks. There's a lump in your throat that you're desperately trying to swallow.

As if on cue, you hear a gunshot coming from behind the door.

That's what does it for you.

You're the first one to speak up, weirdly enough. There's a tremble in your voice of both sadness and anger. "We are going down to that fucking lab and get a sample. I can't leave this city without at least trying to do something for all these innocent people that died."

Ada moves to stand in front of you. "My mission is to take down Umbrella's entire operation. We may not make it out."

You've come this far — you have to try. You feel like you owe it to all the people in this God forsaken city.

"I'm in." You tell her with determination, turning your head to Leon. As much as you don't want to say it to him, you do. "You're free to do as you wish. I won't hold it against you if you wanna save yourself."

He shakes his head. "Wherever you go, I go. I've got your back, remember?" He squeezes your hand a little, and you realize you were still holding onto him, your face flushing crimson.

Ada watches you two briefly before pushing the door open as she starts to talk. "Heard of the Umbrella Corporation? They're a pharmaceutical company secretly making bioweapons. They have a virus — it turns people into indestructible monsters."

Yes, Ada, Leon thinks sarcastically, I have heard of the Umbrella Corporation.

"Jesus. The plot thickens." You mutter loud enough for the both of them to hear.

"And that's why I'm looking for Annette Birkin — she's the one at Umbrella responsible for unleashing the virus. I'm going to bring her down."

You debate telling Ada she's your aunt, but eventually decide not to. Maybe she'll start suspecting you too.

The woman in heels walks out front, with Leon in between you two. He seems awfully keen on keeping distance between you and Ada while walking in front of you. As he does, you can't help but start thinking about how alike they actually are.

Both of them are enigmatic, quick-witted, colder than the average human being, and you haven't even started on how their matching outfits make them stick out like a sore thumb.

That, and the fact that they're both incredibly attractive. They'd probably work great as a team, since they both appear smooth, slick with words and professional.

You think Ada is stunning. You're not blind.

For some reason, a wave of jealousy hits you, because you know that even if Leon doesn't trust her, he must find her attractive. Every man likes a confident woman, and Ada has every right to be with how beautiful and capable she is.

It makes you feel a little envious and insecure. You wish you were that confident in your own skin.

Strangely enough, he doesn't even as much as glance at her. Not really. He sure as shit doesn't flirt with her the way he does with you.

Maybe two negatives don't always make a positive.

The three of you move down the wooden construction platforms. "This is how we get to Annette."

"Based on what you've said, the sewer seems fitting."

"Well said. After you."

"Gee, thanks." Leon replies sarcastically, taking the first steps into the sewers.

The smell is less than pleasant. But hey — at least you don't smell rotting bodies and blood anymore. "Can't imagine a real scientist being down here."

Ada shrugs at your comment. "According to HQ, this leads right into Umbrella's secret facility. The company's controlled Raccoon City for years."

You frown. "How the hell did they manage to keep it a secret?"

Leon sighs. "Welcome to corporate America."

As you move into the sewer, a sudden explosion catches you all off guard. "What the fuck was that?"

"Let's just hope it's an earthquake." Ada says, seemingly unfazed by it.

Heading down a smaller tunnel, something very large slithers off at the other side of the passage. And it literally fucking growls.

Oh boy. You don't even want to know what that was.

"What the hell!?"

"Better stay sharp. God only knows what's down here." The lady in heels states, and you feel your heart beating in your damn throat already.

It's a real miracle you haven't died from a heart attack yet.

Heading down the long path, Ada trails behind you, and you find some handgun ammo on top of the barrels. Down the next hall, another loud noise rocks the place. "Again!?"

"It's not too late to turn back, you know."

You shake your head. "You're stuck with me till the end. I'm a bit hard to get rid of."

"That I can confirm." Leon nods, and you punch his arm. "Ow. That hurt. Princess."

"Good."

He snickers, finding the path ends here. It seems necessary to drop into a sewage filled tunnel, and Leon makes a face. So much for the perfume he put on today.

He drops down, managing to at least keep his face and hair clean. "Ugh. This better be the right way."

Ada kneels down. "Unfortunately."

You're ready to jump in next, but with the sound of another explosion nearby, he holds up his arm. "Wait there."

There's two more tremors before a giant mutated alligator appears out of fucking nowhere, and Leon is smart enough to know there's several things in this city that can't be killed with the weapons he has — so he runs.

Ada gestures for you to come after her, as it appears she's found another way around.

Leon quickly notices a pattern, so he runs and dodges just at the right time. He keeps running straight until diving down a slope.

The alligator seems to be stuck just by a flammable pipe, so he gets his gun out and shoots it immediately. The head of the reptile blows up, and it's disgusting, but he couldn't care less right now. "Chew on that. You overgrown son of a bitch."

"Leon, up here!" He hears you call from above, pushing a ladder down for him. He climbs up, but not without grabbing the grenade on top of the mess in the water.

"I'm impressed you made it in one piece." Ada says before turning her back to the two of you. He doesn't respond.

"So, Umbrella sells those monsters to who? Our military?"

"They don't sell the monsters, they sell the viruses that make them. Annette is who makes the viruses. She's far more dangerous than that alligator."

You snort a little. "I bet."

She doesn't spare you another glance. Leon walks out front, pushing an awfully squeaky door open, which leads to a very small room with a table and a typewriter on it. This place is all kinds of weird, and you have no idea where the hell it all leads to.

He then moves to a blue door across from him, revealing the silhouette of a woman sitting down on one knee beside a body. "Definitely William's handiwork..." she mutters.

"Identify yourself." Leon tells her, raising his gun.

Ada enters next. "Annette Birkin."

"Not much time... need to dispose of it." She says, not paying them any mind as she stands up from the floor. God, she looks terrible. Tired, done with everything and in a weird state of shock.

Your female companion doesn't like to waste time. "We're here for the G-virus."

She scoffs. "That's not gonna happen." It's only then she sees you standing there, her facial expression turning into a scowl. "Never thought I'd see you on their side."

Whatever the hell that means, you frown before raising your own gun as well. She's the one making the viruses, so you have no sympathy for her right now.

"The G-virus. Where is it?"

She doesn't respond, so Ada speaks up again. "I'm warning you, doctor."

"Oh yeah?" She asks sarcastically before dropping a lighter onto the body, setting it on fire.

She runs off, past the corner, and you run after her, only to hear the whizzing of bullets around you. Leon quickly jumps in front of you, getting shot in his shoulder in the process.

Ada tries to shoot her, but a large, steel door closes and shields her. "You'll never get the G-virus!"

The two of you sigh after she's gone from your sight. "Didn't expect that from a scientist."

Leon groans out in pain. His white dress shirt is slightly turning red, his face pale. "Fuck." He huffs out in pain and then passes out before he knows it.

Ada evaluates the situation, kneeling down beside him just after you do.

"Listen to me." She says, locking eyes with you, and you notice her sunglasses are gone. Oh. She's even prettier now. "If the bullet isn't that deep, you'll have to try to get it out. Are either of you carrying any alcohol?"

You shake your head, and so she unbuttons Leon's vest, revealing a very thin hip flask inside. It's full, judging by the weight of it. "Use this to clean the wound. I have some bandages, but it might not be enough to cover everything. In that case, I'd advise you to take it from the bottom of your shirt, it seems like the fabric will rip easily. I'll give him my coat. It's for the best if he stays warm."

It takes a little while to process everything she's said, but you nod and keep it all in mind. "Okay."

She takes off her coat, and holy shit — she's wearing the tightest red dress underneath, hugging all of her features perfectly.

Damn. You're a bit jealous of the body she has.

"Stay with him. He should wake up soon."

"Alright. Thank you."

She doesn't respond and grabs a small, unfamiliar device. "Secret weapon time." She grins, using it to divert the power, or so it seems.

As she climbs up the ladder, you call out to her a last time. "Ada! Be careful."

Even if she doesn't say anything, she nods at you before disappearing. You exhale deeply, looking at the man lying unconsciously in front of you.

Your hands begin to tremble a little when you realize what you're about to do. You're not some medical expert, so you'll have to do it with the given instructions and basic knowledge.

The first thing you take off is his red tie. Your gaze keeps flicking back to his face, because now you can look at him without him catching you staring, even though you know you have to focus now.

He's so utterly handsome. It makes your heart skip a beat.

The grey vest and white dress shirt follow quickly. You stare at his chest for maybe two seconds before moving on to the wound. Your only priority right now is saving this man's life.

As weird as it may sound, something that calms you down right now is talking to yourself as you inspect his wound. "You better live through this, Kennedy." You mutter under your breath. "None of this will be worth it if you don't make it out alive with me."

So you anxiously begin to remove the bullet in his shoulder, because you'll be damned if you don't manage to save him.

Chapter 8: Once Upon a Nightmare

Summary:

It's time to explore the uncharted area that is the sewers.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Leon finds himself waking up in the home he grew up in. A small smile appears on his face when he looks at the height measurements on the wall and the notes left for him on the fridge.

His old home is a place holding both good and bad memories. He lived there until he was sixteen, probably. It feels like so long ago.

The light shining through the windows suddenly becomes completely dark. "Look at what you've done. You failed all of us. Me, your mother, your sister. Why couldn't you be happy with what you had?"

He turns around at the echoing voice of his father, but sees no one. Not even as much as a shadow or a silhouette. He walks towards the sound, carefully walking around because there's no lights on.

The wood creaks. There's someone banging against the door, and fully against his gut feeling, he opens it, walking into some sort of dimly lit art gallery you'd find in a museum — and behind the glass, he sees his mother and father caught up in an argument, ending up with his father getting his suitcase and leaving. All of that within a few seconds of loud noises and cries and whispers. It hurts his head, and he reaches for his head in pain.

The next one involves his mother dying. He remembers how he sat by her grave, bawling his eyes out. It was the worst thing that had happened in his whole life, and it still hurt.

"Mom..." He says with wide eyes, trying to abandon the memory.

The last one is him coming home from school one day, finding a letter and a pile of cash on the kitchen table. The day his father left.

It's a memory that still gets on his nerves. He still hates him for it. He's not even sure the man is still alive anymore.

Outside the window, he sees bubbles, realizing he must be underwater. A few cracks begin to form in the glass. Past the corner, he looks at the younger version of his little sister sitting in a glass cage, hiding her head behind her arms.

"Sarah?" He asks, getting closer to the glass and leaning down. "I'm gonna get you out of here, okay?"

She locks eyes with him and touches his hand through the glass, and he does the same — but suddenly the water floods into the room, and he's pushed backwards into the floor, the wood breaking before he falls into the water.

It's like his body is numb. He can't move, why can't he move? What's happening? He can feel himself sinking away from the surface.

He's suddenly being grabbed by your warm hands, and you have a reassuring look on your face before you move to kiss him.

His hands move to your cheeks, and it all goes so slowly because you're still underwater, until he feels a stinging pain everywhere in his body — his chest, his legs, his arms. The current coming from God knows where pulls you away from him, and your hands nearly reach each other, but it's just not enough.

The noise of water around him, as well as muffled screams, cries and arguments begin to pile up until it seems like he's lost it.

That's when he wakes up.

He wakes up a bit disoriented, eyes fluttering open slowly. He looks around, trying to make out where he is, because he doesn't remember going to sleep.

The moment he feels a small sting in his shoulder, he remembers what happened. Confronting Annette Birkin, Ada demanding a sample of the G-virus, him taking a bullet for you—

You.

Where did you go? Surely you didn't go with Ada, right? He doesn't want you walking around this place with someone like her — though said thoughts come to a halt real quick when he looks down.

You're asleep in his lap, your breathing steady with your warm hands holding onto his thigh like it's a pillow. The sight is heartwarming, making him feel all gross and warm and fuzzy inside. Fuck.

He moves his hand to stroke your hair a few times and chuckles when you sigh contently in your sleep.

It pains him, because as much as he wants to let you sleep, you have to get up. You need to move and catch up to Ada before she gets away with a sample of the G-virus.

It's so wrong of him, but he's so tempted to kiss you. Hell, he's been tempted to kiss you the whole night already — part of him wonders why he hasn't yet.

To be fair, the fact that you can get bitten in the ass any moment is a valid reason.

He gently calls out your name. "Hey. Time to wake up."

When you're met with the familiar bright blue eyes and pretty face you've grown way too attached to, you smile and touch his chest and arms in enthusiasm. "Leon! Oh God, you're alive! I thought I killed you when I took that bullet out."

He chuckles. "You removed the bullet?" You reach behind you proudly, holding it up in the air. A nod of his head shows how surprised he is. "Impressive."

"Are you okay? How's the pain? I didn't need to use all the alcohol in your flask, so I guess you could drink some of it and hope it eases the pain."

"Alright. 'M not sharing, though. You're too young." He says while grabbing the hip flask, knocking it all back in one go.

You raise your brow. "Is this the part where you tell me you're an alcoholic?"

"I don't drink that often."

"Said every alcoholic ever."

"As if you're such a saint."

"Compared to you, I am."

"How often do you drink then, huh? You're the college student."

"Only at parties, really."

"Well, at least I'm legally an alcoholic."

"As if you didn't drink before twenty-one."

"Never said I didn't."

"Tch. I bet you were one of those guys who already drank in their freshman year in high school."

He's appalled by the insinuation. "For your information, I was a very well-behaved teen. Well, for the most part." He adds, diverting his attention from you.

You frown when he doesn't say anything else. "What does that mean? What'd you do?"

"Nothing worth discussing, pretty girl."

"Seriously?" A huff of frustration escapes your mouth. "I hate you sometimes."

"No you don't." He grins, putting the now empty flask away. "If you did, you wouldn't have patched me up. Then again, maybe all you wanted was to see me undressed, hm?"

Instead of denying it, you just go with it. "Yeah, you're right. I was just too busy trying to literally take a bullet out of your skin without killing you to stare at your abs."

"I'm so proud."

"You better be." You chuckle before turning a bit more serious, even if you didn't want yourself to. "Wouldn't know what to do without you."

The sentence comes out quietly, and you hope he didn't hear it, but of course he did. His eyes almost turn bigger, softer, and he strokes your hair while you sit on your knees in between his legs, leaning on your arms. "Thank you. For doing all that."

"I should be saying that to you. You took a bullet jumping in front of me."

"I'd do it again."

"Please don't. I want you to live."

"Too bad. I've got a bit of a savior complex." He jokes, and you smile, feeling so genuinely relieved that the beautiful man in front of you is alive and well. "C'mon. We got work to do, don't we?"

"Unfortunately."

He hums. "So, where did Miss FBI go?"

"After Annette."

Damn. He was afraid you were gonna say that. Ada is highly intelligent, he knows that much, and she works awfully smoothly — so you two need to hurry the hell up if you wanna beat her to it. He rolls his eyes, huffing before he lets his head back against the wall. "Ugh. I wish I had more vodka."

"Alcoholic!"

He snickers when you put your finger up, swallowing for a second, making his adam's apple bob. "'M sorry, mommy, I promise I won't drink anymore tonight." He mocks you, playfully leaning in.

"Don't call me that. It makes me feel weird."

"Which is the one reason why I do it."

"One out of two, I bet." You tell him as you're getting up from the floor, dusting off your clothes. "Didn't peg you for a guy with mommy issues. Especially didn't think you'd be into calling me that either, but here we are."

"What can I say? I'm full of surprises."

He doesn't deny having said issues, but it irks him. He hopes you know he just likes calling you that because he finds it hot for some reason — not because of his dead mother.

Yikes. He wants to think about something else now.

He considers telling you he's got daddy issues as well, just familial issues really, but he lets it go. Back to business.

You stretch out your hand to help him get up, and surprisingly enough, he takes it. All the guns are stashed on the floor, and you're ready to gear up. He takes Matilda, the Magnum and the shotgun, whereas you just take the handgun. There's two knives on your belt, so both of you are good to go.

The lift across from you appears to be working now, much to your pleasure, since the ladder Ada used to get out has blown up. Looking back at the room you just spent God knows how much time in, you two take the lift up, seeing stairs, a typewriter and another box.

Moving down, Leon shrugs to himself before jumping down into the water. He looks at you still standing up there. "Sometime today, Princess?"

"You can't criticize me for not wanting to jump into a sewer."

"No, you're right, you'd rather get eaten instead."

You glare at him with your hands on your hips and he does the same with a smirk on his face. Sighing out, you jump down, making sure your hair and face don't get wet from the dirty water. It's the last shred of dignity you're desperately trying to hold onto. "Pleasant smell."

"Why this? What the fuck does the universe have against me? I can handle being covered in blood, but not this. It's disgusting! Ugh." You ramble to yourself under your breath, trying not to think about all the things you're stepping on in the water.

Leon turns to you. "Was that all?"

A sigh leaves your mouth. "Yeah. Sorry."

"If we move quickly, we should be out of here in no time. Then we can finally get a shower."

"And eat. You did ask me out on a date, after all."

"After which I recall you rejected me."

"I'm sure you'll have asked me again by the time we make it out of here."

"So you're really just playing hard to get, huh?"

"Am I? Who knows." You nudge his arm, shrugging as if you're innocent. He rolls his eyes while ensuring Matilda is fully loaded.

The sewers is a completely new area, and it shouldn't be as crowded as the station is — but he doesn't feel like taking risks.

The waterway in front of you splits in two, and you find some handgun ammo among the sewage, weirdly enough.

Then again, everything that's happened to you so far tonight has been weird.

Leon gestures for you to wait when he checks out the left path, seeing it's a dead end. He returns with some shotgun shells though, so that's good. You continue by going down the path on the right, and you get out of the water again by jumping onto the surface.

Walking up the stairs, you find three dead men in heavy combat gear. The sight certainly isn't pretty, there's a lot of blood, yet it's become so normal to you at this point.

One of them seems to be holding onto a digital video cassette for some reason. You pick it up, reading the words on the front out loud. "'Operation Nestwrecker'. That sounds fun."

Leon only hums as you take the item with you, hoping to find a cassette player somewhere so he can watch whatever's on it.

He's quick to react when a zombie in a dark blue uniform comes stumbling from the other side of the corner, only needing a single shot of the Magnum to blow up another head.

How many times has he done that already? Jesus. He needs more of that ammo.

The two of you carefully tread up the final stairway, which seems to lead to a room just above the waterway you climbed out of.

On the right is a door that clearly leads to the Treatment Facility.

Was it really necessary to put it on the door and above the lock?

You roll your eyes. All those citizens of Raccoon that turned... you can't start criticizing them over this stupid shit now.

Sanity. C'mon, keep it together.

Shaking your head to yourself, you turn to your handsome friend-turned-partner-in-crime-turned-crush, who looks at you a tad bewildered. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Eh. Peachy."

He snorts, moving on to check out the rest of the room. From what he can see, there's two more zombies. One is a fat guy sitting down with his back against the wall, the other is standing at the other side of a walkway, seemingly dormant.

He tilts his head at the sight. He'll take what he can get.

There's an electronic part in the box on the wall that looks an awful lot like a chess piece. The head of it is shaped like a rook, so that's interesting.

While he checks out the door on the left, which turns out to be very locked from the other side — naturally — you get the marvelous idea to take the plug out of the box.

The walkway appears to be a platform of some kind. It lifts up as soon as you take the plug out, surely it will go back down when you put it in again.

You shoot the zombie that fell from some overhead pipes with a loud thud, wasting some bullets because your aim still sucks — but it's an improvement. Besides, the zombie drops to the floor, so you're more than content for now.

Leon nudges your side. "Good job."

"Thank you, sir." You tell him with a huge smile on your face, bowing before him with exaggerated hand movement.

He puts the plug back in so you can properly walk over it again. Leon grabs his shotgun, sneaking up from behind the zombie still just standing there, getting a good shot in.

With another door leading to the Treatment Facility, which you do not have the key for, the only option you have is to go down the stairs. There's a knife on top of a barrel, which you happily take with you. This has to be one of the Lower Waterways, but you're afraid to see where you'll end up.

After getting into the water, it doesn't take either of you long to realize that the only thing you can do is go down. On a slope. In the dirty water.

You huff out in frustration. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Your voice is awfully high pitched in desperation for something, anything good to happen to you.

Leon nods, pursing his lips. "Nope."

"Is there really no other way?"

The corners of his mouth curl upwards. He grabs your hand before you can protest — other than yelling out his name with a gasp — and you slide down the slope, both of you managing to push yourself off just before going all the way underwater so your face remains somewhat clean.

He just stares you in the eye as if nothing is wrong. Unbelievable. You turn to him with a glare, and he did not expect you to look as angry as you do, but remains just the same under your gaze. "... what the actual fuck!?"

"There was no other way."

"You could've given me a little warning!"

"Yes, I could've."

"God, I hate you."

"Please. I know you love me."

"Yeah, right. Absolutely head over heels for you. Asshole." You retort sarcastically, punching him on the arm as you say the last word.

He smiles a bit, feeling for you during your clear existential crisis, so he steps closer to you. "Alright, alright, c'mere."

You frown when he moves his hand to your face, gently grabbing your chin. Eyes widening, you just let it happen, feeling his plump lips on your cheek.

The gesture is alarmingly intimate for the both of you, but especially him. What is he doing? He keeps losing himself in this little thing you two have going on rather than focusing his mission.

Yet he can't find it in himself to care.

You're not sure whether to be happy or disappointed with it. He touched you in a way you've been aching for all night, but now you want more.

After he withdraws his face slowly, he smirks like the sly fuck that he is, and you blush wildly. He's so incredibly handsome and charming.

Ooh, boy. He knows just what to do to you to make you blush, so you attempt to hide your face. "Cute." He chuckles, the sound low and so sexy that it should be illegal.

It's unbelievable. Seriously. You're all flustered because a man in a suit kissed you on your cheek while standing in a sewer.

"Well, uh... we should—we should keep going."

"Indeed."

You begin to walk in the water again. On the left is a ledge you can climb up on, but you don't because the only way through is by inserting a certain tool, which you also don't have.

So you keep going, but then stop dead in your tracks when you hear weird moaning sounds. They sound more monstrous than the ones that the zombies make, but you don't see anything.

Leon looks at you, frowning, but keeps walking regardless. The path in front of you diverges once again, but the left side is barred, so you have to take the right path. He doesn't miss the high-grade gunpowder and shoves it in his pocket.

You tap on his arm when you spot a weird-looking fleshy mass in the water, but you're already too close. A huge creature pops out to the surface, grabbing you, opening this really ugly maggot-filled maw in an attempt to take a chomp out of you.

Luckily for you, you've had some training.

Shoving a grenade into its mouth seems to stun him. Leon opts for the shotgun and shoots the thing twice before a giant pulsating eye appears, something you've grown familiar with at this point, aiming at it and shooting before backing up when the creature begins to flail around.

It drops back into the water, so you think you've defeated him. For now, at least. "No breakdowns. Nope. We're good. You good?" You ask, and he nods.

"Peachy." He mimics you, and you breathe out in relief.

It seems like the right time to continue your way through the sewer, getting up on another ledge, which leads to — surprise surprise — stairs.

As you jog up, you look to your right. "Cable car? Interesting."

It has Umbrella's logo on it, so you have a feeling that thing is your ticket to the lab. Good. This is good — you've got a solid goal now.

You head up the ladder at the end of the stairway. The room you walk into is empty, thankfully enough, and you find some shotgun shells on a chair in a corner. On a table lies a copy of emails to Umbrella HQ.

As you read it, you begin to frown. It says NEST is contaminated. You have a feeling that's the codename for the lab — it has to be.

Handing the sheet over to Leon, he scans the words quickly. "Everyone in the lab is dead. Or undead."

You let out a sigh. "I know it was stupid and naive of me, but... I still had hope that we would at least meet a single alive person. Even the people who possibly knew more are dead."

He notices how you look away from him, lowering your head. God, he feels bad. It's not like he knows anything about the virus spreading to the city — all he knows is that Birkin fucked up and needs to be put down.

He shakes his head, putting his arm on your shoulder. "Not stupid. Maybe a bit naive, but not stupid." He adds playfully, and you chuckle lightly before shaking it off and moving on.

There's a dial-locked locker in the room as well, because imagine something not being locked in this godforsaken place.

What a joke.

Jumping down a broken lift on the left side of the lockers, you land in a seemingly safe room, but there's loud growling in the distance. Because of the noise, you tread carefully, trying to make as little sound as possible.

The two of you look at each other. "I don't like the sound of that." Leon says before you go on to take a look through the glass, which overlooks something that appears to be the garbage disposal room.

However, in the garbage is something that catches your eye. Something red — and it's not Ada's dress.

It's a red hairband sitting on top of the little girl's small head, in between the strands of light blonde hair.

"What the fuck?" You mutter to yourself when you spot her. "Sherry?"

In the space filled with garbage, the little blonde girl sits in the middle, burying her face in her hands. She's crying, yet also talking to someone, which you faintly hear through the glass.

"You should've called the police! That's what we taught you." You hear Annette saying through the speakers. What the hell is going on? Why is she locking up her own daughter?

"I did, but nobody came, and you didn't answer your phone, so—"

"Sherry, I don't have time for this!"

It becomes silent in the room filled with garbage, save for Sherry's silent sobs.

As if it wasn't possible for your heart to break any more tonight.

"Oh my God, Sherry, I'm gonna get you out of there." Your voice breaks halfway through, and you feel like crying, but no tears come out. Your eyes are awfully dry, yet there is a borderline painful lump forming in your throat.

Leon sees how much you care for her. He's willing to attempt saving her, just for you — although he would've probably even saved her if you weren't with him. He wouldn't leave a kid in a place like this.

Something you then both notice is how she's twitching a little bit.

No. No.

She can't be infected. That's the one, the only thing you just cannot handle tonight. All these people you don't know turning into the living dead is one thing, but your own cousin? A child? Just having to see Leon shoot Marvin and Elliot was bad enough.

You've seen Annette. She has access to the lab — maybe she can treat her. Somehow. You don't know.

"Hey!" Leon's sudden voice snaps you out of your trance. He's been calling your name for a while, gently at first, but he needs you to focus. For your own sake, his, and Sherry's.

"What!?" You spit back impulsively before calming down and apologizing. "Sorry."

He shakes his head. "The clock is ticking. If we wanna save that girl somehow, we have to move. But I need you to keep your focus. One slip-up and we're dead."

You nod. "Yeah. I know, I'm sorry."

"It's okay." He tells you, momentarily putting his hand on your back. He doesn't like being so harsh to you, but sometimes it's necessary.

There's some handgun ammo on a coffee table that you take with you, as well as a map hanging on the wall. Other than that, there's a typewriter, some letter from a company called Knights Constructions and a video cassette player. Oh, right, the tape!

The TV next to it displays a glitch at first. Someone cries out for the attacker in the tape to stop, with gunshots firing in the background. "Over here, you freak!" You hear one of them say. The creature in the video, which looks an awful lot like your uncle, grabs a case that look like samples — and you begin to fear that they're all samples of the virus that turned everyone here into indestructible monsters.

Your body shivers. You hate it here.

The tape isn't finished yet, though. Some of the samples fall on the floor, the glass cracking which caused the remnants of it to attract rats. They consumed the samples... shit. So that's what must've caused the outbreak.

As if he can read your mind, he mentions it. "The virus... I bet those rats spread it."

"Yeah. Makes sense." You say before moving on to the smaller part of the room, which shows a locked door that's clearly heavy and impossible to get through without the right tools for it.

The right tools for it are... fucking chess pieces.

Chess plugs, to be exact.

There's only three plugs here, so you have to find the remaining three to get to Sherry. You know one of the plugs is back at that platform near the Treatment Facility, but that leaves two others of which you don't know the location.

An idea pops up in your head.

You grab the map and spread it out in front of you, on the table. "Okay, so our objective is to find the plugs. There's one on this side by the Treatment Facility, so then there's two more. The map says there's a Supplies Storage Room over here, which you can reach by going through the Bottom Waterway. I'm willing to bet that there's at least one more plug there. What I also think is that there has to be a connection between the sewers and the station."

"Why's that?"

"Everything here seems to connect to the station. Just like the parking garage, that Secret Room under the statue — I mean, we're underneath it, right?"

He sees the way you point at everything on the map. You're mad focused, getting down to business, and he likes it.

He crosses his arms, nodding at everything you've told him so far, because it does all make sense. "Alright. What do you have in mind?"

Biting your lip, you let out a sigh while turning to the handsome man in the suit. "I think we should split up."

Okay, no. Forget it. He does not like you being this down to business.

"No. Absolutely not." The words leave his mouth fast, too fast, but he won't have it. Splitting up? In a place like this? Unfamiliar territory? Have you lost your mind?

"Leon—"

"Do I need to remind you what's outside of this room?"

"Zombies. Lickers. Those weird eyeball dudes in the sewers. A wrinkly ass giant wearing a fedora. My uncle in the form of a constantly mutating monster. And worst of all... bugs."

"... bugs?"

"The smaller ones are the worst."

He inhales sharply. "Doll, I swear to God, you go out there on your own, you will die." He feels like he needs to be a bit of an ass right now, but it's for your own good — yet at the same time he doesn't have the heart to do it.

"I've made it so far, mind you."

"We've made it so far. We. In the plural."

"You know you can be a bit of an asshole sometimes?"

"I do. Call it being realistic. And right."

You inhale sharply. "Leon, I have a handgun with plenty of ammo, two knives and two flash grenades."

"It's too dangerous."

"Everything we've done so far has been too dangerous! Going to find them together would be wasting time." He still doesn't seem even the slightest bit convinced. You scoff. "Look, three hours ago, I was scared shitless at the sight of a zombie. Right now, I'm not scared, — okay, that's not true, maybe a little — I'm just goddamn pissed. I wanna get the fuck out of here and save my cousin and I will cut a bitch if I have to. I got this. Please, just let me."

He knows you're stubborn, he knows you're not gonna drop this, and he tries to look angry when you bat your lashes and make your eyes look bigger, but he can't. Damnit. You and your power over him. "Fine. Only on one condition."

"What?"

The sentence comes out way more heartfelt and softer than intended. "Come back to me. Alive."

He knows one thing, and that's that he cannot handle you turning into a zombie. He can't. He feels like he'll shoot himself when that happens, and it scares him — because he's only known you for a few hours yet he's grown this attached to you.

What the fuck is happening to him? How the hell did you manage to worm your way into his head and his heart in such a short span of time?

He doesn't know the answer.

"Reload everything you have. Now." He demands, and you do. He hands you all the knives he's got left, as well as one grenade, because you'll most likely need it more than him.

The thing is that you have one gun and he has three. Giving you Matilda wouldn't really be that useful to you, but the shotgun and Magnum are a bit too powerful for someone with barely any experience, so he puts his trust in you making it out alive with all those sub weapons.

He unintentionally stands close to you, and he considers kissing you. He wants it so bad, having to physically restrain himself, but he doesn't want you to be distracted for some reason.

Before he knows it, you've wrapped your arms around him. "You better be careful too. I know you can handle yourself and this doesn't mean much to you coming from me, but—"

"It does." He interrupts you. Even if he knows he'll be fine, it matters to him. You want him to be safe. "I'll be okay."

His heart warms at the thought.

"I know. But still." You tell him, and he nods.

"As soon as you're done, you come straight back to this room. No detours unless it's absolutely necessary. If I'm not here yet, just wait. Okay?"

"Alright."

"Stay out of trouble."

"Yes, Dad." You mock him because of how overprotective he's being.

"Not too late to turn back, ya know." He says, secretly hoping you'll change your mind, but he knows you won't.

You shake your head. "C'mon Leon, you know me better than that."

Nodding at you, he reloads his gun. "Unfortunately I do."

Both of you agree on the plan. You will go to the Supplies Storage Room, he's gonna go and get the other plug as well as explore the rest of the place, hopefully finding a way back to the station in the progress.

Before you part ways, though, you go through the door and lower the platform. You just want to check out that cable car.

There's a red tool there. The two of you remember all the T-bar handle slots you've already passed here in the sewers, so that will certainly come in handy.

Moving to stand in front of the door of the cable car, you see that access to it is declined. "ID wristband required for cable car entry." A female, robotic voice speaks.

ID wristband? Where the hell are you supposed to get that?

Who knows. Shrugging it off for now, because that wristband is a problem for later, you move to a door with an exit sign right above it.

As you jog down the narrow stairway, you hear the growling of zombies again. Before you're even fully down yet, Leon has already whipped out his shotgun, blowing apart the two zombies waiting for you. It's incredible how fast he always acts, though not in an impulsive way — he's a quick thinker who manages to evaluate his options and choose the right one in a split second.

In all honesty, you aspire to be like him in many ways.

He grabs the herb, hands it to you and goes on to the left. There's a T-bar valve there, so he inserts the tool again and uses it to lift the blue door blocking the way.

You walk over the bridge, finding a particular looking key hanging on the wall, which he grabs. "I'll take this. I doubt you need a key for the Storage Room."

Nodding, you look at the ladder. You made a mistake thinking the Bottom Waterway was just going to be filled with sewage — it looks like... flesh? Whatever it is, it looks disgusting, and you feel your chances of survival lowering with every step you take.

Taking a deep breath, you pat him on the shoulder. You actually really wanted to hug him or kiss him on the cheek, but didn't want to appear too clingy, so you settle for what you gave him as well as an apologetic smile.

"Be careful."

"I will." You tell him, and he also takes a deep breath before moving back to where he just came from, since he needs to go into the other direction for the other plug.

He goes back to where he shot the two zombies, pushing down the lever to lift the bars, but not without taking the grenade lying in between the garbage.

The water is disgusting, drenching his suit with God knows what, but he has to go through it.

It's all a little too quiet here, anyways.

He feels the most scared he's felt the entire night. He tries not to think about it, he tries not to worry, but he does.

The zombies and the lickers are already bad enough, but now that he knows you're walking around here, on your own — it terrifies the living shit out of him.

He can't believe he got so attached to you in a span of a few hours. He feels like some lovesick teenager who wants to profess his love to a girl.

Jesus, he's even lost track of his mission throughout the night. Lie, betray, kill, steal. That's what he's come here to do.

Instead, he's walking around, aching for you to come back to him. You were wary of him in the beginning, even a little shy, but as you spent more time together, you loosened up — and so had he.

He's so used to being cold. You just have to be in a business like this, but there's something about you that just... pulls him away from that cold version of him. He likes your banter, your sarcasm and stubbornness... and he's so fucking attracted to you. How could he not be?

He curses himself. Please be okay. I want to see you again.

Sadness hits him, but not for long, because something else grabs his attention.

Leon squints when he sees a silhouette moving from the corner of his right eye. There's many things to be feared in the sewers, but he doesn't — though there is something that he is somewhat afraid of.

Teenage girls.

They're weird and hard to decipher, and they either cry waterfalls or appear to be colder than his fucking freezer. They're impulsive and want to see the world burn, and have the power to actually pull it off.

That's partially why he's so surprised you still haven't figured out he's not one of the good guys here. He's genuinely afraid of the moment you will, because he knows it's gonna come sooner or later and God help him when it does.

But he can deal with all of that later, because right across from him stands another teenage girl, whose face is all too familiar to him.

Claire.

Notes:

As brief as it was, I liked hinting at Leon's backstory! Not much is known about canon Leon in terms of how he grew up so I created that myself for this fic. We'll get into that a bit more in future chapters!

Chapter 9: Two Sides of the Same Coin

Summary:

You and Leon have split up in the sewers to go find the remaining three plugs.

Chapter Text

You begin on your own little journey as you walk through the water in the Lower Waterway.

There's a dead body with a green herb sitting next to it, and you're about to grab it — even though you've undoubtedly collected plenty of them already — until something quite literally pops out of the dead guy's chest. Some kind of parasite. Yikes.

"Ew, ew, ew." You chant as if it will change anything, moving up to climb onto the first ledge you can find. There are even more chest-bursted corpses up on the left of the surface, and you're pretty sure you're gonna vomit soon if this shit gets worse.

Whatever it is you're standing on, it's red, slimy, like flesh — beyond disgusting. You walk forward to jump into the water at the other side.

"Why did I have to be heroic? Why? Why couldn't I stay with Leon? He's smart. Oh God, I'm gonna die. And I didn't even get to kiss him. Why am I such a pussy?" You grumble to yourself.

Talking to yourself. Right. Yeah, that last part of sanity you were holding onto is just gone at this point. Fucking nowhere to be seen.

There's something in the water in front of you, and if it is what you think it is...

Taking your pistol out of your holster, your hands are trembling. You can't aim properly like this. "Steady now..."

You tell yourself to remember what Leon taught you. Lean a bit forward, grip it tightly. You try to regain your calm before taking a single shot.

It's another one of those monsters with a huge eyeball. It's way too big to avoid, so you know you have to take it down one way or another.

You shoot the eyeball — luckily enough it's so big that it's hard to miss any shots. After you've shot about twenty bullets into the eye, the one big arm whirls around before dropping into the water.

You're ecstatic. While it took a load of bullets, you managed to take the monster down, so you're satisfied.

This is good. You're making progress, getting closer to that red light that shines so brightly you could see it from the bridge you stood on just minutes ago.

But the thing is that this place sucks.

Raccoon City, the one place that tests your will and ability to survive with each passing minute!

In all honesty, you want to laugh and cry at the same time, because another one of those monsters is in front of you. And you've only taken like what, five steps? It's ridiculous. Insanity. Beyond stupid.

Yeah. The sewers are officially the worst place you've ever been to.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" You grit your teeth when it grabs you, but you put a grenade into the arm lifting you in the air. You shoot a few times, trying to be a bit more careful with ammo this time, because who knows how many more of them you'll have to encounter.

The ugly creature probably seems to notice you're just not feeling it — hey, maybe it's having a shit day itself — so it drops into the water, apparently defeated. That was much easier than the first one.

You don't intend to waste any more time, so you move, but trying to walk fast while in water absolutely sucks. You're nearly there, nearly there, when a third one lurches out from a huge sewer pipe on the right wall.

No, no. Nope. You'll deal with that one later.

Dashing left, you pull yourself up on the ledge of the platform and push the door open carefully.

If that thing follows you in here somehow, you're dead. But you don't have the time to worry about it, because there's something you need to do first.

Check out the room.

If the plugs aren't here, you're gonna scream. All that ammo would be gone for nothing, and a mistake like that could cost you your life.

Don't think about it. You try to tell yourself to keep calm, but damn is it hard.

After taking a breath, you walk up the stairs.

The Supplies Storage Room is dark, with very few light sources. The only thing you hear is your own footsteps as you walk on the top floor. It echoes through the quiet room, and it makes you feel like you're in the kitchen at night, trying to eat something quietly without having your relatives waking up and catching you.

On your right is a shelf of boxes with a red herb stashed on it. You take it with you and jog down the stairs again with another stash of shelves with boxes to your right and a sealed gate in front of you.

Something needs to be inserted into an electronic box to open it — it looks exactly like the other box you saw by the platform, which is where one of the plugs is located. The one Leon hopefully has in his possession at this point.

As you get closer to the box, you try to read the text, but it's a bit difficult with your eyes still getting used to the darkness.

'King Plug. Please insert the appropriate plug.' It says. That makes sense.

Turning to the other direction, behind the stairs, one of the gates is open. You travel through it and see that it's open because there's a plug in it.

Naturally, you pull it out. You have to take it with you, after all, though with all those sealed gates, it won't be easy. On your right, you look to the firearm on the wall that is lit up as if God himself put it there for you.

But you're no expert. You have no idea what the hell it is or how it works. It kind of looks like Leon's shotgun, but different. You shrug to yourself and walk to the left, because that's the only way you can go.

You find yourself in front of another sealed gate, which can be opened with the Queen plug. Obviously you have to leave it in, otherwise you can't go any further than this.

So you continue to walk in the dark, quite literally getting the biggest heart attack so far when something falls on top of you, and you trip.

Oh God. Oh God, a zombie just fell down. Thankfully enough, you manage to shove a flash grenade into its mouth before pushing it off and backing up.

The flash lights up the room and the sound rings through your ears, but you shoot its head nonetheless, and you must be in luck for once because the head blows up. It's the best thing ever.

For the gate that gets you access to the gun on the wall, you need the King Plug, but you can't exactly get it right now. You travel up a stairway again and enter the room at the top to find the King plug inserted in the box here.

After you take it out, the gate closes immediately and you decide to hop down, because that should get you back to the other plug.

You land surprisingly well, initially thinking it was really going to hurt your ankles. It takes you back to where you were a minute ago, seeing the Queen plug inserted and the zombie on the ground.

You move to the gate at the end again and insert the King plug.

Yep. That is one nice-looking gun. How does it even reload?

Unaware how you did it, you managed to open up the barrel, seeing something round inserted in it. That should be ammo, right? Yeah.

Okay. Back to work. You got the gun, now you need to take the plugs and get back.

So you return to remove the King plug, as well as the Queen plug, then you move around to insert the latter again into the box where you first found it. That gives you the opportunity to go around and put the King plug in the box of the gate across the stairs. You go through and pass the corner to take the Queen plug out again, which closes off the gate, so you return to the King plug and take that one out as well.

Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

Dang. You nailed all that and are now leaving the place with two plugs and a cool gun. Yep. You're feeling just the tiniest bit of optimism bubbling to the surface.

... which then proceeds to fade, because as you jog back to the Bottom Waterway again, you remember the monster you didn't take care of.

Shit.

After pushing open the door, you already hear it growling, and it seems to have been waiting for you in the water. You try to shoot the eye from here, and it works, but it's not enough. Like hell you're willingly getting into the water with that thing. You whip out the gun and aim it at the eye before pulling the trigger.

Holy shit. The monster lights up with flames, and the round must've done more than enough damage, because the creature falls into the water like the previous ones you battled.

You look at the gun in awe. This thing rocks. Whatever the hell it is, it shoots fire rounds, evidently. You can't wait to show Leon when you see him again.

Oh God. You pray he's doing alright.

What you don't know is that you should really be praying for Claire's life rather than Leon's, because just several minutes earlier, he approached her in the narrow sewer.

Leon couldn't get rid of the redhead earlier because you were with him, but he's alone now, and by the looks of it, so is she. The sewers are noisy enough to drown out the sounds of someone struggling, and it's easy to just push a body in the water without anyone discovering it.

Then again, pretty much everyone has turned, so there's not really anyone who could discover it anyways. He still needs to hide it from you though.

Instead of silently grabbing her from behind, he calls out her name. "Claire!"

The girl turns around in surprise, but then a small smile appears on her face. "Leon?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I'm glad to see you're still alive. Where's your partner?" Judging by the look in her eyes, she's afraid of the answer he's gonna give, but he shakes his head.

"She's okay. We split up to save time. I didn't want to let her go out on her own, but... she insisted. Stubborn girl." He softly chuckles to himself, breaking eye contact for a brief second, and he doesn't miss the way Claire looks at him. Like she can already feel something is going on between you two.

Like she can feel he actually cares about you.

What she doesn't notice, however, is how he's scanning her body from head to toe to see what she's got. She has quite the inventory, with a grenade on her belt, a flamethrower on her back, a revolver in her hand and another handgun in the holster strapped to her hip. She holds it with confidence, proper stance — she's had practice. That's good to know.

He also tries to locate any weak spots — injuries, maybe — but fails to find any.

He's given you all of his knives, so he's just gonna have to choke the life out of her. Not his preffered method, but it does the job. He doesn't want to use his guns, since the last thing he needs is to attract any attention and waste ammo.

"So what're you up to?" He asks her, and she sighs.

"There's a pretty big room upstairs with a door that needs plugs. Like, chess pieces. It's fucking weird, I don't even know why, but... yeah. I'm trying to find them."

Uh oh. Big ass red flag, because you're on your way to get said plugs, so he needs to kill her and go find you immediately.

He hopes she'll at least understand that it's nothing personal. She seems like a nice girl with a fun personality, someone he'd get along with, so he has to push away that shred of guilt that's trying to cloud his judgement.

Unfortunately for the girl in red, the will of his conscience is not that strong. He's a professional, after all.

Claire's reflexes are not fast enough to realize what's happening when Leon suddenly punches her right on her throat, and she immediately tries to gasp for air. Then he stomps her right on her kneecap and she lets out a strange noise that's supposed to resemble a scream.

Before she can fall backwards, he pushes her to the other side so that she drops into the dirty water instead. He gets in just in time to grab her arms. Terrible way to die, really. He holds her still for a moment with her head above water. "I'll kill you, you fucker!"

"Not if I kill you first." Leon responds calmly but with a slightly raised voice. "It's nothing personal."

He pushes her head down again. She's strong, he'll give her that. His lips press together, forming a thin line with eyebrows furrowed and teeth gritted.

She manages to get her head up just close enough to the water to get a few words out. "Fuck—you—wait—Sherry—"

That's when his eyes widen. He pulls her head out of the water. "What the fuck did you just say?" Claire coughs, gasping for air, and Leon roughly puts his hand on her jaw. "Hey! How do you know Sherry!?"

She spits out the disgusting water before finally speaking up. She's fiery and won't give up without a fight, but maybe saying this will save her life. "There's—there's a little girl. Sherry. I promised I'd save her. Please." The last word comes out through gritted teeth. She despises begging.

Goddamnit. He hadn't expected this.

Sherry is your niece. Not that he'd leave a little girl to die in this hellhole, but still. She's more valuable to him than the average kid right now. He considers killing Claire off anyways and saving Sherry with you, but that would only be an inconvenience since he needs to get to the lab too, and he sure as shit is not gonna leave you behind to be on your own or with Claire.

He clenches his jaw. "Listen to me. You're gonna find another way to get to whatever room that girl is in, you're gonna get her to safety and then leave the city."

"There is no other way!" She tells him, but he's not having it.

"You'll find another fucking way, you're more than capable. That room better be empty when we get there. Now, if I see you walking around here again, I will kill you. Understood?" She doesn't respond at first, purely out of spite, but Leon puts his hand on her jaw with a much tighter grip than before, as if he's lecturing a kid. "I didn't hear you."

Claire knows she has the disadvantage here, so she nods her head. "Fine." She spits back, the word laced with venom.

Leon mimics her actions. "Good. Now leave. And go have that knee checked with a doctor if you manage to make it out of here alive." He says, pointing his gun at her just after releasing her, just so she doesn't do anything stupid.

She hisses in pain while taking a last look at him. "Does she know what a fucking bastard you are?"

She's referring to you, and Leon raises his chin. His ego sure is something. "You should go, Claire, before I do actually pull this trigger."

The girl glares at him as she gets out of the water, walking away from him with a now very injured knee.

Once she's actually gone from his sight, he reaches for his forehead with his hand. Everything that's happening is very slowly taking its toll on him, and he needs to get it together.

Get the plug, find a way to the station and get back to you. That's his objective.

He climbs up on the ledge, because there's another T-bar valve here. He does the same as he did with the other one and lifts up the door.

It's a very small and dark room. There's some barrels on the right, trash bags on the left — as well as some shotgun ammo, thank God — and a lift. He moves to stand on the tiny platform and press the button, which takes him up to a much brighter room, and there's a dead guy on the floor.

It's almost too easy.

He uses the shotgun to get in close and blow its head up. He finds a roll of film on the table and some handgun ammo for Matilda by the right wall. He finds a pouch with several pockets that he can strap to his leg, and it works surprisingly well with his outfit.

He unlocks the door in front of him and is pleasantly surprised by the silence. All the zombies are either completely dead or just out, so he grabs the plug, lifting up the platform, and proceeds to go unlock the door to the Treatment Facility.

It's a bit of a bigger room. Bright enough to put his flashlight away, so that's good.

Leon finds some gunpowder on the table and handgun ammo in one of the lockers. Something that catches his eye is a flyer for a jazz festival, which has three letters circled in red. SZF.

Then there's the large cabinet at the other wall which seems to have been moved a few times based on the marks on the wall.

He moves to stand next to the cabinet, getting ready to push it out of the way. It's heavy, but he can manage.

An elevator.

Of course.

He genuinely has to refrain from laughing. When he agreed to this assignment, he didn't think it was gonna be like some scavenger hunt, but here he is.

Taking the elevator up, he finds himself back in the Underground Facility. This time, however, he's on the other side of the locked door at the bottom of the long stairwell the two of you took back when you first went down the secret passage.

That means if he goes up the stairs and into the elevator, he can get back to the station.

Before he can do that, he has to grab the MAG ammo lying on top of a bucket before opening up the door. He remembers the locked S.T.A.R.S. cabinet and makes a mental note to come back for it later.

He jogs up the stairs, returning to the Secret Room using the elevator. It's strange how it all feels so familiar to him now, as if it's a place he visits daily. His mind drifts off to the policemen who were doing their jobs when they got attacked. They tried to keep people safe and it all ended up being for nothing.

Mentally, he scolds himself for being so weak. Can't start getting a conscience now.

The tool he has is his ticket back to the Main Hall, so he inserts it and re-opens the path underneath the Goddess Statue.

He has two reasons to come back to the station. One, he has a roll of film to develop in the Darkroom. Two, he needs to check whether he missed anything important, because he fucking knows he was too focused on you when he you two were walking around here.

It's ridiculous. He's worked with women in the past and they have never distracted him. While he's not a big team player, believing he works better on his own, he prefers working with women, because they're undoubtedly more capable and don't think with their dicks.

That, and the fact that most of the men at Umbrella are first-class assholes.

He really has to focus. Don't worry about her, he tells himself. She's fine. She's okay.

So while trying his hardest to ignore the anxiety levels rising in his chest, he goes through the West Office, avoiding the zombie getting up on the other side of the room, and opens the door to the hallway.

The latter is dark and bloody. He closes an eye and halts his movements when the door creaks and he hears the screeching of the licker patrolling here.

He very slowly walks past the corner, seeing the creature on top of the ceiling, which doesn't appear to have noticed him yet.

Biting his lip, eyes locked with the licker on the ceiling, he continues to walk to the room he has to be in. He exhales a bit when he arrives safely, seeing the light is still flicked on. He goes straight to the back room to develop the roll of film he found in the room just by the platform.

It says 'hiding places' on the outside of the roll. After developing the film, he has two pictures, both featuring a desk. One photo shows a noticeable flag in the background and a telephone in the front, the other has a microphone stand in the back.

They should have something in them, he guesses. Damn. There's so many desks in the station that it's hard to distinguish them, especially with the rooms so dark, and it's not exactly like you two had all the time in the world to explore the station.

The photo with the microphone rings a bell immediately. The first room in the station he explored tonight was the room across from the East Office — the Press Room.

He rolls his eyes. That's all the way to the other side again. He hates going back and forth, it reminds him of when you had to get to the Clock Tower for that one power panel part.

But he does it regardless. He walks past the licker again, shoots the zombie in the West Office, jogs past the lifeless bodies of Marvin and Elliot before entering the dark hallway on the east side.

He pushes the white doors open. There's a zombie just casually moving its hands on the barricaded door, and Leon is pretty sure he's good.

He walks just as slowly towards the desk as he would with a licker around. He moves to stand behind the desk, his fingers reaching out to very quietly open one of the drawers.

There's a different type of ammo inside. Acid rounds, it seems — for a grenade launcher? He hasn't come across that one yet. Certainly interesting, though. He makes sure to add it to his little inventory before stepping out as quietly as he came in.

As he walks back to the Main Hall, he tries to force himself to think harder, furrowing his brows. Where the hell is that other desk? A telephone on it. Not every office has a flag in it, and flags are usually placed in singular offices.

The S.T.A.R.S. Office.

Of course. It had to be that desk over there, where he found the battery. Why didn't he think of that sooner?

As he jogs up the stairs by the statue, he finds it weird that the big guy is gone. Where the hell did he go? Did he find another group of survivors to chase relentlessly?

Probably.

He enters the Library, which is quiet, save for the swinging of the chandelier, and he immediately leaves to go through the Lounge, into the hallway.

Of course there's another licker here as well. He wonders how many of them are in the station at this point. It's more than easy to avoid them though, so he doesn't feel any pressure.

While the creature is at the other end of the hallway, he steps into the S.T.A.R.S. Office. He moves into the corner office and pulls open the drawer.

There's an upgrade for the Lightning Hawk inside. He's very pleased with that, a scope always works. All he believes is necessary to do now is to go back down and use the S.T.A.R.S. badge to get what is probably the last upgrade for the Magnum in the building. He can't believe he missed it when he walked up.

He really needs to hurry it up, because he's jogging around the place like he's got all the time in the world, and he guesses you must be back at this point, so he plans on going back to you immediately.

Leon isn't wrong, because just two minutes before that, you managed to safely return to the familiar space that is the Control Room.

Which is empty, apparently.

"Um..." you sigh to yourself, looking around the quiet space. Uncertain of what to do next, you put the plugs down on the table by the wall they have to be plugged into before looking around again. What are you supposed to do? Just wait?

It's so quiet that it's creepy. You feel like you've been gone for ages — how is Leon not back yet? Where is he?

There's a chair you could sit on, but you're too nervous to sit still.

Having to wait is probably the most nerve wracking thing you've had to do so far. You don't know where Leon is, whether he's alive, or what the hell he's doing.

Wait — the Treatment Facility.

It's the one place you haven't explored yet, but you remember finding the key for it just before you separated. He has to be there.

No. He told you to stay here as soon as you got back. For your own safety. He'll be back soon.

Still not being able to sit down peacefully, you cross your arms and keep moving your right leg. After that, you begin to walk around the room, hoping the time will pass sooner.

"C'mon. He's fine. It's Leon. Leon knows what to do. He always does." You chuckle to yourself, realizing you're talking about him as if you've known him for years.

What if he isn't okay? He's great at fucking everything he does, it seems, but he's still human. Not invincible. He has a bullet wound in his shoulder right now, after all. Shit, what if that is his undoing?

What if he's actually in need of rescuing?

Unfortunately for you, your overactive imagination begins to picture your one and only companion heavily injured, in need of someone to help him out.

That does it for you.

You reload everything you have, feeling a bit more confident with the new weapon now in your possession, and take the map out to spread it on the table.

Leon went back the other way, so you have to cross the platform, go down the stairs, get into the water and probably get up on that ledge where the valve was. It's right underneath the room where you can get the third plug.

Before moving out, you quickly write a message for him on a note, telling him to wait in the Control Room if he gets back, because you're gonna try to look for him in the station first.

As you take the right route, you frown. Maybe it's stupid. What if he's on his way back right now and you miss each other? You'll be walking around the place trying to find someone who's literally just in the same place but a different area.

In this case a different waterway.

God, maybe this will even be your undoing.

No, no, you have to focus. It's awfully silent compared to the first time you came here.

It's almost funny seeing the mess Leon left behind. The zombies with their heads blown to pieces, the monsters in the water still down, the blood on the floor.

In all honesty, what else did you expect?

You climb up the ledge in the Bottom Waterway, seeing that he's used the tool to lift the barrier just as you expected.

Damn, the room is really dark.

And Leon has the flashlight. Naturally.

It's okay. Your eyes get used to the darkness quickly, so you can manage for now. There appears to be a lift you can use, so you step on the small platform and press the button. Since this is uncharted territory — to you, at least — you whip out your new gun. It's like a second nature at this point.

And you were right to do so, because the lift leads to a room where you're face to face with a zombie standing across the small room. It's very bright in here, so that's good, but if this fucker lunges at you, you're practically done for.

Luckily for you, the guy's back is facing you. You use the weapon to shoot two fire rounds at the zombie in rapid speed, which were the last rounds you had, and he drops to the floor.

You quietly put your hands up in happiness, cheering without making any noise. This weapon, this beautiful firearm is the best fucking thing that's happened to you all night. Maybe you should name it, like Leon with his Matilda.

Alright. No time to dilly-dally.

Across from you is the door to the Treatment Facility, so you go there and find that the door is unlocked this time.

You notice some flyer for a festival on the table, but that's not important right now — what is important is the elevator you see in front of you, normally probably hidden behind the cabinet someone moved out of the way.

"You better be up there." You mutter to yourself breathily before stepping into the small space and clicking the button. If you can't find him, what the hell will you do?

Chapter 10: Moment of Truth

Summary:

Worried that something may have happened, you go back up to the police station to find your parter in crime.

Chapter Text

Leon walks into the Main Hall when his moves suddenly come to a halt. There is actually a place he hasn't explored fully yet.

The parking garage.

It's funny how he almost forgot about the whole area despite having spent quite some time there. There's one room just by the entrance to the stairs he hasn't checked yet.

He doesn't know what kind of room it is, though, because you took all the maps with you. He does know that the only way to the parking garage is through the east side of the station, going down the stairs outside of the Break Room.

He really doesn't like that damn hallway, but he doesn't have the time to go upstairs first, so he goes back to the dark hellhole and the flooded floors outside of the East Office.

Two zombies are limping towards him, so he uses the Magnum and aims it at their heads with all the upgrades he managed to get. Both of the heads explode and they drop to the floor, some of the blood seeping out of their necks staining his dress shirt and vest.

Disgusting — but he'll take it.

The rest of the hallway is safe, so he jogs past the Break Room and reaches the door to the now well-lit hallway. He keeps walking and takes a right, then opens another door to the room he needs to be in.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the room he's currently standing in is the Firing Range. Two zombies in uniform are up and at it, busting through the door at the end.

Maybe he's pushing his luck by letting them get so close to him each time, but it just makes the shotgun shells more effective.

He cringes after blowing their brains to pieces, because the blood that flows out gets onto his skin and his suit. He's not exactly the biggest fan of being covered in blood like this.

In front of him sits a yellow box on a table, which looks promising. He examines it and opens it up, finding a car key inside. There's also a note mentioning that this key is the key to one of the patrol cars out there.

Aside from some shotgun shells, a roll of film and a red herb, there's not much in this room. So he leaves to go to the parked cars by the now open gate. He uses the car key to open up the trunk of the patrol car and finds a gun stock for Matilda inside.

Nice.

After combining the items, though, he hears the growling of the dogs. The sound of the car beeping must've alerted them — shit. He has to go and get back now.

So he bolts out, a few dogs running after him, barking and growling at him. He moves past the door of the firing range and is nearly by the door leading up to the Break Room, and he's fast, but one of the dogs jumps up on him from behind, and he feels this excruciating pain in his neck.

He quickly pushes the dog off again, leaping back up the stairs and entering the safe room.

In the back room, he takes off his tie, closes the cabinet above the sink and pushes the collar of his dress shirt out of the way so that he can see his skin in the mirror.

There's some streaks of blood, he can see where the dog's teeth were — but it wasn't very deep.

Shit. Does this mean that he's infected? No, it can't, right?

Oh, he's panicking. Shit, shit, shit! He needs to get out of this fucking place now.

No, he needs to get it together. He looks at himself in the mirror, his hands and face dirty and bloody, and he runs a hand through his hair before the sudden burst of stress gets to him.

His blue eyes are the last thing he sees before he breaks the mirror with his fist. Goddamnit, he thinks, not knowing what to feel right now.

The sewers. He needs to go back there. If he is turning, he should at least get you that last plug still in his possession.

His knuckles are slightly bloody from breaking the mirror, but he doesn't care or even feel any pain whatsoever. He puts everything back on and tries to hide the wound with his shirt, reloads everything and moves out the door again.

He can't believe he allowed himself to get bitten just for that stupid gun extension.

Leon returns to the place underneath the Secret Room, walking down the narrow space. He moves down the stairs, getting really tired of having to jog everywhere. Especially with that damn wound of his.

He isn't sure whether he's infected. The dog only slightly put his teeth in his neck, enough to leave a mark, but he isn't really bleeding anymore. Elliot transformed within an hour, and he showed signs of it almost immediately, yet he doesn't feel anything weird yet. He's not twitching, his hands aren't shaking, his breathing his normal and his heartbeat is steady.

If he is turning, however, he needs to see you first. He has to. Though that's not what worries him as of right now, he could care less.

What he does care about is the door — because it's ajar.

He distinctly remembers closing it, and the door is so heavy that there's no possibility it opened by itself. There's no one alive in the station to use the door, so someone has to have opened it from the direction he came from.

He believes it's one of three options.

One, Ada. She's sneaky enough to follow him without getting caught. He hasn't seen her in a hot minute, though, and he believes it wouldn't benefit her to do that, so he highly doubts it was her.

Two, Claire. She's walking around here too, but she's probably still down in the sewers, thinking of a way to get to Sherry without using the plugs.

Three, you. He doesn't know how long it has taken you to get all those plugs — that is if they were even in that room — but he's pretty sure he's been gone too long. You're stubborn enough to disobey him and go looking for him, even if he explicitly said not to.

Fuck.

You could be anywhere.

Fucking hell. He knew he shouldn't have let you convince him to split up. It was inherently a terrible idea and now it's coming back to bite him in the ass.

C'mon, he needs to think. Where would you go? The station is pretty big, so you could genuinely be walking around the whole night and miss each other. Damnit.

So he curses to himself and walks back up to the Main Hall. He imagines the map of the station in his head, trying to put himself in your shoes.

Where would you try to find him? East or west?

He bites his bottom lip, taking a glance at the goddess statue in front of him before remembering the computer with the camera footage on which you watched Elliot nearly get eaten just several hours ago.

Pushing a few buttons on the keypad makes the live camera footage pop up on display. Now that you've fully explored the station, it's much easier to tell where the cameras are located. Two of them watch over the hallway by the Break Room and the entrance to the parking garage. Then there's one in the cursed hallway on the west side as well as one by the Darkroom.

Much to his displeasure, nothing is visible on said footage. One zombie is dormant, standing by the window of the hallway, so he's pretty sure that means you haven't gone through there.

Yet.

It's not like you'd have a reason to. You both hate that hallway, and it's much faster and safer to navigate through the West Office anyways.

He has two options — wait for you here until you maybe pop up on the screen or go look for you himself.

It's laughable how fast he goes for the latter.

His gut tells him to go west, so he does. The door to the West Office creaks like it always does. Only a single zombie gets up again, but Leon is quick to push it back down by putting his foot on its chest and blowing its head to pieces.

After doing that, the silence is interrupted by footsteps. Soft ones — but they're audible.

It has to be you. Second floor, probably the library, he assumes, so he's gotta get moving before he loses you.

And he's correct in his assumption. You heard the shot downstairs but couldn't identify it as such, so you're afraid that it's the big guy or a monster — whatever it is, you don't want to stay put. Especially because you still have to find your partner in crime here somewhere. That is, if he's even here at all.

He could also be in the parking garage or the sewers, and you wouldn't even know about it.

The station is unsettlingly quiet without a companion by your side, and you realize that the conversations and physical touches with him were genuinely the only thing keeping you sane in this godforsaken place.

With an awfully high-pitched shriek echoing in the library, you leave to go to the lounge the moment a zombie that was apparently playing dead tries to grab you by your feet.

Fuck, fuck, fuck my life. It's all you can think.

The hallway leading to the S.T.A.R.S. Office is actually one of the shittiest hallways in the entire station. It may be clear of zombies — or so you hope — but it's never clear of lickers.

You forgot about that tiny little detail when you escaped into said hallway, suddenly standing still when you see the ugly creature on the ceiling. Yes, you're more than aware that you can just walk by them, but it's still fucking scary.

Holding your breath, you take a few steps forward. It's fine. All you have to do is walk quietly to the other end and you can yeet your ass past the showers, to — well, wherever you plan to go next.

But the universe does not seem to approve of your simple plan, because you accidentally step on a goddamn shard of glass that must've fallen onto the floor due to the window being broken. If that wasn't enough, you release an audible gasp, because you have nothing to defend yourself with. Regular bullets and knives are a no-brainer, you have no ammo left for the gun you found in the storage room, and you have maybe one grenade left — a grenade!

Just as you move your hand to yank the item off your belt — alternatively: just as you're about to get devoured by the biggest licker you've encountered so far — you're pushed back behind the corner, and the sound of shotgun rounds being fired rings through your ears.

Your brain is slow to connect the dots, but when you see his dark, ash-blond hair parted in curtains, the fancy shoes, white dress shirt, red tie and smirk on his face as he playfully leans the shotgun on his shoulder, you feel as if your heart is bursting out of your chest.

"Oh my God." You laugh breathily out of happiness and relief. "Leon!"

"Hey Sweetheart." He tries not to let his grin turn into a genuine smile, but you make it so hard when you're absolutely beaming at the sight of him.

Before he can do anything else, such as making a flirty comment or asking whether you're okay, you've wrapped your arms around him. It wipes the grin off his face in an instant.

And you're feeling a million things all at once. Relief, warmth, comfort, and even sadness, because you realize just how badly you needed him back. Holding him feels as surreal as a dream come to life. His warm hands move down your back, and everything around you disappears for just a second.

"Are you okay?" You ask him when you've released him, because while you wanted to hug him longer, you don't want to come across as too clingy.

"You're asking me if I'm okay? Really? When you nearly got eaten?" He tries to scold you for not listening to him and putting yourself in danger, but fails to come across as convincing. "Why did you think it was a good idea to come up here, exactly? Pretty sure I told you to wait in the Monitor Room."

Your smile falters just a bit as it turns into something saddening. "I was going to wait! But you weren't there, and you took so long, and I was worried that you needed help—"

"You were worried that I needed help?" He repeats, as if he didn't just get bitten in the Parking Garage, frowning at you with such disbelief and sarcasm that it frustrates you a little.

"I just—I was gone for ages and expected you to be back before me! I was worried about you, alright? What if you got attacked, or hurt, or God knows what! I can't lose you, Leon. You're all I have right now, I need you to make it out of here with me." You unconsciously rant with a lump forming in your throat, and he steps forward, taking you in his arms to calm you down.

"It's okay, Doll. It's okay." He gently strokes your hair, swallowing when he realizes how stupid he sounded asking that just now.

You care about him the same way he cares about you. It's just so foreign to him — working with a partner, having someone worry about him like this. It's something he still needs to get used to, but he'll do what he can for now.

It's been more than half an hour since he got bitten in the parking garage, and he's still perfectly fine, so he thinks the bite probably wasn't deep enough for him to get infected. Knowing that with you safely in his arms, he can finally exhale in this bloody hallway, with the corpse of a licker behind him.

A few tears ran down your cheeks unintentionally, so you wipe them away immediately. "I'm sorry, I should've stayed in the Monitor Room."

As you lift your head from his shoulder, he holds your face in his hands, thumbs on your cheeks. "No, it's okay. I'm glad you're here. Thanks for looking for me." He says, and it's genuine.

You swallow. A smile looks good on him. You wish he'd do it more often.

"I got the plugs. Put 'em in the wall by the door already."

He reaches into his pocket for the last plug. "Ditto."

When you rub at your eyes, trying to get rid of your teary look, he takes your free hand. "Ready to leave?"

"Jesus Christ, I hate this place so much. Of course I am."

He chuckles at your response. "That's my girl." While walking down the corridor, he notices the brand new firearm on your back. "Where the hell did you get a grenade launcher?"

"So that's what it is!" You think out loud, taking it off your back to admire it. "I got it from the same storage room where I got the plugs. Fucking goldmine, apparently. But after all those monsters I had to kill, it was well deserved."

With furrowed brows, he looks at you. "Monsters?"

"Yeah—remember that guy with the eyeball we had to shoot? Not my uncle, the other one."

It comes out of your mouth so casually that it makes him snort. "Yes."

"Well, I had to fight like, four of those assholes, but bigger. I think. They looked bigger."

Leon's wildly impressed. And perhaps mildly turned on. "You fought all those guys on your own? And beat them?"

"Yeah! Not to mention the zombies I just shot here in the station when I was looking for you."

He thinks it's actually funny as fuck that you just went out in the sewers and the station, not giving a shit, shooting at everything that wasn't him. "How did you even pull that off?"

"Don't worry." You chuckle. "Me and George have been managing just fine so far, mind you."

Leon frowns at that. "Who's George?"

You raise your wonderful grenade launcher. "The gun! Obviously. You're a bit of a slow burner, aren't you?"

The man in the suit scoffs with a smile. "Unbelievable. I leave you alone for less than an hour and you've gone crazy."

He steps forward, beginning to walk off, and you follow after him. "Crazy. Character development. Call it what you will."

As you walk next to him, he grins. "Whatever you say, Doll. I'm proud of you."

While him sweet-talking you has pretty much become normal to you, it never fails to make your heart flutter and your cheeks go red. "Yeah, well. I thought maybe you needed saving, so... here I am."

He wants to respond sarcastically like he always does. Tell you that he never needs saving, that he'll be fine, because he always is.

But he's not.

For a weird reason he can't explain, as he's walking with you, everything that's happened tonight flashes through his head. All the blood, the torn apart bodies, the zombies, the lickers, the monsters — hell. He feels disgusted and anxious all of a sudden, like he wants to scream and crawl out of his skin. He can't pinpoint what it is.

You notice how he zones out, which is strange, because he never does.

"Leon?" You gently touch his shoulder. "You okay?"

Every time you ask him that, his heart breaks a little more, and his conscience grows all the more present. You're a liar. Who the hell even are you? Who are you really? He thinks to himself, and he's convinced he will be going insane in approximately three to five business days.

All this horror, and for what? For fucking what?

"Mhm. Let's just go get your cousin, yeah?" He puts his façade back up and it's so fucking fake, but he has to. "That is, if she's still in there."

You notice that he's shrugging something off, but knowing Leon, he's not going to tell you anything. Pouting, you huff at his constant pessimism, and no one is like this for no reason — so you'll just have to do some digging.

"Why're you always like this?"

"What? Realistic?"

"I am going to strangle you if you say that one more time." You tell him, using your hands to show him how you'd do it, and he just laughs at you. "Seriously. Why? Rough childhood? No, orphaned as a kid. Abandoned at the altar. She left you for your brother!"

He grabs a hold of the finger you're pointing at him. "You're cute."

"Don't call me cute, I'm being serious here." You tell him while trailing after him. "Life-changing injury. Your favorite pet died. Your brother killed your father to take over the company and become CEO. You accidentally ruined the biggest business deal of your life."

"Quit it."

"Why?"

"Because to unlock my tragic backstory, you need to reach friend level 4." He responds sarcastically.

But no sir, you're not gonna let him get off this easily. "What level friend am I, then?"

"Bold of you to assume you're a friend."

Your mouth falls open and he thinks it's priceless, but doesn't show it. "What—I risked my life for you, Leon!"

"And I risked my life for you. Welcome to the club, baby."

"Fine! I'm not a friend, I'm... the... the Bonnie to your Clyde." You respond, trying to find the words.

"What does that even mean? We're not lovers." He snorts before stepping closer to you, wiggling his brows. "Unless you want to be, of course."

"I can't believe you." You say, yet the red of your cheeks reveal the truth.

He actually laughs, not just a chuckle, he laughs — and it's a sound you haven't really heard from him before. Aside from all the flirty comments, he's pretty reserved and quiet, so to hear him laugh like this is something that brings a smile to your face. "You absolutely have a crush on me."

"I don't!"

"One hundred percent." He goes on, his cheeks hurting from the smile on his face.

"Keep telling yourself that, pretty boy."

"See? You think I'm pretty."

"Shut up. Who knows? There could be another licker around the corner as we speak. Maybe you should pay attention."

"I'm always paying attention." He shoots back, making it awfully obvious that he's focusing on your body rather than your face. "To important things, anyway."

You scoff. "Wow. I'm so touched."

"I could touch you in more ways—"

"I will actually pay you not to finish that sentence."

"With what? A kiss?"

There's mischief glinting in his bright blue eyes, his dark brows raised, insinuating something lewd, no doubt.

"You wish."

Leon chuckles. "Damn right I do."

A sigh leaves your mouth while you shake your head at the conversation. You've truly missed him. Even if you were only apart for something like an hour, it felt like a whole day.

While walking down the stairs in the Main Hall, you're so caught up with looking at Leon because you finally have him back, alive and well. He eyes you like the flirt he is and casually moves like there's no rush at all.

So you catch yourself staring, and your eyes fall onto his bloody knuckles. "What the hell happened?"

His hand looks like that from breaking the mirror just a little while ago in the Break Room, but it's not like you have to go back there anyways, so he lies about it through his teeth. "Had to push a guy off. Don't worry about it, okay?"

You nod at his response, taking his word for it, and you see the lifeless bodies of Marvin and Elliot before the entrance to the Secret Room. It puts your movements to a halt.

"We're never coming back here, right?" You ask Leon, and he pauses before answering.

"I don't think so." He replies, seeing you swallow at the sight. "You did them justice. We'll make it out of here, and that's what they wanted."

"I know, but I still feel guilty—"

"Don't. It's nothing but pain and it will eat away at you until you feel like you're going nuts." He says, describing exactly what he feels right now, looking at the two officers who will never leave the station again because of a virus his employer created. It's becoming harder and harder to ignore the rising hurt in his chest.

Guilt. What a thing.

But you shake him out of it with your words. "You're right. I'm sorry, I'm—I'm overthinking too much."

"Don't apologize. It wasn't your fault this happened to them, and you couldn't have done anything." He takes a few steps down the stairs before turning back to you. "We do have someone to save elsewhere, though."

"Yeah. You're right, we should go."

Glancing at the grand goddess statue in front of you, you take a deep breath and leave the station for good.

The way back to the right place is longer than you thought it would be. Now that most of the monsters and zombies are taken out already, you can walk around somewhat more comfortably, and you realize how tired your body is and how hungry you are.

Ugh. You'd kill for a chocolate bar right now.

The two of you finally step into the Monitor Room, and you point at the wall, feeling like you nailed the solution. "I put the King and Queen on the left, with the Bishop in the middle. The Knight and Pawn face the King and Queen, so that would leave the one you collected in the middle of the right side over here."

Leon's pretty sure that you're right, so he puts the plug into the wall, and the U-door opens all on its own. He's not that pleased with it, though, because Sherry is still in the Garbage Room, and he's pretty sure he told Claire to do a better damn job at rescuing the girl.

You're the first to walk down the stairs, practically running to the door to find Sherry. Naturally, since things are never easy here, the door doesn't open because the power is off.

"Fuck!" You groan. "We need to find a way to turn on the power."

"Good thing the Power Room is right over here." Leon says, gesturing to the door on the right side of the lever you just pushed down.

Narrowing your eyes, you follow him into the room. While you stand behind him, he flicks a few switches until getting the right combination.

Huh. Seems like things might actually be easy for once.

"That's it?" You mumble to yourself. Out the window, you see the red light has turned green.

Both of you move back to the door, but you've spoken too soon, because something busts through the ceiling, creating a hole in it. The place catches fire before you know it.

Something tries to claw at the both of you from above, so you can only run around and dodge it the best you can.

The fire is getting worse, but the clawing seems to have stopped, so that's good — or so you thought, because it seems that the monster has tired of playing games. Leon hands you the acid rounds he found in the station, because you're probably going to need them.

The monster pushes at a nearby metal door, eventually managing to open it, and when it stands in front of you, Leon throws a flash grenade at it before you both run past it for your damn lives.

It has to be William — you just feel like it is. He sure as shit isn't recognizable anymore, and he seems to have gotten stronger since your last encounter. Stronger and deadlier.

So as soon as you've passed by him, you sprint down the hallway and don't look back, knowing he will eventually catch up to you.

Neither of you have any idea where you're going, but you run on a walkway, heading along the ramp to the right until you jump down, which puts you on an awfully small platform with a giant shipping container. It's still raining outside, maybe even more than before.

Leon is quick to find the crane controls behind the container, pushing a button to get the latter out of the way.

"Shit. Use that acid round on him!" He tells you, and you do so the moment your uncle has hopped down onto the platform as well.

The acid affects him and stuns him for a little while, but not long. He growls, not even as much as a small sign of his human form left, and lets out more noise when Leon uses the Lightning Hawk on him.

"Listen!" He tells you while shooting at the same time. "We've got to use the crane to get rid of him, so you need to push that button on the right when I tell you to!"

It's genuinely a life-or-death situation here, so it's best to go with his plan. He always seems to know just what he's doing, and you trust him.

And he's doing a pretty good job at taking him down. Dodging is particularly hard this time, with the huge sweeping claw attacks he keeps getting, but he manages to steer clear of it.

He needs to be extremely careful before he tells you to push that button. He cannot be anywhere near the container's trajectory that covers most of the stage or he'll be killed instantly. The monster, on the other hand, needs to be in the path of the shipping container in order to really damage him. That means he needs to guess with the positioning and ensure that he'll be in the right place at the right time.

Unfortunately, he's so much stronger this time that Leon's not safe anywhere on this stupid platform.

So far, Birkin has constantly gone after him, but now he also appears to be focused on you. So he literally jumps across the platform to get to you, and you barely manage to get away, his claw getting awfully close to your body.

Fuck. He jumps now. He fucking jumps.

Oh, you're both pissed, and a shit out of luck, apparently. How many more times will you have to fight the fucker?

"Do it!" He yells at you before throwing a grenade, and you press the button immediately, sending the container hurtling back to the platform you're currently standing on.

Leon gets out of the way in time, thankfully enough. Birkin gets hit and pushed off with the container, but your eyes widen when his claws grab onto the ledge. He's about to pull himself up again, but Leon wastes no time using the last Magnum bullet he has to deal a precise shot directly into the large eye on his shoulder, after which he falls into the pit of darkness below for the second time tonight.

You sigh. "I've never really liked him, you know."

Leon looks at you and rolls his eyes. "Of course you didn't."

"I'm serious. Part of me just felt he was going to transform into this huge monster with gigantic eyeballs." You continue sarcastically, pressing your lips together, and you're pretty sure none of your braincells are working properly at this moment.

"I bet you did." He sighs, putting the Magnum back into its holster. "C'mon. We can exit through that door."

Heading through the newly opened path, you find yourselves standing in the same room you were in just a few moments ago.

Taking a deep breath, you use the sleeve of your jacket to remove the rain from your face. Then you move to push down the lever once again, and the door to the Garbage Room finally opens up.

Chapter 11: a Crack in the Glass

Summary:

Leon opens up just a tiny bit, and you and him share a moment before arriving at NEST.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The doors to the Garbage Room have finally opened up enough to enter the place, so you move forward. "Sherry? Sherry, where are you?" You call out, your voice echoing through the large space.

No response. You think she might be asleep. Or maybe just passed out.

Leon already comes to the conclusion that Sherry isn't here, and he has a feeling he knows just how that's possible.

The only logical thing that could've happened is that Claire went through the U-door after you two unlocked it — because even he knew that finding another way to the room was pretty much impossible — and took Sherry while you were fighting Birkin outside. Good chance she's gone down to the lab as well.

Shit. Did the cable car come back up, then?

You're panicking, because you know none of that. It's not like Leon really thought to inform you of his murder attempt. "Shit! Where did she go?"

"My best guess is down to the lab."

"Oh, you mean the place we can't go to because we don't have an ID wristband?" You retort sarcastically with frustration, but Leon taps you on your shoulder.

"You mean something like this?"

He casually holds the wristband with electronic chip in front of your face. Frowning at him, your lips part. "Where did you get that?"

"The floor." He says with a light pout, putting the item around his wrist. "Was just lying around here."

"Weird. Considering there's no bodies to be found." You mumble under your breath.

Leon just shrugs his shoulders. "Let's just take it for what it is. Shall we?"

It's time to go down to the lab and get the sample. Neither of you have any idea what will happen there, but he's got a bad feeling in his gut.

The moment you arrive at the cable car, he gently puts his hand on your lower back to lead you inside. The door of the car opens after he holds his wrist up, so that's good.

"Sure you got everything you need? This might be a one-way ride." He tells you, and you nod at him, sitting down in the cable car, on the very small bench in the middle. Leon moves over to pull the handle, and you feel the car slowly begins to move underneath your feet. The noise of the car moving is muffled while you're sitting inside.

He turns to look at you over his shoulder rather slowly, eyes trailing over your upper body and legs. He sees you blinking slowly, eyelashes fluttering as you seem to be preoccupied with whatever is running through your mind.

Being in the cable car, he finally feels like he can completely focus on you without a zombie or a licker or God knows what hiding in the corner. You're sitting in front of him, a soft look on your face when your eyes meet his.

"What is it?" You ask with a small chuckle, and he wants you to laugh again just so he can hear the sound of it. He likes your laugh. Your voice. You.

He's so in love with you that it should make him gag.

If he's being honest with himself, he feels like he's obsessed with you. Everything you do is interesting to him. He watches you like a hawk — at first because he didn't trust you, now just because he wants to.

"Nothing. I'm just looking at you."

The heat begins to rise to your cheeks and you smile shyly. It's sweet.

"Leon." You say his name, and he sits down next to you on the bench. You take the brief moment of silence to speak your mind. "We're gonna make it, right?"

Leon looks at you and nods. "Yeah. We are."

Your chest fills with worry now that you actually have the time to worry. "What's gonna happen to us when we get out of here? What if it's not just the city? What if it's spread through the state, or the entire country—"

"Then we'll survive that too." He says, and you huff. "We've made it this far, right?"

"I don't even know if Sherry is okay. For all we know, she could be walking around here on her own, with God knows what lurking around the corner..."

She's okay, Leon wants to tell you, because she's with Claire.

For some unknown reason, he's put a bit of faith in the redhead he tried to kill less than an hour ago. Something about Claire makes him believe she's more than capable. He just can't tell you that.

So he plays it subtle while trying to reassure you. "I'm sure she is. Smart girl, right?"

"Yeah, well, you called me that too, but that doesn't mean I am."

While you're often very humorous and sarcastic, your insecurities have not gone by unnoticed to him. It's so painfully obvious to him how low your self esteem is, how much you doubt your capabilities and intelligence. It's not just the things you say, it's in the way you hold yourself. He hates seeing you think of yourself in such a way.

He scoots in a bit closer. "If you weren't smart, believe me, you would've been dead right now."

You shake your head but maintain seriousness. "Call it luck. Luck and a man in a suit who keeps saving my ass." You chuckle a little, pushing your hair over your shoulder.

He tilts his head. "Correction — a handsome man in a suit."

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. "You're so cocky."

Leon hums, after which the smirk from his face disappears. "Seriously, though. You've held your own countless times tonight. I'd trust you with my life if it came down to it."

The words have left his lips before he can even properly think about them. Why did he say that? He keeps lowering his guard whenever you're talking to him, like his self control just vanishes into thin air. It's ridiculous.

It wasn't a lie though.

"I would too." You tell him happily, shrugging as if it's common knowledge. "You're a good person, and my partner in crime, after all."

He flinches at the last sentence. "I'm not a good person."

You frown at his serious tone and the way his eyes divert from yours all of a sudden. Leon has proven to be a man of a lot of eye contact, so to see him diverting his gaze like this makes you question the reason behind it. "Why wouldn't you be?"

It's rare to see Leon Kennedy at a loss for words, but here he is, sitting next to you, trying to find the right thing to say. "I... I've done some bad things to protect my family. Things I really shouldn't have done."

Stop. Stop talking or you'll say something you'll regret, he tries to tell himself, but it's useless.

You don't know what he's getting at, but he has no intention of telling you more. He can't. It's just something he doesn't talk about. Taking a moment of silence, you put your hand on his knee. "Leon... everybody does bad things. It doesn't immediately equal being a bad person. Really. And from what I've seen tonight, I firmly believe you're a good person. I mean, you're kind, caring — you took a bullet for me! If that's not the epitome of selflessness, I don't know what is."

He laughs at how passionate you are in convincing him. "Doll, I'm not..."

"You are! Seriously. Look at me." You say with a smile before mimicking his posture. "'I'm Leon Kennedy, I wear a nice ass suit, I'm good with guns and have the bluest blue eyes you'll ever see.'"

He thinks your imitation of him is priceless. "I don't talk like that."

"You do! You go like... 'I'm so handsome, don't you agree, Doll?' And then I'm like 'yes, yes, you are.' 'I'm a bad person.' 'No, you're not, silly.' You get my point?"

The man in front of you pretends to think. "The only thing I got out of that conversation is that you think I'm handsome."

Letting your head fall against his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut, you huff in frustration. "I can't believe you."

"Whatever you say, Sweetheart." He grins, his hand stroking your hair as you fake cry into his shoulder before he lets out a small sigh of contentment. "Whatever you say."

He feels surprisingly good like this. Holding you, his fingers running through your hair, listening to the sound of your steady breathing. It all feels awfully domestic, something he could get used to — something he so desperately wants to get used to.

"You're a great guy, Leon. I mean that."

Sweet, sweet girl. He adores you so much, making him smile like an idiot.

You lift your head up from his shoulder and look up at him again with big eyes, making his heart beat in his chest — and it's the last damn straw for him. He grabs a hold of your face with one hand, pulling you closer to him as he presses his lips onto yours. It's tentative and slow, testing the water.

He breaks away after about a second or two, just to see if you're ready for more, and you're not sure who leans in first but your lips lock once more within the blink of an eye.

It's something you've both been craving the entire night. This is the one way you can release all the pent up stress, fear, frustration and sadness, as well as the sexual tension and affection that's been blooming between you ever since you met.

He kisses you hungrily, like you're the last girl he'll ever get to taste. It's intimate, wet, and slow like you're trying to coax each other to open up. With the way you're kissing him, he can feel you're inexperienced.

Leon takes your bottom lip in his teeth, nipping at it and tugging it slightly, making you release a gasp. He takes your mouth in his again, hands sliding over your hips, memorizing the curves in your skin.

While he started things out slow, he can't help himself. Your breathing becomes heavier, the kissing faster, your tongues moving around one another messily. It's hardly gentle anymore, it's rough and demanding — just like who he is as a person, how he works, what his life has been like for a long time now.

You're so eager. Kissing him makes you feel so excited yet so relaxed at the same time. You're forgetting everything that happened tonight, everything around you. All you can think about is him, all you can taste is him.

He's all you want.

You're all he wants.

Jesus, if you two keep going like this, he'll never make it out of this cable car. Not to mention the fact that he's pretty sure he can feel his dick getting hard in his pants.

"Wait, wait, baby—" He mutters the words against your now slightly swollen lips.

"Why?" You pout at him, licking your lips to savor the taste.

"Because we need to get out. We made it to the lab." His whispering is soft, and you pout, even though he's gently tracing the palms of his hands down your face — because he doesn't want to let go, yet he has to.

Rolling your eyes, you huff. "I forgot we had to get out and fight for our lives again."

He snorts. "Doesn't fit in your schedule?"

"Nope."

"Pity. You're gonna have to fit it in anyways." He tells you sarcastically before leaning forward to whisper in your ear. "Can you kiss me again, though? You know, for good luck."

"Just for good luck." You respond before immediately putting your mouth back on his again.

It's unbelievable how hot it is to make out with him. Fuck. You're getting so turned on, and he's casually running his hands over your back, biting at your lower lip, putting his knee between your thighs and rubbing — and you need him to stop before you start dry humping him.

"Mhm—Leon—stop." You almost moan, and he laughs.

"You liked that, hm?"

He's fucking smirking again. You step up from the bench, take your jacket off and throw your hair over your shoulder dramatically.

Leon looks baffled but more than ready to go with it nonetheless. "Doll, I'm all game, but I don't think now is the right time to have se—"

"We're not." You snort. "I'm not stripping. This is me preparing for all the shit I'm willingly putting myself through again."

He blinks a few times. "Duly noted."

After throwing the piece of fabric away, now just left in your long-sleeved white shirt — which you forgot is ripped at the bottom because you had to use some of the fabric for his gunshot wound — and you shrug your shoulders. "Well? We don't have all day."

"Stop being cute."

"Not possible."

As he follows you out of the cable car, leaving your jacket behind, he chuckles. He can't believe he got so ahead of himself, thinking you wanted to go further than making out already. You gave him the reality check he needed, though.

Nevertheless, he sees you trying to hide the smile on your face and the blush on your cheeks after touching your lips. With this area being safe of any creatures, he lets go of that self control for the last time. One last time.

He spins you around like he's some hot-shot movie star. "Just one more. Promise." He says breathily, locking lips with you again. Leon knows he's making everything harder for himself, knowing things will get uglier and uglier when you discover the truth, but he's going to live in this dreamy haze with you for as long possible.

Unfortunately, that dreamy haze also contains zombies.

He lets go of you, and you have this starry-eyed look on your face. "Sorry. I couldn't help it." He chuckles awkwardly, worried he may have overstepped it, but you prove him wrong once again.

"It's okay. I enjoyed it." You respond shyly.

Leon beams at your reply, and it's genuine. He can't believe how good you're making him feel, how happy you make him by just looking at him. He may be lying about a lot of things, but everything he feels for you is so real that he should be scared of it.

He isn't.

It's as if you can read his mind. After moving to stand in front of the entrance to the lab. "I didn't peg you to be such a romantic, Leon. But you're just a big old softie."

He narrows his eyes with a smirk, kissing your hand. "I'm full of surprises."

Like being an Umbrella agent, for example.

Jesus Christ. He has to stop thinking about all of this and start focusing on getting that sample, even if he's not exactly certain of why he's getting it. He's not planning on returning to Umbrella after all this, but who knows.

"Welcome to NEST. Enjoy your visit."

The lights are all on, and Leon clenches his jaw. Claire has got to be here, and he's pretty sure your aunt must be around somewhere as well.

The interaction you had with Annette earlier tonight was brief. She accused you of being with him and Ada, as if they were on the same side — what does she know about him, exactly?

And perhaps more importantly, how the hell is she not dead yet? He highly doubts there's any other survivors here in the lab, but he's never actually been down here himself.

That equals not knowing where the samples are either, which is just great.

You've moved to the computer, clicking on the only open window to see what it is. "Nap Room Log. Real exciting." You mutter to yourself, and Leon goes to stand half behind you, looking at the screen over your shoulder.

The last page of said log shows that one person entered, but didn't actually leave. "Looks like our friend Wayne Li should still be there." He says with a monotonous voice, raising his brow a little.

"Lookin' forward to meeting him. Yeah... no." You mutter that last part to yourself, huffing. Being in a completely new area freaks you out, and there's no way back. You have to abandon your memories of the station and the sewers for now and focus on this awfully high-tech lab.

Leon then checks the Security Room, which is locked, and then goes on to the small room on the right of the reception desk. A note regarding ID wristbands is attached to the wall with a pin.

He reads everything and rolls his eyes. "Doll, can you check something for me?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"Can you try to open that door at the end there with the wristband?" He asks, handing it over to you.

He waits for you to say something — then immediately knows it didn't work from the sigh you let out. "Nope."

"Naturally." He mumbles to himself. Once you're back, he shows you the note and gives a quick recap. "We need an upgrade for the wristband if we want to be able to go everywhere. There's three levels of access, which are visitor, general staff en senior staff. Just to properly enter the facility, we need to be general staff, and I'm willing to bet we gotta be senior staff to get to the samples."

"Fuck. So how do we do that?"

"Find a chip that grants us access. Might be good to go and check up on our friend in the Nap Room." He gestures to the computer.

Nodding your head, you scoff. "Right. Of course. Imagine something being fucking easy for once. Nope! Not here. Raccoon City, ladies and gentlemen. City of Doom, apparently." He stares at you blankly as you ramble to yourself once again, before biting your lip. "Sorry, I'm just... uh..."

"... Yeah?"

"Jesus Leon, I don't know. I'm hungry. Emotional. Bloody. Literally feeling like I might die."

"... is this your way of telling me you're on your period?"

Hitting him, after which he chuckles, you exhale. "No, you asshole, this is my way of telling you we're in the middle of the apocalypse!"

"Alright, alright—" he says while his cheeks are still hurting a little from smiling, "—how about we try to find you something to eat? And hopefully some more ammo for that grenade launcher of yours."

"His name is George." You say as if you're actually offended. "And I think that's a great idea. Although I doubt they'd have shit like that lying around in a lab."

"Secret lab, mind you."

"Oh, excuse me, it's a secret lab." You mock him while walking after him to the door at the other side of the desk, which hopefully leads to the Nap Room.

"Doll?"

"Yeah?"

"Stay behind me and keep quiet." He tells you sternly, taking out his flashlight in the dark, unfamiliar hallway.

He truly doesn't mean to be rude, he's just trying to keep you safe. You've come this far, not entirely unscathed but alive nonetheless — and he has no intention of losing you to this virus.

Splatters of thick, red blood cover the white walls in the hall. It's also cold for some reason, which certainly adds to the ominous atmosphere.

Through the window, it seems like you're standing just outside of the cafeteria, and you spot a dormant zombie simply standing there.

The thing about the ID wristband is that it opens a door rather quickly as soon as you stand relatively close to one, so you get a minor heart attack when the door to the cafeteria opens up and the hissing of zombies suddenly rings through your ears again.

Leon feels like he's abandoned Matilda for too long — basically he's just nearly out of ammo for the shotgun and the Lightning Hawk — so he uses it to shoot at the zombie you just saw from the outside.

And its head blows up in one go.

"Lucky bastard." You scoff, standing beside him, because there's no way you're just gonna keep letting him do all the work here. You've got your gun ready in hand, seeing two zombies on the floor to your right. There's also this disgusting noise coming from the other side of the room, and it makes you shiver.

One of the two zombies is getting up, so you put some bullets into your target, and successfully so. The other one is still out.

Leon walks over to the direction where the noise is coming from, seeing one zombie ever so gracefully eating away at the back of another one. Just as he spots it, a robotic female voice echoes through the dark room. "Our menu is designed for your nutritional needs using our latest biological research. Please enjoy our tasty selection of healthy foods."

If this is Umbrella's idea of eating healthy, sure.

Now that you've also shot the other guy across the room, Leon is scouring the room for resources and you — well, you're just looking for food. "Healthy foods?" You ask out loud with disdain visible on your face. "Do I fucking look like I wanna eat something healthy? Damnit."

He manages to find three fire rounds for your gun and some bullets for Matilda, but that's about it. You take them from him in silence, reloading the grenade launcher and putting it back.

"There's a ladder in the back. C'mon."

He climbs up on it first, finding tubes and pipes up there, curious as to where it will lead. While the space is probably designed as a crawling space, it's just big enough to stand in. Nothing interesting seems to be there, and after passing two corners, the only option is to drop down again.

He lands in the Kitchen, which looks out on the room you were just in, but from the other side. There's some gunpowder on the counter, and he finds a knife on the countertop.

"You still got a knife?"

"Yes, sir." You tell him, holding your knife up so he can see it. It feels good to hold it, makes you feel protected.

You've already gone to the door, ready to exit into the hall. Leon wants to tell you to wait, and because he foolishly makes the mistake to raise his arm, the door opens, and you step outside.

And you're face to face with a tall-ass zombie in tactical gear, standing way too close for your liking, making you shriek when it immediately lunges to get you. Thankfully, you're still holding that knife, so you push it into the first weak spot you see, and Leon uses his shotgun to blow the head apart.

"Fuck." You breathe out, your heart pounding like crazy because of the encounter.

"Which part of 'stay behind me' did you not understand?" Leon scolds you while you take your knife out of the corpse.

"I can defend myself just fine, as you've just witnessed."

"Real funny. It's always just monkey see, monkey do. Try to stop being so impulsive, will you?"

"Sure, Mr. Always So Fucking Cool and Collected." You scoff at him. "I act on instinct. Not all of us are as smart as you, or as good at quick thinking, as good with weapons or as cool with the fact that we've been killing zombies and God knows whatnot the entire night!"

He clenches his jaw, but realizes that he's being too hard on you, and that you have a good point. "I'm just trying to protect you."

"I know that. But letting me follow you everywhere is not the way to do it."

Leon narrows his eyes and nods at you. "I know. I'm sorry." A sigh escapes his mouth, and he says the word you two have both come to value equally as much throughout the night. "Partners."

"That's the spirit." You smile at him, and he can't help himself, wiggling his brows.

"Now that we've kissed, we really are Bonnie and Clyde."

The mention of it makes you blush, chuckling at his comment. "That's true."

He pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek before speaking up. "Speaking of kisses, I think I've deserved one for saving your life once more."

As irresistible as he may be, you sure do like to tease him when you can, so you gently take a hold of his chin, slightly moving to stand on your tiptoes. He already parts his lips just a little, only to be wildly disappointed when you lean to kiss his cheek.

He chuckles, almost scarily so, because he's kind of into being riled up like this. Too bad for you — or fortunately, really — he doesn't have much patience to just let it be for now, so he puts his hand on the back of your neck and kisses you passionately.

You sigh into the kiss, his lips so soft and tongue warm in your mouth, and he moves away when you try to deepen it. "That's what I wanted." He says, making you laugh shyly all of a sudden, for some unknown reason.

"If you keep doing that, we'll never make it out of here."

"We most certainly will. I've got a few more tricks up my sleeve to show you." He says in almost a whisper, making you swallow when your mind begins to picture lewd scenarios with you and him, and you can only think about how good he would probably make you feel — so you have to stop thinking right there.

"Okay." Your comment is so quiet that he barely catches it. You try to hide your red face from him, because he's so cool and confident about it all and you're so inexperienced yet you want it so bad that it's driving you nuts.

He forces himself to wipe the grin off his face. "Alright. Focus."

"No need to tell me that, mister." You tease him, and he rolls his eyes at your playful tone.

"Oh, really?" He chuckles. "I bet you're thinking about it too."

You shrug while taking your gun out. "No idea what you're talking about, Kennedy."

Yeah, that's a full-blown lie. Obviously. Of course you're thinking about it, you have been the entire night, but Leon — Leon just can't stop picturing it.

Kissing you sure as shit hasn't been very helpful. With the way you kiss, he's pretty convinced you're a virgin, which awakens something in him he wasn't aware he had.

He wonders if he was your first kiss, and he imagines putting you on a bed and bringing you to your peak with his mouth or his fingers first, stretching you out. And then when he tries to sheathe himself inside you, you'd whine and cry out that he's too big and that it won't fit, and maybe you'd even let him release inside—

And he puts his perverted thinking to a halt, because if he doesn't, his excitement will show in the form of an awfully obvious outline in his tight, grey pants.

Speaking of which, he hasn't fucked in a while. Work takes up a lot of his time and he tries to spend his little time off with his sister.

So to say he really wants to have you in his bed is a severe understatement.

As much as he would love to keep thinking of you acting out his fantasies, you have to start making some actual progress in getting that chip.

He walks over to the door at the end of the hall, and it zaps open quickly as soon as it detects the presence of the wristband. The room is so dark that he needs to use his flashlight again, and he finds some shotgun shells on the table.

One of the three nap cubicles has a bloody hand poking out of it, wristband still attached, so you carefully take out the chip. Leon notices the circuit breaker in the room, but he can't do anything with that yet.

He moves on to the lockers, finding acid rounds for your grenade launcher, yet the other ones are empty.

"Pretty sure this was the upgrade we needed." You tell him somewhat quietly, as if talking louder will alert any more zombies.

He nods, knowing that you've probably gotten everything out of this room you could get. "Okay. Let's head back."

With the wristband upgraded, you can walk straight back to the reception without having to go back through any rooms you were just in, and Leon makes sure to walk closely to the right wall in order to keep the doors closed.

"Dr. Li, your presence is urgently requested by Chief Cartwright in the East Area."

The system recognizes you as Dr. Li, apparently, as soon as you make it back to the desk.

"Well, let's go and see what Chief Cartwright wants from us." He mutters under his breath, heading through the door.

What you two see there is astonishing.

In front of you is a large, open area with several platforms, including a main isolated platform and other platforms leading to the other wings of the lab. Illuminating white lights are everywhere, despite it being rather dark in the cavernous space. With something like a glass elevator on the main platform in the middle, you feel just a bit more assured that you'll be able to leave this place.

How on earth did they even manage to build something like this? They built an entire facility without anyone above ground knowing? It's insanity — and it makes you curious to see what will be waiting for you in the other areas.

On your right sits a dead special forces guy, judging by his tactical gear. In his hand is a sound recorder, the same item you found earlier tonight in Ben's pocket at the jail, and you listen to it with narrowed eyes, both of you sitting on one knee by the dead man.

Apparently, the G-virus is in the West Area. They also keep mentioning a 'target', and it's clear they're talking about your uncle the moment they speak to 'Doctor Birkin'.

You guess he didn't come along quietly as he was ordered to.

When the recording ends, you frown. "So this means that the military was after my uncle?"

Leon nods. "They must've known he was working on the virus, so they came in to arrest him, probably."

Both of you shrug it off, because what matters more right now is the G-sample that is located in the West Area, so that's the place to be.

Leon uses the wristband to extend a walkway to the main platform. It's small and without a railing or anything to hold onto whatsoever, so to say you're scared would be fitting.

Of course he notices — so he walks past you and waits until you take his hand. He almost pulls you with him to the main platform, and it turns out the elevator is locked to everything except Administrator access.

Behind it are two bridge access terminals to extend the walkways. One for the East and one for the West Area. He walks over to the terminal for the latter, but in order to get access to it, you need the senior staff credentials for the wristband first.

"Dr. Li wasn't that high up in rank, then. Naturally." You scoff, gesturing to the other terminal, insinuating that you need to check the other area first, and Leon agrees with your idea.

"East Area it is."

The walkway smoothly pops out and extends to the other side, and you cross it the same way you just left the North Area.

He always gives you his left hand, a gun or a knife always in the other one. Just this time, he gives you his right hand, because there's no threat here. The feeling of the silver ring on his index finger makes you feel something you can't explain.

Once you've reached the door, both of you have to be on full alert mode again, and while you don't want to, it's just smarter to let go of his hand.

The ceiling to your right seems to have popped open, some bugs fluttering around near it, with a door being blocked as well.

The white walls are beyond sleek, and it's not just unlike anything you've ever seen, but also so different compared to the station and the sewers. It feels strange.

The door in front of you opens and you enter what appears to be the lobby. There's a couch or two on your right and a reception desk on the left, with two smaller desks behind it.

Weirdly enough, there's no supplies here, so you need to work with what you have, although it's quite something. While you check the rest of the room, you find that the door to the south is locked, so the only option you have is to move forward, and what you see there, is, uh... truly a sight.

A man in a hazmat suit is literally stuck in the glass — which couldn't have been caused by anything other than the man being slammed into it with a shitload of force — and as you walk closer, you see he's holding something very, very important in his hand.

The senior staff chip.

"Leon, quick question." You say while not taking your eyes off the now presumably dead man in the yellow suit. "What the actual fuck are we looking at?"

"A dead man, Pumpkin."

"How the fuck did he end up there!? That's the worst fucking way to die."

"No it isn't."

"Wha—then what is the worst way to die?"

"Getting your neck torn apart by a zombie. Fedora Man punching you very, very hard for about two times until your skull is most likely split in two. Actually, scratch that, did you see the way Ben died? That was fucked up." He talks about it so casually, looking at you flatly. "I can go on if you want."

"I'll pass, thank you very much."

"As you wish."

So. Back to that chip in the dead man's hand.

It's on the other side of the glass, which means you can't grab it from here. Obviously. You're not exactly thrilled to get into the creepy jungle behind the man in the hazmat, but it's not like you've got any other choice.

Leon tries to access the computer in the room, but that needs senior staff access as well, so you keep moving, and this door doesn't open as smoothly as the other ones — it's slightly restrained by something that looks like a plant — but what truly worries you are the strange, unfamiliar noises that are emerging from the other side of the door.

Notes:

THEY FINALLY KISSED HEYYY

Hooo boy I'm getting real excited now because we're getting very close to seeing Leon's true identity revealed. I'm not sure how many more chapters it will take before it happens, but it's going to be soon. ;)

Chapter 12: Tranquility Before Chaos

Summary:

The exploration of the East Area feels almost too easy.

Notes:

Apologies for the long wait.

Wanted to say, though, that the world news is crazy and scary right now, as I live in Europe. I hope with all my heart the Ukranians will win this war and that it will be ended soon.

I hope you enjoy the chapter and that it might serve as a brief distraction from all the heartbreaking news. Please all take care of yourselves and stay safe. 3

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The room seems to be part of the Greenhouse. It's dark, not a light to be detected, vines covering the ceiling and the walls, and you put a fire round in your grenade launcher, because it really seems like there's a body hanging from the ceiling — which would not be the first tonight, as you remember the dead cop in the station's west hallway with all the open windows.

Leon takes a shot to see if it's alive — or undead, if you will — and the body falls to the floor, making this strange noise that makes the hairs on your arms stand upright.

It has a gaping maw for a mouth, which would be more than enough to bite your neck off, but the creature is really not that frightening compared to all the shit you've already dealt with. "I'm supposed to be scared of a fucking plant?" You ask rhetorically before launching a flame round, and said plant drops onto the floor, its body turned to ash.

"You're getting a little too good at this." Leon says, as he's genuinely impressed of the development of your capabilities throughout the night.

And it makes you beyond happy, even if you've been surrounded by nothing but blood and death for several hours now. "I know, right? You should watch out, I'm well on my way to beat you with my survival skills."

"I'm scared out of my mind now."

"As you should be, Kennedy."

"See my knees wobbling? That's how scared I am. I'm quaking, Doll."

"You're such an asshole."

He just scoffs with a cheeky smile, playfully pushing your arm. Ever since you've kissed, the tension between you has become more relaxed.

Almost as if you've known each other for much longer than just one night, which is something that makes you feel a little weird instantly. Just hours ago, you didn't even know who he was, he had no part of your life whatsoever, and now...

Well, what are you now? Of course you like him, you really like him. Are you in love with him? How should you even be able to tell? All you know is that you would love to be in a relationship with him.

Would he even want that? How are you supposed to know whether he wants something with you that's more than a sexual relationship?

What the hell will your life look like if you make it out of here? Just go back to college like nothing happened?

"We don't have all day, Pumpkin." He calls out to you after taking out another creature of the same kind, and you nod at him, shaking off your thoughts.

You enter what appears to be a control room of some kind. There's computers everywhere, a table in the middle of the room, as well as a control terminal with an overview of the Greenhouse. You're happy with the flash grenade you find, and Leon moves to stand in front of the terminal.

It shows a map of the area. The doors to the Drug Testing Lab and a certain ladder are apparently locked, but you don't have a code for the odd-looking symbols on the keypad. "How much longer is this shit gonna take?" He mutters to himself and sighs.

What catches your eye, however, is the Solution Sprinkler System. It can be used to disperse a chemical into the Greenhouse, which should be what you need to do in order to get that chip.

So you press the button that makes the machine eject an empty dispersal cartridge, but not before dispensing whatever was inside. "All we need to do is get the solution into the cartridge." You tell Leon, holding up the empty piece of glass.

He nods, remembering you're a chem major — which might actually be quite helpful in this case. The two of you decide to move into the Greenhouse, which is a creepy place, despite having good and bright lighting.

Naturally, you should've known there's also several plant zombies wandering about in here. As a matter of fact, this must be where they're coming from. Obviously.

But you find that your grenade launcher is wildly useful in this, because all you have to do is launch one — sometimes two — flame rounds at them, and they're burnt to a crisp.

"Watch your step." Leon says, because the room is covered with thick roots and vines. That's the reason you can't get to the chip upgrade as well.

You head left, seeing a red herb, but you have so many unused herbs sitting in your pockets that you decide to leave it be. In case of emergency, you can always come back for it later.

On the place where the map said the locked ladder should be, you find the symbols on top, which must be the code you need to use in order to unlock it. "I found the code!"

"Keep it in mind, I'll check this one."

When he does, you wait by the ladder, almost getting jump-scared by the plant zombie that fell down from the ceiling all of a sudden. The thing about the grenade launcher is that you have to make sure you're not standing too close to the target unless you want to get some solid burns yourself.

Pushing your hair over your shoulders, you put the firearm on your back again, and Leon is genuinely proud of you considering how comfortable you are now, with all the gear you have.

The door to the Drug Testing Lab is open, so he calls out your name. With furrowed brows — because you thought the door to said space was supposed to be locked — you jog over to him, entering the room.

It certainly looks like a lab. Chairs and desks everywhere, apparatuses, several microscopes, cabinets and a variety of other devices. It actually just might be the first truly clean room you've been in tonight.

You know, except for the dead researcher corpse in the hazmat in the corner, of course.

But next to him is a grenade lying around, so your beloved partner in crime picks it up. He won't hand it to you, though. "Still don't trust me with one of those, huh?"

"Nope."

"You do know I still have a grenade launcher, right?"

"I do."

"So, that doesn't add up."

"Well, you're in charge of burning the living plants here." He says before cheekily adding another sentence. "Need to make you useful somehow, right?"

"You—take that back!"

"I'm sorry Doll, it's the truth."

"I'll have you know that I've got a mean right hook, Leon."

"Once again referring to my wobbly knees—ow!"

"Told you."

He snickers, caressing the skin on his arm where you hit him just now. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

"Bet you are."

He's never been a clingy type of lover, but he wants to kiss you again so badly. Even when you're covered in dirt and blood, he still wants it, but he's got to restrain himself here. Otherwise you'll never get out, just like you said earlier.

His eyes catch on to the file located on a table.

Plant 43 Herbicide Synthesis. Jackpot. "We need to put that empty cartridge you've got into the Solution Dispenser, add the required amount of the solution and cool it immediately."

"Hm, okay. That can't be too difficult."

"Wait, that's not all." Leon says, putting a finger on the note as he reads. "'Plant 43 exhibits astounding growth. If something unfortunate were to occur, it may be hard to control. In the event of an unforeseen incident, manufacture the herbicide using the instructions above in order to minimize damage.'"

"Fucking vague." You raise your brows. "At this point, I don't even know what to expect anymore."

Something behind you is suddenly very interesting to Leon. He realizes that the lock on the display in the control terminal isn't for the door to the room, but to the device that creates the needed herbicide solution. The shutter is controlled from the terminal, but the code is only partially visible.

Naturally.

"You still got the code?"

"Yeah."

He nods and gestures for you to follow him back to the Greenhouse Control Room. "Alright. Let's go and fill it in. We're gonna have to find the other one elsewhere."

He lets you put the code in first. You talk to yourself out loud. "This thing... two stripes... two edges... and this one again." You mumble to yourself, and as you click on 'enter', the system accepts the code and unlocks the way to the ladder.

"Well, the code for the lock in the Testing Lab is incomplete, so we gotta find that elsewhere."

You roll your eyes, knowing that you have to go find the other code somewhere now, pointing to the ladder on the screen. "I assume we gotta go down there now, right?"

"Unfortunately. Not like we've got any other choice. Everything else is locked."

The lab has got to be one of if not the most restricted area yet. You can literally only take one door at a time here until you've been everywhere, and it sucks, because it slows the whole plan down.

That, and the fact that it's creepy as shit in this place.

Going back into the Greenhouse, you hope the plant zombies aren't intelligent enough to follow you down the ladder.

The room you drop into is way too dark to even see anything without the flashlight your partner in crime has in his possession.

If anything, the room — or just small hallway, really — looks like the basement. On the right side, you find some additional acid rounds for your grenade launcher and a map of the area you're moving through right now.

"Thank fuck. A map." You sigh in relief at your small victory.

"Let me see." Leon tells you, clearly not up to negotiate with you on this, since he's already snatched the wrinkled piece of paper out of your hands.

"Hey!"

"Hi." He responds dryly, not even bothering to look up at you, though watching you from the corner of his eye. "Server Room, Lounge, Low-Temp Testing Lab, staircase. Good to know."

"Excuse me, I would like my map back, thank you very much."

"You and your maps."

"They're useful. And they calm me down just a tiny bit. I like to know where I'm going."

"I know, I know. Here." He hands it over to you, pointing at the Low-Temp Testing Lab. "This should be where we need to cool the solution as soon as we manage to get to it. Wanna go check it out?"

"Am I even allowed to say no?"

"Of course you are. You can wait in the hallway and hope for the best — the best being not getting eaten alive." He deadpans, making you roll your eyes. They're gonna get stuck like that at some point.

Scoffing, you take the map from him and fold it up. "You and your pessimism. Don't even—" you point your finger at him when his lips start to move, "—don't you dare say it."

"... what happens if I do?"

"Then... you won't get to kiss me again." Which is obviously a big fat lie, because if this man wants to kiss you, you'll sure as hell let him.

"So that means I can do other things to you?" The way he's close to biting his lip is almost corny, so unbelievably cheesy that it should turn you off, but Leon seems to be able to make anything work. Including flirting.

"Nope. You ain't getting nothing from me, mister."

"Ugh. Fine. I'll hold it for once."

"I appreciate it."

He chuckles lowly at that. "I bet you do."

The situation, as fun as it is to flirt with him, is bad. Mostly because you keep getting aroused from your little moments with him, the simplest touches, the way he talks and kisses you — it slows everything down, so you need to pick up the pace if you want to make it out of here.

Because the thing is that you want to jump your dear partner like a tree, but can't because of the small inconvenience that is the zombie apocalypse you're trying to escape from.

Ah, well, priorities.

It's not until he pulls you with him that you snap back to reality.

You arrive in another hallway, finding bloodstains and claw marks all over the place, which probably equals danger being nearby.

On the left is the Server Room, the door of which isn't locked, it's simply out of power. "Gotta find a way to turn the power on." Leon mutters to himself, and so you're forced to go deeper down the hall.

Your stomach twists the moment you spot the Lounge area.

It's full of blood and bodies, reminding both of you of the bloody hallway by the Watchman's Room up in the police station.

Swallowing hard, you're harshly reminded of what's happening here and what you said to Ada earlier tonight. You owe it to the people that died to at least try to find what caused all this.

While you're still standing frozen in your spot, Leon takes the shotgun off his back, popping the heads of all the bodies. A wise decision, undoubtedly, but it still feels like you're doing something bad.

The sight of their heads exploding doesn't even faze you anymore. How the hell is that even remotely okay?

"Doll? You okay?"

"Hm? Yeah! Yeah. I'm fine. Mostly. Yeah."

He knows you're lying but decides to let it slide this time. He finds some much needed shotgun shells as well as the circuit breaker that can't be used yet. He'll have to use it to turn the power on, soon.

On the table stands a funny-looking trophy, and you're still a creature of habit, so you pick it up, examining the item — and you're fucking glad you did, because you found the missing piece of the puzzle.

Well, the missing piece of the code, really, but it's the same thing.

"I'm so fucking smart!" You snort, holding up the trophy in a way that it shows Leon the bottom of it. "Look!"

He squints from the other side of the room, then realizes you found the code. Well, that was certainly easier than expected. "That's... brilliant, actually."

Restraining himself from kissing you, he just plants one on the top of your head, which is easy and quick given your height difference.

The action makes you blush and feel all giddy inside, so you try to make a straight face and return to business. "Let's both remember the code, please? I'm not bringing this thing with me."

"Yes ma'am."

After doing your best to register the image of the code in your mind, you want to take a step forward, but Leon pulls you back by your wrist immediately. "What is it?" You frown, but he points his finger up to the ceiling.

"Do you hear that?"

As you're both quiet, you want to tell him you don't hear shit, until there's something — the sound of a creaking ceiling above you.

And hissing.

Oh, fuck no. Seriously? They're here, too?

Instinctively, both of you reach for the highly useful blue items on your belts, getting ready to use them if necessary.

Holy mother of Jesus.

You actually get one of the worst jump-scares yet when not one, but two of the cursed creatures you call lickers pop out of the ceiling, both at different sides of the hallway, essentially trapping you in your spot.

It seems you and Leon know how to work together as you each focus on taking one down. They're so far apart that you both need to throw in a flash grenade, and he uses his shotgun to kill the one on his side, whereas you use the grenade launcher to kill yours.

Once they're both shot down and burnt to a crisp, you realize you're still holding your breath.

"Fucking hell. I'm so done."

"Yeah. Me too." He grumbles, getting fed up with how long this is all taking, considering the area shouldn't be that big.

With the room you were supposed to visit being locked due to no power equals going further, and in this case, that means going up the stairs.

Leon heads into the stairwell first, immediately turning right the moment his ears catch the familiar sound of a zombie. He uses the Magnum this time, because he's low on shotgun ammo and doesn't feel like using Matilda.

It makes the head explode, much to your pleasure, so you continue to go up.

You shriek out when a plant zombie drops down the stairs in front of you, and you wonder how the hell it escaped from the Greenhouse and got here.

Leon feels this is the right time to use Matilda, shooting the little yellow bulbs on its body because they seem like weak spots. He knows he's correct when it stuns the creature, which allows you two to back away before using a flame round.

It does the job, so you carefully step over the corpse of the plant zombie, hoping that you'll make it up these stairs without getting scared again.

And surprisingly enough, you do. The room you wander into appears to be a storage area of some kind, the space narrow and filled with cardboard boxes. A single female zombie limps over to you from behind a pile of said boxes, but Leon easily puts her down with one shot of the Lightning Hawk.

He's really on fire with all those headshots. The area is practically safe to walk around in without having to worry about zombies at this point.

You know, if you forget the lickers and the plant zombies in the Greenhouse.

Now that this room is clear as well, Leon is glad to find the circuit breaker in the wall holding a signal modulator. That's his ticket to turning on the power in both the East and the West Area.

You find somebody's note on a small blue chair close by. "It says we gotta 'burn them all'. They're probably talking about the plant dudes. As if we didn't know that already." You raise your brows, putting the note back. It's not really of any use to you anyways.

Other than finding some handgun ammo in a locker, the room is merely a stuffy place that doesn't hold any value to either of you, so you move to unlock the door — and surprisingly enough, you're back where you started a little while ago.

"Huh. So it is all connected like this." You mumble under your breath, actually glad to be back, because this means you've explored pretty much the entire East Area.

Leon takes a few steps forward in the lobby, occupying his mind with the way you should approach things now. You need to put in the code in the terminal to unlock the device in the Testing Lab, turn on the power at like, three different circuit breakers spread across NEST—

The sound of plastic packaging ripping open behind him pulls him right out of it. Turning around, he sees you unwrapping a chocolate bar, then taking a bite out of it.

"Where did you get that?"

"Vending machine in the Lounge." You respond casually. Humming in satisfaction, you hold out the bar to him. "You need to eat."

"I don't."

"You do!"

"The only thing I could go for right now is more vodka. Even if I don't like drinking on the job."

"Alcoholic!"

"I'm not. Really. I could count all the nights I've drank the past year on two hands. Well, three."

"Okay, okay, I believe you. Besides, you're not exactly working right now." You chuckle, and he reminds himself that you don't know about his actual job.

Jesus.

Before he can respond, you reach your hand with the bar out to him, gesturing for him to take it. The corner of his mouth curls up just a bit in mischief when he instead grabs a hold of your wrist, bringing it upwards while simultaneously lowering his head, taking a bite of the bar without removing his piercing gaze from your face.

Watching him chew, swallow and lick his lips makes your heart stop beating for a second. And the fucker doesn't even look away for a second.

He's so close, too close.

It's ridiculous. You've kissed already, confessed to liking one another, it's a well-known fact at this point — so why the fuck does the tension keep rising?

"Thanks," he says, backing away from your face just barely, "better put it away now before I take some more."

The way he says it is low, insinuating something much dirtier than eating chocolate out of your hand, and it makes you shiver — because it's not a warning, it's a promise.

Much to both his and your own surprise, you choke out a small giggle, a smile painted on your face. "Why're you always like this?"

"Don't act like you don't like it, Pumpkin."

The quick retort makes you scoff. "Cocky asshole. Real Prince Charming."

"You know me." He responds coolly. "Doll, we should go. Clock's ticking."

"Oh, so first he flirts, then he says we're running out of time and should hurry." You laugh at him, taking a few steps forward, passing the couches. "Make up your mind, will you?"

It's rare for him to smile, especially rare for it to actually meet his eyes, but God, you just make it so easy. Bantering with you is fun, as a matter of fact, it's the only thing making this night somewhat enjoyable.

"Fair point." He replies, running a hand through his hair. "C'mon. Once we make it out of here, I'll treat you to dinner. Promise."

"I'm keeping you to that, mister."

"You do that." He chuckles as you take the map of the area out from your pocket.

"Alright. Do we use the signal modulator first before using the code for the Greenhouse? Or the other way around?"

"Modulator first." He decides, watching as you go back to business within the blink of an eye. He enjoys seeing you work, for some reason.

"Okay. There's a circuit breaker in the Lounge downstairs and one back in the North Area. We should go to the Lounge together, use that one, I can go to the Nap Room while you enter the code for the Testing Lab in the system."

His expression changes instantly the moment you suggest going your separate ways for the second time tonight. "No."

"It would only be for like, ten minutes max—"

"We followed your plan last time, and it was terrible."

"What—it wasn't terrible! We got the plugs, remember?"

"Uh, yeah, after which you almost died? You were lucky I was there."

"I had a grenade ready, actually."

"Your plans are banned from now on, Doll. Banned. You hear me?"

"It'll save time! Didn't you just say the clock is ticking?"

"Don't turn my words against me like that."

"Yeah, well, you said what you said. We should he able to get me access to the North Area without a wristband in the Server Room."

"I don't want you to—"

"Just let me do this. Please. I'll be fine."

The way you look up at him, with your eyes like that, it gets all the more difficult to refuse. Technically, it would only be for a few minutes, as you said, but he just hates the idea of you walking around here on your own.

You touch his arm, a smart move on your part. You've known him for hours and you already know how to play him like a fiddle, and he fucking knows it.

Yet he gives in anyway.

"Fine." He sighs. "We should head back to the Lounge, then."

Nodding, you quickly go back the same way you just got up here, traveling down the stairs to return to the bloody space filled with bodies.

Stepping over zombies is not exactly the highlight of your day, but you're relieved that they can't get up anymore. Leon shows you how to use the signal modulator once you're both standing by the circuit breaker, which displays the frequency 'MURF'.

He switches to that frequency on the modulator, and he matches the same wavelength for the MURF signal. Once he's done that, he places the device in the circuit breaker, which powers up the place. The lights in the hallway flick on, meaning that the Server Room and Low-Temp Testing Lab should be unlocked now.

"Wanna check those two rooms together first?" He asks you, and you nod your head in agreement.

First up is the Server Room. The sight of the inside of the room is actually pretty impressive. It would be completely dark inside if not for the small but large amount of lights everywhere. There's more shelves with white boxes, a typewriter, even some gunpowder and a combat knife.

After gathering all the supplies, you get to work with the servers. Altering the servers that change the access to the areas of the lab actually turns out to be much easier than expected. Unfortunately, though, it only works for the North and East Area, so you still have to upgrade the wristband to get to the West Area.

"That should do it." You hum in satisfaction, and Leon frowns at how unexpectedly fast you managed to do that just now. "What? Being a chem major consists of more than just standing in a lab, you know."

"I'm sure."

Other than all the resources you found here and the servers needing to be adjusted, there's nothing else here, so you leave just as quick as you entered.

The two of you head down to the Low-Temp Testing Lab, but at a slow pace, in case a licker might show up again. Speaking of lickers — you're stepping over the corpses of the two you shot earlier.

"Fucking disgusting." You say with a grossed out expression, sticking your tongue out.

"You've seen like, seven of them already."

"Yeah, and they're still fucking disgusting. Your point?"

He just rolls his eyes, heading in first. The computer terminal must be registered to the owner of your wristband, Doctor Li, as it chirps out he's got five unread messages the moment you walk closer to it.

There's a body slumped on the nearby wall, and Leon looks at you, doubting it's really worth wasting shotgun ammo. You're not willing to take risks anymore, so you nod, and he takes the shotgun off his back once again.

Moving to read the computer, you lean with your hands on the desk. The emails in Wayne Li's inbox are beyond chaotic, sent during the early hours of the attack on NEST. Doctors panicking, wondering whether the other is alive... you were most likely driving towards the city on your own when that happened. Long before you even met Leon.

They had nowhere to go.

"You okay?" He asks, leaning over your shoulder to check the emails, seeing they must be the reason for your sudden quietness.

"Yeah... Let's keep going."

The room beyond is cold as fuck. It contains gunpowder, but that doesn't hold much importance compared to the cooling system in the very middle. "This is where we need to be to cool the solution, right?"

Leon nods. "Yep."

"Well, we've seen it all then, I guess."

Everything is going weirdly fast all of a sudden compared to earlier tonight, and you realize how close you are to finally getting out of the city.

So merely two minutes later, you're standing outside of the room again. Leon hands you a knife, just in case, because this is the moment you're splitting up.

"Have this." He holds it out for you, though when you grab it, he doesn't let go. "Time limit is seven minutes. You wait for me in the Presentation Room as soon as you've returned. Capische?"

His serious demeanor almost makes you smile a little, but you intend on showing that you're confident in your abilities. "Yes, captain."

"I mean it. Otherwise, dinner is on you when we get out of here." He cracks a smile, which then elicits a giggle from you, but he quickly shuts you up by pressing a swift yet soft kiss to your lips. "Deal?"

"Deal."

You're staring at him now, not moving, and he taps the watch on his wrist. "Seven minutes start now."

"Give me a thirty second head start! You owe me that!" You yell at him almost laughingly while running away from him, as if you're not about to risk your life once more tonight.

"Ten!" He yells back, shaking his head to himself. "Why is she like this?"

He blinks a few times and tries to make himself stop thinking about you and start focusing on getting that solution. He intends to make it within that time limit he gave you too, after all.

He goes back to the basement with the ladder, taking a shortcut to the Greenhouse, and you take the stairs that lead back to the Lobby.

You walk out of the entrance of this area, stopping your running for a second, because there's no way in hell you're running across these damn bridges. They have no safety whatsoever, and you can already imagine yourself tripping, slipping and dying just like that.

Nope. Not today.

Despite your fear of falling into the black abyss underneath your feet, you make it to the North Area with ease. The Security Room must still be locked, so you run past it mindlessly, going on to the very dark hallway with the signal modulator in hand.

While most of the zombies in the cafeteria are dead for good, you still tread carefully, keeping close to the left wall so that the door won't open.

You move through another door, stepping over the dead guy in tactical gear that scared the shit out of you earlier.

Then you finally arrive at the Nap Room. It looks just the same as when you left, which is a good thing, or so you guess.

In order to restore the power, you need to switch to the 'MUF' frequency on the white device in your hands. Matching the wavelengths, which takes a little longer than anticipated, you bite your lip.

You manage to do it nonetheless. Placing the device in the second circuit breaker here, and the last one you know of, the red light turns green and the lights above you flicker on, almost blinding your eyes for a brief moment.

The power being back up causes all three of the nap pods to open up. The one all the way on the left, which you're standing in front of, has a hip pouch. A pleasant surprise.

What's less pleasant, though, is that it turns out your friend Wayne Li is still alive — or, rather, undead.

Notes:

WHEN I TELL Y'ALL WE'RE SO CLOSE TO THE REVEAL. I'm way too excited about it but still.

Also huge thanks to everyone who has shown their support! I appreciate it so much 3

Chapter 13: Fool Me Once

Summary:

Leon's conscience seems to only grow bigger after you're reunited again.

Notes:

content warnings: leon and reader get in a (physical) fight, possibly triggering. this warning also goes for the following chapters up until 18!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The body of the doctor drops to the floor, though not without getting up after, ready to take a bite out of your neck.

The thing about your grenade launcher is that it's not at all practical to use it when the target is too close, because the acid or fire — depending on the type of ammo you're using — might hit you in the process.

So you opt for your handgun, going for the knees instead of the head, as the bodies of the zombies seem a bit fragile sometimes. It's the same with Doctor Li, you notice, seeing him falling flat on his face, after which you step on the back of his head, causing the skull to break and blood to seep out. It's a rather effective move you saw Leon perform earlier tonight, back in the station, now being confident enough to do it yourself. Even if it is beyond gross.

In the nap pod the man fell out just seconds ago, you find a note.

Damn. Seems like a bunch of them were killed by the military, which is just as strange to you as it apparently was to Doctor Li himself. Why the hell would they go for some scientists? Attacking them like this? How was that even authorized by the government? Maybe Leon knows something.

It seems that, aside from the note and the hip pouch, there's nothing else in here. You pout, being a little frustrated that you were so eager to go here, only to be disappointed. This much time and effort for nothing—

Wait. Time.

You've been standing here, reading the note and processing it all in silence, forgetting about the time limit you had before Leon said he'd come looking for you. Shit! You don't want him to grow worried over nothing.

So you run out of the room, hoping you'll make it back to the North Area in time.

Just several minutes earlier, after you went up the stairs, Leon finds himself in the Greenhouse Control Room. He's lucky to have a memory that's serving him so well, as he remembers the code from the underside of the golden trophy distinctly.

The red lock on the screen becomes green in an instant, being unlocked now, so he can finally get the solution.

Now that he doesn't have you and your grenade launcher with him, he has to do his best to avoid the plant zombies. Using ammo on them would be a waste, since the only way to take them down is to burn 'em, and he doesn't have the right gun for that.

He can hear one of them dropping onto the floor at the other side, so he's good for now — and he's made it back to the Testing Lab, empty cartridge in hand. He inserts it into the terminal with ease.

He quickly notices that he needs to fill up the tube on the left to the right amount, which is highlighted by a red ring. He's got three tubes to work with in total, each of them with a different capacity. The one on the left has the highest, the one on the right the lowest. There's three buttons; the green button takes the liquid from the middle tube and dumps it into the right tube. The red button swaps the left and middle tube, while the blue button swaps the middle and right tube.

Rolling his eyes, he huffs. Another puzzle? Of course.

The thing is, normally he solves puzzles rather quickly. They're easy to him. This one, however — not so much.

Nope. This is actually the shittiest damn puzzle yet.

He keeps switching tubes, moving the liquid from the left tube to the middle one, proceeding to get a little frustrated because none of it seems to do the job.

"Jesus fucking—" he inhales sharply, convinced he will actually blow this thing up with one of the grenades he's wearing on his belt, until he sees it.

And that's when he grins to himself, moving the green liquid of the middle tube into the left one, and he's got the right amount.

The device now returns the cartridge with the solution inside, so all that needs to be done now is cool it down in order for it to work properly.

This shit cost him four minutes — so that means he still has three minutes left. That should be enough to get downstairs, cool the cartridge and get back up.

If he jogs a little.

He heads out of the room, back into the cursed Greenhouse, goes down the ladder right before he can become the food of a fucking plant, leaves the basement and heads into the Low-Temp Testing Lab.

The fact that you've already been inside makes it much easier for him, because he knows exactly where to insert the cartridge now.

He puts the cooling terminal to use, having to watch an unbearably long scene in front of him where his cartridge is cooled, which plops back out, giving him just what he needs to destroy the plant in the lab.

Realizing he's only got a few seconds left, he curses to himself and bolts out of the room, running up the stairs — how the hell did these people not have an elevator for this shit? — before jumping over the dead zombie lady in the white coat.

Yet when he arrives back in the Lobby, expecting to see you there, he's met with the sight of an empty room.

It's about thirty seconds after the seven minute mark you agreed on, and he's not sure if he's paranoid for being worried already.

He knows you can handle yourself. He knows it. But still — that doesn't mean that you're invincible.

Neither is he.

It's strange how he's forgotten about the bite on his neck so quickly, but nothing has happened to him so far. He's not displaying any signs when he should've turned a while ago.

He looks down, lifting up the white fabric of the dress shirt. The bite is still there, it still looks the exact same. It makes him frown to himself before he pulls the collar back up again, making sure you won't be able to see it.

Maybe the bite wasn't deep enough — no, it was. So, what, does that mean he's immune to the virus? That would be too much of a coincidence.

His thoughts come to a halt when the other door to the Lobby, the one on the side of the bridge, opens up.

Thank God. It's you.

"Are you okay?" Is the first thing he asks, putting his gun away, his eyes moving rapidly while checking whether anything is wrong. The palms of his hands lift to touch your cheeks instinctively.

The gesture is sweet. "Yeah, 'm all good. You?"

"Good. Got the herbicide." He smiles a little, which makes your eyes light up. "What'd you find in the North Area?"

"A pouch and a useless note. Was not worth those bullets."

He lifts a brow at you when you mention it. "Bullets? What'd you have to use bullets for?"

"Well, turning on the power caused the nap pods to open. One of them was occupied, as we know. Had to shoot him. It was fine, easy, you know, with my top-notch survival skills and all." The statement has you wiggling your eyebrows, and Leon chuckles.

"Survival skills? Didn't know you had those."

"Kennedy, I swear to God—"

"I know, I know, you're getting ready to strangle me as we speak. My apologies. You've got great survival skills. That what you wanna hear?"

"... doesn't sound like you mean it."

"Well that's clearly a you-issue."

"God, now that I think about it, those seven minutes were really peaceful."

"Shit. Really?" He asks, faking being offended. "Wow, Doll. That hurts. I'm gonna go disperse the solution on my own, then, you can wait here. Cruel woman."

"Wait, no, Leon—"

He begins to walk already, with you clinging onto his arm. "Here I thought you liked me."

The ordeal makes you both chuckle a little, and you try to return to deadpanning. "You're hilarious. Really. Crying of laughter. Give me the damn wristband, will you?"

"The wristband? Why?"

"'Cause I like wearing it. Gives me a sense of stability. Who cares?"

"Fine. Not like it holds any value in this area anymore anyways." He responds, taking it off his own wrist to put it around yours. "Better not lose it, though."

"Yes, captain."

You arrive in the Presentation Room, the view of the man in the hazmat suit holding the chip upgrade still ever so present. "I can't believe we're nearly out of here. All we gotta do after this is grab the sample and get out."

Leon fiddles with your hair, pushing it over your shoulder.

The words come out of his mouth before he can stop himself. "Doll, I need to tell you something."

I'm with Umbrella. I'm not a cop. I'm with the people who caused this mess. I never wanted anyone to get hurt—

He doesn't show his emotions clearly, he's usually hard to read — but even you can tell there's something really bothering him. You can tell he's serious with the way he said it.

"What is it?"

"I—" he bites his lip. He can't say it. He can't, because he knows that you'll hate him, you'll never trust him again. He cannot lose you. He refuses to lose you.

"You can trust me, you know that, right?" You tell him, gently touching his arm. "I know I've been joking around a lot, and that I'm naive and shit, and impulsive, way too impulsive, I'm sorry for that, by the way—"

He doesn't let you finish and kisses you instead. It takes you by surprise, but you still kiss him back, only breaking away when you notice his hands are shaking. Your brows furrow, because it's unlike him to act like this.

"Your hands—"

"It's just the adrenaline. And it was cold. You know, in the Low-Temp Testing Lab — I had to cool the solution there." He rambles and smiles awkwardly, and you frown, because this is the most out of character you've seen this man so far.

"Whatever's going on, you can trust me. Seriously. I wanna help you too, it shouldn't just be one-sided."

It's the first time tonight that the roles are reversed. This time it's you who needs to comfort him.

The guilt of lying to you is eating him up alive, breaking his heart the more he grows to care about you, but he can't lose you over the truth. So for now, he has to keep you with him. He won't leave Raccoon City without you.

He deliberately hides his hands from you, kissing the top of your head, briefly stroking your hair. "I know. I'll talk to you about this later. We should go."

As much as you appreciate the gesture, you want to know what's up with him all of a sudden, but you know him well enough to understand that you're not getting anything out of him right now.

"Okay." You sigh, taking George off your back once more, as it's custom for pretty much every time you move back to the Greenhouse area. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."

"That's my girl."

It still makes you blush when he says that, shaking off the worries you have and starting to think about getting out of here.

The universe is on your side, for now. The hallway is clear, and so you manage to get back to the Greenhouse Control Room without any issues.

Leon reaches into his pocket, taking out the dispersal cartridge with the herbicide inside of it. Now that you're where you need to be, he uses the dispersal panel to pump the place full of the herbicide. "Dispensing solution now."

Yes, thank you, Robot Lady, as if we didn't know that already.

It drastically reduces the amount of plant life in the room, making it shrink, changing the colors, killing back the larger flowers, vines and roots. And that's a really good thing, amazing, actually, because it drops the dead scientist in the yellow hazmat suit onto the floor with a loud smack, and now that the vines have shrunk, you're finally able to get to him.

"Alright. Showtime. Be careful, yeah?" He tells you, walking out front. You nod with your gun ready in hand.

"Warning: you have dispersed a dangerous solution without authorization. Your actions have been logged and you may be subject to disciplinary measures."

It's almost too easy to get rid of the plant zombies on the catwalk. They don't move that fast, thankfully enough, and with Leon on standby, you feel safe, even in this fucking creepy place.

You've taken out three of them, and you're really running out of fire rounds here, so you need to move it and get the hell out of here. Now.

Leon finds the purple chip by the body, and when you move to stand next to him, he inserts it into your wristband. That should do the job. You finally have access to the West Area now.

Next to the man who was holding the chip lies another scientist, or so it seems — the man in his white coat appears to be the only one who hasn't turned into a zombie. You wonder who he is and what happened to him.

All of that is rudely interrupted when you and your partner make eye contact with one another, at the same time, because you both hear something.

"Is that... what I think it is?"

Because you hear footsteps. Loud ones. Esteban's footsteps.

Nope. If that fucker is down here you're dead. This is the last thing either of you need right now. The footsteps get louder, and louder, and you look to your left when the motherfucker busts through the fucking glass — which would have been really helpful if he'd done it sooner — and you let out a shriek resembles something close to a scream.

"Fuck me." Leon grumbles, pushing you out of the way before the large man tries to swing at your face.

"Oh my God, I hate that guy so fucking much—I thought we were done with him!"

"Shut up and go!" He yells back at you, and you use two fire rounds you have on the plant zombies coming at you from left and right, leaving only one round left.

It's wildly chaotic inside the Greenhouse. You don't know where to look, you hope you don't trip, and try to look out for your partner all at the same time. It sure as shit raises your anxiety levels to the goddamn roof.

Bigfoot takes a fucking shortcut to stand in front of you, because he's just that kinda guy, and your movement comes to a halt.

This is really, really bad. This fucker will be chasing you in your nightmares. Him in his stupid trenchcoat and small ass fedora. He can go suck it.

While you both change directions now that there's an obstacle in your way, Leon gets an idea. "You go back to the room we were just in, I'll take care of this guy."

"Are you nuts? He'll kill you!"

"No, he won't. Go!"

As much as you wanted to yell at him and protest even more, there's no time, and you know he can handle himself perfectly fine. You give him a last glance before making a run for the door while he lures the giant to the other side of the Greenhouse.

You move through the Control Room, entering the hallway covered in vines for hopefully the last time tonight, using your last fire round on the plant zombie that's attempting to get up in front of you.

Other than that, the way is clear and you manage to make it out without any more scratches than when you entered.

While Leon is still back there, using the Magnum to take down the big guy, you've made it back to the Presentation Room again, and you realize you can check the PC that needed senior staff clearance before.

Using the wristband, the only thing that pops up on the screen is the inbox of a man named Byron Cartwright, a name you recognize from earlier. All the messages have the same sender.

William motherfucking Birkin.

He mentions spies being caught in the NEST, threatening to fire Cartwright unless he stepped up the security game for the place. It's clear he made the decision to restrict access to the West Area, and that he wanted to keep any information regarding the G-virus away from people at Umbrella Headquarters.

For some unbeknownst reason, that doesn't shock you.

What does shock you, though, is the last email he sent.

'An agent named Kennedy was sent here by those damn suits from HQ. I'm betting he's coming for G. Male, 6 ft, early twenties, fit. He needs to be put down as soon as you see him.'

You read the words again and again and proceed to look at the familiar red and white logo at the bottom, that is before your eyes move to the man in question.

He's returned from the Greenhouse, standing in front of you now, his back facing you as he reloads his gun. You try to act normal despite feeling like you're losing it right here, right now.

No, no, no. This cannot be true. It's not possible. Leon is not the enemy.

You're talking about Leon here. The guy you just kissed and tried to comfort not even ten minutes ago. Your one and only partner in crime Leon. There's no way—

You try to give him the benefit of the doubt. Kennedy is a common surname, right? Leon's sweet, protective, caring, and he's... a bit enigmatic, sure, but he doesn't strike you as a liar. Or a killer.

Neither were you a few hours ago, yet here you are. Gun in hand, grenade launcher on your back, a bloody knife attached to your hip.

Who are you kidding? The way he's dressed, how calm he's been the entire night, the way he fights and shoots like it's his second nature. How cold he's been to everyone except you. It's like all the pieces of the puzzle suddenly become one, and a shiver runs down your spine as you realize what you've been missing the entire night.

Leon's with Umbrella.

Jesus Christ.

You don't know what to think. Oh Jesus — what is he going to do to you? Why has he been so nice to you? Fuck. He's manipulated you the whole night into thinking he's one of the good guys, a cop for Christ sakes, and you completely fell for it. Called him a good man. Kissed him. Multiple times. You've grown to care about him in a matter of hours. Hell, you're pretty sure you're in love with the man. Oh God.

But what does he want? He's taking way too much time if killing William and getting a G-sample are his only goals.

Sending someone from the outside into this hellhole means that his mission is of high importance. If Umbrella caused this outbreak on purpose, Leon getting his hands on a sample could mean they're planning another one... but at the cost of what? A huge amount of their own employees?

Shit, that means he lied to Ada too. And she's FBI.

Except Leon doesn't trust her either, which he seemed honest about. Maybe he was actually being honest and maybe she's not FBI — how hypocritical of him to criticize her for lying about her identity.

Or maybe he didn't criticize her at all.

Holy shit. What if they're working together?

No, fuck, no... you're becoming paranoid. It's all too much. You can't think about all that right now.

What are you going to do? You have to get away from him, but you can't just kill him. You're not sure you're even capable of killing someone who's alive and well, and he's not exactly a stranger to you either.

Fighting him is a stupid attempt that will most likely result in your own death rather than his. He's skilled, trained for something like this, and you're not, so you have to gain the upper hand in a different way — and you have to do it now.

With his back facing you, you take your handgun out of its holster and try to muster all the courage you have left before putting it against the back of his head with shaky hands. His body stiffens and eyes widen when he realizes that the cold metal on his skin belongs to the barrel of your firearm.

So this is it, huh? He narrows his eyes. This is the moment she starts hating me.

"You're gonna answer my questions honestly. You lie to me one more time and I'll blow your goddamn head off." The words come out of your mouth surprisingly steadily, even if your voice nearly breaks with each word.

You pause, giving him room to speak, and he does. "I understand." There's no use in lying to you or acting like he doesn't know what you're getting at. You're intelligent enough to understand what's going on here.

He's kinda done with lying to you anyways.

"Are you working for Umbrella?"

"Yes."

"What's your purpose here?"

"Kill Birkin, obtain a sample of the G-virus, execute any remaining survivors."

You grip the pistol a bit tighter, biting your lip, as the next question comes out much angrier than the ones prior. "Was it your plan to just kill me all along?"

It kills him, because he can hear how hurt and betrayed you are just by judging the way you talk. The guilt of it all weighs heavy on his shoulders. He hates himself to the bone.

It's the first time he slightly turns his head so that he can look at you from the corner of his eye. "No."

Your first mistake is that you let him, instead of shooting him like you told him you would. You put the gun against his head with more pressure as you spit out your response. "Don't you fucking lie to me."

Before you know it, he's turned around, taken the gun out of your hand, thrown it on the floor and pressed you against the wall with his left hand on your throat and the other on your arm, having them crossed so you're unable to do anything.

"You done?"

"No I'm not, you asshole!"

His grip on your neck falters so that you can at least breathe again. "Calm the hell down."

"The fuck are you planning with that virus, huh? Sell it? Get it back to Umbrella so they can organize an outbreak like this on a global scale?"

"I don't know what I'm gonna do with it yet!" He angrily stops you from accusing him of anything else, acting out of character, because he's not one to quickly lose his cool.

"Oh, right, I'm sorry, did you need some more time to decide whether you want the world go to hell or not?"

A scoff leaves his mouth. You and your fucking sarcasm.

He's so torn. Knowing Umbrella is the bad guy in this scenario, he feels like he shouldn't take their side, but he knows hell will come for him if he doesn't.

It's unlike him to lose focus like this, and you seem to sense that somehow, because you use the split second you have to kick him on the knee, after which he lets go of your arms, stumbling backwards.

You try to punch him in the jaw but fail when he grabs your wrist, throws you towards the table and bends you over, pushing your cheek flat onto the cold surface with your arms crossed behind your back, though weirdly enough his movements are gentle enough not to actually hurt you.

"You're either gonna come with me willingly or I'll make you. Your choice." He breathes out, because goddamn do you have quite the strength in you when you're angry.

"Oh, fuck you!" You snarl in response, groaning in pain the moment he pulls your arms back even more.

Oh, it sure as hell hurts now. It hurts your back and shoulders to the point where you want to scream. He leans in closer to your ear. "Interesting choice of words considering the position you're in right now."

He's right and you hate it. He's got his front pressed against your ass, and he's not lying when he says he only did that to restrain your legs — but he just can't seem to get those images of you out of his head. He's been fantasizing about you the entire night, for fuck's sake.

"Yeah, I bet you're getting a real kick out of this. What're you, some sadist?" The words roll off your tongue, dripping with venom, yet he can sense the hint of fear behind it.

It's not just because you're afraid to die at his hands, he understands that now.

It's because you're also scared that he might take you right here, right now, without your permission.

That's when his grip on your wrists immediately loosens. He might like to fuck and overstimulate a girl until she cries and begs and tries to push him away, wrecking her to the core — but he would never, ever, touch a woman without her consent.

Not like that. Never like that.

He can be cold, cruel, merciless and utterly ruthless in the field, like the way he tried to kill Claire by attempting to drown her. But that's not even remotely close to being the same as this.

It's silent for a little while, the only sounds in the room being your and his heavy breathing. He sighs, and it's the first time that night that he feels how completely exhausted he is, even if he was trained at an incredibly high level.

He takes the Lightning Hawk out of his holster. "Turn around, sit up straight."

You do as he says, legs dangling from the table. He's got his gun aimed at you, and you hold your hands up.

"This is how it's gonna work. I'm getting a sample out of here. We're gonna kill Birkin, wherever he is, and we'll leave. I'd advise you to come with me willingly instead of causing problems."

"Least you can do is take that gun out of my face."

You're glaring at him, but for some reason, he's willing to give you that much. He lowers his gun but doesn't put it away.

No. You refuse to give in like this. Screw him. You're gonna get that sample before he can, and Leon can politely go fuck himself.

So you don't hesitate for a second when you kick the gun out of his hands and make a run for the door. While he's trying to pick it up from the floor, you're making sure a now toppled over cabinet is blocking his way to the exit. That'll give you just a small head start.

Leon chuckles to himself, knowing you won't get very far. He took the fall — but managed to snatch the wristband in the process, which means you can't escape, even if you tried.

And you notice that very same thing when you stand outside the door, cursing to yourself. Your plan to go to the West Area is ruined now.

That wristband makes all the difference. It's no use to go back to the North Area, there's only about three rooms there and he'll know where to find you immediately. You have to stay in this area, and you both know it, which means that you're trapped.

So you begin to make a run for the stairs the second you hear him lifting up the cabinet from behind the door.

As you run, you try to think. Would he really waste time running after you? Maybe he'll leave you behind to get the sample, it's not like you're able to escape the lab entirely anyways considering the elevator has restricted access.

But as soon as you've made it down the stairs, you understand one thing — Leon Kennedy doesn't like to lose. So it shouldn't come as a surprise that you hear him running down the stairs with rapid speed, chasing you like his goddamn life depends on it.

Which is why you make it your mission to pull a Scooby Doo.

Walk around in the same place without seeing each other.

It's possible that it'll work, but... you fear the worst. Therefore the only question playing in your mind is what the hell he's gonna do to you once he finds you.

Notes:

THE TRUTH IS OUT. I'm actually not satisfied with the way I wrote the reveal but that's that.

A lot will happen between Leon and Reader after this, their relationship will take many turns. The following chapters have been/are hard for me to write because I don't like writing or glamorizing toxic relationships (I most certainly am not trying to do so; just making that clear) but I am still a sucker for somewhat toxic tropes and—well you know what I mean.

Regardless of all that, I hope it was worth the long ass wait since chapter one. Let me know what you think 3

Chapter 14: One Of Us Will Lose

Summary:

Now that the truth has come to the surface, you try to stay out of Leon's reach.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Okay, okay. Steady. Think.

Shit! Where the fuck do I go?

There's a grave error occurring inside your head. You don't know what to do, where to go, how to escape — because you didn't fucking expect to be running from your own goddamn partner.

If only you would've known about this an hour ago. You would have laughed at the idea of it, thinking of it as some bad joke. Maybe if you hadn't been this naive, this stupid, this foolish... you would've seen it. You feel truly hurt, but above that, you feel angry. Really fucking angry that you let him play you like this. That you were nothing but a pawn to him.

No, you're not gonna let that bastard catch you.

So you try to think about what you could do to at least stop him from finding you. Eventually, if he can't find you, he'll leave to go to the West Area. He has to. It's not like you matter that much to him. Not like you thought you did.

Do you even matter to him? At all? Why the fuck is he wasting his time chasing you? Just for the sake of his ego?

Why has he done so much tonight to even try to keep you alive? It doesn't make any sense whatsoever and it drives you completely nuts to the point you want to rip out your hair.

No. Focus. Think of what to do.

You realize you still have the signal modulator with you, which is a good thing in this case.

He has the wristband, you don't have one, certainly not with the right access. You've actually already checked the corpses of the scientists in the area for wristbands, but for some reason, their wristbands seem out of use.

For now, not having a wristband isn't a problem because you turned the system for it off earlier, back when you split up.

That also means that if Leon goes to turn that around again, you'll be trapped in whatever room you're in until he gets there.

Which is exactly why you have to make sure he can't get to the Server Room. You still have two options, however; A) attack Leon when he won't expect it and get the wristband from him to get to the West Area yourself, or B) use the signal modulator (which is luckily still in your possession) to take down the power, which is the safer option, but it means you're definitely trapped in here until Leon decides to go to the West Area for the sample. Turning the power off also equals having less spaces to hide in.

The thing is that Leon is undoubtedly — and annoyingly so — the most unpredictable man you've ever come across in your life, and you don't know what he's gonna do. Besides, you tried to attack him before escaping from him, and to say that attack didn't go well is an understatement.

You go for option B, because it's really the only option for survival right now.

You can fucking hear him coming down the stairs. Your breathing is uneven, hands shaking while you try to match the wavelengths again, heart beating like crazy. "C'mon, c'mon!" You stressfully try to get the device to work, and your eyes widen when it does.

Moving to the circuit breaker in the wall, you put the signal modulator in, praying it'll work. Please, please let it work.

And the fucking universe seems to have heard you, because it actually does the job. You let out a gasp of relief when the lights in the hallway turn off, just like it was when you first arrived here. Fuck yes.

But the door by the stairway opens, and you have to run for your fucking life again, because you can literally see him from the corner of your eye. And you know he saw you too.

Running to the basement, you can choose to go back up the ladder, into the Greenhouse, or hide behind the giant tube in here. You have no ammo left for your grenade launcher, which really sucks, because that means you won't be able to fully kill any of the plant zombies walking around the Greenhouse. As a matter of fact, you'd do best to avoid the Greenhouse altogether, because Bigfoot is still walking around there. Or at least you think so, judging by the footsteps you can hear in the distance.

So that's why you choose to hide. And you need to make it quick, because Leon is really, really fast.

Unfortunately, your partner — or your former partner, as of now — still has the flashlight in his possession. That means you can't see shit.

Somehow you manage to get behind the tube just in time. You stop moving completely when you hear him pushing the door open, stepping into the hall when you're just a few feet away, hiding from him. You've put your hand up to cover your mouth, hopefully preventing him from hearing you breathe.

Hell, you can hear him breathe. You literally feel like you're hiding from a serial killer, which you probably are, but in a certain way it all still feels surreal. Like this is all just part of some terrible nightmare and you can't wake up.

Please go up the ladder. Please go up the ladder—

He merely hums briefly to himself, and it makes your breath hitch in your throat, but you need to keep quiet now.

You can hear noise from the other side of the tube, and you realize that hiding from him actually worked. He's going up the ladder, into the Greenhouse, giving you room to at the very least get out of here.

Yet you don't move when you can tell he's gone from the dark space you find yourself in.

Leaning against the wall, you let yourself drop down to the floor.

Is he really going to kill you?

You spent the whole night fighting for your life, shooting zombies, dogs, actual monsters, your own fucking uncle — only to most likely be executed by the man you fell in love with within half a day.

In all honesty, it's so painfully embarrassing that you want to cry. How could you have missed all the blatantly obvious hints? How the hell did you not see it?

Is this what he wanted to confess to you before you found out yourself?

What the hell has he gained from keeping you alive? You don't believe he actually he cares about you. No. Absolutely not. Not with this stunt he's pulling.

Yet you care about him enough not to shoot him. You still care about him like the idiot you are, and he doesn't give a flying fuck about you.

What you don't seem to understand is that he does. He cares way, way more than he should. Leon casually moves around in the Greenhouse, and he's fucking worried — worried that another licker might pop out somewhere and kill you this time. Worried that one of the plant zombies might get to you before he does. Worried that you might die trying to run from him.

It's so laughable that he wants to gouge out his eyes.

Where the fuck are you? He saw you turn off the power, and he would almost be proud of you for pulling such a smart move if it wasn't to prevent him from finding you. The area is awfully small, and with the power turned off, you can't access the Server Room or the Low-Temp Testing Lab anymore. That leaves the basement, Greenhouse, Drug Testing Lab, Greenhouse Control Room, Presentation Room and Lobby.

And the North Area.

He's trying to place himself in your shoes. What are you going to do? What's your strategy?

He doubts you'll go to the North Area. It's way too small and has few available rooms, not to mention you would have to get past him first.

Don't you understand that running from him is no use? He will find you eventually. The area is way too cramped to keep missing each other. He has a feeling you're not someone who's going to be hiding all night, but rather walk around, ready to take on any opportunity you can get.

He wonders if you'll try to attack him or even kill him, but deep down, he knows you won't. He hurt you by betraying you like this, understandably so, but you won't try to kill him. He's sure of it.

In a way, he's impressed with the way you tried to overpower him when you found out the truth. Yeah, that was something. He's gonna make sure to check that PC once he gets back to the Presentation Room, because something must've been on it, showing his identity.

Perhaps it's insanity. How he thinks of you so fondly, even when you threatened to blow his head off.

Avoiding the plant zombies in the Greenhouse is harder than expected, but he can manage. The only thing really bothering him here is the big guy, who continuously tries to hit him in the face.

The funny thing is that he's just so fucking predictable. You turn left, he turns left. You turn right, he turns right.

Truly, they could've made him a bit smarter.

He checks the Drug Testing Lab first. He thinks it's the only route you could've taken, so he has his gun ready when stepping inside — only to find you're not there.

He's getting annoyed to the point where he can literally feel the wrinkles forming on his forehead.

Well, fuck. That means he's gotta keep going.

God, he wants you back in his presence so bad. He would've approached the situation differently if you'd been sad, crying even, but you're not. You're furious, pushing his limits and running from him, literally, so he has to chase you. He doesn't have a choice here.

If that means being the bad guy in this scenario, so fucking be it.

While Leon moves back out the same way he came in, you tiptoe out of the basement, now standing in the Lounge again.

Your heart is beating so fast you might as well be suffering from cardiac arrest soon. Goddamnit, you think, there's no fucking way out of here. You've got no access to the West Area nor to the elevator, and you have a feeling Sherry has to be there.

It's no use just walking around here. It isn't. Leon was smart to take the wristband from you, knowing it's your one ticket out of here.

So what should you do? You're not gonna hand yourself over to him. No way in hell. He doesn't deserve that satisfaction, nor do you know what he's gonna do to you.

Attacking him is a stupid idea that'll get you killed. He's way more skilled than you are and knows how to fight.

But you had him in the palm of your damn hand earlier. You threatened to shoot him if he moved and yet when he did, you let your emotions take over. No, that's not gonna happen anymore.

You'll have to approach him from behind with your gun to his head again, but from a safe distance this time. He won't be able to do shit to you.

But it's been several minutes since you parted ways, so you have no idea which room he's in right now. Must be somewhere upstairs, though, because he's not here.

You take a deep breath and gently move through the door leading to the staircase.

Leon is standing by the PC now, reading the message Birkin sent to Cartwright, revealing his identity. He scoffs. Out of all the ways he had imagined you'd find out, this was not it.

But he's surprised to know that Birkin even knew he would come. How did he even find out about that? Is there a mole in the Umbrella HQ?

Does that mean that Birkin, as far away from being human as he was, recognized him earlier? Is that why he tried to kill him?

Then again, he tried to kill you too. And you're his niece, for Christ's sake.

It makes him raise his brow. The whole ordeal is strange and it gives him a headache. So that's why he returns his focus to the sole goal he has right now — to find you.

So when he walks out of the Presentation Room, into the Lobby, he could almost laugh, because you're literally standing across the room right now. You can feel your heart sink the very moment your eyes lock with his.

Leon is a bit conflicted now that you're standing in front of him all of a sudden. What the hell should he say to you? He isn't sorry. It's not like you would've trusted him if he had been honest with you from the start, and keeping his work a secret is simply part of the job. He still stands by his decision to withhold the truth from you, at least until escaping the city.

But you won't care if he tells you that. It's not like he's gonna manage to persuade you into coming with him. Nothing he says right now will change your hatred back into love for him. Nothing.

So instead he just chuckles darkly, adding more fuel to the fire. "You really didn't suspect me at all, did you?"

Maybe he should keep his curiosity to himself.

Frowning at his somewhat rhetorical question, you glare at him. What is he trying to do, piss you off even more? "Go to hell."

"Look around, Doll. We're already in it."

Weirdly enough, neither of you seem to be moving to grab a gun, but you do take a step back each time he steps forward. Your heart is beating so painfully fast that you can feel it in your throat.

Blinking a few times, you shake your head. It's like trying to calm down a hungry predator of which you are the prey. "Leave me alone, Leon."

"Can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Won't." He admits casually. "Not that it'll change anything."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He takes another step towards you. "If you know what's good for you, you'll come with me."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope." He shakes his head, his hands itching to touch you, because you're so close yet at such a distance. "Hate to break it to you, but you don't really have a choice in this. The only way out of here is with me."

"What did you expect? That I would just say yes and go with you as if you haven't been lying to me all night?"

"No, I know you better than that. This is me trying to be nice."

"Really?" A humorless chuckle leaves your mouth. "Would hate to catch you when you're angry."

He nods, biting back immediately. "You would."

His gaze could kill. He's trying to intimidate you, and you hate to admit it, but it's working. You're trying to keep him talking so you can come up with a proper plan, because really, you have no idea what to do now.

"What're you gonna do when you catch me, huh? Kill me?"

"No."

"Stop fucking lying to me!" You tell him angrily, still moving backwards.

"That wasn't a lie." Just when you think he might be a little distracted, eyes moving away from you for a split second, you make a run for it, and he begins to chase you immediately. "Where you going, Sweetheart?" The question comes out tauntingly while he comes after you once more.

Fuck! You should've known you would unintentionally run into him again. You should've seen it coming, but you didn't.

With the only option being to go back down the stairs again, you run through the door and pull over a cabinet so he won't catch up to you in time.

Shit, shit, shit. You just can't seem to get rid of him, no matter what you do.

Deciding to take a small risk, you run down the stairs faster than you ever have in your life — and nearly tripping in the process — before hiding in the dark next to the bottom of it instead of going back to the Lounge again.

Leon will actually have to pass you, so if he as much as turns his head or hears you breathe, you're done for. That's it. Game over.

Like before, you hear his quick footsteps moving down the staircase just like before. Except this time, they're much louder because you're still there.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you slap your hand over your mouth and put the remaining one on your chest. Calm down, you try to think to yourself.

And holy shit — it works.

It goes exactly like you planned. Leon runs to the Lounge just as you hoped he would.

The thing is, now you have to come up with another plan, because you need to figure out what to do next. You want to try to attack him, you've established that much, but with these rooms, you just don't have the opportunity to sneak up on him.

With shaky hands, you push yourself up from the floor, the corpse of a zombie still next to you.

It makes you feel sick to the point where you want to throw up.

You get the idea to move back up the stairs again. The one room where you can somewhat keep an eye on him is from the Presentation Room, which is where you'll be able to spot him if he decides to move through the Greenhouse, which would make sense, because he believes you just went back in that direction.

The first few steps on the stairs are careful and as quiet as possible. It feels as if your life is depending on this.

When you're halfway, you start to jog again, confident that he's out of earshot. He has to be. With only a few steps left, then running through the Lobby, you've made it back to the shitty room where you discovered the truth about him.

It makes your blood boil when his words and actions run through your mind again, but you just clench your fists and jaw. There's more important things to lose your mind about now, such as, you know, taking your former partner hostage.

Focusing on the inside of the Greenhouse, you spot many, many enemies. There's plant zombies, Esteban is still stomping around like a confused puppy — which is the only thing that could make you genuinely laugh right now — but no man in a suit to be detected.

Nothing. Nada. Not as much as a trace of him.

So you wait a few minutes, which actually feels more like hours. Where is he? Did he go into the Drug Testing Lab? What did he do in the sole minute and a half you wasted moving your ass back up the stairs, into this room?

With your heart still painfully beating in your chest, you bite your lip, eyelashes fluttering as you think of your next move.

The Greenhouse is scary territory. You have no fire rounds left for the grenade launcher, so you can't fully kill the enemies inside. Not to mention Bigfoot still walking around, fucking waiting for you to hop in so he can use you as his own personal punching bag.

Yeah, no. If you die here, it will not be because of him. Nope.

A shiver runs down your spine when you recall how Ben died earlier tonight in the jail. Yikes.

For some reason, you begin to feel a little icky all of a sudden. It's too calm, too quiet here, nothing is happening — and it feels like you're being watched.

Which is your cue to get the fuck out.

For a brief moment, you consider turning to the North Area, but the idea leaves your mind as soon as it came. The place holds no space to hide whatsoever, with two or three zombies still alive there as well, so you believe in some fucked up way, you're better off here.

Even if some apparent maniac is trying to track you down.

Purely out of instinct, you want to check out the Server Room again. Maybe there is a way to redirect the power from the West Area so that you don't require the wristband to get in there. It's a long shot, but you'll be damned if you don't try.

Jesus Christ, you're convinced your heart will give out on you soon if you have to run down those stairs one more damn time.

You arrive back in the hallway that leads back to the Lounge for what seems like the 13th time tonight, carefully tiptoeing forward. You know, just in case.

The first thing you notice is the malfunction of a few of the lights there, and being without a flashlight, you can barely see anything. Yet as you turn the corner, you stop dead in your tracks, breath hitching in your throat.

Because even in the darkness, the sight in front of you is horrifying.

Two zombie dogs, a decapitated zombie as well as a licker are laying on the floor, a large pool of blood around the blown apart corpses. The only thing lighting up the dark space is the red light of the circuit breaker in the wall, making it even more ominous than it already is.

What the fuck—where did those things even come from? You've walked around the area several times and not noticed a single one of them.

Taking a few steps back, you turn back around the corner without realizing it, thinking it will be safe simply because it's so damn quiet in the place.

Your back collides with something, making you spin around within the blink of an eye, and you have not been this scared the entire night. This kind of fear is one you haven't felt until now — and it makes your heart beat like crazy in your chest.

He grabs you by your arms faster than you can comprehend, ensuring you won't escape from him this time.

But the fact that he's got so much more blood on his suit and face than just minutes before really makes the scene all the more horrifying.

"I really wish you hadn't done that." The words come out of his mouth in such a mocking way. His brows scrunch together, almost as if he's being genuine, but you both know that he isn't.

"Stop! Get off me! No!" You yell at him while he tightens his grip on your body, trapping you in his hold.

He pushes you up against the wall, and Jesus Christ does he look pissed. He's got his nostrils flared, his breathing is heavy and he actually feels like he just might choke the fucking life out of a nearby zombie, should one wake up from the dead.

Yeah. He's done playing nice.

"Hands behind your fucking back."

It's the first time tonight he's actually intimidating you with his words and demeanor, so you do as he says. You begin to grow even more wary of what he might be capable of.

Every thought you had is pushed out of the window when you hear the buckle of his belt.

He's taking it off.

He's still restraining you, and you're scared of what'll happen next. He takes your hands, putting them higher up in the air to wrap his belt around your wrists.

While he's doing so, he starts to talk, his voice awfully monotone. "Let me be clear. You disobey me one more time and I will lock you up in a room filled with zombies, and we both know what that'll do. Your little cousin will die on her own. Who knows, maybe you'll even get to eat her once you've turned into a brainless monster."

He's glad he didn't tell you that Sherry is with Claire, because now he can manipulate you into thinking she's possibly in danger.

Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with him?

His words are unnecessarily cruel and you both know it. Your heart rate speeds up while his remains the same.

It's not like him to act like this. He's usually not one to be this harsh, but the feeling he gets from inflicting just a tiny bit of pain in your shoulders as well as regaining the control he's had over you almost all night — it's addicting. He's seething, the adrenaline in his body mixing it up to be some twisted feeling that's something awfully close to sadism.

In any other situation, he wouldn't enjoy seeing you try to avoid his gaze because you can't handle the eye contact. He wouldn't enjoy it. But right now, some fucked up part of him really does.

Part of him can't help enjoying being the smartest guy in the room. He knows it's a terrible characteristic, perhaps even a fatal flaw of his — but he can't find it in him to care. Not when he's always been surrounded by people who were way worse than he was.

But the thing is that there's also waves of guilt and sadness that hit him every now and then. Like it's his brain reminding him that he's got a conscience. A small one, but regardless. As if it's reminding him that he's probably sick for being the way he is.

So he could never do the things he just told you he would. He's grown way too attached to you and he knows it. He could never lock you or some innocent kid inside a room with zombies either, let alone your damn cousin. He's cruel, but not that cruel.

He's bluffing, but you don't know that.

You're both messes. Torn up by emotions, with you going back and forth in anger and fear and him in frustration and guilt.

You want to cry and scream and he wants to throw up.

Leon breathes in and out for a moment, stilling his movements and closing his eyes for just a brief second of peace. "We're gonna go get that sample. We're gonna get Sherry and then we get the hell out of here. What we do after that is something we can decide later. Whether you stay with me then is up to you."

Furrowing your brows, you try to breathe. "Why would you want me to stick with you after we escape?"

"Because you might hate me now, but I don't hate you." He says, and when you're thinking about his answer, he puts his gun away. "No sudden moves. Understood?"

You grit your teeth, unable to hold back a sarcastic reply. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Let's move."

You walk out of the Lounge, having no idea what the actual fuck just happened between the two of you.

Notes:

shorter chapter, sorry! i couldn't make the chase much longer because of the limited space in the area.

next two chapters are gonna be VERY interesting though… shit's gonna go down ;)

Chapter 15: Dead Men Tell No Tales

Summary:

The tension between you and Leon only increases, with more of the truth behind the outbreak revealed.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

It's ridiculous.

With your hands still tied behind your back, you force yourself to go up the stairs, with Leon still holding you by your wrists.

You refuse to look at him or say anything whatsoever. Partially because you don't know what to say to him anymore, partially because you're fucking exhausted.

In all honesty, you feel like you failed. It feels like you could've and should've succeeded at beating him at his own game, but he outsmarted you again. It makes you feel stupid and you detest that feeling with every fiber of your being.

You've made it back to the Lobby, and he doesn't have to say anything for you to know you'll be heading to the West Area now.

The Main Shaft is just as you remembered it, because while you were there not long ago, it still feels like ages.

Walking over the bridge is scary with your hands wrapped behind your back. Leon puts his hand on your hip when he sees you're trying your best to keep your balance.

It makes you flinch, but you don't say anything about it. Neither does he. It's been quiet between you two ever since you left the Lounge, leaving a thick and palpable tension in the air.

As soon as you've arrived at the elevator, you move to the control terminal for the West Area. With the upgraded wristband, he manages to get access, which means you're gonna go get one of the virus samples now.

Now that he's not focusing on you, you think he might just be distracted enough for you to try something.

You attempt to reach for the knife in one of his few pockets, which you could use it to cut the belt off. Your movements are subtle, yet because he's watching you like a hawk, he sees what you're trying to do immediately.

Leon clenches his jaw, pushing your hands back to where they were in the first place. "Stop testing my patience or you'll regret it."

"Least I could try."

"Don't. It won't work."

You're feeling less angry now, more so annoyed. The mood swings have certainly not left you yet.

"Why are you even keeping me around? Seriously. I have nothing to offer you in exchange for my life, and the only reason someone like you would keep me alive is for personal gain." The look in his eyes changes into something you can't pinpoint. They move rapidly, shifting from focusing on your one eye to the other. Because he keeps quiet, you add another question. "What do you want from me, Leon?"

He doesn't really know what it is exactly he wants from you. Maybe he just wants it all — your heart, your body, everything.

His brows knit together when he sees how you're looking at him now. You took care of him when he got shot, cared about him despite knowing him for less than a few hours, were worried for him when he was walking around in a different place. You used to look at him like he was your only source of safety and happiness, now all he gets from you is anger and hatred. How the hell is he going to get your affection now?

The realization hits him like a truck, and he has to swallow the sudden lump in his throat if he wants to keep his words steady.

But he just can't fathom the idea of letting you go. Having you walk out of his life is something he never wants to think about again.

Of course he understands how fucked up the situation is. He's hurting you because right now, you are all he has. The one thing that keeps him going.

You despise him and he loves you.

But naturally he doesn't tell you that. He's just going to act like the asshole he is, apparently.

Leon's warm hand moves to your chin, holding it as if he were leaning in for a kiss. "You shouldn't ask questions you already know the answer to, it's not polite." His voice is so awfully monotonous to the point that it makes the hairs on your skin stand upright. "Try to run or attack me again and I'll hurt you. I'd advise you to take my word on that, unless you'd like a demonstration. If you don't stop squirming, I'll use my tie to gag you. Your choice."

He's so close to your face that you can feel his hot breath fanning over your lips. "You're a sick bastard."

"I guess so." He responds with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"You're an idiot if you think I'll just let you hold me hostage. You may need me for some unbeknownst reason, but I sure as shit don't need you." You huff out of frustration.

The thing about Leon is that he can be merciful if he wants to — but you have one hell of a way of pushing his buttons sometimes. No, he won't try to teach you a lesson—

—actually, yes, he will.

"Turn around."

"Why?"

"Because I said so, obviously?" He sighs and spins you around rapidly, pressing your face into the wall. "How's the belt? Too tight?"

Neither of you believe he's voicing genuine concern. "Maybe if you loosen it, I'll be less of a pain in your ass." You tell him with a glare, even if he can't see it.

He grabs a hold of the strap, and you think for a moment he's actually going to loosen it — but nothing is less true, because he tightens it instead to the point it hurts.

Just when you want to protest, the feeling of cold metal against the back of your head makes your eyes widen. You're at a loss for words, not knowing that's exactly what he wanted.

"You wanna get out of here alive?" He asks, and you swallow but don't reply. "Answer me."

"Yes." Your voice is small, you feel small, because he's doing the exact same to you as you did to him earlier.

"Then stop disobeying me and start working with me here. Follow my lead and you'll get out of here alive and unharmed. Is that understood?"

With defeat and exhaustion noticeable in your tone, you let out deep breath. "How am I supposed to trust you?"

It's a good question, or so he thinks. He can understand why you're doubting everything he says. He hasn't exactly been very kind to you. He curses himself for it.

"I can't prove myself to you."

"You could untie me."

"We both know I can't do that." He shakes his head, turning you around so you can face him. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

The pitch of your voice has turned a bit higher, quieter. It's unsteady and you have to make sure you don't start to cry in front of him here. "Why not? I have nowhere to go—"

He cuts you off by gently putting his hand on your cheek, and he ignores all the sentences running through his head that he shouldn't. "As soon as I've gotten you to safety, I'll let you go. I promise."

Internally, he's begging you not to cry. He won't he able to handle that. He can handle your anger and annoyance, but if you start tearing up, that'll be his undoing.

You can't seem to figure him out. Why is he doing this? Why not just let you go? Not to mention his actions are a stark difference to his words. How can someone be so cruel and caring at the same time?

Closing your eyes for a second, you decide to stop fighting it and you let your arms sag. "Fine."

"Good. Let's go."

You swallow your anxiety when you begin to move to the West Area. His hands guide you again, taking you from one side of the bridge to the other.

"Don't think for a second I'll stop hating on you, though." You tell him, and he lets out a humorless chuckle while walking after you.

"Didn't expect you to."

The two of you move into the uncharted territory. It's a dark hall, similar to the first two areas you explored, finding another dead soldier in combat gear seated on the floor, leaning against the wall.

As you move closer to the body covered in blood, both of you realize that the man is actually dead rather than undead. He most likely didn't get infected, just attacked. He's still holding onto a grenade as well as a video cassette labeled 'Operation NESTWRECKER 1'.

That's certainly interesting.

Further into the room, you discover that the power is off in here as well. With Leon having the signal modulator in his possession — which he took from you as soon as he caught you — he's able to turn the power on by setting the modulator to the OSS frequency.

He places the white device into the circuit breaker, causing the lights to flicker on and the nearby TV and VCR to power up. Putting the signal modulator down, he grabs the video tape and puts it into the TV.

The screen shows a group of soldiers in tactical gear confronting your uncle in his lab. He's ordered to hand over the G-virus, but he refuses, after which he's shot in the chest numerous times, much to the agitation of one of the soldiers. Killing him wasn't part of their plan, apparently. The soldiers move out of the room after reporting the situation to their superior and grabbing the briefcase with the samples, leaving William behind as he bleeds out on the floor.

"I'm sorry you had to see that."

Leon's words make you furrow your brows. "We've had to fight him to the death like, twice already."

"Yeah, but that was his mutated form. This is him, as a human being, probably before he even got infected."

The man standing by your side has a point, and you both know it, yet it still doesn't faze you as much as it probably should. You swallow the fact that you feel worse and worse with every step you take in this godforsaken place and shake your head, attempting to push your emotions as much out of your mind as you possibly can.

"Let's just move." You tell him, and Leon stops himself from raising his brow at your carelessness, but he lets it go for now.

He sighs and nods in agreement, pulling you with him with more care this time. He stops quickly after though, seeing the screen of the PC nearby has a message on it. You're reading the words with a frown on your face, discovering that the project for the G-virus was initially suspended, but William went through with it nonetheless.

The last message, sent by someone named Jane Doyle, shows that William was apparently in contact with the U.S. Military regarding the virus. "What the fuck?" You mutter to yourself.

The image of your uncle bleeding out on that tape alongside this newly gained information really hits close to home for you. Whatever the hell happened here is much bigger than some outbreak — not that that isn't big as it is — but something strange has been happening here for a longer period of time. Scientists catching spies in their underground lab, soldiers killing employees, reporters digging into the story and ending up dead, healthy children being experimented on and thrown away once they've 'failed' the experiments—

You're starting to wonder whether this is really real instead of some ridiculously horrifying nightmare.

"So G wasn't ready." Leon suddenly chuckles beside you. "He allowed himself to get shot for samples of an incomplete virus? Imagine being that blinded by ambition."

You frown. "That's what you got out of all this?"

"Yeah. You have a problem with that?"

Trying to come up with the right thing to say, you pause for a moment. "How much do you know about what happened to him? You were sent here to kill him, after all."

He narrows his eyes just a little, pushing the button on the keypad to make the messages leave the screen. "More than you do."

"No shit, Sherlock. I want to know what."

"Good for you. Not gonna tell you anything right now, though."

Being sick of his damn attitude, you stomp your foot onto his kneecap. "Go fuck yourself, asshole."

He clenches his jaw, groaning at the pain you just caused him, and as much as he wants to play nice, you're really testing his limits here.

So he musters all the control he has over his own anger and takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring because he's fucking seething, his grip on your arm becoming so painful that you can already feel the bruise forming. "Cut that shit out. I'm serious. I care about you, but if you keep going at me like this, I'm gonna hurt you like I don't."

"You wouldn't—"

"I would. You know I would. Don't make me, Doll."

Him calling you that after everything that's happened between you now tugs at your heartstrings.

God, you hate him. You hate him so much for all of this.

Maybe you hate him even more for still making your heart flutter in a sick, twisted way it absolutely shouldn't. You have got to be crazy for still caring about him after all the shit he's pulled.

"You're gonna pay for this, you know." You tell him, clenching your fists behind your back, and your voice shows how hurt you are. "For everything you're doing here. You'll pay for all of it."

He seems surprised by your words, the eye contact he's having with you suddenly growing heavy for him. Just having to treat you like this is already punishment enough. He doesn't want to, he doesn't, all he wants is to hold you like you're his lover, make you forget all the terrible things you've seen him do and have you fall in love with him. He craves it. "Believe me when I tell you I already am."

Before you can say anything else, he drags you with him to go get a sample. You proceed to the next room. Your eyes scan the yellow hazmat suits on the rack, as well as the few thrown across the room. Leon grabs the gunpowder he finds on the bench. The lockers appear empty of anything of value, so you move on to the next room.

The corridor is much smaller, the neon blue lights almost hurting your eyes with how bright they are. Water emits from the sprinklers in the wall and the ceiling, which is pretty refreshing, actually. After passing the blue lights, the system blows warm air onto you. It feels strange, because you have no idea where you're going right now.

The door in front of you opens and you're met with the sight of a huge room, maybe the biggest you've been in so far. It's quite impressive, even if it is nearly completely dark, only lit up with the tiny lights in the walls. The only way to get to the other side is to walk across the platform in the middle, and when you look up, you see the massive Umbrella logo on the ceiling.

You get the feeling that something's about to happen to either of you in here, but you have to shrug it off when your companion makes it clear you have no reason to be standing still. It's silent between you once again, even if your heart doesn't stop pounding in your chest for some reason.

Reaching the other side of the room, you move through another door, and the first thing that catches your eye is the amount of red lights on the walls. This has got to be it — this has got to be where William conducted his research. This is his lab.

The lab is even more impressive than the room you were just in. It has some, uh, fun samples on display in front of you. The three organic tissues are each stored inside these large capsules.

As you look around, you see that the room has many interesting things you shouldn't overlook. Lab equipments, files, lockers, an aquarium... this should be interesting.

"You know, you can unwrap my hands now. You have the wristband anyways, so I can't leave."

"Maybe I would've if you hadn't been such a brat."

His response makes you roll your eyes. Naturally. Why did you even think he'd let you have that?

Much to your disapproval, he pushes you down to sit on the chair by the PC directly on the left.

On the screen, you see the words 'Research Diary' and Leon clicks further using the keypad. They keep mentioning subjects being disposed of, subjects being humans, and it sends a shiver down your spine. One of the subjects even lost it during the experimentation and took their own life. Growth observations, breeding rate observations, T-virus resistance experimentation...

It all makes you feel a little dizzy, but the final page is what makes your eyes widen to the point they might pop out of your skull.

'Significant progress has been made regarding G. It's been discovered that the original host, patient zero, creates a variant unique to the original host. If patient zero implants an individual with an embryo who isn't related, the body rejects the process. This happens due to the fact that G-embryos try and change people into patient zero by rewriting the host's DNA. This fails because the host isn't related to patient zero. A subject being a (direct) blood relation means that the process will be more stable and more biologically compatible. Patient 701 will be arriving in a few days for further testing regarding the G-virus. Subject is related to Dr. William Birkin.'

You're convinced can actually feel your soul leaving your body. Your hands begin to tremble behind your back, as does the rest of your body, feeling so suddenly nauseous that you don't know where to look.

"I'm patient 701." The words leave your mouth while a huge lump is forming in your throat, and you clench your fists once more tonight, to try to get a fucking grip on what you just read.

Leon feels incredibly sorry for you. You told him you were here to spend some time with Sherry, your cousin, and instead you find the city full of zombies, William in his mutated form trying to kill you, Sherry gone, him lying to you, and now discovering that your uncle was planning on experimenting on you, despite knowing it has horrifyingly killed people before.

Jesus Christ.

"He wasn't trying to kill you, those two times we fought him." Leon realizes out loud, causing you to turn your head to him. "He was trying to implant you with an embryo. He's patient zero, and you're related to him."

"Sounds like a good theory." You respond with a blank face.

So far, you haven't really reacted, and he feels like he should comfort you. "Doll, I'm sorry you have to go through this—"

"No." Your mind is racing, but having some knowledge of this field of scientific expertise, you detect a small flaw in the system. "It makes no sense."

"What?"

"He called me two weeks ago to arrange me coming here. The city wasn't like this back then — the email that Jane Doyle sent to him about catching him red handed was sent way after that. He had no reasons to inject himself with G back then. So why invite me and use me as a test subject? Hell, why would he even think of using it on himself? Why not just grab a random parent and their kid? They'd killed enough innocents at that point anyways, so it's not like they'd bat an eye at it."

Leon listens to your argumentation, and he nods, still hovering over you, leaning on the back of the chair. "Well, you heard what he said on the tape. He wanted G to be his, said it was his creation."

"But injecting himself with G equals dying."

"Honestly? I believe he would've done anything to keep the virus from anyone else, even back when no one was suspecting anything."

"But what good would injecting himself do him?"

"Princess, did you even watch the tape?" He asks you rhetorically. "The man defended himself against a group of heavily armed soldiers despite knowing he was most likely gonna die trying to do it. He did everything for G. Probably considered it his life's work."

"So he just went completely nuts because he wanted to keep it to himself? Even if it meant dying in the process?"

"'If I can't have it, no one can'. Mad scientist 101."

As crazy as it all sounds, there's a rather big hint of truth behind it, and you know how dedicated the man has always been to his work. Sherry always told you he and Annette were usually gone, leaving the poor girl feeling like she doesn't have any parents who care.

You sigh, closing your eyes, because for some reason, you feel ashamed. "I can't believe he was ready to—ready to experiment on me. I'm referred to as 'patient', 'subject'. I can't believe—I—"

With your breathing becoming heavier, it's like the reality has finally dawned on you, and you can't catch your breath.

Leon recognizes the beginning of a panic attack when he sees one, so he kneels on the floor in front of you, putting his hand on your shoulder. "Hey, you're okay. He didn't get to infect you, he mutated and you will get out of here unscathed."

"He was ready to kill me, Leon." You express your sadness with tears welling up in your eyes. "Ready to wipe me off the face of the earth and 'dispose' of me as if I'm some nobody. Not even a name on the list, just a fucking number."

Seeing you like this, hearing you say those things — it hurts his heart. He struggles more than he likes to admit in finding the right words to comfort you. "He's going to die. He won't make it out of this city alive. You will. You know that, right?"

Swallowing, you try to stop the tears from coming. Come on, you can't be crying in front of the guy who betrayed you the way he did. Seriously. It's ridiculous. "No matter where I go in this place, doom seems to follow me. I should've known something was up when he called me, I should've been able to save Elliot from getting infected, I should've been able to get to Sherry faster, I should've known you were hiding something from me, I've been too fucking naive—"

"No." He says sternly, gently taking a hold of your chin to get you to look at him again. "You don't get to blame yourself for being naive. All you have done so far is try to survive. We're in a city infested with zombies and God knows what else — you've done everything you could. If anything, it's me who shouldn't have taken advantage of the situation to trick you and everyone else we've met in here. It's all on me."

Yet as honest as he might be right now, you can't help but think about how angry he was just minutes earlier, how embarrassed he's made you feel, and how your hands are still tied behind your fucking back.

So you do everything in your power to stop being sentimental immediately, as hard as it may be.

Now that you've cried, you feel like your mind is a bit blank anyways, so that's certainly helping.

With a face devoid of any emotion whatsoever, you blink slowly. "Just go and get the sample. That's why we're here, isn't it?"

It's truly strange to him, all these mood swings of yours. Then again, he's no better, going back and forth between being the coldest fucker he's ever been to some sentimental, lovesick boy. It's annoying.

Ugh. Feelings. Sometimes he wishes he was foreign to the concept.

He decides to go along with your words and moves to the space behind you, which he now recognizes as the far corner where William Birkin was gunned down.

The sample's just casually sitting here, right in front of him, so he just goes for it and grabs it.

It's almost too easy, or so he thinks when holding the test-tube with the purple, see-through liquid in it.

"Attention: Unauthorized removal of a [Level 4] virus detected. Facility lockdown initiated. Self-destruct sequence will begin when lockdown is complete."

Of course. Yeah, he should've seen that one coming.

The message keeps repeating through the speakers, an alarm blaring in the background, and he realizes he needs to fucking move.

Making his way to the other side of the room, he finds two desks with some valuable resources, ready for him to take. Some gunpowder, a first aid spray and some shotgun shells.

You eye his movements curiously, spacing out a little while you're still seated in the chair.

It would've been funny if you didn't feel like you wanted to pass out.

Yeah, life's not that good at the moment. Really, really not good.

Leon grabs everything he needs, tucking the sample away safely in his suit vest, jogging over to you. "Time to go."

Still unsettled by the things you just discovered, you exit the room together, ready to begin your search for Sherry and escape the facility. You step onto the platform with an empty look on your face, not sure what to think anymore.

You're halfway there when the door in front of you opens, showing a familiar face. The red of her outfit stands out to you once more.

You're shocked and Leon is beyond annoyed.

So he raises his gun and pulls you closer to him by your waist, should she decide to do something. "You again?"

Notes:

another short one! had a hard time writing this one and my perfectionist ass is still not satisfied with the result, but i decided to let it go and post it regardless. next one's gonna be longer, lots of dialogue, lots of things happening.

is it claire? is it ada? who knows.

ALSO thank you all so much for leaving kudos and comments! they truly make me insanely happy so thank you for all the support 3

Chapter 16: Equating Pain With Success

Summary:

The West Area of NEST seems to attract many familiar faces.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The hurricane of a being that is Claire Redfield stands in front of the two of you with a scowl on her face, her red jacket and dark blue jeans covered in blood and dirt, her blue eyes hardened. "You bastard."

Leon's grip on your arm tightens, as well as his grip on Matilda. "I told you I'd kill you if I saw you again."

You listen to the exchange with wide eyes. What the hell? Why is she so hostile towards him? The last time you all saw each other was at the courtyard of the station, and none of you knew Leon was with Umbrella at that time. So how does she know? Did they meet up somewhere behind your back?

She shakes her head. "Not if I kill you first."

"I'm pretty sure that's my line." He retorts with a stern voice, still not loosening his grip on you. "And what're you gonna do with that flamethrower, hm? Burn us both to ashes?"

He refers to the two of you on purpose, because everyone in the room knows that Claire made a mistake by putting up the flamethrower. It doesn't work for the distance between her and the two of you and the fire will hurt you too if she decides to use it. He's still holding you firmly, because you're his protection — his human shield.

He knows Claire won't do anything if it means injuring you in the process. He would never actually put you at risk.

"Cute." He mocks her tauntingly. "Put it down."

"And then what? You'll shoot me?"

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

Swallowing audibly while feeling Leon's hot breath in your neck, you try to get them both to calm down. It doesn't help that both of them have quite the fire in them. "Claire... please, just put it down."

She shifts her eyes to look at you, furrowing her brows when she focuses on your wrists tied behind your back. "You can't be serious."

"Does it look like I'm kidding?" You retort with frustration audible in your tone. Leon is pleasantly surprised with your words. Of course he understands you're trying to save her life, because all of you know that he's got the upper hand here.

He always does.

Claire is trying to think of what to do, but her issue is directly thrown out the window when something drops out of the ceiling behind you.

The three of you turn your heads to the seemingly immortal creature that once was your uncle.

With rising annoyance, you clench your fists. "How is that fucker not dead yet?"

The door behind you suddenly opens once more, and the last person you want to see right now pushes you out of the way to get past you. "He's mine." Annette holds up a flare gun, shooting two acid-like rounds at William's mutated form, causing him to drop on the middle of the platform. "I'm sorry, William. But you left me no other choice."

He hisses in pain, large eyes twitching, but is taken out nonetheless. The bastard isn't even moving anymore.

You chuckle humorlessly, feeling your sanity crumbling with each passing second. "So you're telling me we wasted all our resources on this motherfucker when I could've used two acid rounds on him and ended it all? Wow. Fuck this."

She appears to be ignoring your words altogether, though. "It shouldn't have been like this." She says while shaking her head, briefly closing her eyes, as Claire moves to sit by William's large corpse. "It's Umbrella's fault, this whole mess."

Leon grimaces while standing next to her. "It's all your husband's fault, actually."

Oh, she did not like that statement. "You have no idea what went down here, Agent Kennedy."

He grins condescendingly for a moment before a glare returns to his face. "William was planning on selling G to the U.S. Military. My superiors at Umbrella HQ were tipped off by their own moles in said military that he was a traitor. A team of U.S.S. soldiers was sent here to retrieve G, they shot him because he wouldn't comply. He chased them once he'd injected himself with the virus and turned into this ugly monster, killing them all. He released another virus into the city's water supply, which turned thousands of people into zombies — and you have the audacity to tell me I have no idea what happened here?"

While she seems taken aback by his knowledge, she returns to her hostile act rather quickly. "Yes. Because you still don't know everything."

"Enlighten me."

Annette sighs. "I found him just after he'd been shot. I saw him injecting himself with the G-virus, and I should've... I could've killed him right there and then. But I didn't. I never meant for any of this to happen, none of us did—"

"Why develop a virus like that in the first place? Why in hell did you think that was a good idea?" You ask her angrily, hearing how she could've prevented so many people from dying. "Creating something like that is disastrous. Everyone with an average IQ can understand that."

"Just because we made the G-virus doesn't mean—"

She's cut off the moment William's corpse shows that he's not so dead after all, grabbing her and sending her across the room. She's lucky that he didn't throw her against the wall, so she only hits the floor on the other end of the platform.

William begins to become aggressive again, trying to hit the three of you still standing at this side of the platform. Annette pushes a button from where she's standing, having seemingly gotten up from the floor. An alarm begins to echo through the room, red lights flickering — and that's how you know you're completely, inevitably fucked.

Because right after, chaos starts to ensue, and William hits you right in the face with one of his many claws. You feel a stinging pain on your cheek, and after touching it, you find your hand drenched in blood.

Leon sees the large cut on your cheek, knowing that's definitely gonna leave a nasty scar, and his anger flares up immediately.

"What the fuck!?" Claire exclaims, looking at Annette while trying to dodge the monster.

"We can't let him get away!" She yells from the other side, and the platform begins to lower itself.

Leon, who was standing a little too close to you, jumps onto the platform, a stern look on his face. In any other circumstance, he would've left Claire behind to take care of William and taken you with him to escape the city, but things are a bit different now.

He still has to question her and your aunt, after all.

You want to follow the two of them, but something is holding you back, and it's not just that your arms are still wrapped behind your back — it's that your wrist is tied to the railing with fucking handcuffs.

Oh, that motherfucker.

"Goddamnit, Leon!" You yell at him, dropping to your knees while trying to free yourself, attempting to yank your wrists out of the handcuffs.

He hears your yelling, repressing the urge to chuckle a little. He did it for your safety. "You can thank me later!" Trying to navigate down here with three people wouldn't be helping the cause anyways.

You know, the cause being killing the fucker that is William Birkin.

The fights begins, and they spread out across the room so William only has time to focus on one of them.

The amount of things happening in the room makes it hard to see who's doing what. From up top, you mainly see a lot of fire. Claire has the flamethrower, Leon nicked your grenade launcher. They use normal grenades and flash grenades, and Claire seems to have this other yellow gun that does damage using electricity.

It's safe to say that it's intense.

William has several attacks. With his giant claws, he slashes around, lunging with his newly gained limbs, trying to kill the two survivors that are attempting to put an end to him once and for all.

Oh, shit.

He goes to find something really big, breaking it off from where it was — you don't even know what the fuck it is — and tosses it across the room with ease. It causes a fire, and if either of the two had been standing there, they would've died just like that.

He does it several times, but both of them have figured out that it's wise to use one of the many alcoves to take cover, staying out of the line of sight of his throw.

Leon is frustrated that it's taking this long to take the fucker down. "Shoot the eyes, goddamnit!" He yells out to the girl on the other side of the room, much to her agitation.

"I'm trying!"

"Try harder!"

Now that they've been down there for a few minutes already, the two seem to have managed working together, fighting the monster in the middle with a strategy that does some good damage.

One distracts, the other shoots the eyes. You already know Leon is trained in terms of combat, but Claire must've had some kind of training too, because she's a great shot.

Either that, or she just has a shitload of luck.

If anything, Claire and Leon do work together quite well as a team. Weirdly enough. If you consider the fact that they threatened to kill one another not ten minutes earlier.

Like many things you've experienced so far — it would've been funny had it not been this traumatizing.

The loud noise of the Magnum firing its bullets rings through the room the moment a dozen eyes appear on William's left leg and back right arm. He hits them all perfectly, William visibly getting weaker.

Then, all the other eyes on his body go out, and a giant cluster of eyes appears on his chest. It's the perfect opportunity to do more damage.

Claire uses her flamethrower to light them all up and Leon unloads a few rounds from the shotgun.

That seems to do the job — the large number of eyeballs in the middle of William's chest spew apart, yellow liquid emitting from them, after which his monstrous body drops to the floor.

There's a moment of silence, with everyone calming down now that the bastard has finally been defeated for good. Or so you hope.

Leon tries to remove some of the blood from his face, cracking his knuckles — he's glad this shit is close to being over.

But Claire, who's standing next to him, is still very much seething now that the one man who tried to kill her is standing here, in this room. She can't just let him get away with that.

She tries to attack him physically, because she's pretty much out of bullets, but Leon sees it coming and blocks her punches before kicking her on her still injured knee for the second time tonight.

He walks over to her at a relatively slow pace while she tries to crawl backwards, because she can hardly stand up now.

"I was genuinely considering letting you live, you know." Leon chuckles humorlessly. "Too bad you had to fuck it up."

This is really, really bad.

"Don't! Just stop! Please!" You try to yell from the top of the platform, but it's like you're watching them from behind glass, as if neither of them can hear you. You look as desperate as ever, with your tied arms attached to the railing, trying to free yourself while sitting on your knees.

As she's crawling backwards, Leon grabs one of the led pipes that Birkin pulled loose during the fight, swinging it around a little. "Did you really think I couldn't handle some teenage girl?" He asks rhetorically, and within a split second, he suddenly releases all of his aggression into whipping the pipe at her head, but she dodges it just in time.

Her head would've been crushed if she hadn't been fast enough.

Leon does seem to hear your pleas now, though, and he huffs before dropping the pipe and pushing the redhead onto the small lift as soon as she's up on her feet again. The moment they get up there, he pushes her down on the floor once more, and she falls just next to where you're sitting.

He gets to her and puts his expensive dress shoe on her throat with plain disinterest on his face. She's fighting for her life while he looks bored out of his mind.

"Where's Sherry?" He asks, pressing his lips together.

"Hngh—Lab—room—" she manages to get out with him still blocking her airway.

"Be specific."

Claire shakes her head. She's not actually gonna tell him where Sherry is — God knows what he'll do to her.

"Sherry?" You ask with wide eyes. "You know where Sherry is?" With the girl still fighting for her life, you turn to Leon. "Maybe you should stop suffocating her if you want a fucking answer!"

He glares at you but eventually listens nonetheless. Claire coughs, reaching for her throat, exchanging looks with you before answering his question. "She's... she's in the room across from the reception desk. In the North Area."

"Thank you. That's all I needed to know." Leon says before taking out his pistol. She answered his question properly, so he'll give her a quick death instead of a long and torturous one.

Your eyes widen and you move in front of the girl immediately. "Don't!"

"Get out of the way, Doll, this is none of your business."

"You made everything my business the moment you brought me to this hellhole." You spit back at him.

He clenches his jaw before raising his voice — something he never does. "Move!" He yells at you in frustration, though still not pointing his gun at you. He usually never loses his cool like this.

"No!" You yell back at him, giving not a single fuck about your own safety right now. "Let her live. I'll do anything you want."

Anything he wants?

No, he won't, no, cannot take advantage of that. That's not who he is. Not happening.

So he pretends to not have heard you. "I warned her that I would—"

"I don't care!" The determination and anger in your voice flares up with each word leaving your mouth. "Let her go. Please, Leon. I'm begging you. We're all just... trying to survive this living hell. She's no different from me. Please."

That last part comes out softer, and he truly hates you for it. You and that damn please. His knees go weak and his feelings for you cloud his judgement once more.

He puts his gun away and glances at you before pulling Claire up to her feet with clear hostility on his face. She's rather surprised he even helped her up. "Take Sherry with you and find a way to get out. I'll let you live for her sake."

She blinks a few times. Seriously? Just like that?

Claire is then beyond bewildered at the sight in front of her, seeing Leon help you up to your feet with much more care in his movements. He even inspects you to check whether you have any injuries, gently putting his fingers on your unharmed cheek while casually pushing your hair back over your shoulder. You let him do it as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

And it finally hits her.

The only reason she's still alive is because Leon is in love with you. A crazy and wild and probably toxic love, it seems, but he does everything to protect you. You're not even fazed with him touching you, in spite of who he is and what he did.

Maybe, Claire thinks, you're in love with him too.

She scoffs and limps out of the place. She's a girl on a mission — she doesn't have the time to try and figure out what's going on between you two. The soap opera can come later.

As soon as she's gone, you turn to Leon. "Why not just shoot her?"

"Because you were in front of her, obviously."

"So?"

"What do you mean, 'so'? I could've hit you."

"Don't pretend to care."

"Do you really think I don't care about you? At all?"

"No, I don't."

Leon scoffs. He doesn't give a flying fuck that your aunt is pretty much dying across the room. "You delusional little brat."

"What?"

Adrenaline is still pumping through his veins, and seeing the scowl on your face, he feels like he's going nuts. He closes his eyes for a second, laughing sarcastically to himself.

Yet when he's about to profess his love for you, opening his eyes again, a certain observation pushes all the things he wanted to say out of his mind as if it was never there to begin with.

"Your eye."

Being a little weirded out by his words, you raise your brow. "What about it?"

"It's—it's yellow." He says, seeming the most distraught he has the entire night. "With red veins around it."

"Leon, what the fuck are you talking about? There's a pocket sized mirror in my pants. I would use it myself, but I'm at a bit of a handicap." You tell him sarcastically, motioning to your still bound hands.

Normally, he would've enjoyed your bad jokes and sarcasm, but he's freaking out right now. He flips the mirror open and holds it in front of you.

Now that you're seeing it yourself, you can understand why he looks so disturbed.

The iris has gone from its original color to a bright yellow, the white of your eye being a darker shade of the same color. Blood-red veins emerge from your eye, each being about five to seven centimeters long, yet your other eye is completely normal.

"What is—what the fuck is that?" You ask with a shaky voice, unsure of what to think anymore.

Leon takes a deep breath. "You're infected."

"I can't—I can't be... I didn't get bitten by any zombies."

"It's your uncle who infected you. Most likely just before Claire and I fought him." He realizes out loud, running his hand through his hair. "That bastard."

Before you can comprehend it, Leon drags you with him to a few feet away, where Annette is sitting, slumped against the wall. "Tell me there's a cure for the G-virus."

"No."

"Stop fucking lying—"

"If there was a cure, I certainly wouldn't give it to you."

Oh, that angers him. The only reason he hasn't shot her yet is because she's somewhat valuable, so she better start showing it. "It's not for me, it's for her, goddamnit!"

The blonde woman in the white coat just stares at him blankly, so he turns to you, eyes moving rapidly. "It's gonna be fine, okay? I'll—I'll fix it."

And if you thought you had figured him out now, you're proved incredibly wrong once more, because he's nearly tearing up in front of you.

The truth is that for once in his life, he doesn't know what to do. He feels utterly and completely helpless. His palms are on your cheeks, yet it feels like he's the one who's in need of comforting.

He feels like he's having a panic attack, so he tries to calm himself down by putting his hand on his chest. What is he gonna do?

He can't lose you. He can't. He won't.

"I know where Sherry is." He calmly mentions to Annette, and she looks up at him. "I'll go and take her back here and put a bullet between her eyes unless you give me the vaccine. I swear to God, I'll do it."

Your eyes widen at his words. A kid? Your cousin? He would do that? No, he wouldn't.

Of course he's bluffing. He would never kill a kid. He couldn't, even if he tried. Annette doesn't know that, which he's very glad about, because it seems to be working. She huffs out of frustration and inhales deeply. "It's called the DEVIL antigen. Use this to gain access back in the lab. One dose should do it."

She hands him a copper pendant from her pocket, and he immediately takes it from her, briefly making eye contact with you before moving back to the room you were first in after lifting the platform back up again, leaving you alone with your aunt.

With her sitting slumped against the wall, silently observing you, your eye twitches. "I used to envy you in a way. Both you and William. How you were grade-A scientists, incredible at your jobs."

"That was your mistake." She retorts, squirming in pain from the wound on her side.

Nodding, you clench your jaw. "I guess it was. I should've seen how shitty you and him actually were. Certainly not fit to raise a kid."

Her response is quick and harsh. "Sherry has nothing to do with this."

"Oh, doesn't she? You locked her up in a garbage disposal room!"

"For her own safety! Unless you would've rather had her walk around zombies instead?"

"You should've prevented her from coming here in the first place. But all you care about is the G-virus. You're just like him."

The door opens at the other end of the platform, seeing Leon make his way back to you as quick as he can. He lifts up your sleeve to insert the needle in your arm, and you swallow, because you're a bit afraid of them.

Leon puts his other hand on your shoulder and successfully injects you with the vaccine. A sense of calm returns to him, knowing you're gonna be okay now.

But he's not done here yet.

"The T-virus." He says to her, causing her to raise her brow. "What's the longest time before someone has transformed completely?"

Annette coughs a few times before answering. "About an hour and a half. Don't see how that's relevant in your case."

He loosens his tie and shows the bite well hidden underneath the collar of his shirt, pressing his lips together. "It's been way past that. I was bitten hours ago and I'm showing no symptoms."

Your eyes widen. Holy shit. He was bitten and didn't say anything about it? When did it even happen?

"Consider yourself lucky. Looks like you're immune. Can't say the same for the rest of the city."

Her words and casual attitude make you beyond angry. "How the fuck can you say that? When it's you and your damn team that's responsible for this whole mess."

"Like I said, it wasn't supposed to happen—"

"Well, it did! You should've known better, for fuck's sake! Thousands of people died for nothing!"

"That was William's mistake. Not mine."

A scoff leaves you, the question you've been dying to ask burning on the tip of your tongue. You take a deep breath, mustering the courage to say it.

"Did you know? That he was going to experiment on me?"

The blonde woman only inhales and exhales, staring you in the eye without saying anything.

She fucking knew.

And that's what makes you absolutely lose every ounce of self control you had.

You've finally had enough. Using the strength coming from God knows where, you manage to snap the belt that was holding your wrists together.

Rubbing them, Leon looks at you, but he doesn't make a move — because you're not focused on him. If anything, you're almost forgetting he's in this room right now.

Because you're solely focused on Annette. You don't look at her and think of her as your aunt, no — you look at her as one of the few people responsible for the horrors that happened in this city. Images of the zombies at the gas station and the R.P.D. flash before your eyes. They were people, just living their lives, trying to survive, not knowing they were about to be turned into murderous, braindead monsters. You think of all the families broken apart, how many parents must've torn apart the limbs of their kids. Marvin and Elliot, who were human beings you hugged and cried in front of and returned to when they were already gone. The gunshop owner who had to shoot his own daughter in the head. The people, kids they fucking experimented on.

It makes your blood boil.

Leon doesn't take his eyes off you. He sees that your eyes are wide, hands trembling and lips parted. He hasn't seen this look on you before, or anyone else for that matter, and if he's being honest, you look like you just stepped out of the gates of hell to do the devil's bidding.

You're not sure whether you've ever lost control like this, because the next thing you do is severely out of character for you.

Walking towards her, you glare at her while taking deep breaths before your foot lifts up from the floor and lands right on her face. You kick her again and again, until she's face first on the floor, bruised and bleeding, coughing up blood with a tired and disoriented look in her eyes.

Leon is genuinely shocked. You're kicking your own damn aunt with so much force that even one of her teeth has fallen out. You don't spare him as much as a single glance.

He lets you do what you deem necessary and just watches. You only stop when she's on the brink of passing out, letting out a shaky breath.

"You're gonna die here for all the shit you created. You'll die alone and miserably. I'll take care of Sherry though — she deserves to live."

Annette Birkin truly has to be one of the strongest of mortals, because somehow the bitch is still alive and kicking. "You're right. She does."

When you want to hurt her one last time, a sudden stinging pain in your body makes you cry out. It hurts worse than anything you've ever experienced before, making you clench your fists and jaw as you try to bear it.

Grabbing a hold of the railing, you stop Leon from coming anywhere near you by holding your hand up the moment you see him moving towards you. "I'm fine. I'm sure it's just the vaccine."

Leon turns to look at a nearly dead Annette. "What are the side effects?"

She's barely even awake anymore, but manages to respond nonetheless. "It varies with each test subject."

After Annette has given her response, you cough up a surprisingly big amount of blood, accidentally smearing it across your chin and lips in a moment of disorientation. Leon doesn't hesitate to drape your arm over his shoulder, holding onto your waist. You both know you need to get out of the city as fast as possible. You don't know how much worse your physical state is going to get.

"C'mon, let's get out of here." He says to you, both of you glancing at your dying aunt one final time.

She hisses in pain, offering her final sentiment. "Don't let her fall into the wrong hands, agent."

She's talking to him, so he clenches his jaw, gives her a curt nod and escorts you to the exit of the room, leading you to deal with only another old acquaintance.

One in black heels and a red dress.

Notes:

MAN am i bad at writing action sequences. this Birkin fight took me so long in the actual game but idk i couldn't manage to write it better than this. apologies. hope you enjoyed this chapter nonetheless 3

Chapter 17: The Great Escape

Summary:

You and Leon try to escape Raccoon City with a tough time limit.

Notes:

ugh i hate this chapter and quite literally had to push it out

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"How the hell did you get down here?" Leon asks the lady in red across from him, stepping onto the bridge. She limps over to the two of you, and both of you notice her injured leg.

It's been hours since the last time you three were together, but everything is different now. She's injured, you're infected and Leon — well, he's just trying to survive from all the ladies attacking him here.

And not in a good way.

"I have my ways." She responds with a blank face. "The sample. Please, tell me you got it."

"We've got it." Leon says, trying to disguise his grip on your arm as him being protective of you. Thing is, the lady doesn't know — or shouldn't know — that he's with Umbrella, so he'll try to maintain his cover if possible.

Ada nods. "That's good. Let me verify it so we can get the hell out of here." She's already sticking her hand out, and Leon has to admit she's a good actress. Too bad for her he wasn't born yesterday.

So he chuckles tauntingly before aiming Matilda at her. "Did you really think we'd give it to you? Some cheap mercenary?"

He can see by the way her nostrils flare up that she did not like his statement, and she takes her own gun out as well. "That's funny, considering you're with Umbrella."

Yeah, he should've seen that coming. Whoever she is, she's good at all this.

"Get out of the way, Ada. You'll let us leave. Whether you choose to stay and die is up to you. I don't give a shit." He tells her calmly.

"Hand over the sample, Leon." She says sternly, gripping the firearm tighter. "Or I'll shoot your girlfriend."

Your eyes widen, but Leon keeps his cool. "I've taken one bullet for her already. I'll take another one if I have to."

He takes the sample out of his pocket, holding it above the dark abyss underneath you. If he lets go, it'll drop and won't ever be found again. You frown at the sight. Is he really willing to go that far just for you? Getting rid of the one thing he's been trying to get to all night just to protect you?

"Go ahead. Do it. You'll end up with empty hands, though." He goes on, shaking the small piece of glass in the air, taunting her. The purple-ish liquid inside moves around visibly. The motion attracts her attention for a split second, after which you immediately hear a gunshot.

Leon has shot her right in her chest, the bullet hitting her shoulder. It was a deliberate choice to shoot her there, because he doesn't actually have the intention of killing her. She whimpers in pain, gritting her teeth. Gasping, you take a few steps forward.

Before she can take a shot at him, debris hits the bridge and knocks you all off guard.

Since Leon was standing behind you at the time of the hit, he's fallen to the point where he's hanging on the broken off ledge that was originally the middle of the bridge. You, however, moved forward, managing to grab Ada's hand just in time.

Because of the bullet wound in her shoulder, she's unable to put her other arm up to you, and you can't exactly pull her up like this — because you're trying not to fall off the bridge yourself, your foot being the only thing keeping you on it at this very moment.

"Shit! I can't pull you up!"

In your panic, you're afraid Leon has just fallen to his death, until you catch the faintest glimpse of him pulling himself up on the other side.

You're beyond relieved he's okay, but with one more person left to save, it's not time to be happy yet. Her cold hand slips just the faintest bit from yours, making your breath hitch in your throat.

"It's no use." She says, and you shake your head immediately.

"No, don't say that, I've got you."

Leon is still attempting to climb up, but something is stuck, meaning he can't get up there quick enough to help you. With your strength already lowering due to the side effects of the infection and vaccine, you know it's most likely the end of the road for the lady in red — but you don't want to let go.

She has other ideas, though.

"It's not worth it anymore." She states, and you watch her with wide eyes. "Don't trust anyone. Take care of yourself."

"No, Ada—" you want to protest, but she already slips from your grasp, purposely doing so. "No! Fuck!" You yell out, feeling guilt wash over you.

Now that he's finally managed to climb up to the surface, Leon sees you laying there, staring into the abyss. He saw Ada fall after you tried to pull her up, so he knows exactly what happened.

When he tries to get you up, you're disoriented by the image engraved in your mind as of now. "I could've saved her—"

He then proceeds to pull you up to your feet, shaking his head. "There's no time. Either we leave or we die. What's it gonna be?"

"I can't—"

"Choose. Now."

With more debris dropping and the clock ticking, you know your only chances of survival are to go with him, so you just nod and begin to move, even if your body hurts like hell from the infection.

The elevator is open this time, so that should be your way out of here. Leon presses the button so you can go down, which is the only option, so you've got to be on the right track.

Maybe, just maybe, it would've been wise to ask your aunt how to actually escape this place before attempting to kick her to death.

But, hey, you'll keep that in mind for next time!

The silence that suddenly occurs between you is strange. It's not awkward, but there's a certain tension in the air as you watch the NEST getting destroyed left and right through the glass.

It's almost poetic, in a way.

Now that you've made it to safety, and you're close to escaping this hellhole, he lets out a sigh. "I... I wanna apologize. For treating you like that up there. It was wrong—"

He's very much cut off in his apology when you suddenly grab his arm. "Leon—"

Your legs feel like they're giving out, the strength of your body draining through waves of pain. Before you can hit the floor, he catches you, kneeling with you in his arms. "Doll? Can you hear me? Shit—hey, you need to get up!"

With your eyes fluttering open only a little and the clock ticking, his heart is pounding in his chest. He doesn't know if he'll make it in time, knowing he's most likely gonna have to carry you to wherever the exit is, and that could really change things — not for the better.

"Damnit." He groans before picking you up in bridal style, internally wishing he could have done so under better circumstances, moving out of the elevator as soon as the door opens.

The hall is safe and well-lit, thankfully enough, and he spots a monitor screen in the middle. He can hear the faint sound of a voice at the other end.

The screen shows some glitches. He releases his one arm under your knees to touch the screen, now holding you in a standing position by your waist with his other arm.

Once Claire Redfield pops up on the screen, he truly has to fight the urge to huff and roll his eyes.

Jesus Christ, not her again.

Naturally, she looks mad. "Leon!?"

Yeah, the universe is not on his side today.

"Listen, I know you hate me and don't trust me, but my girl—partner got infected with G. She got a vaccine but she can hardly walk due to the side effects. I need to get her to safety, so that means I need your help."

At the other side of the line, Claire refrains from making any snarky comments. She has seen how much he cares about you, and while he may not be innocent, you are. And he loves you. The way he's talking to her about you right now only proves it once more. After all, the two of you are trying to survive this hell just as much as she and Sherry are.

So she swallows and nods. "There's a way out. You gotta get to the lowest point of NEST. There's a train here. I'm gonna lower the platform as soon as possible, I should be able to start the train afterwards. It took me a few minutes to get here."

"Give us five minutes, yeah?"

"Okay, hurry. And be careful with her."

"Thank you, Claire." He says while lifting your feet from the floor again, grabbing the knife he finds on top of a cabinet to add it to his belt.

He exits through the door at the end of the hall jogging down a staircase. Something explodes in the far distance, and when he enters another room with a narrow walkway, panic begins to settle in.

He has to make it in time while holding you up, and carrying another person while trying to go as fast as possible all while keeping an eye out for enemies—

Leon is not easily stressed, but fucking hell, his heartbeat is racing.

Stepping onto the elevator, he can already hear the awful noises of the plant zombies. Once the lift is down to the bottom, he steps off, straight up avoiding the first one that's still trying to get up from the floor.

Much to his frustration, he can't use the shotgun when holding you, so he just grabs a grenade, taking the pin off with his damn teeth and throwing it at the second one in his way.

It does the job. He doesn't give a shit about wasting valuable resources right now — he'll do whatever he can to keep you both safe.

He really has to improvise with the third one, so he takes the knife he found a mere minute before and throws it at the head of the plant zombie, which doesn't do much damage but stuns him long enough to get past him.

Good. That's good.

Arriving in the next room, he might as well scream.

Because the only way down is by using a ladder. A really, really long ladder.

God fucking damnit. It's way too high, and there's literally no other way, so he tries to wake you up, even if it's just for a minute. "Doll? C'mon, c'mon—please—I need you to wake up. Can you hear me?"

With your eyes only opening the tiniest bit, he needs to find a way to get you to get a grip, right the fuck now.

He has no water to splash on your face, which he also highly doubts would even help in this situation, so he curses to himself when he gently puts you down on the floor.

Grabbing the last remaining combat knife he has, he has to swallow and steady his shaky hands, because he's about to do something he doesn't want to do.

Something possibly very, very stupid.

He holds the knife above your skin before lifting it up a little and shoving the cold metal into your thigh. That causes you to wake up, as he'd hoped, and you seem very disoriented at first — which then quickly turns to anger once you've connected the dots.

"What the fuck!?"

"I'm sorry. Listen, we're gonna die if you don't come with me right now. We have a few minutes. I made a deal with Claire, she's waiting for us with Sherry."

He says it all in one breath, he's stressed out and you can see that he means it — so you try to muster the strength you've got left to get up and follow his tracks.

As soon as you get up, the blood begins to come out of the wound Leon created in your leg, and he feels guilty about it, but he didn't see another way. "Wait, give me two seconds."

He takes off his red tie and wraps it around your leg, just above the wound.

You unconsciously hold onto his shoulder when he does it, and when he gets up, the sweat is visible on his forehead. Hell, it looks like he's really getting sick. You nearly forgot about the fact that he's been running around with a bullet wound for several hours now.

He doesn't say anything and you don't have the time to ask him whether he's okay. Apparently, you've got a time limit now, and that's all that matters.

Leon gestures for you to go down the ladder. It feels like it takes forever to get to the floor at the bottom, but it works out just fine, and you wait for him to come down.

Once he arrives, he makes sure to keep you behind him, so he can take care of any enemies that might show up. The only way through seems to be the door in front of you, so he pushes it open, only to be met with the sight of a zombie.

You're pretty sure this is the fastest you've seen him shoot all night. It's admirable and worrisome at the same time — because if Leon is panicking, you should be too.

Thankfully, the zombie's head explodes, and you can continue your way through the hallway.

Which is on fire, by the way.

There's tubes on your right and left, resembling the place you fought William for the first time, with only a single door at the end of the catwalk. That way out is immediately blocked, though, when an explosion occurs in front of you, the flames appearing right before your eyes.

So your first instinct is to turn back, but you gasp when the fucker that is Esteban makes his return.

In hindsight, maybe you should have come up with a different name.

At least it's kinda catchy, though.

He grabs you both by the neck, getting ready to snap it just like he snapped Ben's skull in the jail, until another explosion happens. It causes him to lose his balance, which then happens again.

The walkway you're standing on breaks off on one side, which makes you and Leon fall off, onto the ground on a lower level that was apparently underneath it.

Big Guy is still up there, unable to chase you because the explosions from the fire are too much. While you're still groaning in pain from the hit, the rest of the walkway breaks off as well.

With wide eyes, you seem to be incapable of moving, feeling like you're paralyzed in your place, watching the debris come right at you.

Leon, who's lying on the floor to your right, doesn't hesitate to pull you on top of him, breathing heavily once you see the giant piece of metal has hit the floor right next to you. It's mere centimeters away from your faces.

Your breathing is ragged, heart pounding in your chest to the point that it hurts. Facing the man underneath you, you swallow. "Thanks."

He's still trying to get his breathing under control again, but can't stop himself from making a flirty comment. "Can't let my favorite girl die."

And your heart flutters at his words again, even though you know it shouldn't.

"You're unbelievable."

"And you're beautiful."

The interaction makes him grin and you roll your eyes, which is awfully like the dynamic you shared before his true identity came to the surface.

"Didn't you say we had a time limit?"

"Yeah." He huffs. "In any other circumstance, I would never say this to you, but please get off me."

It makes you laugh a little. You get off of him, suddenly feeling your body ache in pretty much every limb you possess, not to mention the wound in your leg. "Ow, shit."

"Hold onto me." He supports you by putting your arm over his shoulder, his arm around your waist. He makes sure you can walk properly this way while pushing you to go a bit faster at the same time.

Across from you is a door, which you move through, arriving in some kind of lift room, with the only way down being to get the platform to go down.

Leon lets go of your waist for a moment to grab the ammo he finds on the table in front of him. His eyes move to the joint plug next to it. By the looks of it, this plug is needed to activate certain equipment nearby — which has got to be the lift.

He gestures for you to go stand on the lift while he makes sure to move the somewhat heavy plug from the table to the part of the lift where it needs to be inserted.

After putting in the plug, he pulls the handle towards himself, turning the red light into a green one. The square platform begins to move underneath your feet, with several explosions occurring on the walkway above you.

And there Big Guy is again, except this time, he looks a whole lot more menacing, with a mutated arm, his trenchcoat abandoned somewhere. You cry out, holding onto the railing when you see he's focusing on the two of you. "Goddamnit, I'm so sick of this shit."

Leon, weirdly enough, has somehow mustered the strength and will to fight the large man.

If anything, he finds it a little funny.

It's almost too easy to keep him at a safe distance. You're at the corner of the platform, having trouble with your vision blurring because of the vaccine, but Big Guy isn't even focusing on you. At all.

He's only focused on Leon, who keeps avoiding him like he's playing a game of fucking dodgeball — and he's winning.

It's not hard to tell his next move, when he's gonna jump or try to whack him in the face with his huge claw. The thing is, if Leon can manage to keep him away from the two of you like this long enough, it's just gonna be a matter of running from him again once you make it to the bottom level.

Which shouldn't be too hard.

He throws in a grenade for the hell of it, trying to see if it does any damage at all.

It doesn't.

It only stuns him for a little while. During those few seconds, though, something lands in the middle of the platform. It looks an awful lot like a weapon box, and he's quick enough to push it open and find a rocket launcher inside.

A rocket launcher. God fucking damn.

It must be his lucky day.

"Sayonara, motherfucker." He mutters with a grin on his face, right before shooting a rocket at the thing that was ready to devour him.

And you'll be damned — because it does the job. One rocket and he's gone. Out. Quite literally cut in half. It's a bit of a gross sight, with bones sticking out and all.

You've gained the majority of your sight back, so that's nice. You did see the explosion happening, so now you're glad at least it wasn't Leon getting harmed.

As you take the final meters down with the platform, you move to stand next to Leon, hissing in pain before letting out a sigh at the corpse in front of you. If you can even call it that anymore.

It's just legs, really.

You giggle sheepishly. "We are gathered here today in not-so loving memory of Esteban, also known as Big Guy, Bigfoot, and any other name I gave him."

The man beside you raises his brow. "Are you okay?"

No, of course you're not. You literally feel like you've been drinking or some shit. "What the fuck does it look like? I make jokes when I'm tired."

With your voice cracking in the middle of your sentence, it's all making him chuckle a little too, and he suddenly remembers he's still got a rocket launcher sitting on his shoulder. Casually.

"How many fingers am I sticking up?"

"For real?"

"Doll."

"Ugh, four."

"Good. At least you're not blind. Think you can walk on your own for the last part?"

"Yeah."

Now that you've finally arrived at the bottom level, the door in front of you opens, and a horde of zombies begins to come your way. Leon uses the rocket launcher on his shoulder to fire directly at the zombies, blowing them apart, their bodies as well as the separate limbs on the floor burnt and bloody.

Dropping the weapon, he puts his arm around you again, because you need to make a run for it now.

As you enter the next room, you see that the train Claire mentioned has just begun to move. "Shit! C'mon, we gotta get on it."

You channel all the strength left in your body to pull yourself up onto the moving train, sitting in between two train cars.

Now that the train is moving faster, and an explosion just happened behind you, Leon has more difficulty getting on the train than he anticipated. You extend your hand and pull him up, even if it hurts your body even more than it already does.

He plops down beside you, letting out a chuckle while sighing with his head leaning back against the wall of the train car. There's sweat on both your and his forehead, you're covered in dirt and blood, and you're exhausted — but you made it.

Your vision turns a bit blurry for a second, and you unconsciously grip Leon's arm. Hissing through your teeth, you groan in pain, now that the cramps are coming back to your body.

He stands up, lifting you up in bridal style again. "We made it."

For this last moment, you let yourself forget about all the shit that he's pulled tonight. Your thoughts become slower and mind a bit disoriented once more. "Thank you for saving me."

Leon doesn't respond at first. He looks at your recovering form, with such adoration and love in his eyes, eyebrows scrunching together. "Always."

You fight to keep your eyes open, feeling him carry you into the train car in front of you. The doors here open the same way as the ones in the lab, except there's no wristband required.

As soon as he steps inside with you in his arms, he's staring right into the barrel of Claire Redfield's gun. "Leon?"

"I'd wildly appreciate it if you could get that gun out of my face." He says monotonously in a low voice, jaw clenched as he holds you tighter.

Claire lowers her gun immediately, putting it away in her holster. "How's she doing?"

"Not good. I didn't expect her to react to the vaccine this strongly." He responds, gently putting you down on the bench behind the redhead. You swallow, eyelid twitching, squirming in your place. You're sweating and your hands are cold. Leon removes the holster on his back, then his suit vest, leaving him only in his white dress shirt. Putting the holster back on, he uses the suit vest to cover you. "Get some sleep, Princess."

Claire is watching the interaction like a hawk. Leon gently cups your face, trying to look for any symptoms that should alert him, until he gets scared shitless when some random gremlin-looking creature sits down next to where he's kneeling.

Wait. Blonde hair, red headband — Sherry is the gremlin. Oh.

"Hi."

Leon is normally not like this — he has a little sister, for Christ's sake. Yet in this moment, he can only blink at the little girl in front of him, until she puts her hand on the metal of the bench.

"Is she gonna be okay?" She speaks up again, her tiny voice more audible now. Leon suddenly remembers the two of you are related. She's your cousin, of course she's worried about you.

He's got to pull himself together for the sake of the kid sitting by him. "Yeah. Yeah, she's gonna be okay."

As much as he wants to sit down and catch some sleep with you, it seems that Raccoon City is not quite done with the four of you yet.

Because his ears perk up when the train begins to rattle, and he turns his head, locking eyes with Claire. She's noticed it too, so she grabs her gun and reloads it. "I'm gonna go check it out."

"I'm coming with you."

"I'm sure I can handle it." Claire bites back once he's standing in front of her.

Leon snorts at her attitude. It's only natural for her to be hostile, of course — but also stupid, given the dangers you've all been experiencing the whole night. "I think it's cute you think you have a say in what I do."

The redhead scoffs when he walks past her with the shotgun ready in hand. She rolls her eyes, telling Sherry to stay behind with you until they get back.

The two of them move out of this train car, into the next. It appears fine, as if nothing suspicious is to be seen, until the doors at the end of the car are broken down by a giant creature. It's all teeth and flesh, with many claws in the middle — something truly out of a horror movie.

Both he and Claire begin to fire at it immediately. It's barely noticeable, but it's mainly Claire who knows this is Birkin, despite the fact that she just fought him while trying to get the train to the bottom level.

"Why won't you just die!?" She yells angrily, throwing a grenade in.

They use all kinds of ammo — shotgun shells, magnum bullets, plain fire, the list goes on. Birkin spreads his flesh throughout the train car's ceiling and walls, and if they don't end this fast, they might die trying to.

An eye on the side occasionally pops out, which they know to shoot by now, but the real game-changer is the huge eye in the middle that comes out all of a sudden.

Leon uses his last grenade, which makes the monster cry out, the train car shaking underneath his feet. Tentacles fly around in front of them when the ceiling breaks off, the train hitting the sides of the tunnel.

You're standing by the other door with Sherry behind you now, trying to hold onto the railing. "We gotta lose that car!" You yell out, trying to think of a way to help them out in this hell of a situation.

There has to be a way to get rid of the car, so you look down to try and see if there's a way to separate it from the rest of the train.

Taking off the awfully heavy safety block, you find the connection can be broken, so you begin to kick it with the bottom of your foot in order to decouple the car. Claire rushes to you to help out.

Meanwhile, Leon finds a long pipe with a sharp edge. He grabs the object while trying to stand up straight, which proves to be difficult with the train shaking violently.

The eye doesn't pop, but the same yellow liquid as before oozes out, and he thrusts it in deeper, twisting it around like a knife. "Fuck you!" He groans in annoyance from all the times you've had to fight him, especially from the time he infected you.

You and Claire manage to decouple the car, and it slowly begins to create some distance between you and Birkin. Leon has to jump to this car now, so you automatically extend your hand when you see how far it is.

He grabs your hand and accidentally falls on top of you, both of you breathing heavily from the fight. You only slightly sit up to watch how the train car with Birkin in it become one with the flames, creating a huge explosion — hopefully the last one you'll see in a while.

The sudden brightness as you ride out of the tunnel overwhelms you, unsure of what else the universe has got in store for you.

Notes:

i'm so sorry i made you all wait this long for this shitty ass chapter. SMUT SOON 😭 i hope

Chapter 18: Can't Pretend

Summary:

The aftermath of the Raccoon City incident finally begins.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

A drop of water lands on your face, waking you up.

Your lashes flutter. The light above you is painful to your eyes at first, so you cover them with your hand. Something itches on your arm, and you look to the side, only to realize you and your three companions fell asleep in a field of tall grass.

So far, you're the only one awake. The sun is at its highest, so it should be around 1 PM right now. In all honesty, your brain works surprisingly fast, body feeling weirdly good. How long have you slept? A day?

Remembering the events of yesterday proves to be harder, though. Getting on the train, the final fight — you're pretty sure you slept for a while on the train as well — and then you had to get off at the final destination, which turned out to be some quiet road miles away from the city. You stretch your arms, back cracking in the process, making your eyes roll back for a second.

Ugh. You're still very much covered in blood, though. That's not good.

Running a hand through your hair, you realize how thirsty you are, but it doesn't look like there's any water around here. Fucking great.

The thing is, you've survived living hell. That's awesome, right?

Yeah. But now you gotta deal with the aftermath of dealing with said living hell. Which means being far, far away from civilization. And you're hungry. Tired. A complete mess.

Wait a second — your eye!

You take the pocket mirror out of your pocket once again, using it to look at your face.

"Holy shit." You mutter to yourself with a very hoarse voice from sleeping.

The thing is, your eye is normal again. The red veins are gone and the white of your eye is actually white again, rather than yellow as it was before, back when you didn't have the vaccine yet.

The cut on your cheek that William inflicted is still very much there, though, and it's not looking good. You gotta get it properly cleaned, as soon as possible, or it could get infected.

Letting out a sigh, you look at your fellow survivors. They're all still sound asleep, looking much worse than you are. Scratch that — they just look like absolute shit. None of you have eaten anything for hours, and you're still far away from the living, ironically enough, so you need to wake them up.

You nudge Claire's arm first for no particular reason. "Claire? You gotta wake up."

She wakes up with disorientation in her eyes, but gets back to business fairly quick. "Shit. How long were we out for?"

"No idea. A day, I think."

The girl rolls her eyes, huffing in frustration and tiredness while pinching the bridge of her nose. This is certainly not the best way to start your day.

Her eyes leave your gaze when she turns her head to look at a still sleeping Sherry and Leon. The little girl is using his chest as a pillow, which is actually quite endearing, but you've got to get going.

The sight is somewhat endearing to you, at least — but not to Claire.

Leon is the guy who tried to kill her, twice — so she hates him and distrusts him the way you probably should. It's for that reason that she doesn't wake him up gently.

"Wake up, asshole." She speaks with a glare on her face, nudging him in the side with her foot.

Both he and Sherry wake up because of this, and he huffs after seeing Claire's angry face hovering above his. "... am I in hell?"

"We just got out, actually." You mention with a casual shrug of your shoulders, as if all the things you experienced in Raccoon were the most normal thing in the world.

"Great." He mutters, laying back on the grass. "Any of you got an idea where the fuck we are?"

"Watch your language." Claire spits, gesturing to the twelve-year-old girl in your company, but Leon really could not care less about it all.

"I don't know if you know this, Red, but she's seen zombies, her father mutating into the ugliest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life and undoubtedly some more twisted shit, but you want us to be careful not to swear?"

"Yeah."

"It's okay, Claire. I don't mind." Sherry quietly says, having fully woken up now.

Leon raises his hand, pointing at the girl. "See? She doesn't mind."

"She's a kid, Leon."

"So are you, according to the law."

"Oh, so now you care about the law? You didn't care about that when you tried to kill me. Twice."

"Keep going at me like this and I'll try it a third time."

"Oh you son of a—"

"Shut the fuck up!" You interrupt, getting annoyed with their quarreling already, and they just woke up, for Christ's sake. "Sherry, cover your ears for me, please."

"O—okay." She says in a small voice before covering her ears with her hands.

You begin to yell at the two sitting in front of you while whispering at the same time. "You losers are going to shut up and work with me here. We are at some abandoned road, probably many miles from civilization. We're all hungry and thirsty and tired, which means we gotta get our shit together. And with 'we' I mean you two. You're currently in the company of a twelve-year-old girl who's just been through the same hell we have, no, even worse — a girl who's had both her parents dying on her within a single night. Either yell at each other out of earshot or shut the fuck up. Your choice."

"... that's kinda hot, Doll."

"Zip it!" You scold him, hitting his arm.

"Ow! Fine."

Claire sighs, frustrated that she let her hot-headedness get to her. It's been two tough nights, but she's got to stay strong for Sherry.

Leon is disappointed in himself too. He's got a younger sister he practically had to raise himself, so he knows how to act around little girls. He's never mean to little kids in general, so he's glad you said what you said. He moves the girl's hands from her ears, letting her know she can listen again.

"Good. We better get moving." You say, getting up from your knees to stand upright.

The weather is a little weird. It's awfully hot out here, yet it's raining as well. You should be spotting a rainbow somewhere soon if this keeps up.

In a way, it all represents the mixed feelings you're having right now, because you're glad to have escaped Raccoon City, to be alive, even — but you have no idea what's going to happen now. When will you get to safety? How the hell are you going to deal with Leon now?

He may have saved your life in those last ten minutes of escaping the facility, but that doesn't erase the things he did before that. His betrayal hurts all the same as it did then, and you don't trust him anymore. Or at least you don't think you do.

For now, you have to shake off those thoughts. The only priority you've got right now is to find civilization.

So like, the living. Preferably not like the dead civilians you've had to kill before.

"What happened to your neck?"

The sudden question coming from your cousin catches you off guard, until you realize she's not asking you, but your former partner instead.

Leon sighs. "A big, bad guy choked me." Which he's normally into, but...

"The scary big man in the hat and coat?" She asks with wide eyes. "Was it him?"

"Yeah. Did he bother you guys too?"

"The whole fucking night." Claire groans from your other side, after which she apologizes for swearing in front of Sherry. "Sorry."

You can't help but let out a chuckle. "Esteban was one hell of a guy, that's for sure."

"'Esteban'? That's his name? For real?"

"No, his codename was Tyrant, apparently. A journalist we found in the jail cells wrote a note on it. Before he, you know... d-worded."

"By the Tyrant himself, ironically."

"What? How?"

"Dude got his head squashed like a grape. It wasn't pretty."

"Okay!" You cut the two of them off once again. "What did we say about talking like this in front of the twelve-year-old?"

Leon truly has never had to fight the urge to make a joke about his huge mommy kink like this, but fortunately for all of you, he does have some self-control.

So he just fucks with the redhead instead, because in some ways, this is his only entertainment right now. It's just a little too easy and too fun to rile the girl up. "Yeah, Claire, watch your mouth next time."

Her anger flares up again, just like he expected. "I'm this close to squashing your head like a grape, you know that?"

"I'd love to see you try. Not like you were able to beat me before."

Hearing them bicker over the smallest fucking things really tests your patience, and you're about to verbally abuse both of them until several helicopters fly over. Leon doesn't hesitate to push the three of you into the tall grass at the side of the road, following after.

The choppers make a lot of noise, flying low and awfully close to the ground. Thankfully enough, they keep flying, moving away from the four of you just as fast as they got here.

"Why are we hiding from them?" You ask Leon, who turns his head to you.

"Because those were definitely not civilian. They were headed in the direction we came from, so they're either Umbrella's or the Military's. Neither are our allies at this point."

"What do you mean, Umbrella isn't your ally? You work for them."

"They can consider all this shit as my resignation. I don't work for people who experiment on kids." He responds to Claire monotonously, his voice still scratchier than usual.

In a way, he looks defeated. Tired. He walks and talks like nothing's happened to him, but you can see through the façade he puts up. His empty eyes with the bags underneath, the clenching of his jaw and fists whenever he moves his shoulder too much, the wounds on his body... you feel bad for thinking he hasn't been traumatized by everything he saw in Raccoon.

"I don't like being out in the open like this." You sigh after looking to the land next to you, catching the trees in the distance. "We're probably better off walking through the woods. Not like anyone's gonna give us a ride when we look like this anyways."

Claire agrees with your suggestion. "You're right. Let's go."

As you walk towards the trees, you overhear a conversation between Leon and Sherry. "So are you and her, like, boyfriend and girlfriend?"

Leon pauses before answering. "Well, we only just met, but... it's... complicated. I wasn't very nice to her."

He doesn't know why he chooses this moment to be honest, it's most likely not smart to say this to a little girl, but he just doesn't care anymore. He doubts she would judge him for what he's saying.

"Oh. Why?"

Kids. They keep asking and asking until they've got you cornered. "Because I worked for Umbrella. They weren't very friendly."

"Did you work with my mom?"

"No, I didn't." Before she can say anything else, he sees the bruise on her wrist. "What's that from?"

"Chief Irons did it when he took me back to the orphanage."

That makes him stop walking. "What?"

Her blonde hair and blue eyes peek at him from underneath the red jacket that used to be Claire's. "He took me away after Claire found me."

The girl in question joins the conversation. "Fat bastard cracked my tooth when he smacked me around. Thankfully Sherry's alright."

"Are you?"

She's surprised he's even showing concern for her well-being, but it's a pleasant surprise. "Yeah. Fine. Besides, he got what was coming to him."

"Irons." You repeat the name out loud, and three faces turn to you. "Didn't Ben mention his name? Before he died?"

Leon nods, recalling the moment in his memory. "Yeah, Irons locked him up — because he had dirt on him, apparently. But he knew things about Umbrella too. Shit, looking back, maybe the guy even knew who I was."

"Maybe. Irons was... the most fucked up guy I've ever met. I'm not even kidding. He was involved in lots of really gross stuff."

"Such as?"

"Hunting down and killing animals. Getting, uh... gratification from it. If you know what I mean. There were notes and emails in his office in the station. Not to mention the inbox on his computer showed he was involved with keeping the police away from Umbrella's secret lab."

You frown. "What? How? And why?"

"I'm betting he got paid for it." Leon mentions, and Claire nods.

"Yeah. William paid him generously to keep the authorities away from NEST. He knew about the G-virus, the T-virus..."

"Ben mentioned G too, in the voice recording we found on him." Leon says, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Point is that a lot more people knew about Umbrella's shit than we knew. Even your brother."

Claire's brows furrow. "Chris? How do you know him?"

"I don't know him personally, no idea what the guy looks like. What I do know is that he's been investigating Umbrella for a while now. Didn't you find his letter in the S.T.A.R.S. Office?"

"I did, but it didn't sound like him. At all. He'd never write something like that, bragging about girls and stuff."

The man in the suit cracks his knuckles. "That's because it was a coded message, obviously. He's currently doing research about Umbrella in Europe."

The redhead is beyond shocked how easy it apparently was for him to figure that all out. "Well, shit."

"A river!" The three of you are pulled out of the conversation with many turns when Sherry points to the far distance. "Can we clean up there?"

It's actually a pretty good idea. With the sun out, it's hot outside, so your clothes should dry up relatively quickly.

"Yeah, we'll do that. It's better if we show up with clean clothes when we reach civilization anyways." Leon mentions in agreement with the little girl next to him.

And you reach said civilization hours later, when the sun is setting. It's a motel by the side of the road with a restaurant next to it, thank God, you can finally get something to eat. Your clothes have dried up in the sun, so you do still smell a bit, but at least you look much more presentable than before.

The restaurant is not very crowded, much to your pleasure. The majority of the people seated inside look like truck drivers, which would make sense, given the location.

"Oh my God, I'm starving—" Claire says when a waiter walks past your table, bringing food up to the man who ordered it.

"Act normal. We already look fucked up enough with all our wounds, don't attract any more attention."

He says it with slightly gritted teeth, though acting as nonchalantly as ever — and he's got a point. So the four of you wait patiently for your food, which fortunately doesn't take long, you don't discuss anything related to Raccoon City and you leave as soon as you've finished your meals.

Walking to the motel, Leon hands you a few hundred dollar bills. "For the rooms."

"Are you sure it's wise for me to go arrange them?"

"You look the most decent out of all of us."

"Decent?" You ask sarcastically. "Seriously? Have you by any chance missed the huge cut on my face or something?"

"Princess, for once, just do as I tell you."

In any other situation, you would do the exact opposite, but there's more important things going on right now. You're all just tired, craving a nice shower and a soft bed to fall asleep on.

So you grumble a little when taking the money but go in to find an older lady with reddish-brown skin at the reception desk. "Hi, can I get two rooms, please? We're with four total."

Thankfully, she can only see your upper body because the desk is pretty high. "Gosh, honey, what did you do to your face? Have you let a doctor look at that?"

She seems to be voicing genuine concern. In a way, she reminds you of your mother with her warm aura, even towards strangers. "It's nothing, just something that accidentally happened on the way here. Our luggage got lost too, so things haven't been great." You lie with a fake laugh, but the woman seems to buy it.

"Would you guys like some clothes for the night? What's your size?"

The lady is surprisingly friendly, and it's something that makes you genuinely happy. Restores a bit of your faith in humanity.

After sorting everything out and paying for the rooms, you walk out of the small room with two keys and a few sets of clothing. Sherry is leaning against Leon, clinging onto him, while Claire just sits on the ground.

"Here. The lady gave us clothes for the night. Rooms are for two people each, so... you should stay with Sherry, Claire."

Leon is genuinely surprised you're willing to share a room with him.

Maybe he's perverse for hoping that means you'll share a bed with him too — but he can't think about that, because his excitement will show in his pants if he does.

You walk up the stairs outside, finding your rooms at the left side of the motel, next to each other. Claire gives you both a last look before escorting Sherry inside their room, and you enter yours.

And you feel like you're about to evaporate right then and there, because there's only one bed. Fuck this, fuck this—

Leon doesn't even acknowledge it. Internally, he's jumping out of his damn skin, but he tells himself to stop thinking with his dick for now.

"You can go take a shower first." He gestures, but you shake your head.

"You go first. I'm burning up, so I'm gonna take a cold shower, I think."

That's a valid point to him. He gets rid of the holster on his back, the guns he'd hidden underneath his suit vest, as well as the suit vest itself. His red tie is still wrapped around your leg.

The weird thing is that it feels like your leg is completely fine. As a matter of fact, most of your wounds and bruises have healed up — as in, they're gone.

You have no idea why. Or how, for that matter. It's got to have something to do with G, and the vaccine, but it remains a bit of a mystery.

But you decide to let that slide for now, because Leon has just turned on the shower — and you notice there's something in the inside pockets of his suit vest.

First you find a wallet. Lots of cash. Several identical photos of himself, the same one on his passport.

His initials are L.S.K. which apparently stands for Leon Scott Kennedy. At least he didn't lie about his age — he's four years older than you are. Nearly five. Born October 7th, 1974, in Nixa, Missouri, or so it says on his driver's license, as well as his passport.

But that's not all.

There's three other passports from two different countries as well.

Schweizer Pass, Paspoort, Útlevél. Swiss passport, Dutch passport, Hungarian passport and a second American passport.

But if that wasn't already suspicious enough, you see all the different names on them. Levi Arden, Jacob van der Linde, Stefan Kreutz...

"Who the hell are you, Leon?" You mumble quietly under your breath. You have no idea what else he's hiding.

In his wallet, you find more pictures. One old and low quality picture of a woman with blonde curls, and another picture of better quality, showing a younger girl with long blonde hair and similar brown eyes. Who the hell are they?

Once you look at everything you've collected now, it all begins to dazzle. The money, the passports, the pictures, the guns... it scares you, because you know him even less than you thought.

Dwelling on your thoughts, you get a minor heart attack when you hear the shower turning off in the bathroom. Shit! You have to put everything back the way you found it, because you just know Leon will know you went through his stuff if you don't.

You don't know what to do with yourself now, knowing you have to act normal.

As if you didn't just go through his belongings.

With your clothes still dirty, you can't exactly sit down on the bed, so you find yourself in the middle of room when he opens the door.

Oh, this is bad. This is bad.

Because of course he walks out in just a pair of grey sweatpants. His chest is out on display, and you can't help but stare at it. While you've already seen his abs back in Raccoon, after he got shot, you actually have the time to focus on him now.

Not to mention his arms. Goddamn.

Scraping your throat, you fiddle with your hands for a second. "Well, I should, uh... go clean myself up."

He only nods, and when you get to the bathroom, you feel thankful to finally have some time to yourself, because you've been around these strangers the whole time for the past two days.

Part of you is glad to have them around, though.

It takes longer to wash off the dirt and the blood than you thought. You've used the majority of the cheap soap left, but eventually, it does the job.

When you come out of the shower, you find him sitting at the edge of the bed, still shirtless, with a needle in his hand, part of the thread between his teeth.

"What are you doing?" You ask, but only after you've eyed his bare chest.

He raises a brow, pushing the thread out of his mouth with his tongue. "What's it look like?"

"How the hell are you gonna stitch up your own shoulder?"

"I have to, somehow. Unless you're offering."

As much as you've grown to despise him, you still have to take care of him. The man was shot in the shoulder, so medical treatment is the bare minimum he deserves.

The first aid kit he found God knows where lies on the bed next to him. You take the needle holder and insert the needle with the suture attached to it.

You're standing next to the bed, and you feel uncomfortable like this, so you admit your nervousness to him. "I've never done this before."

He already knew that, of course, but he won't say that. "Hook the other end of the suture with your pinky, it keeps it out of the way. And sit in my lap. Gives you easier access."

Did he seriously just say that?

"Okay. So what do I do now?" You ask him once you've settled in between his legs, the position only adding to your nerves.

"Sew up the lower part, so the internal sutures. They're absorbable sutures, so they don't need to be removed later on by a doctor. Make sure you go as low in the wound as you can go, but be careful not to push it."

How the hell is he so calm knowing you're gonna try to sew him up with no experience whatsoever? You'd be losing your shit at this point. Not to mention he's going in this without any kind of anesthesia.

With the medical instruments ready, you attempt to do the first step, but your hands are shaking way too much. You'll only make it worse this way.

This is why you didn't decide to become a doctor. "Take a deep breath."

"I'm not—I'm not a surgeon, I don't have steady hands—"

"You've fought literal monsters and you're telling me you can't do this?" He chuckles a bit, trying to make the situation more lighthearted. "Take a deep breath. Close your eyes for a second if you need to. Once you get that first one in, it gets much easier."

Taking his advice to heart, you swallow and try again. Your hands are still a bit unsteady, but you manage to get the first one in, and the ones after that are much easier, just like he said. Looping the thread through both sides of the cut for each stitch is not as difficult as you expected.

Once you do it the other way around, he gives more instructions. "Make sure to pull on the thread a little so that the tail is shorter."

Mindlessly agreeing to do what he says, you feel the pressure on your chest rising, because you're desperate to do this right.

He hisses a bit, pushing himself not to shift from the uncomfortable feeling. "Once you're done, you need to tie a knot to hold the wound closed. Do it carefully."

Creating a tiny knot, you exhale. "What now?"

"Cut the tail to two millimeters in length. No less and no more."

"Christ, that's specific."

"Be glad it is. Do not cut it too short. Or else it'll be for nothing and you have to start over again."

He's being stern right now, but you're kind of glad he is. The last thing you want him to do right now is to beat around the bush.

You cut the thread with the scissors, fearing for the worst, but it looks like you cut it just right. Giving Leon your pocket mirror, he inspects your handiwork and hums in satisfaction. "You're better than you give yourself credit for."

The compliment makes your cheeks heat up, but you try to maintain indifferent to him. There's still some wounds on his face, which you decide to take care of as well.

Because you're sitting on him, he has to look up at you to make eye contact — and when he does, it's intense. Almost uncomfortably so. Neither of you really know what that look means, but it's something that stirs up your feelings.

His eyes follow you like a hawk again, even when you move to grab butterfly closures from the first aid kit. You put the thin adhesive strips on the small wound he's got on his temple. Other than that, you don't detect any other injuries.

So you use sterile wound dressings from a plastic packet and cover up the freshly sewn up wound, ensuring that it won't get infected.

He shifts underneath your lap, and both of you are wildly turned on. You can feel yourself growing more and more tense with each second, because he doesn't let his hand rest on the bed — he glides it up in a smooth motion to your hips, his fingers practically touching your bare skin through the thin fabric of your shirt.

Now that you've finished patching him up, you put down the supplies, and you can feel his piercing gaze on your body. You're still holding onto him with your left hand, and as soon as you've put down the last rag in your hand, he pulls your face closer to his and locks his lips with yours.

His self-control has crumbled to a point where he's hit rock bottom. He wants you so bad, you're sitting in his lap for Christ's sake, sitting and rubbing on his crotch as if it's nothing.

His action catches you by surprise, but deep down you kind of felt something like this was bound to happen, with the dim lighting, the undeniable sexual tension and the warmth of his body this close to yours.

Kissing him is like losing control over your whole body. He continues the trail down your jaw, to your neck. The moment he's got you in the palm of his hand like this, it's all over for you, because your craving of him is stronger than your sense of morality.

So that's why your fellow survivor next door decides to remind you that it should really be the other way around.

Claire has pushed the door open, her hand still on the doorknob when she gasps from shock.

"Fuck." You hiss after pushing him away from the crook of your neck, but Claire's seen enough. Your swollen lips are more than enough proof too.

You mostly feel embarrassed because you got caught like this. Leon is truly the most pissed off he's been at Claire so far, because this chick just won't stop bothering you two—

"Have you never heard of knocking?" He asks sarcastically, and the girl narrows her eyes.

"I did that, asshole, but I didn't get a response. Light was still on so I figured you guys weren't sleeping yet."

"We certainly weren't planning on it." He mutters under his breath, though loud enough for you to hear.

Claire turns to you, a scowl still on her face when she tries to soften her tone a bit. "Can we talk outside for a second?"

It's obvious she's talking about you and her, purposely excluding Leon. You glance at him for a second but agree nonetheless.

And he doesn't like it one bit.

Once you've stepped outside, you cross your arms over your chest, because it's awfully cold outside at this hour. The redhead takes a deep breath before she begins to speak.

"What's going on between you and him?"

It's a question you didn't expect from her, much less one you know how to answer.

"It's... complicated."

She blinks a few times, her hair moving with the wind. "Is it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Listen, I can contact the cops about him if you want me to. They can take him in and—"

"Hold on, you wanna get him arrested? Are you serious?"

"You—you don't want to?" She asks, beyond baffled at your response. "Have you forgotten the way he treated you in the lab? When he threatened to kill me?"

"His threats don't mean that much." You tell her, then regretting your words, because it almost sounds like you're justifying his behavior.

"If you hadn't been there, he would've killed me. Not to mention he tried to kill me in the sewers too."

You frown at her statement. "He tried what?"

"He told me you'd insisted on splitting up. He was having a normal conversation with me, and all of a sudden he just attacks me and throws me into the water, tries to drown me — he only let me live because I mentioned Sherry's name."

Her words drive you nuts. "Jesus, I..."

"You cannot trust him." She emphasizes. "I have no idea who he is or why he even joined Umbrella in the first place, but the guy is twenty-three and has no issues with killing innocent people. If that's not alarming to you, I don't know what is. He's manipulating you."

Now that it feels like she's scolding you, you begin to bite back. "Don't call the cops on him. I'm not done with him yet."

"What do you mean—"

"I'll talk to you tomorrow. Right now, I just need some peace and quiet, something no one here seems to be willing to give me. You'd do best to try and get some sleep yourself. Have a good night, Claire."

Your words come out harsher than intended, but your tiredness makes you snappy. It always has. Surely she can understand that much.

But that doesn't take away the fact that she's right. You know close to nothing about Leon and it bothers you, because in spite of the mystery surrounding his identity and his past, you keep letting him in anyways. That has to stop. Now.

So you enter your room again, and he's still seated on the bed, but the first aid kit is gone now. When you say nothing to him, he raises a brow.

"What did she say?"

"Nothing worth discussing."

Oh, it was definitely about him. He fucking knew it.

"Well, it clearly matters to you, since you're acting this cold all of a sudden." He mentions while getting up from the bed.

You clench your jaw. "She just informed me that you tried to kill her when we were split up in the sewers."

Leon bites his lip, thinking of the best way to handle this. "I did."

"You let her live because she mentioned Sherry. You only knew Sherry through me. The second time you tried to kill her, you let her live for my sake too."

"Where are you going with this?"

Inhaling sharply, you're pretty sure you've never looked as calmly angry as you have right now. Like a time bomb waiting for the right moment to explode.

"Would you have killed them? Elliot? Marvin? Claire?" You ask. "If I hadn't been with you?"

He just stares at you. "What did I say about asking questions you already know the answer to?"

A shiver runs down your spine with his monotonous voice. "You're heartless."

"If that's what you want to think, be my guest." He shrugs. "Marvin and Elliot were gonna die regardless 'cause they were infected. I could've stuck with Claire, used her as... well, who knows. I only tried to kill her because she's Redfield's sister."

"And what about me? What reason did you have for keeping me alive?"

He purses his lips for a little bit, taking a step closer to you. "I considered killing you for approximately two seconds."

That makes you frown. "What?"

"When you bumped into me at the gas station. I considered shooting you until I realized you were not infected. Just because I was ordered to execute remaining survivors doesn't mean I was actually planning on doing that."

"Am I supposed to be flattered now? Because you just used me for your own gain."

"Did I?" He asks. "How? What did I gain from keeping you alive, hm?"

"I'm carrying G. The virus and the vaccine."

"Great. Not like I need it." He retorts flatly, acting as if he's out of fucks to give. Hell, maybe he is.

It makes your blood boil for some reason. You never were good at dealing with your anger issues, but fucking hell, you're convinced he's acting like this for the sole purpose of getting you to see red.

"Fine." You chuckle with no humor behind it. "Then why the fuck did you keep me with you? Why risk your life for me? You'd have made it to the lab quicker on your own, so why? What have you gained from all this?"

And he's so fucking annoyed with you right now, so he spits out the response as if it's venom. "The only thing I gained out of keeping you alive was getting my heart broken. I lost you and it was all my fault."

Your lips part, but you don't know what to say. How are you supposed to respond to that?

Why is he still this damn unpredictable?

Suddenly, he walks over to you with a stern look on his face. There's this... superiority in the way he walks and talks that pisses you off and simultaneously turns you on. "Would it make you feel better if you hit me?"

"What?"

"Doesn't take a genius to see you're still seething. Go on. Hit me."

It's funny. He genuinely believed it'd take more convincing on his end, but you don't even hesitate to give him a harsh slap on his cheek, the sound of it echoing through the room. It stings, but he thinks it's worth it, seeing your angry face. It kinda gets him going.

What he certainly doesn't expect is you hitting him again, because your rage is only flaring up, getting more intense because of the adrenaline rushing through your body now.

You hit him square in the jaw with your fist this time, and he's pretty sure he can taste drops of his own blood on his tongue. When you move to hit him again, he stops you by grabbing your wrist. "That's enough."

He's glaring at you now, and you do the same. "You didn't say I could only hit you once."

"Sorry to disappoint, Doll." He says with fake politeness. "But we're even now. I've hurt you, you've hurt me."

"You're delusional if you think we're even now." You bite back, gritting your teeth while his hold on your wrist is still tight.

He narrows his eyes. "I've already apologized for acting the way that I did."

"And you think I just magically forgave you after that? Screw you."

"No, no, do enlighten me. What's it gonna take for you to forgive me? Tell me."

"Nothing." You respond, and it makes him frown. "Maybe if you hadn't pretended to like me all night, I would've been less hard on you. But I guess I should say congratulations — you played me, and you won. I completely fell for your little act. Just like you wanted, right?"

"I didn't lie about liking you."

"Yeah, and I'm the president of the United States."

Your sarcasm only makes him more frustrated right now. "Are you fucking kidding me? You're seriously not going to believe anything I say anymore?"

"That's what you get for being a liar!" You tell him angrily, pointing a finger at him before lowering your voice. "There is something seriously wrong with you, Leon. In all honesty, I have no fucking clue what it is. Maybe you're a sociopath. Maybe you're a narcissist. Maybe you just have some other weird issue, I don't know, nor do I care. It's fucked up either way. The way you looked at me in the lab after I found out? The way you chased me and scared me as if we were in a goddamn horror movie? The way you used me as a human shield when we ran into Claire? You're a sick bastard."

For a moment you think you've overstepped it and actually hurt his feelings, with the way he just flinched at your words — but he just scoffs. "Calling me a psycho just because I played you? Little much, don't you think?"

His face is so close to yours that it's intimidating, but you maintain your composure. "Of course that's your response."

"I know you still have feelings for me. You're a terrible liar, you know."

You're unable to hold back a sarcastic laugh. "And you're a great one. Which is why I don't trust a single word coming out of your mouth."

He chooses to ignore your statement, for now, taking a step forward with every step you take backwards until your back meets the wall. "I liked kissing you, y'know."

"I'm so flattered."

"'I'll do anything you want'." He quotes your words from that night with the corner of his mouth curled upwards. "Isn't that what you told me?"

Is he serious? He's not actually asking for—no, he's not. Right?

"Yeah, I did tell you that. I was kinda fighting for my life as well as Claire's, for the record, so I—"

Your words are cut off because he's backing you up against the wall. "Time to give me 'anything I want' now."

Heart pounding in your chest, you're pretty sure even he can hear it. "Depends on what it is."

Well, he wants to fuck you. Badly. He craves it. But not like this — not when you haven't forgiven him, not if you won't look at him the way you used to. "I want you to tell me what it'll take for you to forgive me. Or at the very least stop hating me."

Oh. You didn't think he was gonna say that.

"Right now, I need you to leave me alone. I'm tired and I'm pretty sure I'll go insane if I stay awake any longer." You let out a sigh but maintain the cold attitude. "But if you want me to even think of potentially forgiving you, you're gonna have to be honest. I wanna know everything. Who you are, why you did the things you did. And maybe more importantly, why you're carrying five different passports with you. Tell me the truth, Leon. If that even is your real name."

Notes:

sheesh. the research i had to do for this chapter. international passports, surgery equipment, different kinds of sutures, states of the U.S… lmao i put too much effort into making this shit realistic

anyways y'all better be happy bc they're fucking next chapter !

Chapter 19: Blessed are the Peacemakers

Summary:

Leon likes to bicker with redheads and pop cherries in his spare time.

Notes:

hi hello! this chapter contains (awfully detailed) very explicit sexual content. if you are under sixteen (‼️) or uncomfortable with reading nsfw content, please feel free to skip this part of the chapter.

if you're a whore like me, welcome home.

content warnings: oral sex (f receiving), fingering, virginity loss, unprotected sex, creampie, leon has a big dick and a whole ass corruption kink, just soft sex tbh 3

this is a long one folks. whole lotta feels and a whole lotta badly written porn. enjoy it lmao

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Waking up the next day is like having a hangover without drinking. The energy you had in your body yesterday has been replaced by this tiring numbness, a headache that makes you clench your fists every now and then. The painkillers don't seem to do much.

You had a hard time sleeping last night. Covered in sweat, you woke up from nightmares twice, not to mention you got scared every time you thought you saw some kind of silhouette resembling a zombie at the other side of the room. It's like the trauma is finally catching up to you, even now, sitting at a table in the same restaurant you had dinner last night. You attempt to hide your shaking hands and trembling body as much as you can.

Leon hasn't exactly caught much sleep either. He couldn't fall asleep for the first few hours, no matter how hard he tried.

After the outburst between you last night, he hasn't said much. Neither have you. He's just not sure what to say anymore, and he's trying to give you the space you said you wanted.

He sighs, sitting next to you in the booth. You're practically the only ones in the restaurant right now, aside from an older couple sitting at the counter.

You've finished your breakfast, so now you're just drinking your cappucino. Leon, like the old man he is, takes his coffee black with nothing in it. "So, what do we do now?" You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"I had an idea." Claire speaks up. "I came to the city looking for Chris, and I'm still going after him, even if I know what he's been up to now. I'm sure Leon has other matters to attend to, so maybe you could take Sherry to your home?"

Both you and Leon end up sitting across from her with furrowed brows. "So you're leaving? Just like that?" You question, believing she's handling this badly.

"Well, I..." The redhead begins, trying to find the right words, because she didn't expect either of you to respond like this. "He's my brother. I gotta find him."

Leon takes a few dollars out of his pocket. "Sherry, why don't you go buy yourself a snack for the road?"

The little girl isn't stupid, she knows something's up, but takes the money from him nonetheless. She walks away, her shoulders hanging low at the thought of Claire leaving her.

"You have got to be the biggest hypocrite I've ever met in my goddamn career." Leon hisses at Claire once Sherry is out of earshot. "What is wrong with you?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you blind too? Have you not seen how she naturally looms by your side? You're the person who saved her, who helped her out when her parents wouldn't, and now you're leaving her side too? Are you serious?"

He's straight up angry. It reminds him of his own youth, how broken his sister would've been if he had left her — and whether either of you believe it or not, he has also grown to care about the chatty little girl currently standing by the counter.

"It's not like that. I need to find him, especially with all the shit that happened now. I know Sherry cares about me—"

"Yeah, you just don't care. Right."

"So now I'm the cold one? As if you're not some straight-up psycho."

"Fucked up as I may be, I've got more empathy in my left nut than you've got in your entire body."

"You motherfucker—"

Before Claire can respond to him properly, you shut her up by holding up your finger, because you notice the news is being broadcasted on the TV at the other side of the restaurant, near the counter. "'Earlier this morning, around 3 AM, the U.S. Military has fired a missile at Raccoon City after an unknown and apparently lethal virus plagued the city. Authorities have suggested law enforcement has turned its sights onto the pharmaceutical giant Umbrella. The city was primarily known for being the home of said corporation. To prevent the spread of the virus elsewhere into the Midwest, the government imposed a large exclusion zone and ordered several coordinated military operations within the city to euthanize the infected and rescue uninfected survivors. By Thursday, the situation became untenable, which is why the bombing of the city was authorized.'"

A segment with old videos of the city plays with a narration about the location and the days before and during the outbreak.

Holy shit. You're at a loss for words. They actually bombed the city? That's insane. They're even publicly blaming Umbrella for the whole ordeal, which surprises you.

Sherry comes back to the table, and you gesture for her to sit down between you and Leon, which she does. She cries silently, and you can't help but feel bad for her. The home she grew up in was destroyed, her parents officially dead, the traumas she's gotten from the outbreak — her childhood is over. How is she even supposed to begin to move on from this nightmare?

Leon comforts her surprisingly well, and she cries into his shoulder. You feel the lump in your throat growing when you think of the bombing of the city. You survived, and you're convinced there must've been more survivors across the city. Did they make it out alive? No, the majority of them were probably killed after the missile was fired.

"There's a gas station half a mile from here. We go there, steal a car, form a plan once we're on the road." He says, looking at both you and Claire.

You nod, getting up from the table. After you've paid, you leave the restaurant, gathering your stuff from your room — so guns, mostly — and you quickly make your way to the gas station nearby. It takes ten minutes at most. You're able to hide in the bushes, so you do.

"I really hope you have experience with this." Claire says in a warning tone, still ever so wary of him, and Leon rolls his eyes.

He speaks without even bothering to look at her, still focused on the parked cars in front of him. "I could hot-wire a car in my sleep. Now do us all a favor and shut up."

He picks out the car that easily blends in with the rest of the traffic with a proper engine, should you be chased at some point.

A black Toyota driving into the parking lot catches his eye. A relatively small man steps out and locks it, walking around the corner to enter the shop. Oh, that's perfect. He hasn't spotted a security camera with an overview of the parking lot either, so the moment it's safe, he sprints towards the car, breaking in quicker than any of you can comprehend, especially from a distance. He sits down in the driver's seat and closes the door, using the barrel of his gun to break the locking pins in the ignition.

While he's doing his thing, you can only wait, hoping he'll get it done in time before the owner of the car returns. "C'mon." You mumble under your breath, anxiety rising more and more.

Suddenly the lamps turn on and the engine starts revving. He puts it in reverse, driving backwards and then forward in a smooth but swift motion.

Claire and Sherry get in the backseat when you move into the passenger seat. Before you even have the chance to reach for your seatbelt, he already drives off, onto the highway.

He's going at a good speed already. He grabs something from his pocket, and it turns out to be an MP3 player with a pair of headphones. Reaching for the backseat, he holds the device out for Sherry to take. "It's gonna be a long drive. You can get some more sleep if you want to." He says to her.

Aside from the fact that she's got a little crush on Leon — because who wouldn't? — she truly appreciates him being so kind to her, so she grabs the device and touches his hand briefly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The radio softly plays in the background. It's quiet in the car for a while, but it's a peaceful quiet. Gives you time to think.

When Sherry's asleep, Claire leans forward to the front seats, speaking in a hushed tone. "Why did you say it was going to be a long drive? Where are we going?"

He finds a map in the glove compartment, which he hands to you so you can unfold it. Once you have, he points to a place on the map. "From what I know, we're currently in Tennessee. We're gonna drive about five hours to Nixa, Missouri, which is where we'll drop off Blondie before we split up and go our separate ways."

Your heart sinks when he says that when really, you should be relieved. Claire's confused, though. "What's in Nixa?"

"My place." He answers, continuing to clarify the situation. "My sister lives there. She can take care of Sherry. You know, since you're not willing to do it."

"You know it's not like that, jackass—"

"Anyway, we're gonna split up after doing that. My predictions are that your brother is most likely somewhere in Eastern Europe, so if you're smart, you'll go there. Meanwhile, you and I will be heading to Zurich."

When you realize he's referring to you, understanding he wants to stay together, you're not sure what to say. "Zurich? Switzerland? I thought you were taking me home."

"Yeah. You're not just taking her to some foreign country. Why don't we go to the authorities? I've got evidence."

Leon narrows his eyes, thinking about you and Claire, how you both don't seem to understand what he's trying to say here. "Neither of you get it, do you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" You question, after which he lets out a sigh.

"Do you know who made the decision to nuke the city? The government. And they didn't just do it to prevent the infection from spreading." He explains. "They did it so they could cover things up, so that the public won't find out about the truth."

Claire rolls her eyes. "You're being too vague."

"Alright, let me spell it out for you." He responds sarcastically. "The truth behind the incident is, first of all, that the virus turned people into literal zombies — which the public doesn't know — but that's not even the main reason. The big truth behind everything is about the governments involvement and military's contracts with Umbrella. They were close to buying viruses from them, remember? Now they're publicly leaving the company out to dry and make them take the fall for everything related to the incident. The government bombed Raccoon City to cover up their dealings with the company. Real classy."

You are finally understanding what he's getting at. "And we're survivors. Witnesses."

"Exactly."

The redhead holds onto the left side of your seat. "How would they know we survived? Hell, how would they even know we were in the city at the time of the outbreak? All three of us came from different places. None of us were residents of the city."

"Ever heard of security cameras? I'm willing to bet the train that led us out of the city had some inside the cars. Ditto for the final station. We left the bigger guns behind, which have our fingerprints on it. There's a possibility anyone who spotted us in the motel or the restaurant alerted the authorities. Want me to keep going?"

His intelligence truly shines through during moments like these. The things you found in his belongings last night, the way he's thinking ten steps ahead, how he only has to scan a map once and already knows it from the back of his head — it's like he's made for this. He seems to understand the world better than any of you do, and even if things aren't good between you two, you'd probably do best to stick with him for the time being.

"Okay. I get the point. What's the government gonna do if they find us?"

"Arrest us. Take us into custody. Nothing good, that's for damn sure."

"Arrest us? On what grounds?"

Claire's ignorance and naivety begins to annoy him more and more, and he's convinced that this is the most infuriating girl he's ever met in his life. "You're delusional if you think they need a reason to take us in. They do whatever they want, Red, whether it's right or wrong."

You stare in the distance, mind drifting off while half listening to the conversation the two of them are having. You're not sure what it is, but you feel a certain way you can't explain — like your whole life is about to change and there's nothing you can do about it. It's sadness and melancholy all in one.

Leon gently touches your arm. "Are you okay?"

"You're saying we're essentially fugitives, right?" You respond to him. "What are we supposed to do? Live like this for the rest of our lives? Constantly looking over our shoulders? Living in constant danger? I can't do that. What about my family? They knew I was going to Raccoon, I—I haven't even called them, they probably think I'm dead—"

He recognizes a rising panic attack when he sees one, so he takes your hand and intertwines your fingers with his. "Hey, it's all gonna be okay. We'll figure it out. You've got me, alright? You're not on your own."

You unconsciously squeeze his hand while calming yourself down, a single tear running down your cheek. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Doll." He breathes out, not letting go of your hand just yet. He has to remind himself that this life isn't normal for either of you. As a matter of fact, it's not even normal for him. He's never been a fugitive before. "What I'm trying to point out is that Sherry can lay low with the help of my sister. Claire, you could potentially get protection because your brother is in law enforcement. So that leaves the two of us." He makes eye contact with you, and his love for you hits him harder than before, because the last thing he wants is for anything to happen to you.

The blonde girl in the backseat shifts a little in her sleep. Claire bites her lip. "Can I ask why you're planning on going to Zurich of all places?"

"I've got a safehouse there. That's all you need to know." His response is curt and a little cold, but he doesn't want to go into deep detail about it. Who knows what she's gonna tell her brother once she finds him. "Either way, the two of us have the biggest targets on our backs, with me being a former Umbrella agent and you being... well, whatever you are now."

That makes you frown. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Nearly all of your wounds have healed up, which is impossible for the regular human being. I bet if I shot a bullet into your shoulder right now, you'd be able to take it right out and heal up again. All because of the G-virus."

"But you gave me the vaccine."

"I did. You got infected, your body was being changed on a cellular level, DNA included, but then I gave you the antigen, which stopped all activity of the virus and stopped it from progressing. It didn't undo the changes that already happened."

It sounds like a solid theory. You reach for your forehead, being overwhelmed by all the things that are happening to you right now. Leon is still holding your other one, which you're kind of enjoying — but he doesn't need to know that.

The ride is long and tiring. Luckily, you're able to catch some sleep. At least until a hand touching your shoulder nudges you awake. "C'mon. We made it."

Catching a glimpse of his watch, you see it's around 3 PM, so Leon must've driven at a good speed to get here in time.

Speaking of 'here'... where the hell are you again?

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light, but you see a house. A pretty nice one, actually. Right — Leon's home.

Your stolen car is parked in the driveway, and you as well as the two girls in the backseat are getting out of the car when the front door opens.

"Leon?" A teenage girl steps outside, quite literally running into his arms. He holds her tightly, and when they let go of each other, she hits his chest. "Damn you! I heard the news and I thought you were dead. Why didn't you call!?"

She's emotional, and since she's not focused on you, you've got the time to study her a little. She's shorter than you are, dirty blonde hair, slightly tanned skin, high cheekbones — she looks a lot like him. You find similarities in their lips, hair color, facial features... which can only mean that this is his sister. And you recognize her as the girl on one of the pictures in his wallet.

Her brown eyes turn to meet yours, and she frowns a little. "You uh — you brought friends?" She asks her brother, and you don't really blame her. You'd be a little weirded out as well if you had a sibling suddenly bringing home three teenage girls looking like shit.

"Yeah... we need to talk." He says, introducing each of you to her. "Ladies, this is my sister, Sarah."

"Nice to meet you." She says, and as weirded out as she is by the whole ordeal, her words seem genuine.

You all move inside, and while you three admire the inside of the suburban home, Leon is dragged into the kitchen by his sister. "What the hell is going on here? You tell me you're gonna be gone for just a single night, then instead you disappear for days, you don't give me as much as a call, and now you show up here with two college girls and a preteen!?" She hisses under her breath.

"Raccoon City was doomed to begin with. Listen, there's some things you need to know."

He tells her everything. About the zombies, how you fought for your lives, what it took just to make it out of the city alive. How he decided to quit working for Umbrella, which pretty much means he isn't safe anywhere.

He doesn't tell her about the stuff that happened between you and him in the lab, though. Absolutely fucking not. That's the one part he leaves out.

"So what're you gonna do now?"

"They'll discover our identities sooner or later, that is if they haven't discovered 'em already. We were planning on splitting up from here. Claire's going to Europe to continue the search for her brother, I'm thinking of heading to Zurich right now but things may change — all I know is that I'm taking her with me."

He glances at you from his spot, and Sarah knows something is up immediately. "Is she your partner?"

Used to be. He reminisces of those moments when you referred to you and him as Bonnie and Clyde. "She's a little more than that."

"Holy fucking shit." She chuckles a little, slapping his shoulder. "You're in love."

"I'm not—I'm not in love. Keep it down, will you?" He says with a suppressed smile when she nudges his side.

"You totally are! Oh, that's so cute! I never thought I'd live to see the day."

"You're seventeen, stop being so dramatic."

"And you're turning twenty-four in a few days!" She laughs, but her smile falters when she realizes something. "That means you'll be on the run at the time of your birthday."

He hadn't even thought of that yet. "Yeah, it sucks. I know, I'm sorry."

Sarah shakes her head. "No, you don't have to be. I understand. By the way, what's the plan for the preteen?"

The preteen being Sherry, of course, he bites his lip. "She's gotta stay here until I get back. Possibly longer."

Her eyebrows furrow. "What?"

"I know the situation isn't ideal—"

"Not ideal? You can't expect me to take care of a little girl for God knows how long!"

"She has no one. Okay?" He interrupts her, speaking silently but sternly. "Her father mutated into a monster because he injected himself with a virus. Her mother died in front of her from wounds inflicted by the dad. Claire, who saved her, is leaving. She's an only child. Her childhood home — the city she called home as well as nearly everyone in it — has been destroyed. She's got no one. I have to run, otherwise I'd do it myself."

That hits close to home for her, given the situation with their parents. How for several years, they've only had each other.

She sighs and nods. "Okay. I'll do it. I guess it'll be nice having someone around."

He's thankful for having Sarah — she's always had his back and he knows he can rely on her. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if he ever lost her.

After they finish their conversation, Leon gestures for you to follow the two of them up the stairs. "Unfortunately, we can't stay here for the night. This is the first place they'll check if they find out about us. We gotta go to a nearby motel again, so we better pack some things this time."

He enters his own room, but you don't get to look at it for very long, because Sarah takes you to her room instead. "You can take some of my clothes."

She gestures for you to sit down on the edge of her bed while she rummages through her closet. Adjusting your hair, you sit with your legs crossed. "I'm sorry we barged in like this. When Leon mentioned he had a sister, I pictured an older sister instead of a younger one."

She looks back at you. "Don't be sorry. He told me about what happened — I can't even imagine going through something like that."

"Yeah, it was... horrible."

"But I'm sure things will be alright soon. If you've got my brother with you, you'll live." She chuckles, and the statement makes you curious.

"How much do you know? About his job?"

"No details. He keeps those from me with a reason. Just like how he must've kept them from you all the same." She replies, knowing that you want to know more. Oh, she's smart. "I don't know much, but he does bad things for lots of money, and with all the guns and cash we've got stored here, doesn't take a genius to figure it out. But he's not a bad guy, you know."

While she puts a few sets of clothing in the backpack next to you, you swallow. "Are you sure about that?"

"He does things he shouldn't. I know that. But he's genuinely the sweetest and most loving person I know, and... he's been through so much. That's probably why he is the way he is. I was too young at the time."

"What do you mean?"

"I think he should tell you that himself. Which I'm certain he will, because he has a crush on you."

Your cheeks become red. "How do you know that?"

"I would have to be blind not to notice." She smiles gleefully. "And judging from all this, I think you've got a crush on him too."

Her words make you blush even more, and you wanna know what's up with the Kennedy siblings and being able to see right through you without even knowing you.

Leon knocks on the door and enters the room. "You two done yet?"

Sarah nods. "Pretty much."

"Okay, good. As much as I wanna stay, we've been here for too long already. We gotta move." He says to both of you, and you hum in agreement, getting ready to say your goodbyes downstairs.

You'll be leaving Sherry with Sarah, Claire is going her separate way, you're leaving with Leon... It all feels a little weird when you say goodbye.

You hug Sherry tightly, tell Claire to take care of herself and Sarah that it was nice meeting her.

And just like that, you get in the car, driving to another motel just out of town, and you arrange the room for the night.

The place is definitely nicer compared to where you stayed last night. It's more modern, cleaner, and the bed seems comfortable. You put your stuff on the table and Leon offers you to take the shower first this time, and you agree.

Once you're out again and Leon takes his turn, you take a deep and shaky breath, turning on the tv to distract yourself.

"'The government is urging any survivors to come in at their local police station so that the authorities can provide them with the help they need.'"

It makes you clench your teeth. Fucking liars.

A reporter stands by the perimeter that was set up after the blast, several bystanders trying to see anything that could satisfy their curiosity.

You sit on the bed in a tanktop and sweatpants, eyes still glued to the screen when Leon returns to the shared bedroom. Maybe you shouldn't be so surprised that he's shirtless again — it almost makes you wonder if he's doing it on purpose.

It's sick how both of you pretend to ignore the palpable tension between you, but you do it anyway. You think of the kiss you shared last night, how you sat in his lap with his fingers trailing down your lower back. As wrong as it was, you did enjoy it. He probably did too, given how angry he was when Claire interrupted you.

But things have been awfully tense since that moment, and you both still feel it. That's why he gives you your space and takes his own.

He sits down on the soft, carpeted floor, with his back facing you, head leaning back on the mattress. He has a proper view of the screen broadcasting the news from here without blocking yours.

The screen shows a commercial break coming up, so you turn down the volume to the point you can barely hear it. "So... Zurich."

He doesn't turn to look at you when he speaks up. "It's either that or Amsterdam. I've got a safehouse in either place."

Of course he does.

"Great. I don't exactly have a passport with me."

"I'm more than aware." God, he rarely ever smokes, but he could really go for a cigarette right now.

His secrecy pisses you off. "Are you planning on like, telling me anything? At all?"

"Sure. Just not right now."

Oh, he must think he's slick with the attitude. Real funny.

Leon suddenly feels your finger flicking against the back of his head. It doesn't actually hurt, but being the dramatic asshole he can be sometimes, he finally turns to look at you. "What is your problem, woman? Jesus."

"As much as we both may hate it, we're a team again now. Equals. That means you tell me what the fuck you're up to."

"Says the girl who refuses to forgive me."

"I've told you that all you need to do is tell me who you are for me to think of even doing that, and if I recall correctly, you haven't done that yet. Not even the slightest attempt."

"So, what, you wanna play twenty questions now? Gonna ask me what my favorite color is?"

"You know what? Sure. Let's start with that."

He huffs. "Green."

"Favorite meal?"

"Pussy."

"Jesus Christ, Leon." You say while the man in question has the audacity to put his thumb up in the air, biting his lip with a big grin.

"What? You wanted me to be honest."

"Yeah, not that honest."

He rolls his eyes. "Women."

"Hey, you don't get to judge. Liar."

"I believe we're well past that."

"Excuse me? No we're not. I haven't forgiven you."

"Ugh. You're exhausting."

"You know what was exhausting? Running away from you in the lab."

"You could've decided to, I don't know, not run from me."

"And stay with you? The literal murderer?"

"Please do not address me like that."

"Ah, hearing the truth is tough, huh?"

"You know that I never planned on actually killing or hurting you."

"How comforting."

"Hey, you put a gun to my head as well. That was traumatizing as fuck."

"I'm sure! You got to make up for it by traumatizing me even more! Thanks for that, by the way."

As you speak, he sits up straight, looking you in the eye now. "Do you really, truly hate me that much?"

It's a difficult question to answer. The thing is, you feel like you should hate him to the bone for the things he did, but you don't.

Pressing your lips together, you put a hold to your sarcasm and give him a genuine answer. "No, I don't hate you, but... I feel like I just can't forgive you yet. Betrayal just really hurts, and I've never been one to forgive and forget."

He can see now how much you're struggling with yourself internally. You feel like forgiving him would be morally wrong, that it would make you a bad person.

But he's selfish, in a way. He needs you to forgive him. "Ask me anything you wanna know. Anything."

You blink a few times. "Sarah said that... you've been through a lot. That she was too young at the time. What was she talking about?"

His entire youth, essentially. "You want the short or the long version?"

"Long."

Oh, he despises talking about it. That's why he never does it, he never lets anyone in, but he owes you this much.

Standing up, he grabs his wallet from the table. He takes one passport and puts it in your hand, gesturing for you to open it up. "Everything I've told you so far has been true. Leon S. Kennedy is my real name, the house we went to today is the home I grew up in. This is my real passport. The rest are all aliases."

"I was born in the hospital in Nixa to Peter Kennedy and Emilia Kreutz. Mom was half Swiss, half Dutch. College teacher. She taught history. Dad was a true American, businessman. Real estate. They got paid well, I grew up in the suburbs, everything was fine. They had Sarah when I was six. We weren't really a happy family, Mom and Dad argued a lot. The only reason they didn't get a divorce was for us. That was until Mom got cancer."

Leon pauses for a second, and you feel like it didn't end well. The question leaves your mouth hesitantly, afraid that his answer will be as you're expecting. "What happened to her?"

The man stares in front of him mindlessly before he reaches into his wallet. He takes out a piece of paper and gives it to you.

And the piece of paper turns out to be the picture you saw before of the woman with long, voluminous blonde hair and bright blue eyes — the blue eyes he has. She has a bright smile, flashing her teeth, and it makes you wonder what her laugh would sound like.

As you evaluate the polaroid sitting between your fingers, he responds to your question. "The doctors discovered it too late. They tried chemo, but... it wasn't enough. She passed away when I was fourteen. Still miss her to this day. It'll be ten years ago, soon. Promised Sarah we'd visit her grave together. She never wants to do it on her own, she always cries. Seeing it breaks me every time."

It hurts seeing him like this. He isn't crying, there isn't a tear to be seen, he just looks... so broken and defeated. The lump in your throat grows, and you hate getting emotional so quick, but the tears still well up in your eyes.

When he hears you sniffle, he finally turns his head to glance at you, seeing you're on the verge of crying, and he moves up onto the bed to wipe your tears away. "Hey, if anything I'm supposed to cry here, not you."

It makes you both chuckle, and you shake your head while attempting to swallow the ache in your throat. "I'm sorry. I just—I didn't know."

"It's okay." He wraps his arms around you in an attempt to comfort you.

Eventually, he lets go, gesturing for you to scoot over so he can sit closer to you this time. "After Mom died, it was clear that my Dad really never wanted kids in the first place. Not that I wasn't aware of that already. He grew addicted to coke, lost his job, was a shit father. Always had been, even when Mom was still around, even before all the drugs. He's blamed us for his addiction many times, and I hated him for it. I still do. Sarah was only nine or ten around that time. Just a kid. And he fucking yelled at her as if she was an adult. He hurt me physically, but I could take it. It wasn't that bad. But when he tried to hurt Sarah, I... that's when I knew it was all on him."

"God. Is he still an addict?"

"No idea. I hope he's dead." He says, bitterness dripping from his tongue, a huge contrast compared to how he talked of his mother. "When I was sixteen, I got back home from school, found a note and a pile of cash on the kitchen table. He left us, couldn't deal with raising two kids who were, in his eyes, and I quote, 'more than capable of raising themselves'."

Jesus. You feel so bad for him — what kind of upbringing is that? What kind of parent would abandon their child like that?

"I decided to keep quiet about it at school. However, when no one showed up for parent meetings, both our schools found out that we were underage and living without a guardian, so they alerted social services. We would be going into foster families, and maybe I would've been okay with that — but they were planning on separating us. I wasn't gonna let my little sister gonna live with strangers on her own."

"So what did you do?"

"Told the lady who was on our case that I was gonna tell her husband she was cheating on him unless she was willing to cut a deal with me."

Your jaw drops. That's... quite something for a 16-year-old. But from what you know, that's something that kind of makes sense. Leon had to grow up way sooner than normal kids. "Jesus, Leon. And she took you seriously?"

"Of course she did. My baby face may not have been very intimidating, but the evidence I got sure was." He chuckles, clearly still proud of himself for pulling that off.

"Well, what was the deal you struck with her?"

"Well, I had a surprisingly good bond with my football coach at school, so they assigned him to be my legal guardian until I would turn eighteen. He knew I was a serious kid, so he let me live on my own, gave me enough money each month for me and my sister to live off. His wife was pretty rich anyways." He laughs, and it instantly makes you feel better, seeing him happy. "I still intend to pay them back, even if he told me not to."

With his wallet still sitting beside him, he picks it up once more and takes something different out this time. "What's this?"

It turns out to be a folded photo of him and two other guys. "Roommates from the police academy."

God, if he tells you they died too for whatever reason, you're pretty sure you'll burst into tears. "Wait, police academy? You were actually gonna be a police officer?"

He nods at you. "The program I was in was supposed to take two years. At the end of my first year, I was at the top of my classes, I worked hard and everyone knew it. Thing is that I never finished the program, because I was approached by Umbrella at the end of my first year. I was only nineteen at the time."

"Why would a wannabe police officer agree to becoming... whatever you are? Why did you accept their offer?"

Leon exhales, swallowing, and you momentarily focus on his Adam's apple. "They didn't exactly tell me I was going to become the equivalent of a mercenary. I thought it was going to be a security kind of job. I don't even really remember — the pay was good. I was a bit naive back then. In the beginning, it was just gaining intel, which sometimes was illegal, but... it took two years before I was assigned to an actual target. My first kill was in Geneva."

You get a little upset over his words. "... the pay was good?"

"That's the only reason I took the job. Had to pay for both my and Sarah's living expenses, healthcare, wanted to pay my former coach back for covering us, not to mention Sarah's college tuition once she would be older... I didn't know any other way. I had no idea how I was gonna pay for it all. I felt like if I didn't accept the offer, I was gonna be drowning in debt before even getting to twenty-five. For a 19-year-old with barely anyone to talk to, I didn't feel like I had much of a choice."

Oh. You spoke too soon.

He slumps back in his place, swallowing the pain in his throat. "I'm sorry if that was too much information, I... I've never really talked to anyone about this."

Attempting to hide his shaky hands, he now feels that familiar lump in his throat growing. He doesn't want to cry, he hates crying — and you move to sit in front of him. "Can I hug you?"

He can't get a single word out, feeling suffocated, so he just nods, and he hugs you back like his life depends on it. He's trembling, his breathing uneven and his heart beating loudly in his chest. "My first kill fucked me up so bad, just like the second one — look at me now, I don't even recognize myself anymore —"

Your heart hurts for him. Letting go of what's right and what's wrong, you just know that he did what he did because he's human. He suffered from loss, abuse and abandonment. He did not necessarily what he believed was right, but what he needed to do to take care of himself and those around him. And you can't blame him for that, because if you'd been in his shoes, you would've probably done the same.

"It's okay... I've got you."

But the guilt still weighs too heavily on his shoulders. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have... I'm sorry."

His head rests on your shoulder, in the crook of your neck, and you're both slowly calming down. You gently run your hands through his hair. "I know."

A tired sigh escapes his mouth. "Maybe I should've visited a therapist or two."

It makes you both chuckle lightly. Leave it to Leon to go from his childhood trauma to a joke. While you're moving your fingers across his scalp, he runs his hand up your arm, and the whole situation feels too domestic for two people that aren't even together.

You press a kiss to his cheek, and everything feels so intimate. Too intimate, almost. The way he opened up to you about himself, how you're holding each other, how he's touching you and you're touching him.

Only a few inches remain between you on the bed. He leans in a bit closer, his breath fanning your cheeks, at which yours hitches in your throat. He has the intention of finally getting what he's wanted from you for so long, the one thing he was so close to getting last night before Claire had to come in and ruin everything. And you know what he's insinuating, and it makes you a bit frightened.

Leon, being as perceptive as he is, notices your nerves. "What is it, Sweetheart?"

You scrape your throat. "Nothing."

"Doll."

Yeah, should've known that wasn't gonna fly. "It's... it's nothing, really."

"You know that I'd never pressure you into doing something you don't wanna do, right?"

"I know that, I do, I just... God, don't make me say it."

The man in front of you has never looked more confused. "You can tell me."

"I've never... done anything."

He slightly frowns before the realization dawns on his face. "Wha—that's it?"

"Well... yeah."

And the fucker has the audacity to laugh. Your mouth falls open, then quickly closing it before smacking his one good shoulder. "It's not funny!"

"Sweetheart — if that's what you're worried about, don't be."

"Yeah well, I am. All of my friends have already had boyfriends, or hookups, or whatever."

"So? You're acting as if nineteen is old. Some people have their firsts when they're fourteen, others when they're twenty-six. You shouldn't do something just because you feel like you have to cross it off your list. Nineteen isn't old. Hell, you could be in your twenties and I'd be saying the same thing. Nothing to be ashamed of, okay?"

"I know. Though I do appreciate hearing it from someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

Trying to find the right words, you pause for a second. "Someone who undoubtedly has a lot of experience."

"... is this your way of calling me a slut?"

"Well, yeah, kinda."

"I'm flattered." He laughs, and so do you, glad to feel the conversation become more lighthearted for a moment. "Out of curiosity, how many girls do you think I've had?"

"Um... I genuinely have no idea."

"Give it a shot."

"Ugh. I don't know... uh... like twenty? Thirty?"

"Thirty!? For real?"

"I don't know! I hear guys bragging about going to the bar every Saturday and fucking some random girl, so in my defense, that's not even that high!"

"Okay, let me just clear some things up, because the image you have of me in that department is completely wrong." He chuckles a little. "I was twenty when I had my first time. It wasn't with a stranger, but with my first girlfriend. I haven't had a girlfriend since, mostly because I haven't had the time with work and it didn't seem to fit into my life. The total count of girls I've had sex with is five. One girlfriend, a one-night-stand, three friends with benefits. That's all."

Feeling a little stupid now, you raise your shoulders. "Oh."

"Oh." He mocks you teasingly, a playful smile on his face when he pulls you into his lap, his long fingers digging into your plush thighs.

Yet you feel surprisingly comfortable with him, sitting like this. He makes you feel safe. "... I'm sorry for calling you a slut." You tell him sarcastically.

"Don't be. It's true."

His response makes both of you laugh. "Doll, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Is there anyone you'd want to lose it to? Or have you not met the right person yet?"

He asks you this with genuine curiosity and hope that maybe you'd want to lose it to him — because he wants to be your first. He knows he could treat you so right, if only you'd let him.

"I have met someone, but... I'm a little scared, I guess."

"Scared of what?"

"That it'll hurt. That he won't like my body. That I'll do badly... many things."

"If a guy refuses you because he's not pleased with your body, you gotta dump his ass in a ditch. You deserve better than that. And those other things — don't worry about that."

You nod with a sigh. "Yeah, yeah, I know."

A brief silence emerges between you, and he's discovered that you are genuinely clueless when it comes to understanding hints, so he pulls you a little closer to him, noses almost brushing. His voice becomes lower whenever he speaks in a hushed tone, and it turns you on. "I want you. Do you want me?"

"You know I do."

With that, he doesn't hesitate to smash his lips against yours, pulling you as close as possible in this position.

The kiss you share starts off modest, soft, even, but it quickly becomes rougher. Your breathing becomes more ragged, tongues touching, and the kiss becomes sloppier.

You let go of him for a second to breathe, seeing tongue darting out to lick his lips. You cup his cheek with one hand, the other still on his broad shoulder. "I know I've been naive before, but... I don't wanna get hurt."

It's one of if not your biggest insecurity. You're terrified of someone making you feel like you deserve the world and end up treating you like you were never even worth the energy in the first place. You've built up your trust in him again, but now that he's betrayed you before, it's still not completely restored.

"Whoever hurt you didn't know what they had. I'm not letting you go."

"So you wouldn't break my heart?"

"Never." He says before cheekily adding the rest. "At least not intentionally." It makes you smile faintly, and he moves to hold your face just like you're holding his. "I've already hurt you too much."

"Then you better make it up to me."

Oh, he's planning on it.

He kisses you again, holding one arm around your waist as he flips you over, having you underneath him now. The bulge in his sweatpants is becoming more apparent with every passing minute, and you get turned on from the sight of it. Not to mention his muscles flexing when he hovers above you.

Your hands instinctively move to his biceps when he kisses you. His lips trail from your mouth down your jaw and neck to your collarbone, and you let out the smallest whimper when you feel him sucking on your skin. Just hearing you make the tiniest noise gets him going already, and he needs you to do that again — he needs to hear you moan for him.

Gently pulling your tank top off, you're left in your black bra and sweatpants. He's shirtless, so it's only fair for you to be too, right?

His heart hurts when he thinks about how insecure you are of your body. He loves bodies, no matter the shape or size. All he knows is that he's so fucking attracted to you, he's close to losing his shit. So he's going to take his sweet time showing you that.

The kisses he leaves on your upper body shouldn't be making you this hot. His lips linger on your skin with each one, leaving wet spots that make you shiver. At one point, he begin to suck almost painfully on your bare skin, leaving a pretty red spot that will turn into a hickey soon — and he tells himself that's going to be the first of many.

He kisses your jaw, and you arch your back, giving him the perfect opportunity to undo the clasp of your bra easily. He's already sucking on your breast the moment you realize what he did, discovering that your nipples are hardening from the exposure to the cool air in the room.

The noises you make are mostly satisfied hums, and he looks up at you, seeing you biting your lip, and his eyes might as well roll back in his head right now because you look good like this. His dick twitches in his pants when he thinks about what your face will look like when you get fucked.

"Tell me what you like." He breathes out, because he wants to make tonight all about you.

You raise your shoulders a little. "Don't know."

The reply makes him furrow his brows. "You've touched yourself, right?"

You're less embarrassed when you see his genuinely curious and confused expression. "Well, yeah, but... I don't think I've ever gotten wet enough? I've never been able to get as much as a digit in."

The image of you trying to stuff your cunt with your fingers does things to him he can't explain, and it's getting harder to focus when he just wants to ravish you, but he promised himself that he'd be gentle for your first time. "So does that mean that you've never... you've never orgasmed?"

"I think so, yeah? I mean, I—I don't know."

"... you don't know?"

"No, I—I've felt... good before, but... I don't know if it was... it."

Oh, he's gonna make sure you'll get to that point. He cups your face, his silver ring touching your skin. "Sweetheart, that is a goddamn shame."

As much as you both enjoy him worshipping your body, the bulge of his erection is very present and you're getting needier. Knowing this new information, he wants to give you what you've undboubtedly wanted for a long time, long before you met him.

"Lift your hips."

You listen to him almost mindlessly, doing everything he says with no second thought. You trust him with your body, you'd probably be willing to give him anything he wanted, even giving yourself to him competely — which probably isn't healthy given the fact you've known him for less than a week, but you don't care.

He removes your sweatpants and panties, which leaves you completely bare before him. He knows staring at you will only make you uncomfortable, so he gets right back to business. Leon lies down on his stomach, pushing your legs up a little so he can get his mouth closer to your cunt.

Oh, fuck. He could cum in his pants right now, seeing your glistening pussy in front of him. "Pussy's all mine." He says under his breath, but it's loud enough for you to hear, only turning you on even more. Giving you a last glance from under his dark brows, he dives right in, pushing his fucking tongue inside you.

The sudden move makes you moan out in surprise. Your first reaction is to move your hands to his ash-blond locks, eyebrows scrunching up in pleasure. He's just so warm.

He licks long stripes up and down your wetness, pushes his tongue in again and sucks on your clit to the point his cheeks are hollowed. God, he's so good, so fucking good—

He breaks away only for a moment to kiss your thighs, your stomach, everything. "How's that feel, Princess?"

You let out a sigh of contentment. "Really good."

He's pussy-whipped already and he hasn't even been inside you yet. He doesn't tell you what his next move is, he enjoys seeing you just taking everything he's giving you.

So he buries his face in your pussy, making the filthiest noise, drinking and slurping your juices. God, he wants you to sit on his face so badly, but he'll keep that for next time.

You're so damn wet at this point that he easily slides his finger past your entrance. The intrusion feels a little strange, but not painful, unike how it is when you do it yourself. Not to mention his fingers are long, most certainly longer than yours, and it feels surprisingly good when he begins to slide them in and out of you.

You whimper from the unfamiliar feeling, but he uses the fingers on his other hand to rub circles on your clit. "Shit, Leon—"

It's the first time you're moaning his name and his cock throbs at the sound of it. His pace begins to get faster, and he pushes a second finger in way too easily. "Fuck, Doll, you're so wet, 'm gonna cum in my pants if you keep this up."

How can you not lose yourself in the way he moves and talks? Especially when you feel something rising in your lower stomach, something you can't describe. "Please don't stop, please. Feels so good, Leon."

God, he would normally tease you by taking his fingers out now, but you've deserved this, so he continues to plunge his fingers in and out of your pussy. The wet, squelching sounds drive you nuts. Overwhelmed by the new sensation, you can't help but slowly rut your hips up into his hand.

"That's right. Fuck yourself on my fingers, Princess, c'mon." He urges while you can't help but squirm underneath him, his digits moving so fucking fast suddenly that you can hardly keep up.

"I can't—oh—" You clench your fists, toes curling when you cry out, unconsciously grabbing his wrist while he fucks you through your first ever orgasm with his slender fingers.

His pace slows down little by little. "You're so good, baby." He tells you with a grin, pulling his fingers out of you. You see him putting them in his mouth, sucking on them like a damn lollipop, and you're at a loss for words.

So he can't help but speak up again. "Ready for your second one, Doll?"

He presses his finger to your clit once more before you can even reply, and you flinch immediately, because you're awfully sensitive from what just happened. A gasp leaves your mouth at the feeling, but he retracts his finger and gets off the bed for a second.

You move up just a little to look at him, leaning on your elbows, and he takes your breath away when he pushes his sweatpants down, making your pussy clench around nothing.

Fuck, does he look good. There's a thin layer of sweat on his forehead compared to you being a hot mess — but that's only natural after the heavenly finger-fucking and pussy-eating you just received — and his biceps flex with his movements. His abs seem more accentuated for some reason, the veins in his arms and hands much more visible now.

But none of that compares to the look on your face when he pushes his boxers down, his painfully hard cock on display for you. The tip is a little red and leaking some pre-cum — and God is he big. Fuck. You previously thought he was gonna be packing, but damn, even in this case he exceeded your expectations.

"I—I don't think you're gonna fit." You choke out more bluntly than planned.

"Don't worry. It'll be just as easy as my fingers, yeah?"

Yeah, no. That's a lie, which you're not aware of, but he noticed how tight you were, so he's gonna have to make you relax as much as possible, otherwise he's genuinely not gonna fit.

He moves back onto the mattress, touching your thighs. "Wait, Leon, your bullet wound. Are you sure you wanna do this?"

Oh. He's been so caught up in all this that he forgot it was even there. "I've wanted you since I met you. I'll manage." He winks, making you blush a little, but his gaze turns serious again. "You trust me?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. We'll take it slow. You tell me to stop and I'll stop, okay?"

Nodding at him causes him to return the gesture. He moves to grab a condom from the nighstand, which he so discreetly put there beforehand, but you stop him. "I've got an IUD. I wanna do it without one. If that's okay with you."

He didn't expect you to be on birth control, but it's a pleasant surprise. Sex is better without a condom anyways. "Okay."

Leon lifts your legs up, gently pushing them back so he can slide in without your legs closing in again. "You just make sure to keep your legs wide open, alright? Makes it easier."

You nod, and even though you're as wet as you are, it hurts more than expected. The tip prods at your entrance, but you tell yourself to keep your muscles loose.

You suddenly mewl in discomfort a little too loudly, and the walls in the motel are thin, so he instantly covers your mouth with his hand. "You want me to keep going?"

He asks the question before lifting his hand off your mouth. A tear runs down your cheek, even if you didn't mean to, and he wipes it away. "Yeah, just—just need you a little closer."

It's a request he's more than willing to fulfill. His chest is pressed against your tits now, which not only turns you on, it also gives you the opportunity to hold onto his back. He groans as he tries to get inside you a little further, and you roll your eyes. "Christ, how many more inches you got?"

It makes him let out a genuine laugh, and you can't help but smile a bit too. You're one of a kind, that's for sure. "Nearly there, pretty."

Trying to ease your discomfort while getting the last inch in, he locks his lips with yours, filling you to the brim. You both moan when he bottoms out nearly completely.

At first, you hiss in pain and pleasure, and you're trying to decide between pushing him away and pulling him closer. "Oh my God." You whine, thankful that he's so close to you.

"Fuck, tightest pussy I've ever had." He mentions as he slowly but steadily picks up the pace.

"In that case—ah!—you should fuck me more often."

"Yeah? Want me to fuck you again tomorrow?"

"Mhm." You hum with a lazy smile, face contorting the moment he pushes himself back inside your walls.

He reminds himself not to take you too hard, because contrary to what you believe, he doesn't want to take you roughly yet. That's for next time.

Casting your eyes down, your eyes linger on his back, and you see the muscles on his back moving with each thrust of his hips. You also see the curve of his ass, which convinces you the man on top of you is the closest thing to a live Greek God you'll ever see.

Leon fucks you harder, pulling on your hair just a little so he has better access to your neck, leaving more hickeys. Meanwhile you're a moaning, writhing mess underneath him. He fucks you so damn good to the point where you want to stay in this bed with him for the rest of your life.

His thrusts become slower, but they hit harder and deeper this time. It makes your moans more high-pitched, tits bouncing with his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

Oh, he's gonna make that ass cherry red next time.

Your nails leave marks on his back with the way he slams himself into you. "Leon—oh fuck, you're too big."

His thrusts only become harder and his ego gets bigger. "You can take it. Such a good little girl. My favorite girl."

"You t—too."

"Yeah? Am I your favorite too?"

"Yeah, you are."

He slightly gasps for air at your answer.

Sex with feelings is something he hasn't had in a long time, but the connection he shares with you feels like something that happens once in a lifetime. God, damn you, his fucking everything.

He's gonna fuck you again and again and again if that's what it takes for you to see he's the one for you. Pretty girl, his pretty girl.

He can feel you clenching down on him, which is the perfect moment to start rubbing your clit. Lowering his head, he sucks on your breast, mouth latching onto your nipple. With him stimulating you in different places on your body, you feel your second climax approaching.

Grunting, he kisses and licks all the way back up your chest and neck until he reaches your lips again, kissing you like a starved man. "Cum for me again, gorgeous. Cream on my dick, baby, c'mon. Need you to, please."

Leon Kennedy doesn't beg — but he's willing to make an exception for his girl.

Yeah, he's got you in the palm of his hand, whether you've forgiven him or not. You're his.

And it's the feeling of his long fingers digging into the skin right above your hips that makes you reach that peak of bliss for the second time tonight.

You're clenching around him violently, squeezing his cock so tight that he clenches his jaw, hissing at the feeling. He feels your juices coating his dick, eliciting a guttural groan from him when he stuffs you full of his cum, a sound that should not be as sexy as it is.

With you utterly fucked out underneath him, he lifts you up from the bed while still being inside you. "You want me to draw you a bath?"

"Nah. I'm sleepy now." You tell him, impressed that he's still holding you as if you're as light as a feather. "Fuck, I know we showered before this, but now 'm all sweaty. I bet I smell."

"You smell like sex. It's hot."

He's being so blunt that it makes you giggle. "So, quick shower, then?"

"Sure. I'll wash you."

"Yeah, and you're probably gonna have to hold onto me too. I can't feel my legs."

"Y'know, I went easy on you."

"This was easy!?"

The comment makes him snort. "Softest sex I've ever had. It was nice, though."

After a sigh rolls past your lips, your voice turns quieter. "Did I do good?"

"You did amazing, Doll. Really."

Yeah, you're so damn in love with him. And he would give up everything he has for you.

Little do you know that the love you share will turn into a deadly one soon.

Notes:

this was my first time ever writing nsfw content so i hope it lived up to your expectations ! anyways rougher sex next chapter bc we love the best of both worlds in this house 3

Chapter 20: Fleeting Joy

Summary:

You and Leon travel to Europe with the hope you'll be safe there.

Notes:

nsfw warnings: bondage, oral sex (f+m receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, choking, light degradation, sadism if you squint, facefucking, brat taming, manhandling, leon's a lil mean and so fucking hot i wanna throw myself off a bridge, just complete filth with some plot i'm so sorry

here sexies check out the playlist i made for the story n enjoy playlist/2th4YVxAcWutbRmlFeFhtR?si=0Z7IhQV9SYu9XUY5RD9E8A

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Leon awakes in the middle of the night, a thin layer of sweat covering his naked body. He despises waking up abruptly.

It's not often he can remember his dreams. His nightmares tend to stick with him, though. They've only gotten worse throughout the years.

It always involves his loved ones. His mother, his sister. Friends he still cares about but barely talks to anymore. It's a lonely life to live, doing what he does. But he doesn't think he'll ever live a normal life again. He hasn't for a long time.

It was fun when it started. Back when he didn't have to kill, when things were simpler. He used to be cocky about it all, given the fact that he was the youngest recruit, yet at the top of the order. He worked alone instead of on a squad because he's always been that good.

He never thought the trauma and the guilt would be this bad. It's gotten easier for him, sure, but it's like he can feel his humanity fading with every bullet he puts between someone's eyes. You just have to shut it out with a job like this one.

No one really wants an easy life. Not even him. Craving a life like that causes the most pain.

But he doesn't want to live like this anymore.

He turns his head to look at you. You're still sound asleep, snoring softly, hair slightly disheveled from turning around, hands holding onto the pillow underneath your head.

He's still eyeing your sleeping figure when something switches in his head. It's a rare moment of complete silence in his strangely hectic life, and when he looks at you, he can't help the sudden overflow of emotions in him.

It's truly laughable. The way he tries to stop it all from coming by squeezing his eyes shut and running a hand through his hair.

What would his mother have thought if she knew what he's turned into? The utter monster he's become. Working for an organization as vicious as Umbrella for the goddamn money. Sacrificing the world if it means saving the few loved ones he has left. It's selfish. Selfish and beyond cruel, and he hates himself for it.

What would Sarah think of him? If she knew all the details? She'd hate him, he's sure of it. Just like his mother would. Just like his father does. Just like you do.

He knows that you trust him again now that he's opened up about his past, but you still hate him for what he did and who he is. He sees it in everything that you do and say.

A single tear runs down his cheek silently. It's the first time he's cried in a long time. He was on the verge of crying just hours ago, when you held him, but he's finally there now. The lump in his throat is beyond painful, and he tries to swallow it, but he can't. If anything, the aching only increases.

He needs you so badly. He needs you to love him, he needs it and he feels like he'll suffocate if you don't. Love me, love me, love me. Please.

Tell me you love me. Even if it's just once. Tell me you love me.

He wants to hear you say it more than anything in the world. He wants you to look at him with that same dreamy expression back when he first kissed you just a week ago.

In all honesty, he feels like he's losing his goddamn mind. He hates himself for treating you the way he did. Why did he have to fuck up like this?

You are... something heaven like to him. How sweet and caring you are, the loving heart you have, comforting him when you hated him at the same time. Something about you oozes softness and elegance as well as something much darker, much more powerful than what meets the eye. It intrigues him.

He pictures you leaving him behind. He doesn't want—he cannot let you go. Everyone always leaves. He doesn't want you to leave him.

You're allowed to go your own way if that's what you want. He would never try to force you to stay with him. Never. But he's glad that you've decided to stick with him.

He's aware of his major attachment to you. It's probably unhealthy, but... he just hopes it's not unrequited.

You turn around in your sleep, moving to lay on your other side, back facing him, and it gives him a minor heart attack. He glances at the clock on the nightstand and realizes he's been looking at your sleeping form for a solid ten minutes, his mind drifting off due to his tiredness.

So when he returns to bed, he gently snakes his arms around your waist, spooning you.

Tell me you love me.

His heart is beating like crazy, and for some reason, he feels nervous and anxious, his hands trembling. It only slightly falters when he's finally put his arms around you. He's so unbelievably exhausted from everything that's happening around him and inside his head, so he unconsciously says things without realizing he does.

"Goodnight, pretty girl." He sighs softly, pretty much asleep already, not knowing that you've just woken up from him pulling your body against his.

Once you feel the wetness of his tears on your shoulder as well as his unsteady breathing, shock is painted across your face.

He's crying? Why?

"Are you okay?" You ask him, your voice raw and scratchy from the few hours of sleep.

He sighs, holding you just a little tighter. "No. But it's fine. I'll manage."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Too tired. Just let me hold you, 'kay?"

You blink a few times, but you're too tired to process what he said. "Goodnight, Leon."

Pulling him closer, you fall asleep, the two of you holding one another.

Neither of you are able to label whatever's going on between you. You're not friends. You're not lovers.

Just... two vastly different people with an odd connection.

Weirdly enough, your sleep is peaceful and uninterrupted, so when you wake up to an empty bed the next morning, you're a bit disoriented.

Images of the events of last night suddenly flash before your eyes, and they certainly make sure you're awake. The way you two bickered, him opening up to you, then proceeding to pop your damn cherry—

Shit, did that seriously happen?

Lifting up the white sheets covering you, you see you're awfully naked.

"Oh, fuck me—"

"What, again already? I mean, I'm down."

Jesus, you didn't even him hear him enter the room. "I'm pretty sure I won't be able to move today if you do that."

"Fair point." He says, and you notice the two plastic bags he's carrying.

"What's in there?"

"This one, breakfast. Eat." He says, handing you the bag so you can see what's inside. "This one, your new passport."

Furrowing your brows, you open it up. It has a completely different name on it. The photo is the one that's on your actual passport, and you have no idea how he even got his hands on it, but this one is altered to make you look slightly different. Different hair color, eye makeup, a tiny birthmark above your lip which certainly makes your face look like... well, someone who isn't you. That's for sure.

"How did you even get this?"

"Went out to meet up with an old contact of mine. He's good at this kind of stuff."

Yeah, you both know he's not gonna tell you more than that.

"Do you really think this'll work?"

He grabs a bite of the toast you're now holding. "Here's the thing — airports have a strict security system, they stay well in contact with the authorities. Once the passport of a wanted individual comes through, they're alerted immediately. My fake passports are probably good to go, but it's a bigger risk with you, because I'm pretty sure either friends or family of yours have contacted the police, considering you're missing. Let's just hope they won't catch onto us."

"What'll happen if they do?"

"We'll be taken into custody by airport security, probably. That's not even the problem, I can get us out of a space like that easily. The problem would be us not being able to get on the plane, and we need to get off U.S. soil as soon as possible."

Frowning, you think his words over as you eat. "But we can still get caught in a foreign country."

"Yeah, but their authority is heavily restricted compared to how it is here. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd send an asset to get rid of us once they find out we've fled to Europe."

"An asset?"

"Assassin. Mercenary. Hitman. Whatever you wanna call it."

He's acting so calm about all of this. How is he not freaking out right now? "Is this like, normal to you?"

"What, having people after me? Yeah. The FBI is still looking for me regarding the death of two men in Monaco. Well, not me, my alias." He raises his brows to himself, not really showing any sign of worry. "I wouldn't call it easy, but... I've been looking over my shoulder for a long time, long before I was trained to do so. You've got a sharp eye. It's all too recent now, once it's been a while, things will get better."

You nod hesitantly, your head hanging, eyebrows knitted together. "Yeah, you're probably right."

Leon recognizes your worry in your facial expression and body language, so he sits down next to your legs, prompting you to scoot over a little. "If you wanna turn back, that's alright. I'll take you home to your parents if that's what you want."

"But then I'll get caught."

"Most likely. The point I'm trying to make here is that you don't have to do this if you don't want to. If you do choose to come with me, though, there's no going back."

You both know that it's dangerous either way. The only shot at survival you have is going with him. You know he's right — going back home will get you arrested immediately.

Arrested. For being a damn witness.

It all seems like one big joke.

"I'll come with you." You tell him after letting out a sigh, deciding to put your feelings to the side for now. "As long as you promise to stick with me."

He tilts his head. "Promise."

Even if he says so, you can't help but extend your pinky to him, after which he chuckles and sticks out his own, intertwining them.

As simple as the gesture is, he gave you his word, which means that if he breaks this promise... you'll never trust him again.

Never.

He ushers for you to finish your breakfast, after which you both pack your things, leave the motel and jump in the car.

As you're driving to the airport, you huff, feet on the dash, Leon behind the steering wheel. "God, how much longer?"

"An hour and a half."

"Jesus." You huff, taking a sip of your water bottle. "Now that I'm thinking about it... you still haven't told me why you wanna go to Zurich."

He taps with his finger on the wheel, his other hand resting on his thigh. "I did. I have a safehouse there."

"Yeah, but there's clearly more to it. Something you didn't wanna tell Claire."

"It's, uh... it's the home my mother grew up in. It's a small one, but... feels like my one safe haven. It always felt more like home to me than the one in the U.S. for some reason."

The thing is, he just didn't want Claire to know about the sentimental value of the home. She doesn't need to know anything about his background or his upbringing.

But you're not Claire.

"You been there often?"

"Only a few times, back when my father's business was still up and running and doing well. Flights to another continent are pretty expensive, after all."

Nodding at the reply, you process the things he said. "Y'know, Leon, I didn't mention this last night, but... I think you don't give yourself enough credit for handling things the way you did when you were younger. Just wanted to tell you that."

You're fiddling with your fingers, only turning to look at him when he looks at you, and your words hit him more than expected. He can't remember the last time someone gave him a compliment that wasn't about his looks or ability to kill, and he's a simple man, in some ways — so he can't help the smile appearing on his face.

Rather than moving his hand to rest on your thigh, he grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers. "Thanks, Doll."

"You're welcome."

"Hey, I just realized that you now know all about me, but I don't know anything about you. Not really."

"You know I'm nineteen and chasing a degree."

"Yeah, but still. Tell me more."

"Well, I'm..." you pause, trying to think of what to say. "I have an older sister and a younger brother. My parents had a nasty divorce too, had a rocky relation with Mom but we managed. I'm not in contact with Dad anymore, so I guess you're not the only one with daddy issues."

"Ah, I finally get it now."

"What?"

"That's why you're into older men." He chuckles, and you consider hitting him, but decide not to. You scoff instead.

"Real funny coming from the guy with a mommy kink."

"Are you kink-shaming me?"

"I'd never."

"I know you wouldn't. Bet you fantasize more than you're willing to admit."

For a second, you've lost your words — simply because you don't know how to respond to that — and he chuckles. Leon pegged you for it right out the gate. He thinks it's cute when you try to hide the blush on your cheeks.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"You're so predictable sometimes." He comments playfully, squeezing your hand, and you continue talking until you reach the airport.

It's awfully crowded there. Lots of people. It's the first time you've seen this amount of people gathered in one place since... well, Raccoon.

Airports consist of people expressing every single emotion known to man. It's a weird place.

Kids are happy and excited about their trips. For some it's their first time flying. Some people are tired and irritable, having gotten up early, others are angry because their flight's delayed.

You on the other hand are mostly anxious, because you have no idea whether you'll even make it to the gate.

The two of you agree that Leon will buy the tickets while you wait in a seat that — according to him — is just out of view of the security camera above. You try not to look as worried as you are. You feel paranoid. Every time someone even as much as looks your way, you think they somehow know what you're going to do is illegal.

Once your eyes lay on something red in the window of one of the stores, though, you're convinced you've got enough time to purchase it and get back to your spot before Leon returns.

And, as always, you were right.

When he comes back, you're beyond relieved. "We kinda need to adjust the plan." He sits down next to you, holding your ticket in front of you for you to take.

"Amsterdam? I thought we were going to Zurich."

"Yeah. Problem is that the first two flights to Zurich are cancelled due to bad weather conditions, and we can't afford to wait that long."

As your eyes scan the ticket a bit more, you realize something. "We're flying first class?"

"Obviously. I've got the money for it and it's a long-ass flight, so why not?"

"Dope."

"This is the part where you say 'thank you, Leon'."

"Thank you, Leon, for making me a criminal."

"You're insufferable, Doll."

"Sure, that must be why you're keeping me around, huh?"

The crippling anxiety you felt waiting for Leon to purchase the tickets was apparently nothing compared to going through the airport security.

Now at the immigration officers booth, Leon hands over his Dutch passport.

The officer checks the passport and looks up to Leon, who stares back at him blankly. "Where you coming from, Mr. Van Der Linde?"

"Arizona."

After receiving the curt reply, the officer runs the code on the passport through the scanner. Leon would be lying if his heart didn't skip a beat, afraid that an incessant beeping of a computer alarm will ring through his ears soon.

Nothing happens.

The officer wishes him a good flight, after which it's your turn. Instead of asking you where you're coming from, he asks you about the reason you're visiting Amsterdam, hopefully only for the sake of variety.

"Gonna visit the city with my boyfriend." You lie through your teeth, glancing at Leon for a second.

Through your paranoia, it really doesn't hit you that the man in the booth doesn't give a shit. He runs the code on the passport just like he did with Leon's. You can't help but clench your fists when the check on yours takes longer.

You look at Leon worriedly when the man briefly raises his brows because something doesn't seem to work, and you're convinced this is the moment you'll be escorted out by security.

"Alright, have a good flight."

Now that you're through security, you can finally breathe properly again. Leon walks with you to the terminal. "I was genuinely worried something was wrong there."

"God, I have never been that scared in my whole life. What a nightmare." You breathe out, rubbing your face.

"Security is the worst. We made it through though. Everything should be fine for now."

And with those words in mind, you arrange the rest, taking the flight to Europe with no other issues. Many hours later, you arrive at Schiphol Airport safely. The sun is setting. You've slept throughout the majority of the flight, which definitely eases the jetlag a lot. You feel pretty energized. Leon finds it difficult to sleep on planes. He dozed off a couple times, but he can work surprisingly well with little sleep.

You take a cab to a hotel of which you didn't capture the name, but once you're standing in front of it, it looks... expensive. A huge upgrade compared to what you've stayed in before this. "Leon, I thought we were supposed to lay low. In like, cheap hotel rooms."

"Normally, yeah. They know me though."

He takes you inside, and an older lady at the reception desk greets him in Dutch, after which he responds to her with a smile — a genuine one — handing her a few hundred dollar bills. "Wie is de knappe dame die je hebt meegebracht?"

"M'n vriendin." He responds, and you're struggling to understand what the hell they're saying to each other.

She says something else to him, probably wishing him a good stay, and you only nod at her with an awkward smile. Once you're walking up the stairs, you touch his arm. "What did you guys talk about?"

"She asked who you were. She said you were pretty."

"She said I was pretty?" You ask, beaming instantly. "That's so sweet."

He thinks it's adorable to see you like this, arriving at your room just when you're about to ask what the number is.

It's spacious, with a king-sized bed in the middle, a luxurious bathroom and a view of the river. You can see the exclusive river boats outside the hotel from the window, the lights decorating the city in the dark.

It's undoubtedly the nicest hotel room you've ever stayed in, and for just a moment, you can really forget all the shit you've gone through and enjoy the night.

You both take a long shower, knowing the hot water won't run out for once, and it's nice to feel properly cleaned up again, especially after the long flight you had.

"So. What's the plan for tomorrow?" You ask him, taking a sip of your water, leaning against the doorpost of the bathroom door.

He's seated at the other end, his back against the headboard, arms leaning on his knees. "I've got a stash in a locker at the central station. Security is a bit too tight in the country here, so we'd be wise to get back on the road after that."

"A stash in a locker? What does that mean?"

"Guns."

"Hm." You hum. You're not really focusing on his words anymore, instead ogling his chest and arms just because you think he's not looking, but you couldn't be more wrong.

"Didn't your daddy tell you it's rude to stare?"

You scoff. "Jesus, are you psychic or something?"

"No, you're just painfully unsubtle."

"Gee, thanks."

You move to sit at the edge of the bed, pretending to read the back of the newspaper he's got in his hand, knowing you don't even speak the language.

The question you've been dying to ask burns at the tip of your tongue, but you push yourself to say it anyways.

"Hey, Leon?"

"Yeah?"

"I, um... I wanna know what you like."

His brain processes the information slower than usual. "What I like?"

"Yeah, you know... what you're into. What gets your schlong up."

He snorts at your choice of words. "How can you say shit like that and simultaneously not be able to get the word 'sex' out of your throat if your life depended on it?"

"It's a gift."

You truly are something. "I'm sure it is." He snickers before answering your question. "I like it rough. I'm not used to vanilla, but what we did last night was... good. Really good. It's never felt that intimate to me before."

Oh. That makes your heart flutter.

Turning your head away because of the heat rising to your cheeks, he grins a little. Cocky bastard. "Hey, don't get all shy on me now, Sweetheart."

"Dude, you can't just say stuff like that and expect me not to."

"Well, you didn't get shy when I told you what a good girl you were last night." He smirks, playfully moving his hands up the curves of your ass.

"Stop making this about me." You say with your cheeks hurting from embarrassment, trying to regain a cool attitude. "Last night was all about me. Tonight should be about you."

He's baffled by your sudden confidence, and you just look so unbothered — as if you don't give a damn whether he'll say yes or no. "Is this because I said I went easy on you last night?"

"Well... partially. I also just wanna know what you're into."

So now you wanna prove to him that you're a big girl. "Cute." He hums, his gaze becoming more stern. "Fat chance it'll be too much for you, though. You've only had sex once."

"I don't care. I want it." You tell him with determination as you lean forward on all fours, positioning yourself in between his legs. "You can do whatever you want with me."

And you almost question whether it was smart to say that, judging by the way his eyes darken instantly.

Unless you want to have your insides rearranged, that's a real dangerous thing to say to him. Not to mention you've said something around these lines several times before, and the words went straight to his dick each time. Here you are, offering yourself to him completely, leaning closer to him. Which you're absolutely doing on purpose. Both of you know that much. "Think you can handle it? 'Cause I won't stop, even if you cry."

It doesn't scare you, on the contrary — it excites you, a certain feeling building in your gut. "Good. I don't want you to."

He didn't know you could be this seductive. Jesus. He fucked you once, and look at you now. But that's not necessarily what does it for him.

What does it for him is when he glances at your cleavage now on display for him, seeing a hint of the red, lacy bra underneath, and he knows you must've bought that today, because it wasn't in your bag before. "Have you been planning this all day?"

You nod shyly but eagerly. "Maybe."

"Then you better show me what's underneath those clothes." His voice is close to a mere whisper, but you do what he says regardless.

He removes his suit vest, slower than usual, only because he's focused on you removing your shirt and pants. It's hard to maintain his composure once you're only left in your lingerie, being so close to losing his damn marbles. He may look calm on the outside, but his head is spinning when he sees the dark red push-up bra accentuating the curve of your tits, the thong that draws his attention to your hips and the thigh-high socks that make him dizzy. If you ever wear a skirt with those, he's bending you over the first flat surface he sees. Fuck.

If anything, the look on his face is colder than before. He gets off the bed, tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek, forcing himself not to show the rising grin on his face. Do you even know how criminally good you look?

It'd be a shame to rip it off already, as much as he wants to. He's gonna drag it out for as long as he wants. Once he's standing in front of you, lips nearly touching, you see he's moving his hands, an awfully familiar sound ringing through your ears.

"Turn around. Lift your arms a little." While he may have warned you, you still don't exactly know what he's planning on doing to you. That is, until he touches your skin. "This feeling should be familiar to you, Princess."

Oh, that motherfucker.

The chuckle he lets out when tying your arms together behind your back is dark and arousing. Your wrists are tied with his fucking belt again, just like they were in the lab, after he caught you.

He puts his left hand to keep you in place, his right hand moving to grab a hold of your jaw, turning your head to the side. This way he can kiss you while standing behind you, and you audibly sigh into the feeling of his lips on yours.

If this is how all guys kiss, you have seriously been missing out all these years.

The kiss turns sloppy when he begins to move his left hand from the belt to your hip, gripping it tightly.

His cock grows hard in his pants with the little sounds you make, you seem so eager, so excited — it's driving him nuts.

You can feel his hard-on pressing against the swell of your ass, your brain clouded by lust as you press down harder against him.

Oh, he cannot handle that much longer.

He spins you around this time so you're facing him again. "C'mere. Down on your knees, c'mon." The words are almost soft, with the way he says it, but you know you better not make the mistake of disobeying him here. That much you can tell.

Sinking to your knees, it doesn't take a genius to understand what he wants you to do, but it's still something you've never done before. His gaze follows your every move. He unbuttons his pants but keeps them on, pulling the zipper down, after which his boxers quickly follow.

Fuck. His dick looks even bigger than it already is up close, the sheer size, visible veins and pre-cum making your mouth water.

He loves the innocent twinkle in your eye. You've only been touched once before, by him of all people, and as good as that was, he had to hold back because it was your first time — so now it's time to fuck you properly.

He makes you remain like this for a moment. It's almost humiliating, yet as eager as you are to please, you do it for him anyway.

"Leon?" You call out quietly.

"Yeah, Sweetheart?"

"A—are you gonna do anything?" He sees how shy and nervous you get, and he doesn't want you to do it just because you feel like you have to. He's commanding in bed, sure, but he won't force you into doing anything.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yeah, just... let me know if you like what I'm doing, okay? I don't wanna embarrass myself. I've never done this before."

He chuckles at your nervousness. Sweet girl. Goddamn, his dick gets hard just from the fact that you're having so many of your firsts with him. Your innocence is crumbling down with each passing second you're spending with him, and he relishes in it.

Okay, so, maybe, just maybe he has a corruption kink. Maybe.

"Then you better start improvising, baby."

Aching to touch him with your hands, you're reminded that they're wrapped behind your back, so you stick your tongue out, getting your mouth on his tip for the first time. You're not realizing how this feels like teasing to him, so you're surprised when he just pushes himself into your mouth in a single second.

Your reflex makes you move your head back, but he holds you in place. "Relax. Breathe through your nose."

He then proceeds to let go of your hair and you release him from your lips, coughing a little. "You could've given a little warning."

"I could've. But where's the fun in that?"

You roll your eyes at his reply. Determined to show him you can manage to suck his dick perfectly fine without his help, you make yourself forget about the tension in your muscles and take him back in.

A low, dragged-out groan leaves his mouth when he feels the warm sensation of your tongue on him. God, he feels like a fucking virgin again, with the way his heart lurches at the faintest contact.

He's heavy in your mouth, thick and warm — your unsure and hesitant movements turn more steady and confident. Your jaw already begins to strain in the slighest, and you accidentally whine out when you realize how you're dripping wet but unable to touch yourself.

Now that you can't use your hands, you can't wipe away the spit around your lips and on your chin — but fuck, the sight of your saliva and his pre-cum dripping from your lips onto your chest makes his eyes roll back. The sounds he makes, the choked-out groans and guttural moans arouse you so much that you're moaning around him.

You slowly make your way down his cock, taking more and more of him every couple of seconds. With the way your eyes are burning, you know the tears are gonna come soon, his tip hitting the back of your throat.

"Goddamn, just like that. You're so good, so fucking good—" He moans, grabbing a hold of your hair.

Throwing his head back for a second, his eyes closed, he can't handle it anymore. He's ridiculously close to his release already. His bottom lip is going to bleed soon if he keeps biting it like this, but he knows the moment he's gonna look at your face again, he's gonna hit that peak.

Yet he can't help himself, so he casts his eyes downwards, greeted by the sight of your innocent eyes looking up at him, strings of saliva attached to your lips. "Wanna fit more. Can you help me?"

God, he wasn't necessarily planning on fucking your mouth, but now you're just practically asking for it.

He grabs the back of your head and begins to thrust into your mouth. The sudden move makes you gag, and it doesn't take long before a few tears escape your eyes. He relishes in the sounds you make, the gagging and the whines with the movement of his hips.

Wondering whether he should push himself in even deeper, he glances at your face. You look up at him with furrowed brows and eyes blinking away tears — and so he inches himself in to the point you contract around his tip.

Pressing your nails into the palm of your hand, you swallow around him, and he winces. "Tight fucking throat—Jesus Christ—"

You feel so good being useful, so good to see him fall apart in front of you just from what you're doing to him. The nerves you previously had are all gone, replaced by lust and greed.

Once more tears roll down your cheeks, he pulls out and cups your face with one hand. "You okay?" He's worried he may have gone a little too far with how rough he's being.

"Mhm. Want more, put it back."

As if he wasn't turned on enough already, you go around saying shit like that.

"It might hurt."

"Just use me how you want. I don't care. Put it back."

A lazy smirk spreads across his face. You're so sweet, so shy, yet so filthy. It's always the fucking innocent ones. "Here I thought I was the nasty one."

Before you can even attempt to respond, he's shoved his dick back into your mouth, right where you both want it to be.

Your fresh tears roll past the ones that are dried up, your cunt clenches around nothing, and his legs are beginning to tremble just the smallest bit. God, you're convinced that hearing Leon Kennedy moan is the best thing you'll ever get to experience in your damn life.

He looks directly into your eyes when he hits his climax, cursing under his breath like it's a mantra, grabbing your hair so hard that it hurts, but it all just fades into pleasure for you. The warm and slick release slides right down your throat, and you swallow — but it's definitely not as tasty as you hoped.

You release him with a pop, briefly sticking your tongue out at the bitterness, grimacing at the bad taste. The sounds pull Leon out of his high, and he looks at you, pulling you up to your feet. "Princess, you didn't have to swallow. Not what you thought it would be, huh?"

A giggle escapes you. "No offense, but I really hope I taste better down there than this."

He laughs a little. Yeah, he likes that about his dynamic with you. No matter how rough you get in bed, you can still make the other crack out genuine laughs and smiles. It's cute.

Seeing the slick pooling between your legs, he uses two fingers to push your panties to the side to check how much of a mess you've made, and he has to fight the urge to drool at the sight. "I'll tell you after I'm done."

Processing his words, he yanks the thong off, lifts you up and puts you down on the bed, purposely putting you on your front instead of your back. His hands touch the curve of your ass when he gets behind you on his knees, your pussy glistening in front of him. You feel awfully exposed like this, with your face down and ass up, but this is just the way he likes it.

He grabs a hold of your thighs and begins to absolutely go to town on you, digging his fingers into the fat of your flesh and pushing his tongue inside of you. Your fingers and wrists move as much as they can in the restrains you're still wearing, and you're aching to grab something, anything, whether it's the headboard or the sheets.

As he's greedily slurping your pussy from behind, you can't stop moaning, and his dick is hard again just like that. He eats you out like a starved man, as if he hasn't touched you like this last night, and you can feel the mixture of your arousal and his saliva dripping onto the sheets.

And you're pretty sure you're seeing stars when he pushes his fingers inside you, curling them and pumping them in and out.

"God, Leon, fuck—right there, touch me right there—"

"Right here?"

You only hum in response, which comes out more like a whimper, because you're having trouble thinking straight when he's touching you like this.

He's so good, so fucking good that it should be a crime.

"I'm so close—"

"No." He suddenly says, stilling his movements for a moment. "Don't. You can cum when I say so, got it?"

He's got a habit of going at it so hard that you can't get a single damn word out. He's so fucking mean for this, moving quicker, long and slender fingers hitting just the right spot. You wanna be a good girl for him so badly, it's all you want, all you're trying to do.

But you can't hold back any longer. Your whole body trembles when you let out a long, broken moan, toes curling and fingers gripping the leather material on your wrists.

It takes you a few seconds to pull yourself out of that post-orgasmic bliss. "I couldn't... 'm sorry Leon—"

He yanks you back up on your knees by grabbing your throat, pushing your back flush against his chest, his mouth hovering by your ear. "You fucking will be."

Leon knows exactly what he's doing when he flips you onto your back, using your wetness to his advantage, not even attempting to start out slow when he pushes his fingers inside you.

You can't help but whine at the unexpected feeling, your legs spasming with the way he fucks you with his fingers. He's going too fast, you're too wet, it all feels like it's too much. You're still sensitive from your orgasm just a minute before, but he's ruthless.

Once his fingers curl up, hitting just that right spot that makes your vision blurry and your eyes roll back. Your body moves with the motion of his hand, and your body squirms in his hold, yet he puts his palm onto your throat to keep you right where you are.

"Leon—" you cry out, that now familiar feeling of climax beginning to build up in the pit of your stomach. "I can't—can't hold it, you know I can't—"

It's cute, how easily he's figured your body out already.

He abruptly pulls his fingers out of your cunt, manhandling you so you're sitting on your knees on the bed again.

He skillfully removes the bra previously covering your tits, throwing it away, then moving on to the belt on your wrists.

And you're glad when he finally frees them, a sigh of relief leaving you, but the feeling washes away as soon as it came to you when the piece of leather returns to your vision.

"Around your neck, right around your neck, there you go."

He puts it around your throat, not too tight, but it's very much there. The leather feels a bit uncomfortable on your skin, but nothing you can't handle. Pushing your body forward once more, he presses his hand on your back so you'll automatically put your ass up higher.

"You little brat." He chuckles. "I give you one command, just one, and you can't even listen to me?"

You yelp when he suddenly shoves himself inside. While he stretched you out enough, he's still awfully big, so the sudden intrusion paired with the high pace he fucks you with right off the bat has you gasping for air.

"Le—Leon, you're going too—too fast!"

It's ridiculous, the way your voice is high-pitched, crying out for him to slow down, when you know he won't even bother listening.

Because your words just spur him on to go harder. Seeing you crying out for him, breathing heavily, a few tears tolling down your cheeks when you beg him to have even the slightest bit of mercy — he does the exact opposite.

Smacking your ass, the sound echoes through the room, and you jump a little in surprise. It definitely stings, but it feels oddly good.

Back arched, ass up, face down. That's how Leon loves taking pussy. It's so gratifying — the way your inexperienced walls clench down on his dick. He shuts his eyes in bliss just to calm himself. He's restraining himself to not destroy you all the way just yet, because he knows he's going to lose every bit of self-control he's got left when he does.

He's ramming into you so deep that you're seeing stars again. He's fucking you dumb, which you didn't even think was possible. Your head is spinning, barely even able to comprehend his sentences. "Fuck, it hurts—" It hurts in a good way, but you keep that information to yourself. Not that he doesn't know it.

"Does it?" He mocks with fake concern, gripping your hips tighter, pushing them back against his each time he thrusts into you. "I thought you wanted this."

The smirk is audible in his voice when he speaks condescendingly, which probably shouldn't turn you on as much as it does.

"God, fuck—"

"Am I too much for you, pretty? Sure you can take my cock? Should I stop?" It's obvious that he's teasing you, spanking you again, and your reflex causes you to clench around him.

"Don't you dare stop." You hiss back at him, even if you are pretty sure your body's already gone numb from how hard he's fucking you.

"You act like you're so fucking innocent." He laughs, using the belt to put a little pressure on your neck. "Showing up in lingerie like that, pushing your tits out for me, disobeying me. You deserve to get fucked just like the nasty little girl you are."

His tongue lolls out of his mouth while he bends forward, licking from your spine to your jaw without ever stopping the rhythm of his hips, leaving a wet and warm trail on your burning skin.

You're caught off guard when he grabs at your throat with his hand, cupping your jaw. "Who do you owe this to? Who made your pussy this wet?"

"You, fuck—owe it all to you." You're nearly sobbing at how good he feels obliterating your insides. You can sense the pride he's exuding right now without even looking at him.

His hand remains on your throat, but he stills his movements for a second. "That's right, you owe it to me." A single, excruciatingly hard thrust follows. "But I don't think you're appreciating me the way you should be."

He brings his hips back just to plunge back inside again, and you have no damn idea how he manages to set a pace even more brutal than the previous. His cock throbs and pulses inside of you, you can feel your heartbeat in your fucking pussy at this point.

"I can't—ah!—I can't take—can't take it anymore."

With your words, he slows his pace to something much more sensual, different from the raw passion you felt in the rough thrusts from before. You lift your hips instinctively so he can hit all the right spots inside you.

He leans forward again, his low and hoarse voice close to your ear when he stops moving completely. "You are not going to ruin this for me, Doll." He states while you're trying to catch your breath, whimpering now that he's fully sheathed inside of you and not moving at all. "I'm going to go faster."

He takes what he wants, but in spite of that, he wants to wait for your approval.

"Okay."

And there's nothing that prepares you for the way he fucks you when he does.

The way his hips snap against yours, his heavy balls hitting your ass, the words leaving his mouth, it's all downright sinful. It's not loving, not careful, nothing holy about it. He fucks you like he hates you and you live for it.

"You're so—oh my God—you fuck me so good."

"Goddamn right I do, so you better start crying out my fucking name." He responds, his ego only getting bigger with the way you're falling apart underneath him into a crying, moaning mess. You whimper out his name, but he's a greedy man. "I can't hear you."

Moaning out his name, your eyebrows scrunch together. He's fucking you so hard that you're hiccupping and crying underneath him, barely even able to breathe. He slaps his palm against your asscheeks again and again, loving the way your skin turns red, the shape of his hand imprinted on your skin.

"Wanna cum inside of you."

"I want you to, want you to—" A broken moan comes between your words. "Please stuff me full, want it so bad."

"Yeah? Gonna take every last drop for me?"

"Mhm, yeah—please—please cum in me."

God, you're so fucking hot, so fucking precious. He'd keep you in his bed for the rest of his life if he could. Just sitting all pretty for him, getting pounded every day like you want, just like you deserve.

He's become surprisingly vocal at this point. It's all so overwhelming, the mixture of the two of you moaning, the wetness between your legs, him ruthlessly shoving his cock into you until you're filled to the brim.

"Jesus, fuck." It's the first whine he lets out, a sound you won't get out of him often, and just like every other thing he does, it drives you insane.

He yanks your upper body back up to him by using the belt, switching to missionary. He can finally look at your pretty face like this, and you're still looking at him with those innocent eyes of yours, which unleashes something in him he doesn't know how to describe.

His hands settle on your chest when he resores the same pace, and you can feel your body shaking. Every pound of his hips knocks the air out of your lungs and you whimper, fingers twisting against the sheets.

God, he's never felt this possessive during sex. It's all because of you, fuck—

"You're mine, you hear me? I'll never let you fuck another man again. You're all mine, all fucking mine." He smacks your breast, making you yelp. "I don't give a shit if you still hate me."

You only nod frantically, not focusing on his words enough, but he won't let that fly, so his hand moves to take a hold of your jaw, forcing your mouth open. "Say it."

"S—shit—only want you to fuck me."

How the hell do you manage to keep pushing his buttons? You're so willing to please him while you claimed to hate him not even twenty-four hours ago. He wants you to treat him like you did before you found out who he really was, wants you to treat him like he's worth your time, outside of the bedroom too. He craves your love and affection, wants you all to himself, needs it.

The dangerous thing about this type of sex is that it makes him lose his self control — he's literally pussy-whipped. It's almost like being drunk, really. He says things he normally wouldn't say, confesses the feelings he has, and in this case, he's not sure that's a good thing.

With you at his mercy, he moves his finger to your clit and starts rubbing, knowing you're so close. He's sweating, his judgement and rational thinking clouded by lust and your warm body underneath his. "Tell me you love me."

Your eyes widen a little. "I—"

"Just once. Tell me—"

And upon hearing your reply, he breaks.

"I love you. Love you so much."

Leon cums with his teeth sinking deep in the juncture between your neck and shoulder, groaning as he muffles his groan. Bruises are forming on your hips, just like the nasty bites on your neck and breasts. You're both breathing hard, your body cemented completely to the sheets underneath you with his chest resting on top of yours.

"God, baby..." he moans, still rubbing his cock lazily against your insides. He pulls all the way back, enjoying the way his cum is seeping out of your hole and trickling down to the crease of your ass before it stains the sheets underneath.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his words only now catching up to him. How could he force you to say that?

"Shit. I'm sorry... about that."

It's quiet for a moment, but once you can properly breathe again, you move your hand to his hair. "Why?"

"Shouldn't have forced you to say something you don't mean. It was stupid, I'm sorry." And he's beyond surprised to hear you laugh, so he looks up with a pout. "It's not funny."

"It kind of is. How are you the same man who took me hostage like, a week ago?"

Rolling his eyes, he huffs. "Can you please, for the love of God, stop reminding me of that?"

"What, you got a conscience or something?" You smile, and he cracks one too, dropping his head on your tits. "If I didn't mean what I said, I wouldn't have said it."

That's... oh. He likes hearing that.

"Okay." Is all he says in return, smiling to himself when he realizes you just admitted you love him.

And just like that, he feels energized again.

"You got one more in you, baby?" He asks rhetorically, a layer of sweat coating his skin, moving his hand over your thighs.

You're so tired and fucked out, and your heart is still beating so incredibly fast in your chest that you're pretty sure another orgasm will get you passed out on the floor. "Jesus, I'm gonna combust if you even try to touch me again." You laugh and he chuckles at your words. "I'm afraid the only thing I can do here is suck you off again or something. Where on earth did you get this high-ass stamina?"

You're both cracking up at the situation, and you pull him close to you, just for the hell of it.

"Did you like it? This rough?"

His voice is a bit small, just because he's worried he might've really overstepped things here.

"No, it was awful. Hated it."

The sarcasm drips from your tongue. A wave of relief washes over him.

He feels lucky to have a partner who doesn't make snarky comments or tries to shame him for his insecurities. He feels lucky to have you in general. He may not have known you for long, but he can't—doesn't want to imagine his life without you in it.

And like some cliche little love story, you feel the exact same.

This is the truest form of love either of you will ever get to experience, despite the toxicity and the rollercoaster of emotions you've had to overcome. Yet you managed, and like the fools you both are, you think you can actually escape from what's bound to happen.

Then again, how could you know the clock has started ticking? Time waits for no one. You'll both end up victims of the same crime.

Because some things are made to be broken, even if they are never held.

Notes:

hi sorry for this shitty chapter. anyways i set up a ko-fi! i'm a broke college student trying to get through law school and still looking for a new job. i put a lot of time in this story so if you're enjoying it please consider sending a tip! 3 /cassfics

Chapter 21: Ace of Spades

Summary:

Your journey as a fugitive turns out to be awfully short-lived.

Notes:

warnings: oral (f+m receiving), facesitting, dirty talk, this is the closest you'll ever get to switch!leon in this fic, lots of ANGST but we ain't gonna talk ab that, just be prepared for the worst bc this is sort of the end !

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

You awake from a peaceful slumber around nine in the morning. Through the window, you see the sky is awfully cloudy, not a ray of sunshine to be detected. It's still bright outside though, so you'll take whatever you can get.

All you're hearing is Leon's slow breathing underneath your ear. With your head on his chest, you notice the white sheets draped around your waist is the only thing covering your naked bodies.

Normally, you hate waking up early, but now that you glanced at Leon in his sleeping form, you can't tear your gaze off him. From what you've noticed, he's a deep sleeper, with many dreams and even more nightmares, but he doesn't seem to sleep for very long. He only needs a few hours to be fully energized again.

Your brows scrunch up when he shifts a little. His eyelids open just the slightest bit, and he lets out a sigh. "Caught you staring."

"As if you mind it."

"Never said I did." He mentions with a lazy grin. Rolling your eyes, you turn to lay on your back, and Leon pulls you closer to him. "Did you sleep well?"

"I pretty much passed out after last night, so... yeah."

He snorts at the comment. "Don't look at me. You wanted me to fuck you like that."

"Well yeah, but now I won't be able to walk properly today, dipshit."

"Oh, so now she complains. Do I have to remind you of the way you begged me to go harder?"

"Please don't."

"It was cute though. 'Oh Leon, you fuck me so good, don't you dare stop'—"

Turning around to face him again, you put your hand on his mouth, jaw hurting from the embarrassed smile on your face. "Shut up!"

Now that you're not covered by the sheets anymore, he glances at your chest and raises his brow with a cocky smirk. He takes your hand off his mouth easily. "I made a mistake."

He sounds awfully serious, and you feel worried suddenly. "A mistake?"

"A grave one." He responds, nodding, and you wait in anticipation for him to elaborate. "I completely forgot to give you some hickeys."

Your worried expression turns to something resembling a glare. "Seriously?"

"Yeah."

After deadpanning his response, he looks at you like he's planning something, and you're silent for a few seconds before putting your finger up. "No."

"Princess—"

"I'm lucky I brought a collared shirt with me. You can literally see where the belt was, asshole. Besides, my insides can't handle more rearranging. I gotta go shower. That is if I can even stand properly."

He laughs at the way you talk to him, arm snaking around your waist when you do. "I can put them elsewhere if you want me to."

"Persistent, aren't you?"

"Morning sex is the best sex, you know that, right?"

As tempting as it sounds, you're still sore from last night, but you're pretty sure he'll be gentler this time. And he's just looking a little too sexy to turn down, but you won't admit that out loud. "You're lucky I like you."

"It's okay. You can admit I'm irresistible."

You act like you're done with his shit, moving away from him, raising your hands a bit. "And now I will be heading into the shower instead—"

"The hell you are." He says, immediately pulling you back. You pretty much land in his lap, still feeling a bit insecure to show off your body despite the fact that he's seen you naked several times already.

Hot arousal and excitement shoots through your veins when you feel that he's hard underneath you. How quick does this even happen to him? Did he wake up like this?

He notices how you begin to kiss down his jaw and chest, moving your body back and lifting the sheets, only to be greeted by the sight of his hard cock.

It's a miracle you're able to take him, because he's big.

You feel a bit more confident now that you've done it last night already, so as you hold him in your hands, you wrap your lips around him. Leon hisses at the sensation, instinctively grabbing your hair.

God, you never thought you'd enjoy doing this, but you do. Seeing his lips parted and eyes closed in pleasure excites you more than anything else.

It's not the same as last night. He was more in control of your movements, but now you can do whatever you want, and he'll probably let you. So you suck him off lazily, occasionally hollowing your cheeks, moving your tongue around him.

His eyes roll back when you release his cock to take his balls into your mouth, his hand gripping your hair harder. "God, I should've fucked you sooner. Look at you, sucking my dick like that. I bet you're enjoying this."

The hum you let out as a response sends vibrations up his spine, and he forces himself to hold in a whine of pleasure. His moans are low and soft, hands gripping the sheets.

He looks down at you again, and the sight of you licking his cock as if it's a lollipop is just too much. He doesn't wanna cum yet, so he makes a grabby hand, cupping your face with his palm. "Wanna kiss you, Doll."

His hands move to your back when you come up to kiss him. Your lips collide sloppily, spit gathering on the corners of your mouths, just the sound of your lips moving together makes the pit in your stomach flare up with desire.

It's too good, feeling his fingers tracing circles on your skin. Your kisses last longer than usual. Making out with him is way hotter than it should be — it leaves you gasping for air, wanting more.

But he's gotta stick to his words. How could he not? It's no surprise when he casts his eyes down, his teeth sinking into your flesh, leaving the love bites that prove you're his.

He's a bit of a possessive lover in that department. He wants people to know that you're crying out for him to fuck you every night.

Releasing your breast with a pop, he embraces you in his arms, face inching closer to yours. "I want you to sit on my face."

Looking at him in surprise, eyebrows furrowed, you're not sure how to respond. "What?"

"You heard me."

"My man, if I sat down on your face, you wouldn't be able to breathe."

"That's the point."

"You'll regret it later, I bet—"

"Sweetheart. All I want in life is a woman who can crush my head in between her thighs. So with all due respect, if you don't sit that pussy on my face right now, we're gonna have issues."

He says it so casually that you can't help but laugh. "Okay, okay, but you gotta warn me if it gets too much."

After he's made himself comfortable, you feel a bit weird, hovering over his face like this. Don't get him wrong — Leon is a patient man. Usually. But he's aching for this, so he grabs a hold of your thighs and pulls you down on him, making you gasp out.

His tongue prods at your hole, and your eyebrows scrunch together. It's different in this position, he's closer to you like this, and you grab the headboard.

"S—shit, Leon. Oh—" Your moans are high-pitched, eyes closing every now and then when he gets to the perfect spot. He knows your body so well. It's no wonder he's already got you crying out his name in a matter of minutes.

He spanks your ass, catching you off-guard, which only arouses you more. His hands grip your thighs harder, and you can't help but move around. He pushes you to do so even more, to the point you're riding his face, and you did not know it would feel this good.

You feel his palm hitting your ass again and again, and you whine. "Wanna cum so bad, oh my God—please, please let me—"

And because you've been so good, and because he loves you and the pretty sounds you make so much, he will. Spanking your asscheeks, he moves his tongue faster, sucking on your clit, making you spasm, clenching hard around nothing.

As you come down from your high, you move off him, legs still trembling. You can see your juices and wetness on his face, and you're embarrassed for a brief moment, until he gathers some of it with his fingers, pushing it into his mouth.

"Had a feeling you'd enjoy that." He chuckles with a satisfied grin, all while slightly trying to regain his breath, considering he could barely breathe underneath you. Not that he didn't like that, of course.

Looking down, you notice how his tip is turning red at this point, leaking pre-cum, aching to be touched. "You're rock hard."

Judging the way your eyes widen after that, he has a feeling you didn't mean to say that out loud. "What're you gonna do about it?"

The question makes you bite your lip, and you decide to give him what he wants. Moving back a little, you grab his cock and position the tip at your entrance, and you sink down on him. The stretch burns, more than you thought it would, but you push yourself to take him all in one go.

He lets out a long, guttural moan when you bottom out nearly completely and push yourself down on him again. It's the first time you're on top, and he's giving you more control over him than you'd anticipated.

You put your hands on his chest, he puts his on your tits, and you begin to move your hips in circles. His dick remains sheathed inside your gummy walls even as you move.

But Leon's feeling a little clingy this morning, and luckily for him, so are you. He needs you closer to him, so he gently puts his hand on the back of your neck and pulls you down, your chest touching his.

Your arms are beside his face, your face hovering over the crook of his neck as you arch your back when moving your ass forward and backward, repeating the motion over and over. It's a slow pace, but God is it good.

"Fuck, just like that. Fuck me just like that." He chokes out, because having you on top of him like this feels better than he thought it would.

His long, strained moans sound so filthy. They're adding fuel to the fire building up in your lower stomach. His cock is wet from the way you're coating him with your slick, arousal and lust clouding his mind. His long fingers move to your hips, helping you grind against him.

Jesus, he can hardly focus with your tits pressed against his chest like this. It's so intimate, it all feels so intimate with you.

The closeness makes you dizzy. His breath is warm when he presses his lips onto yours, sighing into your mouth from how good you're fucking him. He wants to savor the taste of you and the feel of you for as long as possible.

His touches are needy but gentle — loving. Him putting the palm of his hand on your cheek, you pressing kisses on his collarbone. You worship his body and he worships yours.

"Ah—you're gonna make me cum if you keep this up." He tells you breathily.

"Please cum for me. Wanna feel it. Gonna keep it in me all day." You beg, and he swears he can see a pout on your face. You know exactly what you're doing to him here and he relishes in it.

Just the thought of it is enough, but hearing you say it makes him hit his peak even faster. You lift your hips after he's released inside you, and you instantly feel empty.

You collapse on top of him, taking a much needed breather. "Did I do good? For my first time on top?"

"How do you even..." he chuckles at his own reply, looking at you with possibly more adoration than anyone else ever has. "You're a little too good for me, you know that?"

"Is this your way of telling me I'm awesome?"

"Is that what you wanna hear?"

"Yeah."

"... you're awesome."

"Hell yeah, I am." You respond with a beaming smile. "I'm also hungry, so uh..."

Leon snorts at that. "I was inside you like, a minute ago, and all you can think about now is food?"

"What? This was a whole workout. It makes me hungry."

"I'll order roomservice."

"Nice. I'm gonna go shower."

"Without me?"

"Sex addict."

"There she goes again with the complaining." He mocks, rolling his eyes, and you get up from the bed, feeling a bit sore, but it's not as bad as you feared.

You make your way to the bathroom. Just as you open the door, you turn your head to him. "I'll leave the door unlocked. Do what you want with that."

Leon pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smirking at the statement.

While you're standing in the shower, you're not surprised when he comes in to join you.

An hour later, after round two in the bathroom, you've finally eaten some breakfast. Being clean and dressed, you're ready to head out.

The weather still sucks, but at least you've got a plan, so you should be good for today.

Now that you're walking outside, you see how old the city is. Historic buildings, museum, even the houses look like they're built a long time ago, which they are.

It's not that crowded, but it's certainly not quiet either. Leon has a bad feeling in his gut, especially when he sees two small groups of policemen walking around. Both of you know it's best to avoid them.

You're walking on the streets, and Leon squints when he sees something he hopes is not what it appears to be. Crossing the path, he gets closer to the poster that has the word 'GEZOCHT' on it in big, bold letters — with his picture in the middle. Name, nationality, hair and eye color... fuck.

And when he sees your poster is attached to the wall, right next to his, his eyes widen. "God fucking damnit."

Once you see why he's cursing, you get chills. Reality hits you just like that.

Two wanted posters, one with your photo and identity, one with his.

"Shit. This is bad."

"It's worse, actually." Leon mentions, pinching the bridge of his nose. "They're claiming I kidnapped you."

Raising your brow, you scoff. "That's bullshit—"

"Yeah, I know that, you know it too, and so do they — but they're saying it because people will be watching out for us more. Everyone with a bit of common sense and morality will watch out for the guy who allegedly kidnapped a 19-year-old girl."

"Fuck, we're done for, aren't we?"

"Well, if we are, there's one thing we might wanna do first. Just a precaution."

"Okay, what is it?"

"We should get married."

Your eyes might as well pop out of their sockets. "Excuse you?"

"I haven't exactly been dreaming of getting married at twenty-three either, but it could change everything if we get caught." He explains, ripping both posters off the wall and shoving them in his pocket before he takes your hand, moving into a back alley. "It means they can't force us to testify against each other, visiting rights, et cetera. Spousal privilege is one hell of a thing."

Blinking a few times, you wave your hands. "You've got a point, I can see that much. But this isn't... I can't just... marriage?"

"Princess, it's gonna be on paper only. We sign 'em and that's it. Nothing will change."

What the hell have you gotten into? Surviving an outbreak, first time having sex, about to get married to a man you've known for a week, at most — this is insanity.

"I gotta think this through, Leon."

He understands how hesitant you are. It is a lot, but marriage doesn't mean that much to him. Most of the ones he's seen growing up ended with nasty divorces, so how could it mean anything at all? It's so fucking stupid. People vowing to stay together until death do them part, only to get a divorce several years later.

Well, in this case, you'd be his wife, and he'd be your husband, which... he likes more than he's willing to admit.

He just hopes you can't see his rosy cheeks and suppressed smile from the thought of it. Okay, so maybe it means a little bit to him. "Hey, it's still up to you. I'm not signing anything if you don't want to, yeah?"

"I appreciate it." You tell him, and as you keep walking, you can't help the idea of the two of you living together, domestic images flashing before your eyes, and you think you'd really like it.

But deep down, you doubt you'll ever get to have that.

Side by side, all you can focus on is the sound of your footsteps on the pavement. There's a chill in the air, a cold breeze making your lashes flutter. It almost feels too quiet — or maybe you're just imagining things.

Seeing some police officers at the corner you are just about to pass, Leon nicks a pair of sunglasses from a booth next to him, switching places with you.

Things are tense. Neither of you are at ease with danger lurking around each corner. As you follow his lead, you grab his hand just a bit tighter. "Leon, I feel like we're being watched."

"There's a solid chance we are." He responds, ushering you down the stairs with him. It goes underground — to the subway. According to the sign, the first train will arrive within two minutes. "We'll get to that stash in no-time. Best we can do right now is blend in with everyone else."

You nod in agreement, trying not to look as worried as you are.

The public transport here does wonders. You find yourself standing in the awfully busy train station not ten minutes later, and Leon moves to a locker. He knows the code from the back of his head and opens it up with ease.

It's a simple black bag, and you raise a brow. "I thought it'd be bigger than that."

"It's got two handguns and a sniper rifle."

"Forget I said anything." You respond, crossing your arms. "Well, we got the bag now. What's next?"

The two of you exit the central station, greeted with some light rain, the drizzle cool on your face. Judging the dark clouds coming your way, it's gonna be pouring soon.

He bites his lip, eyes rapidly scanning the streets. "Things are worse than I thought, Doll. They're onto us, they know we're here. They don't just have your identity registered, but mine as well — which means I gotta make a call right the fuck now."

"A call? What—who're you calling?"

"The one person who might be able to tell us more about what the authorities have on us."

You're not exactly sure who he's talking about here, so you're beyond curious when you step into the phone booth together, closing the glass door so that no one can hear.

He pushes a coin into the machine, dialing the number, and his icy blues stare right back at you while waiting in anticipation for the person he's calling to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Code in: Everest."

A pause at the other end of the line. His heart beats when he waits for a reply.

It's a simple but effective technique. Even the feds use it. You give a term classified as a code-in, the other person has memorized the two possibilities. One response if things are normal, one response if the other person is under duress.

"Response: Sparrow."

He exhales audibly, his fingers gripping the payphone. "Jesus. Had me worried there for a second."

"Well I've been worried ever since yesterday afternoon, dipshit." The girl retorts. "Listen, the CIA came by. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?"

"The CIA?"

"They asked about your whereabouts. I straight up lied to their faces, let's just hope they bought it. The name of the guy who spoke to me was Lloyd Smith. Don't know if that's of any use to you, but..."

"Please tell me you managed to keep Sherry hidden from them."

"Obviously."

"Good. We made it to Europe. Just came across a 'wanted' poster with my fucking name on it."

"What about the girlfriend?"

"They got her name too."

"Shit, Leon. How bad is it?"

He bites his lip, refusing to make eye contact with you. "Sarah, they're onto us. The odds aren't looking good, and they have no reason not to get rid of us."

"Why are you telling me this?"

She knows exactly why he's telling her this.

"If something happens and I don't come home—"

"Do not talk like that. I'm serious. I'll hang up if you continue."

"Sarah—"

"Leon, I—you can't just call me when you're halfway across the world, telling me I should be preparing for something like this. You can't do that to me."

His heart breaks when he hears her choking up, knowing he caused it. She's all on her own, taking care of a 12-year-old with no adults present, while he's trying to tell her he might never be coming back home.

"I'm sorry."

"Just... just do what you always do. You're smarter than they are. You always have been."

"That doesn't matter when—" he doesn't finish his sentence. "Don't trust anyone."

"I know. Promise me you'll be safe. Please."

God, he can't tear up. Not again. He's cried more these past few days than in the past twenty-three years of his life. "Promise."

"Be careful. I love you."

He takes a deep breath before returning the sentiment. "Love you too."

Returning the payphone to its place, swallowing his worries, he eyes the streets around him. He's extremely focused now that he knows you're both hunted.

So when he sees two cops at the end of the street, he ushers you out of the phone booth, wishing he'd dyed his hair to look less like himself.

It's all the more anxiety-inducing to walk through the city. He knows he's got to get going, but the street is too crowded to steal a car.

"Leon, talk to me." You slightly squeeze his hand, making him realize he's been dead silent for minutes now. "What's the plan?"

"Get a car, get out of the city. Not gonna be that easy though." He responds, because he's noticed that a short man in a grey coat has been following the two of you for a while now.

Now that you've taken four rights in the span of minutes, his suspicions are confirmed. The man is an asset who was sent to kill the both of you.

Leon has other plans, though.

He evaluates the area around you and drags you with him, making sure you blend in with the crowd. "Take this."

While you walk, he hands you a see-through earpiece. "Why?"

"We weren't careful enough. They're nearby." He says, and he can't stop walking to reassure you, so he moves to briefly squeeze your hand. "We're gonna be fine, but we need to take care of the agent chasing us first."

"How do we do that?"

Yeah, it's probably for the best if he doesn't answer that. "Follow my instructions. Don't hesitate. Got it?"

This is the ruthless executioner in him talking, but you don't seem to connect the dots yet, so you just mindlessly do what he tells you to. "Got it."

It's a dangerous move of his, to use you as bait — but he's not worried. He'll make sure nothing happens to you. "Keep walking forward." He says right before exiting into an alley leading to another street, leaving you on your own.

You don't know what he's planning, and you're scared. What's happening?

"I need you to keep walking the whole time. Don't stop until I tell you to." You hear his voice through the tiny device in your ear, and he continues before you can even say something. "Keep going until you reach the cosmetics store at the end. Then take a left."

With your anxiety shooting through the roof and heart pounding in your chest, you do just as he said. "What do I do now?"

"There's a liquor store about fifteen meters away. It should be on your left. Go in there and take the backdoor. That will lead you to a hallway, then take the first door out, you'll reach a crowded street."

The thing is, you're pretty sure he's not watching you right now, and that scares you. What the hell is he doing? And how the fuck does he know the city so well?

As you begin to walk towards the store, Leon runs up the stairs of the building, testing his own limits, because he doesn't like having you out of his sight in a situation like this.

"Talk to me."

His words pull you out of the train of thoughts in your head. "I'm in the hallway. The guy's definitely chasing me."

"Don't worry, yeah? It's all going according to plan. You're safe."

"Yeah." You reply, despite not even knowing what his plan is. "What about you? Are you safe?"

And even though you can't see it, you can hear the smile in his voice. He can't help it when you're being sweet like that. "Yeah Sweetheart, I'm safe."

"Okay, good."

"What would you do if I wasn't though?"

"Leave you for dead, probably."

"Cruel woman. You're not the most attentive girlfriend, you know."

"I don't think you should be addressing me as such after what we did today."

He's coordinating your location from the back of his head while simultaneously setting up the gear and talking to you. A chuckle leaves his mouth after your comment, but it's back to business now. "Made it to the street?"

"Yes."

"Alright. Walk to the corner across from you. There's a big square after that. Try to keep going in a straight line."

"Copy."

A tram passes you. As you walk onto the square, you wait for instructions while still keeping the same pace. It's not even that crowded for a city like this, with only a few groups of people in sight. "What now?"

"Head to the front of the palace. Whatever you do, do not look behind you."

"Why?"

The question is answered awfully fast, but not by him.

You stop dead in your tracks when you hear a loud shot behind you. The pigeons all fly off in an instant, people begin to scream, and you can't help but notice the red splatters on your fingertips.

Leon's orders were more than clear, but you're a creature of habit.

So you turn around, seeing the short man in the grey coat with a bullet in his head, blood seeping out and covering the cobblestone.

It's a nasty sight, and you can hear Leon saying something through the earpiece, but you can't tell what. The sight in front of you has you in shock. People gather around the dead body faster than a freight train, and you're frozen in place.

You have no idea how many minutes pass by. A sudden arm looping around yours pulls you out of it. He takes you away from the crime scene, walking off as if nothing happened.

He barely looks at you, too busy directing you to a car in the distance. He breaks it open silently and subtly, throwing the bag with guns in the back and hot-wiring the engine.

You sit down in the seat, not saying a word, sweat breaking out on your forehead. You can't think properly with the way your head hurts.

It's silent in the car for several minutes. Traffic is bad for the first three, but Leon manages to get you out of the city in no-time.

As you drive on a quiet road, the woods on your left, you swallow before finally speaking up. "Stop the car here."

He frowns next to you. "What?"

Your voice is low when you turn to him, hissing a response angrily. "If you don't stop the car right now, I'll genuinely suffocate."

Seeing you're clearly unwell, he checks his mirrors before pulling to the side of the road, parking the car near the path into the woods that was clearly made for hikers and such.

You step out of the car, as does he, and your lip twitches when you turn around, smacking him in the face. Hard. "You motherfucker."

Your anger went from zero to a hundred in a matter of minutes, blood boiling when all the trauma and stress from the past week bubbles to the surface.

He touches his jaw, because goddamn did that hurt — as you walk a few meters away from him. "What the hell was that for?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it was the fact that you just shot a man and left his body in the middle of a square."

"The fuck does that matter?"

"It's murder, Leon!"

"Yeah, it is. Grow up, Princess."

"Do you even hear yourself right now?"

"I do." He says, a scowl forming on his face. "I don't regret it. Hell, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. You got a problem with that?"

Shaking your head in horror, you back away from him, not giving a damn that it's pouring rain at this point. "Unbelievable."

"I'm sorry, would you rather have died instead?"

"Don't you dare put this on me!"

"It was him or you! What do you not understand about that?"

"You could've knocked him out. You keep killing people as if it's normal."

"It's not normal." He says with his right eye twitching just a bit, and it scares you. "Sometimes it's just human."

"How are you—what is wrong with you? How can you say that!?"

"You're no better than me, Sweetheart." He gets angry and lets his emotions get to him. "Do I need to remind you what you did to Annette? Your aunt? She didn't even get to see her beloved daughter again, poor woman, because you beat her to death. You kept kicking and kicking until you sucked all the life out of her."

Oh, boy. He's perfectly aware that he's manipulating you, yet he keeps going. You want to be a hypocrite? Fine. This is what you get in return.

"That's different."

"How? Enlighten me."

"Because I actually feel guilty about it." You choke out, knowing that he's right, and you have nothing to argue with. No ground to stand on. It's a bit of a low blow, because you're aware of how much he struggles with his guilt internally.

He gently takes a hold of your chin, a scowl forming on his face, all before he spits out the word with a venomous tone. "Liar."

"You don't even know me. Not really." You say, shaking your head before he puts his palms on your cheeks. "Don't—don't act like you know what's going on in my head."

"Then I should tell you the same. Because apparently, you've got me all figured out, right?" He chuckles humorlessly. "I'm the bad guy with too much blood on his hands, and you? You're acting like you're some little girl with perfect morals, but I've seen what you really are."

"And what's that?"

"Human. That's what you are, just like me." He responds monotonously. "Because you'd kill for me if it meant saving me. You may hate me, you may not have forgiven me yet, not truly, but you care about me. You would've come with me, even without the money and the sex — because you care."

"If you're so convinced of that, then why did you need me to tell you I loved you last night?"

He bites his lip. "Because you'd never admit it by yourself."

"Do you find that weird? Don't you get it?" You ask him, and he frowns. "When I found out about your hidden agenda, you—you hunted me down. I was so afraid that you were gonna kill me. You tied me up like a prisoner, hurt me, tried to kill Claire while having me watch. I feel so stupid and naive and embarrassed for trusting you, and yet, for some stupid fucking reason, I still care about you. You fucking asshole!" You're so upset and heartbroken, tears stream down your cheeks when you hit and sob into his chest.

He doesn't say anything at first — he just lets you. Then, when you're only crying, he wraps his arm around you, kissing your temple and stroking your hair. "I'm sorry, Doll. I'm so sorry."

"No, you're not." You sob into his chest, weakly trying to push him away. He respects your wish and takes a step back.

"What is it that you want from me, Leon?" You ask him with a raised voice, and the man in front of you swallows, because he's about to say something he knows he'll regret saying.

Yet the words roll off his tongue anyways.

"I want you to love me back." His voice breaks in the middle of the sentence, even if he appears calm with a sad look in his eyes, one that makes you tear up. "I know you said you did last night, but... I can't... you have to understand that this is the only way I'll ever be able to live life. With bloodshed and pain. It's never gonna end. Do you truly think I enjoy killing? I despise it. But I don't have a choice. Not after everything that's happened. It's kill or be killed for someone like me, and I hate it, but I have to."

Every brick of the walls around his heart that you managed to break down somehow weighs heavy on his shoulders.

You're speechless, but he's aching for you to say something. It's embarrassing, humiliating to wait for your response with what he just said — he feels so awfully insecure, which doesn't happen to him often.

"I..."

"It's okay. I understand. Just... say it once. Tell me that you don't feel that way about me and I'll never bother you about it again."

He sounds so incredibly hurt that it genuinely makes you sad.

Mostly because he's wrong.

But you don't get the chance to tell him that, because Leon's eyes widen when he sees a group of heavily armed men in tactical gear appearing in the distance behind you. Several red dots begin to appear on your back, so he spins you around, suddenly feeling a stinging pain in his back and his side.

Leon might be strong, but he's still human — so it's only natural for him to collapse on the ground. He squeezes his eyes shut and hisses in pain, tasting blood in his mouth.

His vision blurs, the ringing of loud gunshots in his ears preventing him from hearing anything else. The bullets hurt like a bitch, and he looks down, realizing he's in deep trouble.

Because he's losing too much blood.

The strength in his body dissipates as if it was never there in the first place. He feels powerless, he can barely move — so he drops his head onto the cold grass, eyes rolling back in pain. Being in this state, he can only hope you're not hurt.

It seems to take an eternity for you to take the armed men down. The rain pours from the grey sky, your hands red from the blood of the soldiers, as well as your own.

And Leon — he can't even feel the blood covering his body, or anything else for that matter.

He doesn't know where you are, he can't seem to move his body anymore — but then you crawl up to him, also injured yourself.

"L—Leon?" You call out quietly, almost inaudibly.

It takes him long to respond. Too long. His eyes seem so empty, yet something happens when they meet yours. "So pretty. My pretty girl." He says it so softly.

A lump begins to form in your throat. You don't even want to think about the worst possible scenario right now, because it feels like that's exactly what's happening. "I—I'm gonna try to lift you up."

He tries to shake his head, but it takes too much energy to do so. "Don't." He tells you before taking a deep breath. "It's no use."

No, no, no. That's exactly what Ada said just seconds before she dropped to her death. You won't lose him too.

"I need to get you to a hospital. Please. You need treatment."

He would shake his head if he could. "I'll bleed out. I already am. Listen... I need you to promise me that you'll live when this is over."

A silent tear rolls down your cheek. "Not if you don't live."

He smiles just a bit, with all the strength he can muster, all while choking on his own blood. So stubborn. "Please... promise me. That you'll live. And take care of Sarah for me. Please."

"I can get you to a hospital. Please. Just work with me here." You beg in a whisper, taking his hand. "You're gonna be okay, just—" You gather his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. You're terrified, not knowing what to do to save him when you can barely remain calm yourself. You can only repeat the same line over and over again until he believes it. Until you, yourself, believe it.

"I'm not gonna make it, Sweetheart." He whispers back to you, and your vision begins to blur from the tears welling up in your eyes. "It's okay. I deserve it after everything that I did."

Nothing could have prepared you for that. It's what utterly breaks you, shattering your heart in a way you didn't think was even possible.

"No, you—you deserve to live. You need to live. You deserve to be happy." You mumble, wiping away the tears, despite knowing it won't stop them from coming.

"I never wanted to see the world burn. I didn't mean to cause all this pain, I—all I wanted was to take care—" he stops talking for a second to hiss in pain, "—of the people I love."

"Let me help you. Please." You beg him for the last time.

The color is draining from his face with every passing second. "I never... thought I'd grow to love someone this much. My only regret is..."

He doesn't continue his sentence, so you gently move your thumb across his cheek, unsure whether the drops on his skin are from the rain or your tears. "What is it?"

For the briefest moment, life flashes back to his eyes. "My only regret is not giving you the love you deserve."

The pain in your chest keeps growing and growing. How does he not understand that he's worthy of all the love in the world? "I'm so in love with you, goddamnit." You cry out, a single sob escaping you, but you have to pull yourself together.

A tear escapes his eye. "I wish I could've... had a wedding with you." His hand moves to hold yours, putting his last ounce of strength into doing so. "What... what kind of dress would you... h—have worn?"

The question catches you off guard. "I... something with long sleeves, I think. Lace." You answer while sniffling from all the tears.

He's not looking at you anymore — he's staring at the grey sky above him. "I bet you'd look like an angel."

He pictures you in a dress, like the one you described, and he imagines dancing with you, even if he hates dancing and hates weddings. He never thought of himself getting married, but you... he'd want all of that if it would make you happy.

After doing so, you see his lashes flutter, and he looks content — right before he closes his eyes. He's tired. So tired of everything.

"No, please, I—don't leave me. I can't do this without you." You tell him, but part of you knows it's too late. "I need you. Come back, please. Please, please don't leave me."

A broken sob escapes you, and you can't hold back anymore. You let your head fall onto his chest, your heart aching like it never has before, and it hurts so bad. You feel like you can't breathe.

Like you'll never breathe again.

Notes:

damn. sorry for writing the shittiest death scene ever lmao

anyways before y'all freak out, make sure to read the next chapter !

Chapter 22: Infernal Place

Summary:

The aftermath of the incident gives you a life you never thought you'd have.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Tears stream down your face while your fingers grip his shirt out of frustration.

You failed him.

It's your fault he got hurt. If you hadn't told him to stop the car, if you hadn't fought with him, he'd still be alive and well now. He spun you around and took the bullets directed at you. He protected you, prepared to give his own life for you.

You'd scream if you had the energy for it.

I never wanted to see the world burn. All I wanted was to take care of the people I love.

His words run through your head, and you feel like you're losing it. You know he was too far gone, you know he had to be stopped. You know. But it wasn't supposed to be like this...

His body twitches just the smallest bit. You put your ear above his slightly parted lips, and it takes long, but there's breathing.

So to confirm you're not imagining things, you put two fingers on his neck, and you feel a pulse. A slow one, but a pulse nonetheless.

Yet your hope is partially shattered when you hear footsteps approaching behind you. A team of seemingly regular police officers come up to you, guns raised.

Things aren't looking good for you. Surrounded by several bodies of the DSI, you're kneeled by the body of a dying man — and you see no way out. But you can gain one thing out of this situation.

You raise your shaking hands. "I'm unarmed!"

"Hands on the back of your head!" The officer in front of you yells, and you do what he says.

"Please, he needs medical attention!" You cry out. "He's still got a pulse. If you save him, I'll do whatever you want. I'll cooperate!"

You're lucky the officer leading the team sees it would be better to hand Leon back to the U.S. government alive instead of in a body bag. That's why he gestures to the officer next to him, who begins to inspect Leon's injuries while you're being handcuffed.

As you're taken away from the scene, you see the team has split up to focus on getting both of you away from the crime scene. You wish he'd just get up. You wish he would open his eyes and stand up as if he was just playing pretend the whole time, like a scene in a movie.

But he doesn't.

Your hair and clothes are drenched from the heavy rain, and you turn to look at the body of the man you love before you're escorted into the police van.

Later on, after driving about twenty minutes, you're moved into a facility that looks ordinary on the outside, but is something resembling a police station on the inside. There's a good chance you're standing in a black site.

The place almost looks shady. The officer pushing you forward by your wrists begins to talk to the colleagues waiting for you. "Dit is de dame van negentien die ze in Amerika willen hebben."

"En haar partner?"

"Hij was al neergeschoten door agenten van de DSI toen we aankwamen. Het is nog maar de vraag of hij 't overleeft."

You frown, listening to the conversation you can't understand, only recognizing some words. "Excuse me, uh — what's gonna happen to me?"

The officers turn to you. "You'll be detained for a few hours. After that, our agents will ensure you're going back to the U.S. as we don't have the authority to interrogate you."

His accent is nearly entirely gone when he speaks English, almost sounding American. It's quite impressive.

Feeling so many eyes on you is unsettling, to say the least. And they're looking at you like you're guilty of something.

Which, now that everything has dawned on you, is exactly what you are.

Seven men. You murdered seven men to keep them from killing Leon, which they may have succeeded in regardless. "Can you please inform me when he... when you know anything about his condition?"

"What is he to you? Boyfriend?"

You shake your head. "No, he's... my husband."

The events that took place just hours earlier flash before your eyes the moment you look at the gold ring sitting on your finger.

Walking through the streets while holding hands, you keep thinking about what he said to you. "Y'know what? Screw it."

Both of you stop walking, and he turns around to face you with slight confusion. "What?"

"Let's get married. I thought about what you said, and... well, I think you're right—"

You're cut off when he hugs you. He didn't mean to do that, he proposed it with such indifference — but you actually agreed to it. He doesn't care what the reason is.

Holy shit. He's gonna get married.

"I've got enough money with me for us to buy rings. You up for that?" He asks, trying not to sound as excited as he is.

But you sense the enthusiasm regardless. Hell, anyone with eyes could see it. It's radiating off of him. "Of course I am."

His heart might as well burst right now. He's nervous. Why is he nervous? He doesn't remember the last time he was this excited for something.

And just like that, you're pulled back to your awful reality.

Once you're alone in your cell, truly isolated from people for the first time in days, you shed a tear. It's a surprise you can even bring yourself to cry again, given how much you already have today.

Making yourself small in the corner, you feel your hands trembling. Where did they take Leon? The hospital?

Did he even make it there?

How the hell are you supposed to stay calm if you have no idea what's happening to him right now?

About two hours later, the door of your cell opens up again. "Please stretch your arms out." The officer says, and you comply, annoyed with the fact that your hands are getting cuffed again.

"I was informed that Mr. Kennedy was your husband." He speaks while guiding you out of the small space, and you nod.

"Did he survive?"

He looks down at the floor for a second, and you're afraid he's the one to bring you the bad news — until he gives his response. "He's currently in surgery. From what the doctors have said, he's lucky the hospital was closeby. He lost a lot of blood, a near fatal amount."

"So... he'll be fine after surgery?" You ask, trying to get a clear answer that will put your mind at ease.

"It's still uncertain, but yes, there's a good chance he'll live."

You'll take whatever you can get. Letting out a sigh, your breath hitches in your throat. "Can I see him after he's done?"

"Not up to us to decide. A representative of the American Embassy is here to take you back to the U.S. immediately, given the emergency of your case."

And it's not just one agent taking you back — it's several armed men who certainly look like they can handle themselves. God, what's going to happen to you now? Will you go to court?

Are you going to spend the rest of your life in prison?

Hell, are they gonna kill you?

Maybe if you can prolong the process long enough, you can escape and rescue Leon.

Whatever the G-virus did to your body, it certainly left its traces behind. You look human, but you've discovered that that's far from the truth.

Because the bullets hitting you didn't even faze your body the slightest bit when they tried to shoot you down, and you ripped them apart as if it was child's play.

You've become exactly what your uncle meant for you to become.

But the problem is that they now know what you are.

And you're convinced that is exactly what's going to be your undoing.

After a long flight, a few hours of sleep in a cell and some Thai takeaway food, you sit in an interrogation room. The male and female agent sitting across from you have been trying to get something out of you for a while now. Anything, really. Any information regarding your experience in Raccoon, the truth about Umbrella, anything.

Yet you don't answer.

He folds his hands together. "You told the officers in Amsterdam you'd cooperate if we took care of your husband."

For someone who might be on death row soon, you've got an awfully big attitude. But you don't give a shit right now. "No, I said I'd cooperate if you saved him. There's a difference. And I haven't received any updates regarding his surgery since my arrest yesterday."

The agents exchange looks with each other, and it's obvious they're hiding things from you. The man speaks up again. Ressler, you think his name was. "He got out of surgery well. They successfully removed the bullets and patched him up."

"So he's fine?" You ask, your demeanor changing. "Can I talk to him?"

"He's comatose. He has been since he was picked up at the scene of the crime. If anything, you're the last person who's talked to him."

That's bad. Really bad.

How big are the chances of someone waking up from a coma? You don't know, maybe you don't even want to know.

"Unfortunately, our investigation can't wait any longer." The woman speaks up, wanting to make progress, and you frown.

The fire in you is flaring up with each passing second. "Investigation for what, exactly? What grounds have I even been arrested on? Aside from trying to defend myself and my partner from the people who started to shoot at us for no fucking reason."

"Mr. Kennedy has a habit of killing our men before they get a hold of him. We couldn't let him slip through our fingers again."

"Then why the hell did those men aim at me? I was in front of him, he jumped in front of me and took the bullets."

"I can assure you we didn't mean to—"

"Well, you did. Now he might never wake up because of your doing."

The other agent takes over again. "Do you even realize how big of a criminal your partner is? Because I don't think you do."

You furrow your brows. "Do enlighten me."

He spreads one of the files he's carrying with him out on the table. "He has a long list of charges. First-degree murder, second-degree murder, manslaughter, fraud, assault, resisting arrest, theft, reckless endangerment, et cetera."

Jesus, that's a long list.

"I have nothing to do with any of that. We met like... a week ago."

"Then why are you married to him?"

"I don't believe our personal relationship has anything to do with me being here."

"It does, actually." The agent responds. "As I said, he's currently in a coma. We're the ones keeping him alive. We can just as easily let him go. All it takes is someone pulling out the plug of his life support."

So they're going to force everything out of you by threatening to kill Leon?

Wow. How noble.

He wouldn't want you to tell them of the events that occurred. You know that, of course. But his life is at stake, and all you care about is making sure he lives.

So you tell them everything. How you went to Raccoon to visit your uncle and his family, how you got caught up in the mess and were forced to become a zombie killer for the night. How Leon lied to you about his identity, turning out to be with the enemy until you found out. They write some things down, recording the conversation.

When you're done, it's quiet. You feel like you've committed a crime by confessing, but you had to. Ressler is the first to speak up again, this time in a kinder tone. It seems he feels for you, knowing you didn't actually commit a crime, that it was all Leon. "Why'd you let him drag you down like this, kid? After betraying you like that?"

And because you've told them everything already, you take a deep breath. "'Cause I love him. Even if I don't want to at times like this."

The agents both kind of sympathize with you. The woman hesitantly cuts in, taking something out of the folder on the table. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news here, but... I have a recording of a phone call that might be of interest to you."

Furrowing your brows, you wait in anticipation when she puts a voice recorder on the table, flipping the switch on the side. An unknown male voice begins to crack through the device.

"Ensure that you get a sample of G, no matter the cost. Birkin is most likely in the lab. Should the Alpha Team fail, it's up to you to get rid of him."

"I'm aware. I read the report. Anything else I should know?" That's Leon's voice. It's the first time hearing it since he was shot, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

"An agent at HQ mentioned Birkin might still be planning something. He sent an email to his niece a few weeks back. She doesn't live in Raccoon City, and she was supposedly planning on arriving later today." The man at the other end of the line tells him, after which he mentions your name and description of your looks. "Considering her degree, she might know more than we think. Smart girl."

"She a target?"

"Confirmed. We can't afford to let anyone outside the facility know."

"Copy."

The line cuts off and the recording stops playing. You sit on the chair wordlessly, unable to look away from your hands.

He lied. Again.

Leon was ordered to kill you. He knew you were coming to Raccoon, so that means he recognized you when you bumped into him at the gas station, and you confirmed your identity when you told him your name in the car.

And that's when you feel like breaking down. After running your hands through your hair, you cover your face with your palms, leaning forward in your seat. "Goddamnit. He can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

Rolling your eyes, which are glazed with tears, you feel sick. "He's such a liar. He always lies. I just don't get it." You're speaking to yourself, not to them, frustrated to the max.

You asked him after you found out about his mission whether he was planning on killing you, he lied through his teeth again and you believed him like the fool you are.

It's so draining. You love him so much. You do. But how much more of this shit does he expect you to take from him? You're beyond sick of his lies. He can't expect you to keep trusting him whenever it turns out he hasn't been truthful to you.

And in all honesty? This is the tipping point for you. He keeps making you look like a fool, and you've forgiven him for it every damn time.

Not anymore.

Clenching your jaw, you move your hand through your hair. "Tell Mr. Kennedy when he wakes up that I don't want to see him or talk to him for the time being. Let him hear the recording."

"Are you sure? He's your husband, after all."

"Tell my husband he can go fuck himself."

And in that moment, the agents in the room realize this is the perfect moment to offer you a deal.

And you have no other choice but to accept.

Several days later, three days after his surgery was completed, he awakes in a hospital bed. Pain shoots through his body when he tries to move, his eyes hurt when he first opens them due to the light.

God, he feels like he's about to throw up.

As his mind and clear thinking comes back to him, he finally remembers what happened and how he got here.

There was so much blood. He remembers how he couldn't move, how you cried holding him... how you thought he was dying. Hell, he thought he was dying.

Well, this sure as shit can't be heaven, yet it looks a bit too neat to be hell, so he's going to assume he's still alive and kicking.

His throat is sore as hell, which is most likely a result of the surgery he's pretty sure he had. He's all patched up, which is great, but now he's gotta get the hell out of here.

First mission is to get dressed. There's some simple clothes in the closet, which will do for now.

His movements are unsteady and shaky, his body aches, though it could be worse considering they must've given him some morphine, but he pushes through it. He was trained to take pain like this, after all.

When he's all good to go, he pushes the door open.

The unit seems clear, with only two nurses in the hall. He can either go right and take the elevator down to the main entrance, or take a left and head out the back door.

Something's off.

The thing is, normally, he'd go down the back door. Obviously. But he's a wanted criminal by the FBI, Interpol, you name it. So now that they've finally gotten to him after years, why wouldn't they guard the door? Cuff him to the bed? There's something wrong here.

So he narrows his eyes and goes for the main entrance.

As he moves, the signs attached to the walls tell him that he's not in Amsterdam anymore. He's back in the U.S. and he doesn't know what to make of that.

He reaches the huge hall with a high ceiling, and he can see the entrance when someone leaning against a wall talks to him before he can pass by. "Don't do anything rash."

Ah. He knew it.

Stopping dead in his tracks, he turns to the man in question. He's wearing a long, brown coat, and based on the way he holds himself, he's armed. Not to mention the earpiece he's got plugged in.

Leon chuckles. "Knew something was up."

"Planning on going out? You're supposed to be recovering. I was surprised to find you waking up so soon."

"Let me guess; there's a whole unit of soldiers outside?"

"Correct."

"Why not just put some guards outside my door?"

"We didn't want you climbing out the window with your wounds."

"How thoughtful."

The man holds up a pair of handcuffs, and Leon rolls his eyes, putting his arm up. He would've been able to escape in this situation if he wanted to, but knowing they must have you in custody, he cooperates, much to his annoyance.

Two days later, after getting some more rest, he's taken into interrogation. From what he saw, they've taken him to Langley — Langley. The CIA headquarters. He never imagined he'd set foot in this building.

Well, they're certainly not making the mistake of underestimating him. He's being escorted with several armed guards surrounding him, hands cuffed. One of them opens the door now that they're at the end of the hall. The second one gestures for him to get down in the interrogation room.

His piercing blue eyes move to the black glass, which he can't see anything through, but the people on the other side can.

And he's willing to bet that they're looking at him right now.

They force him to wait. Approximately five minutes pass by until the door opens.

A single man walks into the room, a folder in his hand. "It's nice to finally meet you, Leon."

"It's Mr. Kennedy to you. We're not friends." He responds, his own blue eyes meeting those of the man in front of him.

He clearly isn't impressed nor surprised by his attitude. He's got quite a stern face, actually, with a darker shade of blue eyes, short blond hair and a shaved face. "My name is Lloyd Smith. I'm an agent for the CIA. I've been working on the Umbrella case for a while now."

So this is the man who spoke to Sarah the day before he was shot. He's afraid of what the guy may have said to her. He doesn't want his sister to know any details of his work.

He remains quiet, so the agent in front of him folds his hands together before proceeding to ask his question. "Is there anything you can tell me regarding the Raccoon City incident?"

Leon barely even moves, in every sense of the word. He doesn't shift in his seat, doesn't move his arms and doesn't have anything other than a neutral facial expression. Not even when he gives his sarcastic retort. "What do you think?"

"From what we know, you're one of the few survivors of the incident. Out of those few, however, you are the only one employed by the very company in question."

"Possibly."

"Can you confirm that?"

"I'm not confirming anything."

What did the man think, that he was just going to sit here, telling him everything he wanted to know? No, he isn't stupid. Neither of them are.

The clock ticks audibly during the silence that occurs. Leon rarely ever meets someone who can up him, but weirdly enough, he's got the feeling this agent might just be a worthy opponent.

"I'm just going to be blunt here, Mr. Kennedy. We have your wife in our custody and eyes on the whereabouts of your sister." He might not be showing it, but his heart begins to beat faster when he mentions you and Sarah.

"Is she alright?"

"Yes." Smith responds, and before he can continue, he gets cut off.

"I have the right to see her."

"You do. The thing is just that she doesn't want to see you."

That's the first moment he shows emotion. His eyebrows furrow in confusion, his breath hitches in his throat. "What are you talking about?"

Lloyd merely answers by taking a voice recorder out of the folder.

It plays the exact same phone call between the agent from Umbrella HQ and himself. Leon sighs. This is the worst thing they could have showed you. "It's a misunderstanding."

"She doesn't see it that way."

"Let me talk to her."

"We have no reason to. We're more than happy to fulfill her wishes, considering the fact that she confessed."

His eyes widen a bit at the statement. "Confessed what?"

"Everything. How you met at the gas station, pretended to be a rookie cop for nearly the whole night until she found out. She took us through the whole night and explained everything in thorough detail."

He doesn't blame you for that. Making up a lie would only be more difficult, especially now that you haven't been able to discuss anything with the other. "Then why did you want me to tell you anything? She's already told you all about it."

"Well, she also told us you got her a fake passport and killed our asset in Amsterdam with a sniper rifle."

And it's in that moment Leon realizes he has no ground to stand on. The agent has a hold on the two people he loves, and with his crimes bubbling to the surface, he's done for.

Yet he remains quiet, his face unreadable.

Smith's expression changes, which is hard to pinpoint, as he decides to speak up again. "You should know that either of you getting shot at was not my decision. If anything, I wanted to have you brought in unarmed. They tracked the car you stole from a distance, but we noticed you were arguing a while before the incident."

He knows why the agent mentions it. It's not like answering now will do any more harm than you've already done. They know everything. "Working for Umbrella has given me a lot, but it's cost me more. My life, my love, the person I once was. Let's just keep it at that."

He didn't mean to give an answer like that, but now that he finally realizes he's lost you, the lump in his throat grows and grows.

He wants to hold you so bad. He wants you back. Now that you don't want to be around him, he feels like he's being suffocated.

What he doesn't know is that he's lucky that it's this agent in particular sitting in front of him.

Because the knowledge he already has paired with the things Leon just said confirms that he was right.

Lloyd opens the folder and takes out a thin stack of files. He reads some things out loud first. "Leon Scott Kennedy, born October 7th, 1974 in Nixa, Missouri. Currently twenty-four years old, deceased mother and a father with unknown whereabouts. Several registered aliases, thirty-two registered kills, all of your missions have been successful."

"I'm aware."

"I even came across your case evaluation, which is quite interesting. 'Leon S. Kennedy, to be further referred to as subject, is currently the number one asset of the program. Subject was recruited on June 13, 1994, at the age of nineteen. He was attending the police academy at the time. Due to subject's parents both being out of the picture and himself being in need of money, subject agreed to partake in the program. After three years of training, he has proven to be a master of martial arts, an expert gunman and expert marksman. Subject is multilingual, with an IQ of 146, great physical strentgh and a high pain tolerance. He's resourceful and ruthless in the field, but is considerably kind-hearted outside of it.'"

Leon doesn't like it when people claim to know the ins and outs of his personality, so he shifts in his seat. "Yes, I know my file. I'm sure you've got a point to make, so make it."

The agent leans back in his seat. "Most of my colleagues would enjoy seeing you dead or rotting away in prison."

A pause. The eye contact between the two of them is strong.

"And you?"

"I think it would be a huge waste, considering your talents and skills." He responds, crossing his arms. "I'd like you to come work for our agency instead."

"As what? Some low-life informant?"

"No. A full-time agent. Just like me. You'll work with a secret task force, with me as your superior. You'd be doing similar work compared to what you did at Umbrella, the pay is good, and you'll have the protection of the government."

Wow. He's always several steps ahead of his enemies, but he'll admit that he did not see this coming. Why would they even trust him?

"You gotta be one sick son of a bitch to propose this."

"Perhaps I am."

He doesn't even have to ask what'll happen if he refuses. It's more than obvious.

Leon sighs, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek, cracking his knuckles. "Would that equal a full clearance of my file?"

"Yes."

And considering this is his best option, he agrees, proceeding to lift his wrists up. "I'd like my hands to be free when I sign the papers."

The blond across from him leans forward to unlock the handcuffs. He hands him the contract, along with a pen. "Read it first. I'll be back in twenty minutes."

The silence hits him harder than he thought it would. Images of you flash before his eyes, and he tries hard to read the words on the piece of paper in his hand.

The guilt weighs heavy on his heart. Heavier than it should.

Though he refuses to show any more of that when Smith returns to the room. Leon stands up, stretching out his arm with the signed contract. When the man wants to take it from him, he holds it firm in his hand. "There's three things you should know. One, I'm no rookie. Do not treat me as such. You push me and I will push back. You know what I'm capable of. Two, do not withhold any information from me, because I'll find out regardless."

"And number three?"

"Get me a downpayment. I got people to take care of."

Lloyd extends his hand. "I look forward to working with you, agent Kennedy."

Leon doesn't say anything in return, but does shake his hand. And just like that, a whole new chapter of his life started.

The first thing he does when he's officially released is go to the nearest phone booth. It feels strange to be walking freely after everything that happened, especially when he dials the phone number engraved in his mind.

"Hello?" Her voice sounds hopeful.

He's glad to hear her voice. "Hey, sis."

"Jesus Christ, Leon. Why didn't you ask for a code in? Are you still on the run? Why didn't you call?"

"Slow down, will ya?" He snickers, leaning back against the glass, arms crossing over his chest. "I'm not exactly on the run anymore. Can't believe I'm saying this, but... I'm working for the government now."

"What? How?"

"A lot of things happened after I called you. I can't go into detail about it, but... we were attacked by a team of heavily armed soldiers. They shot me. The surgical team in a nearby hospital removed three bullets from my chest, after which I was comatose for a few days. I awoke yesterday, had interrogation today and next thing I know, they offer me a deal to come and work for them. Didn't really have any other choice than to say yes."

Sarah lets out a sigh of both relief and worry. "When you didn't call on your birthday, I genuinely thought... I thought you were dead."

Right. So he spent his birthday unconscious in a hospital bed. He didn't even think of that.

He hears her sniffle at the other side of the line. She's a good kid, so selfless and caring — she's the only person he knows with an absolute heart of gold.

The cynic in him finds it both admirable and stupid.

"I nearly was. But I'm not that easy to get rid of, you know me." He chuckles lightly, trying to cheer her up.

"So, what's next?"

He raises his shoulders a bit before realizing she can't see it. "No idea, honestly."

Never in his twenty-four years of living did he think he'd become an agent for the CIA.

He also didn't think his near-death experience would be the last time seeing you in years. You both work for the same agency, but in different divisions, under different supervisors. Because while Leon develops a good relationship with his superior Lloyd Smith, you absolutely despise yours.

Derek Simmons.

He might just be the most cruel human being you've ever met, even if you're not aware of the crimes he's committed.

It's because you are like a project to him. When he was told you were infected with the G-virus in Raccoon City and came out as a superhuman, he didn't just want to transform you into a supersoldier. He wanted you to become a god — a god he could control.

And that's where your personal hell started. You had to sit through all kinds of experiments that were just plain torture in disguise, exhausting training, field missions where it's up to you to kill everyone in sight.

Everything has taken a toll on your mental health, so it's not a surprise you end up with several issues. You need all of it to stop, but you don't see a way out.

And your husband lives a very different life, much to your infuriation.

The moment Leon was close to dying your arms made him reevaluate his decisions and way of living. Now that he's working for the government, he decided to throw his life around. Sort of.

He does his best to save people. And he likes the feeling that gives him.

But he's still him, so he saves people on Monday, chokes the life out of a corrupt judge on Tuesday and brutally murders a sex offender on Wednesday. He goes to strip clubs on Thursdays, drowns himself in alcohol on Fridays and binges Grey's Anatomy on Saturdays.

Sundays are for church.

Just kidding. He'd rather get shot in the face than confess his sins.

Sundays are for getting breakfast with Sarah. Or laying bed, trying not to focus on his hangover.

Okay, so maybe he hasn't turned his life around that much. But it works. He's just an asshole tearing apart scum that's worse than he is. In his opinion, anyway.

At this point, four years after your separation, you still haven't spoken to one another. But you've heard rumors, and so has he.

From what a few close colleagues have told you since the very beginning, he's got a notorious reputation for being a ladiesman. Flirting is like breathing to him. Hell, from what you know, he's fucking a different girl every Saturday.

And it all started pretty quickly after you broke contact with him, which you didn't even mean to be permanent. But he seemed to have moved on from you so fast that your hate for him began to grow.

Yet when you thought about it, you realized he must've blamed you for being in the custody of the government. That it's because of you that he's gonna have to work for them for the rest of his life.

Wrong. He doesn't blame you for that, as it was bound to happen someday.

The girls he takes home mean nothing to him. They're one-night-stands, all to drown out the pain of losing you. He feels ridiculous for being this desperate for you, even years later, because no one has made him feel the way you did.

And he began to think you must despise him because he's the reason you got infected in the first place, because of all the shit he pulled. Because he lied to you.

Long story short — you're both emotional wrecks, hiding it from everyone.

But then, for some reason, you receive the news that your superior has been downgraded, and his supervision over you has become significantly less important, because someone else has stepped in.

Lloyd Smith.

And you're not sure whether he's a blessing in disguise or the devil himself, because while he doesn't want to put you through experiments, he does want to make you an addition to his team.

Which just so happens to be the team Leon's on.

Notes:

y'all didn't think i would actually kill off my beloved, did you? fortunately for you, i can't handle sad endings.

SO. here's the thing. you can take leon's death as a canon ending if you want.

however. IF you're still invested enough to keep reading, which, jesus christ, i doubt anyone is because i have been dragging this shit on for so long — i'm planning on writing the sequel. sort of. this chapter is kinda the prologue for it.

but what you should know is that i only have a rough draft for a storyline (it won't be set during a game like before) and will be following the reconciliation of leon and reader now that they've both been forced by the government to do their bidding as well as some… secret spy stuff happening.

because apparently i will grasp any opportunity to write enemies to lovers if i get one.

important: the sequel will be darker. it will involve themes such as mental illnesses, trauma, abuse, torture, maybe even suicidal thoughts, et cetera. i don't think it's going to be that heavy but who knows. just a precaution.

updates might be slower because i still haven't figured everything out yet, but i'll do my best. thank you all so much for your support! 33 (special shoutout to people who comment every chapter. i love you all mwah)

Chapter 23: Act II - 1. Diabolical Barbie

Summary:

You and your former lover meet again after years of being apart.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Leon—"

"Why in hell would you want her on our squad? We're doing perfectly fine as we are."

Lloyd takes off his glasses, putting them away on his neatly organized desk. The two of them find themselves in his office, with Leon standing across the room, pacing back and forth, waving with his hands. It might be the most upset the man has ever seen him.

Due to a decision of the higher-ups, Lloyd's distant colleague Derek Simmons was downgraded in his position, which meant he lost the majority of his supervision over the government's greatest human weapon — you.

And Lloyd, like the perceptive man he is, knew that it was Simmons who gave you missions that were way too easy for someone with your strength and power. So that's why he volunteered to supervise you, which meant moving you to his task force.

Much to Leon's dismay, apparently.

He tries to explain his reasoning. "I don't know if you're aware of this, but she's a superhuman. Good at what she does. Her talents would be wasted even more than they already are if they keep giving her shitty missions, she'll be able to do more good here. With us."

"Haven't you read her evaluation? A girl with raging anger issues and the ability to break concrete with her bare fists — sounds like a ticking time bomb to me."

It's a fair point. You're not exactly known for having good anger management.

But Lloyd knows that's not why he's making such a fuss.

"What's this really about? You've never been one to judge people based on some rumors."

Leon huffs. Everyone in the room knows what this is really about, but he still doesn't want to admit it.

"She despises me and I despise her."

It's a big fat lie. Both of them know it.

Okay, so maybe he dislikes you, but he still has feelings for you. He still gets jealous when he hears you've slept or flirted with others and he still wishes it was you he came home to every night.

And when he gets himself off, he thinks of the moments he shared with you.

It's stupid and embarrassing, if not perverted. He feels ashamed of it. Why can't he just move on like a normal person? He never imagined himself as the toxic ex who couldn't start new relationships, yet here he is. Embodying the things he can't stand. Story of his damn life.

"Leon, I value your opinion, you know that. But my decision here is final. You've both grown since the incident. It's been four years. It'll be fine."

As much as he doesn't want to accept it, he's not a child, so he stops expressing his frustration as easily as flipping a switch. Just like he does with his humanity on occasion. "Do the others know she's my wife?"

"No."

"Good. Keep it that way."

The others being the rest of the squad. Aside from you, their newest addition, apparently, there's four members.

At the top of the order is Lloyd. Thirty-six. He's the leader, makes the decisions, a great tactician and strategist. He's a man who tries to do the right thing, even if the means he uses to do so aren't always the best choice. He recruited everyone on the squad himself, not giving a damn what the higher-ups had to say about it. He's strong, and possibly the best friend you could wish for.

Also the only one of the group with no criminal history, which could be considered a bit alarming.

Leon is second-in-command. Twenty-eight. He's only become better at what he does over the years. He wears suits everywhere and he looks good doing it, not giving a shit whether he stands out compared to everyone else. People know not to mess with him, especially given his criminal history paired with the cold attitude. They either wanna be him or be with him.

Third in the chain of command is Kayoko Oda. Twenty-seven. Former lieutenant in the military, but found guilty of bribery, so she took the deal to be transferred to this squad in order to avoid getting a court martial. Real classy of the government to offer a deal like that, but she knows they're all just a bunch of scumbags at this point. She's too sweet compared to her ruthlessness in the field. Not to mention how pretty she is, with her long, black hair and slender figure.

Neal Heyward. The youngest recruit, being only twenty-three. Grew up in a shitty household with his father pissing off the wrong people. He ended up in a criminal syndicate somewhat similar to the mob, became an informant to the government at first, but it was too dangerous, so he became a special-agent-in-training instead. A feisty and hot-tempered blond boy with tan skin, extremely loyal to those he deems worthy and always up for having fun or going on an adventure.

That's the crew. They're a bit of a weird combination as a team, but Leon's grown more attached to them than he ever thought he would.

Sometimes they have missions together, but most of it is either solitary work or with one partner.

They're essentially the outcasts of the government. They're not registered as such, of course, but they're black ops agents. Part of a division of the agency they're not allowed to talk about, not even to certain other agents with a low clearance. The higher-ups named it Operation Blackout. A top-secret program, with even information regarding the members classified for outsiders.

To be blunt, it's a kill squad.

A small, elite group of agents who kill whoever the agency wants them to kill. Get rid of people, gain intel, scare people off, in extreme cases there's torture involved. The kind of stuff commoners wouldn't ever believe the government does.

People in the agency love to talk about them, but none of them actually gives a shit when it's about themselves. They're all fierce defenders of their fellow team members though. Talk shit about one of them and expect a solid punch in the face.

Yeah. Fun stuff.

So Leon doesn't know how to feel now that you're joining them. He feels uncomfortable thinking about the possibility of you telling his colleagues about the history you share, so he's determined to talk to you before that happens.

Yet he finds himself with his heart pounding in his chest when he stands in a corner, outside of the diner you're currently seated in. It's far from crowded, with maybe three or four other customers.

He bites his lip. God, his anxiety is going through the roof. Are you still wearing the ring? No, he highly doubts it. You've got no reason to.

It's not like he wears it on his finger. He'd get questioned for it, and it would be a little weird, considering you've been separated for the past few years. Unofficially, anyway.

Alright. Fuck this.

The bell rings when he opens the door, the sound of his expensive dress shoes tapping against the floor, yet you pay it no mind, facing him with your back. It's only when he stands next to your table that you do.

"You've been stirring that cappuccino for a solid three minutes now."

The grip on your spoon unconsciously tightens at the familiar voice, even more so when a figure appears in front of you.

The moment your eyes meet, your breath hitches in your throat, and he sits down on the seat across from you.

He looks good. Really good. Older. Different. His now slightly darker hair is still parted in curtains, and it's a bit longer, framing a strikingly attractive and mature set of features.

The way he leans back in the seat in front of you stirs up a certain feeling in your stomach. His broad shoulders and gained muscle wildly stand out, even if he is wearing a black, two-piece suit. The blazer of it is unbuttoned, and you can actually feel yourself having flashbacks when your eyes drop to the loose red tie around his neck.

That damn tie.

It reminds you of his outfit back in Raccoon, though this one appears to be more sleek, more expensive. You wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be a tailored suit. He's always had this rich vibe radiating off him, with his cool and smooth attitude and the confidence in his walk, as well as just his voice — just looking at him is something intoxicating.

He's intoxicating. Always has been.

But he doesn't need to know that.

"Leon." You greet him with zero enthusiasm in your tone and on your face, even though you can hardly believe that he's sitting right there. Right there, in front of you. "Spying on me?"

"Just observing is all." He sits there so still, piercing blue eyes almost making you uncomfortable. "It's been a while."

You tilt your head in utter disinterest. "It sure has."

Leon clenches his jaw for a split second because of how seemingly bitter you are. He hopes that you missed it, and you normally wouldn't, but you're so caught up in his damn eyes. It's the first time you've seen him in years.

"You look good." He says, not because it's polite, but because it's true. You seem more confident, older. He likes your look even more now that you're in your twenties.

You eye him up and down with your arms crossed. "Wish I could say the same."

He scoffs, the cocky smirk not once leaving his face, even if you did just insult him. "Aren't you charming."

"Never said I was."

Both of you are uncomfortable, bitter, with years of anger that seemed to have watered down now coming back up to the surface. It's the most tense both of you have felt in a while, and not in a good way.

Eye contact with Leon is intense. He's just sitting there with his eyes narrowed, arm leaning onto the back of the chair, so you speak. "Is there a reason why you're bothering me during my free time?"

"There is."

"Enlighten me."

Just when he's about to respond, a waitress comes up to your table, having spotted the newcomer talking to you. "Can I pour you some—"

"He's just fine, thank you."

The words leave your mouth bitterly, not taking your eyes off his for a second.

After the waitress has walked off with slight confusion painted across her face, he speaks up again. "The poor girl's just doing her job." He mocks you, but you refuse to participate in any of his games.

"Why are you here? Give me an answer or I'll leave."

Leon bites his lip, briefly raising his brow at your hostile tone. "What, didn't you hear? Simmons lost the majority of his supervision over you."

This is news for you. Is he for real? "What?"

"Don't look at me. Not my doing. I don't even know why. Maybe the higher-ups finally decided he was enough of an asshole to get rid of his authority." He exclaims before you can accuse him of anything. "So, turns out that my boss is also becoming your boss. We're gonna work together. On the same team. Daily."

"You gotta be kidding me."

"Wish I was." He retorts with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "Oh, and I hear you've been slacking off in training. They appointed me to be your new trainer too."

And your brows furrow even more when he looks all too smug about that. Is he fucking serious? He's going to train you? Out of all the people in this goddamn agency?

You flutter your eyelashes intentionally, feigning innocence, subtly changing the subject. "I gotta admit how funny it is that you're taking this job so seriously. Thought you hated the government."

"I do."

"Yet you got this high-class job regardless. They should know you're not exactly trustworthy."

"But you are?" He retorts. That makes you frown.

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"You did."

"What? When?"

"When you implied I didn't look good." He says with a smirk. "Liar."

You shake your head. "That ego of yours has only grown, huh?"

"My ego's always been like this, you know that."

"Unfortunately I do." You tell him with agitation, letting out a sigh. "What do you really want from me? I'm sure you could've told me this back at the facility."

"Believe it or not, there's certain people there I like to avoid."

"Well, I would've liked to avoid you for the rest of my life, but the universe seems to have something against me, because here you are."

Leon hates it. He hates how you're acting like you've got the upper hand, how you seem to be enjoying putting him down, how you seem to hate him so fucking much. Don't get him wrong, he likes it when someone can match up to him. Hell, that's partially why he felt so drawn to you four years ago.

But what you're doing here is just pissing him off.

It makes his blood boil, so when you throw one punch, he throws two. He doesn't play fair. He never has.

Leaning in, he glares at you. "Somebody has to make you useful, since you're so incapable of doing it yourself. Being all talk is kinda embarrassing."

Oh, that has you clenching your fists under the table. If you were still holding that coffee cup right now, it would've been shattered.

Your temper has become dangerously short over the last few years, and with your abilities, that's a bad combination. Simmons and his experiments broke you to an extent, leaving you with a whole list of issues to deal with on your own.

You would've killed him if it didn't have consequences.

And the thing is that no one, save for a small group of people, are aware of the cruel things they did to you. Leon certainly isn't a part of it.

Speaking of your former and apparently future partner in crime, he watches the mixed emotions hit you as you remain quiet, and he suddenly feels guilty about his harsh words.

He doesn't know what to say, so he pops a piece of gum into his mouth with his face still exuding indifference, standing up from the chair. "Training starts in two days. Make sure you're ready. I don't wanna waste my time on an amateur."

Your eyes widen in anger as you sit still in your seat, even after he's left the diner, rage washing over you.

Oh, he doesn't know what the fuck he's in for. That's for goddamn sure.

Not an hour later, you bust into the office of the man you despise, putting your hands on the edge of the desk. "I was just approached by Leon fucking Kennedy, because apparently, I'm being transferred. The hell is that about?"

Simmons only glares at you. "It wasn't my decision."

"Then what did you do to piss 'em off that badly? Huh? What the fuck did you do that they felt the need to downgrade you?"

"Watch your tone, or it's solitary for a week."

Normally, you'd back down, but now that he has less say over you than your new supervisor, you keep going. "You're not in charge of me anymore."

"It doesn't work like that. Do not think for a second the program is over, because it isn't." He bites back, infuriating you. "You'll be taken to a hidden base in Siberia for a week or two soon. I'll notify you when the time comes. For now, be on your guard. Do not disclose any classified information. You know the consequences."

Yeah, you know exactly what that means. It's the sole reason why you've put up with his shit the last few years, all the pain and hatred.

They'll hurt your loved ones if you don't.

It's beyond cruel, and it's why you have no option but to obey. Because they don't see you as anything but a weapon. Whether you go insane or not is something they clearly don't give a shit about.

You clench your teeth at his words, forcing yourself not to put his head through the damn wall. "Anything else I should know?"

"Report to the basement tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." You tell him before exiting the room, your blood boiling. You hate not being in control, you can't stand it.

What you don't know is that Simmons got downgraded because of your behavior. You've been seeing red recently — more than usual, at least — with your strength increasing somehow, which has resulted in you attacking some of the scientific experts in the room with you. The higher-ups heard of this and believed the amount of experiments needed to be cut down. That, and you needed to be put out in the field more.

That's why they transferred you to the black ops squad that's notorious for doing the dirty work of the agency. It's also why they want Leon to train you, because he never fails.

Your head hurts just thinking about it.

Seeing it's dinner time, you leave the facility to go home, worrying about what's more to come.

While you spend your evening in your bathtub in your apartment, Leon passes two bouncers — real big ones — on his way into the club.

To be honest, he isn't sure how he feels about strip clubs.

Sensual, loud music blasting through his ears, the dark yet neon lights creating a mysterious but sexy atmosphere.

It's one of the more expensive clubs around here, which he knows because he's visited plenty of them at this point — he's not proud of it, but he's not ashamed either.

It's also the club that has the biggest amount of dancers, so he likes the variety.

His routine there is usually the same. He sits second row, close enough to the stage to catch the attention of a dancer — which he often does, for some reason — after which he books a secluded space.

The girls always want to start out with a lap dance, he occasionally lets them. He always offers a pile of cash for a good time, though. Some of them decline. The majority of them says yes, because the more money, the better. He doesn't judge them for it. Whatever they choose, he's respectful about it.

He doesn't say much to them. They don't say much to him, save for the words they use for every client, and their cries when they get pounded into next week. They know most men don't exactly appreciate them prying into their personal lives or reasons for being in a place like this.

Tonight though, one of them is more on the curious side. Amber, he thinks her name was. Not her real name of course. Stage names are essential in an industry like this.

Her chest heaves, covered in a thin layer of sweat as she tries to regain her breath from the hard fucking she just received on the couch here. "So... what's a man like you doing in a place like this?"

Leon starts dressing himself after he's disposed of the condom. "What do you think?" He retorts, tucking himself back in his pants.

"I'm just saying, you're losing a shitload of money by spending it on this. Bet you could get a girl anywhere without paying 'em."

He doesn't want to come across as a narcissist here, but yes, he definitely could. It's just such a fuss and if there's one thing he despises, it's small talk.

So he does it the easy way, even if that means paying for it.

"You saying you would've fucked me for free?"

"Yes. Absolutely."

He chuckles at her honesty. "I'll take that as a compliment."

The girl leans back in the seat while he buttons his white dress shirt up again. "So what's her name?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks, knowing damn well what she's getting at.

"The girl. Her. Whoever she is. You're clearly in love with someone."

Damn. He should've figured it's becoming a little too obvious at this point. "Really? And what did you base that on?"

"Don't you know the girls talk?" She asks, the beading on her flashy lingerie swinging with her movement. "They said things about you."

"Such as?"

"That handsome and weirdly respectful gentleman who always goes for the same girls. Paying 'em for anything but his own pleasure."

"The same girls?"

The girl playfully rolls her eyes as she goes on to explain. "Same skin, same hair, same eyes. Doesn't take a genius to figure it out, ya know."

He shrugs his shoulders. "Maybe I just have a type."

"Damn, I really hope you're a better liar than that. C'mon now."

"Well, you're right about all that. I'm a little offended you don't believe I eat pussy for my own pleasure, though."

She giggles at that. She's young, he can see that much, but now that he's talking to her like this, he's afraid she looks older and in reality isn't a day over eighteen. Shit. He really hopes it isn't the case. That's the last thing he needs on his mind right now.

Amber waves with her hands. "You should call her. Get her flowers or something."

He scoffs at her suggestions, the way she so easily pries into his personal life with no shame. "Does your daddy know you're doing this every Friday night?"

"Poking at my daddy issues? Jokes on you, mister. I don't have 'em. Girls need to be stable for a job like this. Uni is just expensive."

"Let me guess, med school?"

"How'd you know?"

"You look the type."

"Hm. I can't make anything out of you, though."

"I work for the government. That's all you're getting."

"Sounds boring as shit."

That makes him grin a little. "Good luck with the rest of your shift." He leaves the suit vest off, opting for a much more casual look with just the white dress shirt. "Oh, and tell your boss he might wanna place that camera elsewhere if he wants to keep it a secret."

She looks a bit baffled at the statement, finding his smoothness kind of funny.

He doesn't usually go to the club on a Tuesday, but after the shit that happened with you today, he needed to get his rocks off. Which he successfully did — yet he can't shake off the annoying feeling in his chest.

None of them are you, after all.

He hates and loves you at the same time. How the hell is that even possible? It shouldn't be like this.

So when he lies in bed the same night, he can't sleep. Images of his near-death experience keep popping up in his mind, your voice as clear as day now that he's seen you and talked to you again.

His heart hurts when he remembers how you cried. Oh, that broke him. It still does.

And then he remembers Lloyd giving him that tape where he talks about you. He knew he should've told you, but he didn't want to — and now he wishes he had.

Who knows what his life would've looked like if they hadn't given you that tape. Maybe you'd be living with him, still wearing the ring he gave you—

His ring sits in the top drawer of his nightstand, and he takes it out to look at it. His exposed chest moves the slightest bit up and down with his steady breathing as his eyes linger on the gold.

He wonders if you've kept it.

God, he's so pathetic.

Telling himself to stop thinking about you, he puts the ring out of his sight again, running a hand through his hair. It's been years. Years. He's gotta stop being so desperate for you.

"Goddamnit, Doll." He quietly sighs to himself, even if his apartment is empty.

Who the hell is he, anyways?

When he sits in the conference room with his two colleagues two days later, he feels surprisingly relaxed. He's reading a report that came through this morning.

Yoko is on a call with her boyfriend in the corner while Neal talks about — well, he's not sure what. There's usually just a whole lot of nonsense coming out of his mouth.

"The General is joining our squad? Holy shit, are you serious?" Neal gasps in some weird form of excitement.

The General is the nickname some low-life agents gave you based on rumors they heard. Rumors about you being some one-woman-army with insane strength.

Well, the rumors are correct, of course, but that's beside the point.

Most people don't even know your actual name. You're not sure whether to be happy or put off with that information.

When you walk into the room, escorted by four agents, you let out a sigh at the sight of the three people in front of you, out of which you only recognize Leon. "Fucking hell. Get me out of these already, will you?"

One of the men next to you removes the heavy chains from your wrists.

"Why the hell were you chained?" The young blond asks, and you shrug your shoulders.

"Bad behavior."

"That's so vague."

"And who are you?" You retort with a hint of annoyance, because he looks about eighteen — so you're wondering why the hell a guy like that is involved with a task force like this.

And just like that, he jumps off the chair, standing in front of you. "Neal Heyward. In charge of this whole thing. Pleasure meeting you. These are my underlings, Kayoko and Leon. She can be really mean and he's just a real sarcastic son of a—"

"Sit down, Neal." Leon orders, not bothering to look up from the paperwork in his hands.

"I'm just trying to be nice to the lady here."

A fourth person walks in. He looks like he's the oldest of the group, which is confirmed when he introduces himself as Lloyd Smith, someone you happen to know as a good acquaintance of the President himself.

He briefly introduces you to everyone, including Leon — as if you didn't know him already — before he moves on to the plans for the day.

"Yoko and Neal, you'll be taking this case, considering you've already done the research on it. And you two," he says while pointing at you and Leon, "will be training field skills for today. I'll come by to judge after I'm done with some paperwork. Unfortunately, I need to do a solid evaluation on your skills on paper, so you get the point."

Nodding at the man's words, you agree silently. You've been mostly quiet so far.

"Can we watch too?" Neal interrupts, clearly awfully excited about you being the newcomer here. "I mean, I just wanna know if the rumors are true—"

"Shut up." Leon and Lloyd say simultaneously, which has the kid rolling his eyes.

"Geez, I'm just getting it from all sides today, aren't I?"

The woman with the dark hair puts her arm around him. "Enough with the pouting. You're with me today!"

"Kill me now." He whines in response, earning a flick to the forehead from her, which makes you snort.

You do find it pretty funny that the guy is part of the most elite black ops squad in probably the whole agency, yet he acts like some chaotic teenager. Looks like one too.

To be fair, they all seem a little weird.

Now that the fake-teen and the pretty lady have gone out, you're left in the room with Leon and Lloyd. And there's clearly something they want to discuss, given their behavior.

A sigh rolls past your lips. "Alright, spit it out."

Leon leans back in his seat, your eyes briefly lingering on his navy blue suit before you turn to the man in charge. He presses his lips together. "Before we get started, I want to make something clear. It was my idea to put you on this squad, and I still stand by it, regardless of your reputation."

"And what is my reputation, exactly? Tends to get mixed up due to all these twig bitches talking shit about me behind my back."

The man remains cool under your glare. "It differs. Some say you're just reserved or angry, others go as far as to call you psychotic. To be completely honest, I don't care if you're either. All I care about is your dedication to this program."

"Be more specific. I hate it when people beat around the bush."

"Alright. You're unstable and unreliable. How's that for specific?"

"It's solid."

"I'm glad." He retorts in the most sarcastic voice he's used so far. "I can trust Leon, I can trust Kayoko and I can trust Neal. They have their own flaws and issues, but I don't judge them for any of it — because they get the job done. You are new. I don't know you and I have heard many things about you, some good, some bad. When you're on the job, you do as you're told and behave as you should be."

"What if I don't?"

He doesn't hesitate for a second to give you an answer. "There's a good chance my superiors will have you killed."

Oh. You hadn't seen that coming.

The tension in the room is palpable. You force yourself to maintain a cold exterior, making sure they won't be able to spot a single insecurity. "Fine. On one condition."

"What?"

"Get Derek Simmons off my back as much as you can and delay my trip to Siberia for as much as possible."

That makes both men frown, because neither of them even knew you had a trip planned. You're clearly not planning on telling them why you don't want to go either, so that leaves them wondering too.

"That's two conditions." Leon points out under his breath, and you glare at him.

"Fuck off, Kennedy."

Leon makes a mental note to keep your conditions in mind, and Lloyd feels that he's made his point more than clear, so he lets it rest for now. "Alright. I'll do what I can. Now, you two should go train. I'll be in my office if you need me."

He leaves the room with a blue folder in hand, and a dreadful silence emerges in the room when it's just you and the man you thoroughly dislike.

Leon bites his lip before speaking up. "Why do you hate Simmons so much?"

"You're saying you don't?"

"No. I would've busted his head in at this point if he weren't a government official. I'm just curious why you hate him so much."

"I have my reasons. Not gonna share them with you."

"Naturally." He sighs, and you feel desperate to change the subject.

"I assume you haven't told them about our past?" God, just bringing it up makes your heart pound in your chest.

"No, I haven't told them we dated. Lloyd knows because he saw both our files."

"We're still married, though."

"On paper."

"Yeah, dipshit, that's how marriage works."

"Right. Let me rephrase that." He sarcastically responds. "We're married in name only."

"That sounds about right."

"I know it does."

With a scoff, you stand up from your chair. "Leave it to you to be an ass about everything."

"Funny you should mention ass—"

"Shut the fuck up."

"You do realize I'm your superior now, don't you?"

"You do realize I don't care, right?"

"I do. But don't worry." He moves to stand up, towering over you with his tall frame. "I'll whip you into submission."

That makes you clench your teeth, but you don't back down. You never will. You let out a small giggle of genuine excitement, because boy does Leon Kennedy know how to get your blood pumping. "Go ahead. Try it. Would hate to see your pretty face ruined when I beat you to a pulp, though."

The power dynamic between you is shifting constantly, mostly because you've become so awfully similar to one another — both of you have changed with time, and it might play out in a way neither of you are expecting.

Notes:

first chapter of the sequel. not feeling too happy with this one but i felt a lack of inspiration, setting it all in motion was more difficult than i thought. i do have quite some things planned for later chapters though.

this chapter was more focused on leon, next one will be focusing more on reader. thank you guys all so much for your kind words on the past chapter(s) 3 they truly motivate me to write!

Chapter 24: Act II - 2. The Lovers That Went Wrong

Summary:

You and Leon have your first training session together.

Notes:

apologies for the long wait! unfortunately this chapter is a bit short but i had some major writer's block here and i just wanna get to the good stuff. hope you guys enjoy this one nonetheless.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

There's truly nothing worse in life than pain. Whether it's physical or emotional — it all hurts. It all leaves scars, even if you can't see them.

They've decided to go with electricity today. With several wires attached to your bare skin, your knuckles whiten and lips press together when you try your best to handle it.

It all starts out fine. You can always handle it easily in the beginning. Then they turn the voltage up, the meter going higher and higher until you begin to struggle. You can take much more than the average human being, but you still feel the pain.

And they always try to push your limits. A little more, just a little more, every time. It's an effective method, sure. But the consequences that come with it are beyond damaging.

Your agonizing screams echo through the walls of the basement. It's a well-hidden bunker close to the CIA Headquarters, yet the place looks more like some Victorian mental hospital on the inside. The bland walls and flickering lights certainly add to it.

"Stop! Just stop! I can't... just stop." You cry out, the layer of sweat visible on your forehead. God, you feel like you're going to throw up.

The three people monitoring you closely have straight faces while you're fighting not to tear your own head off from the pain. You don't understand how they have it in them.

Simmons usually watches you from behind the glass. You're convinced he likes seeing you in pain, the bastard. You hate him with everything you have.

He walks in, causing the person in charge of the amount of voltage to turn it down, and you can finally breathe properly. Your body twitches slightly from the electricity, lips parted as you regain your breath.

"You're weaker today."

"Haven't slept." You mention with a glare on your face, just because you hate seeing his. Especially up close.

You're unaware that the higher-ups have come to watch today, but Simmons is, and he's determined to show off your high pain tolerance to them, not knowing it's going to cause him more harm than good.

As you struggle to keep your head up from exhaustion, he lifts your chin up. "You can handle it just fine. Don't act like this."

"Just stop already, you're not getting anywhere with... any of this."

"It's pathetic. I thought you were well on your way to reach your full potential, but I guess I was wrong." He leans down, a condescending grin on his face as his brief, nasty laughter rips through your ears. "You could've been a god if you weren't such a weakling."

Oh, it's cruel of him. He manipulates you so easily, which you're more than aware of, and maybe it wouldn't get to you if you were in a normal, healthy state of mind — but you're not, and you both know it.

He's been manipulating you like this from the start. He pushes you to be colder, tougher, harder, stronger. You know exactly what he's doing, but you're affected by his words nonetheless.

Because you want to be strong. No, scratch that, you want to be the strongest. The best. Number one. You want to be and feel powerful, in control. He knows there's nothing you hate more than feeling weak, and with your anger issues, he plays you like a fiddle. Time and again.

And it worked really well for him in the beginning. You did push yourself to take more and more pain, to fight harder and be tougher.

But everything that's happened has changed you. How could it not? You may as well consider it torture, and it's been going on weekly since you began working for them.

Simmons didn't want you to get anything like a therapist or a mental health professional whatsoever, ignoring the advice of the woman who's been watching your behavior closely on a daily basis. She's been telling the man you've slowly been losing it, bit by bit.

He's created a monster, one he can't control anymore.

He walks away from you, gesturing for the experiment to continue once more, and you cry out immediately when they show you no mercy.

It doesn't even hurt that bad, but your emotions take over, and you can't do anything about it.

How could you not? It's the people standing here, in this room and behind the glass, that have ruined you in every way possible. They hurt you time and again, getting you as close to death as possible before pulling you back.

You're nothing but an object to them.

Normally, you sit here in numbness, but today, you can't help the tears streaming down your cheeks.

Once you see one of them getting closer to you with a needle in their hand, you panic. "No, no, don't put me in solitary, please—"

Breaking loose from the restrains attached to the seat, you attack them out of fear, crying as you deal a blow with your fist to their upper body.

The person cries out because you caused their shoulder to be dislocated. You flinch from the sudden scream of pain, crawling back to the corner of the room, as if you could hide there.

Yet the needle with the tranquilizer gets inserted into your neck anyways, and you lose consciousness, unable to fight back.

It's not the first time you've injured someone during these experiment sessions. Just a few weeks ago, you blinded a man in his left eye, but you didn't mean to — you just wanted the pain to stop. Simmons tried to cover it up, but failed.

You didn't choose this life. You're not doing this voluntarily — you have to suffer through everything you're given because they'll hurt your loved ones if you don't. It's cruel, but you have to. There's no way out.

You're not beyond saving. All you need is a better work environment, to be surrounded by people who won't hurt you or threaten you, who will treat you like an actual person instead of a weapon.

That, and a therapist. Because your sanity is hanging by a thread at this point.

And just like that, the higher-ups had seen enough. The sight of you hurting one of the scientists for a second time convinced them that Simmons wasn't the right supervisor for you, and that's how you ended up getting transferred to Lloyd Smith's task force.

But with Leon on the same team, you're not exactly being stimulated to become a better version of yourself. You both used to bring out the best in each other — now it's the exact opposite.

And you have your own agenda now. No one needs to know what you're up to, especially not him.

He can't catch you. Who knows what he'll do with the things he'll discover?

Leon finding out could possibly mean your own execution, so you have to keep him at a safe distance.

Though that's going to be difficult, considering he's not only your colleague and trainer — he's higher up in the chain of command in your squad, so that sucks. You can't believe they placed you at the fucking bottom with the chaotic blond guy.

You find yourself in the open air, in a secluded area just outside of the offices you came from. It's a modern addition to the headquarters, built specifically as a training area. Certain people — those with proper clearance — are able to watch from behind the glass, so you don't exactly have all the privacy in the world here, but that's alright.

Technically the plan was for Leon to train you today, but he was unexpectedly called in for a mission of high priority, so you were left with some guy who isn't on the team — you don't even remember his name — and you sparred with him first.

Then he began to criticize you for your technique, but what really took the cake was him saying you shouldn't hold back.

Hey, in all fairness, he wanted to you to fight him with more power, so you did. It's like asking to get knocked out.

Which you did, with a gentle punch to his face.

After which you walk over to Lloyd with a glare. "Can't you give me a better opponent?"

"We don't have any other super-humans working for us, I'm afraid, so no. You'll have to wait for Leon to get back."

"How about you?" You asked, leaning against the glass with the corners of your mouth turned upwards. "I'm sure you're better than... that."

You wave with your hands towards the knocked-out agent on the grass, and the man next to you sighs, removing the pair of glasses sitting on his nose. "I am. The answer is still no."

He doesn't smile often, that new supervisor of yours. He's good-looking though. Out of boredom and curiosity, you try to get to know him a little better. "You seem awfully dedicated to your job."

"I am."

"Why though?" You ask, shrugging your shoulders. "You don't exactly seem like the type to recruit and work with criminals."

"And what did you base that on?"

Narrowing your eyes, you move to sit down on the bench next to him. "I think you like the control you have, and you want order. Don't tell me I'm wrong, you know I'm not."

Lloyd nods at you. "It's true. I do highly value rules and order, but... I value loyalty more. That stands above all else." He tilts his head to the side. "And I've successfully recruited a few people who have been able to give me that."

It makes you frown. "How do you know they won't screw you over?"

"Why would they? I'm the one who's keeping them from going to prison."

"Right." You slowly answer, unsure of what to say at this point.

The man folds his hands together, saying your name before he begins to talk. "I never asked you this, but... do you want to be on this team?"

Whatever you expected, it wasn't that. "What I want doesn't matter. I'm on the squad, whether I like it or not."

"I know. That's not what I asked you though."

Maintaining your cold attitude, you shrug your shoulders as you give your answer. "Nobody gives a shit about what I want. That's all you're getting from me."

He scoffs to himself as he adjusts one of his sleeves. "I expected you to be harder to read."

Your face turns to a scowl. "What are you talking about?"

"Everybody wants something for themselves, as you just mentioned." He says, turning his face to you. "Something we need... to keep us from losing it."

"And you've figured out what that something is for me, huh?" You ask rhetorically, nodding your head as you lean backwards. "Well, go on, tell me."

"You like power. I can sense your ambition from a mile away. You want to be number one — but there's something you want even more." He presses his lips together for a moment. "You want freedom."

Goosebumps erupt on your skin when he says the word — because it's true. The guy has known you for a single damn day and he's already figured you out. Shit, is it really that obvious?

You're a weapon — just property of the government. You're fucking over it, you're done with people shamelessly taking control of you and using you for their own gain, as if you're some mindless robot who will do whatever they tell you to. It's sickening and makes you want to rip your hair out of your head.

And that hidden agenda of yours? That is what's going to get you the freedom you deserve.

You'll get rid of every person on this damn team if that's what it takes. One by one.

Well, maybe not all of them.

But you're not there yet. You'll know when the time comes. For now, you have to focus on getting through the day, which is passing by agonizingly slow.

September is nice. Fall has always been your favorite season. You love the gloomy weather, the rainy days and the leaves in the trees turning red.

Summer is too warm, too focused on getting social with others, winter is usually too cold and depressing, spring comes with hay fever and people constantly mentioning 'how nice the weather is today'.

Leon thinks the same as you on that one. The only thing he dislikes about the fall is his birthday in October. He's never liked celebrating his birthday — because what the fuck is there to celebrate?

As a train of thoughts plagues his mind, he returns to the facility, his brows furrowed. Lloyd's office appears empty, so he figures he must've gone to the training grounds.

When he arrives, he sees you sitting next to his superior on a bench. It's the calmest he's seen you so far, which is no surprise to him.

Lloyd is a calm man himself. He's diligent, well-spoken, patient, a great observer and overall just very kind. He knows what methods to use for each individual, and he's figured them out with you too, it seems.

He's one of the few people Leon would give his life for.

It's something he never imagined would happen. Forming a friendship with the man who chased him for so long. In a certain way, he still finds it odd that he landed a job at the CIA compared to his life before it all.

Everything changed when he met you, and yet he had no idea.

Now that you're back in his life, he can feel the rushes of adrenaline he gets when he sees your face, the familiar feeling rising in his stomach again — and he doesn't know how to deal with it. It's constantly just there, which is annoying as shit, so he should be avoiding you.

Keyword being 'should'.

Because he won't. Because as much of a bitch you're being to him, and as much of an asshole he is to you, your company is something he yearns for.

In the dressing room, he takes off his suit and changes into a more practical attire, considering he needs to start his training with you now.

You're still sitting on that bench when Leon joins you, pointing at the man still out cold on the field. "Were you just planning on leaving him here like this?"

"Since when do you give a shit about some stranger's well-being?"

"I don't. I'm asking because he's in the way."

The response makes you snort. That's the Leon you know, all right.

And just like that, the two of you begin training.

Leon stands in front of you without a shirt on, in a pair of black sweatpants and the leather fingerless gloves he likes to wear for combat, apparently.

There's barely any sweat to be detected on his body, as if sparring is as easy as drawing his next breath. Hell, it probably is for him. He's in the best shape he's ever been — well, physically, at least.

And boy do you see that. You figured he'd gotten more athletic with his tailored shirts fitting his upper body perfectly, but actually seeing what's underneath it is something else.

It's hard to take your eyes off his toned chest, flexing biceps and defined back. Then there's a few scars here and there, and you can't help but wonder where he got those.

Speaking of scars, the one William gave you is still there, across your cheek, but you don't really mind it anymore. It's a part of you now and you've gotten used to seeing it.

Besides, it makes you look kind of badass.

And you can cover most of it with with a few solid layers of makeup if you really want to.

Leon thinks you pull off the scar well. Really adds to the whole stone-cold bitch vibe you seem to be going for nowadays.

But hey, at least you're still hot.

He forces himself not to laugh at his own thoughts. But it doesn't make it any less true. You look great in the tight, black leggings and the long-sleeved white crop top paired with the black sports bra underneath.

He silently enjoys it every single time he gets to put his hands on your body, subtly digging his fingers into your skin whenever he gets the opportunity.

And you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it. Because you do. A lot.

As you've previously stated, you have to keep that distance between you — but Leon has made it clear that keeping distance between you is his very least priority.

Or not a priority at all, whatsoever.

Right now, your bodies are close. Hot and sweaty, each of you breathing heavier than usual.

It's not what it may sound like, though. Don't kid yourself.

As you make progress, you both feel like what you're doing is less sparring and more of actual fighting. Your punches grow harder, he blocks and dodges faster.

You're not just bored — you want to release some of your energy. Regular sparring is as easy as breathing, you want more.

"Oh, come on — are we gonna do this shit all day?"

"He's clearly not done with observing your skills. Not my fault." Leon responds, pointing to your new boss still seated on the bench, not taking his eyes off you both.

"These aren't my skills. This is me being nice. I'm barely touching you, not to mention pulling my punches."

He sighs. "I'll get a fender."

He walks off, his back now facing you, but you have other ideas. "What? Too much of a pussy to take a few punches from a girl? Thought you out of all people would be different." You speak, provoking him on purpose. "That is, of course, unless you're scared to be beaten for once."

Leon stops dead in his tracks, before he turns around. "Scared? Of you? That's gotta be a joke."

"Then fight me. I've been wanting to release some anger, but my supervisor here keeps giving me the shittiest fucking opponents. Who knows, maybe you're somewhat worthy."

"Cute." He says sarcastically, getting back to you. "I won't hold back, though."

"Sure. I'll fuck you up either way."

The agent smirks just a little at your comment as you both get into position.

While you may have super strength, you most certainly don't have super speed — which is something that Leon does seem to have, somehow.

Sure, you're a well-trained fighter, but the speed and agility he's got in that body of his is on another level. You're convinced he was born to do a job like this, no wonder everyone speaks so highly of his skills.

You just won't tell him that out loud.

And the way he's so fucking smug about it to you — it's beyond frustrating. You're not someone who gets jealous easily, absolutely not, but you are when it comes to him. His abilities, his reputation, the treatment he gets. It gets under your skin.

You're a fucking superhuman and he still has the ability to defeat you. You endure plain torture on a weekly basis while he got off scot-free. He's pretty much the closest to a sociopathic individual you've ever met in your life, but you are the one with issues.

He took those bullets for you and yet you're the one who died.

You're merely a shell of the person you once were. It's hard to even remember what a normal life feels like.

It's not fucking fair — so you're gonna hit him where it hurts. Physically. For now, at least.

You don't know how much time has passed when pretty much the whole facility is watching from behind the glass.

Neither of you are holding back anymore, and your nose has been bleeding for a while now, even tasting some blood in your mouth at this point, yet it doesn't wipe the nearly innocent smile off your face.

Because weirdly enough, you enjoy this.

Maybe it's the rush of adrenaline, maybe it's spouting all kinds of insults at him and seeing how it clearly affects him. Maybe it's because you feel like you're going absolutely insane and finally get to let it all out.

Maybe it's because you finally get to break the cold asshole that broke you not once, but twice in the first place.

He's bleeding a lot — so are you — but you don't care. He's panting, maybe even bleeding internally at this point, yet you make your way over to him with a fake pout. "Leon... I'm not done yet."

No matter how much pain he's in, he won't show it to you. He fucking won't. "Neither am I."

You're strong. Way too strong for any human being to take on. That's why he has to rely on his other strong points. Speed, agility, weapons.

"I like the way you fight. You're good." You tell him in all seriousness before shrugging your shoulders. "But not good enough to beat me."

He spits a mixture of blood and saliva onto the grass, feeling his jaw ache. He's lucky you haven't knocked out any of his teeth yet. "You sure about that?"

It's a bold move of his to perform, but he manages to twist your arms, stepping on your ankle, which makes you yelp out in pain. "Mother—"

"Your moves are too slow. They're fine for others, not for me. There's no follow-ups in your moves, you just hit and kick where you feel like it." He judges, his one free hand on your chin, which makes your eyes darken. "And you need to put your feelings aside. They're gonna get you killed."

Your face inches closer to his, just barely each second, and he carefully assesses you but lets you regardless. Your voice is hushed and calm. "You know who's gonna get killed?"

A scowl appears on his face where a smirk appears on yours.

He doesn't know what you're talking about. You could be talking about him, or anyone else — he doesn't know what's going on for once, and that frightens him a bit.

His hand moves to your bra strap, briefly looking down at it as his finger slides underneath, touching your warm skin. His tone is just as quiet as yours, just as confident. "Tell me."

"Everyone standing in my way." You respond, having a hard time focusing when his face is this close to yours. "If I go down, you're going with me."

He doesn't even move the slightest bit, as he simply appears to be taking in your appearance, but you should know better at this point.

That feeling of his gun against your skin is something you should see coming now.

He has you in his hold, faces inches away from the other while you're both breathing heavily. "I win." He breathes out while the barrel of his magnum rests against your temple.

"Good job. Played me like you always do." Your angry eyes soften into this depressing indifference, a strange but quick transition. "Go on. Shoot."

Of course he won't shoot. He loves you, so he could never do that to you.

But the way you're responding to this is odd. You're so cold, you just don't care — and all of that paired with your strange behavior, he knows you're not doing well.

The adrenaline rush seems to be fading just as quickly as it came. You look sad now, and he feels sick to his stomach.

"Get some rest. You look tired." He says to you before letting you go and walking off.

The cold air hits you harder now, as you're left alone on the field, so you sit down on the grass, moving your hand through your hair while still bleeding out.

It's exhausting. It's all so goddamn exhausting.

Sudden footsteps come up from behind you, and you flinch when a hand touches your shoulder. "You look terrible, kid."

"I feel terrible."

"I know. I can tell."

He hands you his handkerchief, which you accept. "Let me guess — you've lost all hope for me as a member of the team?"

Lloyd releases a sigh. "No. On the contrary. I think you've got great potential."

Knitting your eyebrows together, you look up at him in disbelief. "What?"

"You're talented. You've got great strength and skill. You're driven."

"I couldn't beat him, though."

"No, because what he said was true." He cuts in, narrowing his eyes. "Your emotions need to be kept in check. Then you'll have that control you clearly want, and after that, you can have that one thing you yearn for. Isn't that what you want?"

"Well, genius, how do you propose I do that? I'm human, after all. I feel shit. We're not all able to just... turn it off like a switch."

"I know you two share your history, I do. But Leon is a good teacher, and if you both put aside your differences, I believe you'll make a good team." He mentions, putting one hand into his pocket. "Keep in mind that all you need to have is a work relationship. Other than that, you're free to do whatever you want. Try not to beat him up too much, though, will you?"

The last part makes you chuckle softly, and your new supervisor is glad to see you still have a smile in you. He sees you as something more than just a weapon, but you have yet to realize that.

Your trust issues are rooted too deep to put your faith in someone new as of right now.

"He's a difficult man to deal with." You mumble, but it's loud enough for him to hear.

"I know. I'm the one who brought him in." He mentions. "You get the rest of the day off. Go home, catch some sleep. You do look tired."

After squeezing your shoulder for a second, he returns to his office, and you're left alone on the field.

And that's when you exhale.

You find it difficult to deal with what you do and don't feel. From your raging anger issues to your crippling depression. It all comes and goes in waves and it drives you insane.

You're no psychopath — it'd all be so much easier if you were.

But for once, you decide to shake off your thoughts and do as you're told, so you spend your night in the comfort of your apartment, trying to get peace of mind.

Leon, on the other hand, walks up to his two colleagues sitting at their table in the bar. He's had better days, considering the wounds you inflicted are very much visible.

"Look who it is!" Neal says cheerfully when he sits down.

"Dear God, you look awful." Yoko comments with genuine concern in her voice, because yes, he does look kind of awful.

"Nothing I can't handle." He shrugs, ordering a glass of whiskey when a waitress walks past him. He touches the bruise on his cheek and hisses at the feeling. Damn, maybe he should've stayed home tonight.

"I heard she straight-up assaulted you." The young man across from him chuckles. "Didn't think it would he this bad, though."

"I still beat her."

Yoko snorts at his words. "Yeah, everyone's talking about it. Great job, Leon. You're now famous for hitting a girl square in the face."

"Do you people not know what the word 'training' means?"

Leon's beyond lucky the two of them didn't watch today. They would know you and him shared some kind of history together if they had seen it all go down, for sure.

While Neal tries to get the attention of one of the waiters, the woman next to him gently puts her hand on top of his. "You look upset. Everything okay?"

She's one of the few people he can truly rely on. Nothing has ever happened between them romantically, and while they have good chemistry, neither of them believe they could ever be something more than friends.

Besides, they both have feelings for other people.

She's got a mad crush on their boss, but Lloyd being the man with the strangest duality of man on the planet, doesn't see it. That's why she believes her feelings are one-sided.

It's a bit sad, really, but not Leon's mess to get involved with. He's got his own issues.

He just can't stop thinking about what you said. Killing everyone in your way... what does that even mean? What the hell have you been up to while you were separated?

And more importantly, what are you up to right now?

Whatever it is, he won't let it rest. If you're up to no good and purposefully hiding it from him, he knows it's got to be important.

It looks like the roles are reversed this time — but as usual, when it comes to you, it intrigues him. He's gonna find out about your little secret, no matter the cost.

So he smiles to his dear friend and colleague, giving her a fake smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. You know me."

Notes:

aaand that's chapter two. writing the sequel is harder than i expected because i chose not to base it on a game like before — so if you guys have any 'scene-suggestions', please don't hesitate to drop them in the comments.

also, i already put this question up on wattpad, but i'm gonna ask it here too; in one of the future chapters, i'm including a short sex scene with reader and someone other than leon. i wrote it as a wlw piece bc it felt like a better fit for some reason, but now i'm hesitant to put it in bc i want reader to be as inclusive as possible, in this case regarding sexuality. how do y'all feel about this?

anyways thank you all for the support, once again please consider buying me a ko-fi! :) (much love to the few readers who have already 333)

Chapter 25: Act II - 3. Beginning of the Descent

Summary:

Leon discovers crucial information with the help of someone from the past.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

"Listen. I just really don't think I need another workout today."

"Neal, it's mandatory."

"No, look — I go up and down the stairs in my house and I'm vibrating like the Nokia 1150. I cannot handle more than that right now. I'm not in the right... state of mind."

"Did you do drugs at breakfast or something?"

"What? No."

"You sound high."

"This is what I sound like on a regular day. If I was high, trust me, you'd know."

"Kid, do me a favor here and shut the hell up. It's eight in the morning and I do not have the energy to listen to your shit."

His young colleague looks his way with a frown of genuine confusion. "What's gotten into you? Thought you didn't do hangovers."

Leon huffs, rubbing his eye with his finger, the silver ring gleaming in the lights of the conference room. "I don't have a hangover."

"Right. Whatever you say."

Truth is, he really doesn't have one. He's always handled his liquor well, and last night was no different, but he had a shit night's sleep, and he's just not feeling it today. The week has been dreadfully long, even if he doesn't necessarily dislike working.

It's Friday, close to the weekend, and he's having dinner with Sarah tonight. It's been a while since they've met up. She's twenty-one as of now, currently chasing a degree in Biology at Princeton, and now that he's working for the CIA, they both have cramped agendas.

It's fine, though. He's proud of his sister, he knows she works hard, which is why he's paying for her tuition.

When she moved into her college dorm, both of them knew figuring out where Sherry was going to live was gonna be an issue. The girl had lived with Sarah ever since Leon dropped her off after the Raccoon City incident.

Leon couldn't take her in. He was off working for long days, with his job being unpredictable and everything but the ordinary nine-to-five. Being too young to live on her own, Leon knew he had to find a new home for her — and ironically, he managed to arrange that she could live with his former football coach, who was his only real father figure growing up.

Both Leon and Sarah still visit her regularly, sometimes she comes over, and she got a fresh start living elsewhere.

Happy ending, right?

Well, not so much. Because he's stuck with the absolute menace that is his wife.

You.

He doesn't enjoy fighting with you. At all. He doesn't want to, but you certainly seem to. Testing him on a daily basis, bickering with him over the slightest things.

He guesses the things people say about married life is true. Just not in the way he expected.

It's all just... weird. His life is so fucking weird.

He doesn't know what to do about it.

And your state of mind is no better. You don't want to bicker all the time either, but you need to keep a certain distance between you.

Besides, as long as you keep being friendly with Lloyd, you should be fine. He's the one making the decisions, after all. And he's the one keeping you away from Simmons for as much as possible, which you feel slightly cynical about, but still.

Not that it's hard to be friends with the man. He's been nothing but kind to you so far, though you still don't trust him. Not completely. You find it hard to believe he wants nothing more from you other than you just doing your job.

He's a bit of a mystery. But you have bigger issues to deal with than to worry about him.

Like your husband, for example.

Because Leon Kennedy is a real asshole.

He's also awfully addicting, for some reason.

The way he holds himself, the way he looks at you, the way he talks, the way he seems to be the fucking ace at everything.

Not to mention he now knows just how to twist his facial features to have all the girls screaming and crying in puddles of their own tears. It's ridiculous.

You hate how much you still love looking at his handsome face. He's still always so well-dressed, in his expensive suits. He seems to have a variety of colors in his closet, such as dark blue, emerald green, grey and black. They're all sleek and tailored, usually without a jacket, and he looks damn good in them.

You're not the only one who's noticed — it's not just the whole facility, it's pretty much the whole organization — no, scratch that, everyone who knows him. He has an excellent reputation in terms of skill and agility, and people can't get enough of talking about his crazy good looks.

It makes you feel sick.

Of course you don't want to go back to being with him, of course not — wow, you're a terrible liar, truly — but you see red at the idea of him with another woman.

Then again, you see red all the time.

You find yourself sitting in the cafeteria, which is a big hall that looks like the entrance of a hospital for no reason in particular.

"So, how're you holding up?" Helena asks you, sitting down before putting a white cup of coffee in front of you.

You met her a couple months ago. She's a good agent, a hard worker, aspiring to work for the Secret Service in the future. She's also one of the few people you can stand.

"Been better."

"You look a little pale."

"Yeah, I've got this headache that comes and goes." You speak as the headache in question walks across the room, talking to three female colleagues who approached him about a minute ago.

Helena raises her brow and turns to look at whatever you're looking at — only to recognize the handsome agent across the room. "Leon Kennedy being the headache?"

"Unfortunately."

"Wow. What'd you do to him?"

Her question is what makes you turn your head back to her with furrowed brows. "Why are you assuming I did something?"

"Because from what I've heard, he's a real gentleman. Nice guy. Solid sense of humor."

"For the record, I have a great sense of humor. And I'm nice too."

"Yes, but from what I can see, he doesn't have raging anger issues."

"Yeah, well, you'd be surprised. He can be a real asshole."

"What happened between you two?"

Clenching your jaw, images of your... relationship flash before your eyes. "Nothing worth discussing."

You turn your head, attempting to drown out the chatter behind you by taking another sip of your coffee, that is until you feel a hand on your shoulder.

"What're you sulking about, huh?"

His voice makes a smile grow on your face, which is rare nowadays. You turn around in the chair, recognizing the bulky man that matches the familiar voice. "Chris! When did you get back?"

"Few hours ago. Had to file in some reports first."

Across the hall, Leon spots you putting your arms around Chris, and he can feel his heart sinking right then and there.

His relationship with the guy is complicated. Let's just say the Redfields aren't very fond of people with a highly questionable moral compass. He's only tried to kill one of them though.

But he and him have worked together, and they both know the other is competent and highly skilled in their own way. Chris has more raw strength whereas Leon is faster.

And therefore better — but he'll keep that last part to himself.

But you seem to be all sweet on the big man, which gets him royally pissed off. His legs are already moving before he can even comprehend it, and just like that, he joins your little gathering.

"Redfield. It's been a while."

The dark-haired man smiles when he greets him. "Leon. How have you been?"

"Just fine. Heard you guys were chasing something in Eastern Europe."

"Yeah, but we couldn't find anything. Probably should've seen it coming, but it was worth a shot."

You're more than a little annoyed, forced to listen to the small talk between your ex and your good friend. You weren't even aware they knew one another, let alone got along well.

Which is weird, given that they're complete opposites.

You highly doubt Chris knows about the history between Leon and Claire, because he wouldn't be this kind if he knew the guy tried to kill his beloved sister — twice.

Speaking of Claire, you haven't seen her in a long time.

Not that you mind. The way you and her parted wasn't on the best of terms.

Leon then turns to the two ladies sitting at the table, one of them being you. "Helena, right?"

He stretches out his hand, and your colleague shakes it with a kind smile on her face. "Yes. It's nice to meet you, Agent Kennedy."

"Please, just call me Leon." He tells her before his eyes move to lock with yours. "You look like shit, Princess."

Both Helena and Chris are surprised with the nickname Leon uses to refer to you as. Chris points at the pair of you. "You two know each other?"

Ha. If only he knew.

"Colleagues. We also train together." Leon replies, and you nod so enthusiastically that everyone here can tell it's sarcasm.

"Oh, yeah. We're one hell of a team, even if he is a pain in my ass." You add somewhat sarcastically, standing up from your seat. "Well, I have places to be and work to do. Chris, text me so we can catch up over drinks, alright?"

And just because you feel like it, you hug him again, purposefully doing it in front of your ex, because he can go fuck himself.

Leon clenches his fist at the sight of your hands moving across the man's biceps, which seems to take forever. You know exactly what you're doing here, making him jealous like this.

Yet there's absolutely no sign of his jealousy when you release Chris or when you walk out of the room. He covers his true feelings well, but fucking hell does it get on his nerves.

Leaving Helena and Chris, he decides to go off to the gym and blow off some steam.

It's difficult to focus when you're constantly on his mind. He tries to force his anger and jealousy onto the punching bag in front of him, but it's useless.

Maybe he should just try to get some sleep or something. He hasn't been this emotionally stressed in a long time.

Now he stands in the men's locker room, changing back into his work clothes.

As he puts his pants on, his phone rings. It's an unknown number, so he picks up hesitantly. "Kennedy."

"Hey, stranger."

The familiar voice at the other end of the line has him raising his brow. "You're the last person I expected to call me."

"Yeah, I know. I'm not just calling for no reason, though. Are you free today?"

Checking the expensive watch on his wrist, he tilts his head. "At two, yeah. Why?"

"Great. Can you meet me at the café by the library?"

"Claire Redfield, are you asking me out?"

"In your dreams. You're not even close to my type."

"Good. Would hate to bruise your ego by rejecting you."

The girl rolls her eyes, scoffing. "I gotta go. See you there."

He removes the flip phone from his ear, firmly believing that that was the weirdest phone call he's ever had.

What the hell would Claire Redfield want from him? After years of no contact whatsoever?

He has no damn idea, but he's beyond interested in finding out.

The bell of the door rings when he walks into the place. He spots a few college students sitting across the hall, typing away at their laptops, making conversation with others and drinking coffee.

He may not have had the college experience himself, but police academy was fun. He made some good friends there and went to parties, getting wasted and doing drugs until the sun came up.

Just halfway sits the redhead he's supposed to meet. Her hair is tied up in a high ponytail, a pair of glasses sitting on her nose while she sips on her own coffee.

He walks up to her, sitting down on the chair on the other side. "Hey there, stranger." He greets her with the exact same words as she previously did on the phone.

"You're ten minutes late."

"Yes, I assume you can understand I have more matters to attend to beside meeting up with people who randomly give me a call in the morning."

Not even a minute into the conversation and they're already bickering. This is going great. He suddenly remembers why he never liked her.

"I wouldn't have called you up if it wasn't important. It's not like I wanted to talk to you." She says with a full-on attitude, crossing her arms.

Leon narrows his eyes before a belittling chuckle leaves his mouth. All of this after attempting to kill her twice? Claire Redfield must have a death wish. "Cute. Are you trying out for a third round? It's been a while, hasn't it?"

She looks at him with disgust. "You haven't changed. Still the same scumbag you used to be."

"And you're still as annoying as you were back then."

"Fuck you."

"Unless you tell me why you called me, I'll happily smack the shit out of you."

The thing is that he's never this directly aggressive towards others — but this girl truly gets under his skin with everything she does. And not in a good way.

Trying to maintain her anger at the man in the suit, Claire pulls a black folder from her shoulder bag, nearly smacking it onto the wooden table.

When she doesn't say or do anything, Leon raises a single brow as he takes the folder into his hands, curious to see what's inside.

He's greeted with a picture of himself — his younger self. It's the photo that was taken shortly after he had been recruited by Umbrella, the one he used for all his passports too.

As it turns out, he recognizes it as the case file his boss at HQ put together at that time. It's what Lloyd had partially read out loud when he interrogated him four years ago. The real questions come out of his mouth as his finger flicks to the next page. "Where did you get this? And why does it matter?"

"Do you know what it is?"

"You don't need an IQ like mine to tell what it is."

"God, you're so stuck up."

"Nope, it's just the truth. Answer the damn questions."

If she continues going at him like this, her face is gonna match up with her hair color soon. "I got it from my contact."

"Who's your contact?"

"I don't reveal their names to anyone."

"What—you're not some fucking journalist."

"No, but I am part of an organization that wants to see bioterrorism gone." She retorts rather quickly, letting out a sigh. "And one of my contacts got this out of the Umbrella archive he was able to hack into."

That certainly intrigues him. "Why hack into the archive?"

"After Raccoon City, Umbrella pretty much fell, right? With the government publicly blaming them for the outbreak."

"Yeah, and?"

Checking behind her to make sure no one's listening, she leans a bit closer. "Well, it's not entirely true. Apparently the company is still very much up and running, they just rebranded. Closed all their facilities and built new ones with financial support from some shady black market partners. From what I've heard, it's disturbing. Even more than before."

That's not good. That's definitely not good.

"Damnit. That could be disastrous."

"Exactly. The thing is that it's been weirdly calm these past few years, they haven't done anything, which is why I'm thinking they're planning something big. I'm afraid it's gonna be another outbreak, but... on a larger scale. Who knows what they're onto."

Leon pinches the bridge of his nose. "God, this is the last thing I need right now."

"Yeah, I'm not exactly happy about it either." She tells him, curtly shrugging her shoulders. "After I saw what happened in Raccoon first-hand, I wanna take them down for good."

He nods at her, filling in the blanks. "And you called me because you think I can help?"

"Not just that, actually. Any former colleagues you can give me the names of? I might be able to track them down, see what they're up to."

Well, she's persistent. He'll give her that. "I'll send you a few names. But that's not why you wanted to do this in person."

She shakes her head. "No, it's not. I've got something else, and I don't think you're gonna like it."

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't aching to know what she's going to tell him, given the way she's being so secretive about it. Her hand moves into her bag again, doing the same thing as before and handing him another folder.

And whatever he expected — it sure as shit was not this.

The first thing he sees is a photo of you. There's not much in there, nothing that can't be found in your case evaluation from the CIA, but one word catches his eye.

Asset.

Oh boy. If this means what he thinks it means—

"You're telling me this is from the Umbrella archives? For real?"

"For real."

Leon pauses for a second, trying to find the words, because he's goddamn speechless. "It can't be. I'd run that contact of yours through a lie detector. Or some solid torture techniques."

"Leon—"

"She's not—there is no way in hell she's with Umbrella. No way."

"How do you know that?"

"That night in Raccoon, we—I saw how much she grew to hate them with everything we discovered. She hated me for being with Umbrella because it's a despicable company. Besides, she was just as horrified seeing zombies as you were. She'd never work for them. Never."

It's quiet between them for a moment, but Claire still isn't convinced. "From what Chris has told me, she's not the same as she used to be. He also told me you two aren't together anymore."

Did she have to go there?

He's not keen on discussing his love life with her, but there's bigger things going on right now.

"Well, technically we are, just not off-paper."

Claire's eyes widen once she gets it. "You guys got married!?" She whisper-yells at him.

"Yeah."

"But—when? What happened? Why did you break up?"

He rolls his eyes, but tells her about all the events that took place. Minus all the fucking. "After you left, I opened up to her about my past, why I joined Umbrella, why I did the things I did. We travelled to Europe, and when we were in the city, I noticed we were being followed by an asset. I had her walk through a few streets as bait while I prepared a sniper rifle, and I shot him in the head as soon as I could. We got a car, but she was upset, so we got in a fight after escaping the city. A team of special agents appeared out of nowhere, pointing their guns at her, so I jumped in front of her and they shot me instead. Nearly killed me."

The redhead listens to him, completely captivated by his story. "Holy shit. So that's why you broke up?"

"No, it just led up to it, I guess. They brought me to the hospital, interrogated us both separately." He explains, moving on to the sole reason you two split. "Apparently, they had a recording of a phone call between me and my boss that took place while I was on my way to Raccoon. He said I had to watch out for her and kill her should I have run into her."

"So does that mean—"

"Aside from getting rid of William and getting a sample — yes, she's been my target since the beginning. I knew exactly who she was when I ran into her at the gas station."

Shock is painted across her face. "Jesus, Leon... if you had opened up to her already, why not just tell her that too?"

He has to keep in mind that Claire wasn't with you the whole night, so she didn't really see anything of what went down between you two. "When she found out about me, I... she ran away in the lab, trying to hide from me, and I was hunting her down like some psycho. It was the worst. I needed to keep her by my side, I was afraid she'd get bitten or something if she was on her own. I wanted her to make it out of the city alive. After all that happened, if I had admitted she's one of the people I was supposed to kill — I don't think she would've taken that lightly."

Claire kind of understands where he's coming from, but still. Judging the way he still speaks highly of you, even if you did break his heart — only fair, because he broke yours — she can tell he still has feelings for you.

"You're still in love with her, aren't you?"

Leon looks up at her with his mouth twisted into a scowl and his eyes glossy. "What does it matter?"

"Why don't you just try to get her back?"

He scoffs. Easier said than done. "She hates me to the damn bone, Claire. I'm not getting her back. She's made it clear she wants nothing to do with me anymore, and it's my fault. I fucked up. Big time."

And for the first time, Claire feels sorry for the former Umbrella agent.

She shifts in her seat. "You know, Kennedy... you're the epitome of being morally grey, with a highly problematic past and an ego bigger than the Mount Everest — but I do believe you've got a good heart. Weirdly enough. So I guess you just gotta show her that."

The comment has him letting out a genuine laugh, not having anticipated those words ever coming out of her mouth. "Thanks for the advice. Maybe I'll make good of it."

Of course he knows it's not going to be easy, but he has to get closer to you somehow. Especially with the information Claire's given him now.

Because what the fuck is your business with Umbrella?

He's going to find out, one way or another.

After saying goodbye to Claire, his mind is racing in all kinds of directions. The fact that Umbrella is still very much out there, undoubtedly working on a new disturbing invention, is the worst thing.

While he may not show it often, Leon was most certainly affected by the things he saw in Raccoon, just like you and Claire. It was horrifying. He can still hear the hissing and moaning of the limping zombies, they still appear in his nightmares.

He tries not to think about the amount of people that died there. How many people must've seen their friends get torn apart, limb by limb.

And when he got bitten, he thought it was the end for him, too. It's a damn miracle he turned out to have immunity for the T-virus, but in hindsight, he guesses it was one of the reasons why his boss chose to send him there.

If they're planning another outbreak, he wants to know. He can't let that happen. Not again. It's the least he can do, considering all the shitty things he did while working for them.

He returns to the office to talk to Lloyd, because it's a clear matter of urgency.

The black-ops squad they work on isn't specialized in bioterrorism. They handle all kinds of cases, and while there are branches specialized in that field, Leon wants to take this case. Handling Umbrella is a personal matter, in more ways than one. He's glad Claire decided to come to him before doing anything.

"You wanna take on Umbrella?"

"Yeah."

His superior and friend leans back in his leather seat. "Are you sure? I have a contact with the feds who's probably a better fit for this job—"

"Lloyd." Leon interrupts, one hand on his hip and the other in the air up in front of his stomach, gesturing for him to stop. "This isn't just any case."

"I'm aware."

"Then let me handle it."

"What doesn't sit right with me here is... well, everything."

"What?"

The man uses his index finger to push his glasses further up his nose. "The last time you volunteered to take down a company out of the kindness of your heart was... oh, that's right, never."

"Real funny."

"So that means that there's something behind it." He continues, waiting for his second-in-command to admit what he really wants to achieve here.

Leon sighs, both his hands on his hips as he tries to find the right words. "Well... let's just say her majesty the General is apparently involved with them."

"Christ, you gotta be kidding."

"Wish I was. There's a record of her being an asset, but... I find that very, very hard to believe. So I wanna do the investigation regarding her on my own, keep it low-key."

Lloyd finds it difficult to assess the situation like this, but he trusts Leon. "Alright. Anything you want me to do?"

"Put me on a mission with her. Something in the right field, if you got me. I'll keep you posted on it, yeah?"

"Alright. But this needs to be handled delicately." He says, speaking in a more hushed tone now, even if the door to his private office is closed. "If any of the higher-ups find out about this, they'll most likely kill her. I'm risking my position here by keeping it quiet."

And Leon nods. "I understand. I'll dig into it as much as I can."

And just like that, you and him are back to square one. True enemies, again.

Notes:

this chapter was also a bit on the short side but a very important one! gonna be fun having them both suffer for their own reasons lmaoo

either way forget most of the stuff you know about simmons and umbrella and all the re characters that appeared in this chapter bc i'm gonna take a different route! and next chapter's probably gonna have a steamy scene in it ;) thanks for reading sexies

Chapter 26: Act II - 4. Which of Us Is Worse

Summary:

Lloyd assigns you and Leon on a mission together, which takes an interesting turn.

Notes:

content warnings: explicit sexual content, author is tired therefore puts out shit chapters that aren't proofread, choking if you squint, forced drug use? i don't know just read the damn thing

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Leon's blue eyes curiously move as he pushes the door in front of him open. The cold air touches his skin in a sudden wave, but he doesn't mind it. It's refreshing actually.

He's never been to a place like this at this hour. Hell, he hasn't been in a place like this for a long time in general. The last time was years ago, with Sarah, probably.

The rink is empty, except for you.

He watches you as you move across the ice graciously, as if it's something you've been doing your whole life.

Maybe you have. He doesn't know.

Your outfit is a simple black attire of a long-sleeved shirt, gloves, tight and flexible pants with white figure skates. Yet right now, he's more drawn to your face.

With earphones plugged in and the ice all to yourself, you seem to be completely in your element. Calm, cool, collected — in control. You've got all the focus and time in the world, which is something of beauty. Leon finds himself so utterly captivated with you whenever you do something you're good at.

He could watch you do this for hours.

As an intense classical piece blasts through your earphones, you can see him slowly walking over to the stand with something resembling a document in his hand, which sparks your curiosity. You keep going nonetheless.

His heart and head are really fighting a battle here. After the things Claire told him, he should think of you differently, treat you differently — because there's a solid chance you could be on the other side of the fight. And that terrifies him.

But he doesn't want to think of you as a threat, much less treat you like one. He wants to get closer to you because he loves you, not because you might be a villain in this story.

Especially since he's been on that side of the story himself.

If anything is going to give him wrinkles, it's this. You. He's tired of it already.

When the song ends, you let out a sigh and skate towards the side of the rink, which is where you can get off and on the ice. A thin layer of sweat covers your skin and your chest heaves.

"What do you want?" Is the first thing you say to him with annoyance awfully clear in your tone.

"You skate beautifully." He responds. You cock a brow at the seemingly genuine comment, and it's been a long day, so you opt not to say something sarcastic in return for once.

"Thanks. How'd you know I was here?"

"I have my ways."

His ways being asking Lloyd to track your cellphone. Funny how easy it is to find people with technology nowadays.

"Alright. Once again, I'm asking what you're doing here."

"I'm here to give you this." He hands you a case file, putting his hands in his pockets as you open it up.

Holy shit. You recognize the name of the man at the top, seeing the matching portrait attached to it with a paperclip. He's been working with Umbrella since four months. "What am I looking at? Scientist?"

"Mhm. He indirectly gave us the lead for a new case. Apparently he's been crossing some boundaries, talking about stuff he shouldn't... we might be onto something big regarding bioterrorism here. Maybe not. Who knows. Lloyd says it's worth it."

"What's worth it? What's the mission?"

"Keep the guy alive, unless he causes trouble. Should anything happen, it's collateral damage."

How noble of him. You normally have the same mindset, but not this time — because you have to keep the man in the file alive. For your own gain. Nothing more.

"So what's he done that makes him so interesting?"

"He's one of the researchers for something like a virus they might be concocting. It's all in there." He responds, gesturing towards the file.

It makes you frown. "And why couldn't Lloyd brief me about this in the morning? You his little errand boy now?"

Leon chooses to ignore your comment, his playful and cocky attitude not faltering the slightest bit. "Why do you think I'm the one briefing you, Princess? We're doing this one together. You and me, going on a little roadtrip."

Damn.

"Wow. He's gotta have a death wish."

"Well, if he's got an idea, he can't be convinced otherwise. Deal with it."

"You seem awfully cheerful about this."

"I'm not. Trust me."

"Then why didn't you just give me this information in the morning? Did you really have to visit me here? Now?"

Shit, he's gotta hold onto his focus, but your face inches closer to his with your lips plump and eyes dark. It's exciting and worrying.

You've got him wrapped around your finger and you know it.

Sort of.

"Mhm. I'm off with Neal first thing in the morning, so I'll meet up with you at seven. Don't be late."

And he leaves you with this aching feeling for him. As he always does whenever he enters and leaves the room.

It's really not fair how he still has this grip on you after so long. Years apart. You wish you could forget everything that happened and treat and see him as a complete stranger — but you can't.

Now that he's left the rink, you feel drained of any motivation you had before he talked to you. Worry clouds your rational thinking, so you sit down on the bench, taking your skates off.

You hate the way your eyes linger on the blades underneath them for too long, especially when you put your palm on it to take the skate off.

The thought and image of it worms its way into your head, no matter how much you try not to think of doing something like that. What does it matter? It would just heal right back up anyways.

So you throw the skate away, burying your face in your hands.

What do I do, what do I do?

As you fight off your depressive thoughts, Leon's chest rapidly moves up and down when he has to catch his breath. He's never felt like this, with anyone.

It's just you, for God's sake. Why is he acting like this?

You're getting on quite literally all his nerves, which is incredibly rare. It's weird and makes him feel stupid, like some lovesick teenager talking to their crush.

He drops his head onto the top of the steering wheel with a grunt. He could use alcohol right now, lots of it — but the idea of getting drunk right now makes him feel even more miserable than he already is.

Just as he prepares to start his car, his phone begins to buzz in his pocket. "Yeah."

"Did you tell her?"

"Yes."

"How did she respond?"

"Normally. Nothing to be detected."

"Why do you sound so tired?"

"Because I am." Leon sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Lloyd, I don't know if I should be the one to do this."

His best friend at the other end of the line pauses. "Why?"

"'Cause I... I don't know whether I want her to be innocent or guilty. It's hell either way. Besides, she hates me to the bone. I'm the last person she'd confess anything to."

"You know what I think?"

"No, but I bet you're gonna tell me."

"I think both of you are fools. Idiots."

"I keep forgetting you always wanna be the wise-ass."

"I am wise." The man deadpans, his sense of humor shining through before he resorts to the more serious side of him. "I know this is hard on you. You know I wouldn't assign you to this task if you weren't the right fit for it. She cares more than you think, Leon. She does."

Leon stays quiet for a while, staring at the city lights from the driver's seat. He doesn't really know what to say or do now.

"I'm not used to doing my job like this. Having someone that I care about involved. I don't know how to handle it."

It's a rarity for him to open up like this, even to his closest friend — because he usually just pushes it all away, keeps it to himself. He hates talking about his constant anxiety, his fear of losing the people he holds dear, his horrific nightmares and the depression from all the trauma and all the guilt. It makes his hands tremble and his head hurt.

"Do what you would do with any other colleague. I know it's probably not what you want to hear right now, but it's the best advice I can give you. But I know you, you'll figure it out. It's one of your few strong points."

The latter makes him let out a breathy chuckle, rolling his eyes. "Gee, thanks."

It's quiet for a moment before Lloyd offers his final sentiment. "She's got a soft spot for you, Leon. Use that to your advantage."

And with that, the phone call ends, and Leon is left alone in his car, greeted by nothing but silence.

The next day passes by agonizingly slow for him. He's up early to handle a select few men from a crime syndicate with Neal.

And the kid is insufferable. Who has that much energy in the morning?

You, on the other hand, had a painful little torture session in the morning, then a mission benefitting your own hidden agenda in the afternoon.

One that required you to dress up a little. Not necessarily in a good way. Seducing businessmen is not really your idea of fun, but you gotta do what you gotta do. It's all for the sake of something bigger, after all.

So when it's exactly two past seven o'clock, you quickly walk to the conference room, where your handsome partner for the evening is already seated.

He doesn't even bother looking up at first. "You're late. What a surprise."

The retort makes you roll your eyes. "I have more shit going on in a day, you know."

When he slightly spins his chair to the other side, now facing you, his eyes rake over your body. You're wearing a mini skirt, long-sleeved corset top and stilettos. Not exactly an outfit appropriate for your line of work.

He cocks a brow. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"Like what?"

"Do you want me to say it?"

"That I look like a hooker? I can practically hear you thinking it."

"I was gonna go for high-class call girl, but whatever you say." He responds, waving with his hand. "C'mon, Sweetheart, while it looks great on you, we're going on a field mission. Not exactly practical. This isn't like you."

"I didn't have time to change. I'll go now, give me a few minutes."

"No. Just change the shoes."

"But—"

"You're already late. Change the shoes, then let's go. I don't feel like waiting."

As he gets up from his seat, you begin to protest. "I can't do field work in this, I'll take just a few minutes—"

"You heard me. Hurry your ass up. I'm leaving in exactly one minute."

And just like that, he walks past you, leaving you on your own in the room. You grumble out loud, clenching your fists.

Knowing he's petty enough to drive off without you if you don't get to the car in time, you begin to switch your heels for a pair of boots.

Leon goes outside to sit in the SUV, repressing the urge to smirk when he sees you outside with different shoes and the same outfit. He could've waited, really. But you look criminally good in those clothes, and he's still the selfish asshole he used to be, in a way.

You huff while opening the car door, occupying the passenger's seat. "Go."

The engine revs when he steps on the gas pedal at your command. It's shitty weather outside, it's been raining all day with a bright white, cloudy sky.

"How long is the drive?"

"Thirty minutes."

Brows furrowed, you try to hide the very obvious roll of your eyes. This damn job really has been testing you lately.

The mission is, in theory, an easy one. Go to the lab of the known Umbrella researcher in the file, look for intel — in particular information regarding new Umbrella facilities, contacts, or research.

You can't help but wonder if Lloyd put you two on this mission together on purpose. He's the only one who's aware of what happened, after all.

It's quiet for the first few minutes. The silence is a bit awkward, it's not like you have anything to say to him — nor are you willing to make small talk.

So he's the one who speaks up. "Have you been in touch with Simmons lately?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity. Gotta pass the time somehow."

Silence rises again, and Leon is almost certain you're not going to give him an answer until you suddenly do. "No, I haven't seen him a lot. Thankfully."

"Wasn't nice to you?"

A rhetorical question. Sort of.

"Have you met the guy? I'm convinced he might actually be evil."

"So I take you're happier with Lloyd as your supervisor?"

"What's with all the questions? And to answer, he'll do for now. Anything to get away from that irascible fucker."

He chuckles at your choice of words, using it to keep the conversation going. "Irascible? That's a big word, sure you know what it means?"

"Irritable. Bad-tempered. Some might even say cantankerous. Want me to use it in a sentence?"

"Sure. Why not." He drawls, playing along with the banter he's secretly enjoying.

With a smug look on your face, you respond. "Leon is an irascible old man."

"I'm neither of those things."

"Hey, I get it. Hearing the truth hurts. Especially with your fat-ass ego."

"Cute. If anything, you're the irascible one."

"Oh, please."

"Miss Anger Issues. Have you considered therapy?"

"No, I just go to the nearest bar to find someone to spend the night with. Just like you, right?"

"What's up with you always slut-shaming me?"

"It's 'cause you're a slut. Everyone from a mile away can see it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Accessories. The hair. The outfit. It's so obvious. Call it slut-spotting 101."

"Are you high?"

"No, but I sure as hell wish I was." You let out a weirdly adorable giggle, knowing you make jokes when you're tired. It's been a long week for you. "Either way, my point stands, mister."

"You still haven't explained why."

"Oh, come on. You wear the typical grey sweatpants too. Showboating your rowboat like that. You're the full package if you occasionally wear V-necks."

And Leon, being the sexy but confused man that he is, raises his brow, awfully engaged in the conversation he never thought he'd be having. "What's wrong with V-necks?"

"I knew it!"

"I can't help the fact that they look good on me!"

"Where's that V pointing to, huh? Hoe-hoe town?"

"Okay. You know what?"

Then he's completely pulled out of his weird talk with you when his phone rings. Damn. Way to ruin the fun.

"What is it?"

"You need to hurry the fuck up." Kayoko says at the other end of the line, and judging her tone, he knows it's serious.

"Why?"

"Because we got new intel that proves that the local police have discovered something fishy's going on there. You know how it is."

Ironically, even now that he's working for the government, cops are still bad news. Working for the CIA is not exactly something you just discuss with everyone, but being the member of the elite task force that he is, his job is essentially top-secret, classified information for everyone outside of the agency. Meaning he can't ever be caught doing something illegal for his job. Ever.

So he's got to avoid cops. Which is easy, most of the time. He knows how they're trained, after all.

"How long do we have?"

"Forty minutes. At most."

"Do you know how large that building is?"

"I do, so you might wanna speed up. And be careful."

She hangs up after that. Leon puts his phone back in his pocket, and even though the call wasn't on speaker, you heard everything.

Out of your new colleagues, Kayoko is the one you've spoken with the least. You don't know her at all, but what you do know is that she and Leon are close. It kind of bothers you.

You're not jealous. Of course not.

Okay, maybe a little.

But it all feels so unfair. Leon not only got off scot-free, but he also got all the girls — not just pretty ones, stunning ones. Hollywood kind of stunning.

Your insecurities never really left you, even if you did grow to be more confident.

Tongue pushing against the inside of your cheek, you redirect the conversation. "Cops gonna get themselves killed tonight?"

"Most likely."

The stupidity of it all makes you laugh to yourself. "Idiots."

There it is again — your strange behavior. It's so different from the way you used to be. Four years ago, you would've never chuckled at a bunch of cops going on a suicide mission, knowing you could prevent it.

And Leon doesn't like beating around the bush. It's not like small talk is going to get him anywhere. "What happened to you?"

The question makes your brows knit together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You're just... different. Very different." He says, shrugging his shoulders. "You're acting kind of like the way I did when you met me. If not worse."

"People change."

"That's all you've got?"

"What more do you want me to say? That I went through some traumatic experience that changed me forever? Come on."

"I know something happened."

"It's none of your business, Leon. Never has been, never will be."

"Fine. Whatever you say."

And there the awkward silence is again. You decide to just turn the radio up, making it clear to him that you don't wanna talk anymore.

It annoys Leon, how you keep him at a distance like this, not willing to share anything anymore. He gets it, sure — but he just wants to know what's going on with you. Not just for all the Umbrella bullshit, but also because he's worried about you.

For now, he lets it rest.

As you arrive at the facility, Leon finds a well-hidden spot to park the car without alerting any security. You both put in your earpieces so you can communicate with each other.

"We don't have long. Twenty minutes. Stay in contact. You know what to do."

Absentmindedly, you agree with him. "Yes, sir."

If he didn't have a job to do, he'd make some sarcastic remark. At the entrance, you decide you'll take the left wing of the building, he'll take the right. Splitting up is the fastest way to cover the majority of the area.

In theory.

Because you have an agenda that's a bit different from what it's supposed to be.

The thing is that this building isn't owned by Umbrella, and the vast majority consists of regular workers, but you know that there's a few Umbrella members conducting their research here. Including the scientist from the case file.

Now that most people have left, it's much easier to navigate. You need to find your guy before Leon does, and since you don't know his location in the building, that might prove to be harder than it sounds.

You don't give a fuck about the actual mission objective. You'll just say you didn't find anything.

Dodging two people sitting in their cubicles, a few minutes pass as you silently move across the halls.

"Status?" Leon's voice cracks through your earpiece as he tries to check in on you.

"Clear."

"Copy."

It's best not to talk too much in the field. Short sentences unless needed otherwise. It's essentially part of protocol.

Ten more minutes pass by. The deadline of twenty minutes that Leon set is nearly over, and you have yet to find the guy. You have to be outside on time if you want to avoid arousing suspicion.

You find yourself on the fifth floor, which seems awfully empty and dark — except for the one figure you spot by the fume hood. You recognize him, even from a distance.

That's the moment when you turn the microphone of your earpiece off.

The sound of your footsteps cause him to turn around in his place. The man locks eyes with you, and his eyes might as well pop out of their sockets. "Oh Jesus—I haven't—what do you want!?"

"Will you shut the fuck up?" You whisper under your breath. "I'm not here to kill you, you idiot. They know. You've been slipping up, and now my partner dragged me here on an official mission. In all honesty, if I didn't value your work, I would have slit your throat right here, right now."

He trembles under your glare. "I'm getting further with my research, I swear. The team is positive about it."

"I'm not positive until I see some fucking results. Now get the hell out of my sight. Make sure you move any valuable data to a disk with solid protection. Don't go to the right wing if you value your life."

The scientist begins to pack quickly, and you check your watch, seeing you've crossed the time limit already.

"Shit!" You curse to yourself, beginning to leave the same way you came in. You hear Leon speaking to you through the tiny device in your ear, which you don't answer, because your priority right now is just to get the fuck out.

As you wait for the right moment to run to the exit, you feel your heart pounding in your chest. God, field work still gives you stress.

Leon has been waiting several minutes already, which is pretty much unacceptable for an agent of your rank, and his.

When you come running outside, gun in hand, he's worried. Of course he is. He's been clenching his damn jaw the whole time because of his fear of you getting hurt.

Even if you are a superhuman.

"Let's go. I'm driving." You tell him, getting into the driver's seat before throwing your gun into the backseat.

As you get the car going, you use your cellphone to call your supervisor.

"What's the situation, Lloyd?" You ask while driving as fast as you can here, focusing on the road.

"You weren't spotted on the cameras, but someone called the cops. Several units are on their way, so you need to lay low for a while. Want me to look for a spot?"

"No, I can manage."

With your foot still pushing the gas pedal, you drive for another minute or so before seeing the woods at the edge of the road. It's a solid hiding place, so you turn the steering wheel, parking the car in a secluded spot.

Leon speaks up once you're done. "Kill the engine. Lights too."

"Yes, Leon, I'm aware."

Both of you grow more calm now that you're in hiding. It's completely quiet, no talking, no engine running, nothing. Just the rain outside.

Leon narrows his eyes to himself.

Fuck it.

With the rain tapping on the glass windows of the car, he sighs, spreading his legs a bit more when he shifts in his seat to make himself comfortable. It takes a moment of silence for him to voice his thoughts.

"You gonna tell me what's going on?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You spent much longer in that place than necessary. You could've been out of there within a minute when I told you to. Instead you show up way too late."

"It was hard to find something."

"Except it wasn't."

"If you've got something to say, just say it."

He bites his lip as he pauses a second. "You're pulling shit behind my back. I wanna know what."

There's no point in denying you're hiding something from him. That much you know. He won't get to know what, though. Especially given the fact that him and Lloyd are so close.

It's weird — how you're enemies fighting on the same side.

"Just because you want something doesn't mean you can have it."

"It does for me." He retorts, his arrogance shining through. "I'll find out eventually. You know that."

You still haven't made eye contact since leaving the facility, and with the only sound being the rain and thunder outside the vehicle, it makes things awfully tense when you finally give him a response.

"Maybe you'll die trying to find out."

His expression remains neutral, but his heart rate picks up with your words. What the hell are you saying?

"Planning on killing me, huh?"

"That'd be a waste." You shrug nonchalantly. "Pretty sure a lot of people have you on their list, though."

"Kinda thought I'd be on yours."

"Nah. Would hate to see your handsome face ruined."

You're redirecting the conversation and he's sick of it. Within a split second, when you finally turn to look at him, you find yourself staring into the barrel of his magnum.

"Tell me the truth, Doll."

"Or what? You're gonna shoot me?"

"Don't test me."

You can see how serious he is based on the look in his eyes. It's almost scary — almost. But you know him. You've seen this look on him before.

It's kinda hot, to be honest.

Just like back then, he's telling you not to test him.

But you want to test him. You need to distract him from your hidden agenda and you're curious to see how far you can take this.

It's quiet, except for the rain pouring and your steady breathing. You're not sure what overcomes you, but you move to his seat, straddling his lap.

His one hand brushes past your thigh while the other still holds the gun, pointed at your chest.

"If you wanna shoot me, then do it. I won't stop you."

"And if I don't?"

Shrugging innocently, you subtly hike up your skirt. Not that it left much to the imagination to begin with. "I guess we'll see, won't we?"

Leon isn't sure what you're playing at here. You've never been the type to use sex to manipulate someone, from what he knows, yet here you are — so he must be imagining things.

He finds you incredibly hard to read. You are. And you've got him cornered, because he doesn't know what to do right now.

He can't shoot you. He doesn't want to, and even if he did, he would physically not be able to pull that trigger on you.

But he can't give in either.

Goosebumps erupt on his skin and his heart rate picks up once more when he feels the palm of your hand on his cheek.

For the first time ever, you're making him nervous. "What's it gonna be, Leon?" Your voice is smooth, soft, raspy — seductive. It's a side of you he's never seen before.

You eye him curiously while he's struggling internally, so he tries to get you to work with him here. "I want answers. All you have to do is give 'em to me."

"I want something different." You tell him, feigning innocence. "Either you give it to me or I'll find someone else who will."

And that's the comment that flips the switch. His confidence comes back to him just like that. His hand grips your bare thigh harder than intended when he dares to mention the person he saw you with the other day.

"Really? Like who? Chris?"

"Mhm." You nod in agreement, enjoying the way you're wrapping him around your finger more with each word leaving your mouth. "I bet he's good. He certainly looks like it."

You hold no romantic feelings or attraction to Chris — even if you bet sitting on a big man like that would be one hell of an experience, probably — but your husband here doesn't know that.

His jealousy is going through the roof. "You're not gonna fuck Chris."

Narrowing your eyes, your palm moves down to rest on his upper body. "Why wouldn't I?"

He drops the magnum in the driver's seat, where you were previously seated, putting his now free hand on your waist.

"'Cause you're gonna fuck me."

A small smirk creeps onto your face when you lean in. Your lips aren't touching yet, and he lets you take control of the moment now. He won't make the first move now. Not this time.

He's crumbling underneath you as he waits in anticipation. He needs you to touch him, he's needed it for four years now. It's been so fucking long.

The tension makes it nearly impossible to breathe. His brows knit together when you put your hands on the sides of his neck, finally giving him what he wants.

His hands move on their own, sliding further up your thighs. You tear his white dress shirt open, not paying any mind to the buttons flying around.

From the moment your lips touched his, it's been everything but gentle. Teeth clashing, tongues moving together, saliva on your mouth. It's blatantly obvious he's been aching for this, and to be honest, so have you.

As your hands roam his bare chest, you realize you nearly forgot how good he is at... well, pretty much everything. Making out with him puts you in a trance, as if it lasts merely a few seconds and an eternity at the same time.

He fists your hair while pulling you as close as possible. Heavy, ragged breaths leave you gasping for air, it's sleazy and unholy and probably really bad — and it makes you want more.

God, he knows that you're distracting him here to avoid the topic he just brought up, he knows — but he can't stop kissing you, can't stop touching and groping you, reclaiming what's his.

He sees red at the image of you sitting on top of anyone that isn't him. No, he'll show you what you're missing.

Your fingers slide across his sharp jaw while his palm rests on your throat, applying the tiniest bit of pressure, and you enjoy it.

His other hand moves down to cup your clothed pussy. He can already feel you're starting to get wet, making his breath hitch.

"Bet you've been waiting for this, huh? Getting me all worked up just to do this." He mutters, not actually expecting you to give him an answer.

But you do. "Mhm, wanted this for so long."

He wants to believe that he has this power over you, but deep down, you know it's the other way around. It's scary and maybe even terrifying, to be so weak in someone's hands, but it turns out to be something he needs.

Pushing your panties to the side, he tilts his head to see your glistening folds while feeling your hot breath by his ear as you kiss his face, jaw and neck.

You let out a strained gasp when the first of his long fingers slides into you. Instinctively, you feel like closing your legs, but with Leon forcing your thighs open, it's impossible.

Your own fingers dig into his shoulders when his second digit pushes into you with ease, and the first soft, breathy moan he's heard from you in years tumbles from your lips.

Just that sound alone gets him so greedy, so willing, so heartbroken. It tears his heart in two and puts it back together all the same, because this is real — you're here with him. No one else.

Out of eagerness, you rut against his hand, ready to use him for your own pleasure, but he takes charge by curling his fingers. Your hand touches the expensive jacket of his suit, and you decide it needs to be taken off.

He only pulls away from your body when you do so, shrugging the piece of clothing off, only to be left in his ripped white dress shirt.

Seeing a few scars on his chest, he feels nervous under your gaze. "Please, just... don't focus on them too much."

His insecurity tugs on your heartstrings. "Why? They're part of you."

Wanting to draw the attention away from him for once, he cups your face. "At least yours makes you look pretty badass."

"Kinda does, doesn't it?" Faces inching closer to the other, he nods in agreement.

"Yeah." He chuckles, leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw, much to your satisfaction.

As enjoyable as having his fingers inside you was, you want more. You're already too far gone to remember you only started this to avoid further confrontation.

The moment you pull down your panties is when he loses all the care in the world. His fingers tremble just a bit when he reaches down to undo the buttons of his pants.

Freeing his hard dick from his boxers, he nearly whimpers when his fingers move to the wetness dripping onto his clothed legs.

Jesus. You really are enjoying this as much as he is, maybe even more so.

Your eyes widen at the overwhelming twinge of intrusion as he feeds you every inch of his veiny girth, your hips having no choice but to drop into his lap and take his cock. Tears prickle in the corner of your eyes because it hurts so fucking good. Even if you've taken him before, he's still the biggest you've ever had to fuck yourself on, but that doesn't stop you from levelling your weight down, letting your cunt sink and sink and sink, until finally he's so fucking deep that your clit is buried in his pubic hair and your ass is pressed up against his heavy balls.

And when you do, he lets out a small whine, his hands moving to hold onto your hips. "Jesus fucking—"

"Leon—shit—" you gasp out his name, slowly setting a pace for yourself. It may not be your first time on top of him, but it's so different now. The power between you is constantly shifting, and right now, you're the one who has it.

"Atta girl," he moans, his heavy breathing being a bigger turn-on than it probably should be, "I know you can go faster, c'mon."

His words and the way he says them have always had this effect on you. Always making you so pathetically eager to please, to satisfy him, to see him feel good because of your actions. Oh, how easy it is to just give yourself to him.

And even now, it's no different.

So you go faster, trying to keep down your own moans but failing. He's moved his hands to your ass, pushing you down on him harder each time you sink down.

You're convinced this is the purest form of ecstasy. Nothing will ever measure up to this. No drugs or alcohol, nothing.

Even in the middle of your fast fucking, you lean in to kiss him again, and you both hum into it, lips touching sloppily. Vision blurring, you drown in your own desire and the feeling of his warm hands gliding down your skin.

The words coming out of his mouth are panted against the skin of your collarbone. "God, you're making such a fuckin' mess. Dripping all over me like this, y'know that? Gettin' me all dirty." His speech becomes a bit slurred whenever you're fucking, a habit of his.

"Don't care." You respond softly, cupping his face. "Feels good."

Your words make him laugh — it's a quiet, gentle thing, full of breath and adoration. "Yeah?" He asks. "I bet it does."

The fact that his voice is this much lower than normal makes your pussy flutter around him, even he can feel it.

He bites his lip, trying not to be as vocal as he would want to be. His moans come out sounding like erotic sighs, and it's making you dizzier than he could fathom.

"You want my cum? Hm? Want me to fill you up all nice?" He grunts out the question, his breath fanning hot across your cheeks in the dark shadows of the car.

He's so damn intoxicating.

Your eyes roll shut as he dips his head to your covered breasts where he yanks your top down just enough to expose them, suckling one of your nipples onto his tongue with a rough chuckle.

"Yeah, do it, please—only ever let you—"

He lifts a thick brow, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his cock twitch inside of you, if it didn't make him rut his hips up into you with deep, low grunts in the depths of his chest.

"Then make me cum, make me fucking cum, I know you can—oh, yes, fuck—"

He repeats the phrases like a mantra while his eyes roll back, biting his lip, because he's pretty sure not a single proper sentence is leaving his mouth. You're riding him so hard that he can barely speak.

He bares his teeth, pinching your nipple between his sharp whites in a hard bite, throwing you off the edge.

You drop your hips, cunt spreading around the base of his cock and creaming all over him as you cum, dripping on the sleek trousers he hadn't even bothered to take off in the first place.

And you clench down on him so hard, your gummy walls gripping him so good that he spills everything he's got inside you. The familiar feeling makes you shudder above him.

Your rational thinking comes back to you as he's just hit his peak, and so you reach inside your pocket.

He's coming down from his high when you catch him completely off guard by sticking a syringe into the side of his neck.

You almost feel bad for him, with the way his brows knit together and the way he helplessly grabs your arm, attempting to stop you from injecting the sedative into his veins.

But you're much stronger than he is.

"No—" Once he realizes what it is, he lets out a strained cough, as if he's close to choking, a defeated yet mean expression on his face. "You little bitch."

Ah, you can't blame him for his choice of words. You are forcefully knocking him out, after all. "Love you too, baby."

And just like that, within approximately thirty seconds, his eyes roll the slightest bit backwards and his eyelids close, arm dropping onto the hand rest.

Anesthesia is one hell of a thing.

As you sit on top of his now knocked-out body, you let out a sigh to stop yourself from sobbing, with the lump in your throat growing.

This better be worth it.

Getting off him, you dress him up again, moving back to the driver's seat. You take a moment to admire him in the dark, only the moonlight outside highlighting his features.

Your hand touches a strand of his hair, removing it from his face, and the guilt begins to creep in.

Someday he'll understand. Just not now.

Now, all you have to do is just push him away, until the point that he hates you.

Notes:

hoo boy. the downward spiral continues. out of curiosity, i'm curious to hear what y'all think about the whole reader being with umbrella situation, so share it with me pls ! wondering if anyone's figured it out yet. ;) either way, once again i apologize for the long wait. hope you all enjoyed it nonetheless!

Chapter 27: Act II - 5. Animal Impulses

Summary:

The aftermath of your actions doesn't really go as you thought it would.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The apartment is dark when you push the door open, dragging the body of your husband with you, his one arm slung over your shoulder and your arm around his small waist.

Damn, you're lucky to have that super strength of yours. He's heavy.

Eyes darting around, you look for the bedroom, where you can hopefully finally put him down.

Thank God for anesthesia. He's out cold. He most likely will be for hours.

As you open the first door in sight, it looks like you've hit the jackpot. The king-sized bed seems awfully comfortable with the soft cotton sheets, and you realize how tired you are.

You figure the least you can do is take off his jacket and shoes. So you get to work, making sure he's well in his own bed, putting his stuff away in what you think is the rightful place for it.

And that's when you see it.

The ring on his nightstand.

In spite of already being sure it's what you think it is, you still pick it up, admiring it as if you bought it together yesterday.

You still have yours. Of course you do. No amount of money could make you trade it. Sure, things might be different now, but he was still a big part of your life. No, he still is.

It's hard to picture your life without him, really. Even if the many moments you shared with him were traumatic, sometimes toxic — but in a weird way, it did give you the adrenaline rush you'd craved for so long.

It's him who changed your life completely. For better and worse. At certain moments, you've thought about what your life would've looked like if you hadn't met him.

And you came to the conclusion that you would've probably just died in Raccoon.

Hell, maybe that would've been a better fate than this.

Your thumb moves across his cheek after cupping his face. Even with scars and faded wounds, he's still beautiful. Finding a man like him is rare — you've met plenty of talented, good-looking agents in the past few years, yet none of them have been able to measure up to him.

Whenever you're around him, you still feel this form of intimacy, like an emotional connection. One you've had with no one else.

You'd love to say that you don't need anyone. And maybe you don't — but you're still lonely. It would have been easier if you'd never met him, or if you'd at least met him in a regular way, instead of bonding over trauma and secrets and lies.

Sharing a connection like this is something beautiful when you're on good terms with each other.

Which you most certainly aren't.

That love you still hold for him is gonna get in the way sooner or later — hell, it already is, to be honest — and you're afraid of losing him completely when it does. Because in spite of everything, you feel like he still cares. A little bit.

You just wonder if he loves you enough not to kill you.

You silently kiss his cheek once you've put the gold ring back in its place, choosing to leave him in his room.

As you close the door behind you, you see how much room the apartment has. It comes close to a whole penthouse, which you don't doubt he could certainly afford with all the money he has in his bank account.

But living in a place like that with no one else around would only make you lonely. And you know him well enough to say he'd feel the same.

There's large windows, the interior decorated with this mix of black and brown-ish, wood-like colors, with these little lamps that give the place a cozy and intimate atmosphere, and you've got to hand it to him — he has good taste.

An opened bottle of whiskey sits on the kitchen table, the empty glass on the counter. You're more intrigued with the little notebook on the table placed next to the bottle.

So you can't help but pick it up. Your fingers flick to the first page, and in all honesty, you didn't take Leon as someone who'd write their thoughts down, but he is, apparently.

It's not a diary, it looks like this is something he uses to simply write down some impulsive things that pop up in his head.

And it's gotta be old, because it has the date on most of the pages, and they go way back. Way before he even met you. Scribblings, names, reminders for himself to do things. Illegal things.

You also come to the conclusion he can't draw for shit.

Oh. You find the page of the evening he drove to Raccoon, seeing he's got some things about you written down. He must've done it after his supervisor called him in the car, which was the tape you got to hear at your interrogation.

Where was this notebook when you went through his stuff in that motel room?

Recalling those memories makes you wonder what your life would've looked like if you and him hadn't been caught. Images of him getting shot in front of you flash before your eyes, and you force it out. You can't think about it.

So you turn page after page, hoping to find something of actual value.

And oh boy, do you find something important. Several, actually. You find the word Umbrella in the middle of a page, underlined, and your name with a question mark behind it.

Shit. You didn't know he knew you were involved with them in particular. What else does he know?

And maybe more importantly, how the fuck did he find out?

On the same page, you find the familiar name of Claire, seeing 2 PM next to it. He met up with Claire? "What the fuck?" You whisper to yourself.

Well, she works for an organization that is trying to fight bio-terrorism. Fuck, you wouldn't be surprised if she somehow found out and told him.

You're certainly gonna keep that in mind.

Then, on the last used page, dated this week, you recognize the name of his sister, which sparks your eyes when you get an idea.

A bad one, maybe, but it's perfect.

You make a few pictures with your phone before putting the notebook right back where you found it, and you decide to go. You've been here too long, and being in the comfort of his home doesn't feel right to you. Not like this, anyway.

Glancing at him for a last time, you swallow the pain in your throat and close the door quietly.

Fuck, you hope you can even fall asleep tonight.

The following morning, at eight o'clock sharp, Lloyd sits in his office, finding it beyond strange his second-in-command hasn't showed up yet. It's wildly unlike Leon to be late.

Yoko is also always on time, so she walks into his office, raising her brow. "Where's Leon?"

"I don't know. He hasn't said anything since last night."

She moves her hand up to put a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "I checked last night before clocking out — he didn't file a mission report."

"He didn't?" Shit, that's a bad sign. Perhaps weirdly enough, Leon has a solid work ethic, so he would've either finished it the same night or sent his superior a message he'd do it later. And this time, he didn't do either.

"Nope. I called him once and he didn't answer."

As the two talk about the situation, the young blonde walks in with a toothpick sticking out of the side of his mouth. "Morning, y'all. What's up? Where's Kennedy?"

And since Lloyd hasn't had his morning coffee yet, he's a bit less calm and diplomatic than usual. "Well, he's not here, is he, Neal?"

"What's got you so grumpy, boss? Panties in a twist?"

"Just—zip it." He replies to the sarcasm, taking his phone from his pocket to call the man everybody seems to be looking for now.

And the phone rings for an awfully long time, but there's no response.

Just after he's clicked on the red icon on the screen, he sees the door open, only to have you walk in.

"Hey, Toots! What'd you do to our boy?" Neal jokingly asks, yet it almost makes you choke on your spit.

"Nothing, why do you ask?"

Jesus. Play it cool, just play it cool.

"'Cause he's not here. For some reason. You and him were paired up together, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, we finished up after hiding from the cops, we both went home, and now I'm here." You shrug, pretending you didn't drug the guy after riding him into oblivion.

The man sitting at his desk watches your behavior like a damn hawk. It's hard to spot, but he just knows there's something off in the way you act and talk so casually — so he figures it's for the best if he goes to check on Leon as soon as possible.

"I'm gonna go check his apartment."

Both Yoko and Neal are surprised at his words, because if Lloyd's worried, everyone should be worried.

So Neal takes his toothpick out for a second, showing concern for his colleague. "You think something bad happened to him?"

"I'm about to find out. All three of you, stay here until further notice."

You sigh to yourself, biting your lip when you realize he must still be out. What's Leon gonna say to him when he wakes up?

Okay, so, maybe you should've thought about that.

Twenty minutes after leaving the building, Lloyd arrives at the door of Leon's apartment, knocking on the thick material.

The concern in his chest only increases when there's no sign of life whatsoever. He has a key to the apartment, but as agreed with Leon, he only uses it for emergencies. This would be the first.

So he twists the key inside the lock, and it clicks open, allowing him to enter. His eyes move rapidly, scanning every inch of his surroundings for a threat, gun in hand.

After doing a thorough check of most of the place, he goes to the bedroom, only to find him in the same state you left him in last night.

His chest barely moves, but he's breathing. He seems unresponsive at first, since he doesn't respond to Lloyd calling his name, but after throwing some water on his face, he suddenly opens his eyes very slowly.

Lloyd examines his face to look for anything out of the ordinary until he spots something on his neck.

It's clearly a mark left by a needle, and he fears the worst for a moment, but Leon isn't exactly the type to go for hard drugs.

As Leon wakes up, the first thing he asks himself is where he is and how the hell he got here. He somehow can't get a word out at first, but then he finds his voice again, huffing when the major head ache hits him. It's like waking up with the worst hangover ever.

"Fuck, my head hurts." It's right then he realizes it's his superior standing by his bed, so he frowns while not making a single effort to get up yet. "What are you doing here?"

And Lloyd scoffs. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Does it look like I do?"

"Well, you were supposed to be at work forty minutes ago."

That seems to snap him properly awake. His eyes move to his nightstand, then back to his body, seeing he's still in his clothes from last night. He groans for a second, rolling his eyes. "Jesus Christ. Why is she like this?"

"You gonna tell me what happened?"

"I don't want to." He replies, acting like a little kid talking to their parent.

"Either you tell me or I'm taking the case myself."

That's enough to make him understand Lloyd knows something went down between you and him yesterday, and since he can't afford to lose the case, he sighs before telling the truth against his will.

"Well, to be blunt, we fucked and then she drugged me."

And the man in charge face-palms himself. "She stuck a needle in your neck? Just like that?"

"Yeah."

"How the hell did you not see that coming?"

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously — you're trained to stop things like that from happening. Not to mention you've got great reflexes, so once again, how the hell did you not see it coming?"

Leon's annoyance begins to act up, because both of them know very well why he didn't see it coming, and he doesn't want to admit it out loud. It's embarrassing, if anything. "Stop asking questions you know the answer to. You know I hate it when you do that."

As he gets up from the bed, stumbling his way towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water, Lloyd shakes his head. "Why would she drug you and then leave you at your house?"

"I don't know."

The brief silence between them feels strange. It's rare for them to disagree on something, and with Leon's feelings being involved, things are becoming worse by the day.

"What did you say to her?"

Leon gulps all the water in the glass, only to refill it. "She was inside that facility way longer than needed. When we had to lay low in the car, I confronted her. Was sick of her hiding stuff."

"Oh, great. So she knows we're looking into her now."

"Don't worry. She doesn't give a fuck."

The older of the two sighs. "This isn't some game you can just play for the hell of it — there's lives at stake here."

"If you're gonna motivate me with something, it's gotta be something better than the 'greater good'."

Lloyd can most certainly be an ass too, on occasion. He's a stubborn man who won't bend to the will of others. "I thought you understood one of those lives is hers. She'll get executed at this rate. I'll give up hers if it means saving yours, and you know it."

"Jesus—I'm looking into it, alright? It takes time."

The thing is that Leon's sudden reckless behavior isn't just out of character for him — it's that he's being reckless because of his feelings for you. He knows it, his superior knows it, and he doesn't doubt you know it too.

So Lloyd clenches his jaw. "You have to start asking yourself whether you're doing this to find out she's guilty or innocent. And given what your relationship looks like right now, what she did to you — you gotta see that this love you have for her is doing more harm than good."

The man in front of him runs his hand through his hair. "You're acting like I'm only focusing on her."

"You are."

And Leon looks up at him with conflicted, big eyes. He's a loving man, when he cares for someone, he cares deeply — and so the situation affects him more than anything else. He's still so overwhelmingly, annoyingly in love with you, feeling angry because you're fucking with him and beyond insecure knowing you possibly lost feelings for him.

Oh, that would break him. His heart aches just picturing it.

His best friend shakes his head to himself. "Take the day off. Get some proper rest."

"Fine. But I've still got some unfinished business I gotta take care of first."

Lloyd can't help but grin a little at the statement.

Back at the facility, you decided to kill time in the gym, but it proved to be difficult with your conscience constantly getting in the way.

So you left merely half an hour after going in.

As you stand in the changing room, your locker is slammed shut, and you're greeted with the sight of a royally pissed off Leon Kennedy.

Damn, here we go.

"Wanna explain to me why in the hell you thought it was a good idea to drug me last night?"

Oh, it's rare to see him this angry. You kind of relish in it, though. "Wasn't aware I had to explain my decisions to you."

"You do not know how close I am to losing my shit here." He hisses, and you let out a sigh.

"Consider it a warning." You give as an answer. "Try to stick your nose up my business again, and there will be consequences. Easy as that."

Now he just looks beyond offended. "You drugged me because I asked you a fucking question?"

"You do know this is the women's locker room, right?"

He opts to ignore your sarcastic comment. "What are you gonna do if I don't listen to your warning, huh? Kill me?"

Instead of answering with yes or no, you look at the watch on your wrist whilst giving a reply. "How's Sarah? Princeton treating her well? Her grades are looking pretty good so far."

The sentences have his blood running cold.

"You don't know what you're playing at here." Leon says, his hand slightly twitching at the mention of his sister. It's a dangerous line to cross with him.

Yet you seem to have a death wish, because you ignore his comment completely. "Would hate to see something bad happen to her, wouldn't you?"

And when you look back up at him with innocent eyes, he snaps. His hands wrap around your throat right before he shoves you up the wall, because you're going too far here. Threatening his family? That's low, especially for you. "Threaten my sister again. Try it."

Struggling to breathe, you just grin at him. "Gonna choke me to death? Never pictured myself dying in a locker room."

His grip on your throat loosens, his face inching closer to yours as he towers over you. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? 'Cause if I turn you in, there's not gonna be a court martial waiting for you, Sweetheart."

And you just shrug nonchalantly. "Gonna turn me in for what? On what grounds? What evidence do you have? Oh, that's right, nothing."

"I'll find out." He almost whispers, with the way he's so close to you. "Don't make me."

"Why not just turn me in already if you're so convinced? Why not just send me to my death? Hell, why not just kill me yourself? Hm?" The fake innocence in your tone has him reeling, his blood boiling and his heart pumping.

"'Cause it would be a waste."

"Keep telling yourself that."

God, you could cut the tension with a knife. He's not even sure he's breathing properly right now. "Don't do this."

For a moment, he just sees the humanity and guilt and sadness wash over you, but it's gone as quickly as it came. "Get some rest, Leon. You look tired."

Once you've left the room, he allows his body to rest by leaning against the lockers, closing his eyes for just a moment.

He's clueless, his mind a complete mess when he tries to think of your reasons. There's something driving you to do these things, to act like this — he just can't seem to figure out what. You must want something from them, something important. But what?

For the rest of the day, he does as Lloyd told him. He goes home to catch a few hours of sleep.

Whereas you are paired up with Neal for the day. Yoko is out on a solo assignment, so that left you with the youngest member of the team.

The objective is to check out an abandoned Umbrella facility in the south. Apparently an informant came forward with intel that led to the place you're currently looking at on your map, the location of it circled with a red marker.

As you sit in the car, your mind drifts off, his voice fading into the background as he tells some story you lost track of a while ago.

So you gasp the slightest bit when he suddenly touches your shoulder, because you've grown a bit wary of sudden physical touches. He notices the way you flinch and feels the need to apologize. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"No, it's fine. Just came out of nowhere."

"Hey, you okay?"

The question catches you off guard. "Why do you ask?"

He blinks a few times. "'Cause you look stressed."

Letting your body relax in the seat, you sigh and try to give an honest answer without giving anything away. "Just... haven't been feeling good in my own skin lately. It's fine, it'll pass."

"Sounds like it's a regular thing." He comments, regarding the way you said it. As if you've dealt with it before.

"It tends to be pretty constant, yeah."

He bites his lip while trying to find the right thing to say. "Drains all your energy, doesn't it?"

When he asks you that, you nod slowly, surprised he seems to — kind of — know what it feels like. "Yeah, it does. I hate it."

Neal has these blue eyes you can easily get lost in, so when he makes eye contact with you, it's strong, hard to break away from. "You know we've got your back, right? Not just in the field."

The seemingly heartfelt sentiment makes you frown. You've barely spoken to him, even less to Yoko — you've only really been around Leon and Lloyd a lot.

Yet for some reason, even your slightly paranoid self feels at comfort in Neal's presence. He seems genuine, with good intentions, and based on what you've heard, he goes through hell and back for his team.

"I appreciate it." You tell him, and he smiles back at you.

Yeah, he's not half so bad.

"Can I ask you a question?" He mentions, and you gesture for him to go ahead, so he does. "What's up with you and Kennedy?"

You press your lips together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... it just looks like you have known eachother for a longer time, y'know?"

"Nah, we haven't. I guess his character just kinda clashes with mine."

"You're a lot like him." He retorts, tapping on the steering wheel with his fingers, and you raise a brow.

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. The whole cold-and-quiet attitude, the sarcasm, you even fight similarly." Neal chuckles when he sees you narrow your eyes. "You bet I saw some of you two sparring together."

"Yeah, except he's known as calm and my whole reputation revolves around my anger issues."

Strands of his shaggy blonde hair move when he turns his head to you again. "Leon? Calm? On the outside, maybe."

That sentence catches your attention. "What are you talking about?"

"I've seen him like, really, really angry — once or twice. He's got that anger too, he just doesn't show it. It was nuts, we were on this field mission together, and one of us got badly hurt, and you can bet he lost his shit when we found the guys who attacked us. He took 'em out all on his own. It wasn't pretty."

To be fair, it does sound like something he would do.

It makes you wonder if they know about his background with Umbrella, back when he still worked for them. "How long have you known him?"

"Kennedy? Four years ago, I think."

"What was his occupation before that?"

"He doesn't like talking about it. Mentioned it was some kind of mercenary job. Why?"

"Just curious."

He can sense you want to know more, so he decides to continue. "I know he might seem like a hard-ass, but he's... he's got a good heart."

"You admire him."

"Yeah. He's the big brother I never had."

It's unexpected — how easily he opens up to you, showing no signs of embarrassment, nervousness or awkwardness. You wish you could do that too.

Well, there's certain people you do feel more comfortable around. Him, Lloyd... Leon.

They all appear to be great listeners. People who actually listen to your issues and do their best to give you heartfelt advice in return. It makes you feel a bit better, nearly emotional — because it's something you haven't felt in a long time.

Because you're not able to tell anyone about what happens to you on a daily basis. You wish you could yell, scream it from the top of your lungs so everyone would know — but that's not possible. It would be signing your own death sentence, and that of your loved ones.

So you have to pull yourself together and nod sweetly at Neal's words, changing the topic. "So, I take it that means you're an only child?"

"Yep. It's always been just me and my dad. Then he ended up in jail, I had to pay for his debts, got involved with the wrong people... now I'm here." He explains and shrugs his shoulders.

"Jesus."

"You ended up here because of the Raccoon City Incident, right?" He questions, which you didn't even know he was aware of in the first place.

"Yeah. Wasn't fun." You retort, not feeling like talking about that damn night — or even thinking about it.

But Neal's words spark a fire inside you. "Heard some stories. Would've been something if you'd bumped into Kennedy there."

So he knows both you and Leon are survivors of the accident. He thinks you two just missed each other the whole night, which is interesting to keep in mind — should he and the others have to choose a side at some point.

If that happens, you can tell them what their beloved colleague did to you.

"Yeah, that would've been something." You retort with a fake chuckle, making it sound like a real one.

One thing you've noticed is that everyone on the team speaks highly of Leon. How skilled he is, how protective and caring he is of his colleagues, how he's got a heart of gold underneath those walls he's built up.

And you know for a fact that it's all true.

He's a man you want to be around — a man who makes you feel loved and beautiful and everything a girl could want from a man. The fucker is even romantic when he wants to be.

Which, naturally, pisses you off. Because as much as you still love him, you also want to make him pay. It's not fair that he dragged you down into his mess only to get out unscathed, with you suffering the damn consequences.

Leon is one of the most loving and caring people you've ever met — so that's where you'll hit him.

Later that day, the man in question pushes his front door open, putting down the green backpack of the blonde girl walking after him.

"You know where to find everything, right?" He asks her, making sure to open a window to let some fresh air in.

Sarah hums in response, closing the front door behind her. "Yep. Do you mind if I take a shower before we eat?"

"Sure. I gotta go and pick it up anyways."

As he watches her go to the guest room, he chuckles when she swears like a trucker after stubbing her toe against a cupboard. "Motherf—"

"That thing has been there for years."

"Shut up."

Checking his wallet, he chugs down a glass of water before calling out to his sister. "Pizza or Thai?"

"Thai!" She calls back right while hopping into the shower, and Leon nods to himself, shouting back that he's gonna go pick up some food.

Sarah occasionally stays over for the weekend when she's got some time off from university, which doesn't happen that often, so he cherishes every time she comes over.

He's not necessarily lonely — he considers his colleagues as family. He does. But it's still Sarah he cares about the most, and he's happy to see her happy, to see she's getting the future she wants. That's all he's ever wanted for her.

When he returns to his place with dinner in a plastic bag, he's surprised to find that the front door isn't locked anymore — and he never leaves his door unlocked.

So he instantly becomes more alert than he already is. It's already his second nature to look over his shoulder, but still.

He carefully enters his apartment, frowning to himself when he hears his sister's voice, sounding engaged in some conversation.

And then he hears yours.

He walks through the small hallway only to see you seated at his kitchen table, talking to his sister with the biggest smile he's seen on your face in ages — but that's not what he's looking at.

The only thing he can focus on is the revolver you're pointing at the girl under the wooden table, something only you and him are aware of.

His breath hitches in his throat, because he knows what the consequences are if he tries anything.

You really weren't joking when you said you'd go after his sister. He genuinely didn't think you would do it.

It's something he's done to someone else while working for Umbrella. He did it with this hint of smugness on his face, just like you are right now.

You're him — but worse. Which scares him, because you know about his insecurities, you've seen him at one of his weakest moments, you know what he values in life... and seeing you clearly aren't on his side anymore, that makes you dangerous. An actual, really big threat.

His sister continues her storytelling while refilling her glass while you and Leon have the strongest and most tense eye contact he's probably ever had with anyone.

Acting on his instincts, his hand begins to reach for the pistol in his jeans.

And just like that, your finger moves to the trigger.

Notes:

ugh i have a love-hate relationship with this sequel. the idea was great in my head but writing the actual thing and being dissatisfied with the result sucks. i feel like i'm not delivering :( n also so sorry you've all had to wait so long !

hoping to get to more action stuff in future chapters ! please bare with me, i just feel a bit uninspired for this fic apart from the few things i've already written.

regardless of all that, thank you all so much for your support (huge shoutout to RascalRose in particular for buying me a ko-fi 33) and i hope you all have a good day! 3

Chapter 28: Act II - 6. Too Wild

Summary:

The tension only increases.

Notes:

content warnings: peak toxic relationship, leon harms/attacks reader physically, self-harm, sort of?, a very short sex scene, technically non consensual voyeurism? i don't even know

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Blood covers your fingertips when you put the revolver back in its holster. But it was there from the beginning.

It's not his. Not Sarah's either.

Leon releases the breath he was holding, the grip on his pistol loosening just a bit. He still finds it hard to fathom what just happened.

You didn't shoot. Why didn't you shoot?

The threatening look on your face disappears when you face the blonde girl at your right again.

"I'm sorry, but I gotta go. It's been lovely seeing you again, Sarah." The words come out of your mouth so smoothly; as if you didn't just point a gun at her under the table.

And contrary to his belief, your words are genuine. It really was nice to see her again, to see she's doing well. You believe she deserves to live a good life. It's not like you were happy to use her as some pawn in your game.

She even comes over to hug you goodbye. "It was nice to see you too. Take care."

Leon can see the surprised expression on your face when she does, your hands beginning to tremble — and every time he sees these hints of your humanity come flashing by, he grows conflicted again.

Every time he thinks he's figured you out, you manage to prove him wrong.

Swallowing, you smile at her before leaving, with Leon automatically following you. As expected.

Once he's pushed you out of earshot and closed the door behind him, he finally lets his emotions show. His rage and inner conflict have him breaking in front of you. "My sister? My goddamn sister!?"

"I warned you."

"What the fuck is this, huh? What's going on? Going through some fucking phase?"

What really pisses you off is the fact that he never seems to take you as an actual threat. Leon doesn't fear anyone. Even when everyone else is afraid of you, not him. It's frustrating. It sure as shit drives your bloodlust forward, because he needs to understand that you're willing to go very, very far to keep your business a secret.

"Unless you back the fuck up, I'll go right back in there. You know what happens next, don't you?"

"What the fuck makes you think I'll even let you back in there?"

"I can do what I want. I'm the strongest here."

And that's what makes him even angrier. You think you're so fucking untouchable with that strength of yours, toying with him, hurting him to the bone with your actions.

He understands he's made his own mistakes in the past. He truly does. But you're going too far. Not to mention he's got someone to protect from you now.

His eyes flick to the water tank behind you, then back to your pair of eyes, and his gaze could kill. "Are you?"

The words have your eyebrows knitted together in confusion, especially when he grabs you by your arms, just like he did back in Raccoon City, trapping you in his hold. He easily backs you up against the tank, and your breath hitches in your throat, because you're afraid he's going to do what you think he's going to do.

"Do you have any idea what standing in that room felt like? Watching you threaten the only family I have left? Do you have any idea how it felt when you stuck a fucking syringe up my neck? 'Cause I don't think you do."

In the blink of an eye, he hoists you up and pushes your upper body into the water of the tank, seeing your arms struggling to get back up to breathe.

You're stronger than him, way stronger — but for some reason, your body doesn't seem to be working with your head.

Memories of him attempting to drown Claire flash through his mind. "Goddamnit—" He cries out to himself, on the verge of tears while still pushing your head down.

Once he's decided it's been long enough, he pulls you back out, releasing you before you grip onto the edge of the tank to avoid collapsing onto the concrete floor. You instantly begin to cough, gasping for air, and he sighs to himself, leaning against the wall.

"Why didn't you kill me?" You ask once you've somewhat regained your breath.

Leon feels more depressed than ever when he looks at you with soulless eyes. "You know why."

And you face him while letting out a chuckle. "You'll never do it. Wow. No matter what I do, you'll never do anything to actually hurt me."

His eyes narrow. "I wouldn't push it if I were you."

"I already have."

His lips merge into a thin line, turning his voice into a mere whisper as he leans close to you. "You know, four years ago, working for Umbrella, I did some really fucked-up shit. I hurt you and I know that. But I'd never threaten to kill your loved ones. This is beyond low, even for you."

"Do I need to remind you that you threatened to kill my cousin, like, several times that night?"

"I was bluffing. I'd never kill a kid. Come on, don't be ridiculous."

You're tempted to say you were bluffing too, but in all honesty, maybe you weren't.

Silence creeps in, and you can see he's taking a deep breath with the way his chest heaves. "Had you been anyone else, I would've shot you on sight, right then and there."

After sending you such a deadly glare, he clenches his jaw and turns to walk away.

But you call after him. "'Had I been anyone else'?"

Leon stops dead in his tracks, humorlessly chuckling to himself before facing you once more. "I wish I could hate you. I really wish I could." He chuckles humorlessly to himself, his heart shattering.

He leaves you behind on the roof, having had enough of tonight. As he returns to his apartment and you to your car outside the building, you both feel defeated.

You find yourself gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles are white and tears stream down your cheeks.

Leon lets his back collide with the wall in front of the door, not going in yet — he doesn't want Sarah to see him like this.

His eyes are glossy, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to swallow the painful ache in his throat. He wants to rip out of his own skin and just stop all this shit. Everything is taking its toll on both of you.

When the door opens next to him, he can't avoid the worried eyes of his sister, who takes a step towards him to give him a hug. He doesn't even have the time nor the guts to protest.

For once, he embraces it. It's difficult to let someone in when all you ever try to do is keep everyone out. He doesn't want people to see his insecurities or weaknesses, and in all honesty, he doesn't want to see them himself either.

"What happened?" She quietly asks, but he hides his trembling hands after releasing her, going inside the comfort of his apartment and closing the door.

He just shakes his head. "We just had an argument."

Sarah bites her lip while trying to figure out what her approach should be here. "You know, you... you never told me why you and her broke up."

Her brother shrugs. "It just didn't work."

Wow. That's got to be his worst lie to date.

And the girl standing in front of him can't help but get frustrated, because to her, this isn't just about the situation at hand here. "Why won't you ever tell me the truth?"

"What?"

"You always expect me to be honest with you, but you never tell me about anything that's going on in your life. Not really. You're hurting and yet you won't share anything." She throws out, finally sharing what's been on her mind for several years now. "It's not fair and I'm sick of it."

"Except you and I aren't the same."

The statement offends her. "Why? Because I'm younger?"

"Just compare my life to yours. You live a normal one, I sure as shit don't. And yes, you are younger than me."

"How can I compare our lives when you don't tell me shit about what you do for a living!? You never once told me anything! I've just had to fill in the blanks myself for years."

"Well, sis, has it ever crossed your mind that maybe I keep my work hidden from you to protect you?" And as soon as the words leave his mouth, he tilts his head and his whole facial expression changes. "Holy shit. I need to make a call. Eat your food."

When he walks off to his bedroom to make said call, Sarah turns to him, brows furrowed. "We're not done with this conversation!"

"We'll talk about it later. Give me a moment." Slamming the door shut behind him, he clicks on the first number on his speed dial. "C'mon, pick up." He mutters to himself a few times, unable to keep it all to himself.

"You better have a good reason for interrupting my dinner here." Lloyd's voice cracks through the speaker of his phone, and Leon doesn't even reply to the sarcastic comment, immediately getting to business.

"What if she's forced to work for Umbrella in some way? What if someone's blackmailing her, or threatening the people she loves? What if she's doing it to protect someone?" He asks, mentally cursing himself for not thinking of this possibility sooner.

"In a normal case, I'd say it's a solid theory. I actually already considered it. Thing is — she's not normal. Who would she even be afraid of? I've already come to the conclusion she doesn't shy away from killing, so she'd certainly not be kind to someone threatening her."

Lloyd's words make Leon think about it once more, but he feels like he's on the right track here. Ensuring his sister won't hear anything, he quietly continues the conversation. "She threatened Sarah tonight."

"What?"

"Yeah, I... I came home to her pointing a gun at her under the table."

"Jesus Christ. How long is it going to take before she attempts to kill one of us, Leon?"

"I won't let that happen."

"Are you listening to yourself right now? This is insanity."

"She's doing these things because I'm getting too close. She knows I'm investigating the Umbrella situation, so she's doing everything she can to warn me and push me away without killing me."

"You're crazy. Both of you."

"Yeah." Leon pauses a second before he speaks up again. "I guess we always have been."

So far, not a single moment in your relationship has been normal. There's always been these things lurking underneath the surface. Secrets, lies, violence. Whatever you want to call the thing going on between the two of you right now, the toxicity seems to hit a new peak every day. But he can stop that. And he's going to stop that by saving you from whoever's doing this to you, even if it means saving you from yourself.

"For now, just... try to enjoy the evening with your sister. We'll talk about this tomorrow morning."

The two men quickly say their goodbyes and he puts his phone back in his pocket, shrugging off his jacket, leaving him in his white dress shirt.

He finds Sarah sitting at the table, eating dinner with a not-so-happy look on her face. Of course he understands how frustrating it is for her to not know anything about his work, but he's afraid she'll hate him when he tells her. And he is keeping it from her for her own safety too.

What's he supposed to do? Just tell her he's pretty much just an assassin for a living?

She remains quiet when he starts putting some food on his plate, so he takes matters into his own hands. "I do bad things. Which you're probably already aware of. I just don't want my only sibling to hate me, and I'm afraid you will if I tell you."

And when he hears her sniffing, he looks up at her, suddenly seeing the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "Do you remember when that special agent Smith came by four years ago? At our old house? I thought he was going to tell me you'd died. And later on, you actually got shot. It was your birthday and I didn't know where you were, I—I thought you were dead, Leon, fuck—"

One tear after another rolls down her cheeks as her emotions overwhelm her, and he can see she's starting to hyperventilate. So he gets up from his chair, giving her the hug she needs, his one hand stroking her blonde hair.

"I'm sorry. I really am." He whispers, kissing the top of her head, wishing he'd taken better care of her.

Once she finds herself calming down with his touch, she wipes her tears away, her vision clearing again. "I'm scared there's going to be a day you won't come back from work. That they'll tell me you died on some mission, doing a job I didn't even know about. And then I'll stand at your funeral as the only one who didn't really know you."

He had no idea she even struggled with this. He spends so much time worrying about others that he forgets he actually means something to others too. "Oh, Sarah... I'm sorry."

Both of them are kids who had to grow up too soon. Their childhood was awful, full of memories and traumas they'd like to forget. With Leon stepping up to be her big brother as well as her legal guardian, he forgets that others have their parents to talk to when it comes to their worries, more often than a sibling, and Sarah doesn't have that. She only has him, and with him gone most of the time, apart from her small circle of friends, she doesn't have a lot of people to talk to.

"I just don't want you to look at me differently." He says, doing his best not to choke up.

"I won't."

Instead of outright telling her, he moves to every room in his apartment to gather every piece of equipment he's got. Everything he's used to hurt and to kill. When he puts it all down on the kitchen table, Sarah takes a deep breath.

Shotgun, sniper rifle, handguns, assault rifle, taser, knives. He didn't bother with the rest he still has laying around somewhere. "This is what I do. After police academy, Umbrella recruited me as a mercenary, then we got caught and I switched to the CIA to, ironically enough, do the same thing for them — but legally. Sort of."

God, he just wants the ground to swallow him whole. Waiting for a response in this situation is nerve wracking.

But she just raises her brow, sniffing now that she's not crying anymore.

"Damn. Here I thought you were part of the mob."

It has him snorting at her stupid sense of humor. "Sorry for not living up to your expectations."

"Nah, regular mercenary will do, I guess."

"You're hilarious."

"I was always the funny one of us two." Sarah laughs, and her big smile just radiates kindness and happiness like nothing else. He's so relieved to see she doesn't seem to despise him yet.

Leon rolls his eyes, his head aching from the emotional rollercoaster of tonight. Scratch that — more like the past few days.

"Alright, I need a beer."

"Make that two." She grins, getting up from her chair. "I'll put something good on the TV."

And she pats his shoulder while passing by him, a gesture to show him everything's good between them. He runs a hand through his dark blonde locks, smiling to himself when he opens the fridge.

But you, on the other hand, are not so happy. You look at yourself in the mirror, standing in the bathroom of your apartment, looking at the red handprints on your neck.

Your heart beats like crazy from stress, you're covered in scars, bruises and even some dried up drops of your own blood — all of it inflicted by the experiments. You just consider it plain torture at this point. It's nothing more than that.

While you have the abilities that you do, healing your body can go faster or slower depending on your mental state. You hit a new all-time low every day now, it seems, and you've lost count as to how many times you've broken down the past week.

So it's no surprise that your eyes begin to water when you look at your reflection.

You're so utterly powerless. It makes your skin crawl, this strange feeling that's almost like claustrophobia kicking in. You need to snap out of it, and fast.

"Goddamnit!" You cry out to yourself, smashing your fist against the glass of the mirror again and again, a few broken shards falling on top of the sink and the floor. Your knuckles grow bloody from the impact.

Tears stream down your face as you hold your hands up as if they're dirty, not knowing what to do or think. It's like your mind is messing itself up by throwing every coherent thought together into one big mess, none of it making sense.

Yet your crippling loneliness is interrupted when you hear someone knocking on your door.

It's about eight or nine o'clock at this point, you're not completely sure. Who the hell even is it? Leon?

You quickly try to make yourself presentable, wiping away your tears and running a hand through your hair, but it does nothing for your bloodshot eyes and bruised hand.

Checking the peephole in the front door, you see your colleague.

The last one you expected. But you open the door regardless.

Kayoko looks at you with instant worry, clearly not having expected to see you in such a bad state. "Hey. Are you okay?"

The reply you give is clearly a lie. "Yeah."

"I, um... figured we didn't know each other very well, so I thought I'd stop by and see if you were in."

You raise your brow. "Did Lloyd send you?"

Yes. "No."

Just hours earlier, when she was having dinner with Lloyd — after he received the call from Leon — she noticed something was up, and Lloyd opened up and said he was worried about you. He encouraged her to check on you, so here she is; but she also does genuinely want to get to know you better.

"Hm." Is the only thing you can manage to say, and you once again wish the ground underneath your feet would swallow you whole considering how awkward this all is.

So she takes a bottle of wine out of the brown bag. "I got booze."

That's certainly something you could use right now. "Alright. Come in."

You direct her to the living room, then moving to the kitchen to grab two glasses. Once you get back and put them on the table, she glances at your hand. "That looks really bad, what happened?"

With your voice still scratchy and head numb from crying, you can't find it in you to lie. "I broke my mirror."

"You broke... how?"

"I, uh... accident."

Yoko blinks a few times. If anything, she feels for you, because she's got an idea how you broke it, which is pretty confirmed with your current state. "Do you have a first aid kit?"

"It's—it's under the sink. But I just need to put an ice pack on it and it'll be fine. You don't need to—"

But she already has it in hand, ignoring your stubbornness. She sits down next to you on the soft couch, closer to you this time, so she can properly take care of the wounds.

She's clearly very focused, and very precise in her handiwork. Weirdly enough, knowing that she's focusing on your hand more than on you in general is calming you a bit.

Her slender fingers are warm when they touch yours. "You sure you're alright? Your hands are really cold. And you look like you're burning up."

The concern in her voice is genuine, you can tell. "Yeah, just... a little out of it. Sorry. I wasn't really expecting company."

"I don't normally drop by like this. Y'know. Unannounced. Sometimes I let my impulsivity get the best of me, I guess."

"It's fine. I get it." You tell her, shrugging your shoulders. She finishes tending to your hand, and she wrapped it up nicely, you'll admit. "Thank you."

"Any time."

God, she's beautiful. Pretty girls make you nervous.

She pours you both a glass of wine, asking you the basic stuff. Family situation, what got you on the squad, eventually landing on the topic of your love life. Naturally.

"Oh, c'mon — I assumed you'd have a boyfriend waiting for you. Or girlfriend." She winks, and you chuckle, feeling a bit loosened up now that there's some alcohol in your system.

But you shake your head. "Nah. I'm all kinds of single. But I'm cool with it. I don't feel like getting into a relationship anyways."

"Ugh, I wish I could say the same. Unfortunately there's this one guy who constantly manages to worm his way into my head on the daily. I had dinner with him tonight. He's just... yeah. I don't even know."

Once her words actually hit you, you realize something — Leon was having dinner with Sarah tonight. So it's not him she was with.

Thank fuck.

She sighs. "I think I'm in love with him."

"You don't seem too happy about that."

"Well, you know how it is. Love is scary."

Damn. She's practically reading your mind at this point. "Tell me about it."

Yoko can see there's more going on than you're telling her, even in her not-so-sober state. "Have you ever been in love love? Like, the real deal. Marriage kind of real."

The way she words it makes you snort. What's even funnier is the fact that she doesn't know you're already married. "Yeah. Once."

"Judging by the way you're saying it, I'm guessing it didn't end well?"

You give her merely a half-smile. "No, it was a shitty breakup. Came quicker than expected."

She pouts her lips. "Do you still love him?"

With all the wine you've had so far, it's so easy to just let it all out. "Oh, yeah. I wish I didn't. He's infuriating. I remember when I met him, and I just knew I was gonna fall for him. He was so handsome, a few years older than me, well-dressed, charming, flirty. You name it."

The woman next to you is so invested in your love life that she urges you to go on. "He sounds cute."

"He was my first love. I don't regret anything I did with him, 'cause I wouldn't be able to picture my life without him. We fell hard and quick and unexpected, but... we just lived in two very different worlds, I guess. We never had the chance to actually be together. I think that's what hurts the most, what could've been. We loved each other but didn't have the time to truly explore it, enjoy it, savor it." You tell her, squinting after your own words hit you. "Wow, that was poetic as hell."

"Oh my God, if you don't get back together with him, I will stop believing in love."

You playfully roll your eyes at her comment. "Hey, get together with that date of yours first, alright?"

"Cheers to that."

Yoko is actually really sweet. It warms your heart and simultaneously breaks it in two, because you'd love to just go to work with her and the rest of them every day without the torture and the pain and fear you keep experiencing. You wish your life could be normal. Or at least a step in that direction.

If the deal with Umbrella goes quickly, you could get there. But it's taking too long, and you're starting to wonder how much more of this shit you can take — because you're starting to lose your mind here.

With the experiments continuing and all the blood on your hands, your mental health grows worse every day. You're occasionally forgetful, paranoid, afraid — with nightmares keeping you up at times you're supposed to be asleep.

Maybe you should welcome your eventual descent into madness. Sanity is overrated. It's gotten you nothing but frustration thus far.

But for now, you'll just have to stick with the plan of doing what you have to do and keeping your former lover at a safe distance. Even if you feel bad for hurting him. Hopefully threatening his sister was enough to get the message across.

The following morning, Yoko meets up with her two superiors in the office to talk about you.

"And? How did it go?" Lloyd asks as soon as she steps into the room.

"It went well. Surprisingly well." Carefully closing the door behind her, she sighs. "Maybe I was lucky to have arrived at the time I did."

"What do you mean?"

"When I got there, she'd clearly been crying. Her hand was all bloody and bruised. She admitted to smashing her own mirror. Honestly, she just looked... fragile. Broken, even. I think she needs help."

Leon glances up to the ceiling for a second. "Whatever she's secretly up to, it's messing with her head. I need her to open up. And to do that, I need a new strategy. Trying to push it out of her clearly isn't working."

"So? What'd you have in mind?" Lloyd questions.

He just squints in response.

"Oh, Jesus, if you tell me you're just gonna sleep with her again—"

"What? No, no, that's not what I meant. But it's... probably gonna happen again."

The dark-haired lady standing next to him waves with her hand. "Hold on, what?"

"Minor detail."

For a moment, she almost puts the pieces of the puzzle together, but she thinks it just can't be Leon you were talking about last night. He only met you at the same time the rest of the team did, right?

Leon speaks again before she can even attempt to voice her thoughts. "Helena Harper and Chris Redfield are close friends of hers, and they work for the government. Should I see what they know?"

"That'll piss her off even more, probably."

"I'm not giving up. She's not as untouchable as she thinks."

The man at the desk puts his glasses back on. "Whatever you decide to do, make sure it works. The clock is ticking and we still don't know what she's doing behind our backs. As of right now, she's proven to be a bigger threat than anticipated. I don't want to see her gone, because I know she's struggling, and she has great potential — so get her to open up."

Merely a few minutes later, Leon exits the office to go outside for some fresh air. He lights a cigarette, the first one in a very long time.

Yoko follows him, her boots standing firm on the damp grass. "Leon."

"Yeah?"

He knows she's serious when she crosses her arms. "Look, I don't know what's happened between you and her, and you don't have to tell me anything. But I know Lloyd — he's willing to go far to protect us, this squad. He won't take any chances."

"Do you have a point to make?" He's not usually this snappy, but the past few days have just been beyond shitty. He needs a vacation.

She sighs, pressing her lips together. "I think she's in pain. Suffering from... something. Show her that you care. Talk to her. When's the last time you two had a normal conversation?"

"I doubt she'd want to have a normal conversation with me, of all people."

"Then you're underestimating her and yourself. It's the least you can try. The only way you're gonna get her to open up to you is by doing it yourself first."

Her dark hair flips over her shoulder as she turns to leave him again, and her words hit him like a damn train.

Because they're true.

He can't even remember what your last proper conversation was about. Your communication is at an all-time low. It was better even in a place like Raccoon, for Christ's sake.

So aside from picking it as his new strategy to get you to confess, he'll also try to talk to you because Yoko's words worry him. Just because you're putting on this tough front doesn't mean you actually feel that way on the inside. He still cares about you. More than anything.

So later that day, around 10 P.M., he finds himself standing before your apartment. He doesn't actually have a plan, he won't know what to say or do — but he could care less.

Yet there's no response when he knocks on the door.

He notices that the door isn't properly closed, which sparks his curiosity. His hand moves to touch the knob and pushes it open just enough to check whether anyone's nearby.

The lamps of your living room are switched off, but he hears noise. He steps further into your apartment, moving to the source of it.

And he already has an idea of what it is, but he keeps going nonetheless.

Leon is good at improvising. Most of the time, anyways.

Yet he's frozen in his spot right now, his brain shortcutting, heart audibly beating in his chest.

He was just planning on talking to you, about... well, he forgot. It wasn't important. He just didn't think he'd find you like this — some girl's fingers buried inside you while you sit on her lap, naked, moaning and whimpering at her touches.

He's locked in his spot by the door, unable to tear his gaze off you. He's always thought you looked good getting fucked, but God, you look like a fucking goddess right now, with your disheveled hair, red cheeks and plump lips.

Mere hours ago, you were at a bar, drowning your sorrows when the girl came up to you. Strawberry blonde hair, pretty green eyes and a smile that made her look sweet but devious.

It all went pretty quick — she made you feel comfortable, you shared some drinks and flirty one-liners, and now she's about to make you cum on her fingers.

She moves them faster, burying her face in the crook of your neck when she leaves a few hickeys, causing you to turn your head to the side to give her access.

And just like that, you finally lock eyes with Leon, who's staring at you through the crack of the doorway.

Yet to his surprise, you don't say anything, still keeping your eyes on his, only closing them when you hit your climax.

A lazy smirk appears on your face, and either he's tripping or you're actually mouthing the words 'I love you' to him.

He scoffs silently out of shock and amusement. Oh boy is he obsessed.

The girl fondles your breast with one hand, moving to put her thumb on your lip and pull your face back, unknowingly tearing your intense gaze off Leon, her lips right back on yours.

Leon blinks a few times — because the dark look in your eyes got to him a little too much — and he silently moves out of view, trying to ignore his half-hard dick in his pants.

He feels... conflicted. Seeing you like that was one of the hottest things he's ever seen, but he's also jealous as hell, because it should be his fingers inside you, not hers.

God, do you know how to get under his skin. It's ridiculous how easily you do it. There could be a thousand people in a room and you'd still be the only one to grab his attention.

You take his breath away. Time and again.

He'll get you to open up, he knows that much. No matter what — and once he's done that, he's gonna get you back.

Notes:

dang. i really didn't want leon to be physical with her in the way he was in this chapter but story-wise it was the only proper response. threatening his sister is a death sentence for everyone, reader being one of the very VERY few exceptions.

i actually already wrote the ending and it just makes me sad to be saying goodbye to this pairing (in several chapters time ofc, not quite yet!) but i do hope you're all enjoying the ride so far! thank you all for reading 3

Chapter 29: Act II - 7. Improve Your Deficit or Die

Notes:

content warnings: explicit sexual content, dub-con (both under the influence), don't be fooled by the sexy stuff bc they're gonna cry afterwards, whole lotta angst, someone gets shot, major suicidal thoughts at the end

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The next day, the five of you are gathered in the conference room to go through the progression of the few cases you've been working on, both individually and collectively. You've got bags under your eyes, putting very little effort into hiding them this morning. You just couldn't find it in you to care.

Your daily life feels like a blur. Everything that's happened in the span of just a few weeks makes it feel like months have passed.

While Leon still excels at his job, he finds himself more and more uninterested in it. Everything that's been going on surrounding you and Umbrella has occupied his mind nearly entirely. It's practically all he can think about, and it's driving him nuts. He still doesn't have the answers he wants, and it's about damn time he gets them.

You most certainly wouldn't agree with that.

As you and Leon make eye contact, Neal looks at Yoko, wiggling his brows to insinuate something.

The thing is that at this point, both of them have come to the conclusion that you and him have some kind of relationship that nobody knows about. In all honesty, it's not just the two of them who see it, it's pretty much everyone in the department.

No one has actually been able to work out what that relationship is. Are you sleeping together? Exes? Formerly intense platonic friends? Literal partners in crime who have robbed multiple banks together? Who knows.

Well, Lloyd does.

The poor man just can't seem to get any of you to focus today. With you and Leon silently hating on each other all the time, Neal as usual doing everything except the one thing he gets paid to do and Yoko somehow getting involved with it every time, Lloyd feels exactly like he did that one time he had to babysit four kids as a teenager.

There's a reason it only happened once and never again.

Just as he wants to say something about it, he's rudely interrupted when the door suddenly swings open.

Two agents of another department step into the room, apologizing for their interruption. Neal immediately decides he doesn't like the two agents that joined your meeting, something quite literally no one asked for.

His southern accent pops out more on certain occasions. "Don't y'all know how to knock?"

The men don't respond, and they don't even have to look at you for you to know why they're here. You already know what it means.

Nothing good. Because they report directly to Simmons.

Leon, being as observant as he is, notices something strange. The moment they stepped into the room, you tensed up, trying to hide your hands because you most likely don't want anyone to see you fiddling with your fingers.

It's a blatant sign of nervousness, one of your little tics, and he feels like something's wrong. Really wrong.

Because you seem so fearless now, around him and everyone else — but it all comes crumbling down the moment these men come to pick you up, taking you God knows where. "If you'll excuse her for the day."

One of them gestures for you to get up, and before you do, you unconsciously glance at Leon, making eye contact with him. You truly look scared. Leon doesn't know who these agents are or who they work for, so to say he's curious is an understatement.

They escort you out of the room wordlessly and close the door behind you. He makes a mental note to ask Lloyd about it later.

"You know what I've been thinking?" Neal begins, inspecting his wrist at the same time. "There's something off about her."

Kayoko snorts. "Have you looked at yourself?"

"I have. Many times. Not the point, Yoko."

"Aren't we all secretive when we have to be? That's what this whole squad is about." The woman responds, shrugging her shoulders. "She didn't exactly choose this life. None of us did. Not really."

"She looks like she's hiding something, that's all I'm saying. I like her. That's not the issue here."

Lloyd doesn't even look up from his laptop when he decides to join the conversation. "None of us are open books. It's part of the job."

Neal sighs, and there's only a moment of quiet before he speaks up again. "Even if she's potentially evil, she's kinda hot, or am I tripping? No, she's hot. Definitely."

Leon just can't help the chuckle that escapes his mouth, speaking up. "You're not her type, though."

"What? Why not? Have you seen my abs?"

"She's into older guys."

"How do you even know that?"

"Right. Good question. What do I know. I'm only her husband, after all." He responds nonchalantly, his gaze merely focused on the paperwork in front of him.

And that causes three pairs of eyes to look up at him.

Yoko nearly chokes on her water, and she and Neal speak up at the same time. "You're married!?"

"Yeah."

"For how long?"

"Few years now."

"So then why do you act like you're divorced?"

"None of your business."

"Oh no. No, no, no. This is too good." Neal says, sitting up in excitement, because this is the best thing he's heard in a while. "We have to call the national newspapers, get CNN on the phone, because, what the fuck. Our very own Leon Kennedy — a married man? Wow. I ain't gonna lie, I did not see this coming."

He can only roll his eyes at his colleagues, who are still in shock, and Yoko turns to the their superior at the desk. "How are you acting so naturally? Did you know? Oh my God, you knew!?"

Lloyd looks up at her with the tiniest hint of a smile. "Perhaps."

"Oh my God, you're him! It's you!" She points at Leon with her finger, having her own little Eureka-moment, which has everyone else raising a brow at her, because no one knows what the hell she's talking about.

"What?"

She slaps his arm a few times, realizing he's the guy you told her about the other night. "It's you! You're the guy!"

Leon grabs her hand to stop her from hitting him in excitement. "Listen, you sound like you just inhaled nitrous oxide and you look like you're on cloud fucking nine, which is great, but I would really appreciate it if you stopped slapping me."

And Neal just can't help the way he cracks up at the sight of it. "Look at her face. Like Helen Keller touching water for the first time."

"Neal." Lloyd interrupts, unintentionally sounding like a tired parent, unable to focus on the task he was working on.

But he just completely ignores him. "What did you do to her though? She's on the verge of like, full-on despising you. For some reason."

"Figure it out." Leon responds, standing up from his seat, because he's got places to be, people to beat up, and a wife to annoy.

"I've tried, Kennedy. And failed."

"That's because you're a guy of profoundly limited intelligence. See you guys tomorrow."

As he leaves, he still hears the youngest of the team yelling at him. "I knew you were a romantic!"

Leon rolls his eyes to himself when he closes the door behind him. In a way, it feels nice to have the information out in the world, even if he's fucked up a lot back then.

But for now, he chooses to push it all away from his mind. He's been keeping his eye on you, so he intends to make your evening a whole lot more interesting.

Several hours later, you clean yourself up in the shower. Turns out Simmons was angry about something and decided to take it out on you, calling it 'preparation' for Siberia.

You can only pray that damn trip never comes.

His methods are painful, tiring, often making you pass out for a while. It's become a routine. You never thought it was going to become this normal for you, but it is.

That's why you decide to distract yourself after eating some shitty takeaway. You get into a pretty dress, do your makeup and hair, changing into this person that's the complete opposite of who you are right now.

The awfully high-priced bar you later find yourself in is more crowded than usual tonight. The weekends here are for having fun with friends or lovers, weekdays are for the people drinking their sorrows away.

And just the regular alcoholics.

Though this evening, there was an exclusive auction, so naturally there's more customers. The bar is part of this old, beautiful estate, of which some rooms on the two upper floors have been turned into hotel rooms.

With the soft red seats spread across the room and chandeliers twinkling with dim lighting, it's perfect for any occasion. You can sit directly at the bar, on a high stool, or in a more private corner — usually where rich men meet up with their mistresses, or highly expensive escorts.

Only people with quite the bank account tend to come here, and in all honesty, they have good reason to. The place comes with a warm and contemporary atmosphere that only adds to the charm of the place.

But since you're here alone, you sit on a high stool, wearing a one-shoulder velvet red dress that hugs all your features just right. Your makeup consists of a few shades of grey on your eyes and just some chapstick on your lips, a darker look than you usually tend to go for.

"Drinking away your sorrows?"

The familiar voice makes your ears perk up, eyes rolling. He's the last person you want to talk to right now, yet he's here, undoubtedly ready to ruin your night.

So you roll your eyes at him. "What do you want?"

"Right now, I just want a drink."

After giving you a response, he sits down on the stool next to you. "This isn't exactly your scene." You judge after he's given the bartender his order, and you both know you're right.

Leon might fool people at first with the way he dresses and walks, having them get the idea that he comes from money, but it couldn't be less true. He can't stand the spoiled rich brats and problematic millionaires he spots in places like these, so he'd never even set foot in a bar like this one out of his own free will.

But you're here, and he wants to talk to you.

"Didn't think it was yours either."

You actually match with him quite well in terms of outfits. His expensive three-piece suit, the red tie, your dress — you even look married.

He shamelessly eyes you head to toe, then casting his eyes back up at you, and you like the way he looks at you. You always have. Truth be told, you'd absolutely fuck him again if he wasn't constantly prying into your private life.

"Quite the show you put on last night." He mentions just as he moves to take a sip of his whiskey.

The corner of your mouth curls up into a small, devious smile. "Well, believe it or not, I didn't think I was going to have an audience. What were you doing at my place anyways?"

"Doesn't matter."

His nonchalance has you grinning knowingly at him. "Cut the crap."

"About what?"

"Am I supposed to believe you're just here, with me of all people, for a drink and some small talk? After what I did to you this week?"

It's a solid point. He wonders how he even managed to get over all of it so quick after realizing you may have a good reason for keeping your business hidden.

Yet he shrugs casually. "Yeah."

It makes you scoff, and when you move to grab your purse, he puts his hand on your arm. "Wait."

"I'm not falling for your little act, alright? I'm not."

"Listen, I just need a drink. Don't you?"

"I do. Just not with you."

"Sweetheart—" He begins, then cutting himself off to carefully choose his next words. "I won't bring it up, okay? I just... I feel suffocated by everyone and everything around me right now."

And while he doesn't actually say it out loud, you both know what the next sentence would've been.

I need you.

To be fair, it would be kind of nice to just be able to talk to him with no underlying intentions — but you're certainly not telling him that. You roll your eyes and sit back down on the stool, folding your hands together. "Fine. But you're paying."

"Yes ma'am."

Hours later, you can't exactly remember all the things you've talked about. You've had several drinks at his point, and since neither of you are lightweights and eager to prove that point to the other, you both down a shot.

"You won't drink me under the table, Kennedy." You tell him smugly, and he merely raises his brow at you, then moving on to pour another one with the way too pricey bottle you've ordered for just the two of you.

God, you don't even know what you ordered, exactly. They just gave you some strong stuff, and it doesn't taste nice in the slightest, but you rarely meet anyone drinking vodka or tequila because they actually like the bitter taste of it.

He clenches his jaw, feeling the liquid burning in his throat.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"That already was a question."

"When you held Sarah at gunpoint — would you have really hurt her? Were you actually ready to?"

The question makes your lips twist together in a scowl for a moment. "What's that catchphrase of yours? 'Don't ask questions you already know the answer to, it's not polite'?"

It is his catchphrase, in a way. One of them. And you've memorized every word. "Except I don't know the answer to this one."

Leon doesn't often share his doubts, especially not to someone on the other side of the fight. It intrigues you — so you decide to grant him this for once, an answer. "I don't know. I don't know what I'm capable of anymore. It's all a big blur."

"I've been there." He says while adjusting his sleeve, rather surprised by your honesty but not showing it. "You're an awful lot like me now."

"Oh, c'mon. We're not the same. We never have been."

"Hate to break it to ya, but you're a cardboard copy of me, Sweetheart." He raises his brows once before taking a sip of the drink in front of him. "I was you before you even knew I existed."

"Bullshit. I'm not doing it for money."

Oh, fuck.

And that's when you realize you just gave him information willingly. Not much information, but it's something.

It has your eyes widening, and Leon just can't help the small, ever-growing smirk on his face. "That so?"

With plenty of alcohol in your system, you pinch the bridge of your nose with closed eyes, huffing to yourself for being so damn stupid. "I hate myself."

He watches you like a hawk as you down another shot, his eyes squinting when he leans closer to you, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "Why are you so hellbent on keeping it a secret? What'd you do? Can't be much worse than the shit I got on my conscience."

Oh, he's close. He's getting too close.

Back to the cold front you go.

"Careful, Leon. You know what happens when you stick your nose into my business."

"Maybe I like the challenge."

If there's one thing Leon excels at, it's maintaining strong eye contact. He makes you nervous in the every sense of the word — good and bad.

He takes your breath away. It's impossible to ignore it.

The noise all around you seems to have faded into the background. Your faces are closer now, voices lower and quieter, the conversation more intimate.

"You really shouldn't." You tell him, lips parting as you try not to focus on his.

But he's so deep into this that he can't stop. "You never back down, do you? Constantly baring your teeth to everyone. Must be exhausting."

Finding yourself becoming weak in front of him, you agree almost mindlessly. It is exhausting. "Y-yeah."

"So stop doing it. Let all of it go. Isn't that what you want, Doll?"

God, it feels like forever since he's called you that. You find your heart fluttering with the softness of his voice and touch, and you try to keep yourself in check, which proves to be difficult with the way he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I can't." You whisper, suddenly feeling fragile, opening up to him while your head is telling you not to.

"No, I know." He acts as if he's inspecting your face, fingers lifting your chin, not making any eye contact. His voice sounds too sweet, too understanding, with this manipulative undertone. "You're so scared of losing anyone you care about, so you push those who mean the most to you away, because no one can take away what you no longer have."

"What are you doing?"

Leon chooses to ignore your question. "Well, we still have unfinished business. Should've been nicer to me, Princess. You didn't think you could pull all the stunts you did without consequences, did you?"

He's not actually mad about those things anymore. Now he's just using it as an excuse to get with you.

Raising your brow, you don't understand what's going on when he leaves a few twenty-dollar bills for your drinks on the counter. He takes your hand and intertwines it with his, guiding you out of the bar to get to a less crowded part of the estate.

He drags you inside a dimly lit room, backing you up against the wall, his hands cupping your face when he kisses you, touching you as if it's the first time seeing you in years.

Whatever you expected him to do, it wasn't this.

He kisses you hard. It's messy and rough and has your brain shortcutting, the only things going through your head being the sounds that he makes, the feeling of his fingers on your skin and the needy ache in every part of your body.

The way his hands fist your hair and rub down your curves tells you one thing.

This time, it's about him. He's in control. Who knows, maybe you'll challenge him a little.

You'll never not get dizzy from the way he gazes at you, touches you, kisses you. The hold he still has on you is ridiculous — but you can't help the fact that he makes your knees go weak.

Maybe it's because you're not together that you're both so willing, so desperate. He touches you like it's the last time he ever will, kisses you like his damn life depends on it.

His fingers move to dig into the back of your thighs, lifting you up, pushing your body against the wall. The feeling of his hot breath on your neck and lips latching onto your skin has you whimpering already.

While doing it in public does turn you on in some situations, it also tends to work on your nerves, because the door next to you has a lock — which is only useful if you have the key for it.

"What if someone walks in?"

"Then they can see how it should be done."

You roll your eyes, every sense of rational thinking getting overshadowed by lust. "Is that what you were doing last night?"

He knows you get a kick out of being a brat to him, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it as well. "Nah, I only came to watch you."

"Bet you did." You say with a giggle, making him smile into the crook of your neck.

The dress covering your skin slowly begins to feel suffocating. One of his warm hands intertwines with your cold one for a second, excitement and adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Leon is a selfish man. He takes what he wants and he's good at it. You know exactly that he's about to do just that when he sinks to his knees in front of you, pushing the soft fabric of your dress up to your hips.

Somehow, you find it in you to let out a weak protest. "There's people here—"

"Then you better keep your mouth shut, Sweetheart. I'm gonna get to work whether you like it or not."

He makes sure to put your bare legs over his shoulders right after removing your red thong, his tongue finally touching the most intimate parts of your body again after so long.

You instantly release a gasp when he does, fingers latching onto his hair. He traps you in his hold with your thighs plush and warm around his face, drinking in your cunt, — devouring you like a man starved. "Fuck," he slurs into your heat, muffled and hot. "Missed doing this."

His determination to give you the best head you'll ever have is quite something. He knows exactly what you like, and it's so nice to be with someone who can tell just what you need.

You're pretty sure this is the closest you can get to heaven — especially when he moves his left hand to have two of his long fingers pushing into your hole. You let out an embarrassingly high-pitched moan from the sudden intrusion, after which you slap your hand over your mouth. He hums against your pussy out of amusement.

When you keep unintentionally closing your legs from the building pressure, he forces them open, his expression turning into a glare. "Keep 'em open."

Whining out from him softly pinching your already sensitive clit, you bite your lip in a sad attempt to keep quiet.

Your hands scramble to find a hold onto anything near you as he rocks you forward, just so he can push his tongue as deep as it can go. Your arousal is starting to drip onto the floor, some of it trickling down his jaw, and he relishes in it.

"F-fuck, too much, too much—" You cry out above him, eternally thankful you've got a wall behind you once you come undone. He feels your body trembling, the grip on your thighs becoming harder as soon as he notices you can barely hold yourself up.

He's so hard in his pants that it hurts. It takes longer than usual for you to come back to your senses, but you eye him up and down just like he did earlier tonight, and you know one thing — you're not done with him.

So as he takes a few steps back, you take off your heels, backing him up until he has no choice but to sit down in the chair behind him.

He enjoys the sight of you walking up to him, sitting down in his lap with all the confidence in the world. You undo his belt to free him from his boxers. Hhis hands automatically slide past your thighs when you sink down on him, and he gets short flashbacks of that moment you did the same to him in the car a while ago.

It doesn't take long for you to set a quicker pace. You hold his face in your hands, not slowing down. Both of you have grown incredible stamina with the training you receive, but he's panting heavier than you are. Which is rare.

Overheated from your warm weight on him, he grunts like he's in pain, nearly choking at the feeling of your wet walls sucking him in with the movement of your hips. And you're just so greedy and determined to see him crumble underneath you.

A belittling chuckle escapes your mouth. "Look at you. Getting topped by a girl." You just can't help toying with him now that you've got him in the palm of your hand, both of you overcome by lust.

"Shut the fuck up or I'll bend you over the sink." He bites back, glaring up at you, but he is enjoying this. Even if he won't admit it out loud.

After all, you know him well enough to see through his lies. You both know he wouldn't let you go this far if he didn't want it.

Yet like the little brat you are, you push him a little more. "This what you do with those girls at the strip club too? Let them—ah—ride you into oblivion? Did they get your little dick wet?"

That's when he grabs your neck, hard enough to leave a bruise — something he knows you're into — which makes you halt your movements instantly. His face is awfully close to yours when he bites his lip. "Little?"

Okay, so, maybe you pushed it just a bit too much.

But boy are you glad you did.

He manhandles you by pushing you off him and turning your body around, bending you over the sink just as he said he would.

He shoves himself inside you as deep as he can go, a cry leaving your lips from the sudden and almost painful move. He can't help the mean smirk on his face as you immediately grab onto him for support.

"What's the matter, Sweetheart? You can handle it, can't you?" He chuckles darkly, enjoying the control he has over you.

His hand dips lower to smack your ass, a grunt escaping his mouth. He plans to make it just as red as your dress.

It's the first time that he's truly back in control again since that night years ago, so naturally, he's making it his mission to remind you what it felt like.

He fucks like it's the last thing he'll ever do. You were foolish to forget that. He has you seeing white with the friction of the heavy weight of his balls slapping ruthlessly against your clit.

When he hits that particular spot inside you, your body instantly gets caught between wanting to squirm away from the intense pressure and wanting to fuck yourself back on it.

"Don't even think about getting away or resisting me. You're gonna take everything I give you." He tells you, reading your mind, a ruthless slap to your ass paired with his hand jerking to back to him.

He didn't even know you knew about him going to strip clubs. You've really been watching his every move, and for some reason, it makes him pound into you just a bit harder.

God, he would give every fucking penny he owns to see you on a stage like that.

You're mewling underneath him, body weakening while his hips violently snap against you. He watches your face as you take him in the mirror, and he knows it hurts, knows your tears are genuine but God do you look pretty taking it so deep.

He's so relentless, pushing your hips higher and higher, slurring mixes of praises and degradation. "C'mon Sweetheart, work for it. Least you can do after sticking a fucking syringe into my neck last time."

His tone is teasing and condescending. Even when you pout your puffy lips and nod your head, Leon just laughs breathily.

He momentarily kisses your temple and shoulder to let you know he's still aware of your comfort. He's not a complete asshole. If you were truly at your limit, he'd stop.

But you're not. Not yet, at least.

You whimper at all his touches, too blissed out to say anything that isn't his name. Your legs are trembling and vision blurring, addicted to the way his thick cock feels inside you.

Leon's composure from earlier frays at the seams as well, sweat beading on his forehead, trickling down his neck. You're both getting closer and closer to your release.

And he just can't help the way his true feelings spill from his lips, teeth gritted and jaw clenched.

"Fuck you." He hisses under his breath, fucking you harder. "Fuck you for leaving me."

You're barely able to comprehend what he's saying, but you know that his words make you even weaker in his hands. "I'm sorry." You moan out, fingers gripping onto the sink with everything you've got.

"I'll make you feel sorry." His hand finds its way to your neck, dragging your upper body flush back against his.

When you look at the way he's holding you in the mirror and feel him thrusting so hard that you see stars, you let go with a whine, coating him in your wetness.

He's so close. He's so fucking close. It's impressive that he hasn't pumped you full yet with the way you look right now.

"Harder. God—push back against me. Take it like you own it—c'mon."

He hisses and gasps when you do, pleasure coursing through his body and eyes rolling back. His chest heaves up and down when he tries to get some air.

As you come down from your high, a sense of clarity comes back to you. It's like you straight-up fucked the majority of the alcohol out of your system.

Both of you get dressed again, and you sigh in realization that you can't dwell on your feelings for him. You hate yourself for giving in to him so easily. "I gotta go."

Leon tries his best not to look as hurt as he is once the words have left your mouth. He hates having no aftercare after sex. Especially with you. It's the second time it's happening and he realizes that it's affecting him. He suddenly feels insecure.

Unfortunately, it appears you've already made up your mind.

"So is this what we do now?" He questions nonchalantly, hoping you won't be able to see how he really feels. "We fuck two or three times a week and then go back to hating each other?"

"I guess so."

"And that's what you want?"

"It's not about what I want, alright? Just... don't."

"Why are you acting like you don't have any say over your own decisions?"

Maybe he'd understand if you just told him. Maybe he wouldn't. It doesn't really matter anyways; you're simply not allowed to.

So when you leave the room with your clothes and coat back on, you don't miss the puzzled look on his face. It's so blatantly obvious he's trying to put the pieces together, and if he had the missing ones, you're sure he'd figure it out in no-time.

You take the backdoor, purposely not going to the somewhat crowded drive-in.

The dark sky is so clear of clouds to the point you can see the moon and the stars in all their bright glory, and being outside instantly makes you feel just a bit less suffocated.

But not for long.

"I'm sure the higher-ups will be happy to know what I've just witnessed."

Now that's a problem.

The thing is, he'd never go to the men in charge willingly, especially not to rat you out. That's not who he is. He is, however, occasionally a manipulative asshole when he needs to be.

It's no surprise when you stop dead in your tracks, clenching your fists. If Leon does go to them with this, you're done for, because Simmons would find out about everything you've been doing behind his back. The pain you're receiving will only get worse.

Maybe even deadly.

"You wouldn't."

He wouldn't. "I would."

He can see that the panic is starting to settle when you walk back to him. "If you care about me even the slightest bit, you'll leave this alone. Pretend it never happened."

"I'd be telling them for your safety—"

"They'll kill me, Leon!" You almost yell at him, flinching at your own tone and teary eyes. "I'm important to them, but not that important. They'll kill me."

He's trying to figure out who 'they' are. "Listen to me. You're playing a dangerous game, working for two sides — double agents always end up badly hurt or dead. More often the latter."

That just makes you scoff. "As if I give a shit."

"You should if you value your life."

"Never said I did."

"You clearly do, because you just said you were afraid they'd kill you."

"Yeah, they'll kill me, but only after murdering the people I love first. I can't exactly have that on my conscience."

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, refusing to say anything else to him.

He hates it. He can't stand the fact that you still don't trust him enough after everything you've been through together. Can't you see how much he cares for you?

So you clench your jaw, hoping he'll leave it alone, but he doesn't. He wants answers. So it's him who breaks the silence.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

You press your sharp nails into the skin of your palm.

"I never said I did."

Leon shakes his head behind you. "You never had to. All I want is to know why."

Finally, you turn around, facing him. Maybe you just don't care anymore. Why not just tell him what part of your relationship has been fucking with your head for the past four years? Why the fuck not?

"I sacrificed my life for someone who wasn't worth it. You weren't worth it, Leon."

The answer is like a hard punch to the throat. While it hurts like a bitch, he's also confused, because he's not sure what you mean by that. "Sacrificed your life?"

"They didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

You try to push the words out of your mouth, simultaneously forcing yourself not to choke up. The face you make and the way you talk sound like you've got your sanity and calmness hanging on by a thread, which is closer to the truth than you might think. "After you took those bullets and nearly died in my arms, more armed soldiers showed up. Thing is that I noticed you were still breathing. I could've run and saved myself, but I didn't. I told them I would do whatever they wanted as long as they saved you. And then, and then, I hear that fucking recording in the interrogation room, and I realize what a fucking idiot I am."

He listens to your angry and bitter explanation with a deepening frown and watering eyes. "I didn't know."

"No, you're right. You didn't. But that's not even the thing. You didn't even try to mend our relationship. Then later on, I hear from everyone that you're not just the biggest flirt around, you've also fucked the vast majority of my female colleagues."

"What—I started sleeping with others only after you started seeing someone else!"

It's true. For him, at least. He caught on to rumors about you being all sweet on one of Helena's colleagues, and someone confirmed it. Maybe he was so out of it at that point that he didn't think to question whether it was all true or not.

But for you it was the other way around, yet the same story. You thought he was the first to sleep with someone else.

You're quiet for a few seconds. "I sacrificed pretty much everything by agreeing to that deal. My life is a living hell, my loved ones are in danger, people hate me, I was given a bad reputation for no real reason, and you? You got off scot-free, doing essentially the same work you did for Umbrella, your sister now under the protection of the government, everyone loves you, and you even managed to protect your precious reputation by hiding all the shit you pulled with me! And you have the sheer audacity to ask why I don't put my fucking faith in you? The last thing I need is to get betrayed a third time, you jackass."

He doesn't know what to say. He truly doesn't.

He didn't know that you've been suffering like this. He feels like a complete and utter idiot for fucking up the way he did, and he knows an apology is not gonna cut it.

As a matter of fact, he doesn't think anything's gonna cut it. You truly do despise him.

The last glimmer of hope in his eyes fades and his shoulders shrink inward as guilt and sadness overtakes him. It only took one conversation for his self-worth to crumble completely. "I'm so sorry. I never meant for you to get hurt. I'm sorry."

The rising pain in your throat makes you realize that it won't take much before you break down in front of him.

So you give him a final insult before taking your leave, your strained voice giving away that you're about to cry.

"I should've left you in that field and let you bleed to death."

And that's what utterly breaks him.

You may as well have just driven a knife through his heart. It would've been easier to endure than this.

Once you're gone from his sight, he still hasn't moved. Even if he feels the tears streaming down his cheeks one by one. Then his hand reaches for his upper body, the pain in his chest becoming too much. He moves to the nearest wall and lets himself lean back against it, the weight of his body suddenly feeling too heavy for his legs to support.

He doesn't know how much more of this he can take.

Several hours later, Claire Redfield walks back into her office with a few files in hand, clutching them to her chest as she absentmindedly scrolls through her phone.

When she spots her three colleagues hunched over their desks, her survival instincts immediately kick in. The sight reminds her too much of Raccoon City — it looks just like the undead officers in the police station.

Then the door shuts closed behind her quite loudly, and she sees you standing there, a neutral look on your face that quickly turns into a mocking one.

"Honey, you look awful."

Claire deliberately ignores your comment, coming to her colleagues' defense. Your messed up state doesn't go unnoticed by her, though. "What the hell did you do!?"

"Relax, they're alive. For now. Can't say the same for the security guys at the door, though."

Her hair sways with her movements. "If you hurt them—"

"Shut up and sit down." You say sternly, not giving a damn about whatever she was going to say.

"Like hell—"

And you just don't seem to have a single fuck to give. Claire finally seems to realize that when you put your gun to the back of the head of a woman she works with on a daily basis. "If you make me repeat myself, you're one colleague down, and I won't stop there. Capische?"

Clenching her jaw, she sits down at her desk, and you do the same across from her.

"How many files do you have on me?"

"You just told me to shut up."

"And now I'm telling you to speak. I'm having your friends at gunshot right now. What are you, twelve?"

The redhead scoffs out of pure anger, but knows it's for the best to just give in right now. "A basic one, revolving around your identity and capabilities. Also a few pictures of you with alleged Umbrella agents."

"Delete them."

"You really don't think we made copies?"

"You'll destroy the copies as well. I find out you haven't — you know what happens to your friends."

"Believe it or not, we haven't found that much."

"And yet you found enough to contact a man you hate, solely to take me down."

"We want Umbrella gone. For good. That includes everyone in on it."

So that means you're polar opposites in this situation. Well then. You're certainly not one to back down from a challenge.

"So what does that mean? You're gonna kill me?"

"Not necessarily." She shrugs, crossing her arms. "You could still leave the organization."

Nothing comes out of your mouth for a moment until a humorless chuckle escapes your lips. She's a fool if she thinks she can convince you to quit the deal. "You're joking, right?"

"Why are you even with them?"

"You're not getting shit out of me, Claire. Stop trying."

"Look, I don't know what the actual fuck happened to you in those four years, but either you're straight-up insane or desperate for something."

God, you're starting to wish Leon had actually succeeded in drowning her back in Raccoon City.

"And which do you think it is?"

"What I think is — this isn't you. Even if we didn't leave each other on good terms, I never believed you were despicable."

Her words don't mean much to you at first, but once they truly hit you, you feel that smug smile on your face faltering bit by bit. It's affecting you and both of you know it.

"Yeah, well, people change."

"Apparently. Because you've become a real bitch whereas your husband is now the more likable of you two."

Her mentioning Leon pisses you off like nothing else. "I'm so fucking sick of you people pretending I'm the villain and he's some saint."

"I never said he was. I know what he did to you. He told me what happened and why you broke up." She tells you, convinced that she can talk some sense into you here. "He was wrong for doing that to you. But you are the villain here, not him."

"I'm not—"

But Claire isn't done yet. She's raging, her nostrils flaring up as she finally speaks her mind on the matter, words unfiltered. "You are! All we're trying to do is take down a dangerous company that threatens the lives of innocent people, and you're the one working for them, doing their bidding. How can you even live with that on your conscience!?"

"I'm not doing it because I want to, I need something from them, Claire! I can't fucking live without it!"

"Then maybe you should start wondering whether it's worth it!"

"You'd rather see me dead and Umbrella gone than what's going on right now." You say, scoffing to yourself when her silence and glare confirm your statement.

She remains quiet this time. You feel cornered, panicked — anxiety going through the roof. Her eyes soften once she sees your state of distress, her mean but somewhat understandable words coming back to her.

When you suddenly hear the front door to the office open, you grit your teeth. She must've alerted someone, because everyone else is out cold and there's not supposed to be anyone else at this hour. "Who did you call?"

"No one."

Claire Redfield should really understand at this point that you don't mess around. You use the pistol in hand to shoot her in the leg, right in a spot where you know it hurts. She could even bleed out to death with a wound like that. Screaming out in pain, she collapses onto a desk, so you make your escape now that she's too busy taking care of her injury.

You should've shot her in the head. Why couldn't you just do it?

Leon made his way to Claire's given location as soon as he saw the message. Now he finds her here, trying to stem the bleeding of the bullet wound. "What happened?"

"Your girlfriend happened. Ow, mother—" She cuts herself off when he puts her hand on the wound properly as he prepares to apply a makeshift tourniquet.

"Why did she come after you?"

"She knows we met, somehow."

"Fuck." He shakes his head. "I'm sorry you got involved in all this."

"Leon, you have to take her down. She's the one thing standing in the way of us taking down Umbrella. She's their biggest weapon."

"It's more complicated than that."

Claire is frantic in her attempts to convince him. "She's not the person you met in Raccoon City, you know. Do you really think she'd hesitate for a second to kill you?"

And he answers her rhetoric question faster than he should, his heart speaking and his head ignored. "Yeah, I think she would."

At least he hopes you would. After the things you said to him, he's not sure anymore.

"Fine. You keep believing that. See where that gets you."

While tending to her leg, he gives her a piece of his mind. "Let me make one thing clear. I know that she's changed. I know she's a bad person — but me and my squad know more about her current situation than you do, because it isn't all black and white. If anyone's gonna take her down, it'll be us. You'd do best to stick to your little research."

The redhead certainly has fire in her, because she's still fuming, but she chooses to let it go. Leon wordlessly throws her arm over his shoulder to get her into his car, still having the decency to get her to the hospital for treatment.

What they don't know is that you were hidden closeby, listening to their entire conversation.

Tears spill from your eyes silently, and you clench your fists, hoping that the lump in your throat will go away.

But you know it won't. It only grows bigger, more painful, to the point that you reach for your throat, as if it will change anything.

What the hell are you even doing? Turning everyone you care about against you, one by one. All you can think about is who you need to go piss off next. It hurts like hell, contrary to what Leon and Lloyd and Claire might think.

But her words had a bigger impact on you than you'd like to admit. You are wondering whether it's all worth it — what is your life compared to that of thousands of others? You're so broken already, what's the point?

Overwhelmed by emotions, you reach for your face and hair, feeling like you're going insane. It just all needs to stop. You just want to be at peace, you don't want to hurt anyone.

Yet you feel like a miserable, lonely, cruel monster.

You've wanted a way out for so long. You've tried to hold on for so long, you have — but you just can't do it anymore.

So instead of burdening everyone around you with the task of killing you, you decide to do it yourself.

Notes:

while this is the longest chapter of the sequel so far, it feels a little short. we're definitely reaching a breaking point in the story here. i think the fic will probably end somewhere around chapter 15 or 16 :)

anyways i have three birthdays coming up this week (including my own) so it's gonna take a while for me to update. thanks for reading 3

Chapter 30: Act II - 8. 'Til Death Do Us Part

Summary:

Your mental health drops to an all-time low.

Notes:

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS BELOW CAREFULLY
chapter contains the following:
mentions of torture and abuse, attempted suicide, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, several panic attacks, overall a very long, heavy, sad, depression-focused chapter.

if you're uncomfortable with reading this (which is completely fine), don't worry, i'll make sure to do a recap of the whole thing at the end of the chapter. (please be aware that depression is something each person suffering from it experiences differently. i used to suffer from it myself and will therefore put my experiences into this chapter, and it may or may not be representative for others suffering from it. if you feel you need help or your mental health is decreasing, please seek out help from professionals. stay safe. x)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

At nineteen, you don't know who they are. The men in the black uniforms. You don't know the middle-aged man in front of you, with dark hair, a golden ring on his index finger and a somewhat cheap-looking suit. He introduces himself to you as Derek Simmons.

It's a name you will learn to fear later on. A name that comes with pain and cruelty.

He watches you and you watch him with mutual distrust. He and his men have more faith in your newly gained abilities than you do. They've set up a program for you, one that comes with more pain and suffering than you could ever imagine.

It starts with simple training. Fighting techniques, foreign languages, working with firearms, operating vehicles, the list goes on and on. They want you to be an elite agent, even without your strength. They're shocked at how quick you progress. You're a good student, eager to learn, even.

They take everything. Your saliva, your hair, your blood. They scan your body and measure your heart rate, breathing and brain waves. Every test is overseen by a pair of hazel eyes.

He never tends to trust his subordinates. Especially not with this. With you. You're too valuable for that.

They tell you that the higher-ups have high expectations of you. If you don't do well, there's a good chance they just might get rid of you.

The pressure weighs heavy on your shoulders. Too heavy. He tells you you're nothing but a malfunctioning weapon, even though he knows you're more than capable.

So your training becomes harder and tougher. They weren't kind to you before, but still.

You argue with them at first. The violence and abuse starts with harsh slaps that echo against the stone walls of the training facility. It shouldn't come as a surprise to them that you try to escape from them weeks later.

You fail, and are reminded that the consequences to you running are very real and very serious. They threaten you by holding a gun to the head of your loved ones when they sleep.

Because you have no free will. No say in your limits or what you can and cannot handle. You're U.S. Government property, after all.

So after being locked up in a cold and small solitary cell for hours, several times, you stop struggling. Or at least, you try.

They want you to be the perfect killing machine. No hesitation, no regrets, nothing. At twenty, you kill a target for the first time. Without having to put up a fight. A simple assassination with a silenced pistol. You don't know his name.

The second kill doesn't go as smoothly. A short fight. Your opponent is very skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but you manage to win. You broke her neck in under six minutes. Simmons tells you it's something you should feel pride for. Instead, you feel guilt. You're haunted by the sight of her bloody face at night. You remember when Leon told you about his first kills. It scares you.

The list of assassinated targets becomes longer and longer. At twenty-one, you've lost count. You don't know how many you've killed. The screaming, crying and whimpering of your opponents has become a familiar sound to your ears.

The experiments become much worse. They want you faster, stronger, tougher. Your veins are flooded with power and pain. So much pain. Simmons watches you writhe with barely concealed satisfaction.

At night, you wish there would be someone to hold you as you shake and cry. The cold reality is disappointing and depressing. No one knows what you're going through. You're not allowed to tell anyone. Everything is classified.

You need to find a way out. Somehow.

At twenty-two, you reach out to Ada Wong. You may have grown harder, but deep down, you're scared of everything. Your fears are like shackles around your wrists.

She does you a favor this time — one that will need to be repaid in the future, no doubt — and puts you in contact with the lead scientist working at the apparently rebranded Umbrella. He sees great potential in you, and you strike a deal with him. You kill for them and they give you the one thing that should give you freedom.

Maybe there is hope.

At twenty-three, Simmons declares you to be one of the highest-ranked agents in the agency. The higher-ups confirm this, and you're quite literally described as a $50 million dollar weapon in your file.

Looking at your own reflection is never easy. That reflection of yourself comes to you in the form of Leon Kennedy. You're two sides of the same coin. You stare down at him with raging anger and somewhat fake pride and see your own steely determination staring back. After years, the roles are completely reversed.

What's perhaps the worst is that you can now understand why he did the things he did.

He can't find out about the Umbrella deal — you know he'd do everything to stop you. You can't let your feelings get in the way. You've suffered too much, survived too much to cave now. This is the only way out.

You're not weak. You cannot be weak.

But you care too much. You've destroyed friendships for this. Isolated yourself from everyone you love. You've become a despicable person. A ruthless killer with a heart that chooses to interfere at the worst moments.

You hate yourself.

It's just not worth it. You really thought it was — you really thought you were cold-hearted enough to pull it off.

You're not. The things you said to Leon pushed you to realize that much.

It physically hurt you to say those things to him. You threatened his sister, shot Claire, lied to everyone around you, toying with their faith in you as if it was nothing.

Now that several days have passed since your argument, you only feel worse. So does your former partner.

Leon believes he's never felt like this. As if he's going through his worst breakup, which is ridiculous, because you two weren't even together in the first place.

He hasn't seen you since that night. Lloyd told him you called in sick the morning after, which was on Wednesday, and it's Friday now, so he doubts you'll be coming in today.

Maybe it's for the best. You can't properly work as a team like this anyways.

He walks into the office with his fourth bad headache this week. He hasn't been able to sleep properly since that night. Guilt has been eating him up alive, something he just finds awfully difficult to deal with.

Why the fuck did no one tell him that he's alive because of you? Does Lloyd know? It's insanity.

And of course he understood you still held a grudge against him for lying about knowing who you were. He understood that.

But he never thought you also blamed him for fucking others, because he genuinely thought you'd moved on from him, and that you were the first to do so. And he never knew it was you who saved him after he was shot.

He feels like a real, real big douche now.

The rest of the squad can literally feel that something has happened, given the fact that you haven't been doing missions for days and Leon straight-up doesn't say anything. At all. Not even a single sarcastic remark. He makes little to no eye contact, and when he greets people, it comes out like a forced mumble.

It's strange and out of character. Truth is that he's just sick of everyone and everything right now.

Lloyd has tried talking to him, only to fail at his attempts of getting anything out of the guy. You're both utter messes, and he doesn't know why.

While Leon may not have seen you since that night, Lloyd has. If he thought Leon was already doing bad, you're much, much worse.

He knows you're not physically sick. He's seen you train, as you're doing right now. It's scary, almost.

Words Simmons has said to you go through your head like a mantra. You're weak. They're laughing at you. They hate you. Everyone hates you. Tears are going to fix nothing. Turn it into something better.

The anger is radiating off your body. It has for a while now. Everyone around you can see it. You're a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

It's particularly worrying to Lloyd, because while Simmons may relish in seeing you turn your anger into power, he doesn't. It does you more harm than good.

Especially since your conversation with Leon, you've been restless. You've tried to push those awful thoughts away, but they only worm their way into your head more and more.

If you're so strong, why don't you just do it? One pull of the trigger and that's it.

Your apartment is a mess too. Mirror still broken, fridge practically empty, unopened mail on the coffee table. Sometimes you're afraid of seeing your own shadow on your bathroom wall.

It's no wonder that your mind has been at its chaotic peak for the last few days. You can't seem to focus on anything, hands trembling, a constant pressure on your chest. It just keeps getting worse and worse. You're not sure what to do about it.

In a cotton gown, you lie down on the scanner's table. Every once in a while, you have to partake in an MRI scan at the hospital. Simmons takes every measure humanly possible to keep track of your physical state. It's bullshit, but you don't have another choice.

While you have slight claustrophobic tendencies, you've always managed to keep calm and relaxed during the scans. It's crucial that you have to lie completely still in order to get results.

But today, once the nurse has slid the table into the small cylinder and the awful noise begins, you don't feel as calm as usual.

It sounds like being in a workshop. Hammering, drilling, sawing, sometimes an old telephone ringing, clicking, whirring. It's incredibly loud, but you know it's something you have to go through with.

Yet as your eyes look at nothing in particular, your breathing becomes heavier. Horrifying and traumatic flashbacks are the only thing running through your mind. It's as if everyone is yelling at you about your wrongdoings, all at once. You're left in the MRI for an hour listening to nothing but your own thoughts.

Somewhere in the distance, you can tell that the doctor is saying something to you through the intercom, but you can't tell what. You can't focus.

Once you start panting, unable to breathe, you realize you're stuck. Completely stuck. You need help. "Let me out." You whisper, voice breaking, but it's not nearly loud enough for the doctors to hear anything.

Midway through the scan, you start completely breaking down. You push against the cylinder, yelling for help, and it's finally enough for a doctor to come in and stop the MRI. There's no one you trust here to give you the comfort you so desperately need.

The nurse helps you calm down, and you finally regain the ability to breathe and think somewhat properly.

You try to reach out, but you're slowly sinking into a pit of darkness, scrambling for a hand to pull you out from its depths.

And you just can't do it anymore.

That same day, around nine in the evening, Leon huffs to himself. He's had a long day, so he's on his way to tell Lloyd he's going home.

Before arriving at the man's office, his phone rings in his pocket. When he sees it's you, he wants to ignore it, but he's too curious to know what you have to say to him this time. Not like you could insult him any further.

"Hey, handsome. It's been a while." You let out a giggle. "Two weeks? One?"

"Five days." Leon mutters, frowning at your strange statement. How do you lose track of time that badly?

"Right. Five days. Sorry."

"Why did you call?" He asks you, hoping to get to the point, because all he can think about is those mean things you said to him.

"It's the last time I... no, fuck." He hears you swallow and whimper audibly, almost like you're in pain, which has him raising his brow.

"You alright?" He asks just after he's opened the door to the office, and his best friend sits there with confusion painted across his face, because he doesn't know that it's you at the other end of the line.

Leon may not be a doctor, but he's got more expertise than most people do, so he can easily tell something's really off with your breathing — which is what makes him silently snap his fingers at Lloyd, signaling towards his phone. The man understands the hint and types away at his keyboard, managing to not only listen in on the call, but also starting to track down your location.

With the system they've got for high-level operations at the agency, it takes ninety seconds for them to be able to track someone down based on a phone call with a prepaid phone, which means he needs to keep you talking, because he's got a very bad feeling about this.

You would never call him like this if something wasn't wrong. Certainly not after what happened.

At that moment, the two other members of the team walk in, furrowing their brows when they hear your voice echoing through the room.

"I, uh... I called 'cause I wanted to apologize."

He recognizes something in your shaky voice. You sound scared. Really scared. Which is wildly unlike you nowadays.

"What's going on?" He breathes into the phone, blinking rapidly, unsure why he feels something close to dread starting to pool in his gut. He feels a sense of powerlessness washing over him. "Where are you? Why do you sound so out of breath?"

"'Cause I—" You laugh, but it doesn't sound happy at all — the warped sound gives away your sadness. "I got a bullet wound. I'm, uh, bleeding out."

His heart is beating like it never has before. He's never heard you sound so afraid, not even back in Raccoon. His training kicks in, his head trying to force himself to put his emotions to the side.

"Where are you?" He demands. His voice turns into something harsher and stricter as he becomes desperate. If you've been shot, it'll be harder to keep you focused. "Who shot you?"

And that's when you suddenly break. Your voices is strained, a sign you're going to cry, and your hands begin to tremble even more than they already were. "I couldn't do it, Leon. I tried to shoot myself in the head, I did, but I just couldn't pull the trigger. I couldn't—"

He swears his heart stops right when the words leave your mouth. "Where are you? I'm coming to get you."

But you don't tell him that. You called him to tell him what you so desperately need him to know before it's too late. "I'm sorry for everything that I did. You didn't deserve any of it. I'm so sorry, I just—I need a way out."

Leon's on the verge of tears, and he's choking up already. You're about to commit suicide and he doesn't even know where you are. "Please, just tell me where you are. We'll figure it out together, okay? Please. Are you home? Where are you?"

"I didn't wanna say goodbye to you." You sob, trying your best to put everything into words as your mind is far from clear. "I didn't, because you—fuck, you are the only one who could make me stay. I was lying when I said I should've let you die, because—because I would do it all over again if I had to. I didn't mean those things I said to you, I didn't—"

He tries to calm both you and himself down, because you're on the verge of hyperventilating. "I know, Sweetheart. I know you didn't. I just need you to tell me where you are."

"I love you so much. I really do. I know I acted like I didn't, but I—I do. Really."

"I love you too. So much." He manages to choke out, afraid you'll hang up any second, and with his phone to his ear, he shifts his gaze upwards in the hope the tears will stop coming. "Please don't leave me. I need you."

"Forget about me. It's for the best." You tell him sternly, and with tears still rolling down your cheeks, you end the call.

He looks at his phone with widened eyes, and everyone is completely shocked at the whole exchange. Yoko has tears in her own eyes as well. No one had any idea you were suffering like this, or that you were ever going to do the one thing you're about to do.

Lloyd gets up from his seat now that he's managed to track you and your whereabouts on his computer. "She's thirteen miles from here. Looks like she's somewhere in the woods. Get to the garage, now. We may be able to save her before she does something stupid if we get there quick enough."

His attitude might be a bit cold, but he knows that's exactly what the team needs to find you in time. Someone who can still think rationally and somewhat put their emotions to the side.

Leon is normally the one who does so, but Lloyd can see that his friend is out of it as of right now.

They all make haste to leave, taking two SUV's from the garage in the basement, underneath the offices.

Yoko sits behind the wheel, and Leon doesn't have to tell her she needs to speed it up. Neither of them gives a shit about the speed limit right now. The highway thankfully enough isn't crowded.

He's frantically trying to call you back, but it keeps going to voicemail. He can only sit helplessly in the passenger's seat and hope that it's not too late.

This is the most stressed he's ever been. He doesn't know what to do, and if there's one thing he hates, it's feeling helpless. Which is exactly what he's feeling right now.

"Come on, pick up, pick up—" he mutters to himself breathily, his voice shaking and barely audible.

Yoko floors the gas pedal, undoubtedly going so fast that she could lose her license, but she doesn't care. She silently begs for it to be enough.

She takes the right exit and runs a red light, taking a left to get on the forest road, and she already sees Leon taking off his seatbelt from the corner of her eye.

The car slows down. Yoko decides to put it at the side of the road, and Leon gets out of the car as quickly as possible, mindlessly slamming the door shut.

Their eyes widen and movements come to a halt when they hear a loud gunshot in the near distance, one that scares the birds away and echoes underneath the bright light of the moon.

Leon doesn't hesitate to run to the source of the noise, mentally begging for you to still be alive.

You've shot yourself for a second time, but still not in the head, simply because you don't seem to have it in you.

Blood seeps out of the fresh bullet wound, and you're not sure whether your vision is blurring from all the tears or the blood loss.

It's so dark here. You can barely see anything. Your mind is spinning, and to be honest, you're unsure of how you even got here in the first place.

With your body hurting, you lift the gun up again, pointing it at your forehead and closing your eyes. You're surprisingly calm right now, but you can barely feel your limbs.

"Just do it." You whisper to yourself, unable to then keep yourself from sobbing as you repeat the sentence over and over again. "Do it. You can do this, you can do this—"

You're so focused on the pistol in your hands that it takes you a moment to register what's happening.

Something suddenly drags you down into the dark, pulling on your body, and you yell for it to stop. You don't understand what's happening, as if your mind isn't working properly. "Wait! Wait! Stop! Please—"

Chanting the words like a mantra, you keep screaming, tears running down your cheeks, unable to think clearly.

"It's me!" A familiar voice speaks behind you, but you can't comprehend the situation quite yet.

"No! Don't fucking touch me!"

"It's me! It's me, Princess, it's me. I got you."

He grabs your face to make you look at him. In your disoriented state, after constantly attempting to push the thing grabbing you off of you, something in your mind finally clicks.

With shock, you finally take a good look at the man holding your face in his hands, and you see him sitting there, nodding his head to gesture that you're safe. "Leon?"

His eyes soften at your vulnerable state in front of him. "Yeah, it's me."

"Oh my God, no, you can't—y—you can't be here—"

You're fully hyperventilating, heart pounding painfully in your chest as your breathing remains rapid and uneven.

"It's okay, Doll." He can quite literally do nothing but focus on your saddened expression. Just that look alone rips his heart up into broken pieces. "Deep, long breaths. Breathe with me. You're okay."

It takes a few minutes to really calm you down. You're still twitching, feeling numb after the sobbing and hyperventilating, eyelids moving shakily. "I can't do this." Your voice is tiny, quiet — so quiet that he almost missed it.

"It's okay. You're safe now."

He holds your hand, which is still trembling, but you shake your head as you squeeze your eyes shut from the emotional pain. "Please just kill me. I can't do it anymore."

Nothing could have prepared him for that. He tears up hearing you say this to him, and he shakes his head. "You're safe with me, alright? Everything's gonna be okay."

"You should've killed me back in Raccoon." You tell him with a sore throat from the screaming, tears now running down your face as you sob, weakly pushing against his chest. "Why didn't you kill me, Leon?"

It reminds him of the moment he was close to dying in your arms, when he told you he deserved to die. It kills him inside and hurts his heart.

This is his fault. He caused all this pain. Your pain.

As you both sit on your knees in front of each other, his cold palms on your cheeks, and the sight of you just makes his eyes water. The fresh tears rolling past the dried up ones, the scratches and drops of blood on your face, your eyebrows knitted together, the sorrow in your eyes.

It's like he can genuinely see the loneliness emitting from you.

"Breathe for me, Sweetheart. I got you."

He wipes the tears away, gently shushing you, and it helps. Your sobbing falters and the tears stop coming, feeling his arms wrap around you, and you hold onto him as if your life depends on it.

Leon closes his eyes when he takes a deep breath, cradling you.

He made it in time. He saved you in time.

It's so quiet suddenly. Your breathing has become steady, his as well, and each of you find comfort in holding the other for a moment like this.

Then he gently pulls your head away. "Hey, we should... we should get you out of here."

You nod in response to his words before he helps you up to your feet, and you feel how utterly weak your body is.

As Leon puts your arm around his shoulder and his around your waist to hold you up, you see Lloyd walking up to you, his phone in hand, and your anxiety immediately rises again.

"Did you call anyone? No one knows, right?" Your eyes move rapidly, gaze shifting from Leon to Lloyd to the others who can do nothing but glance at you with worry.

"No. It's just us." The tall man responds, getting closer to you. "We need to get you to a hospital."

But you're already shaking your head before he can even finish his sentence. "I can't go—I can't go to the hospital, it'll all be on record, I can't—"

"Just a check-up. No one needs to know about what happened." Poor Lloyd just wants to make sure you're well taken care of, thinking you're merely embarrassed about the whole thing, but that's not it.

The thing is — if Simmons even as much as catches a rumor about you getting hurt, he'll find out exactly what's been going on. You can't risk it.

Leon feels there's another reason why you're saying this, so he steps in. "It's okay. She's gonna stay with me."

Once Lloyd frowns at his words, Leon just shakes his head to him as he moves back to you. He's afraid you might harm yourself if you're left alone, so he lifts you up. "C'mon. Let's go get you warmed up."

He carries your limp body to the car, gently putting you down in the passenger's seat. Without telling you, he carefully but subtly checks whether you have anything in your pockets you could potentially hurt yourself with, but finds himself sighing in relief when there's nothing there.

He looks at your tired, injured but healing form and finds himself shaking in shock.

A few feet behind him stands the team. They've all grown to care about you in their own way, gotten to know you as this incredibly strong person — to see someone so strong become so fragile this sudden touches their hearts.

And what perhaps touches them even more is how utterly, completely broken Leon looks. He's biting his lip to stop himself from tearing up, because he doesn't want to be selfish. He can't break down now.

Yoko wants to comfort him, but when she moves forward to touch his arm, he flinches and takes a step back. He's gotta stay strong for you. "I can't—I gotta help her." His voice breaks in the middle of his sentence, but before he can leave, he sees Neal walk over to the car.

The three of them watch wordlessly when he talks to you, unable to hear what you're talking about, but Leon recognizes a soft giggle coming from you, and in a way, it calms his heart. For now.

Neal gives you a hug and closes the car. Leon finds it admirable that a boy who grew up so alone knows exactly how to take care of those around him — but he's got a lot of love to give. And he was the first of the squad to put his trust in you as a colleague and friend, after all.

"She's exhausted. Don't overwhelm her, make sure you keep her calm. Let her cry. She might open up, she might not. Whatever she does — listen to her." He tells him, and feeling the pairs of curious eyes on him, he shrugs his shoulders a little. "I've experienced something like this before."

Leon nods and touches his shoulder. "Thank you."

Not wanting to be in this place any longer, he walks off, sitting down in the carseat. He drives off quickly, seeing you're mindlessly staring out the window. As if your body is close to being lifeless.

He doesn't know what to say. Should he even say anything?

"I'm sorry." He hears you croak out quietly, your voice sounding all kinds of broken, and his brows knit together.

"Don't be sorry, Sweetheart. You've got nothing to apologize for."

It's quiet for the rest of the ride to his apartment. His phone rings once, but he ignores the call. Once you've arrived in the parking garage and Leon helps you out of the car, this stomach-churning burning throughout your entire body, and you reach for your chest.

Leon carefully but silently guides you to his front door, his heart rate still going faster than normal. It's as if he's still afraid something could happen to you.

"Fuck." You mutter as you quickly limp over to the bathroom, unable to resist the sudden gross feeling rising from the depths of your throat.

Leon holds your hair up as you throw up what was probably your last meal. Sweat is beading on your forehead and neck, a painful ache and pressure inside your chest fighting to get out, all as you cling to whatever cabinet stands next to the toilet seat.

"Please don't look at me." You whimper, feeling so numb that you don't have the energy nor the guts to look up at him. "God, this is disgusting."

Yet your husband doesn't seem all that bothered by your puking as you are. "You're not the first girl whose hair I've had to hold, believe me."

Even at your lowest, you still know how to crack a joke. "You sure know how to woo a girl, don't ya?"

"I was talking about my sister, Sweetheart. And yeah, I do." He retorts playfully, the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips.

You roll your eyes. "Whatever floats your boat."

He hands you a piece of toilet paper to wipe your mouth with. You huff in your exhausted state, finding the smallest bit of comfort in the feeling of the cold bathroom floor underneath your hands.

Leon sits across from you with worried eyes as you close yours.

He has so many questions. So many things he wants, no, needs to know, so many things he's trying to understand, so many loose ends.

He doesn't say a single one of them out loud.

"Hey," he gently speaks and nudges you. "How about you go on and take a shower? I'll make a cup of coffee or tea... whatever you feel like having."

Him being so kind to you is something that saddens you and makes your heart flutter at the same time. "You're being too nice for me."

"It's the least I can do for you."

"It's not." You tell him, speaking the truth. "I don't get why you'd even save me in the first place."

Leon averts his gaze to the ceiling for a moment as he thinks about your words. Not that it changes anything.

It's almost funny — how you seem to have little idea of how much you mean to him.

His voice is so utterly strained by his throat closing off that the words sound like a mere whisper. "I would give away everything I have... for you. Everything."

Guilt overtakes your face as you remain quiet, unsure of how to respond to that. You know he loves you, you do, truly — you just don't understand why.

It almost feels like you're undeserving of the unconditional love he has for you.

Once he's stood up from the floor, moving to get you some of his clothes, you find a small bit of courage in the depths of your soul.

"Would you really?"

His heart gets stuck in his throat and he blinks almost dumbly, surprised you're even asking. Maybe it's finally getting through that head of yours — maybe you finally understand that he wouldn't mind if you ripped his heart right out of his chest.

"You know I would."

A connection like the one you share has got to be one of the most complicated things in the world. The things you'd do for each other are ugly, with no regrets, which probably should feel so wrong — but it doesn't.

Maybe you're both mad.

Five minutes later, you're standing in the shower, barely able to hold yourself up with shaky legs. The dirt and blood is rinsed off your skin with the lukewarm water.

Closing your eyes, you try to fight off the train of miserable thoughts worming its way into your head again and again, but you can't succumb to it. You just can't.

Yet once you're out of the shower, dressed in Leon's shirt and sweatpants, you feel this terrible guilt creeping in.

God, you're so embarrassed. You must've looked so stupid for attempting something like that, and now he feels forced to take care of you.

And you throw up again, silently crying because you know your mental state isn't going to get better. This is all your life is ever gonna be.

"Sweetheart?" He softly knocks on the door after noticing you were throwing up again. "You alright?"

While he made sure to remove his razor blade from the bathroom, he's scared he may have missed something in the heat of the moment.

"Just... just give me—" you can't find it in you to finish the sentence.

It's silent, except for the sound of your quiet sobbing, and he clenches his jaw. You've locked yourself in his bathroom, silently breaking down, all while Leon begs for you.

"Please talk to me." He pleads, feeling utterly helpless. He doesn't know what to do — he wants to bust the door in and give you the biggest hug but has to grant you your privacy and space.

"I'm sorry." You choke out. "I can't, I'm sorry."

"No, you don't..." He takes a shaky breath, on the verge of breaking down himself. "You don't have to apologize, I... it's on me. I got you into this mess."

"Pretty sure this is the mess I got you into."

He slightly chuckles at your response with teary eyes. "Don't feel guilty. Please don't."

"Unfortunately it's not really something I can control."

Sinking down onto the floor, against the still locked bathroom entrance, he tries to think of what to say. He's not good at this stuff, and right now, he really wishes he was. He takes a deep breath and just chooses to speak his mind. "You're not the burden you think you are."

"Liar." He hears you say softly at the other side of the door, and he sighs.

"Not right now."

You snort.

"I feel like shit. Never been more embarrassed." You admit after a brief silence.

He doesn't want to make this about him, but maybe telling you this will make you understand that he can understand your pain. That he somewhat knows what it's like.

"I thought about doing it too, you know. When I was younger. Before you met me."

The words have you frowning to yourself. It's almost hard to imagine someone like him reaching an all-time low like you have, but when you think of the things he told you about his childhood, it would make a bit more sense.

"Did you ever... try?"

"No, I... I didn't have the guts for it, I guess. I'm glad I didn't. And I felt like leaving my sister would be like betraying her, setting her up for more pain than she was already getting." He elaborates, his brows knitting together as he remembers. "But I wanted to get out of that place so bad. So fucking bad. It was like... like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, knowing you're never gonna reach it, no matter how long or fast you run towards it."

And that's exactly how you feel.

"Fuck." You mutter to yourself, trying to downplay the pain in your chest and the tears pooling at the corner of your eyes.

"But you know what the thing is? I had someone who pulled me out of there. It's not gonna magically dissolve itself, it takes time and I know that, but... I want you to know that I'm here for you. No matter what."

The lock clicks and the doorknob turns.

You're standing there, clearly upset as sadness overtakes your face, and suddenly he's afraid that he may have said the wrong thing. "Fuck, I... I didn't mean to make you cry—"

His mind blanks when you hug him, and you embrace the warmth of his body. It's a silent way of thanking him, and for once in his life, Leon feels like he's finally done something right, something good.

After about an hour, once you've eaten something and had more casual talk with him, you lie with your head on this thigh, finding comfort in the softness of his bed.

He's mindlessly taking strands of your hair, twirling them together or making the tiniest braids as he talks about — well, nothing really important.

"You shouldn't stroke my hair, Kennedy."

He chuckles at your tone. "Why?"

"'I'll fall asleep."

"You've had a long day, Sweetheart. Sleep would do you good."

"No, 'm afraid to go to sleep. 'Cause of the nightmares." You mumble into his chest, already half asleep from his touches and your tiredness.

He keeps stroking your hair nonetheless. You begin to snore softly, which is his cue to kiss the top of your head and leave the room.

The door is left ajar, just in case. He doesn't want to take any risks.

Once he's out of earshot, his throat immediately begins to ache, and he just completely breaks down. He cries and sobs, finally able to let it all out.

He grabs his phone. Normally, he deals with everything on his own. He wouldn't burden anyone else with his problems, but this time? This time he just can't do it.

"Hey, Leon."

God, he can barely manage to get anything out. "Hi."

"How is she?"

"She just fell asleep."

"Good. She needs rest." She tells him, and when he stays quiet, she goes on. "Are you okay?"

He wants to say that he is. That he's fine. That he can handle it, but he reaches for his forehead and speaks his true feelings. "I don't—I don't know what to do. What do I do?"

"Leon—"

"She nearly killed herself because of the shit I got her into. She was about to—I'm responsible. It's my fault, it's all my fault, and s—she's not okay. I just—" He pants, stuttering in the sudden panic attack he's experiencing.

"Calm down, alright? Just calm down."

"What am I gonna do if she tries it again? What if she—"

"No, stop. I need you to stop." Yoko's voice is stern, demanding, as it's clearly the better approach right now. "She's safe with you right now. I truly don't believe she'll try it again."

He's quiet as his heartbeat slows down. "The fact that she tried to do this says enough, right? I wasn't there for her."

"Take a deep breath, alright? I know it's easy to blame yourself, but there's undoubtedly more going on. You should try to get some sleep too, Leon. Tomorrow's a new day. She wouldn't want you to stay like this all night either."

"Yeah." He nods, then remembering she can't see it. "Just, uh... just tell Lloyd and Neal, okay? Tell them she's alright."

"I will. Goodnight, Leon."

And then he exhales, doing his best to push the weight of the world off his shoulders for now. He gets ready for bed and moves under the warm covers next to you, breathing shakily when he looks at your peaceful form.

He needs to repair the damage he's done. Somehow. Maybe it won't be possible to do that completely, but he'll try. For you.

Notes:

— BRIEF CHAPTER RECAP —
for those who decided to skip the chapter due to the warnings

Chapter starts out with an explanation of how Reader came to be the person she is now. Both her and Leon are angry at the other after the argument from last chapter. Reader has a MRI scan at the hospital and has a panic attack which is the final trigger that leads to her suicide attempt. Reader calls Leon and tells him that she's sorry for the things she did to him and that she loves him. Leon frantically tries to stop her from killing herself as the rest of the squad listens in, but she hangs up in the middle of their conversation. Lloyd is able to track down her location, and the four of them manage to get there quick enough to save her from hurting herself even more. Leon takes Reader to his apartment and takes care of her, feeling guilty, knowing he's partially responsible for her depression, deciding that he'll do everything in his power to repair the damage he's done.

—

oof. was hesitant about this one but i knew the moment i came up with the sequel that this was going to happen. it's the turning point in their relationship, as painful as it may be. next chapter will involve a highly anticipated moment, i think :)

Chapter 31: Act II - 9. Beyond Good and Evil

Summary:

You and Leon open up to each other, but not without consequences.

Notes:

content warnings: mentions of torture, symptoms of ptsd, pretty much the worst possible aftermath of a suicide attempt, leon himself is already a warning but he gets hella angry here which can only mean one thing, aka brutal murder™, symptoms of psychosis

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It's about three in the morning when you suddenly wake up from a deep sleep. Noticing you're on your own, when you're pretty certain you felt Leon getting into the bed just a little while after you fell asleep, your brows furrow. Where the hell is he at this hour?

Your curiosity gets the better of you. You move away from the comfortable mattress and take the vest you find on a nearby chair, slipping it on.

Pulling the sleeves up to your knuckles, you wrap your arms around yourself to find Leon sitting on the balcony. You slide the glass door open, and he turns his head to your direction, eyes softening when your lips curl up into a tiny smile.

"Hey." He murmurs, allowing you to sit down on the soft seat next to him. "How're you?"

"I'm okay." You shrug. "Is this what you do when you can't sleep? Sit on your balcony with a cigarette and a glass of scotch?"

"Occasionally."

"And that does it for you?"

"It does."

You roll your eyes at him, enjoying the surprisingly nice temperature outside. "What's on your mind?"

"What do you think?"

How could you expect him to think about anything else? Anyone else?

"Hm." You only hum curtly, sitting down in front of him rather than next to him. Eye contact feels like a little too much right now.

Leon sees that and he's okay with it. Sitting behind you, he gestures for you to sit between his legs so you can lean back comfortably, which you do. He mindlessly takes your hair, playing with it gently.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

His words break the short-lived silence. You shake your head, leaning back a little. "No. Slept really well, actually. Better than most days."

"That's good." He murmurs, the pads of his fingertips massaging the back of your head so you can relax a bit.

It's nice to be able to spend time with him like this. You feel so at ease when he's taking care of you.

A sigh escapes your mouth when you stare at the view of the city, all the skyscrapers, cars, streetlights... and yet it's so quiet up here. Just the sound of the wind blowing and your breathing.

"Hey, Leon," you start, curiosity getting the better of you once more, "do you think I'm a bad person?"

To say you take him by surprise with the question is an understatement. "I don't think I can answer that."

"I heard you call me a bad person. In front of Claire. And she called me a villain. She's right, isn't she?" You bring up, not wanting to make him feel guilty, but still unintentionally doing so.

"You were there?"

"I was, yeah. Not the point though."

"Well, you had just told me you should've let me die four years ago and shot Claire in the leg." He tells you, braiding your hair as he talks to you. "And right then and there, I was convinced you were a bad person. Worse than me. But judging by what you did last night, the things you said, I... I realized there's a lot of stuff I don't know about you. Stuff you're dealing with that makes you do bad things. And you don't have to tell me anything, that's fine. But I did misjudge you. Besides, I believe that... good and evil are a matter of perspective. Pretty much everyone of the team finds themselves somewhere in the middle, I think."

"How's that?"

"We've been through so much shit, more than any human being could endure without losing at least some part of ourselves. Mostly a sense of morality, I guess. We do things other people would never think of doing, gruesome things — but we do them for a reason." Leon swallows and casts his gaze to the side for a second. He squeezes your hand, his thumb softly rubbing your skin. "And that's where I lost myself. I can see it's happening to you, too. And I'm partially to blame."

"What does that mean?"

"'He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster. And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee.' Friedrich Nietzsche, 1886." He recites, and you look back at him, surprised he would know something like that. "In many things, I'm just as bad if not worse than the people I fight. Look at what I've become. And do not take this the wrong way, Doll, but you're going down the same path."

He's right. He's so damn right and you hate it. "Yeah. That's true."

"But luckily, you've still got your humanity. Even though I was worried you'd lost it when you shot Claire."

"Sometimes I doubt I still have it."

"You do." He assures you, giving you a gentle smile. "You're not heartless. I know it's easier to pretend that you are in a world like this, but you're allowed to feel."

You chuckle, and it turns into a sob, your voice breaking halfway through the sentence. "The minute I allow myself to feel, it just gets worse. It's so goddamn overwhelming."

"You don't think I know what that feels like? Do you know who you're talking to?" He smiles, and you snort at his expression with teary eyes.

"I'm sorry for... for not opening up to you completely. I do trust you. More than anyone."

His low, softspoken voice is something of beauty. "I know, Sweetheart. It's okay."

As you wipe your tears, you chuckle to yourself. "I didn't know you were so well-read. What the hell. He actually quotes a philosopher to me."

That makes him laugh. "I know some classics, alright."

"Whatever you say, Sweetheart." You decide to use that nickname for him this time, and it elicits a genuine, wide smile from him.

To think you missed out on that sight for so long.

You then avert your gaze from him again and lean your head against his left thigh, lashes fluttering when you blink slowly.

A minute later, he chooses to ask you the one thing he's been pondering for God knows how long.

"You know, I... thought about everything that's happened between us. Racoon City, the aftermath of the incident, the past few weeks." He hesitantly begins, his heart beating so loud in his chest that he's afraid you might be able to hear it. "And I've come to the conclusion we've really gotta rectify whatever our relationship is."

Intrigued, you raise your brow, wondering where he's going with this. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Do you think we could ever... have something normal?"

He's afraid he was wrong to ask it for some reason.

While it may not seem like it, Leon wants a soft connection. He wants to be asked how his day went, if he needs anything, how he's feeling. He wants to ask you those things. He wants to hold hands wherever you go, romantic gestures, your hand running through his hair. He wants silent eye contact that leads to smiles. He wants to take random walks with you.

No, he craves it.

He just doesn't know how to tell you.

"I don't think we could."

His heart sinks.

Then you turn around, still sitting between his legs, seeing how vulnerable he is opening up to you the way he has, and you elaborate your words before he gets the wrong idea about them. "Leon, in this line of work, with the things we've seen... nothing about our lives is normal. But we could... you know, work towards a healthier relationship, I think. I want that, and I know it's worth it. But it's gonna take time."

The smallest hint of a smile creeps onto his face. His voice is quiet, sweet even. "Okay. I like that."

There's a playful mischievousness behind those pretty blues of his, and you return it just the same, because fucking hell do you love the stubborn asshole.

"Good. But you gotta work for it, mister."

He pretends to be hurt, raising his brow. "Damn. So giving you the most terrific head of your life wasn't enough?"

You're about to scold him, but you can play this game too. "What makes you think you were the best?"

"Okay, now you've done it." He says, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder, making you laugh.

Once he's put you down on the bed in his room, he kisses you, and you greedily accept it. Then he slows down, lips ghosting over your cheek and jaw, and his eyes just have you melting underneath him. "Promise me something."

"Okay." You reply, not knowing where he's going with it.

"Please don't ever scare me like you did last night." He says quietly, cupping your face, and maybe he's selfish for saying it, but he doesn't care. "I can't lose you."

Swallowing the urge to say something he won't like, you nod. "Promise."

He kisses you again, so gently, holding you like you're his everything. You've truly never felt this loved by someone, especially when he mutters those three sweet words into your ear, and you say it back.

The two of you still have a long way to go, but it's a start.

But the brief moment of happiness you shared gets completely overshadowed when you return to work the following day.

It's a harsh reminder of reality when you realize you still have to go back to those damn torture sessions. That there's still no one who knows what you go through.

Because the very moment Simmons lays his eyes on you, he hands you a file. "Siberia. Today. Meet me out in the yard in twenty minutes."

Your breath hitches in your throat. Truth be told, you are afraid. Who knows what will be waiting for you.

Standing a bit absentmindedly in the hall, you hear someone calling your name behind you. So you turn, seeing your other superior standing there, who walks over to you with worry clouding his features.

"What are you doing here? Why aren't you back home?" Lloyd asks, gently touching your arm.

It's the first time seeing him since the attempt. He gave you at least the rest of the week off and would give you off longer if you needed it — so he doesn't get why you're here.

"I, uh... couldn't stay home any longer. Can't spend days doing nothing or I'll go nuts." You tell him, shrugging your shoulders. "Turns out I'm going to Siberia today."

"Today?" He frowns, clearly uninformed of it. "That wasn't supposed to be today already. I recently managed to delay it—"

"Lloyd." You interrupt him with a quiet voice. "It's alright. I appreciate what you've done for me nonetheless."

"Have you at least been able to catch some sleep?" He questions. He hasn't talked to Leon much but does know you were with him the whole time, which eased his mind a bit.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"Good."

As you walk off to go prepare yourself for the unexpected trip, you hear his voice again, but a different tone this time. "General."

It's the call name agents use for you in the field, so you turn your head on instinct. "Yeah?"

"It's good to have you with us again." He says with a half-smile.

"Thank you, sir."

He then turns on his heel and leaves you on your own in the hallway, so you find yourself chuckling curtly, appreciating his words.

It's the last time you're able to muster a genuine smile for a while.

Siberia is cold. Really fucking cold. Specks of your bright red blood cover the white of the snow. In all honesty, you remember very little of it.

But you do remember the pain. Your skin ripped until you only see cuts and bruises when looking into the mirror. Every damn day they make you fight until you drop on the cold ground, close to death.

And all they do is watch.

So when you return from the trip a week and a half later, you're off even worse than when you left. They keep you in a cell in the basement for a few hours to monitor your vitals and make sure you heal up before anyone sees you.

But Simmons makes the mistake of thinking no one's watching.

As Neal stuffs his mouth with a chocolate bar, he frowns at his laptop, typing away at his keyboard. "Now, am I dreaming or is that Toots?"

Leon raises his brow at the nickname for you before standing up. "What're you on about?"

Sitting in the conference room, the two of them are waiting for Lloyd to get here for a briefing. Leon moves to stand behind him, eyeing the screen, seeing camera footage that includes you being pretty much dragged into a room he doesn't recognize.

"That's her." He states, feeling like there's something strange going on. "Where is that?"

"Not sure. I was just going through some of the cameras of the building and then I saw this—wait, I can check. Hold on."

Neal hands him the chocolate bar, which Leon takes after deadpanning a stare. He checks the location of the camera and crosses his arms.

"It's not registered in the system. That's weird. But according to this, it should be on the lowest level of the north wing. Wait, 'cause that area's—"

"—only available to agents with the highest level clearance. I'm aware. So what the hell is Simmons doing there? 'Cause he doesn't have that."

"And neither does she, right?"

Leon, unfortunately, doesn't have the highest level clearance either, so he'll just have to find some other way into the place. But Neal is good with computers, so that should come in handy.

"I'm gonna go check it out. Keep watching the footage." He shoves the chocolate bar back into Neal's hand and exits the room before he can protest.

Several minutes later, Leon appears on the footage, staring straight into the camera as he gets his phone out. Mere seconds later, his phone begins to vibrate on the table.

"Can you break in?"

"'Course I can. Question is whether I want to—"

"Neal."

"Alright, alright. Give me a minute. Is that a new suit, by the way?"

While the young blonde gets a separate screen ready to hack into the surveillance system, Leon scoffs wryly into the phone. "I refuse to believe you pay that much attention to what I wear."

"Well, excuse you, but I do." He says, then absentmindedly adds the rest with a straight face. "And I heard some of the ladies talk about it in the cafeteria today."

"I'll wear my wedding ring with it next time. They'll love that."

Neal chuckles at his colleague's words, and the light of the perimeter system turns from red to green, making a brief 'click' sound. "This is the part where you tell me I'm amazing, Kennedy."

"You're amazing. Call me if there's trouble."

Neal smirks proudly while Leon enters the previously locked room, taking notice of how awfully dark it is, save for the few lights in the back. His footsteps echo through the room given all the space. It's like stepping into a massive, empty warehouse.

And it's cold. Really fucking cold.

Then he notices the prison-like bars. As if they built one square prison cell in the middle of a giant space.

This whole place gives him an ick.

Leon waits in the dark, eyes narrowing until he hears the shuffle of feet and chains dragging across the concrete floor in the distance somewhere.

"Look what the cat dragged in." Your voice echoes through the room. "My favorite agent."

Once you've stepped forward, he can see you much better, the light casting down on you, making the bags under your eyes look even worse than they already are.

Hair disheveled, voice raspy, chapped lips, bruises and cuts on every inch of exposed skin — you look terrible. Fragile, as both a glass vase about to shatter into a thousand pieces and a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

His eyes widen at your injured form. "Jesus Christ. You look like shit."

"I feel like shit, but what's new."

"Why're you in here?"

Glaring at him, you sigh, tilting your head, somehow mustering the energy to lazily wave with your hand. "You're a smart man. Figure it out."

He can sense your hostility. "You're still hiding stuff from me. Even after everything I've found out, after everything you've told me. Why?"

You refuse to look at him, even when he puts his hands on the bars.

His grip on the metal tightens when you don't say anything. "Why are you in here? Who did this to you?"

Your lashes flutter while your brows knit together. The trembling of your hands has you squeezing your fists until your knuckles turn white.

"They can't keep me here."

Leon senses something is off with the way you speak. Your voice is scarily quiet, followed by a laugh that sounds almost sadistic in a way.

"Who's keeping you here?"

"No one is keeping me here, you idiot. I'm choosing to be here." You tell him absentmindedly, contradicting yourself, using a tone you've never used with him before. You feel a thirst for something, violence, perhaps bloodshed — you're practically about to jump out of your skin.

He doesn't know what you're talking about, or why you're acting like this. "What?"

"I made the choice—" you lean against the bars, putting your hand on your chest when you feel like you can't breathe. "I m-made..."

"Sweetheart." Leon breathes out, muttering the nickname under his breath once he realizes you're most likely going through something resembling a psychosis.

It's then that your rage goes from zero to a hundred within a single breath. "They're not keeping me here. Let me out. C'mon, I can't—they can't keep me in here. LET ME OUT!"

Eye twitching, Leon flinches at your sudden outburst, taking a step back.

A few tears begin to spill from your eyes, yet your rage is still very present. "I'm the fucking strongest. Me. I could tear this whole building down if that's what I wanted. Brick by fucking brick."

He doesn't know what to say. He's speechless — but it's not like you're allowing him to talk anyways. Baring your teeth at him, you clench your fists when your fingers tremble.

"I'm the strongest." You point at yourself repeatedly, anger dying down as soon as it came to you, turning into sorrow, and your voice just utterly breaks. He can hear the pain and instability in your voice. "I'm the... I am. I did what I had to do. I did what I had to do."

Sinking down onto the concrete, you sit back against the bars, burying your face in your hands. Leon kneels by your side, eyes filled worry.

He has no idea what to do for a moment when you cry quietly, murmuring little nothings to yourself. "Oh my God—" you sob, reaching for your throat as tears stream down your cheeks.

He reaches for your hand, and you take it hesitantly. "It's okay. Let it all out."

But you're hyperventilating, struggling to breathe. "No, I can't—"

"Breathe. Take a long, deep breath in, then exhale. Just like that. Keep repeating that."

You put your other hand on your chest, trying to follow his instructions, which works bit by bit. Squeezing his palm, you manage to somewhat steady your breathing, so you wipe some of the tears away.

"I need help, Leon." You tell him, still slightly hiccuping from your breakdown. "I n—need help."

Leon is so beyond hurt. He's never ever seen someone as broken as you look right now. He knows there's more going on, there's something massive you're not telling him.

He promised himself he would do whatever needed to rectify his mistakes. No matter the cost.

"Who's hurting you?" He asks, trying to get as close as possible, the only thing separating you being the metal of the bars. "I can make it go away."

"No. No, they'll just replace him with someone else."

"I won't let that happen."

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you try to steady your heart rate again. "It's no use."

"Give me a name." He's stern and convincing, and it's like something switches inside of you. Your eyes turn void, like you suddenly don't care about anyone or anything in the world, utterly numb.

So you smile at him, and it takes just a moment before sound comes out. "Derek Simmons has been experimenting on me for the past four years. And with 'experiment' I mean torture. Pushing my limits. It's all classified. He'd kill my loved ones if I told anyone."

Leon is rendered speechless for a second.

Then when he finds his voice again, it sounds strained. "How often?"

"Lost count. Pretty much weekly for years straight. You do the math." You shrug while leaning your head back against the metal, and your husband clenches his jaw.

Seeing the way his eyes darken, you can tell he's seething. More than you've ever seen him. He stands up, and seeing the way he's holding himself right now, you're afraid he's going to do what you think he's going to do.

"Where are you going?" You ask him, standing up as well, his back now facing you. "Leon, you can't tell anyone—"

But he doesn't respond. He walks out of the room, barely even blinking, leaving you on your own in the cold and loneliness of the cell.

He walks through the halls of the facility with a look that could kill. Lips pressed together, gritted teeth, clenched jaw, deep breaths.

It's rare for Leon Kennedy to get this angry, even more rare for him to actually show it too.

As he keeps walking forward, he takes his phone out of his pocket without averting his gaze once. "Kennedy—"

"Derek Simmons. Look up his agenda. Where is he right now?"

"Uh—okay, let me check." Neal is surprised by the sudden coldness he's not used to getting from Leon, contrasting their earlier conversation. "Looks like... he's here. Conference room 7B in the east wing. Why?"

"Shut down the cameras for the east wing. Meet me there in ten minutes."

"What are you—"

He hangs up.

As he walks to the conference room, his eyes track every damn move in sight, noticing the blinds are lowered so no one can see what's going on inside, and the conference rooms in the agency are all made relatively soundproof, so no one can eavesdrop.

He enters the room, seeing Simmons is at the head of the table, and he subtly and quietly removes the handle, shoving it into his pocket, so it's not possible to get out from the inside. Not easily, anyway.

"Agent Kennedy. Is there a reason you're coming in here without knocking?"

"The fact that you've been torturing my wife sounds like a good enough reason to me." He responds monotonously, not giving a shit about the other people in the room.

There's six others. Seven with the fucker himself included. They all look at him with a bewildered gaze.

Simmons narrows his eyes, probably out of surprise, considering you've finally told someone about it. "It's not torture, agent, it's all part of the deal she agreed to. Look up the contract."

"You don't think I've read it?" He chuckles wryly, an alarmingly quiet sound. "It sure as shit didn't include you torturing her to the point she would lose her mind."

"She hasn't lost her mind, she's becoming stronger."

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?"

It's almost as if Derek Simmons enjoys playing with fire. His mouth twists for a moment before he speaks. "Have you seen the tapes, Agent Kennedy?"

It's a rhetorical question, obviously. "Excuse me?"

The man turns to one of the men at the table, gesturing with his hand to play one of them. "The one dated with the 24th."

Leon is baffled with the way they talk about it. So casually. As if you're not a human being, just some toy, some... machine.

The video starts, proving to be footage of a security camera, and he can genuinely feel the anger going all the way down to his fingertips. He sees the image of you tied down to a chair, several wires attached to your temple, neck and the skin around your collarbones.

But the sight — the sight is nothing compared to the sound of your pained screams, inability to breathe properly, forcing yourself to endure the pain, simply because you have to.

"She's a real firecracker, that one. Declared a $50 million dollar weapon, as I'm sure you've come to know."

The words make his skin crawl. "How many tapes are there?"

As he tries to swallow his anger, he gets the answer that tears him apart.

"Hundreds."

Leon realizes one thing — everyone in this very room is in on it. Everyone here will do everything they can to make your life even more of a living hell than it already is.

He's seen some of them before. They're scientists. People with no military training whatsoever. Cruel people — unarmed.

The gears are turning in his head, thinking of any other way to protect you, but it all comes down to one solution. As it often does.

As if there was any other option.

Most people fear him, or at least know it's better to stay on his good side. Most people.

But there's always a few odd ones out who think they can take him. Who think they can outdo him, who think they can challenge him and win.

Leon chuckles humorlessly, the sound low and almost dangerous, before he leans forward to the ugly man in front of him.

"The only way any of you are getting out of this room is in a body bag."

Within a split second, he whips out his gun, shooting the two on his left in the head. Simmons tries to disarm him from behind, but he pulls him over his shoulder, and the man is met with the cold floor.

He whacks another guy's head against the table so hard that it cracks open his skull and blood spilling out of it. The remaining three knock him onto his side, but he shoots one of them before he can try anything else. He pushes his knife into the neck of the other one, who lets out a grunt of pain before his body becomes lifeless. The blood of their wounds drip onto his face before he pushes them off.

The third one meets his end rather swiftly with a kick to the temple. He wears expensive dress shoes with a steel toe for a reason, after all.

Using the last bullet he has, he shoots the guy, solely for good measure, which leaves only one more target.

Simmons.

The man tries to run for the door, but Leon makes sure he trips and falls over. He kicks him in the nuts first — just because he's that type of guy — and then chuckles.

"Seven people in the room." He laughs at the ridiculousness of it all. "Did you really think I couldn't take down seven people?"

"You're sick." The man spits back at him.

"Bit hypocritical, don't you think?" Leon asks, referring to him and his stupid experiments, pushing the pistol against Derek's cheek. "Every person involved. Write their names down. Now."

He glares at Leon, trying to intimidate him, but complies in the hope it'll save his life. Leon keeps holding the gun against his cheek while the fucker is doing as he was ordered. "I'm not the only one up to this. They'll just find someone new."

Leon takes out his knife, nodding as if he's actually thinking, a mocking frown on his face. "I don't mind adding another name to the list. It gets longer and longer, and you know what? I genuinely don't care."

But to his surprise, the guy bares his teeth to him. "You're an idiot. It's her you should be going after, not me."

"And why's that?"

"Because eventually, she's going to kill us all."

It's a strange statement, but he doesn't give a shit. "Good riddance."

Pushing the knife into his stomach, he uses the pistol in his hand to blow a hole in Simmons's cheek, and as the man wails in pain on the floor, he takes his belt from his pants and wraps it around his neck.

The sound of Simmons choking, the anger in his body, the way his hands grab onto the belt so fucking hard that it might as well rip in two — he realizes that this is who he's always been, and who he'll always be.

But he can finally find it in him to make peace with it.

So his lips press together as he keeps pulling onto the belt, choking the man who's hurt you so fucking much to a horrible death.

Then he stands up, seeing all the bodies in the room, realizing he's gonna have to clean this shit up fast.

Neal arrives, and as predicted, Lloyd and Yoko are with him. They close the door behind them, eyes widening in shock.

"Jesus fucking Christ."

Leon doesn't say anything in return, barely making eye contact with them at all. Numbness is kicking in now that the adrenaline rush has passed. He takes his favorite knife back from Simmons's body and wipes it clean, sighing.

"What the hell made you think this was a good idea? In the agency's own facility for Christ's sakes?"

"They've been torturing her." Leon says almost quietly, ignoring Lloyd's question, trying to avoid his blood from boiling again. "For the last four years. Like she wasn't human."

"What?"

"They have tapes of it." He says, not paying mind to the splatters of blood on his face. "I didn't know. I should've known."

All three of them can see his torment. They can only imagine what discovering something like that must feel like, and it shows just how much Leon cares for you.

"Alright, fine. Let's clean this up." Yoko huffs, knowing it needs to be done, and fast.

"I gotta go." He then says, moving to leave the room with no explanation.

Lloyd can see right through him, knowing what he's up to, so he goes to stand in front of him to stop him. "No."

"There's more of them."

"I'm sure. But you cannot go on a killing spree right now."

Leon makes eye contact with his only superior, finally, and it's intense, because they're so much alike, yet so different. "Don't try to stop me."

"I'm not trying. I am stopping you. Right here, right now."

He suddenly snaps out of his numb state, getting physical with his best friend. "Do you really not understand what they did to her? She's losing her fucking mind—"

"And what about you!?" Lloyd yells back at him, pushing him back. "The last thing she needs is you losing it too."

He breathes heavily, trying to manage his emotions, but he's never found it this difficult. "I can't let those people live. You know that, Smith."

"I do. But you gotta snap out of it. I need you to calm down, now. You belong to the very top of this agency—" Leon pushes back against him, angry that his best friend would bring something like that up knowing it doesn't mean anything to him, but Lloyd maintains a firm grip, continuing. "—and I know you don't give a shit about your career, or justice, or whatever this agency stands for, but — you do this now, you will get caught, and your life is over. You'll never see her again."

Leon rips his arm free from his grasp and runs his hand through his hair. The worst part is that the guy is right. The agency would be able to trace it back to him, it would be too suspicious, and not even Lloyd has the authority to ensure he doesn't get a court martial.

"Fine. Fine."

It's rare to see him so vulnerable. God, this must be an all-time low for him. He's so tired, so angry, like someone is constantly etching marks into his back with the sharpest knife.

He flinches, feeling Yoko's hand on his shoulder. "Go home. Get some rest. We'll take care of this."

Normally she'd reprimand him, tell him he needs to get his shit together, but it's clear as day that he's incapable of doing that right now.

"She's held in a cell. Underneath the north wing, it's like a secret bunker. I gotta go get her out. Tell her what happened."

She nods at him, watching him as he leaves the room, leaving the three of them to deal with his mess.

"She's not fine. Neither is he. What in hell is going on?" Neal asks out of concern for both you and Leon.

Lloyd sighs. "Trauma. Pain. Guilt. Love. Everything you could possibly imagine. All we can do is help them out until they overcome whatever they're struggling with. God, what a mess."

Their team is more than a group of a few colleagues. They look out for each other, whatever happens — so they clean up the mess do whatever's needed for the both of you to get better.

That same night, you stay over at his apartment again.

Everything that happened after Leon discovered the truth was like a blur. He came back to you, told you what he'd done — and you cried, because you were grateful.

Leon killed Simmons and the majority of his men for you. That meant your problems were over, depending on who would take the man's place, but he's not planning on letting you get hurt again.

After taking a much needed shower, he finds himself on top of you, embracing you the way he should've a long time ago.

He holds you, kisses you, making you feel the amount of love he has for you. It's nothing sexual and after all the shit that has happened, neither of you are up for something like that.

It's so gentle, so caring. You feel like you could stay like this forever. His skin is so soft when your hands run past his shoulder blades.

Then suddenly his phone rings.

Both of you ignore it at first, but when it rings again, you roll your eyes. "Just—just pick up."

Leon presses his lips together and reaches for the device on his nightstand, sitting up next to you.

"What do you need, Heyward?" He asks as you fiddle with his free hand, intertwining your fingers with his, a sweet gesture.

"Listen, I have some really bad news that you're not gonna like. You with her right now?"

The sudden seriousness in Neal's voice sparks a certain feeling in his gut.

"Yeah, why?" He asks, putting it on speaker so you can hear it too.

"It's Simmons." The boy sucks in a breath. "He's alive."

"That's not possible. I choked the guy to death."

"Turn on your computer." He orders, so Leon gets up from his bed and walks to his desk with computer in the other room, checking the intel he now sees he received.

The file contains a few surveillance shots from a place he doesn't recognize, and he's genuinely shocked, because it is him. With a hole in his cheek and all, the one Leon gave him after shooting a bullet through it earlier today.

As you stand beside him, shifting your gaze from the screen to your husband, both of you come to terms with the fact that the fight against your biggest enemy is far from over... and God knows what else it'll cost you.

Notes:

it's the beginning of the end sheeesh

how the hell does this chapter feel long and short at the same time. anyways i can confirm i wrote the majority of the epilogue and i'm excited to get to that point (they've suffered enough and they are going to suffer again !) but i'm sad that the end is slowly nearing. hope this chapter lived up to your expectations :)

Chapter 32: Act II - 10. Insatiability is a Disease

Summary:

The team tries to figure out how to deal with Reader's arch nemesis still being alive and kickin'.

Notes:

content warnings: explicit sexual content, bondage using handcuffs, leon being a slut (more than usual), oral (f+m receiving), like this stuff is dirty i blushed a little writing this, chapter isn't proofread so may include typos, teeny tiny torture scene !

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"I'm completely, inevitably fucked. You realize that, right?"

"Doll—"

"He will kill the people that I love. That includes you too, asshole—"

"I'm not afraid of a guy like Simmons."

"Leon, as long as you have something or someone to lose, you should never underestimate an enemy. And he doesn't work alone."

He's been trying to get you to calm down for God knows how long at this point. Obviously this is something neither of you anticipated. Discovering the fucker he thought was dead is alive wasn't exactly on his to-do list.

Of course he understands your concern. You were so happy being rid of the guy, feeling carefree and content until the unbelievable reality came by and shattered it all again.

And given your attempt of last week, he's afraid you might respond to this situation in a similar way. Your mental health is still at a dangerous low, and you'll need peace to be able to heal. But you won't be able to have that until Simmons is dead and gone. For good this time.

He notices the crossing of your arms over your chest, tapping your finger on your arm, a sign of your anxiety.

So he gently squeezes your upper arms. "Remember what I said about the breathing? Keep it steady. Focus on your own heartbeat."

Clenching your jaw, your brows scrunch together, and you bury your face in your hands before moving one through your hair. "If anyone I love dies, I'll never be able to forgive myself."

"I won't let that happen."

You huff at him, dropping your head against his chest. "I'm so sick of this shit."

His fingers twirl some strands of your hair. "I know, me too. I'm sorry. It's my fault he's still alive and kicking — I should've just shot the bastard in the head."

Those words have you looking up at him. "For all we know, he could've survived that too. Don't beat yourself up about it."

He closes his eyes for a moment, his forehead resting against yours. "I'll fix this. Somehow."

You let out a hum in agreement with his statement. It's the middle of the night, and after everything that's happened, you're both tired. "We should probably try to catch some sleep."

"Yeah." He sighs, eyes half-lidded when he gazes at you. Once he notices your concern for him, he gives a slightly forced but sweet smile to reassure you that he's fine.

Once you both lie down underneath the soft sheets, he throws his shirt off and moves to wrap his arms around you.

It's rare to watch him fall asleep. You're usually out first. He clearly feels guilty for not pulling off what should've been a simple assassination, but you truly don't blame him.

Hopefully, with time, he'll stop blaming himself, too.

The next day, the two of you arrive at the agency together. If anything, you've practically been living with him since last week, and so far it's been nice. He hasn't really said it out loud, but he's really hoping you'll stay at his place longer.

And both of you started wearing your wedding rings again. It all happened silently but you both acknowledge it by occasionally touching it, playing with it whenever you're holding hands. It feels like your relationship has finally made a significant turn for the better.

So it feels familiar to have his palm on your lower back when he lets you enter the conference room first.

"Great, you're finally here. Sit." Lloyd gestures for you both to take a seat at the oval shaped table, using a small remote to play a looped video on the big screen attached to the wall.

It's the full surveillance tape Neal sent you last night. What Simmons is doing exactly is hard to tell, considering he faces the camera with his back for most of the video, save for the moments he enters and exits the view.

"This was yesterday, four hours after we left him. We got this tape from a surveillance camera installed by our substation in Seattle."

The video has you narrowing your eyes to see it more clearly. "Did you run facial recognition on the guy he's talking to?"

Lloyd nods and clicks on the remote to show the photo of the person in question, along with the small bit of information the database has on him. Name, age, date of birth. Nothing too exciting.

Your jaw drops. "Holy shit. I know him."

All eyes then focus on you. "Really?"

"Yeah. He's well-known within Umbrella under a nickname — the Contractor. I've talked to him once or twice. He provided me with whatever I needed for a mission. Fake passports, invites to exclusive places, anything popular on the black market — you name it."

It's the first time you openly talk about working for the highly problematic company. It's not like they aren't aware of it already. Lloyd probably told Yoko and Neal about it, considering they don't look surprised at all.

"So he's an Umbrella employee?"

"No, he's self-employed. His relationship with Umbrella is a solid one, so he just happens to do good business with them."

"How do we contact him, then?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

You roll your eyes. "It's classified. I'm one of their best assets, but that's it. They don't tell me much."

And then they all look at you with the same piercing gaze, one that makes you feel a bit more intimidated than you should be.

Leon taps his fingers on the table when he leans back in the seat. "You still haven't told us why you've been working with Umbrella."

"Does it matter?"

"It obviously does."

So you bite your lip, inhaling deeply before giving them an explanation. "A while ago, I contacted someone with friends in high places. She got me hooked up with Umbrella. I only saw one way out of the treatment I was given, and that was to, well... go back to normal. Turn my body back to normal."

"But your DNA would have to be rewritten. That's not possible. And way too dangerous to even try." Yoko claims, her brows furrowed as she tries to imagine it.

You shrug. "It's happened once already. If I could be turned into this, why wouldn't I be able to get weaker again?"

It's silent for a moment. Then Neal speaks up.

"So you cut a deal with them?"

"Yeah. I would kill for them, they would make me a virus that's supposed to rewrite my DNA and take away my strength, or at least make me considerably weaker."

Leon realizes you quite literally took the empty spot he left. He doesn't know how to feel about the whole thing, even if he does understand why you did it.

Perhaps he mostly just feels guilt.

"Listen," you put your hands up just above the table. "I haven't exactly turned in my resignation yet, so... he shouldn't be hostile towards me. I happen to know he's the co-owner of a pawnshop in Seattle. Maybe I can go there, see if he's in."

And the rest of the team seems more optimistic now that you've mentioned it. "Alright. Go with Yoko, she's familiar with agents from the substation, which could be helpful."

"Do we get to spend time on this? Officially?" Neal asks, only to be disappointed by Lloyd's answer.

"No. Simmons may be reported as missing, but this is all still off the books. His disappearance can't be traced back to any of us." He replies, and when he leans just a bit forward with his hands on the table, all of you know this is serious, and it needs to be dealt with quickly. "The best outcome would be to bring him in alive. But if we can't secure him — you all have the green light to kill."

"So is no one gonna mention how the guy was literally dead and somehow resurrected himself?" Neal interjects, pointing at him on the screen. "We've dealt with some weird shit, like her being our somewhat evil real-life version of Captain America, but this sure as hell takes the cake."

You grimace and cock a brow at the way he addresses you, but he's not wrong.

"I was thinking he may have injected himself with something similar to the G-virus beforehand, but he had no way of knowing Leon was gonna kill him." You suggest, shrugging your shoulders.

"How would he even get his hands on something like that?"

"Well, he has many acquaintances in high places, in every branch. Unfortunately for us, he's smarter than he looks."

No one really has a response to that. Dealing with someone who's been on the inside of the agency is always a tougher task, and this one certainly wasn't exactly easy to begin with.

Lloyd's eyes rake over each one of you, offering a final sentiment. "Capture or kill. Keep it a secret from everyone outside this room."

Everyone at the table nods in understanding. You and Yoko get up to leave for what should be approximately an hour drive. Passing Leon on your way out, you give him a little squeeze on his shoulder, and he makes sure to touch his hand with yours before you have the chance to walk off.

It's a silent way of him telling you to be careful. You're both still professionals, and this is your workplace, so bigger public displays of affection are out of the question.

The loving gesture and his little smile don't go by unnoticed, though.

The remaining men in the room both stare at him with smug looks, so he narrows his eyes, pouting his lips, as if he doesn't know anything. "What?"

"You and Toots all sweet on each other again?"

Leon tilts his head, popping a piece of gum into his mouth, hoping his nonchalant façade will hide the heat rushing to his cheeks. "We're still taking it slow."

"Whatever you say." Neal says, wiggling his brows. "That's why she had that little mark on her neck, huh?"

A chuckle leaves his mouth as he moves his arm to rest on top of the chair. He pushes his tongue against the back of his teeth, trying not to think about the way you sounded underneath him last night. "Well, if we're talking about the sex, we haven't been taking it slow. That what you wanna hear?"

He's normally not one to disclose anything about his sex life, but he's got a feeling the kid won't drop it until he does.

Besides, it's the truth.

Neal scoffs, baffled from the reply, and Lloyd smacks him on his chest right after. "Why don't you stop sticking your nose into his business and get to work, Heyward?"

"Oh, c'mon — I like a bit of entertainment every now and then. You and the lieutenant are getting boring at this point."

"She and I—" Lloyd is now the one who's blushing, afraid that they'll somehow know he had said lieutenant sitting on top of him last night. He still has the red marks of her nails to prove it. "Just quit it. Get to work."

Leon thinks the sight of his friend all flustered is hilarious, but he won't torture him about it.

Well, maybe a little.

He gets up from his seat, adjusting his suit vest and matching jacket before putting his hand on his shoulder. "Subtlety has never been your strong suit, huh?"

Lloyd moves away from him, still with his file in hand as he gestures to the door. "Enough. Both of you. Out."

Neither of the men can restrain a satisfactory grin from appearing, because if anyone is fun to mess with, it's their very strong, largely respected and easily flustered leader with his very obvious crush.

Yoko's sharp red nails tap quietly onto the top of the steering wheel as she drives at high speed. The radio softly plays in the background when it begins to rain outside, much to your annoyance.

"God, this fucking weather." You mumble under your breath, not really intending for it to be audible, but she hears it regardless.

"It's therapeutic."

"Yeah. When you're inside."

"Fair enough."

You lean back in your seat, mind drifting off as your eyes follow whatever you spot next to the highway.

"Hey, how have you been holding up? With everything that's happened recently? If you don't mind me asking. I can understand if you'd rather not talk about it." She adds, breaking the silence and choosing her words carefully.

At first, you're not sure what to say. You're still not, to be honest. "I... I've certainly had better days. I don't know. All I do right now is pray that everything will just magically disappear. I feel hopeless."

"We're gonna do everything we can to find the fucker. He can't hide forever."

"Here's hoping."

She moves her one hand from the wheel to squeeze yours, and while the action catches you by surprise, it's not unwelcome. "And what about that ring on your finger? That's new."

Both of you know exactly what it is, and you blush, which has her chuckling at your reaction. "I guess you can say things have been good."

"He looked so proud to wear that ring. It's adorable. I love love."

"Oh my God." You mumble again, your cheeks hurting from embarrassment since you didn't want to make such a big deal out of it to your colleagues. "Enough about me. What about you and that guy you were falling in love with?"

Yoko bites her lip. "Well, as you can see, no ring on my finger yet."

"Yet?"

"Mhm." She hums suggestively. "We've known each other for years but only started dating a little while ago, so... I don't know. I kinda feel like getting married though."

"Is he good in bed?"

She pushes her tongue against the inside of her cheek, smirking faintly. "He definitely knows how to please me."

Both of you giggle at the way she says it. "Wow."

"Hey, if you feel stressed, just ask Kennedy to get in your pants. Perfect solution. Works like a charm."

You snort. "Gee, thanks. Noted."

Pressing her red lips together, she winks at you, and you blush for some reason, shaking your head as if you're scolding her.

More than an hour later due to being stuck in traffic, you arrive in Seattle. It's still raining just as much as before, dark clouds circling in the grey sky.

You can see the pawnshop across the street. What catches your eye, however, is the man smoking across the street, at the one corner where he can stand under the roof to avoid getting wet from the rain.

Your colleague spots him too, so you gesture for her to cross the street with you.

The man notices you coming up to him then, and he smiles out of politeness. "Thirteen! It's been a while."

Thirteen being the codename you were given at Umbrella. Something about you being number 13 on the list and them associating you with death and all that. Fun stuff.

"Hi, David."

"Who's your friend?"

Yoko holds more of a distance towards the man, letting you do the talking for now, though maintaining strong eye contact with the man.

Instead of directly answering his question, you give him another. "We're here for one of your clients."

That's when he narrows his eyes. "I don't disclose any information regarding my clients. You should know that by now."

Very briefly smiling at him, you fold your arms behind your back and lean forward. "Well, if you want your business to stay a secret, I recommend making an exception this time."

He doesn't reach for his weapon, knowing it would be useless against you in particular, but the smile on his face fades immediately. "You're playing with fire."

"I like my life that way."

David puts the cigarette back between his teeth to take a drag. "Fine. Who's the client?"

"Derek Simmons. You met with him yesterday."

"The man with the hole in his cheek." He mentions, chuckling. "Did you do that to him, too?"

"That was my husband, I'm afraid."

"Aggressive bunch, aren't ya?"

"I like to call it 'occasionally violent'." You shrug, getting back to the topic. "What did he want from you?"

"Some fake passports. Containers for a ship at the docks."

That certainly sparks your interest, and Yoko speaks up for the first time and engages with the conversation. "Cargo containers?"

The man across from you nods. "Didn't wanna say what for. Sounded like he was movin' something big. That's all I got for you, ladies. I'll text you the names on the passports so you can put them in the system."

Your colleague turns to look at you, and you mimic her actions. "Which port?"

"No idea. He mentioned he was going to move 'em anyways. You're too late."

Clenching your jaw, you press your lips together. "We can work with that. Thanks, David."

Your hand momentarily pats his arm and his hand subtly moves into your pocket before you move away from him again.

Strange. You act like nothing has happened, though.

As you walk off, you hear him calling out to you, so you turn your head to him — and he exhales the smoke from his cigarette. "Be careful, Thirteen. Or you'll get caught up in the fire."

Without responding, you head back to the car, pondering over the words with your hands moving restlessly in the pockets of your coat.

Then you grab your phone, checking over your shoulder to see whether anyone is following you, dialing a number when you see the coast is clear.

"Hi, Doll. What do you have for me?"

"Simmons arranged several cargo containers. Whatever he's moving, it's gotta be big. Or something of a massive quantity and weight."

"Where?"

"We don't know. I was hoping Neal could run a check on the bigger ports, even if that is a big amount."

"I'll ask him."

"Thanks." You mention, biting your lip before adding more. "By the way, I won't be home for dinner tonight. Got some things at Umbrella to take care of first."

Leon pauses at the other end of the line before replying to you. "Okay. Be careful."

"Always. I'll see you later."

You hang up on him and get into the car now that you've returned to the parking garage.

"Everything alright?" Yoko asks, looking at you from the passenger's seat this time.

"Yeah, yeah. All good."

"Hey, what did that David guy mean when he told you not to get caught up in the fire?"

Switching the car on, you shrug your shoulders. "He always says stuff like that. The guy just likes being vague for no reason."

She doesn't entirely buy it, but lets it go for now. Pressing on it doesn't really feel like the best approach right now.

So she only hums, helping you navigate through the crowded streets as you drive back to the agency again.

And the whole thing just turned out to be a dead end, because two weeks later, you haven't gotten an inch closer to finding Simmons or his goal. There's been no sign of illegally shipped containers, the passports given to him still haven't been used, and he seems to have disappeared from the face of the earth completely.

So you sit in the living room of Leon's apartment in a silk tank top and shorts, a cup of coffee in hand while finishing the last bit of paperwork. Leave it to you to do all the work last minute.

Leon sits on the soft couch with his laptop between his legs, awfully focused as he stares at his screen. He's been spending most of his spare time trying to figure out where Simmons could be hiding.

You suppose he feels guilty about not accomplishing what he promised. He said he would make it all go away — which backfired tremendously, considering the problem only got bigger.

Then again, it's also revenge. He can't let the guy roam the earth knowing what he did to you.

He suddenly sees your head popping up above the screen. "What'cha working on?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

You huff, rolling your eyes. "No."

As you turn his laptop screen to you, he runs his hand through his hair. "I just feel like I'm missing something."

"Leon... maybe you should just let it go."

"I can't."

"You have to. We have other things to deal with, and don't get me wrong, I appreciate what you're doing for me here, but—"

Part of him is flabbergasted that you're saying this, because if anything, you wanted to kill the guy as much as he does. He's noticed that your interest in the disappearance has become significantly smaller over the past two weeks — it's making him question whether he should do the same, or at least try to.

But he's got to be realistic here. He finally has you, for Christ's sake — which is pretty much the one thing he's wanted for as long as he can remember.

So he sighs and closes the laptop. "I'm sorry. You're probably right."

"What can I say? I always am." You chuckle to yourself, turning back around on the carpet to sort the paperwork, goosebumps appearing on your skin when he kisses your shoulder.

"Well, I wouldn't say that, but..."

"No, keep going. See where that attitude gets you, mister."

"Usually on top of you."

You scoff at him, ignoring the way your thighs act on their own, rubbing together at his tone.

The annoying thing about Leon Kennedy is how he seems to know everything about you before you do. Call it obsession, call it love — no matter what, Leon Kennedy knows it all. Too much, you would argue.

He knows what car you drive, how you like your drinks, your typical mannerisms and habits, all of it, for better or worse. He knows what makes you tick.

And he especially knows how to act, walk and talk to you to have you yearning for him, heart beating like crazy and addicted to him. It should honestly be studied.

Tonight, of course, is no different. There's a stash of cards on the coffee table in front of you — underneath all your paperwork, anyways. It sparks an idea in him.

"Princess."

"Hm?"

"Play a game with me."

You raise your brow. "What game?"

"A card game. Poker. Crazy Eights. Whatever you want."

"Why do I feel like there's more to it than just playing a game?"

"I have a great idea for a prize." He says cheekily, leaning a bit closer to you. "I win — I get to tie you up tonight. Handcuffs. You let me touch you however I want."

"As if you don't usually."

"C'mon, Doll. That's different." He drags. His excitement is hardly concealed with that look in his eyes.

Goddamn does it sound tempting. This is probably the first time you wouldn't mind losing at a game.

Pretending to be considering it, you look up, raising your shoulders. "So what do I get if I win?"

Leon shrugs. "Whatever you want."

"Okay. If I win, I get to tie you up."

Surprise is obvious in his features, but that cocky grin doesn't leave his face, so you just assume he's at least somewhat intrigued by the idea.

"Deal."

He's a fierce competitor, even in something as simple as a card game, eager to win. It's adorable to see how much he wants that prize.

Long story short — you won.

Leon doesn't know how to feel when he sees your broad smile, a playful giddiness overtaking you. The man looks downright terrified. "Please stop looking at me like that."

"Sorry. This is exciting." You chuckle gleefully, standing up from the carpet. "Where do you keep 'em? The cuffs?"

"In my sex dungeon downstairs." He deadpans with the straightest face he can muster.

So in turn, you glare at him. "Kennedy."

"Are you sure you don't want me to tie you up?"

"Another time, definitely. Tonight? Nope. I won."

He pouts at you. "They may or may not be in my nightstand drawer."

The minutes after that go by like a blur. All he knows is that you're pushing him back onto his bed, his chest bare as he's only left in his sweatpants.

He slightly stretches out his hands for you to take. You begin to tie his wrists together using the handcuffs when he suddenly feels nervous for some reason. "Hey, uh, Princess?"

"Yeah?"

"I've never... never let anyone do this to me before." He tells you, eyes shifting from the cold material of the cuffs to you.

And you find yourself a bit surprised, because he seems to have a lot of experience with different stuff in bed. So that means this is his first time really giving up the control he's always had, now giving it to someone else.

Therefore you give him a genuine smile of assurance. "We can stop at any moment if you don't like it, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"And, well... I don't really have much experience with this either."

"There's not much that could go wrong anyways." He shrugs, getting used to the feeling of his hands cuffed. "As long as I get to eat your pussy, I'm pretty much fine with anything."

The way he phrases it makes you snort and blush at the same time. "Why do you always have to be so crass about it?"

"Oh, please. Admit that you like it."

"Fine. I like that you're horny all the time." You tell him.

"Hm. I expected a dirtier answer than that."

"Okay. Geez. How about this — I like your giant caveman club of a dick—"

"Not exactly how I would word it, but I feel honored, Princess."

You laugh at him, pushing him back onto the soft bed. "I guess I gotta shut you up somehow."

Seeing the mischievous grin on your face, he bites his lip — he feels like he's awfully into this.

That feeling only increases when you leave kisses all over his chest. He audibly hisses through his teeth when your lips get dangerously close to the waistband of the pair of sweatpants that hangs low on his hips, lower than it should.

So you tease him by sucking onto his skin after pushing the waistband down until it just barely covers his dick, and you can quite literally see him twitching through the fabric.

His face heats up pretty much instantly. Jesus, is this how you always feel underneath him? He might even be sweating already.

He gulps when you suddenly catch him off guard by palming his cock despite still being clothed.

"Never knew you were so sensitive." You giggle to yourself, moving to sit on his chest. "Can I..."

Noticing you're still embarrassed to say it, even though you know he likes it just as much — if not more — he smirks a little. "What? Use your words."

You try to glare at him, but you just can't manage it, so you give in. "Can I sit on your face?"

"Atta girl." He says to you, and the way he does is fucking intoxicating. "Do whatever you want with me, baby."

Adrenaline pumps through your veins, and you swallow. "Okay."

Moving up a bit, you allow him to adjust his head on the pillow before sitting down on his face.

The first whimper escapes you when you feel his warm tongue touching your sensitive skin. You never fail to notice how greedy he always is, always immediately diving in, and it's something you'll never get used to.

He licks a long stripe from your clit down to your hole at a torturously slow pace then back up again. The sensation has you exhaling in bliss, your lips pressed together.

Then he suddenly grazes past your clit with his teeth, just softly enough for it not to hurt, and laughs almost sinfully when your knees jerk up at the sensation.

"God, Leon—fuck—" you nearly whine for him already, and his heart jumps at how sweet his name sounds off your tongue.

His tongue moves faster, fueled by both desire and sheer annoyance of having his hands tied, unable to touch your pretty pussy. The soft pads of his fingers graze your back, your warm skin — which he's aching to touch.

The feeling only gets worse when you slowly start using his face for your own pleasure, moving your hips just a bit.

Your plush thighs lock around his head, which, Jesus Christ, has all the blood rushing to his dick. He wonders if you're even aware of what you do to him, sitting all pretty on his tongue.

So when you lift yourself up just a bit to give him air, he licks his lips, his chest heaving up and down. "Go harder."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Now sit down."

You do as you're told, more than happy to oblige . His tongue grazes your clit, curls around it and sucks, and you cry out, squirming on top of him, one hand gripping the headboard as you curl your fingers into his hair and tug, stuttering his name out in a pleading chant. "Leon, Leon—Jesus, fuck—"

He's going insane underneath you. His bound hands move up to touch the skin of your thighs, ass, and back, then they return downwards to touch his crotch. His dick is aching like hell, he's so goddamn turned on that he's leaking in his boxers at this point.

Maybe he shouldn't love the way you're using him as much as he does.

His hips buck up, lifting off the bed every time he struggles to breathe. He audibly gasps for air every single time you lift yourself up from his mouth.

Your hands grip onto his hair, pushing his face closer to your dripping cunt.

"Fuck." He can't stop himself from groaning into you, voice raspy and muffled. He wishes he could use his fingers, slide them into you, knowing you'd be so warm, wet, tight—

You briefly give him air, and he's begging. "Cum on my face, baby. Wanna taste it, please, cum all over my face. Pour it down my goddamn throat, please—"

The words are so lewd that they have your eyes rolling back.

Once your legs start to tremble more and more and your moaning gets louder, he sucks harder, burying his nose against your clit, hands locked on one of your tits when you finally lean back to give him access.

You know you're close when you feel needier and needier to reach that peak, pressing down on his face harder to feel his tongue deeper inside you, cunt aching from emptiness.

But he knows exactly how to get you to that point. He has you moaning and whining on top of him, begging for him to make you cum, and he does.

When you look down at him, the rise of his cheekbones, his nose and his mouth are soaked with your wetness — and his eyes are blown wide, the blue of them almost lost in the darkness of his greed.

You get off him and notice his face is all red, your juices on his lips and cheeks as he breathes heavily.

With his wrists still bound, he moves his fingers across his face, then putting them in his mouth. Your lashes flutter from that post-orgasmic bliss as you watch him do it, and he has the audacity to be cheeky to you.

"Fuck. Maybe we should do it like this more often."

God, you don't even have to ask him if he liked it.

You lean forward, kissing him, allowing him to sink his teeth into your neck and suck on the warm skin, marking you up just like you did to him.

"Need to be inside you, baby, please." He whispers, still regaining his breath.

But you have something else to do first.

"Not yet." You tell him before moving back on the bed, positioning yourself between his legs, dragging his sweatpants and boxers down for his dick to spring free.

He whimpers from the lack of physical contact, rolling his hips just a bit. He needs some kind of friction, needs to be touched — but he won't dare doing it himself. Even if it is damn tempting.

And he's so sensitive when you squeeze his cock. He hisses, fingers twitching as they dig into the fat of your thighs, your hips, any part of you can hold onto. The pressure is too much, too much—

"Baby, just let me fuck you, please, oh shit—" he squeezes his eyes shut, bucking his hips upward when he suddenly feels your mouth on him.

Which is enough for him to make that sound that you know so well by now, that low hum in the back of his throat — and it's the best thing you've ever heard in your entire life.

His words are incoherent when he moans, chanting yes, yes, yes when your tongue swirls around him.

The powerlessness in him can't handle it. He needs to be inside you. Now.

His hands suddenly push your head down until you're gagging on him, the tip of his cock touching the back of your throat. His eyes roll back as he finally reaches that peak, not giving a shit that he didn't last half as long as he usually would.

He releases your head and you pull back, coughing from his actions. "Couldn't help yourself, huh?"

"Princess, with all due respect, I will get myself out of these cuffs unless you start riding me right the hell now."

The words sound like a bit of a challenge to you, so your head perks up, hands moving to grab his belt from the top of his nightstand, using it to tie his cuffs to the headboard. "I was gonna let you touch me, but... I guess not anymore."

"Wait—"

You shut him up by sinking down on him all the way, the stretch burning a little, but you don't care. There's nothing better than seeing his surprise fade into pleasure, eyes clamping shut.

The obscene noise of your wetness coating his dick as you slide up and down drives him insane. He moans out your name, biceps flexing when he helplessly pulls on his restraints.

"Want me to fuck you, Leon? Want me to go faster?"

"Go faster, baby, please." He breathes out, trying to ignore how pathetic he sounds.

His moans sound almost pained when he drags them out, his voice all raspy, his cock twitching when you moan.

"Atta girl, atta girl—" he chants, obsessed with the way your skin slaps against his, obsessed with the way you moan his name, obsessed with every fucking thing you do. "Fuck it out of me. Fuck me, fuck me just like that—"

It makes you ride him with everything that you have. He meets you halfway by fucking up into you, his hips going up even if it strains his waist, drops of sweat running down his toned chest.

"How bad do you want me?" You ask him, not slowing down, your nails leaving red scratches on his abs. "How far would you go for me?"

He locks his eyes with yours. "I would do anything, baby, God—would burn the fucking world for you if you asked me to."

"Yeah?" You nod, your hand moving down to touch yourself, eyelids twitching from the overstimulation, yet you can't pull your fingers away. "I want you to cum in me, Leon. Can you do that?"

You're almost caught off guard when he immediately pushes himself deeper inside you. "I'm gonna stuff you full. Don't waste a single drop."

He's the sexiest man you've ever had in your bed. Jesus.

"Leon," you pant, so close to your orgasm, and he knows. He is too.

"Yes, baby," he moans, chuckling devilishly. "I wanna feel you cum around me. Give it to me, Doll, make me proud. C'mon."

The praise in his voice is enough for you to clamp down on him, his fingers twitching from the sudden sensation that hits him like a damn train.

He almost feels like blacking out once he empties himself inside you, breath hitching in his throat, and you slump in your place, head hanging low. "Give me a sec."

And he has the audacity to fucking laugh at you, both before and after you've removed the cuffs from his arms, despite being as breathless as he is, enjoying how fucked out you look on top of him.

A comfortable silence filled up with only your and his heavy breathing arises, until he breaks it again.

"Doll."

"What?"

"We should make a sex tape."

"... seriously?"

"Sweetheart, that was the hottest fucking thing I've ever experienced. So yes, I'm being dead serious."

A brief silence.

"When would you even watch it?"

"I sense that you're interested."

"You're not sensing shit."

"Well, the way you just clamped on my dick tells me something different."

He shifts his body, and you whimper out of sensitivity, feeling a little too weak to get off him. "Had nothing to do with that."

"Sure. Then what was it? You want a round two?"

"You're insatiable."

"Yeah," he agrees while taking the cuffs from the nightstand again, this time putting them on your wrists, "I am."

Waiting for your approval, he clearly gets the sign when your smile only grows, and he flips you over, ready to keep you busy for as long as you can handle it — and maybe after that, too.

The aching in your legs still lingers the following day, at the most inconvenient of times.

Fingers bloody, knuckles bruised, adrenaline pumping. You're watched by two men in dark clothing as you forcefully try to refrain from breaking the jaw of the guy in the chair.

You've already given him a black eye, his cheek swollen and red from the impact of your iron fist as your tongue darts out to wet your lips.

"I want a name."

"I'm not giving you shit."

"Fucking hell. Why do you people always do this?" You ask rhetorically, gesturing to the guys at the door. "Bring her in."

One of them goes out the door, then returns with the package about two minutes later.

The man on the chair is shocked. The shock quickly turns to anger. "What the fuck is she doing here? Leave her out of this!"

It's the exact reaction you were hoping to get. The package, better known as his girlfriend, sits on the chair with disheveled hair and dark tears from the smudged mascara streaming down her cheeks to her chin.

"All you gotta do is answer my questions. Shouldn't be too hard."

"I'll kill you, you bitch."

Pouting, you act like his words affect you in the slightest before turning your head to the fucker's girlfriend sitting tied to the chair in front of you. Your expression softens for a moment.

"You look lovely. Does he treat you right?"

The woman is in too much of a shock to answer your question.

So you keep that gentle smile on your face when taking your gun out to point it at the spot right between her eyes. She starts shaking and crying in her seat, even more than she already was.

"Hurt her and I'll burn you alive!" The man being interrogated barks at you, as if he's in a position to threaten you.

It makes you laugh. "I'm sure. Tell me who else knows about the murder on the Attorney-General."

"Fuck you, I'm not telling you shit!"

Inhaling with a blank face, the man can see that your patience is starting to run out — and when that happens, people start dying.

In this case, anyway.

You push the woman's chair back onto the floor and put your boot onto her neck. It reminds you of the way Leon did the same thing to Claire back in Raccoon City, but you quickly shake off the thought.

You press your foot down onto her throat harder and harder, your subconscious drowning out the noises of her choking underneath you.

"Stop! Please stop, you're hurting her—"

The man begs and begs, but it's not enough. You want a confession and he knows that.

So you keep going.

You know she'll pass out soon. You keep your gaze on that of her boyfriend, eyes spitting fire as your mouth becomes a thin line and your knuckles white.

The laugh that escapes your throat is cruel. Your shoulders rise with it as you keep staring into his eyes, showing you're genuinely enjoying this. It feels like you're pushing him — your eyes say enough.

Say nothing. I dare you.

More, more, more. Just a little more to sedate the monster clawing its way through your ribcage.

Unfortunately, everything comes to an end.

"Stop, stop—two of my colleagues! They did a job with me in Malaysia. Their contacts are in my phone, I'll show them to you."

The woman coughs audibly when you finally allow her to breathe again.

The man in the chair gives you all the information you need to know. You shove the phone into your pocket before proceeding to attach a silencer to your pistol with your back facing the two.

"Who are you? Who sent you?" His breathing is unsteady, anger clear in his voice again. "Answer me!"

So you turn in your place, pointing the gun at his forehead, ready to fire a bullet.

"Derek Simmons sends his regards."

Notes:

sheeesh it's been a while ! so sorry to have kept you all waiting, life has been very hectic, very stressful, very busy. i hope y'all had a nice christmas and happy new year's!

i'm kind of struggling a little to get from this point to the final parts and the epilogue but we'll get there. somehow. in a few chapters time. certainly not yet either way, thanks for sticking with me and i hope this chapter was able to slightly make up for the wait ! 3

Chapter 33: Act II - 11. Hypervigilance

Summary:

The reasons behind your actions are finally revealed, turning Leon against you.

Notes:

content warnings: reader's life motto is gaslight gatekeep girlboss, drug use (again), author supports women's rights but also women's wrongs, massive angst

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

You awake early in the morning, eyes fluttering once you realize it's way before you set your alarm. Usually you're able to go back to sleep within several minutes, but that doesn't seem to be on your schedule today.

A deep frown settles on your forehead as you stare up at the ceiling mindlessly.

"Is there a reason you're staring at my lamp instead of sleeping at this hour?"

His raspy morning voice snaps you out of whatever you were just thinking about — you're not sure what it was anyways — and you turn to look at him.

"Probably. I just don't really know what it is."

Leon narrows his eyes at your words.

Despite being on very good terms again, he senses something is off with you. He doesn't know what, much less why, but there's something. It makes him question himself. Did things go too fast? Do you not trust him?

But none of that would make sense. Especially since he knows about your deepest, darkest secrets — or at least he believes he does, because how much worse could it possibly get?

"Is everything okay?" He asks, pulling you closer to him, cupping your cheek.

Your sleepy but forced smile gets on his nerves. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"You look tired. How much sleep have you had?"

"Six hours..."

"Oh, that's not bad-"

"... in the past two days, I think."

Leon frowns. "You need sleep."

"I really don't. I function perfectly fine."

"I have sleeping pills if you want them."

"No, Leon, I just—" you sit up, rubbing your tired eyes with a sigh, "—this is normal for me at this point. After everything that happened, I just haven't been able to get some rest, like my body is rejecting it. It's fine. I drink some coffee and I'm good to go. Really."

Four years of torture. Being forced to kill for a living. Working with Umbrella. Your suicide attempt. The Siberia trip. Simmons being God knows where planning God knows what.

After everything you've been through recently, he certainly wouldn't blame you for losing it.

But you've allowed him back into your life. He should try to pull you out of that awful pit of darkness you're in, right?

"Do you trust me?" He asks, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"You know I do."

"Completely?"

"I don't trust anyone completely." You shrug your shoulders. "Not even myself."

And that's when he knows that whatever is bothering you is from your own actions and not his. You are what's bothering you.

The thing is that he has no idea how the hell he's supposed to help you with that.

"Why don't you take a day off?"

"Because work distracts me. And I can't keep asking Lloyd to grant me that. He's done enough for me already."

"He doesn't mind. You're important to him. To all of us." He tells you, stroking your hair, smiling at you. "You're a valuable player of the team, you know."

The words twist your guts from inside out. Your conscience begins to weigh more with every passing day. Your mouth runs dry and you just can't find it in you to come up with a proper response.

So you kiss him vigorously, which takes him by surprise. He doesn't question it — at least not right now. His weakness for you sure is something.

He sighs into the kiss, not giving a damn that neither of you have brushed your teeth yet. God, he hates going to work sometimes. He wishes he could just stay here all day, in bed, with you.

Then he hums while your lips are still on his, and he pulls back to say what he wants to say. "Baby. I'm not kidding. You do need to get some more sleep."

"We have maybe... thirty minutes before my alarm goes off."

"Great. C'mere."

Leon pulls you against him, causing you to automatically drape your arm across his chest. His fingers rub on your scalp with gentle, controlled movements, and it's your absolute weakness. He knows it makes you sleepy in no-time.

"That feels nice." You mumble, fighting the urge to close your eyes, even though you know it'll happen soon anyways.

Once you're sound asleep again, his senses get overwhelmed by the fresh smell of your shampoo, and he sighs to himself, wondering what's going on in that head of yours and why you won't talk to him about it.

But that can come later. Now he just wants to go back to sleep.

Later that day, you feel like you need to be careful. It feels like Leon's getting too close, even though you haven't actually told him anything.

As you walk into the crowded train station, your eyes scan the people appearing in your view, until you find the man in question.

He hides the hole in his cheek well with the adhesive dressing strip he covered it with. There's not a hint of emotion on his face to be detected, but the way he keeps looking around tells you that he's nervous.

"Nice bandage." You comment sarcastically, giving him a fake smile.

You're quite sure Derek Simmons hasn't smiled a day in his life. No wonder he's already got more wrinkles in his forehead than you can count. What a miserable man. "The files. Do you have them?"

"If I didn't, I wouldn't be meeting you." The words monotonously roll off your tongue as you reach into your bag to grab the grey folder before handing it to him.

It gets snatched out of your hands, much to your annoyance, and he goes through the pages in the blink of an eye. "Shot to the head?"

"Clean and simple. Ditto for the girlfriend."

"No tracks?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

He only hums and cocks his head to the side as a response. "I have a last one for you."

The man gives you another document, which you don't take. A deep frown settles in your forehead. "No. That was the last one. You said so."

"Change of plans."

His casual attitude frustrates you, especially after you've already done so much for you. "You've given me nothing to prove you can provide me with your end of the deal."

"Don't get greedy now."

"Greedy!?" The sheer audacity of this motherfucker. "Look at the shit I've already pulled for you. I murdered the Attorney-General of the United States, which is a federal crime. I'm crossing every goddamn line here, so I want that virus."

"I told you — you will get it when—"

"It's getting worse. Derek—" his eyes widen when you grab his arm with a firm grip, the desperation and pain in your voice finally matching your breaking demeanor, "—I need you to uphold your end of the deal. I did everything you wanted. I did."

But he shows no empathy. He gives you that look that you hate. A look he always uses when he silently tells you — you brought this onto yourself.

Leaning closer to him, you pull at the collar of your jacket to expose the skin underneath. "Do you not understand how serious this is? I can't hide this from them much longer."

His blank face suddenly turns into a scowl. "I thought we agreed that you'd come alone."

That makes you frown, because you are alone. "I didn't bring anyone."

When you notice he's focused on something behind you, you turn around, only to find the man you utterly betrayed standing across the hall, looking more furious than ever. Leon begins to walk towards the two of you, and it feels like your feet are locked in with the tiled floor.

Your shock is hardly concealed with the way Simmons has to quite literally drag you with him to get you moving.

"Fuck." You curse to yourself as you try to get through the people standing in your way to get to the exit.

"This wasn't part of our deal." He says as you both keep up the pace.

"It wasn't part of my plan, either. Not that it matters. You still owe me and you know it."

"You need to lay low for a while." Derek pulls you behind a pillar, then hides behind the one next to it himself. "Two weeks. South America. That's where you'll get the rest of it. You will get the coordinates later."

"Two weeks!?"

"Or never, if that's what you'd prefer." He mockingly tells you with a sharpness to it.

Which has you biting back just as much, pointing at the white strip covering his massively scarred cheek. "Oh, you should feel fucking relieved that I won't reach back there and smack the living shit out of your golf course-looking face, you diminutive fuck."

His ego certainly can't handle that, and you would love to stay to laugh at the view of the ugly man clenching his fist, but you need to make your way to the exit in order to make sure your lovely husband doesn't find you first.

Leon tries not to look as frustrated as he is while passing all the people standing in the way. Once you've disappeared from his view, he twists his lips into a look of pure disdain.

Then Lloyd's voice cracks through the radio piece in his ear. "Shadow, do you have a visual?"

"Negative. Just lost 'em. They probably split up."

"Go for Simmons. Bring him in for questioning."

"Copy."

Having an alias for field operations is more of a military kind of thing, but with how intense their operations get, they each have one as well. Leon is known as Shadow, occasionally Shadow-1. He's not sure if he likes it, but it's the name they gave him, especially since he excels at silent takedowns and blending in with the environment.

Lloyd is Watcher-1 due to his great observation skills and the fact that he usually handles operations from a distance. Yoko is the Lieutenant, given her own military history, and that was her rank there. Neal ended up as Scout, or as the rest of them like to call him, Boy Scout.

As of right now, Lloyd is the only one involved in the current situation, but Yoko and Neal are on stand-by.

Leon gets to the top of the stairs. You're gone, as if you disappeared into thin air, but he sees the backdoor of a liquor store closing after someone, and he knows that's where he needs to go.

As he walks over to it, the owner of the store tries to stop him. "Hey, that's restricted for—"

All he has to do is show the suppressed pistol now in hand to shut the guy up. It's terrifyingly easy sometimes.

The passageway leads to some stairs. The space is narrow, dusty, and the motor of the fan for the ventilation system makes plenty of noise. Just as he wants to pass the corner, a bullet whizzes right past his face, nearly hitting him in the process.

Goddamnit. This shit is ruining his whole day.

"Scout to Shadow, I'm on the scene. Do you have a visual on either of the targets?"

That's good. Neal is in the station now, and he's done a mission here before, so he knows the layout of the place.

"Simmons is around the corner in the back hallway, facing east. Armed with a revolver."

"Don't take him out yet. Keep him busy. I know a way to sneak around."

Leon curses to himself. There's nothing he'd rather do than shoot the fucker right here, right now. The fact that he could take a successful headshot from here pisses him off even more.

"You should've aimed for the head, Agent Kennedy." He hears the guy say at the other end of the hallway, crouched behind a crate. "It could've been so easy, but you just couldn't help it, could you?"

Despite the fact that his blood is boiling right now, his attitude is completely calm. He won't let him have that satisfaction. "Don't worry, Derek. You'll die by my hands, and I'll make sure it hurts."

"I feel honored that you'd waste your energy on me. But for now I should be good — with your wife's protection, of course."

His finger twitches, dangerously close to the trigger of the magnum in his palm.

"Shadow, prepare for a flash grenade. Engaging in 3... 2... 1."

Said flash grenade is thrown in from the other side. Leon closes his eyes and covers his ears, and once the awful high-pitched noise dies down, Neal appears next to him, dragging their target across the floor.

"Knocked him out." He grins, holding up another blue flashbang in his hand. "These babies make my life so much easier."

Leon sighs. He's got trauma from the last time he used those things.

Simmons is knocked out on the floor, so the two men look at eachother and nod curtly. Time to move now that he's passed out.

Everything happens rather fast after that. Yoko pushes the man down onto the chair in the middle of the container in an empty warehouse. It's just the three of them interrogating him for now, because Lloyd is still out looking for any sign of you.

Leon circles the chair, waving his hands as he monotonously talks, because the fucker is awake again. "You better tell me where the hell my wife is, what you did to her and what you're up to."

"Unfortunately that's none of your business."

"I just made it my business. Answer the damn question."

"Believe it or not, she's working for me out of her own free will." He chuckles, leaning back in the chair. "It's a wildly fun experience."

"Must be new for you, considering you always force your will onto everyone like the piece of shit you are."

"I'm flattered, Agent Kennedy, really."

"I'll ask one more time. Where is she?"

But Simmons shakes his head. He's not saying a damn thing. Leon inhales sharply and gets out of the way, giving the next in the chain of command the opportunity to rough him up a little.

Yoko removes the pretty ring on her finger, cracks her knuckles, and just starts beating the shit out of him. Once his face is bloody and he's nearly choking on his own spit, she halts for a moment, allowing Leon to speak up again.

"I'll find her one way or another, Derek. Point is that I'm in charge of who lives and who dies. I could let you live or send you to a horribly slow death, whichever you prefer."

"You think you're in charge? That's funny." He laughs, tilting his head. "Go ahead. Kill me. But you'll never see your precious girl again."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Neal suddenly speaks up with a deep frown. "You just said she was working for you willingly."

But Simmons ignores him completely, only making eye contact with Leon. "I warned you. Right before you gave me this. But you just wouldn't listen to me when I tried to tell you." He chuckles with the most belittling tone he's ever heard, smirking as if he's the smartest guy in the room. "Your wife's practically insane — and she's planning to go on a little murder spree. I just cut a deal with her to make sure I didn't get included on her list."

"What the fuck are you taking about?"

That's when Simmons shrugs, shutting his mouth at the moments he shouldn't.

Leon inhales sharply with gritted teeth. His cool facade is crumbling with each passing minute. There's a pair of brass knuckles sitting in the backpocket of his jacket, and as of right now, he's very tempted to use them.

It's almost as if the universe sends him a sign, because at that exact moment, a phone rings.

Neal retrieves his phone from his jeans, answering the call. "What's up, boss?" His tone isn't nearly as playful as it usually is, nodding and answering with brief sentences and hums, until his eyes widen. "Okay. We'll be right there."

Once he hangs up again, Yoko frowns at him. "What was it?"

"There's been an attack at the D.C. substation. Three dead. Apparently, it was bloody."

Fuck. There's no way in hell this is a coincidence.

He sighs, running his hand over his face, turning to the man sitting on the chair as if he were at the desk in his own office. "You're staying right here. This isn't over."

Simmons merely raises his hands into the air, shrugging with such fake innocence that has every other person in the room aching to beat the shit out of him.

But that'll have to wait, unfortunately.

The next few hours go by like a blur, and Leon decides that this, by far, has got to be the worst day in his life.

Because even though there's no tracks, clues or evidence to be found of the attacker at the scene of the crime, he knows it was your doing. The rest of the team finds it difficult to believe though. They all think there's plenty of possibility that it was someone else, or perhaps that's just what they want to believe after seeing how open and vulnerable you've presented yourself recently.

So he figures he's on his own for now.

When they return to the warehouse to interrogate Simmons further, he's gone. Nowhere to be found. Not a single trace that he was even there in the first place, save for the splatters of blood on the floor.

It's when he realizes how stupid he was for agreeing to go to the crime scene — because that's exactly what you wanted him to do. The dead agents were just a decoy to lure him away from Simmons, solely so you could free him.

And he played right into it.

Eleven days pass by agonizingly slow. Leon fills his days with lots of work and lots of alcohol to prevent a single thought from occurring, hoping to get you off his mind for just a second, but to no avail. His agitation and frustration only build up on the daily.

He's starting to hate his damn apartment too. Everything reminds him of you, and it's getting on his nerves.

Every time Lloyd, Neal or Yoko try to talk to him about it, he shuts off completely. He makes it clear that he doesn't want to talk about the fact that you betrayed him like this after your relationship was finally changing into a better, healthier one.

He doesn't want to believe it, but... maybe you two don't fit together. Maybe you just don't work anymore.

Heartbreak. What a thing.

Ever since you disappeared, he's been searching. He went to the rink you used to frequent several times a week, but the owner said you haven't been there in quite a while. He checked your apartment, only to find it cold and empty. Your neighbors haven't caught a glimpse of you in God knows how long. Your car is still in the garage, slowly gathering specks of dust.

It's like you don't even exist — but nothing is less true.

Twisting the key inside the lock, you quietly enter the apartment, a wave of anxiety hitting you. You've been laying low for more than a week now, so every time you cross a street, enter a store or sit in your damn car, you could be spotted.

The apartment is not the same as the one you lived in before pretty much moving into Leon's place. This apartment is one of the few safehouses you own under a different name, and this one in particular is mostly just a supply for certain items should there be an emergency. You find that the current situation classifies as one.

You need guns, at least two fake passports, some extra cash and a burner phone. Simmons has yet to send the coordinates for the meeting point, but you know you'll at least have to cross the border to Mexico. You worry you might even have to catch a plane if it's even further down the map.

At first glance, you wouldn't think any of the things you need would be sitting around here. The interior looks normal, as if someone actually lives here, but the reality is the complete opposite.

You walk over to the cupboard against the wall, unzip your black bag and put it down on top of it.

Behind the painting of an artist whose name you can't remember sits a small but weighty safe. Your fingers press the right numbers, forming one of the many codes you have in the back of your head, and it makes a beeping sound to signal that it's unlocked.

Your hands are shaking when you grab everything from the safe and throw it into the bag. There's no reason to be this nervous, or at least that's what you try to convince yourself of. Should anyone be tracking you, you've got the upper hand. You got this.

Closing the safe, you bite your lip and zip the bag up again, switching your leather jacket with the long black coat you forgot was even in the closet here.

Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you walk back out the door and lock it up again.

"Going somewhere?"

Well, this is bad. Really bad.

Your eyes slowly trail up the stairs to where he's standing in his three-piece with his hand-made dress shoes that undoubtedly have his initials stitched inside them, like every other pair he owns.

Unsure of what to say, you shrug your shoulders. "Took you long enough."

He takes a step down, still standing above you on the staircase. "What's in the bag?"

"Clothes."

"I doubt that."

He takes another step down. You don't move a muscle, not even when you take notice of the gun in his hand.

"What is this?" He asks, shrugging his shoulders, taking the final step down, his face now mere inches away from yours. "Be honest with me. For once."

You try not to look as guilty as you feel. "You'll find out soon enough. You always do."

Leon grabs your arm. "We can't keep doing this. Lying to each other, making up again, lies again. I can't keep going on like this."

Neither can you. It's not something you want. You were so happy with him, so glad when you got that glimpse of happiness with him, but it's not in your reach. Not really.

"We won't make up this time." You choke up, biting your lip to keep yourself from tearing up. "I'm sorry."

He just watches as you spare him a last glance and make your way down the stairs — and he doesn't understand why he's just letting you.

And he feels weak for the first time in a long time.

You get outside, cursing under your breath when you see it's raining fucking hard again, the street only illuminated by the lights. Getting to the black SUV across the road, you open the trunk and throw your bag into it.

"So you're just gonna disappear again? Run off into the sunset with your archnemesis?"

"Oh, for the love of God—can't you just accept that I've got some business to take care of?"

A sigh escapes his mouth when you close the trunk again, and he pushes you against the back of the car. His breathing is heavy and uneven and he glances down at your parted lips for a moment.

As the rain pours, thunder heard in the far distance, you're not sure what to think, say, or do.

Leon looks at you as if he's going through the five stages of grief in mere seconds, and what's even worse is that he appears to know exactly what you're thinking. "You could start by telling me why you did it."

"As if that would change anything."

"It wouldn't, but it would be nice to get some clarity as to why in the hell you're working with the man who drove you to attempt suicide."

His words are harsh, but you can't blame him. You'd probably react the same way if the roles were reversed.

So you explain exactly how it happened after pushing him off you, taking a few steps away from him. "The day when Yoko and I went to talk to the Contractor at his pawnshop, he secretly put a piece of paper into my jacket. It turned out to have an address on it — which was his hiding spot at the time. I went there, beat him up and tied him up with the intention of torturing and killing him."

"What stopped you?"

Your lashes flutter as you cast your gaze to your reflection in the puddle of water on the asphalt.

"I hope you feel scared, asshole, because when I'm done with you, you'll be begging for me to kill you." You chuckle while standing in front of him, silenced pistol still in hand.

But he doesn't look the slightest bit intimidated, not even with his fresh blue eye and all the blood seeping out of his wounds. "Then I really hope for your sake you do it fast — you don't have much longer, after all."

His words make you question your own hearing. "What are you talking about?"

"You didn't think I would get myself an insurance policy?" He asks rhetorically, scoffing at your surprised expression. "I knew my time as your supervisor or my own safety wouldn't last much longer with Kennedy around, considering he's sickeningly obssessed with you, so I made sure to inject a certain virus into your body once you were completely knocked out back in Siberia."

His laughter echoes through the room, and you feel like you're about to throw up. "What virus? What does it do?"

"Well, for starters, it'll weaken you physically. Don't get your hopes up. I've come to know that's what you wanted." He smugly says, enjoying every second of this. "Then, once it's taken long enough, it will start causing malfunctions in the brain, altering each lobe bit by bit. It starts at the frontal lobe and ends with the brain stem — and I think we both know what result that will have."

Death. As soon as that virus hits your brain, you're as good as done for.

"You're a sick, miserable fuck." You spit at him, hot tears brimming at your lower lash line.

"That hurts." The mocking tone makes you want to slit your throat on the spot. "But you are the finest weapon I have ever seen in the field, and I know you. I know you enjoy the adrenaline, the power. I know you've wanted your freedom from our very first meeting. So I have an offer for you."

"That must mean a lot, coming from you."

Derek ignores your comment and speaks up again. "For me to live in peace without having the agency on my back, I need every single trace of mine to be wiped out completely. That means that my file needs to be deleted from the database and people need to get killed."

"And you want me to do it." You fill in the blanks, laughing humorlessly to yourself. "And in exchange, I get the antidote."

"Not just the antidote — you'll get another virus that will make you even stronger than you already are."

The sarcasm in your tone comes naturally. "Yes, because that will get the government off my back. My value as a fucking weapon will just increase."

"It will." He nods his head. "So, as far as I'm concerned, you can kill them all. Surely you understand that I'm not the only one who watched as your limits were being pushed over and over again? I can list every single name for you. Everyone involved."

"And then what?"

"Then you can have your revenge. And you could even go as far as to get rid of every single agent who knows about your abilities — you could even have a fresh start."

"That's ridiculous." You manage to choke out. "And impossible."

"It's only impossible in your head." He grins, knowing he's caught your interest, because as deranged as the plan sounds, you can't help but think it over, again and again. "If anyone could pull that off, it's you."

"How long until the virus will really start weakening me?"

"A month. Five weeks, at most."

God. That's even less than you expected. Fuck, fuck fuck. The man in front of you will be your undoing.

Sucking and biting at the inside of your cheek, you nervously tap your finger against your leg, clenching your fists, feeling so overwhelmed that you wish the ground would just swallow you whole — and then you give him your answer.

"Deal."

Leon listens to you with shock as you tear up in front of him, needing him to understand why you did it. "Look at this. It's been getting worse. He's not lying, it's fucking real."

"Jesus Christ—" is all he's able to let out when you show him your arms, neck and upper chest. The reddish-purple patterns on your skin almost resemble veins. You look like someone who's been struck by lightning, considering the marks look like Lichtenberg figures.

You gasp for air when your throat closes off. "I have to meet him in South America in three days time. He'll give me what I need."

"But you don't actually believe him, do you?" He asks, frowning at you. "He would never give you the antidote. He's probably trying to lure you there to kill you now that you've done his bidding."

"He won't."

"He's not exactly the type of guy who sticks to a promise. What does he stand to gain from keeping you alive?"

"The last targets he's given me — they're colleagues."

It's quiet for a moment, save for the rain coming down. You stare at him with deadly determination, and he does the same.

Then he understands what you're saying.

"You're going through with it. The little plan of revenge he set up for you."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Killing Simmons is not enough, Leon. I will kill him, but only once he's given me what I need — then the rest will follow."

"The rest?"

"I'm gonna kill every single person who knew about it, and I'm gonna make it hurt. It's more agents than you might think." You scoff, raising your chin. "As a matter of fact, it's nearly a whole branch of the agency."

And his heart drops to his fucking feet — because he's done some of his own digging. He knows the numbers.

"That's hundreds of people. Half of which, if not more, are innocent."

Deep down, you know that he's right. You do.

Your voice is quiet and almost pained when you speak. "It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Leon knows he's undoubtedly a bad person. He's guilty of more crimes than you can count on two hands, including cold-blooded murder, but he's still grown to live up to his own moral code. He doesn't kill innocent people. It's the one thing he won't do. Not anymore.

So to hear you say this, to see you look the way you do is utterly insane to him. Either you're too far gone or Simmons has manipulated you to the point you're not seeing reason anymore.

"Is this really just about revenge? Because we both know you've wanted more power since the day you got it."

"Maybe it's about both! Who cares? What does it matter, Leon?" You ask him, raising your voice.

"Because they'll kill you for this!" He stresses, trying to convince himself that you haven't lost it yet. "They'll tear you apart!"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Do you really not think that a war criminal with the strength of a fucking army would be their top priority? Especially once you've slaughtered dozens of their men? This is suicide!"

He's so utterly desperate for you to see reason, especially when you stay quiet, clearly not planning to abandon your ideas.

"What about your family? They will end up holding your loved ones hostage, at gunshot —they'll shoot them one by one, right in front of your nose."

"I won't let that happen."

"It will happen."

"If you love me, you'll let me do this."

"Don't you dare." It's those manipulative words that turn his part of his desperation to anger. "Do not ever say that to me again. Jesus Christ — what about me? What the hell am I to you? Someone you've had fun with for a while?"

"Oh, come on—"

"No, tell me. What are we? Because this—" he snarls as he points his finger to you, then to him, then frantically repeats the motion. "—this isn't love."

"I thought... I thought you out of all people would get it." You frown, voicing your genuine confusion.

"You're throwing your life away for your ambition and urge for revenge. There's nothing I get about that."

"You said it yourself, Leon." The laugh that escapes your mouth is anything but humorous. "You said I was a cardboard copy of you."

"No. I've never done something like this."

"Oh, really? So you didn't sell your soul to the devil to take care of you and your sister? You don't have the blood of innocents on your hands?"

"I do. Which I'm more than aware of. It's something I gotta live with every day, but the difference between you and me is that I felt like I had no other option. And back then I was naive enough to think my job wouldn't involve cold-blooded murder, and that was my mistake. I had no idea what the fuck I was signing up for. But you? You know exactly what consequences your actions will have."

"I'll lose everyone I care about. Even you. Is that what you're trying to tell me?" You ask him in a hushed tone, taking a step closer. "But that won't matter once I'm dead, should it kill me like you're saying it will. All of us can have peace. This hell will finally be over."

His gaze shifts between your eyes as he tries to force his emotions down, especially when he grabs your shoulders. "Wake up. Wake the fuck up. You're not thinking straight."

But his attempts aren't getting through to you. He wants you to see reason before it's too late, but as you fail to react, he slowly begins to realize you've dug too deep of a hole to escape from.

The color drains from his face right then and there. His instincts suddenly kick in, and he looks up at you with tired eyes. "You won't be going to meet Simmons."

"You don't get to decide that for me."

He steps closer to you, grabbing your arms, and you're not sure why you're not pushing him away. "You speak as if I haven't kept you with me for your own safety before. But don't worry. I won't put you in handcuffs this time."

"Let go of me, goddamnit!" He traps you in his hold the same way as four years ago, in that goddamn underground lab, except this time things are different.

Sure, you have strength. But that's of no use, because he's already inserted a needle into your neck, and it doesn't take long before the sedative starts working. Your eyes roll back and your body goes numb, but he's able to catch you just in time to prevent you from hitting the ground.

And Leon finally knows what it feels like to lose his mind.

Notes:

and so the final chapters are set in motion.

as controversial as it might be, this take on reader's character is what i knew i was going to include the second i started writing the sequel. i think it's interesting to see her become a version of what leon was at the beginning of the story. she has a big heart but bigger ambitions. she does things that are highly morally questionable but has a reason for (most of) it. she's been severely damaged and dehumanized by people like simmons and she wants revenge… question is whether she'll get it or not.

anyways that's all for now. until next time :)

Chapter 34: Act II - 12. The Edge of Sanity

Summary:

Your reckless behavior begins to cause a rift between the members of the team.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

"You fucker!"

A glass bottle breaks into pieces, red liquid mixed with drops of your own blood spreading on the grey tiles as it's thrown against the other side of the wooden door. He's lost count of how many you've broken already.

Locking you in his wine cellar was pretty much the only thing he could think of. He didn't know where else to go with you, and the place has solid walls and no windows or other entrances, so it'll have to do for now.

So of course you made it your mission to smash every single bottle in sight.

He genuinely couldn't care less about the bottles. He's got more than enough money to buy new ones — yet he rolls his eyes as he leans with his back against the door, exhausted from everything that's happened in the past two days. Not that it stops him from being sarcastic in his responses.

"You're wasting energy and liquor, but sure, go ahead, knock yourself out." Leon speaks, after which he can hear you throwing the next bottle with considerably more force than before. "Nice throw."

"Next one's coming at your face. Fuck you, Kennedy!"

The words don't affect him. Not anymore. A switch in his head seems to have flipped after hearing the things you said to him just hours earlier — right before he stuck that needle in your neck.

But it does hurt him. He never imagined the person he loved most would lose it like this, he's rarely seen anything like it. Facing you in the rain was a terrifying thing to see.

Maybe he was stupid to think happiness was finally within his reach.

He sighs, leaning the side of his body against the door. "Will you calm the hell down?"

"Calm down!? Don't tell me that shit!"

As he rolls his eyes once more, his superior steps into view with a beyond confused expression on his face. "Is that—why the hell is she locked in there?"

"Lloyd? Lloyd, it's me!" You call helplessly from your position, begging for his help as a last resort, which takes every last ounce of your dignity away.

Lloyd's eyes shift from the door to Leon's, who's trying to find the words. "Funny story, actually. Turns out my wife is even more of a homicidal maniac than I am, which means we've, you know — hit rock bottom. So, yeah, she's, uh... a little angry."

"Oh, I'm more than just a little angry, you asshole!" Your voice sounds slightly muffled from the other side of the door.

"Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn't have fucked me over! Ever think about that, huh?" He tells you with a raised voice, banging on the door once, after which your rage only flares up.

"Shut—the hell—up!" You yell back, trying to force the door open with every word leaving your mouth.

Leon's clearly not done bickering with you, but Lloyd stops him by grabbing his arm. "Stop. You need to stop."

"I'm not—"

"Zip it. I'll ask again, and I want a proper answer. Why in the hell is your wife locked up in your wine cellar?"

A question he's never had to ask someone before, that's for damn sure.

Leon clenches his jaw, fuming with anger. "Because she's working with Simmons."

Lloyd presses his lips together out of disappointment, sighing to himself while pinching the bridge of his nose. "Naturally."

The two men raise a brow when they hear a scoff from you. "What do you mean, 'naturally'?"

"Please do not tell me you're actually acting offended right now. Honestly."

Getting back to business, you bang against the door again. "Please, just—just let me out. We can talk, or... something."

"We are way past talking, General. I assume you can understand that." Lloyd says, pushing Leon out of the hallway to talk to him privately so you can't listen in on their conversation. "Why is she not in a proper cell? I'm surprised she hasn't broken out yet."

Leon narrows his eyes and gives a sarcastic response. "Well, Smith, A) I couldn't exactly go to the agency to tell them to lock up my wife because she's a danger to them in particular, and B) I don't really have anything like a cell that's strong enough to hold my very own version of Superman."

Speaking of, you pull yourself out of your fit of rage to use the strength you still have left. A hefty bottle of expensive champagne — which must've been a gift, considering Leon hates the taste of it — now sits in your hands, fingers clamping around the heel of it while you focus on the door.

Your husband notices you've stopped throwing bottles, which he finds weird, because that's unlike you.

Then he suddenly sees the small hole made in the door after you threw the bottle of champagne at it with all the force you've got left. The hole isn't big enough for your hand to get through yet, but if you keep going like this, that'll change soon.

Lloyd sees it too. "I thought you said you drugged her. Why is she awake?"

"Because I only had so much with me. She may be awake, but she's weak. Well, weaker, anyway. For now."

The man hisses to himself, teeth grazing past his lower lip as he tries to think of what to do next. "She needs to be moved before she gets her strength back, but she's cornered, and I think she might go as far as to do something to either of us, so how do we sedate her?"

So Leon bites his lower lip. "I might have an idea."

Several minutes later, as you're reduced to a silently sobbing mess on the one part of the floor that isn't covered in shards of glass, you hear someone softly knocking on the door.

"Hello?"

The voice is quiet and sweet, one you recognize immediately at this point. "Yoko?"

"What the hell are you doing in there?"

"I'll tell you later, just—can you please get me out of here? Please, it's important—"

"I don't have the key, but... I might be able to figure something out. Hold on."

You get worried the moment it sounds like she's leaving. "Don't leave! Don't leave, please."

She tries to get you to shut up. "Be quiet. They might hear us."

"Just—just hurry up, please."

You can hear the noises of the lock being picked. Your heart pounds like crazy in your chest, to the point that it hurts, because you need to escape if you wanna live. Your life is in their hands.

Then the lock clicks and the door opens up a small crack, after which she guides you out — and you quite literally throw yourself into her arms. "Oh my God—thank you, thank you."

Yoko feels the way you're trembling, the sweat on your skin, the coldness of your hands. You release her and she gently touches your tear-stained face, and she's genuinely, really worried about your well-being.

She takes a bottle of water out of her bag, which you drink nearly everything of in one go because you're so thirsty.

"Whoa, slow down. Deep breaths. You look like you're burning up." She says, putting the back of her hand against your forehead. "What happened? What's going on?"

"I need to get out of here. Unseen. If I don't, I'll—"

Suddenly it hits you.

Everything becomes blurry, bit by bit, and you look down at the bottle in her hand. Then you look up at her again, and she knows you know.

And she looks guilty.

"I'm sorry. I really am." Her voice is strained, but you're too far gone again to say anything.

She did it for your own good. Truly.

Yoko makes sure you don't hit the floor when you collapse from being drugged for the second time tonight. It makes her sick to her stomach, to have to do this to someone she's grown to care about.

She gently lays you down to get the others.

The three remaining members of the crew gather by your unconscious body, and Leon kneels at your side, exposing part of your skin to show the marks you've been hiding from him until today.

"Jesus. What is that?"

"The sign that she's dying soon." He chokes out, his fingers running past his shaved jaw. "We need to move her. Now. I have no idea how long this dose will work on her."

He snakes his one arm underneath your back and the other under your knees, lifting you up, and he tries not to look as pained as he does when he gazes upon your almost lifeless body.

Sometimes, just occasionally, he wishes he was able to love you less.

When you wake up, your head hurts so much that it has you whimpering in your place. The bright lighting in the room has your mind spinning, because you're not sure where you are or how you got here.

Then someone grabs your cheeks to make you face them. They examine your pupils with that little flashlight doctors always use, then they measure your temperature — Jesus, why can't you get your eyes to focus?

"Condition is stable."

You're barely able to reach for your forehead with how sore your body feels. The blurriness finally seems to go away, your vision becomes clear, and that's when you the blonde-haired agent kneeled next to you.

He doesn't seem nearly as cheerful as he normally does.

"Neal?" You croak out, eyelids twitching as a sign you need some sleep.

The young man looks at you briefly, but he forces his gaze away from yours. As if it hurts to look at you. "Lay still."

It's all he says. You frown even deeper when he suddenly puts his cold hands on your skin, hissing through your teeth at the feeling, but he doesn't remove them.

When you raise your arm to push him away, you begin to notice what he's doing.

On the inside of your arm, you find a few hand-drawn lines which look like they were made with textbook markers. Blinking in confusion, you examine them, beginning to wonder whether this is all just some fever dream you have to break out of.

"It's to measure how fast it's spreading." He explains absentmindedly. "I started with red. Then moved onto green, you get the idea. Blue was when you passed out, so that's about twelve hours ago."

There's several centimeters of growth of the figures between the blue lines and the black ones he's currently applying. It's spreading fast — really fast. Your time is running out.

Wait... twelve hours. It's been twelve hours since they took you out. That means you have to meet Simmons in two days time.

"Where am I?" You ask him, the urgency clear in your voice now that you're completely conscious again.

"Somewhere safe."

"Neal." You scoff with a very obvious fake smile, swallowing the bitter taste in your mouth. "Just work with me here. It's not like I can't break out of this place, or any other for that matter."

"Actually, you can't." Another voice suddenly echoes through the awfully bright room, which has you sitting up in your spot on the floor.

Lloyd steps into the room with his hands in his pockets, after which you notice Leon and Yoko casually leaning against the wall. They must've already been standing at the other side of the room the entire time. Neither of them bother to look at you.

Your boss moves to stand next to Neal and puts a hand on his shoulder, as if to tell him he can wrap it up. And he does.

Getting up from your spot on shaky feet, the first thing you receive is a hit to the face.

The thing about this squad is that they don't just trust anyone. None of them. They might seem like they do, but they're all people who are wary of others, people who have been betrayed before. So when they do trust someone, when they let someone in, and that person betrays them — that comes with consequences.

Usually that consequence is death.

It's Lloyd who ends up making the decision. He's the boss, after all. He chooses what the punishment is and who carries it out.

The blow comes at you so hard that you stumble backwards, against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. Goddamn does that man have some strength in his arms. A trail of blood runs down your nose, after which you chuckle a little.

"Ow. Fucking hell. I kinda liked that." You giggle as if it were the most normal thing in the world, adrenaline beginning to surge through your veins. That rush is what you live for.

He grabs your face calmly, and this is the first time you see a dangerous man lurking underneath his usual quiet, kind and calm demeanor. You didn't take Lloyd as the violent type, but then you realize there's probably a reason why he's the leader of this squad.

"Day one. The training session. I told you I value loyalty above all else." He finally speaks, grabbing your chin in a tight hold, forcing your eyes to focus on him. "I put my trust in you and you broke it."

"That was your mistake."

"You're damn right it was. But I'm going to rectify it."

"Oh, sure, go ahead. I'd love to see you try." You laugh at him, pushing him away from you and putting your hands up in the air to taunt him. "Unless you're gonna kill me—"

He puts his gun up but you don't flinch or even move the slightest bit. Instead, you take a step forward, putting your forehead against the barrel.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

Shrugging your shoulders, you look like you couldn't care less about your life. Maybe you don't. You're not really sure anymore. "In all honesty, I don't even have one. Shoot."

"I probably should. But you're still somewhat valuable."

You knew it. You fucking knew he wouldn't shoot you. "Are you sure that's it?"

"What else would it be?"

"Don't act like you don't care about me. I know you better than that."

"I don't deny it." The man in charge says. His attitude melts into this strange combination of relaxation and hypervigilance all at once. "But I've had to kill people I cared about before. That's always where betrayal comes from, doesn't it? It's never the enemy."

And that, exactly, is what makes him and Leon so different. Leon wouldn't be able to pull the trigger on you. He can't do that to someone he cares about, as cold-hearted as he may seem and can be occasionally, whereas Lloyd has a strict code for himself, and he will go to many lengths to uphold it. The fact that he's sparing you says a lot.

When you don't really know what to say to that, he waves with his hands as he paces in front of you, hands in his pockets.

"Well, General, this is the plan," he begins, calling you by your alias solely to come off colder, "I haven't decided what your punishment is yet, but I know one thing, and that's that I want you alive. You will be staying in this cozy little space for the next few days — at least until we've returned from Peru with the antidote."

Peru. That's new information. So they got the coordinates from your burner phone, then. Fucking great.

"I find it hilarious you think you have any say in what I do. Besides, Simmons won't hand it to you of all people."

"I'm sure we'll be able to pry it out of his cold, dead hands." He retorts rather quickly.

"You can't kill him yet."

"I can and I will."

"The antidote isn't enough. I need the second virus as well."

"You're not getting it."

The way he's reprimanding you like a child has you clenching your fists. Who the fuck does he think he is? You're the strongest weapon the government has. He's nothing compared to you.

So you tap your finger against his chest, voice scarily calm. "I will break out of this goddamn cell and I'll get that sample — and if you stand in my way, you're gonna end up just like the rest of the fuckers who tried to test me."

It's silent for a moment when your supervisor stares down at you. There's clearly a massive difference between you and him on the moral spectrum, and that causes you to clash like this. Complete opposites don't always attract, that's for damn sure.

Neither of you plan on backing down, so someone else has to step in before either of you do something you'll regret.

"Look, we...we watched the tapes. A lot of them, and—" Yoko suddenly speaks up, shrugging her shoulders. "—I get it. You're in pain. You feel like you're weak and you wanna get stronger—"

That's when you finally turn to face her, utter contempt and irritation visible on your face.

"You... get me?" You repeat her words with a harsh and mocking tone, narrowing your eyes. "Do you actually wanna tell me you have any idea what goes on in my head? You wanna tell me you know what it's like to be tortured on the daily?"

But Yoko is desperate for you to see that all they want to do is help — and that your plan will only get you killed. "We just wanna help you."

"You can help me by getting the fuck off my back and minding your own business."

With your tone becoming angrier, her voice raises as well. "And where's that gonna get you, exactly?"

"Anything's better than this goddamn cell. Which none of you can hold me in, by the way. I'm not gonna be a prisoner for a second longer in my life."

"Well, for now, you are." She bites back, and you clench your fists while a scowl appears on your face.

A wave of silence hits you. Your breathing steadies for a moment, the corner of your lip twitches so quick you'd most likely miss it, every muscle in your face relaxes — and then you snap.

You take a hold of the extra knife that you always hide in your boot and hold it with a firm grip to the point your knuckles go white, ready to attack. "Oh, I'm gonna kill you, you bitch—"

Just before you can reach her, however, Leon blocks you and grabs both your wrists. It's the first time since waking up that he looks at you.

"What's it gonna take for you to get to your senses? Does one of us have to die in front of your eyes first?" He snarls, finally speaking up.

"Let go of me!"

You could easily rip him apart. You've still got enough power to do that — but maybe, just maybe, there's something holding you back.

"And then what? You're gonna cut me out first? No. You're not laying a goddamn finger on anyone on this room."

"Don't push me, Kennedy."

"I already have." He says, mimicking your words from a while back.

It renders you speechless for a moment, but you're still fuming. "Don't tell me you give a shit about the lives of innocents. If you were in my place, you would do the same."

"I wouldn't."

"You would have murdered every single survivor in Raccoon if it weren't for me." You tell him, provoking him. "Your morals are no better than mine."

"But that's the thing, isn't it?" His tone is mocking and demanding as he looks at you. "You were there. And I'm glad you were — because I would've probably done something I'd regret if you hadn't."

That makes you frown. Whatever you expected, it wasn't this. You remain silent.

So he takes the opportunity to try and talk some sense into you. "This time it's the other way around. I need you to stop, because you'll regret this. You will."

Leon tries not to focus on how much his hands are trembling, despite the cold look in his eyes. He can literally feel your grip faltering bit by bit, your rage dying down.

"You weren't there for me. No one was there for me. They laughed at me as I bled out, even when I did what was asked of me." You can feel yourself choking up, fresh tears pooling in your eyes. "I did everything they wanted. Always. Every time. I completely lost myself, I don't even remember who I was before this living hell — I sacrificed everything for those assholes."

"And now you're gonna sacrifice your life for them too? Because that's the final thing they'll take, even when they're dead."

"Shut up. Shut up. You're just trying to get into my head. I won't fall for it." You tell him, but it sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself of it. You're so messed up that you're starting to have a hard time trying to discern what's fake and what's real.

But he shakes his head, knowing you're not as heartless as you want them to believe. "It's the truth and you know it."

Clenching your teeth on each other, the pressure on your jaw increases. "I want revenge. They can't get away with this, goddamnit — is it really so wrong of me to want to see them suffer? 'Cause you're treating me like I'm insane. I just want them to hurt like I did."

"It's not wrong. What's wrong is that you're not willing to see the consequences of your revenge. I'm not letting you get killed over this."

"That's not your decision to make!" You hiss at him, attempting to break through his grasp for a brief moment, but he sees it coming and manages to hold you back. "It's not fair. You spill blood and no one bats an eye, but when I do it, I need to be put down. I only became what you told me to be."

"No, that's not true."

"It is. This is what you wanted. All that talk about self-preservation and the people you would've gotten rid of if it weren't for me. Even after we got separated, you were a shitty person, and people talked about you as if you were some saint, and everyone talked about me like I was damaged goods. Now it's my fucking turn to be in charge."

Jesus Christ.

He's partially to blame for the monster in front of him.

After you both started working for the agency, he quickly got a solid reputation despite all the things he did for Umbrella, the things he did to you in Raccoon City, and you... you were completely innocent, only to be thrown into a life you never wanted, abused and dehumanized by a despicable and pathetic excuse of a man, and you had to live with that unfairness for years on end.

Of course you're bitter about it. You have every right to be — he feels stupid for not seeing it sooner.

"So this is your solution? Ignoring everyone and everything, knowing your life will come to an end soon anyways — uninhibited."

Most spitefully, you confirm his words with a nod of your head. "I wanna see blood. I don't care what I have to do to get it."

The knife in your hand now touches the white dress shirt covering his chest. He allows it.

"Listen to me. We will get you that antidote. We'll be back before you know it." He tells you, calmer than before. "We will."

"It's not enough." You plead softly, nearly forgetting about the weapon in your hand, begging him to agree with you, to let you have this. "Please, just—"

He makes a bold move by letting go of one of your wrists, his fingers wrapping around the blade. Your grip around the handle tightens again out of reflex, and a few drops of his blood begin to run down his own wrist, but he shows no signs of being in pain.

"Drop the knife." He orders with a noticeably quiet voice. He sees your gaze shifting to the rest of the crew behind him for a brief moment, which is the last thing that should be happening right now. "Don't look at them, look at me. C'mon."

You stay quiet but do listen to him as you make eye contact with him once more.

"Just let go." He says, speaking softer this time while noticing your widening eyes. "Let go."

The sound of the rest of the crew heavily breathing behind him makes you sick to your stomach. They treat you like a villain — it's only fair for you to become one.

With steady but heavy breathing, you bite your trembling lip, face inching just a bit closer to Leon's. "If I die in this cell, don't bother showing up to my fucking funeral."

You rip the knife out of his hand, his skin splitting open, at which he hisses. Angrily, you throw the blade across the room, the noise echoing throughout the cell.

You speak up again, laughing at them while a few tears run down your cheeks. "I may be a traitor, but you're all gonna die with me. Good luck getting that antidote, because you're gonna be walking to your deaths!"

Due to dizziness in your head, you feel your back hitting the wall as you try to hold yourself up, the pain in your body increasing as you quite literally watch the red patterns on your arm spread.

This is it. You're gonna die in this cell. All alone, abandoned by everyone and everything.

You hope they'll pick a good portrait to use for your funeral.

Completely zoning out into your own thoughts, your body sinks against the wall, and you're left alone in the room.

Behind the glass lies a monitor room, screens showcasing the inside of the cell. The dagger with Leon's blood on it is thrown onto the nearest flat surface once they've all gathered in said room.

"She's fuckin' lost it." Neal breathes out, still shocked from whatever it was he just witnessed.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I feel bad for her." Yoko adds, only then noticing how angry their boss is.

"You wanna tell me that you had no idea she had a knife in her boot?" Lloyd hisses at his second-in-command. "'Cause we both know that's bullshit."

Leon's face remains completely neutral until the right corner of his mouth curls up, all while using clean white cloth from the first aid kit on the fresh cut in his palm. "No, I knew it was there."

"And you thought it was a good idea to leave it there?"

"Clearly."

Lloyd is fuming. "I'm getting real sick of these mind games you and her are playing. First it was with each other, which was already fucked up enough as it was, but now she's doing it to all of us, and you're hiding shit like this too — I won't have it."

"I'm trying to get her back to her senses."

"And how's that going for you?"

"I've gotten further with this than you have with hitting her in the face."

"Those are two different things. You know how things work here. If I thought she was beyond saving, I would've put a bullet between her eyes."

"And that's your decision to make?"

"I'm in charge, so yes, it is. Which you're very well aware of and have never protested against before." His superior barks back at him, a rare occasion of the man slightly raising his voice.

"She got punished for the betrayal. Fine. But if any of you dares to touch her like that ever again, don't expect me to show mercy."

"You've got a lot of nerve defending her here."

"I'm not defending her, goddamnit—" Leon hisses through his teeth, "I'm sticking up for her because even though she's going off the rails, she would do the same for me. And I know, deep down, that you understand that."

"And why's that?"

He scoffs with a curt chuckle, raising his hand to point at the dark-haired woman in the room, all without looking away. "Because you would do the exact same for her."

Yoko is shocked to even be mentioned in the conversation, let alone like this. She didn't think she and Lloyd were this obvious, considering their relationship is technically still supposed to be a secret.

Lloyd's lips press together into a firm line as he calms himself down. "Look. What happened, happened. We'll leave her alone here so we can get to the location of the coordinates, get her that antidote, kill Simmons and wrap this whole thing up. Then we'll worry about what's next for her."

Sighing from frustration and irritation, Leon puts his hands on his hips, his eyes shifting to the screen of the monitor that's broadcasting the inside of the cell.

"Fine. But we better prepare for a long day. I know Simmons isn't just gonna be sitting around in what looks like the goddamn jungle without people to protect him."

So their boss nods in agreement. "Gear up. Meet up at the tarmac in an hour."

Leon leaves before the three of them can say anything else to him, but not without glancing at your figure on the screen for one last time.

He has to get his hands on that antidote, fast. Before your time runs out. Even if it's the last thing he does.

With a glare that could kill, he arrives at the men's locker room of the east wing of the facility. He thanks the universe once he notices the room is empty.

That is, until the door opens right after he's closed it.

"Leon—"

"Get out."

"I just—"

"I'm serious. Leave."

"We need to talk!"

"About what, Yoko!?" He slams his locker shut, uncharacteristically raising his voice. "What do you wanna discuss, huh? I know my relationship with her is as toxic as it can get, I know she's completely lost her mind, I know all that. I don't need someone bitching to me about it again."

He completely disregards her presence and continues removing his jacket, vest and dress shirt, his chest bare now. Yoko purses her lips, annoyed with his attitude. "That's not what I wanted to talk about."

"Well, lucky me." Leon sarcastically retorts, grabbing the tight, dark blue thermal shirt from his bag, pulling it over his head, the fabric hugging his chest and arms.

Yoko then grabs his wrist. "I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For stepping in when I shouldn't have. I got mad at her and I should've handled it differently."

He thinks about her words and shakes his head, sitting down on the bench. "No, it wasn't your fault."

"You okay, Leon?" She asks, touching his shoulder to give him a comforting squeeze.

A scoff escapes him. "No. No, I'm not. But I don't have the energy to talk about it right now, I'm sorry."

The dark-haired woman nods, letting it go for now to respect his boundaries. "I'll talk to Lloyd. We'll get that antidote, Leon. We're going all in."

He nods at her, muttering a quiet thank you before she leaves and he does whatever necessary to pull himself together.

More than an hour later, the four of them find themselves on a plane, catching a ride from a pilot who owed him a favor. The thing is that they were supposed to be well on their way at this point, yet they're still stuck on the tarmac for some unbeknownst reason.

"Anybody care to tell me why the hell we haven't taken off yet?"

It's safe to say that today isn't a good day for Lloyd. Everything has been irritating him, nothing seems to be going right, and he's getting real frustrated about it.

Leon huffs. "I'll go and check with the pilot." His eyes and expression are dark with annoyance when he moves away from them.

The whole crew is on edge after what happened with you, but it all became heightened the moment you cut him with that knife.

You regret it — it happened in a fit of anger. It was never your intention to hurt him in any way whatsoever, but it happened. It keeps happening. You can only blame yourself.

More than an hour after the incident, you're splayed on the floor of the cell like a damn starfish, feeling so numb that you might as well accept that you're dying within several business days.

Would've been nice to have some alcohol to numb the pain, though.

Ah, well. Maybe you don't deserve to numb the pain.

A sudden noise pulls you out of your train of thoughts. You frown and sit up, trying to see where it came from.

"What the hell?" You mumble, getting up to see if your eyes are betraying you.

The door to your cell is ajar. You use a single finger to push it further open, an impressed look on your face when it does.

This is weird. Very weird.

Once you realize this is probably your only shot of getting out of here, your fingers wrap onto the doorpost as you peek across the corner to see how many people are monitoring your cell.

Only to find no one.

You're convinced it has to be a comical sight for whoever orchestrated this, because you're quite literally walking around with this surprised-ass face, having quite literally no idea what's going on, but you'll take it.

Once you make it into the hall, because every fucking door you need to go through is just unlocked for some reason, you discover you are inside the same CIA facility in Langley you normally work at.

Honestly, you shouldn't be surprised they have hidden cells like these.

Once you finally find a window, you find yourself overlooking the grand backyard of the headquarters, which contains the training fields and the tarmac.

There's a plane planning to leave, but it's not taking off yet. Once you suddenly notice your boss walking out of said plane to talk to someone on the ground, you put two and two together.

So that's what they're doing. Of course they are.

This is your last shot of getting what you've worked so hard for. You have to get your ass on that plane and fast.

Leon takes a while to get back to the rest, but he brings the good news that the problem has been resolved and they're ready for take-off.

The flight takes several hours. The plane is practically built like a private jet, so they're spread across the plane in separate seats by the windows, most of them catching some sleep. Not Leon, though. He can't sleep on planes for some reason.

He looks out the window, noticing the dark clouds and heavy rain when the pilot's voice cracks through the speaker.

"Attention — fifteen minutes until landing. I repeat, fifteen minutes until landing."

God, he hopes his friends won't notice how nervous he is. His hands tremble a bit, heartbeat going faster than usual, eyes fluttering when he fails to avoid thinking of you. How bad must your state be right now?

Don't think about it. Don't think about it.

It's then that the plane suddenly starts shaking. The heavy turbulence causes Neal and Lloyd to snap awake from their sleep.

"Are we there yet?" Neal groggily asks, barely even awake.

Then the aircraft shakes so much that their heads nearly hit the ceiling, which has them all holding on to their seats for dear life. That sure as shit wasn't just turbulence.

Leon quickly gets to the cockpit to talk to the pilot. "What the hell was that!?"

"We're taking fire from the ground. Heavy fire!"

The pilot tries to pull up once the aircraft goes down and the red emergency alarm beeps, but to no avail.

Nearly every single window is shot at and broken in the process. Missiles keep hitting the plane, and it won't take long for it to get destroyed to pieces at this rate.

"Goddamn it. Get ready to jump!" Lloyd yells from behind him, reaching for the parachutes, but mere seconds later, the pilot yells out again.

"RPG!"

The shot is fatal for the plane, considering the amount of damage it has taken already. The pilot's screams of pain and fear ring through Leon's ears.

The events go by like a blur. He vaguely recalls seeing fire, blood, attempting to grab a parachute but failing. Then, for better or worse, he falls out, his body collides with a hard surface, and he loses consciousness, unable to do anything about the danger lurking nearby.

Notes:

aaand just like that our favs are thrown into another night of survival. i'm not sure if i still have many active readers here but i hope the wait was worth it again ! this will probably be the last chapter out before the release of the re4 remake which i'm very excited for :D anyways thank u all for reading and commenting and all that jazz, have a nice day 3

Chapter 35: Act II - 13. Crazy Minds Alike

Summary:

Leon wakes up hours later in the middle of the jungle, coming across both familiar and unfamiliar faces.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Everything hurts.

It feels as if his back was split in half and a brick fell on his head. He can't remember the last time he physically got hurt like this.

His vision is blurry at first. He blinks several times and notices the scratches on his arms, his shirt cut open in some places, and suddenly he's slowly coming to the conclusion that his legs are dangling mid air because he's hanging from a fucking tree.

Blinking a few times again, he looks down to find he's hunched over several thick branches. Christ, he has no idea how he survived a fall like that, or how he landed down here.

"Gotta get out of this fuckin' tree." He mutters to himself, allowing himself to move from the branches to the trunk. He mentally thanks himself for at least wearing proper shoes and gloves for activities like this.

With a thud, he drops onto the ground, suddenly becoming aware of the heat. A light bead of sweat coats hits face, even though it's presumably sometime in the middle of the night, given how dark it is.

He must've been out for hours. The watch around his wrist is gone, so he can't exactly tell the time.

Okay. Focus.

Being fully awake now, he rubs his eyes to get his brain to work with him here. He checks his pockets and finds — well, nothing, except for a few painkillers, which he gulps eagerly.

Most of the gear was stored together in the luggage compartment of the plane, which, interestingly enough, is nowhere to be found. He wouldn't be surprised if it blew up into several pieces, so there's got to be more parts of the wreckage nearby.

He worries about the rest of the crew, wondering whether they're on their own too, and if they even survived the crash to begin with.

No, he shouldn't think like that.

Remembering he has an earpiece in, he taps it a few times to check if it still works. "Hello? Anyone? Can someone hear me?"

But naturally, he gets no response, save for the cracking noise that sounds like a distorted tv. He can't help but huff to himself.

Great. So he finds himself stranded in the middle of the jungle, his only weapon a combat knife and not a single damn clue where the hell the rest of his crew is.

All he can do at this point is go look for the parts of the wreckage.

He gets up from the ground on shaky legs and forces himself to get going. There's no time to wait around until something or someone might show up.

It's so dark here, he keeps thinking as he makes his way through the muddy ground underneath his feet. The night is warm and gritty, yet surprisingly enough, he barely feels the sweat running down his neck and back.

With how thick the forest is, it's difficult to see what you're walking towards, especially in the middle of the night. He then remembers he had a flashlight on the back of his belt when he was on the plane, so he reaches back, ecstatic to find it's still there. It flickers a little when he turns it on, but it'll have to do.

It's not much, but it's something.

Knife in one hand, flashlight in the other, he continues.

His objective is to get to a higher point. He should be able to see something from there. There were a bunch of flares in the plane — he hopes a member of the crew will use it.

If they're even alive in the first place.

God, he's mentally begging for the painkillers to set in faster. His head is fucking pounding. Not to mention that he's got some serious cuts on his arms that need to be cleaned and sewed up.

The moment he sees Simmons, he's gonna rip that fucker in half.

He's been walking for a while when he suddenly hears an engine revving in the distance. Sounds like a big truck built for this kind of environment.

Once he notices the truck has awfully bright lights, he immediately gets down, the ferns serving as his cover. Pushing some of the leaves aside, he notices three men getting out of the vehicle, all very heavily armed with AK's, yet they're dressed like a bunch of cheap goons, and based on their stances as well, Leon quickly realizes something.

These guys aren't professionals.

There's no way these men protect Simmons. No, he undoubtedly did hire professionals for that, but they're not here, so that probably means he's not even remotely close to wherever the guy is hiding out.

Leon would very much like to have one of their guns. And a radio. And whatever else they have on them.

So naturally he's gonna take it.

Once he's moving forward on his elbows, tracking through the mud underneath the ferns, the men start talking to each other.

"What the fuck does he want us to do? There's no way these guys survived a crash like that. Look at what it did to the guy we found."

His heart drops. Who did they find?

"He is the person who pays us. He tells us to check the perimeter, we check the perimeter. We'll be out of this place in no-time." The second man says.

Perimeter for what? It's a fucking jungle, he thinks to himself. Is he missing something?

The men spread out in the vegetation, using flashlights to see if there's any bodies — dead or alive, no doubt.

Fuck. He needs to move faster. As long as he stays out of the light, he should be fine.

The guy who was complaining is getting closer, but his back is facing him now. That's his sign to sneak up and attack. His steps are calculated, slow at first, then quick when he goes in for the kill. He comes up from behind the man, grabs him by covering his mouth with one hand and quickly shoving the knife between their ribs several times, twisting the knife, all while making sure the other men don't notice a thing.

It's probably a hilarious sight from another angle, just two soldiers checking the bushes while their buddy is getting ripped apart in the background.

The second kill is a little more tricky, because the remaining two are closer to each other, but he manages.

Leon smiles to himself in satisfaction when the three men are dead on the ground, his lips parted as he feels how heavy his breath suddenly gets from the adrenaline rushing through him.

Well, that was fun.

He's got a surprising amount of rage to unleash, he feels. As unfortunate as the whole having-to-survive ordeal is, if he can get this messy for once without having to clean it all up, he'll take it.

The knife is wiped clean on his pants before he puts it back in its holster. Kneeling by one of the bodies, he decides to check whether these guys were carrying anything worth taking.

He takes a regular pistol — unfortunately not with a silencer — as well as a rifle, a considerably better flashlight and a radio.

After making sure there's no other guys in the vehicle, he opens up the trunk, smirking to himself. Jackpot.

Rope, a tactical vest, a bottle of water he immediately downs and some extra bullets.

That should keep him alive for a while. He closes the trunk and decides to continue on foot, considering there's no actual road here and it would draw too much unwanted attention.

He chooses to follow the tracks that the truck left behind. One way of tracing Simmons is to find out where these guys came from.

The moonlight shines through the thick vegetation. In his current situation, it feels like all of his senses are heightened — he takes in every sound running through his ears, gaze sharp and detecting every motion around him, fingers clamping around the handle of his knife.

Several minutes later, he spots a waterfall. That's good.

Running water is always better than stagnant water, no matter what you're gonna use it for. He won't drink it, but he decides to throw the tactical vest off for a moment and stand under it with his remaining clothes. He's gotta clean his wounds somehow. It's not like he has any medical supplies with him.

A voice then cracks through the earpiece, so he moves away from the water. "Alpha Team, did you secure that perimeter yet? What's taking so long?"

He considers answering, but decides against it. If they were to recognize his voice, it'd be swarming with goons in no-time, probably. So radio silence is what he's gonna go with for now.

Once he's geared up again, he knows it's not gonna be long before reinforcements will arrive, and once they find the bodies, it's gonna be much harder trying to find his way around.

So he sticks to the bushes for now.

With no vantage point in sight, does spot an awfully bright light in the distance, as well as the sound of an engine running in the background, but no movement.

He's looking over what appears to be some sort of dig site, which has him frowning, because why the hell are they doing that here?

There's several yellow helmets for construction workers, a crane, a bunch of crates, several bottles that are unfortunately empty, and most importantly, more guys with guns.

Well, he should probably take care of this quickly.

He quietly takes a few steps, sitting on one knee as he covers his arms and clothes in mud from the puddle on the ground. Before one of the men can even turn around, he's already moved into the bushes again.

They're spread out way too thin to deal with trained hostiles, that's for sure. This is practically child's play.

"God, I can't wait to get out of this fucking place."

"We're not going anywhere until all parts of that plane wreck are found."

"Oh, come on. They were shot down. No way any of 'em survived that."

"Apparently they're some top agents of the government. Black-ops and all that."

"Doesn't matter when they're outgunned and outnumbered."

Leon clenches his jaw as he listens to the conversation, about to strike. He pulls the first target into the bushes, then the second, all unsuspecting. He's slipping right through them.

Then one of the men notices the disappearance of the other men, coming his way, and he gets the rifle out just in case.

With bated breath, he waits for the guy to pass him, proceeding to choke him using the firearm, gathering enough strength to break his neck. It's an oddly satisfying sound.

Two remaining. They're standing side by side, talking. Guns on their backs. Nothing better than unsuspecting victims in a situation like this.

He sneaks up from behind, knocking the first one out by hitting him on the back of the head with the gun and immediately moving to shove his knife into the neck of the other.

Splatters of blood hit his face, even though he manages to dodge most of it. God, it's a nasty sight, even if it fuels his bloodlust.

After doing the same to the unconscious one, he checks the area to see if there's anything interesting lying around.

The first real smile in who knows how long creeps onto his face when he finds a hip flask.

Filled with whiskey.

Cheap whiskey, but anything tastes like it comes from an expensive bottle right now.

He decides to take the flask with him, putting it inside his jacket. Looks like there's nothing here he can make useful. He'll just have to keep going.

That is until he suddenly hears a voice in the distance, at the other side of the fence, one that's also going through his earpiece.

"I'll check on Kappa Team, let you know if I see anything weird."

Fuck — he just killed that whole team. He's just gonna have to improvise.

The soldier notices something is very, very wrong when he notices the dead men spread around the mud and green bushes, moving to reach for his earpiece, until a barrel touches the back of his head.

"Touch that radio and I'll blow your brains out." Leon speaks up from behind him, ripping it out of the guy's ear before he can do anything. "Hands up."

"You'll never get out of this place alive." The soldier says while slowly doing as commanded.

But Leon ignores his words completely. "Did you find the parts of the plane wreck yet?"

"Just one."

"Any survivors?"

"We found a dead guy."

"What's he look like?"

"I don't know, I wasn't there."

Bad move. He has no patience to test right now. Leon kicks him in the back of the knee so hard that the soldier drops to the ground, face first into the mud, crying in pain.

"I don't like to repeat myself."

"Motherf—he had—fuck—dark hair. Burn marks all over his body. Was wearing some green jacket."

A chuckle of relief escapes him. Lloyd and Neal are both blondes. Then the body they found must be the man who was flying the plane.

"No one else was found?"

"No, no, I swear!"

"Good. How many of you are there?"

"A lot, I don't know — please, I told you everything I got." He pleads with his hands up, unaware that he's already signed his own death sentence.

Leon wordlessly raises the guy's head from behind by grabbing his hair, his knife getting bloody once more as another soldier meets their end by his sharp blade.

Shit. He's just noticing something.

The sun is starting to rise.

That probably means more patrols soon. There's no way it's just thirty men here, there's got to be more. Simmons wouldn't take risks.

He needs to move quicker. There's no time to be wasted. Get the antidote and get out — that's the mission.

Suddenly, he spots something in the ground. He removes a few of the branches around it and finds that this is the entrance to some sort of tunnel.

"Ah, shit. What the hell." He groans to himself and jumps down, eager to see where it leads.

Whatever he expected, it wasn't this.

Walking down the tunnel, he passes several dead bodies, ones that look just like the soldiers he just killed, except the kills were definitely more bloody. They haven't been dead for long. Did someone beat him to it? Maybe one of the crew got here just before he did, slipping right past the guys at the dig site above ground.

Weird. Really weird.

As he walks down the path, his radio makes noise again. "All units, be advised — there are hostiles in the area. Two of them were spotted by the cliffs at the seaside, they're killing our men. Every person trespassing is a target. You all have green light to execute on sight."

Two hostiles? Cliffs? He hasn't even heard the waves of the sea hitting the rocks, considering he's so deep into the forest.

Fuck, he has to get a hold on some kind of map, or get to a vantage point. He has no idea where he's going.

As he gets deeper into the tunnel, it gets darker and darker, so he takes his flashlight and holds it up in front of him.

Despite being as intelligent and strong as he is, Leon isn't invincible.

A single soldier spots him, suddenly emerging from the dark corner he was about to pass, nearly hitting him on his head. He's lucky to have the fast reflexes that he does.

Leon's back collides with the wall and he finds himself using his knife to turn the soldier's gun away from his face, aiming up to the ceiling instead.

His vision is blocked when a sudden noise makes him squeeze his eyes shut.

So much blood hits his face. It's warm and thick and red. He wipes some of it away as he opens his eyes again, only to find the soldier dead on the floor and his saving grace standing in front of him.

Utterly bewildered, he hardly recognizes his own voice. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Now that you've saved your husband from potential death, you shift your rage onto him, because you still have unfinished business. You hit his cheek with a flat palm.

"You left me in there!" You hiss at him. "You locked me up in a fucking cell just like he did."

But your words are muffled in the background when he realizes you're here. With him. Alive and... somewhat well.

He doesn't know what to do or say right now. He wants to say how worried he was, how glad he is you're still alive, how much he's missed you — and yet the only thing that comes out of his mouth is—

"Not sure red is your color, Doll."

He's referring to the fact that you're close to being drenched in the blood of your enemies, several cuts and bruises in pretty much every visible spot of skin. Your hair is tied back in two braids, which you must've done while on the plane for the sake of practicality, with a few loose strands at the front.

Something switches in your head. Like your brain suddenly recognizes him as the man you love more than anything rather than a hostile. He survived the plane crash, thankfully, and appears to be fine too.

"You...you're okay?" You ask hesitantly, pointing at him oddly, as if you want to touch him but are too afraid to actually do it.

It's strange. You're both aching, fucking yearning to wrap your hands around each other, but you don't. Too much has happened between you.

Or so you think. Leon for that matter — he doesn't care anymore. Not in this moment. He can go back to worrying about the things you've done later.

You freeze in your spot when he actually hugs you. Something inside your body is holding you back from moving, so you can only stare into the distance behind him with wide eyes, holding your breath when he finally releases you to cup your bloody cheeks, failing to hide his true feelings.

"I'm glad you're still alive."

"Y—yeah." You stumble from the sudden intimacy, forcing yourself to tear your gaze away from his. "I'm getting weaker though. Won't be long now. A day or two, probably."

His wife is dying. His favorite girl is dying. God, he wants to claw his fucking eyes out.

"How'd you even get here?"

Shrugging your shoulders, you snort, trying to return to your colder persona. "Someone opened my cell. I hopped on the plane before it took off, we crashed, now we're here."

"How is that even possible—"

"Shit! Get down." You suddenly say, pulling him down to hide behind a large crate.

He frowns, carefully looking up to check what made you hide like this. A group of heavily armed men stands around before they spread out, each of them at a different place. They're still pretty far, so you can talk to Leon without them hearing you.

"Who the hell are these guys?" Leon judges, and you let out a sigh.

"They're mercenaries. Most of them, anyway. This is the third time I've come across them. And they're with way too many — I'd say they're some sort of private army hired by Simmons."

He finds it strange that you seem to be doing completely fine, despite being clearly injured, but then again, so is he. Must be the adrenaline. "How many have you come across so far?"

"About forty, give or take."

"How many have you killed?"

"... about forty. Give or take." When he raises his brow at your mocking tone, you feel the need to add some information. "They weren't exactly friendly. Don't look at me like that."

"I'm not judging."

"You totally were."

"Sweetheart, you're not the only one who kills people for a living. I don't judge. Besides, I had to take care of a few of 'em too."

"Well, good," you cock your head, checking the magazine of your silenced pistol, "'cause now you get to kill even more."

"Fun." He mutters quietly with a quick roll of his eyes.

"Actually, hold onto that thought. I'll handle this. Be right back." You tell him before jumping to the next hideout, which has him frowning, ready to follow you, but you shake your head at him.

The way you take them out is quick, with swift movements and a bit more blood than necessary. He notices the way your lips curl up just a little when you choke one of the guys who tried to shoot you, and Leon chuckles at the sight.

"That's my little sadist." He mumbles under his breath, biting his lip when he recognizes some moves you clearly got from him.

Once you've cleared the way and gotten rid of them all, he gets up to check whether any of them carried anything worth taking again. It's one way to survive.

As you check the pockets of a soldier with heavy armor, Leon walks up from behind you, frowning when he notices the burn marks on the back of your neck. The crash happened hours ago — you should be healed up at this point.

"Why aren't you healing?"

"The virus." You say without looking up at him. "My body is rejecting the healing process. My strength is gradually declining too. Won't take long before I have less strength than the average person — I predict it'll be half a day."

If anything, he admires you for your mental strength. No one would guess you were this close to death if it wasn't a known fact.

He wants to attempt comforting you when the radio makes noise in his ear again. "Two hostiles escaped Beta team. They went past the storage. Don't let them get away, goddamnit!"

You were smart enough to also nick a radio yourself, so you look up at Leon, getting up from the ground. "That's not us. Who do you think it is?"

"I don't know. Apparently they found the body of the pilot. There's a good chance we all made it out of the crash alive. We're with two, they're with two, so the question is, who and where's number five?"

"... that's two questions."

He just glares at you. You can't help the tiny bit of laughter escaping your mouth, the sweet sound making his heart jump for a moment.

Biting your lip, your eyes move rapidly as you think, getting back to business. "We should get to a vantage point. Get the layout of this place somehow."

"Thing is — we just crossed the perimeter. It's a whole area. We don't have any climbing gear either, so that's not helping."

"Maybe we can find some climbing axes somewhere. At least we've already got rope."

"Good point." He says, stretching his arm out for you. You decide to take him up for it, your palm touching his as he helps you up on your feet.

Both of you look around the tunnel, trying to figure out where to go now. "Where do we go from here?"

He can't answer, because there's suddenly a group of more armed men coming your way, so he pulls you into the dark corner you previously emerged from, firmly pressing your back against his chest. Your fingers grip onto his forearm that's placed just beneath your neck.

The soldiers don't seem to notice either of you or the dead body as they move to a different tunnel.

His steady but slight heavy breathing is the only thing you can focus on. You don't want to let go of his arm. You don't want him to let go of you.

No. Don't get sentimental now.

"Thanks." You barely manage without stuttering, not even looking at him yet.

He hesitantly lets go of you, but makes a bold move by loosely intertwining his fingers with yours. "It's not over yet. Thank me when we're safe. C'mon."

Walking out front, he chooses to navigate based solely on his gut feeling. You both easily stick to the shadows when hearing soldiers passing by, trying to avoid them in order to get above ground safely without getting seen.

After what feels like mere minutes, you finally see small rays of light at the end of the tunnel.

Leon climbs up the ladder and moves whatever is blocking the exit out of the way as quietly as possible. It turns out to be some kind of wooden pallet, probably placed there to hide the entrance.

"Looks safe. Let's go."

Once you've followed his lead, he pushes the pallet back in its original place. He's not sure how long he spent down there, but it was long enough for the sun to rise, so it's completely bright outside now.

There's a path in front of you, so you start walking, and it's completely quiet for what feels like an eternity.

You're both tense. He wants to say something, anything, but he wouldn't know where to start.

But, of course, you're more than willing to start the conversation for him. "You know, none of this would've happened if you just left me to do what I needed to do."

"Sure, Sweetheart. Whatever makes you sleep at night."

Laughing at him, you purse your lips. "You do realize you have no say in what I do now that I managed to get here, right? I'm sticking to my own plan."

"Right. And you'll kill me if I get in your way."

"I never said that."

"You're telling me you wouldn't?"

"For such a smart man, you can be incredibly stupid." You chuckle at him, shaking your head. "I can't kill you, Leon."

"Why? Is there something I don't know about?"

You stop dead in your tracks and face him, shrugging your shoulders as you watch him with clear disbelief. "I may be a bad person, a monster, whatever you wanna call me, but I'm not heartless. I'm sure it might come as a surprise but I am capable of loving someone, you asshole."

He remains quiet, looking at you with a certain emotion you can't quite describe. Eager to know whether he's actually as much in the palm of your hand as you think, you take a step closer to him.

"It's the one reason we haven't killed each other yet. I threatened your sister, your best friends, and you, well... you've been standing in my way from the day we reunited. In any other case, you would've killed me and I would've killed you."

It's true. He's never let anyone go that far. If someone else were to do something like that to his loved ones, he would've slit their throats before they could draw their next breath.

But not you. Never you.

And that eats away at him like nothing else. He feels weak and helpless because of it, and he's sick of it. He doesn't want to live like this anymore.

There's still time to get you on the other side of the fight, to convince you that there is a different way out.

Ever so subtly getting closer to him, you reach out to touch the skin below the fresh cut on his cheek. Your eyes soften just for a moment, gaze shifting to something that's all warmth and comfort.

Pressing a kiss to his other cheek, nearly touching the corner of his lips, you almost have him blushing.

It takes him back to that moment he did the same to you in Raccoon City. Even in the darkness of the sewers, he remembers how the heat rushed to your face, how you were almost completely disoriented, and most importantly, how disappointed you looked when he didn't kiss you on the lips.

Which is the exact same look he has on his face right now.

And you — you see it too. And you think it's the best thing you've ever seen.

Fuck. He watches as you raise your shoulder provocatively and turn around, continuing to walk out in front of him. His eyes naturally travel down to your curves.

Yeah, he's alive. Still whipped for his wife, too, it seems. Even in a situation like this.

You're toying with his attraction to you and he would like it if you were on good terms right now, which you most certainly aren't. So instead of having a mature conversation like you should be, he intends to switch the roles.

"You're so fucking selfish, you know that?" You suddenly hear him say behind you. The smug smile is wiped off your face when he grabs your wrist and puts you back right where you were.

It takes a second for you to go back to your flirtatious side. "Am I?"

"Yeah."

"Then be a little selfish too. C'mon, Leon. Just take what you want for once."

Leon scoffs. Something of hope and curiosity flickers in your eyes.

His hand moves to the back of your neck when he pulls your body against his. There's a deep frown on his face when he looks down at you, as if he's angry at you — when in reality it's his head trying to fight his heart.

And you can see it happening, at which you beam. Your gaze only spurs him on.

He's supposed to leave you wanting him and not actually give in, damnit. His body has other plans though — because he's leaning forward to kiss you, and you don't even have it in you to deny him.

It all feels so good, his craving for you only getting bigger like floodgates opening up.

The kiss is more aggressive than he planned. You grab the back of his neck to pull him down to you just a bit more, fingers then running down his toned back, sending shivers down his spine.

How the hell did he survive without that feeling for so long?

Yet something feels wrong when you cling to him like you need him to breathe — in all honesty, it's not far from the truth — and it takes him every ounce of willpower in his body, visibly upset.

"We could've had this, y'know." He says, slightly out of breath. "We had this. You threw it all away like it meant nothing."

His words hit you harder than you thought they would. You feel yourself getting more vulnerable under his gaze, and you feel so fucking bad for getting him hurt. You never wanted that to happen.

"What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry?" You rhetorically ask before your expression hardens again. "I'm gonna make this clear. I am not sorry for the things I've done. I want what I want and I will get it, even if it's the last thing I do. But I am...I am sorry for hurting you and betraying you guys the way I did. I'm not proud of that."

"Is this your apology? Because if it is, it doesn't feel very sincere."

"It's all you're getting. I'm not all that keen on being nice to you either, seeing how you drugged me and locked me up, twice."

"Oh, please."

"You know, I'm just curious what you're planning on doing about it. There's no place to put me away here, I'm already dying, so you either gotta work with me or kill me. Law of the jungle and all that."

"I'm not gonna kill you."

"No, you like me too much." You giggle at him, a bubbly, vibrant sound that tugs at his heartstrings.

You've noticed he's slowly backing you up against the stone structure behind you, the tension getting more and more palpable, and he sucks on the inside of his cheek for a moment before delivering another sarcastic response. "That's debatable."

It's clear what your dynamic is. You both still have strong feelings for one another, but you're still on opposite sides — enemies working together.

And occasionally kissing.

Maybe it's the heat, exhaustion, whatever. Neither of you know or care.

"Sweetheart, we gotta keep moving. Time's running out." He sighs, and you nod, huffing out of frustration.

It's like you don't even give a shit that you might drop like a fly within two days.

Looking up at the sky, you bite your lip and try to think of a solution to quicken the process of finding a proper vantage point.

Everything here looks the same. It's a gorgeous sight, you'll give it that much — the many shades of green, fresh air, blue sky, clear water running in waterfalls or small streams.

As you and Leon keep moving forward, the forest gets thicker and thicker. The path grows smaller when you hear someone talking in the distance.

Telling Leon to remain quiet, you gently take his wrist to guide him to a safe spot, trying to tell where it's coming from all while taking careful and silent steps forward.

You both then move down, stomach on the ground, hiding behind a thick tree branch. The area in front of you is very open, not a lot of vegetation, a massive contrast compared to the spots you've seen so far.

Some sort of warehouse is in the middle, clearly guarded by more men with guns, and you voice your thoughts to your husband without looking away from the sight in front of you.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" You ask him, and he hums in response.

"Storage."

"I'm betting they got some really good stuff in there. Climbing equipment too."

"Look at those patrols. We're both injured and you're not exactly at peak strength right now either."

"Yeah, but that's not a problem if they're spread out a little more thin."

"So you're saying you wanna go for a distraction?"

"Mhm."

"Fuck." He bites his lip. "They said two hostiles passed through here earlier. Does that mean they raided the place already?"

You huff. "If they're two of ours, probably. Otherwise they wouldn't have been spotted."

The light of your stolen radio goes grom green to red — a sign someone's talking at the other end. "All units, this is Commander Ross. One hostile has been captured. There's more of them active in the area. They slipped through the men at the dig site and the perimeter with a bunch of damn knives, so unless you want to end up dead before collecting your paycheck, find them!"

Shit. That means they're probably right on your tail if they found the bodies at the dig site. Their next stop will probably either be the tunnels or your current location, which means you two need to get a move on.

It's quiet for a second as you purse your lips. "Okay. Forget I said anything. We are not doing shit here."

"Couldn't agree more."

"Well shit, what are we gonna do now? We still don't know where the hell we're going."

Leon tilts his head. "They have a clear layout of the place. They've gotta have a map somewhere."

"And where should we find one of those, genius?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, if you have a better idea I'm all ears."

And while you both bicker in hushed tones, gaze fixed on the soldiers in the distance, the incoming danger from the one side you're not watching is the last thing you're focused on right now — as neither of you notice the approaching footsteps coming from behind.

Notes:

hello hi ! resi 4 remake is out guys. good god does leon look fine in that game. i haven't played it bc it's too expensive for me rn but from what i've seen it looks great ! (that chain scene with luis is the best cutscene of the whole game. i don't make the rules.)

anyways back to the chapter :) i'm not the best at descriptive stuff when it comes to environments or combat but i tried. a lot of things are still gonna happen so stay tuned for the next few updates ! thank you all for the sweet comments, i read them all with a smile on my face 3

Chapter 36: Act II - 14. Team Emotional Instability

Summary:

A new challenge awaits you and Leon as you still find yourselves in the middle of the Peruvian jungle.

Notes:

no warnings. chapter consists of mostly dialogue and one or two small, poorly written action sequences.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"Maybe, instead of trying to search for some map, we take one of those fuckers hostage and threaten to kill him until he draws one for us. Then still kill him. Easy."

"Except they already know we killed a few dozens of their men. They'll probably have us walking right into a trap."

"God, you're so pessimistic."

"I'm—"

"Leon S. Kennedy, if you so much as whisper the word realistic right now, I will actually straight-up murder you behind this tree branch."

Leon is caught up in the conversation with you until he notices the creaking sound of footsteps behind the two of you. He rolls onto his back with his pistol raised at whoever is sneaking up on him, but then lets out a heavy sigh once he sees who it is. "Jesus Christ. Don't ever sneak up on me like that again."

"Fucking hell, Leon." Yoko exhales with a smile, lowering her gun. He gets up and immediately gets suffocated in a hug by the woman once in cover behind some tall plants. "I'm so glad you're still alive."

And she isn't alone, Leon notices, because someone else is hugging him from the other side.

"Thank God. She is so impulsive, Kennedy, she won't listen to me. We didn't even come up with a plan yet and she was already tearing through those sniveling losers like a goddamn ninja turtle."

"Good to see you too, Neal." Leon chuckles.

You're awkwardly standing in the shadows when they embrace him, not exactly expecting the same warm welcome your husband received. The two turn to look at you with genuine confusion.

"How did you get here?"

"Plane." Is all you say, as if that gives them enough information.

Yoko still looks as puzzled as ever, but she walks over to you and actually wraps her arms around you. Acting the same way you did back when Leon hugged you before, you don't reciprocate it, instead bending your arms inwards as if you're being touched by someone you strongly dislike.

Which isn't true. You do like her, truly. You're just not used to this kind of affection anymore — it feels weird to you.

You miss it, though.

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad you're alright." She says, the sentiment genuine, and it makes you feel a way you can't describe.

When even Neal comes over to hug you, you begin to feel a little suffocated. "Oh my God, I'm literally a homicidal maniac, why do you people keep hugging me?"

"Because you're still our homicidal maniac. Kind of."

"That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."

The Lieutenant speaks up, clearly anxious as hell. "Guys, we do have one problem. Actually, scratch that, we have two problems, considering we're also stranded in the middle of nowhere, trying to survive these assholes walking around. Okay, uh, we have several problems—"

"Yoko." Leon says, pulling her out of her rambling. "Get to the point."

"Lloyd's been captured." She states, running a hand through her long, dark hair. "We — Neal and I saw it happen. I don't know where we gotta go, where we are or where he's being held and I'm freaking out—"

"We'll find him. We can threaten some of those assholes into telling us where he's being held—"

Leon stops talking when he hears you chuckle in the background. The three of them look at you with raised brows.

He takes a few steps over to you, slightly pulling you away from the other two, speaking in a hushed tone. "Please do not tell me you've been withholding intel from me. I will go insane, I swear to God."

"Ah, welcome to the club. Sanity's overrated anyways, Sweetheart." You chirp back with a cheeky grin, hands behind your back when you lean forward to him. "But if it makes you feel any better, I didn't withhold anything on purpose. I just didn't think it was worth sharing yet. Besides, we were kinda busy trying to survive and all, and then you kissed me—"

"What do you know?"

Yoko and Neal are now listening to what you're saying. You tilt your head. "Before I shoved a knife into their throats, I heard a bunch of soldiers talking about a cell block west of the storage. Look at where we are now."

"So it should be nearby." Neal realizes, and you nod, waving with your hand.

"Heavily guarded, no doubt, and I'm betting they're just waiting for us to show up."

"Exactly."

"Alright. So we skip the storage and go head into that direction, right?"

"Yeah. We gotta move quick."

As the three of them are starting to head towards the cell block, you remain in your spot. "Well, I guess this is where we part ways, guys. Say hi to Lloyd for me. Not that he'll give a shit."

They turn to face you again, confused, because they don't know what the hell you're talking about. "What—where are you going?"

"Uh, I don't know if you guys have noticed, but I'm literally dying soon unless I get that antidote? So where do you guys think I'm going?"

Leon shakes his head. "No. Don't even think about it."

"Simmons has what I want. He's here, somewhere. I'm gonna go get it now that I'm still alive and kicking."

"We'll take care of it later."

"Later?" You repeat, utterly annoyed. "You want me to postpone getting the one thing that will save me from a terrible death? Simmons is in the area and you want me to hold back from killing the son of a bitch?"

"Yes, Sweetheart, that's what I just said."

So you scoff. "Well, good luck with that. I'm going after him whether you like it or not."

"The hell you are." He tells you off, brows furrowing with the hint of annoyance in his tone. "We're sticking together."

"I can handle it."

"I don't care if you can 'handle it'. You're not going."

It's in moments like these that you can really see the team needs Lloyd, because without him, there's a shift of power. Leon is the one who has it now, as second-in-command, but you're so damn stubborn, and in your mission to find and kill Simmons and get the two viruses, you've lost a part of yourself. You're more than willing to die here if it means killing the bastard off for good, but your partner refuses to let that happen.

Narrowing your eyes, you smile darkly, fed up with his bullshit. "I may be weaker than usual, but I still have more strength than all those guys combined. I'm fucking going."

Leon is incredibly cold and ruthless in the field, usually towards his enemies, but it occasionally goes for those on his side too. Those disobeying him in particular. "If you thought I was asking you, you're mistaken. You're sticking with us. That's an order from your superior. You got that, agent?"

"The fuck did you just say to me?"

As the tension begins to rise, Yoko is a little confused to see the two of you throwing a hissy fit. "What's going on?" She whispers to Neal.

"Mom and Dad are fighting."

"Oh."

Neither you nor Leon pay their interaction any mind, too deep in the argument to do so. "You heard me."

"This isn't an authorized op, Kennedy. Besides, your authority means shit to me. I don't give a fuck who you think you are. This is my fight, not yours!"

"It became our fight collectively when we decided to come here. We're doing this together. Start as a team, end as a team."

"I didn't come here with you. Besides, from what I remember, you've always been a lone wolf."

"Oh my God. Stop bringing up the past."

"Once you stop acting like you have any say over what I do, I will."

Yoko decides to step in. "We're wasting time, and maybe her point is not entirely wrong, we might be smart going after the guy. If we find that antidote, she gets stronger again and can help us break out Lloyd easily—"

But Leon isn't having it, his attitude considerably less cool and temper much shorter than usual. "What the fuck is up with you people questioning my fucking authority? I'm both your superiors."

Oh, he's angry. Really angry. The heat and exhaustion certainly isn't doing you any good.

"Do you even have an actual, solid plan?"

"Of course I do."

But the black-haired woman next to you scolds him, believing she's able to see through him. "Oh my God, you don't even have a plan!"

"Jesus Christ—quit it!"

"Oh for fuck's sake, y'all... it's obvious. We kill Simmons — or at the very least cut off one of his limbs — then get the antidote, then go get the boss." Neal mentions as the rest of the team bickers, and Leon is beyond sick of having everyone suddenly turned against him.

"Alright, listen to me. All of you need to back the fuck off. And you—" he points at Yoko, eyes spitting fire, "you can't do better than me, so don't even try it."

"Oh, that is it!"

"What? It's true and you know it."

"Maybe we should listen to her in this case, if she has a plan, because I'm not backing down like some scared little bitch, Kennedy. That's not us."

Neal's words have his blood boiling, so he bares his teeth. "One more word from you, kid, and I'll reach back there and smack the shit out of you, buddy."

"Oh, come on—"

"Alright! Genuine question, Leon." Yoko speaks up, trying to remain calm and rational here, because the discussion is getting you nowhere. "Why do you think it's better to get Lloyd out first? Seriously."

"Because, Yoko, there's an unknown amount of armed men here and we simply cannot get to Simmons without a proper plan and a layout of the place, and we're stronger with five, since her strength is declining too." He huffs. "That, and the fact that Lloyd is an obsessive savant who magically predicts our missions and, somehow, he is always right."

"That's it? Are you serious!?" You ask him, utterly annoyed.

"You know, that is true." Neal mutters, agreeing with the guy currently in charge, earning a glare from you.

And so you scoff. "God. I thought I was insane, but this shit just tops everything."

"Oh, you are insane, Sweetheart."

"Aw, thanks!" You sarcastically smile at your husband. "Unfortunately I only take medical advice from licensed professionals."

Yoko snaps her fingers, trying to get the team to act just a little bit less unhinged. "Jesus Christ, people, can we focus for just one second? We're all tired and hungry and injured and God knows what else but Lloyd is still held captive, possibly getting tortured as we speak. Or bicker, really."

"Okay. You know what? Fine. We'll go get the fucker out of there first." You give in, knowing that Leon won't bend to your will, Neal will eventually still go with his plan — but most of all, you know that Yoko cares a whole lot about the man in question. Maybe you can rectify your mistakes a little by helping out here.

Besides — the man is a strategic genius. He might be useful to you in the long run. However long the run is gonna be for you, anyways.

God, what a joke.

The four of you begin to make your way to the cell block. Neal is chattering about something you can't make out to Yoko while you and Leon walk at a slight distance behind them.

"We need all the manpower for this, alright? Believe it or not, I'm not the best at everything."

So you roll your eyes. "Leave it to you to be humble."

"Well, people happen to find it very charming."

"Yeah, I'm sure the girls at the office wanted you for that reason."

"Bold of you to assume I've only ever hooked up with women."

Your jaw drops. He smirks a little, finding your surprised expression hilarious.

"Hold on. What? When? Who?"

"Baby, everyone in my class at the police academy was male." He says it as if it clears everything up, but you're just more shocked. He shrugs, continuing. "Then there was also that guy in Spain..."

"Oh my God. Wow."

"Yeah."

"This opens up so many possibilities, Leon."

"What—what kind?"

"The fun kind." You answer with a big grin, raising your brows suggestively, which has him walking off, laughing at you.

"Well, right now, we have other priorities."

"Sure. Don't think I'll forget about this, mister."

"Whatever you say, Sweetheart."

You're playfully nudging his side and he presses a quick kiss on the top of your head.

After a while, the four of you find yourselves laying on your stomachs in the grass, overlooking the cell block down the hill.

One of the men Neal brutally murdered along the way was carrying a sniper rifle with a scope, so that's what you're using as a binocular.

"This is gonna be difficult." Yoko sighs to herself as she uses the scope to check the patrols, the rest of you eagerly waiting for her judgement. "We gotta find out where exactly they're holding him."

"We can't do that without getting closer."

"My point exactly." She retorts, biting her lip in concentration. "These guys are the real deal. Fully armored. Some of them have thermal goggles — oh, I fucking hate those things."

"Crazy suggestion." You speak up, squinting your eyes while focusing on the facility ahead. "You guys stay here, I go in and break him out."

Leon rejects the idea immediately. "Absolutely not."

"Guys. I'm an actual superhuman. Aside from the not-healing part, but that's — let's just forget that. Point is, I need to prove to Lloyd he can trust me. This is the way to do it."

"You're not going on your own."

"Fine. Then we split up. Two stay out here, two go in."

"Neal and Yoko stay out here. I'm going with you."

You're not the slightest bit surprised. Whether it's because he actually wants to be close to you or just doesn't trust you to be alone with the rest of the team — he has no reason to stay here.

"Okay. I should at least get comms, right?"

"No." They all say in unison, which has you scoffing in return.

"Damn. So much for teamwork."

"Keep me posted, yeah?" Leon says to Yoko with a nod before he gets up from the grass, nudging you with his arm. "Let's go."

Huffing, you get up to follow him, your snarky attitude very present. "Yes, sir."

The two of you sneak through the rainforest, only coming across two enemies along the way, which you take down just as quietly as the ones that met the same fate before.

Hiding behind a cargo crate, Leon touches his earpiece, speaking in a hushed tone. "Can you see us, Yoko?"

"Affirmative."

"If you have a status update, now's the time."

"Shit—hold on. Keep your heads down. There's a guy on the roof."

Leon instantly remembers you can't hear what she's saying and pushes your head down a little, partially covering you with his body should anything happen.

"Can you take him out?"

He hears her take a deep breath. It's understandable that she's nervous — Lloyd's life is pretty much on the line. If she misses the shot, you two also might just be done for here.

It's silent for a moment until she exhales proudly, mostly out of relief as well. "Target eliminated. If you take the door on your far right, there's only two soldiers, and it looks like they're occupied with whatever's on the table. Once you get into the facility, you're on your own."

"Thanks." Leon tells her, tapping your upper arm to signal that the coast is clear. "If he's in there, we'll get him out."

"Be careful. Both of you."

Giving you the same information he just received, you agree to go for a quick attack. You take the guy on the left, he takes the one on the right.

It's a little bloody, so you drag the bodies inside the facility, putting the two bodies underneath the stairs. After shoving the piece of paper you found on the table into your pocket, you follow Leon inside.

The building is old, definitely. It looks more like ruins if anything. There's bad lighting, crumbling walls, water leaking through the roof.

The only way is up, because the bottom floor is pretty much empty. Weirdly enough.

Your footsteps are quiet when you walk up the stairs. To be light on your feet is everything in this line of work.

Reaching the first floor, he hears some soldiers talking to each other, their guard down. Three different voices, he can tell — even though you could easily take them, you both know it's better to stay under the radar as much as possible.

But then two of them get ready to walk out of the room, right into your direction, which has your eyes widening. Leon notices it too, quickly pulling you into the hidden corner between a very tall cabinet and the wall.

You're pressed up against him again, able to look him in the eyes this time, and you're unconsciously squeezing his hand out of adrenaline. His heart beats faster — he notices the red veins of the virus are spreading again, and they've reached your neck now.

It makes him swallow the lump in his throat before he chooses to hold onto your other hand like you're holding onto his. It brings him some kind of relief.

Then you two see the soldiers passing you without noticing a thing. Now that their backs are turned to you, you throw your knife at the head of the first one while Leon executes the second.

"Nice throw."

"Why, thank you." You smile at the compliment, giving him a little bow too. It has him rolling his eyes.

The moment is then ruined by the last remaining soldier on this floor. The guy sees Leon and gets ready to take his gun out, but before he's able to do so, you've already grabbed it from him, using it to choke him and break his neck.

Leon is genuinely so goddamn proud, watching you in combat. You're incredibly well-trained. No wonder people always talk about you being a murder machine — that ruthlessness of yours sure is something.

"Where would I be without you?"

"Better off, probably."

"Fair enough." He chuckles, after which you playfully nudge his chest, tilting your head at him. For whatever reason, he feels sentimental — this whole game of survival pulls him right back to that night in Raccoon City, and how you battled your way through everything that came at you, together. "I've missed you as my partner in crime."

You look up at him, and you shrug off the walls you've built around your heart, because you've got nothing to lose here anyways. "Partners in crime, huh, Clyde?"

He actually beams at your response and gives you the biggest smile in God knows how long. "Afraid so, Bonnie."

The two of you have always been a solid duo when it comes to surviving. Your dynamic just... works, and you always back eachother up, no matter what. Neither of you has ever had a partner in the field that surpassed the other, which is saying something.

He interrupts your thoughts. "Next floor?"

"Yeah, let's go."

Right as he puts his foot on the stairs, he gives Yoko a status update. "Moving to second deck. No sign of him yet."

"Copy."

One soldier appears at the top of the staircase, pointing his gun at Leon, but you're faster, the bullet to his head swift and quiet.

So you move up again as if nothing happened.

Unfortunately, parts of the walls are open here, so you have to crouch to remain unseen. Both of you spot one soldier standing by what looks like a cell, and you hear the clanging of chains and catch a glimpse of blond hair — jackpot.

You take the lead, stepping forward to slice the back of the last soldier's legs so he drops onto his knees, then shoving your knife into his throat and twisting it around, blood pouring out as you remove the blade again. The body drops down, and you're breathing heavily, taking a moment to get out of the bloodlust and adrenaline coursing through your body.

Lloyd watches from his cell, hardly showing any surprise you're even here in the first place, narrowing his eyes as if he's curious what you'll do next. The blood on your face has never been more present.

"Well, look at you." You chuckle. "Sucks to be locked up, huh?"

"Don't tell me you've come all this way just to be smug to my face."

You just smirk before Leon joins the two of you, letting out a sigh of relief when he lays eyes on his best friend, who, apparently, is doing perfectly fine.

He groans in frustration when there seems to be nothing to unlock the cell with. "Fuck. Is there no key here?"

"No, one of 'em took it downstairs."

"As if a key is necessary." You mutter monotonously. "Please step away from the bars. Both of you."

Taking a breath, you wrap your fingers around the bars, knuckles growing white and one leg in front of the other as you pull on the metal.

It's coming loose, so you pull just a bit harder, lips firmly pressed onto each other until it finally breaks free.

There is a palpable tension between you and your boss when you move to stand in front of him, having to physically restrain yourself from hitting him square in the jaw like he did to you about two days ago. He watches you put your hands on the chains around his wrists to snap them apart.

"Why are you here?"

The chains drop to the floor with a thud. "I'm certainly not here for you. Don't get it twisted."

Leon pulls you back by your arm, the look on his face a clear warning to back off. You merely put your hands up, toying with him a little.

The two men give each other a quick but tight hug. Even if you and Lloyd are still on bad terms, you're still glad the guy hasn't been killed. He means a lot to the team, to Leon especially.

The way out of the facility is much easier and quicker than the way in. Pretty much all the soldiers were eliminated by you and Leon, except for one guy who nearly shot Lloyd once he spotted the three of you, but your reflexes were much better.

And so you get back to the rest of the team in no-time.

Yoko's brows scrunch up when she sees her lover, moving up from the ground. "Oh my God—"

And Lloyd allows himself to get pulled into the searing kiss she gives him, forgetting about the pain in his body for a moment, his muscles relaxing into it.

Leon's hand snakes around your lower back and waist, a gentle and subtle display of affection that feels strange and familiar at the same time. It makes you look up at him with mixed feelings — guilt, mostly, but so, so much love.

And the gesture seems to have caught the attention of the rest now that you're all reunited.

Your superior is clearly still furious with you for the betrayal, walking over to you to scold you, but your husband steps right in front of you.

"Why the hell are you here?" Lloyd rhetorically asks, because he knows damn well what you're here for. "I knew we were wrong for leaving without drugging you."

"Watch it, Smith." Leon hisses, gaze so sharp that it could kill. "Remember what I said about touching her. I meant it."

Yoko's hand grazes past his arm. "We're stronger as a team, Lloyd."

But he won't have it. "Have you suddenly forgotten that she was ready to tear you apart with that knife? Because I haven't."

Something switches in your brain. With most of the team on your side, you taunt your boss just a bit more. "Try me. Hit me again — see what I do to you. I may be weaker, but I'm still ten times stronger than you, you son of a bitch."

It's so clear that he's fighting every urge not to lunge at you right now.

Neal steps in, attempting to mediate the situation. He sees you getting angry and feels like he needs to do something before it escalates. "Look, we — we can only get you that antidote if we work together. Both of you need to put your differences aside. We can talk about this later, there's more important things at stake here."

You focus on your breathing, closing your eyes for a moment, doing everything you can to let your anger go, at least for now.

Lloyd takes notice of it, but still shakes his head. "You stay here. We go get the antidote."

"You're insane if you think I'm not coming with. This is the sole reason I even jumped on that plane."

"I don't care why you did. It doesn't matter. You can't be trusted, and that's why you're staying here."

To be honest, he has a valid point. You've stabbed betrayed them like no one else, twice, but you don't want to hurt them. You're not going to hurt them. Not anymore.

Being snarky and sarcastic isn't getting you anywhere right now. You have to be the bigger person here and admit that what you did was a shitty thing to do, even though you did it for a — in your opinion, anyway — good reason.

"Look, guys, I fucked up. I know that. I know you all probably hate me right now and you have plenty of reason to, but in this moment, our goals are one and the same. Get the antidote and kill Simmons. So let me help. I know I'm not gonna sit here and do nothing until my body gives out."

Lloyd's hands are on his hips when he bites his lower lip, averting his gaze from everyone for a little while, and then he looks back up at you.

He shakes his head. He doesn't trust you. "No."

"Okay. Reality check — you need me."

"We sure as hell do not. It's still four against one here."

"It's gonna be a massacre, Lloyd!" You tell him as he takes several steps away from you, after which he stops in his tracks. "Hell, it's already a massacre. If you want to be part of the pile of bodies that's gonna be stacking up here — fine. Be my guest. But you know that we share an enemy, so we might as well make the best out of it."

"Two times we've trusted you and two times you've stabbed us in the back. How am I supposed to agree to this?"

"By trusting your gut." You tell him, despite having little faith in convincing him. "You figured me out on that first day, the training grounds. I want power, I want freedom, and I want—"

You force yourself not to look at Leon, but it's enough for Lloyd to fill in the blanks.

So he leans down to you, whispering into your ear. "If you love him, you'll do as I tell you to. Then, and only then, you can come along."

"Fine." You hiss back at him, backing up, a clear sign he's in charge — but you're not happy about it.

"Good. Listen up. You guys bailed me out at the right time. I've got a plan." Lloyd says as he unfolds a piece of paper, spreading it out on the grass. "According to what the soldiers have been saying and what this shows, the area is much, much bigger than we thought."

The piece of paper turns out to be a map.

"Holy shit." Neal mutters, kneeling down to take a better look at said map.

"I'm guessing that we're currently standing in Simmons's own criminal headquarters, of some kind anyway. There's a storage, power plant, airfield, docks, ruins, and most importantly—"

"A big-ass mansion. Right in the middle." Yoko finishes his sentence for him, putting her hands on her hips.

"I'm willing to bet that that's where the fucker is hiding out. Thing is, there's a lot of goons here. If that is indeed his main hideout, it's gonna be swarming there. We're strong, but not invincible, and we definitely don't have the means to take on a small army."

It's a solid theory. You crack your knuckles. "What do you have in mind?"

"We gotta split up. This is what we're gonna do. We want Simmons to be cornered in the mansion, right in the center of the area. To do that, we need to kill the power and make sure he can't escape by plane, chopper, boat, anything. That means we have to shut down three main locations — the power plant, the airfield, and the docks."

"So how do we do that?"

"Explosives. All at the same time to ensure they won't see us coming. There's got to be plenty of C4 in the storages, which should be nearby, according to the map."

"Yeah, we know. We crossed it before getting to you."

Leon fills in the remaining blanks. "Then once we've blown it all to pieces, we force him to remain in his place by closing in on him from every side."

"Exactly."

"Are we all splitting up, then? Just on our own?"

"No. Neal, you and Leon will go for the power plant, since that's your forte. I'll be heading to the docks, so that leaves... the two of you."

You turn to look at Yoko for a moment. She expresses zero emotion, so you're not sure how she feels about it, but you could care less.

"That's gonna be fun." You mutter to yourself, and the man in charge is already glaring at you for it. "I'm just joking. Jesus."

He clenches his jaw and gets closer to you. "Ground rules. You follow her lead. You do as she says. I don't care how many goons you have to murder to take out your anger but you do not, under any circumstance, even think about attacking her like you did in that cell. Am I making myself clear, General?"

The way he's reprimanding you like a child annoys you to the damn bone, but you refuse to let it show. "Is that an order, sir?"

"Ask me that again and we're finished."

Leon interferes. "Just answer the question, Doll."

Your blank stare turns into a sweet yet creepy smile once your eyes lock with those of your boss again. "I got the memo. Don't worry, I'll bring your precious girlfriend back in one piece."

Lloyd then speaks to you in a more hushed tone, his words not meant for the rest of the team. "This is the last chance you get to prove your loyalty to us."

Just after you've opened your mouth to make a snarky comment, you look at your husband behind him as he clearly waits for the two of you to wrap it up. "You can count on me. I won't hurt her."

And you swear you see the smallest glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Good."

As you're all getting ready to split up, you feel a hand on your shoulder, and Leon gives you an earpiece. "Neal wanted you to have his. Just in case."

"Okay." You nod, inserting it, and Leon cups your cheek, kissing you.

He holds onto you with need, mostly because he just doesn't want to be parted from you again, but you're in good hands. "See you soon, yeah?"

"I'll be alright. Promise." You cup his cheek as well, clenching your jaw. "Be careful. And keep us posted."

"Yes, ma'am."

It's hard to let go of him, but you do, and you all leave to go and get the job done, ready to break down the area, brick by brick.

Let's hope the universe will go a little easier on you this time.

Notes:

the universe will, in fact, not go easy on them. :D

enjoy them being a lil happy for now. next chapter will kinda dive into the dynamics of the team and more of leon and reader's character! i suffered a lot from writer's block here so i was just desperate to publish it and get onto the next one.

and i got so many sweet comments on the previous chapter! thank you guys so much for all the love and support and sticking with me for this hella emotional rollercoaster. 3

Chapter 37: Act II - 15. Welcome to the Jungle

Summary:

The five of you split up to execute the plan.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

After successfully stealing some C4 from the storage without being seen, the five of you go your separate ways to blow some shit up.

The map is imprinted in your mind — you had to make sure of that, since Neal and Leon took it with them, and you lost your phone in the plane crash.

But it's fine. You know where to go.

From the point of the storage, you and Yoko are headed to the power plant, located in the east part of the area. Lloyd is going north, to the docks, Leon and Neal west to the airfield, which should be close to the cell block where you previously gathered. You assume that the dig site where you first met up with Leon again was the south part of the area.

As you and Yoko cut through the thick forest, it's rather quiet, save for the chirping birds, your footsteps in the muddy ground and buzzing insects. Lord, you gotta get out of here.

The sniper rifle sits on Yoko's back as she ties her long hair into a simple, loose braid, her bangs clinging to her forehead from sweat.

It's in moments like these that the heat is ever so present. You're guessing it's sometime around noon, and you're both starving. Not to mention the pounding headache you have — it's like you can feel your heartbeat in your fucking forehead.

And the lack of sleep is doing you no good either. That, and the virus working its way through your body, which will definitely begin to reach your brain in several hours if it keeps spreading this fast.

"C'mon. Over here." Yoko says, gently putting her hand your shoulder, but you shrug her off, the physical touch making you uncomfortable. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Let's just keep moving." You interrupt her monotonously, feeling bad for acting this cold, but you're also too overwhelmed by everything right now. The pain in your body is getting worse and worse.

She knows that too, so she just follows you quietly. Things have been tense since the falling out between you and Lloyd a little while ago.

Silence occurs between you and her again. Your mind drifts off to your husband. God, you hate your boss for not pairing you up with him.

Because if your plan goes wrong and you do end up dying right here, at least you'd be able to get to see his face one last time.

God, what if that turns out to be the last time you'll see him?

Before you can drown even further into your thoughts, a loud shot in the distance catches your attention. Birds fly off as a response. It's dreadfully quiet after.

Yet the sound of the shot echoes through your ear. It makes you blink erratically until you squeeze your eyes shut, the noise sounding a lot louder to you than it actually is.

Once you open your eyes again, it's like you're standing in a completely different place. A pitch black room with no walls — infinite darkness.

Then you turn and suddenly look into a mirror that wasn't there before. Was it?

It's your reflection that doesn't mirror your actions. You watch yourself leaning your arm back before reaching to smash the glass with the side of your balled up fist, and the seemingly non-existent walls around you break like glass, shards dropping onto the floor.

A few of the shards cut your arms open. Then when you look down to inspect the wounds, your arms are suddenly tied to a chair, faceless people surrounding you with equipment that you know will make you scream.

No. Snap out of it.

Flickers of the real world interrupt your hallucination like a glitch in a computer program. The many sounds overwhelm you, and your shoulders hang low, your body hunched in fear to make itself smaller.

"Don't hurt me, please—"

They're speaking in a language you don't understand, one you've never heard before. You do everything in your power to rip yourself out of the restraints, the noises getting louder, and a muffled voice you seem to recognize becomes louder and louder—

"Wake up!"

Once you finally manage to snap out of the hallucination, or dream, or whatever it was — you have your combat knife raised in front of you, right in front of Yoko's eye, and she's holding you back by your wrists.

It drops from your hand when you regain control over your muscles. "Oh God, I—I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I swear, I just saw something—"

She can see the regret and frustration in your face and reassures you to stop you from rambling. "It's fine. It's okay."

Your breath hitches uncomfortably in your throat. The aching in your chest, the pain of the cuts and bruises on your body — this is real. "This is reality, right? We're still in Peru. Yeah. We crashed, we met up, rescued Lloyd, now we're here."

"Yeah." Her brow raises, confusion visible in her features as you recall the events that happened. "This is real. Can you remember everything?"

A sarcastic, depressing chuckle escapes your mouth as you almost cry. "Fortunately, amnesia is the one thing I don't suffer from."

She urges you to sit down for a moment, and you do, using a little trick that Leon taught you to steady your breathing.

"Have you, by any chance, seen a psychiatrist recently? Anyone who's made a psych evaluation?"

"Yeah. The diagnosis was not great."

"What did it say?"

"Uh, psychosis, PTSD, depression, anxiety, paranoia, anger issues, I heavily lose track of time sometimes, did I mention the occasional sadistic tendencies?" You tell her, shrugging your shoulders. "That about covers it."

Yoko's brows scrunch up in pity. It makes you feel weak. Pathetic.

Before she can even open her mouth to say anything, you shake your head, backing away from her. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you feel sorry for me."

"I do. Is that so bad?"

"Yes. I hate it."

God, your head hurts.

You get up and move out front, walking away from her on purpose, but she feels the need to have this conversation with you. "You can't keep suppressing what you feel."

"I most certainly can."

"It's not healthy."

"My whole lifestyle is anything but healthy. They've already messed with my head too much. It doesn't matter."

"Who, Simmons and his men?"

"Yeah."

She's unsure of what to say. You do it for her.

"Look, don't feel sorry for me. My fate has always been a shitty one regardless of the path I would choose."

"Why's that?"

"Either I was going to be experimented on by my own uncle, killed in Raccoon City like everyone else there, or this. I never stood a chance." Then you chuckle, but there's zero humor to be detected. "I... I wish I hadn't hurt Leon so much. Oh God, I fucked up."

The young woman is no psychologist, but she sure as hell finds it interesting to analyze your reasoning behind all of this, especially since she's beginning to understand it. She takes notice of the way your facial features twist from sadness to anger, anger to frustration, frustration to regret, regret to sadness, repeat. It's a continuous cycle you can't seem to break out of.

What a draining way to live.

Since she's not saying anything, you shake your head. It's like the switch in your head flips again. The muscles in your face relax, morphing back to the emotionless expression you often carry. "Oh, well. It was bound to happen, I guess."

Yoko sees it happen, and instead of saying anything about it, she goes along with your change of attitude. "You think so?"

"Yeah. I didn't like hurting him. But pushing him away felt like the right thing to do at first. Perhaps it was. He deserves someone better than whatever I've turned into anyway."

"Maybe you're looking at it wrong — it's not you, just the environment that you're in." She suggests, voicing her thoughts. "Maybe you made a wrong turn along the way."

"No. I was just engineered differently."

As the two of you are walking, she feels the urge to put her hand on your shoulder, as it is her way of showing someone that she cares, but refrains knowing you can react negatively to physical touch.

And maybe, she thinks, this is what you need. Someone who understands you or at least actively tries to understand you, your reasoning — someone who knows and respects your boundaries. God knows Simmons didn't.

Your insecurity and paranoia creeps in when a silence occurs between you. It's like you can feel her judging you, which is far from reality, but you don't know that.

Clenching your fists, you sigh. "Do you... do you understand why I did those horrible things?"

She tucks a strand of black hair behind her ear. "I didn't at first, but I thought about it on the flight here. Believe it or not, I get it."

"So once we get my antidote, you'll let me do what I need to do, right?"

Yoko's heart sinks. You're asking her to let you go on a mission you won't be able to get back from. She needs to say the right thing here. "Is that really what you want? To have more blood of innocents on your hands than you already do?"

Her words have you clenching your jaw. "Forget it. Of course you think I'm some heartless bitch too."

"That's not true. I know you're not."

A short-lived silence rises.

"I just wish there was someone out there who would understand that I never... I never wanted to see the world burn. I didn't, I swear." You tell her, a very present lump in your throat, the words sounding awfully familiar. "The people who hurt me — they deserve to be hurt. They do."

"I know that—"

"And yet you're trying to stop me anyways — so you really don't. The only one who'd allow me to go through with it is Simmons." The tears pooling in your eyes make your vision blurry. "I hate that man to the bone. I always will for what he did to me and I will kill him one way or another, but he's been right about everything since day one. No one understands me. Not really."

Yoko gently puts her hand on yours. "None of us have experienced what you have. None of us have the power that you have. But I get it. If I were in your place, I'd probably feel like doing the same. I know you think that revenge will make you feel better again, but at the end of the day, once you've slaughtered those people, you'll feel empty and alone."

"It'll be worth it."

"You think?" She asks, the look on her face so utterly genuine that it causes you to soften up. "Haven't you imagined the life you could have if you chose to go down the other path?"

"What other path?"

"The tougher one." Her lips curl into a sweet and gentle smile. "Leave your trauma, all of it, behind you. It might sound impossible, but it isn't. There's a different, better life out there, even for you. One where you can be happy — I wish you could see that."

Up until this point, you've always told yourself that living a better life was no option, simply because it was never going to be in your grasp. Simmons always told you the same. How could you not believe it with all those things you were put through daily?

Just the mere idea of happiness makes you swallow the lump in your throat. "You think that's possible for me?"

She nods, using her fingers to push away some of the strands of hair covering your face. "We're gonna kill Simmons, and he'll suffer. And then you can take some time off, however long you need to get better — and when you get back, I'll still be there for you. We all will be. I know for a fact that the rest of the team has your back. I know you have ours. So we'll go all in if you do the same."

Going all in. It's a big risk. You'd be throwing away the plan you've worked so damn hard for. All the blood and pain and death and suffering — could you even live with that?

But if what Yoko says is true, if you could start over, with people who will have your back no matter how ugly things might get, no matter how much trauma you need to get out of your system — what the hell is holding you back?

"Okay." A simple nod of your head does it. "I'll go all in."

"You won't regret it."

"Have you ever considered becoming a motivational speaker?"

"I prefer fighting people instead."

"Solid. Sorry for threatening you with that knife by the way."

"It's alright." She opens her arms and walks over to you to give you a hug — though not without checking whether you're okay with it first — and then you finally find yourself able to reciprocate the gesture.

The sudden change of atmosphere has you both cracking up a little. Whatever's in the air here, it sure is something.

It nearly causes you to forget that you're still very much in unknown territory. With enemies. A lot of them.

Yoko drags you into the bushes all of a sudden. Once hidden, she points to the moving silhouettes behind some wooden structures, and you nod.

There's quite a big group of armed goons spread out. With the thickness of the forest and vegetation, some of them are harder to spot, so it's definitely for the best to remain out of sight for the two of you as well.

Considering there seems to be no way to go around this area, the only way to continue is to go through them.

"Best way to handle this is to—"

"—get to higher ground." You finish her sentence, and she hums in agreement. From the corner of your eye, you spot a good place to use a sniper rifle from. "What if you back me up from there and let me handle the guys on the ground?"

"Are you sure? With your strength decreasing?"

"Yeah, I can handle it."

"Okay. Be careful."

You let her go up and secure her spot first. Once she's in position, you play with the knife in your hand, eyes scanning the area in front of you.

There's about eleven of them. They're spread out between the trees, which gives you the advantage as you move forward, into the bushes.

If anything, the dense jungle is perfect for this. It's surprisingly easy to sneak through the soldiers, mainly because they're spread out way too thin, every single time.

Yoko watches you tear through them one by one, skillfully and quietly. She finds herself silently cheering you on as she admires your agility, all while keeping her finger below the trigger, remaining alert to both your and her surroundings.

Once it looks like one of the men is trying to call it in, she immediately clears her mind and focuses on pointing her rifle just right to get a headshot.

On the ground, you notice the armed soldier getting shot through the head, knocking back onto the floor from the heavy force of the bullet. You take out the remaining men quickly, lips pressed together as you crack the neck of the last one.

As you're scouring the bodies for supplies — and perhaps a snack or two, because the rumbles of your empty stomach are sounding an awful lot like a goddamn whale at this point — Yoko joins you again, the rifle sitting safe and sound on her back.

"Find anything?"

"Yes!" You suddenly exclaim, not even meaning to respond to her question as you hold up a bar of chocolate. She sees you breaking the bar in two to give her some as well. "Finally. God, you're lucky I like you, 'cause I would've eaten the whole thing in front of you if I didn't."

Yoko chuckles and accepts half of the bar. "I feel honored."

Once the two of you are all set to get moving again, it doesn't take long before you come across the next obstacle.

Water. A river, to be exact. One of the many downsides to being stranded in a jungle.

Besides the constant threat to be shot through the head, of course.

Yoko observes the situation at hand and huffs. "The current is way too strong. That river's gonna kill us if we jump in."

"Well, here's hoping."

She looks back at you with furrowed brows. "What did we just talk about?"

"Right. No suicidal thoughts. Sorry."

"That's the spirit. C'mon, we gotta find a way around."

As she takes the lead, you follow her with a shrug of your shoulders. "Yes, ma'am."

While you're getting closer to the power plant, Leon and Neal are nearing the airfield.

It's starting to rain and the sun is not at its highest point anymore, going down.

Leon is feeling considerably the worst thus far. His wife is slowly dying at the other side of the area, he's hungry, tired, injured, and he hasn't slept in God knows how long.

So to say he's irritable would be an understatement.

"She'll be alright, Kennedy." Neal suddenly tells him, and Leon realizes he's probably been quiet for a while.

"I'm not so sure about that." He mutters, talking more to himself than to the guy walking after him. "Hell, this shit might just be what I deserve."

"Why?"

"Let's just say I've got a lot of things to be sorry for."

Neal bites his lip, his question hesitant as it leaves his mouth. "Like what?"

"Things in the past."

"... such as?"

And once again, the terrible circumstances cause everyone in this damned place to reach their limits just a bit quicker than usual. "Jesus, Neal, what does it matter?"

So his companion scoffs in return. "Why are you so keen on keeping your past with Umbrella from us? It can't be that different from the things you're doing for the agency now. Besides, I thought we all trusted eachother."

It's silent again for a minute or two. Neal just assumes his superior won't respond to it — until he does.

"I keep it secret because it made me do some of the worst things I've ever done. One of my last missions for Umbrella—" he says, his fingers twitching for a moment, jaw clenching. "—I was ordered to kill a scientist and her husband. So I did. They returned from abroad, and the moment they got back to their house, I shot them before they could get out of their car. Bullet to the head. The image of blood seeping out of their wounds, I... it's engraved in my mind."

"You did what you had to do—"

"There was a little girl." Leon's voice is strained when he interrupts the younger agent. "It was supposed to be just the two of them, my targets, and then as I'm about to walk away, I... I hear this—this sobbing. I look down and see a little girl, probably not even ten years old, clutching onto a stuffed animal, tears running down her cheeks."

Neal listens, watching carefully as he sees the guy he looks up to crumbling for a moment. "Jesus." He chokes out quietly.

"That was the moment I knew I had to do something different. It happened a few days before the Raccoon City incident. I'll never forget it. And the worst thing is that I'm still the same. Still the same cheap piece of shit I was back then. Maybe even worse."

"We all are. We don't fight for the people that don't care about us because no one fought for us — and that's fine."

"Except someone did fight for me, and it ruined her goddamn life!" Leon suddenly snaps, unable to hold back for once. He clenches his jaw after the small outburst, running a hand through his hair. "You didn't know me back then. You weren't there."

"What did you do? What are you talking about?"

"She was one of my main targets when we accidentally crossed paths just outside the city. I lied to her nearly the whole night about my identity, and when she finally found out I was with Umbrella, I... she tried to escape from me. I couldn't let that happen. So once I found her again, I held her hostage. Handcuffed like a prisoner. We made it out of the city a while after, she gave me a second chance, and I blew it again. It's because of me that she's forced to work for the agency now. Because of me, she had to sit through four years of torture and manipulation and I wasn't fucking there. So as I said, Neal, I have a lot of shit to be sorry for. Does that clear it up for you?"

Neal is shocked to hear the truth. He knew you were traumatized, but this really takes the cake. "Fucking hell."

Leon sucks on the inside of his cheek, looking up at the sky for a moment to stop himself from getting emotional. "How the hell can I blame her for losing it? She tried to take her own life. All because of what I caused. And I can't lose her again — I need that girl just as much as I need to breathe to survive. If she dies, I die."

"Okay, so you — you messed up." The younger of the two says, nodding his head, then he shrugs his shoulders. "You've both done shitty things, made the wrong choices. As extreme as some of them may have been, it happened. But at the end of the day, only one person is responsible for her getting tortured, and that's Simmons."

"Neal—"

"Look, it's clear you both need therapy, alright? Like, many, many appointments. A lot. Maybe even group sessions."

"Get to the point."

"Stop looking back at the past. Focus on the present, on the one guy who you can confidently say caused everything. Your one shared enemy."

And he sighs, because the kid is right.

Before he can say anything in return, the sound of a chopper flying over causes them to drop their conversation and hide as quick as they can.

"That's gotta be headed to the airfield. C'mon." Leon tells him, and so they begin to jog into the direction of the chopper, hoping to find the destination.

As they're on the move again, he suddenly hears Lloyd's voice emitting from his earpiece. "All units, what's our status?"

Neal touches the device in his ear to respond on behalf of the two of them. "Scout to Watcher, we should be near the airfield. A chopper just flew over. Could be reinforcements."

"They're definitely alarmed. Make sure you're not seen. I have eyes on the docks, it's rather quiet here. You listening, Lieutenant?"

"Affirmative. We just reached the power plant without being spotted. We'll be getting ready to install the explosives."

Good. Looks like everything is going according to plan.

"Is the General still well enough to speak?" Leon then hesitantly asks, trying to play it off as humorous with a little chuckle behind it, but it's really just him being worried.

Then he hears a soft chuckle at the other end. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were worried about me."

His heart jumps and eyebrows scrunch upwards when he hears your voice. His response isn't any less playful than yours, though. "That so hard to believe, Sunshine?"

"You guys know we can hear everything, right?" Neal then purposely asks through the comms, which has Leon smacking him on the back of his head.

"Set the time limit at fifteen minutes. Execute everyone on site and get the C4 ready."

"Copy." The four of you all reply through the earpiece.

"Watcher out."

Leon feels slightly more optimistic, considering the facts that you still sounded alright and he and Neal just arrived at their destination.

The site is smaller than predicted. There's lots of cargo stored here, it seems, probably because it either just came in or will be shipped out of the country soon.

A group of men is spread out across the terrain. The chopper they just saw has landed, and as his companion predicted, it does indeed look like it was carrying reinforcements. More heavily armed soldiers with those damn thermal goggles again.

Neal taps him on the shoulder, then points to the loads of fuel located just outside the hangar.

That'll be useful.

If it were just the guys on the ground here, they could probably take them down quietly, but there's just one problem — and that's the big-ass radio tower next to the hangar. Even from here, Leon can see that the three operatives up in the tower are visibly keeping an eye on everything, and they will definitely be quick to call it in as soon as they see anything remotely suspicious.

"Fuck. Yoko has the sniper."

"There's no way we can get rid of the guys on the ground first, either." Leon adds to it, his eyes scanning the area to come up with a solution. "So that leaves only one option."

"Which is?"

"We tear the tower down."

Neal looks at him like he's insane. "And how the hell are we supposed to do that, huh? Our concrete-breaking super soldier is at the other side of the area. She's the only one who could pull a stunt like that off. Even though she probably couldn't with the state she's in now."

"We don't need any super strength — just something very sharp." Leon shrugs, and when his friend doesn't get what he means, he points his finger to the lower part of the tower. "These things here, including the tower — none of it was built yesterday. Look at the rust on that metal. Just climbing all the way up is a safety hazard. Those few black wires at the bottom are the only things keeping it up. But we have to cut all of them if we want it to drop. Thing is, our combat knives aren't gonna do the job."

"Will a machete do it?"

"Probably, but where the hell are we gonna get one of those?"

"Right in that little equipment box over there."

He's caught by surprise as Neal gestures to the cargo box with a simple nod of his head. "It's almost like they want us to kill them."

"Don't jinx it."

A second chopper comes flying in from a different direction than the previous one. Now that the men by the hangar are focused on said chopper, getting closer to the aircraft, Leon gets up. "This is our chance. They're distracted now."

And so they get to work. Leon sneaks in to get the blade, Neal remains hidden around the corner, keeping his knife ready for whoever might walk in.

Thankfully, no one does.

Then they get back outside, ready to cut down the three safety wires.

The first one is easy. It's well-hidden behind the hangar, and it doesn't look like the men ever get over there.

Wire number two is already more of a challenge. He has to cut it down while crouching, nearly kneeling, as he's seated behind a few wooden boxes. If he stands upright, he'll be seen.

When the wire is cut, the tower briefly makes a noise that sounds an awful lot like a squeaking door. In the middle of the night. Right at the moment when you're trying to be silent.

It has both him and Neal closing an eye, as if the sound hurts.

They exhale when no one seems to pay it much attention. "That just took five years off my lifespan." Neal whispers as they move to the third wire.

"Yeah, and these guys will get rid of our entire lifespan if we don't hurry the hell up, Heyward." Leon tells him, his heart beating in his chest from the adrenaline.

The third and final wire is the hardest. It's attached to a pin on the roof of a seemingly abandoned small building next to it. The top itself isn't hard to reach. He only has to climb up two floors and he can use an empty crate behind it to get himself up there.

What makes it difficult is that he's in plain sight. No one's noticed him yet, but if someone looks up here now, he's done for.

Sweat is starting to become apparent on his forehead as he tries to cut the final cable. His hands are beginning to tremble a little, he's pretty sure Neal just brutally stabbed a soldier to death who secretly went to go smoke, and it feels like the goddamn blade in his hands is doing absolutely nothing —

And then the wire finally snaps.

At first, it doesn't seem to do much. Then there's a certain screeching noise, a sign the tower has moved just the smallest bit in its place — Leon isn't sure what to do except watch when it finally topples over with a loud bang.

Several men got crushed underneath it. There's about two of them left, yelling and cursing at eachother, looking at the fire that has started in the top of the tower after the fall.

Neal refuses to waste any more time and shoots the two unsuspecting soldiers in the head, one after the other.

They immediately move to install the explosives. They spent a lot of time here, too much time — and that could cost them.

"Site cleared and C4 installed." Yoko states through the earpiece, clearly waiting for the rest to give a status update on the situation.

"Copy." Lloyd is clearly waiting for confirmation. "What's taking so long, Leon?"

"Give us a sec — we had some issues."

"You okay?" He then hears you ask.

"Yeah, we're all good. It just took a little longer to clear the site. We had to tear down a radio tower."

"You did what?"

"Minor detail." He huffs while installing the last explosive, making sure it's active. "C4 installed. We're all good to go."

"Detonation in thirty seconds. Get the hell out of there."

Neal and Leon make a run for it, getting as far away from the airfield as possible in the time they have, and then the explosion comes.

It's god-awfully loud, and even from a distance, there's a clear flash of light from the impact. The blast caused a fire as well, and it catches them off-guard for a moment despite knowing it was coming.

Then they get their focus back. The idea is to regroup at the mansion, stay hidden from any passing soldiers and kill as many as possible.

The explosions should work well enough as a diversion to at least get enough time to get the antidote and get out again.

If it's even there at all. No, it has to be.

For you, the road back is a lot less comfortable. The virus is spreading further, getting dangerously close to altering your brain.

It's beginning to get very hard to be walking the whole time. The effects of the virus are really setting in now, and so the energy in your is body slowly going down the drain.

An incoming threat forces you and Yoko to take a little detour, near the ruins of the area, and to say things are unstable here is a severe understatement.

The ruins are close to the cliffs by the sea. The terrain is rocky and quick to break off from even the slightest impact, like a system that was created years ago but has grown prone to falling apart in the blink of an eye.

You get completely caught by surprise when the ground underneath your feet crumbles. "Oh, shit!"

Catching a glimpse of Yoko attempting to grab you but failing, you hit several hard surfaces before dropping right onto cold, gritty stone.

The pain in your back has you whimpering for a moment as you're laying on the ground. Your partner, who's still up there, begins to talk to you through the earpiece. "Jesus — are you okay?"

"Never better." You respond while trying to catch your breath.

"Fuck, I have no rope to rappel down with—"

"You don't have to. Looks like there's some kind of path down here. I can make it on my own."

"What's going on?" Leon suddenly asks from his end of the line, joining the conversation.

"I fell, like, way down — near the ruins."

"Shit, that's dangerous. You can't be on your own out here."

"Lloyd's been on his own for a few hours now and he's all good. I think."

"Affirmative." The man in question responds briefly but strongly, having nothing else to add to it.

"Yeah, but his body isn't getting weaker like yours is. You know that." Your husband says to you, pausing before he tells you the plan. "I'm heading into your direction. Try to stay out of sight."

"No. We said we'd meet up at the mansion."

"Baby, you of all people should not be on your own right now. Not with the side effects of the virus."

And you roll your eyes at him, unable to resist making a snarky little comment. "I don't need the help, Leon, it's fine. I can still walk."

"What a compelling argument."

Yeah, you should've known that wasn't gonna cut it. "I'm full of them."

"Oh, I know." He snorts. "I mean it. Stay out of sight. I'm gonna get to you as fast as possible."

Knowing you're not gonna get him to change his mind, you sigh and nod, then remind yourself he can't see it. "Yeah. Okay."

It takes you a damn lot of energy to get up from the ground. Jesus Christ does your back hurt now.

It looks like you're gonna have to be limping slightly with your left leg hurt from the fall. As you're on your own in the jungle, you try to think about anything other than how much your body aches, how scared you are, and how much you would give to just give up.

Would sleeping for a little while hurt? Yes, probably, but God is it tempting.

You wipe your hand over your face from tiredness and to remove some of the sweat. Your eyelid twitches from the lack of sleep.

Shit. You should keep better track of where you are and where you're going.

And you just really, really wish Leon was with you right now.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a low, guttural rumble that causes you to freeze. It almost makes you doubt yourself — was that your imagination?

When the sound rings through your ears again, a primal fear sinks into your gut, goosebumps erupting on your skin. You stay still in your spot, eyes narrowed in focus to find whatever is making the noise.

Another drawn out growl rolls down from the trunk of the tree above you, and agonizingly slowly, you allow yourself to look up at the source of it.

Oh, fuck.

When two blazing yellow eyes stare back into yours, a chill runs down your spine, and you remember that you're standing in the middle of a very dangerous and alive jungle.

The jaguar makes a low hiss that would have anyone trembling in their place. You can practically feel it vibrating through your bones. You can't find it in yourself to look away from its eyes, and you come to the realization that you only have a knife to defend yourself from the massive cat.

Its spotted coat mimics the speckled light that pokes through the thick canopy of the rain forest. If it hadn't made the noise that it did, you wouldn't have noticed a thing.

Running isn't an option. That'll get you killed instantly.

So without breaking eye contact, you try to ignore your fear and use your trembling fingers to take your knife out of the scabbard, and within the blink of an eye, the animal jumps out of the tree, ready to tear you to pieces, and all you can do is muster your strength and courage — and fight back.

Notes:

welp. this chapter was a lot better in my head. oh well.

so reader's on her own now, and she will obviously not get out of it unscathed. but you'll see that next time.

aaand they're gonna go through hell and back next chapter. if it gets too long i might end up splitting it in two, but let's just say that our big bad villain finally makes an appearance. (it's the end as y'all probably already guessed. be prepared to cry.)

Chapter 38: Act II - 16. The End of Bonnie & Clyde, Part I

Summary:

The night of survival seems to slowly approach its end — and so do you.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Leon Kennedy is not easily stressed.

He is right now, though.

His current main priority is getting to you. But the universe clearly does not like him. At all.

Because he and Neal have genuinely been fighting for their lives to get past the incoming soldiers and goons since they blew up the airfield. Every time they think the situation is clear and they've killed the last one of them, a new group of back-up comes their way. It's exhausting and costs them a lot of time.

And then there's issue number two. He doesn't know exactly where you are or what direction you're going into, and you haven't responded to anything that was said over the comms ever since you and Yoko had to split up.

Which was probably about forty minutes ago, if not longer.

He's extremely worried. Why the hell aren't you answering anything? God, he fears the worst.

He's briefly pulled out of his constant state of anxiety when the radio that belonged to the now dead soldier begins to make noise. He turns the volume up and puts it to his ear, him and Neal looking at each other as they listen to the words of the commander.

"Attention to units 5A and 5B — there's reports of a woman screaming near the ruins by the cliffs, seaside. Presumably a hostile. Send someone in to investigate the situation. Our men are getting killed, the power is out, this is a targeted attack — so kill them unless you want them to kill you first."

"Someone screaming?" Neal asks with wide eyes, and they're both thinking the same thing.

"That's gotta be her. Shit. She's already weak, if someone hurts her, that's gonna get her killed."

"We need to get back to the storages. Fast."

As the two agents begin to make haste, Leon huffs to himself out of frustration. "Fuck. This is not how tonight was supposed to go."

"What do you mean?"

As they squeeze through a narrow gap in between some rocks, he absentmindedly explains it. "Spending a night of survival together is pretty much our thing. I guessed we could use it as a way to put our differences to the side, make amends, make her see reason — not like this."

Neal narrows his eyes at the statement, but chooses not to respond to it.

They spot reinforcements in the distance. The younger one of them groans. "Fucking hell. How many guys does Simmons have on his paycheck?"

"Too many."

"Sooner or later, we're gonna get caught."

"Then you, I don't know, distract them."

"Any suggestions?"

"Scream at them. Fake an epileptic seizure. Go nuts."

"I'm not epileptic."

"Hence the word fake."

"I have no idea how Toots puts up with you, y'know that?"

Neal only receives a smack to the back of his head as a response.

So they silently agree to very quickly get rid of the fuckers on the ground and keep moving. They're both stressed, feeling like their time is running out as if they're the ones in mortal danger, and maybe in some way, they are — but the squad's number one priority is you.

After getting more blood on their hands, they continue their way through the vegetation of the jungle, and Leon presses a finger to his earpiece.

"Yoko, status update?"

"I'm about to reach the storages again. You?"

"We were close, but a few guys showed up, too many to handle, so we had to take a detour. Looks like we're close to the dig site."

"Oh, fuck, Leon. Those guys have some solid armer on 'em. This might become a real challenge." She whispers through the earpiece.

Damnit. This is not going the way it was supposed to. With one member of the team missing, they need to adjust the plan.

"That mansion needs to be infiltrated no matter what. Killing Simmons isn't our main goal, getting that antidote is." Leon sighs. He's pretty sure he'll go insane if the fucker somehow walks out of this alive. "I'm gonna head for the ruins. Yoko, can you stay there long enough until Neal gets there?"

"Negative. It's crawling with goons and guns here. Besides, if you and Neal split up too, we're all on our own. That's dangerous."

"I know, but it's gonna cost me too much time to come with. You know what I need to do."

Lloyd then taps into the conversation. "Me, Neal and Yoko will head to the mansion. Then we can discuss how to approach getting inside, because we haven't even seen the place yet. You head to the ruins. Make sure to keep contact. Remember the code-in."

"Copy." He responds, ending the conversation. So this is where he and Neal part ways. "You take the map."

"Sure?"

"Yeah. You guys are probably gonna need it more." Leon assures him, and his younger companion takes the folded piece of paper and proceeds to put it in one of his many pockets.

"Alright. See you soon. Take care of Toots, will you? Let us know once you've found her?"

It means a lot to Leon — that in spite of everything, all the fights and arguments and betrayals, you've still earned your place in this squad, and everyone in it cares about you in their own way.

"I will. Be careful — don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Good copy, sir. Over and out." The boy winks playfully, his way of making it clear that he'll watch out for himself right before running off towards the storages.

Leon watches his younger brother figure disappear by the treeline, and just like that, he's on his own.

Putting his emotions to the side, he tries to focus on this like he would with a regular mission, even though he can feel the beads of sweat running down his back and his pulse just about nearing someone having a heart attack.

He tries to put himself in your shoes. If he had to think like you, what would he do and where would he go?

More importantly, why were you all the way by the cliffs? That's the opposite direction of where you're supposed to go.

His mind is running at a hundred miles per hour. The only reason he can think of for your non-responsiveness through the comms is if you lost it or it broke. He's confident you haven't been captured — he would've heard the announcement through the soldier's radio if you were.

There's a group of goons in the distance. He closes in without getting noticed, ready to go in for the kill, but their conversation makes him wait.

"So, what, we're supposed to look out for some girl?"

"Yeah. You heard his orders."

"I just don't think it makes sense for us to have to kill all of 'em except one. What does he want with her?"

"Does it look like I know? Who gives a shit? We don't get paid to ask questions."

"Teacher's pet."

"I heard that."

So Simmons has ordered them to bring you in alive. Of course he would. Whatever he's planning with you, he doesn't know or care for that matter — all he knows is that he needs to get to you before anyone else does.

He hides in the bushes to murder them one by one. It's most certainly not as enjoyable as before — right now it just feels like a tedious task that costs him precious time.

An unsettling silence washes over him. It's not often that he doesn't know what to do, and with the stakes this high he's pretty sure he's gonna lose it.

Oh, Jesus. There's more soldiers nearby, judging by the sudden gunshots. He hurries to see what the fuss is about, but makes sure to remain alert and cautious of his surroundings.

Fucking hell, they're crawling all over the area like fire ants on a grasshopper.

He gets to higher ground by climbing up, trying to get a good sight of the place, only to realize there's too many of them to take out right now. It gives him a bad gut feeling, but for now, it's probably wiser to avoid them and keep looking for you instead.

God, he prays this decision doesn't come back to bite him in the ass later.

So he silently moves away and keeps going further into the forest. Dark clouds circle over him, so it must start to rain soon.

He's not sure how long he's been walking for at this point. He's so tired, thirsty, scared that he might find you when it's already too late—

Leon's eyes suddenly widen once they spot the blood on the ground. Oh, no. This is bad. Really bad.

It's a lot — undoubtedly enough for someone to bleed out. It looks like whoever was bleeding got dragged away from the scene of the crime, seeing the trail gets thinner and thinner and eventually stops, save for a few drops.

Feet feeling like they're locked in his spot, he frowns and turns his head to look around, trying to find any sign of what the hell happened here.

And he finds nothing.

Then he hears the rustling of bushes behind him, so he raises his gun, until he sees that it's you.

But holy hell, he barely recognizes you at all.

Aside from the fact that the virus has spread a huge amount, you're limping on one leg, and there's blood — so much blood. Dripping from deep, angry slashes on your body. One half of your face is covered in bloody cuts and bruises.

Everything aches and stings. It hurts to walk, to stand, to lie down, and it has you sobbing. You look beyond defeated.

"Leon?" You ask, immediately feeling a fleeting moment of happiness when you see it's him, reaching out for him with a shaky hand, the other clutched to your stomach as if it will ease your pain.

He rushes to your side, gently taking you in his arms to avoid hurting you even more. "What the hell happened?"

You mutter the answer before sitting down on the ground for a moment, seemingly slightly out of it. "Jaguar."

"How did you end up all the way here?"

You swallow the blood in your mouth. "I was trying to get back to Yoko, and I heard this—this growling, and there was this huge fucking Jaguar, and I only had a knife 'cause I lost my gear in the fall, and—it was moving so fast, and there was so much blood, I think I passed out after killing it, but—I don't... I don't know—"

Leon wishes he could take your pain to ease your wounds. You look terrible, traumatized even, barely able to speak normally as you're still trying to comprehend what happened.

"Jesus Christ." He exhales, getting on one knee in front of you while touching his earpiece, as he guesses yours is either lost or broken. "Can anyone hear me?"

"Yeah, come in."

"I found her, Neal, but she was attacked. She's heavily injured and can barely stand up straight, let alone walk."

"And she won't heal until we get her that antidote." The young man finishes his sentence. "Shit. Where are you now?"

"Somewhere north-east from the storages. We shouldn't be far off from the mansion."

"Goddamnit. Entering alone is dangerous, but I can't get a hold of Yoko and Lloyd. I'm at the west side — I probably won't be able to meet up with you guys in time, but I can create a diversion from this side."

"I'll let you know when we get there. Keep me posted if anything happens."

"Will do. Be careful."

Once he's done talking to Neal, he rubs the part of your skin that hasn't been cut. "We gotta go, baby, I know it hurts, but we have to. Can you walk, Sweetheart?"

You grunt in pain when you get up. He takes your one arm and puts it over his shoulder, the other looping around your waist.

Dark clouds circle in the sky as it begins to rain. "How did you find me?"

"I got lucky. We called for you through the earpiece but you didn't respond."

"It, uh... it stopped working after I got slashed by my ear."

Poor girl, he thinks to himself. He's never seen anyone still alive look this bad after a fight. It's a damn miracle you're still kicking.

"Maybe they've got some morfine lying around in the mansion somewhere." He mutters to himself, but you scoff next to him.

"As if I'm gonna make it that far." You comment, whimpering in pain, because even just leaning on him hurts.

"Don't talk like that. I'm gonna get you there safe, even if it's the last thing I do."

"Am I really worth that much to you?"

"You're worth more than that."

Through your tears, you muster a tiny smile of gratitude. He doesn't have to glance at you to know the look on your face.

The small sense of relief you felt once Leon found you suddenly crumbles.

Fuck. The two of you spot another fucking group of reinforcements in the distance. You're in no condition to fight, but he needs to take care of these guys for you to keep going.

Thunder rumbles in the distance when you cry out in pain, and Leon holds your body against his chest, hiding behind a tree with his hand covering your mouth, praying it didn't attract any attention.

You hold onto him like your life depends on it as you wait anxiously for something bad to happen.

Leon releases his breath when the coast is clear. "I'm gonna take care of these guys. You stay back here. Be quiet. Keep your eyes open."

He makes sure you're hidden in some tall plants behind a few wooden pallets, hoping you won't be spotted.

The rain is a good thing — it covers his tracks, allows him to make more noise, gives more opportunities.

He moves differently now. The stress of not knowing where you are has been replaced by anger because of the situation you two have to go through. Already injured, constantly having to watch your backs, sick and tired of all this bullshit.

The training he got at the government was child's play compared to his Umbrella training. The ruthlessness, how to deal the hardest blows, the easiest ways to murder someone without making a sound — he got all of that from them.

So now he'll use it to hurry the hell up and get you to safety.

With gritted teeth, he proceeds to break a man's neck, the next receives a blade to the stomach and chest, the next gets his neck torn open, and he just keeps going until every last one of them is dead.

It's like his humanity comes back to him once he's checked all their bodies for anything useful. No painkillers, sadly.

He gets back to you, and it's a sight that makes him feel beyond uneasy, because you nearly look like a corpse, with your empty eyes and zoned-out look, but you move a little once you see him, attempting to stretch your hand out.

"You still with me, Sunshine?"

"Mhm. I'm just so tired." You respond, trying to sit up, but it's difficult. He takes your hand and moves his other to your back to help you stand, but the moment you do, you drop to the ground again, crying out.

"What's wrong?"

"Leon, I can't... I can't feel anything in my left leg."

Fuck. Oh, shit. That's a problem.

"Okay. We can do this. Just... just lean on me."

You do as he says, but immediately notice it's going to take a lot longer to actually make progress. It hurts so fucking bad to move, to stand still, it's like someone is constantly pressing onto your wounds. You're sweating due to the heat but cold at the same time, you don't know when it's going to end or if you'll even survive this at all.

And it's exhausting.

As you nearly trip over a branch, you feel like you've just hit your breaking point.

"Leon, just..." you sniff, hands trembling from pain. "Just stop."

He turns to look at you, finding you sitting down on your knees. He's convinced you've never looked worse in your life — not even when you attempted to end it.

"Wanna take a small break?"

"No, I think—I think you should just go. I'll be fine on my own."

Both of you know you will most certainly not be fine on your own.

"You'll die."

"I'm only slowing you down."

"I am not leaving you. Don't even try it."

"Please. If you love me—"

Just hearing those words makes him bare his teeth. "Do not, ever, use that line against me in a situation like this. Ever. I will never abandon you."

"Except this is all my fault. I did this. I got myself and you guys into this shit, which means I'm the one who's gotta pay for it."

"You're on the brink of death. I think you've paid for it already."

"Doesn't mean you have to pay for it too. We won't make it in time, and I'm okay with sacrificing myself if it means you and the others can escape." You then give him a sad attempt for a smile. "What's that—that thing you said to me back in Raccoon City? Something about a sense of self-preservation? Not wanting to put your life on the line for someone ready to die? This goes against everything you stand for."

Aren't you just clever. Always trying to use his words against him — even if you are trying to save his ass here.

"I think you've forgotten about the moments I told you I was selfish. I still am. You're my number one, Sweetheart. I'd die for you just like you'd die for me — so I'm not leaving you here. You're stuck with me till the end."

He's real stubborn, and despite the hint of smugness in his words, your heart flutters again. "Okay."

"We can take a small break. Just take a moment to breathe, okay? A minute or two probably won't make that much of a difference anyway."

You nod at him, suddenly feeling very small when he sits down in front of you, taking your hand in his.

"Can you please... please just hold me for two seconds? That's all I need." You very quietly beg, clinging onto his arms.

The glimpse of your younger self makes Leon emotional. "Oh, baby."

He lets you wrap your arms around him and gently snakes his around you, though with a looser grip to avoid hurting you, but God did you need this.

"I'm so scared. I'm always scared, I'm—ter—terrified." You sob into his shoulder, fingers trembling as they grip onto the soft fabric of his thermal shirt. "Please stay with me. Even when I die. Please, Leon—"

"I'm staying with you. I'm not leaving you behind." He reassures you, urging you to remain somewhat optimistic, because he refuses to let you die here. "Promise."

So you nod, and you silently agree to stand up and move again.

After God knows how long, you've finally reached what seems to be the center of the whole area — the mansion.

It's a grand, four-story building that was most likely built several centuries ago by the looks of it. The distractions the five of you caused must've worked, because there's no guards to be spotted.

"Is it just me, or does that look ominous as hell?"

"The weather certainly adds to it." Leon mentions, referring to the heavy rain and thunder that's clearly sounding closer now. "Neal, status update?"

It remains quiet on the other end of the comms. Now that he thinks about it, he hasn't heard from Lloyd since you fell down the ruins and Yoko since he and Neal split up — and now it seems every single member of the team has gone MIA, except for you.

"Nothing?" You ask, fearing the worst, and your husband shakes his head.

"I doubt it's a technical difficulty."

"Fuck. You think they got caught?"

"All three of them? Separately? Without any of them able to make a single noise through the comms to give the others a warning? Unlikely."

"But possible."

"I'm the one who's supposed to be realistic here, not you."

"Being on the brink of death makes you do weird things, you know. It's like an awakening. Get it?"

"Maybe you're just weird."

"That why you married me?"

"Partially. I also just really liked looking at your ass."

"I feel flattered."

"You're welcome. Now, I don't know about you, but we should get the antidote, don't ya think?"

"Aren't you just full of great ideas—ow! Jesus, Leon, this fucking hurts—"

You're referring to him suddenly picking you up, carrying you in his arms now, putting pressure on your awfully injured limbs. "Sorry, Doll. But you're too slow. It's for your own good. The sooner we get you what you need, the sooner you heal and get rid of the pain. We're nearly there."

"God, your hands are fucking cold."

That makes him frown. "What are you talking about? They're not. I think you might have a fever."

"The asshole wasn't kidding when he said my body would be shutting down. Fucking hell."

As he carries you to what appears to be a backdoor, you taste blood in your mouth, but you keep it to yourself. He doesn't need to worry any more about you than he already does.

The dim lighting, echoes of his footsteps and drops of rain leaking through the walls almost gives the environment a dungeon-like feeling. It's definitely creepy down here. Certainly fitting for the secret lair of some evil asshole.

Leon gently puts you on your feet, so softly that your feet hardly make any noise when they touch the floor, briefly covering your mouth to hide your whimpers of pain, urging you to walk up the stairs with him.

You feel yourself getting dizzy, which nearly results in you falling on top of the staircase, but he catches you just in time.

"Stay with me. C'mon, I got you. We're nearly there, yeah?" The words are whispered so quietly that even you can barely hear them, but you nod, allowing him to put your arm over his shoulders again, even though it hurts like hell.

It's overall weirdly, unsettlingly quiet in the building thus far.

The second floor is completely different compared to the first. This floor reminds him of the Umbrella lab underneath Raccoon City four years ago. It looks clean, modern, with high-tech equipment, but instead of a lab, it bears more of a resemblance to a hospital.

It looks safe in the room. Quiet, save for the occasional beeping of the monitors — and he feels like he can breathe properly for a moment. He figures there's got to be something useful here. Hell, maybe the antidote is sitting around in a cabinet somewhere.

He pushes back a chair and gestures for you to take a seat, only releasing you once you don't need him to hold you up anymore. "Sit down for a sec — there you go. Try to stay awake, okay? Maybe they've got some painkillers here."

So you nod your head, murmuring a quick reply, letting your head rest against the wall behind you.

Forcing himself to look away from you, he shifts his focus onto the rest of the room. He pulls at some drawers and cabinets to check what's inside but fails to find anything actually useful.

Fuck.

"Ow, goddamnit—" you exhale, reaching for your head after a sudden pain shoots right behind your eyes.

"I know it hurts, baby." He tells you with his voice cracking, a clear sign that he's getting really, really worried. "It's all gonna be over soon, I promise."

He hears you chortle from the other side of the room. "Liar."

"Me? I'm offended you think so."

"Leave it to you to make me smile on my deathbed, Kennedy. Or death chair. Whatever you wanna call it. Hah, that's funny." You mention, shrugging your shoulders as you somehow find it in you to giggle at your little joke.

Leon forgets to respond, however, when he notices something.

"These brain scans — they're yours." He mutters, though loud enough for you to hear, and you squint to look at the prints.

"And the effects of the virus." You add to it. "Leon, if it gets to my frontal lobe, I—I'll be completely lost. I don't have much time."

It's a harsh reality check — not that he needed one, but it still hits him like a truck once more.

Then he looks to the side, spotting some interesting documents underneath the desk. He takes the rolled up paper and puts it on display on the table.

Thank fuck for blueprints.

"According to this, the antidote should be somewhere in the lab on the top floor." He says without looking away from the print.

You're struggling to stay awake, a rising fever causing you to babble incoherently, upper body moving around as you're on the chair. "Pills, powders, liquids, IV fluids. Hypotensive episode. I need more blood — 's too dark in here."

"Just a minute, okay? I'm gonna save you."

"Yeah, sure. Guess I'll just... die. Take your time though."

Leon moves through the documents as quick as he can while chuckling at your little jokes.

A sudden thud behind him causes him to turn around, and he sees you've collapsed on the floor. So he rushes to your side to check on you, only to find you're unconscious. He taps on your cheek a few times to see if you're responsive.

"Goddamnit, I should've gone to med school. Uh, okay." He hastily says to himself while putting you on your side. "Wake up. C'mon—c'mon, don't give out on me now, Sweetheart, please. We can't stop now—"

But then your eyes open, and Jesus Christ, he's pretty sure you're going to give him a heart attack if you keep scaring him like this. It takes you a moment to recall where you are and what got you here.

"Leon, I—I think I fell." Your speech is slightly delayed and you look awfully disoriented, blinking a few times. "Can you hel—help me up?"

"Yeah." His hands are warm as they touch your trembling ones. "You with me? Brain still up and running?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Good. C'mon now, we gotta get you that antidote, yeah?"

You only grumble a little as a response but lean on him again once he's put your arm over his shoulder.

Getting to the top floor happens within a few blurry minutes. You feel like you're about to pass out, a heavy pressure inside your chest pushing onto your stomach, the pain is getting worse, and you're pretty sure your arm and other leg are slowly starting to give out too.

And the top floor is where you seem to find that you're not on your own here. This floor seems to be divided in more separate areas than the ones before, so once Leon finds an empty room where it's safe, he almost drags you toward it for the two of you to hide.

It looks similar to the second floor, all kinds of documents, cabinets, medical files — unfortunately you have yet to spot any morfine — but Leon's more focused on how to take out the people who are apparently in the other area. Soldiers, probably. There's been zero sign of Simmons yet.

As you're hidden behind the cabinet, you hear a few voices at the other side of the glass, meaning you should be careful here.

But every thought you had is thrown out the window when you suddenly spot the two vials sitting on top of a shelf, in a small cooler.

Even from this distance, you can see the number on the label — and it's your ID number. You'd recognize it anywhere, considering it's stamped on every file that concerns your work as an agent.

It's got to be the antidote and the second virus. There's no way it's not.

It's not safe to get it yet, as Leon is confident you'll be seen once you take it or some kind of alarm will probably go off. So when he sees you looking at it, he wants to tell you that — but it's already too late.

Mustering every bit of strength you've got in you, you get up from your spot as quickly as possible to make a run for it, and then as you reach out for the vials, you're completely knocked back onto the tiled floor from the sudden bullet to your shoulder.

You gasp out in pain as your trembling hand reaches to the fresh bullet wound.

When you look up, you instantly feel your heart sinking as you lock eyes with the man responsible for your pain.

He's got his gun sitting in his hand, playing around with it as if he didn't just use it to shoot you. "Still alive? I'm impressed."

"Fuck you." You hiss back at him, and you notice a few of his men have Leon surrounded at the other side of the room, tying his hands together.

You're not getting out of this alive.

"Take him to the others." The man orders them, and you frown. The others?

Simmons wastes no time to drag you with him, ignoring every pained sound that comes out of your mouth, every cut and bruise on your body.

You're pretty much on the verge of passing out when you're thrown on the floor in a different room than the one you were just in, and when you regain your vision, you notice something.

Yoko, Lloyd, Neal — they're all tied to the metal bar attached to the wall, all looking worse compared to the last time you saw them. Leon is the fourth one to join them.

Fuck. They were all caught, and with you in this state and position, Simmons has the upper hand.

So that means it's not just you that'll die here — it's all five of you.

You back yourself against the wall when Simmons takes a few steps closer to you, instantly making yourself smaller, hoping the ground will swallow you whole.

He snaps his fingers in front of your face, keeping his eyes fixed on yours. "You should've been dead at this point. I guess you're not as weak as I thought. Maybe you are worthy enough of that antidote, after all."

And you just can't help being sarcastic. "I feel honored."

"You should. But you didn't come alone like I told you, and you killed a lot of my men, so that comes with repercussions — for you, anyway."

"Naturally." As you're coughing up blood on the floor, he moves to grab one of the two vials and a combat knife before throwing the latter at you, and you look at it with furrowed brows. Why on earth is he voluntarily giving you a weapon?

"I'll give you the antidote and the second virus, but only on one condition." He says, having to repress the sickening smirk rising to his face. "All you have to do is take the life of one of your colleagues."

The members of your squad remain quiet, but they're clearly surprised by his words. You just laugh at him, blood visibly staining your teeth. "Go fuck yourself."

The man clearly didn't anticipate that reply, but it doesn't appear to throw him off, either. He gets closer to you again, acting like he pities you. "What a shame. Killed so many people, came so far, only to die like a weakling. Predictable as ever, aren't you? It's sad and pathetic, really."

That makes your rage flare up, even though you don't have the energy for it. "Don't you dare call me that."

But he keeps going, keeps using his words for the manipulative game he's playing. "It's the truth. I thought you wanted this. But now you'll die here, and it'll all be for nothing. You'll die for nothing. And all those people who watched you as you bled out — they'll just forget about the way they made you suffer and move on with their lives, if they haven't already."

"It's not gonna work. Don't try to get into my head." You almost beg, trying to sound stronger than you are, because he's gotten to you with words so, so many times.

"Get into your head?" He asks rhetorically, as if he has no clue what you're talking about, kneeling by your side, ignoring the sweat and blood dripping down your chin. "Is this what you do now? Pretend like your acts of ruthless murder and torture were all on me? Did I manipulate you?"

"You tortured me!"

"I gave you purpose!"

"By destroying me? I may be messed up, but you certainly take the cake, you fucking psychopath!"

"Undoubtedly." He just chuckles sarcastically. "But your greed for blood and power and everything that comes with it — that's always been there. It still is. All I've done is give you a reason to use it."

"No. That's not who I want to be—just stop. Please. I can't take it anymore."

He then throws in a look of sympathy, pretending to care about you. "It may not be who you want to be, but it is who you are."

A glint of sadness and anger shows in your eyes right before you cough up blood again, the aching in your throat making it painful to talk.

Simmons uses the moment to insert a needle into your neck, knowing you won't be able to fight back anyway. "Just a little bit to make you worthy of a fight."

It's not the antidote he inserted into your veins. It's the second virus — only a small part of the vial, anyway — the virus that enhances your strength. The mixture of your body growing more damaged and more powerful at the same time makes your stomach twist. It's like your skin is burning, and it makes you scream in pain.

Your whole body shakes in convulsive thrashings for a brief moment, almost like you're having a seizure, and then you're able to get up on your right knee, slowly steadying yourself to get up.

"C'mon, General — put on a good show. Spill some blood. It's not like you haven't done it before." He says, pushing you again and again like he always has.

And you grab the knife with a firm grasp.

It's a mess inside your head. You don't know what to do, don't know how to save them, don't know what Simmons really wants from you. You lock eyes with Yoko, and she just nods at you as if to reassure you.

"I said I'd go all in—said I'd go all in. I don't wanna do this." You mutter to yourself, chanting the sentences over and over again as you feel everyone's eyes on you, and they're waiting for your next move.

You go all in.

Notes:

hello! i hope you're all doing well, this update took a bit longer than expected because i chose to write the two final chapters before writing this one since i had more inspo for those… but it's here now :D

ended up splitting the final chapter (with the final fight against simmons) in two, so this is part one, part two will be released sometime soon as well (not sure when but definitely within a month!) and then there's one long epilogue after that to round things up and complete the story :)

hope you've enjoyed this chapter, let me know your thoughts, thank you for reading 3

Chapter 39: Act II - 17. The End of Bonnie & Clyde, Part II

Summary:

Simmons has to be defeated once and for all, but not without sacrifice.

Notes:

content warnings: torture, brief moment of self-harm, a whole lotta violence, minor suicidal thoughts, sorta the final fight :D

songs i listened to on repeat while writing this chapter:

henry jackman - brother's keeper (during the fight scene)
pearly drops - bloom for me (for the scenes after)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Everyone in the room gasps when you put the knife up against your own throat, your heart beating like crazy as you take a few deep breaths to muster the courage.

A small stream of blood comes out as you successfully force the blade to dig into your own skin.

"Do that and your friends will get shot." His voice is cold and monotonous. He doesn't care what you're going through. Not even the slightest bit.

So you very angrily huff with flared nostrils, slowly dragging the knife away from your neck, putting your hands up. "Motherf—fine! Fine. You're saying one of us needs to die, and the rest is free to go?"

"Of course."

You have to do everything in your power not to grimace at his overly kind tone. "If I do what you ask, I'd like to win my fight fairly. My opponent can't be tied up."

"Speaking of which, you still haven't chosen."

You pretend to think about it, making eye contact with every single one of them, even though you already knew who you'd choose the moment he suggested it.

A simple nod of your head in his direction does it. "Him."

The other members of the team begin to protest the moment they notice who you're talking about, but they're pulled back by the soldiers standing near them, tugging on the restraints.

Lloyd rubs his wrists after they've untied him. He doesn't say a word, doesn't show a single emotion, nothing.

He knew you'd choose him.

Then he speaks up. "Looks like you're finally getting that sparring session you were hoping for on the day we met."

He takes a few steps to the left, you to the right. "About time."

Flipping the knife in your hand, you grab it by the handle and wrap your fingers around it, being the first to go in for an attack, which he blocks, even though you notice it did hurt him.

Neither of you go easy on the other. If you didn't know any better, you'd hardly think you're both injured. He pushes you against the wall with a loud thud, and you lose your eyesight for a moment, but regain it just as quickly.

Adrenaline rushes through you again, a nice feeling before you'll undoubtedly meet your end.

You deal a blow to his stomach with your elbow, he punches your jaw, and several drops of blood splatter onto the wall from the impact. You nearly suffocate him in a headlock, he attempts to injure your good leg. It's a constant back-and-forth that doesn't seem to end.

If anything, he's your most worthy opponent yet.

And as violent as the whole thing is, he's still holding back. So are you.

So when he manages to get you on the ground, he grabs the knife which still sits clamped between your fingers and the palm of your hand, using his strength to point the blade to your stomach instead of his, his hand trembling as he grits his teeth.

Then you nod at him, blinking a few times, the sign that he can go through with it.

It's the sole reason why you chose to fight him. Lloyd is the only one who could do it — the only one who could put his emotions to the side and kill you to save the rest of the team, which is exactly what you want him to do.

"Do it." You whisper, tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, and his mouth twitches.

He doesn't want to do this, and he's trying to force himself to because he knew you were planning this the moment you fucking looked at him.

He whispers an apology the second the blade tears open the slightest bit of skin above your stomach.

You then add your own hand to push the knife deeper, and God does it hurt, but before more damage can be done, the blond man above you is kicked away from you by Simmons, who certainly isn't enjoying the show anymore.

"Which part of kill one of your colleagues did you not understand? You kill them, not the other way around."

As Lloyd gets tied up again, you get up from the floor slowly, still holding onto the blade.

Albeit hesitantly, you grab the handle of the knife a little tighter and then finally move it away from your skin, letting out a scream of frustration and anger. "God—I'm not doing it, for fuck's sakes! I gave everything I had, for years. Haven't I suffered enough of this bullshit? It's not fair! I'm not evil! I'm not. I'm not killing any of them. I won't do it."

Your burst of frustration and hopelessness causes a moment of silence in the room, but then there's a sharp sting of pain going through your body that has you dropping to one knee.

It hurts so much — like your body is getting ripped apart from the inside. It's getting harder to breathe and you don't know how to bear it.

Losing your focus is your first mistake.

Taking your eyes off Simmons wasn't a smart move. He grabs you by your jaw and then purposely presses on your gunshot wound to inflict more pain.

It has you sinking down to both your knees in agony. Blood begins to seep out of the wound again, the strength you just gained from the virus not strong enough to defeat the other virus that's been spreading through your body for the past weeks.

"Unbelievable. You really are weak." He hisses, clenching his jaw as he realizes that the people tied down to the wall have made you see that you can be something other than a heartless killing machine.

He rips the knife out of your hand, throwing it away carelessly, and it lands unintentionally close to Neal's feet.

As you struggle with your pain, trying to move away from him as much as possible, you start to beg. "We can cut a deal. I can stay here and do whatever you want, if you just let them go."

Simmons grabs your bloody jaw, watching with disdain as his best weapon grows more of a crying, weak mess. He hits you square in the face, causing the back of your head painfully collides with the floor.

With your bloodshot eyes, you try to stop yourself from blacking out as the life visibly disappears from your eyes.

You don't have the energy to look down, but you feel that gold ring you cherish so much sitting on your finger, and it's the only thing giving you the slightest bit of hope for the future — for theirs, anyway. You hope, for once, you can be the one to save it.

So as you lay on the floor, with Simmons kneeled by your side, you spit out some blood next to you, vision blurring. Mustering the last remaining strength you have left, you pull him closer to you by the collar of his shirt.

"I don't wanna hurt my friends." Tears roll down your cheeks, but you hardly make a sound. Blood stains your teeth, and you speak in a hushed yet steady tone while whimpering shaky breaths. "I give up. You can hurt me however you like — just let them go."

The lump in your throat weighs heavy.

I give up.

Words you've never even as much as uttered to yourself. You thought they would make you feel weak, but they don't.

He doesn't say anything. Not a single muscle in his face moves. You speak up again, tone firm, as if you're in a position to make demands. "Let them go, Derek. Please."

Everyone in the room seems to wait for his answer with baited breath.

"You... give up?"

The most hated man in the room is silent for a moment.

Then his rage unleashes.

"Giving up isn't an option, soldier." He pulls you up from the floor, not giving a shit you're on the verge of death, his anger taking over. "I fucking created you. You don't give up until I tell you to, you useless bitch."

You hear someone yelling your name as he drags you outside, onto the balcony, throwing you on the tiled floor again, thunder rumbling in the dark sky.

"I didn't train you for four goddamn years to get this fucking weakness in return." He snarls, taking an awfully long and sharp knife out of his jacket, and you only process it once he slashes at your face.

The blade barely misses your eyes and leaves a bloody wound, and you cry out in pain, but you don't have the time to dwell on it — because he's lunging do it again.

"You're nothing. I'll create a machine better than you, one I can actually rely on, because you just couldn't give me the one thing I asked from you. Pathetic."

His teeth are tightly clenched together as he attacks again, and again, and again. Your hands tremble when you try to take the hits with your lower arms in an attempt to shield your face and neck.

It's not until he begins to carve the word weak into your skin that you scream. Even with the little strength you've got left, you fight to push him off, tears streaming down the burning cuts on your face as you beg him to stop, yet he only pushes your head down harder.

There's a clear tremble in your voice as guttural, high-pitched screams escape you. The torture is simple but brutal and makes you just want to take his knife and slit your own throat. It mentally destroys you even more than the man already did prior to this moment.

A chill goes down Leon's spine when the terrifying sound rings through his ears. He's helplessly yanking on the chains around his wrists, completely going insane knowing Simmons is hurting you and he can't do anything about it.

Neal's breath hitches in his throat when he very subtly slides the knife you just nearly slit your own throat with underneath the ball of his feet, taking advantage of the fact that he's on the shorter side to grab the blade from the floor.

Your screams are no less horrifying and sweat begins to break out on his forehead as he uses the knife to quietly unlock the cuffs around his wrists, managing to pass the item to Lloyd standing next to him so he can do the same.

Two people is enough to take down the soldiers still in the room. Once he's freed their boss, Neal nods at Lloyd before they disarm the guards in a split second and knock them out.

Outside the glass doors, you've been pushed to the edge of the balcony, and if you move backwards the slightest bit, you'll fall from four stories high.

The lightning is nearly right above the building now, and it has struck a line of electricity at the entrance, starting a fire in the tall grass surrounding the mansion. You'd fall right into it if Simmons were to push you any further.

Before the man can slash at you for the umpteenth time, Neal interferes by grabbing the knife before it can hit your face, gritting his teeth when Simmons tries to keep pushing, blood dripping from his palm as the blade digs into his skin, but he refuses to let go.

You're too disoriented to tell what's happening. Neal can be strong when he wants to be, and seeing the damage that was done to you, he gets angrier and pushes back, as if he doesn't feel any of the pain being inflicted on his hand.

Lloyd finds the key to the handcuffs in one of the soldier's pockets, remembering he's the one who tied him up, so he gives the key to Yoko and proceeds to use the knife Neal gave him to undo Leon's cuffs.

The two men don't know how quick they get out of that room to step onto the balcony, and right then, it's like time slows down for a moment.

While Neal manages to push Simmons back, the man is still able to use his right leg to push you to the tip of the edge before becoming powerless, and with the surface being too small, you lose consciousness right when you're about to drop.

Leon runs like his life depends on it — and perhaps it does.

The few seconds go by like a blur. It's Lloyd who rushes to knock Simmons out by dealing a blow to the back of his head, moving to handcuff his unconscious body, and Leon rushes to grab your hand before you can disappear into the flames underneath your feet.

And he makes it just in time, dropping onto his knees by the edge, his hand holding your wrist with a firm grip.

Leon notices your eyes are open, but you don't look up at him or even try to raise your other arm. He musters all his strength to pull you up, and Yoko lets herself fall onto her knees next to him to help.

Once you're pulled up on the surface again, he takes in the sharp cuts, bruises and blood on your face, neck and forearms — you hardly have any untouched skin left.

He might as well burst out into tears when he sees how injured you are, but for this brief moment, the ones rolling down his cheeks are joyful, because Simmons has been taken care of and every other enemy is knocked out.

"We're alive. We're okay." He mutters to himself when he realizes it's over.

This hell is finally over.

Then he looks down at you, cupping your cheek, seeing your eyes are awfully empty.

The smile on his face begins to crumble bit by bit as soon as he notices you're not responding. The dark red veins reached the top of your head a while ago — oh, fuck.

"Someone get me that antidote!" He yells, making Yoko jump a little, and it's Neal who has the quickest reflexes and makes the run for it. He returns with the vial and needle and initially wants to hand it to Leon, but chooses to do it himself instead.

The needle is inserted into your neck swiftly — but your body doesn't give a single response.

"C'mon, wake up." Leon quietly begs, hands itching to remain on your skin, eyes watering. "Please wake up."

Still nothing.

It's in that moment that the tears begin to spill from his eyes. His hands are trembling, he doesn't know what to do, helplessly sitting by your lifeless body. "No, you don't get to do this to me, just wake up, Sweetheart, please—"

He hears Yoko sobbing behind him, and that's when it hits him.

This is it. This is where it ends.

You're dead.

Time seems to stop for a moment. It's like the air has been knocked out of his lungs.

I need that girl as much as I need to breathe.

So he lifts your upper body against his and he fucking sobs. He wishes he'd died with you. He just might press the first gun he finds to his temple and pull the damn trigger.

"Don't leave me." He begs again. God, he failed you like no one else ever has. Jesus Christ — you wouldn't even have been here in Peru if it weren't for his actions.

Immense guilt overtakes him, especially when his eyes find their way back to the shiny gold ring on your finger, which he gave you four years ago.

He blames himself for this — for all of it.

"You're making my shirt dirty with your tears."

"I'll buy you a new one." He replies, still sobbing, then realizing you just spoke to him.

And your eyes are not scarily void like that of a corpse anymore.

Well, maybe a little. Tired, but awake. He looks from your one eye to the other, processing what he's seeing, and then suffocates you in a hug.

It hurts, because your body is aching like it never has before, but you still let him do it regardless, though unable to reciprocate it.

"I can't move." Your voice is raspy and quiet, slower than usual, as if you just woke up from a deep sleep.

Leon nods and gently helps you to sit up, then get up on your feet. It's not until that moment that you realize you have zero strength in your body, so even with him holding you by your arm, you sink back onto the floor.

As you accidentally drop onto your knees, you look to the side and the word that Simmons carved into your arm catches your attention, some blood still seeping out of it. It has you staring at it for a moment, corners of your mouth curling down, trembling a little — the sign you're going to cry.

With shaky hands, you somehow manage to grab a knife you find on the floor and use it on your skin, attempting to scratch it over, even if it hurts like hell — desperate to get rid of the man's mark on you.

Leon sees it happen in front of him. His eyes widen and he snatches the blade from your fingers, then pulling you closer to him as he notices you're utterly breaking down.

"I'm not weak." You sob into his shoulder, shaking and crying uncontrollably, hands restless. "I'm not weak, Leon—"

And he cries too, still managing to speak softly, calming you down. "I know, my love — I know. You're the strongest person I've ever met."

His fingers softly caress the back of your head. You finally manage to take some deep breaths, heavy sadness slowly turning into numbness, and you put one hand on your heart, quite literally feeling your heart rate slow down with each passing second.

The emptiness in your expression is haunting. The thousand-yard stare, the sunken look in the movement of your eyes that clearly indicates you've seen and experienced things you'll never forget — it's scary.

Not a single sound comes out of your mouth. You're so worn out that you wordlessly let Lloyd pick you up from your spot on the floor, since you're unable to walk, and your boss gestures to the open field at the other side of the building. "C'mon. It's time we leave this place."

Luckily, the man in charge was able to send a message to his contact near the Brazilian border back when he was on his own by the docks, so a transport helicopter comes flying in from a distance, and he uses the flare gun he found in a cabinet attached to the wall to signal your location.

The flight back to the States passes quicker than expected. You're asleep for most of it, lying on a stretcher with an oxygen mask covering your nose and mouth and wires on your skin transferring your vitals to a machine behind you.

Leon, who so adamantly tried to stay awake to watch over you — even after giving two full bags of blood for you — fell asleep with his right hand's fingers intertwined with yours and his head on your stomach.

One of the doctors who inspected you and cleaned your wounds walks over to Lloyd, who's miraculously enough still awake, pointing to you. "I don't know what in God's name happened to that girl, but any normal person would be dead from those injuries."

The blond man chooses not to respond. "Will they be alright?"

"By the looks of it, probably. He needs to stay at the hospital for at least one night, give some blood for a couple tests — she'll have to stay longer. Even if she'll heal up like you said, that doesn't mean damage already done will all be reversed. She needs a CT, MRI and PET scan, blood testing, and to be monitored for at least several days."

"Fine. Make sure it's done discreetly."

"Yes, sir."

The doctor moves away from him again, and it's the first time he can actually hear himself think clearly in days.

An hour before landing, once Lloyd's gotten a few hours of sleep, he chooses to check on you, quietly sitting down next to Leon, who's still very much out.

God, you look terrible.

He doesn't know what he's supposed to think anymore. He wonders how the hell all of this happened on his watch — he feels guilty.

The train of thoughts is put to a halt when your finger suddenly touches his, nearly making him jump. He looks from your hand to your face and notices you're awake, though your eyes aren't completely open.

He then follows the movement of your fingers, which slowly move towards your pocket, and when your hand reaches his again, he sees what you just grabbed a hold of.

The vial with the remaining liquid of the second virus.

Shock sits visible on his face. "How did you get your hands on this?"

When you tap against the oxygen mask on your face, he understands you and takes it off carefully, putting it beside your head. "I have my ways."

Your voice is raspy, vocal chords possibly damaged from the screaming mere hours before, but here you are, smiling at him proudly.

"Keep it."

He frowns at that. "You're not going to use it?"

"No." You'd shake your head if you physically could. "I'm done. No more—no more bloodshed. Keep it away from me."

The man notices you're struggling to breathe, so he holds the mask above your mouth and nose for a moment to allow you to get some oxygen.

He thinks of what to say, but before he actually has the chance to, you've already grabbed a hold of his wrist.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Everything. The betrayal. Getting you involved in my mess."

What strikes Lloyd the most is how young you look. Thirteen years younger than he is, yet you've seen and experienced things he would most likely only have nightmares of.

At the other side of the chopper, Neal is asleep, and it's strange to realize you and him are the same age. He's so youthful, craving danger and adventure and adrenaline — you've had all of that and got traumatized like no human being ever should.

And you were even younger when you were suddenly thrown into this life. Within a single month, your whole life got turned upside down. At twenty-three, you've gone through hell and back, and he feels stupid for not taking this into consideration more beforehand.

"You did what you thought you had to do. Simmons cornered you and you did everything you could to find a way out." Lloyd tells you in response to your apology, using the mask to give you oxygen again. "If anything, I'm supposed to apologize to you."

You only raise a brow, fingers still on his wrist.

"I normally do my job without my emotions clouding my judgement. Cold and rational thinking. Leon goes with his gut — I go with plain logic. But I take care of the members on my team. So once we found out you were infected by the virus Simmons injected you with, I was upset you still didn't trust me enough to tell me about it. I let it get to me, and I shouldn't have."

He removes the mask to let you talk, and you do, though not without wincing in pain. "I just didn't—didn't want any of you to get hurt. Getting revenge was my business, and I thought—fuck—though you'd all be better off without me once I got killed off anyways."

It makes sense to him now. Over the past months, your behavior has been hasty, selfish and suicidal. The only thing you'd achieve with it is getting yourself killed — and that's exactly where you figured you'd end up anyway all this time, so why not push people away to make it hurt less? Make it easier?

"Sounds like an exhausting way to live."

A single tear soundlessly escapes your eye, running down the side of your face, landing onto the pillow. "It is."

"You're more than what you've been through, you know. And you can finally rest now — get away from this whole mess."

"And Simmons?"

"In government custody. After all the shit that's happened, there's plenty of evidence to prove his guilt."

"I want him to suffer like I did." You whisper, swallowing the painful pressure in your stomach. "I don't wanna see him ever again — but I want him to hurt. Please, Lloyd—"

The man takes notice of your rising heart rate on the monitor by the stretcher, so he holds your hand with his and uses the other to caress your shoulder, trying to make sure you remain calm to avoid hurting yourself. "He will. I promise."

And that's enough for you to somewhat relax your muscles again. "Will the others be okay?"

Finding a way to make the conversation a bit more lighthearted, he shrugs. "As long as you don't threaten them again, I'm pretty sure they'll be fine."

Which makes you laugh a little, then immediately grunt in pain, reaching for your ribcage. "Ow. Laughing fucking hurts."

"Sorry, I'm sorry." He says between chuckles, and you roll your eyes, even with your considerable lack of energy.

"Thanks for the advice — old man."

Lloyd scoffs, unable to stop a smile rising to his cheeks. "I can see why Leon likes you."

"I'm actually really likable—" you pause to hiss in pain, "—when I'm not a raging bitch."

"Duly noted." He responds, spotting the doctor coming his way. "Do you want me to ask for an extra dose of morphine?"

"Yes, please." You answer, letting him put the oxygen mask back on your face, zoning out as you look at the ceiling once he's gone from your sight.

The five of you eventually arrive at the hospital. Before you know it, four days have passed by, and they've all been released, leaving you as the only one still under care of the doctors.

Despite already having been released two days ago, Leon still finds himself in the hospital — though in your room instead of the one he was in.

He refuses to leave, even if you're asleep for most of the time, and he just sits by your bed all day.

Most of your injuries heal up relatively quickly. The stitches from the cuts on your face are still visible, but your condition is stable and body is slowly regaining the strength you previously lost.

Around noon, he decides to take a small break.

Leon sits outside the hospital, on a wooden bench overlooking the park. He's never been more thankful for the cool air hitting his face.

The first winter days have passed by. It's not that cold, though, so he's doing fine with the black coat that comes down to his knees.

He takes the last remaining sip of coffee in the disposable cup before throwing it into the trashcan, yawning from his lack of sleep and great amount of stress.

He feels a hand suddenly gliding over his shoulder, causing him to stiffen up, and when he turns to look, he sees it's you, his expression softening.

With your IV, you limp over to the empty spot next to him, and he gets up to help you keep your body up. "What are you doing out here without anyone watching you? You should be resting."

"Wanted to talk to you outside of that room. It gets suffocating after a while, you know. I needed some fresh air."

He chuckles a little at your tone, knowing it's your stubbornness talking. "Uh-oh, you're not gonna file for divorce, are you?"

"What, you didn't get the papers?" You respond sarcastically, and he wiggles his brows, entertained by your similar sense of humor.

You sit down on the bench with a heavy sigh, even something as simple as walking wearing you out quickly. Your journey to recovery is probably not gonna be a short one.

"You look tired, Kennedy." You mention, even if you're not exactly looking great yourself. "Why don't you go home to catch some sleep? I'm doing fine."

"Don't wanna risk it."

"Why do you always have to be this stubborn?"

"Guess I picked it up from someone else I know." He playfully retorts, making you press your lips together to keep your smile down. "What'd you wanna talk about?"

The smile fades as quickly as it came, and you look away from him, staring into the distance of the hospital courtyard, wind flowing through your hair as he keeps looking at you.

"You know, when I was a kid, I always dreamed about a life of adventure. It seemed so exciting in all those books, movies, video games. Even right before Raccoon City, I still wanted it." You chuckle, expression quickly shifting from a somewhat happy to a sad one. "This wasn't what I meant."

His conscience grows more and more present. He doesn't say anything.

"I've turned into someone I don't know. I look in the mirror and it's like looking at a completely different person — I don't remember much of who I was before I started in this line of work."

"I do." He says when it looks like you don't know what to say anymore in an attempt to comfort you. "She's still in there somewhere."

"I'm not sure about that."

"There's glimpses of her in your behavior, you know."

"Well I need more than a glimpse, Leon. I... I'm so tired." You try to get a smile on your face, but you just can't, especially when the corners of your lips curl down and your eyes begin to water. "So tired of being like this, constantly wondering who I really am and who I was before everything went to shit. I just can't do it anymore. It's exhausting."

Leon lets his teeth sink into his lower lip. "I'm sorry. For everything that happened. It's all 'cause of me."

"It's not. You've made mistakes, but you hold no responsibility in this." The words sound a bit harsh when they leave your mouth, and maybe you intended them to — because you need your words to get through to him. "Stop blaming yourself."

He isn't sure what to say anymore. His shoulders hang low, a certain uneasiness washing over him.

It's quiet for a while as you figure out the best way to approach this. "Once I've recovered fully, I still... I still won't have freedom. Still a superhuman, still forced to work for the government. Running away won't work, they'll find me wherever I go. Living like a fugitive isn't freedom either. So if I wanna keep going, and that's a big if, I need to somehow find my way back to the person I used to be, because I don't want — I can't live like this anymore."

It's quiet for a few seconds before you say what you need to say.

"Leon, I'm leaving."

The comforting smile on his face disappears in an instant. "What?"

Swallowing your anxiety, you fiddle with your hands. "With Simmons in custody and Lloyd fully becoming my supervisor, I... my biggest problem is dealt with. But it's not enough."

"What do you mean?"

Forcing yourself not to choke up, you shake your head to yourself, as if it will stop you from getting bawling your eyes out.

"Four years of torture, it does something to a person. The people who hurt me, they, uh... they tore me apart." You admit with a sad and shitty attempt for a smile, cursing your body for letting tears pool in the corner of your eyes. "They broke me all the way to my fucking core. My head, my mind, it's just... it feels like it shattered. Like I still don't have full control over myself. I don't know how to explain it. Point is that I don't know how to get that control back. Then there's the constant state of crippling anxiety I can't seem to get out of — you get the point."

Guilt rushes back to him again, even if you told him not to feel that way.

He keeps quiet.

"Lloyd has made the decision to pull me away from field work for the time being. I talked to Yoko about getting help a while ago — turns out she has an old friend living in her hometown in Japan who owns something like a temple turned sanatorium up in the mountains. A good place for recovery."

His voice finally comes back to him. "How long will you be gone for?"

Taking a deep breath, you shrug your shoulders. "I don't know yet. A long time, I think."

Leon nods with sad eyes, hoping he doesn't look as depressed as he feels right now.

Because he knows for a fact that you won't call him, you won't write to him, you won't contact him. You'll be isolating yourself from the life you have here completely.

So this is most likely the last time he's going to see you in a long time.

He inhales and his breath audibly hitches in his throat, as if he's about to choke up, and that lump in his throat agonizes him. He's supposed to stay strong here. It would be unfair to you not to.

But he can't help the tears silently spilling from his eyes, can't help his voice breaking in the middle of his sentence. "Would it be selfish of me if I said I didn't wanna lose you again?"

"You're not losing me."

He's trying to keep you from seeing his face, but you gently cup his cheek to turn his head to lock eyes with you.

Oh God, this is so much harder than you thought it would be.

You're on the verge of tears too once you look him in the eye. "Leon, I need this. We need this. We've been... so fucking abusive to each other. And that's not all it was, we've had so many good moments too, you saved my life — but that doesn't erase the toxicity of whatever our relationship is. We'd be insane to try to live our lives together like nothing happened."

He hates that you're right.

"Look where being apart got us before." He's terrified of losing you again, terrified of going right back to square one.

"I know that. But it'll be different this time." Your voice somehow remains steady while you cry. "I need you to understand that we can't be together if I don't heal first. I know you think you can fix me — I know you do, Leon, but — you can't. And that has nothing to do with the person you are, it just means I need a break from everything here. Go to a different place with different people."

And Leon understands. He sees why it would be good for you to be away from the violence and the bloodshed and everything surrounding it. This is what's best for you, and he wants you to be happy again, so he'll be the last person to deny you that.

You wrap your arms around him, and he sighs into your shoulder, shuddering in sadness as he pictures you walking out of his life.

"I'm gonna miss you." He whispers.

Hot tears brim his lashes. It hurts like hell. After years of being apart, he finally got you back, only for you to leave again.

But this isn't about him — it's about what's best for you. And he's happy that you'll get that taste of freedom again. He suddenly feels selfish for taking his own for granted.

"I'm gonna miss you too." You smile empathically, letting go of him, eyes burning with tears. "Just promise me one thing so at least I can leave peacefully."

"Okay."

"Don't feel guilty about what happened. I know you still do, but what Simmons did — it was never your fault."

You can see he wants to protest, but for your sake, he agrees. "Promise."

"Good." The word comes out of your mouth as a mumble, barely even audible. Then you feel your eyes watering again, so you bite your lip and press your forehead against his while your trembling fingers firmly intertwine with his. "I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm so sorry — I hate myself for everything I did."

His eyes are closed like yours as he holds back his sobs. "I know — it's okay, Sweetheart. I'm sorry too."

With pain in your chest, you move your head to the crook of his neck, muttering more apologies in his ear — because you have a lot to be sorry for, and you want him to know that you are.

It's hard to leave him. Possibly the hardest thing you've ever done. You've only taken several steps away from him and he grabs you by your fingers, making things even harder by making you look at his teary eyes.

"I know it's selfish — but I want a proper goodbye." He swallows, looking at the ground for a moment, doing his best to look you in the eye. "Please give me that."

Lip wobbling, you kiss him, feeling the most alive you have in a long time.

Once you release him, your hands remain on his cheeks. "You don't wait, okay? I need you to live your life, Leon, whether I'm by your side or not."

"Shut up." He breathes softly, silently crying as he grips your sides. "You know I'll be waiting for you when you come back."

His stubbornness makes you chuckle for a moment, after which you sniffle from the crying. "You're wasting your life on me, Kennedy."

"Good thing it's mine to waste, isn't it?" He asks, trying to hide his sadness with a joke, but the hurtful expression comes right back to his face once the words have left his mouth. "I love you so much. It drives me insane."

"I love you too."

You don't know how long you remain in his arms for, but you eventually force yourself to let go of him and stand up, walking away from your husband with a heavy heart.

But it's the right thing to do.

Leon watches you leave him, his view getting blurry from the tears welling up in his icy blues, and he rubs his eyes, choking out heavy sobs for a few minutes before steadying his breathing.

His head becomes clearer — and he figures he needs to make a call to a certain someone.

There's still unfinished business to be handled, after all.

Notes:

everyone lives simmons is defeated boom happy ending. y'all can sleep peacefully now.

well, technically next chapter is the ending. which will be uploaded in a few weeks time. i've written a big part of it already but there's still work to do. it'll be a long ass epilogue though that's for sure

this one was hard to write, i'm not gonna lie i feel like this one didn't do the 'build-up' to the final fight justice but i just didn't know anymore man. a girl's inspiration just runs out. but it's something!

anyway. thanks for reading and giving kudos and bookmarking and commenting. until the next update! 3

Chapter 40: Act II - 18. Fool Me Twice

Summary:

A reunion is in order, and final questions are answered.

Notes:

content warnings: very graphic descriptions of torture and gore, explicit sexual content, sickeningly wholesome relationship stuff, whole lotta dialogue and a whole lotta feelings, long final chapter shenanigans 3

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It's been a year.

A whole year since you left.

Leon has no idea how the hell he went through those four years without you. This one year has been lonelier than ever for him.

Everyone on the team could see it. After finally getting you back, he lost you again. While he didn't say it to anyone, everyone knew that he wasn't chasing anyone else solely because he still only had eyes for you and hoped that you'd eventually return to him.

He politely rejected the ladies at the agency asking him out, even with his flirty nature still being very much a part of his personality, though considerably less present whenever interacting with people outside of his close circle.

Nights began to feel longer, his difficulty sleeping increasing as he started having nightmares of you getting hurt. No matter what he did, he couldn't stop the echoes of your pained screams or the vision of you all cut up and bleeding running through his head.

After you left for Japan, he began to feel a small fraction of what you've felt over the years.

Self-doubt.

While Leon is not the type to worry about morality, he does wonder whether all of his actions have made him somewhat undeserving of happiness. Does he even deserve someone like you? Does he deserve the friends that's become his family at this point?

When he was younger, he wanted to do good. Truly. Make a difference in the world and everything.

And in a morally ambiguous way, he still wants to do that. But he wonders if he's too far gone — and that haunts him. Because he is the way he is. After everything he's done, he could never go back to the person he once was. If only his 19-year-old self would have known what he was in for when agreeing to that Umbrella deal.

Sometimes he finds himself wishing he wouldn't be able to feel any of it. He wishes he could be colder — but that's not him. Never has been.

He feels a lot. A lot of love, joy, gratitude. But his rage, loneliness, self-criticism and bitterness consumes him, as it has for a long time. Isn't that what he deserves? That's the price he has to pay, right?

It's his best friend who manages to squeeze his existential torment out of him while looking over the city lights from a high vantage point, only mere days after you left.

"You keep thinking like that — it'll drive you nuts." Lloyd tells him, adjusting the pair of glasses sitting on his nose, a small strand of blond hair covering his forehead.

Leon barely moves at all. "Someone once told me sanity is overrated. Can't help but agree."

The silence hits for a brief moment.

"Do me a favor, Leon." The man stares at the view in front of him, enjoying the sound and feeling of the cool breeze in the air. "Abandoning the past and becoming someone new? Someone better? Forget about that."

The statement catches him by surprise, but Leon realizes it makes perfect sense. For the both of them.

"Then what should I do?"

"Do what you're good at. That's one way to make a difference in the world."

"Who said I wanted to make a difference?"

"You didn't have to." He chuckles to himself. "I figured you out the day I met you in that interrogation room."

It's quiet for a second.

"The fuck you did."

"Alright, fine, I partially figured you out that day."

"Asshole." They laugh at the stupidity of the situation, and Leon realizes he's truly got all the people he needs in his life. And perhaps finally, after so long, he likes that. And he's grateful.

He'd almost call himself happy. Almost.

Then he bites his lip before speaking up again. "When are they moving him?"

"Two days. One black site to another."

"You feel like helping?"

"Normally I wouldn't... but perhaps I will this time."

He chuckles curtly. Leon uses his lighter for the blunt that now sits between his lips. "That's gonna be fun."

"Do I even want to know what you're planning on doing to him?"

Leon laughs wryly, exhaling. Usually that laugh of his means he's up to no good. "No, you don't. Might make you lose your appetite."

"Alright." He says, putting his hand on his shoulder, giving him a final piece of his mind. "Make it count."

That he will.

And so, two days later, Derek Simmons is reported as missing, no longer in the custody of the CIA — and he finds himself in an abandoned garage in the middle of nowhere instead.

Leon sits down on the chair in front of him, knees apart and one arm leaning back lazily, looking down on the bloody, pathetic man in front of him. "Welcome to your new home."

"Where the hell am I?"

"Somewhere no one will find you. Not that anyone will come looking, of course." He waves with his hand, his fingerpads touching one another. "No family, no wife — how shocking — I highly doubt a narcissist has any real friends, so the only person missing you is probably the guy who does your dirty work, considering you pay him for it."

But before the man in front of him can interject, the agent leans forward.

"Actually, he won't be looking for you either. He's a little too busy fighting for his own life. So it looks like you're all alone."

The guy is either a great actor or just doesn't care — because he shrugs his shoulders in response. "I already assumed you were gonna kill me."

"Correct." Leon nods, then tilts his head. "Except that's not all I'm gonna do to you. I killed you once. Sort of, anyway. And I'll do it again, but this time, I'll make you beg for it first."

"Torture?" The man scoffs. "You're gonna have to do better than that to make me beg."

The hint of a smile of excitement rises to his face while he's putting a black glove on his right hand. "So everyone says before getting tortured."

He moves to take the bucket behind his chair, taking some of the mixture into the palm of his hand, right before putting it onto the open wound on his leg — and it's the first time he hears Derek Simmons scream.

It won't be the last.

"You know what salt water does to a wound, right?" He asks rhetorically, almost displaying a cheshire cat-like grin, feeding on the pain of his worst enemy. "Stings like a bitch."

Simmons writhes in pain, clenching his jaw before uttering a sentence with a strained voice. "The moment I get out of here, I'll m—"

"The moment you get out?" Leon interrupts him, not even bothering to let him finish, forcing himself to suppress the sadistic laughter bubbling up to the surface from the depths of his chest. "Funny."

He gets up from his chair, getting rid of the plastic glove, pursing his lips. The guy finally remains quiet for once.

"You just couldn't help yourself from recording everything when you hurt her — meaning I know exactly what you did and how you did it. Every single thing you did to her... I'm gonna do to you. You think I'll stop once you beg for me to kill you?"

Simmons spits some of the blood in his mouth out onto the floor, chuckling silently. "She still won't want you. She'll always want power, she thrives off it."

"Yeah? So do I." Leon shrugs, suddenly grabbing the man by his cheeks, making him look up. "Don't try to manipulate me. I've accepted that I'm not a good man, and frankly I don't give a shit. But I can do good in the world... by getting rid of scum like you. And you get the honor of being first on the list."

"I should've shot that bitch when I had the chance."

"Had you done that, you would've been even worse off." Leon says, immediately cutting him off. "She will live and move on from the hell you put her through, and you will die, alone, weak, and miserable. Erased from the world like some nobody. I'll make sure it'll be like you never existed in the first place."

Before the sick fuck in question can express the rising fear in his eyes, his worst enemy makes a final statement — for now, at least.

Grabbing the man's face roughly, grip so tight that it hurts him, Leon's voice is reduced to a vicious whisper. "Oh, and don't forget to smile at the camera, you son of a bitch."

Simmons made those tapes of you when you were the one being tortured — so Leon figures it's only reasonable for him to pull the same stunt.

Those slight psychotic tendencies will never leave him, but he welcomes them at this point, because he wouldn't have it any other way.

The abuse Leon makes him endure is heavy. Everything is documented. The way he screams, drifts in and out of consciousness, suffers from starvation and lack of sleep — the list goes on.

It's not all his work. He has about three men he trusts well enough to get the job done, they rotate shifts to keep watch and torture the asshole. No off days.

He very carefully chooses which scientists are guilty regarding your treatments. Those who encouraged the experiments pay for it with their lives. He simply doesn't have the time to torture all of them. Too much of a hassle.

So he just makes sure to have them die slow and painful deaths instead.

Eventually, after months of daily torture, Simmons still being alive — the only one left for that matter — begins to irk him. The maiming and hurting was fun in the beginning, and while it's still gratifying, it's like it's slowly beginning to corrupt him, and he just wants the fucker dead.

For good.

He's thought long and hard about the best way to kill the man off. Use a torture machine to drill through his lung? Decapitation? Drowning? He has connections to the Italian mafia — maybe they've got some fun new methods for him to try out.

When the man has been in his captivity for nine months, Leon grows so sick of it that he decides it's time for him to die.

Simmons wakes up, tired from a lack of sleep, only to smell something different in his surroundings. He's already hardly able to tell where exactly he is anymore. Days go by like a blur for him now.

His limbs, which are covered in deep cuts, stitches, bruises and scars at this point, are covered in something — sweat? No, it's something else.

Gasoline.

It then hits him that he's not alone. Someone is visiting him for the first time in a long time.

With a lighter that has his name engraved on it clutched in the palm of his hand, Leon stands a few feet away from him, wearing his best three-piece suit, his other hand sitting lazily in his pocket.

A sharp contrast to the thick, red blood splashed on his neck and chin.

"I told you back at that train station you'd die by my hands." He says, voice stable and monotone. "And you will. Today."

Simmons, being as disoriented as he is, takes an awfully long time to understand what he means. It finally comes to him when he hears the flick of his lighter.

"No, no, no—Kennedy, we can work something out, I can—I can give you money, all the money you want—"

"I already took all your money. I took everything you had." The agent in charge shrugs as if it's the simplest thing, not a single emotion on his face. "Now, all that's left is your life."

He flicks his lighter again.

The sound is like a trigger. The man in the chair begs, and Leon is pretty sure he'd get on his knees if he could.

"Any other way. It's been years—you've tortured me for years. Please, please, just—use something else, like a gun, or—or a knife! Anything!"

He's gone so insane that he thinks he's been here for a decade. Pathetic.

Leon flicks the lighter for the last time.

"The heartless don't deserve a quick death. When it comes to people like you — it's necessary to regard the endurance of pain as the measure of worth."

He throws the piece of silver onto the trail of gasoline, and it takes a mere minute before the man he hates the most is burning alive, screaming in pain, the sound echoing through the space.

His hands are bloody when he stares at the fire, and he leans against the pillar, feeling as if weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

About three months later, marking a year since your departure, it's Yoko who brings up your name in the conversation for the first time in a long time.

"Why don't you go there and visit her? See how she's doing now?"

Leon immediately shakes his head. "No."

"What's stopping you?"

"She made it clear she wanted to heal on her own. No contact with any of us. It feels wrong to just pop up by her front door—"

"I talked to Yuri, you know, the owner of the sanatorium," she intervenes, "who proceeded to tell me she misses us — you in particular."

"Oh." He doesn't really know how to respond to that. His fingers tap on the table repeatedly as he ponders over it. "Do you think she'd be happy to see me?"

"Are you kidding? She loves you, Kennedy."

"Our relationship is not that simple."

"I know that. But I doubt it would do much harm to show up, tell her you love her and dip."

"Such a way with words."

"Thank you."

Leon rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee, the silence turning his tone into a serious one. "Do you really think she'd be okay with it?"

"I think it would do her a lot of good." She nods, expression genuine, and Leon inhales sharply, feeling awfully nervous all of a sudden.

The first thing he does after the coffee break is book a flight ticket.

A few days later, as he's just hopped off the plane, about to gather his luggage, he feels like this is what a mid-life crisis must be like.

Because he just can't seem to shake off this... insecurity bubbling inside his chest. Maybe you don't even want to see him. Maybe you're finally happy, being free of him. Hell, maybe you're with someone else. Someone who gives you the healthy and happy relationship you've always wanted and deserved.

He'd never hold it against you if you did find love with someone else. You're not his.

Even though his heart would actually shatter if you did.

Minor detail.

Christmas is next week. He finds it a loathsome holiday when you barely have anyone to spend it with. Maybe he'll just go to work.

Nervousness clouds his mind. He's in a foreign country of which he doesn't speak the language that well — even though he's remarkably good in his pronunciation, especially for a foreigner — and he'll finally get to see you again.

After getting off the tram, he feels the snow crunching underneath his boots, snowflakes softly coating his hair and shoulders. It's already dark out, the sun's gone down, and he's fucking starving.

It's unbelievably quiet here. A good kind of quiet though.

While he walks past a closing shop, an elderly lady calls out to him. She asks him what he's doing here.

I'm looking for someone, he says with the kindest smile he can muster. He doesn't like his smile.

She begins to explain something, but he politely interrupts her, telling her he only understands a bit of Japanese. He really should've brushed up on it more before coming here.

Instead of giving her the name of the temple, he opts for showing a photo of you. Considering it's a relatively small village, the chances of her knowing you should be high.

And the lady does seem to recognize you. She nods repeatedly, gesturing for him to follow her.

She points to the end of the street, and from what he understands, she's telling him the directions to go to some kind of cafe. You must visit it frequently if she's telling you to go there.

He thanks her and continues to follow the directions.

There's only few people out on the streets, including some kids playing in the snow, and he notices the looks he's getting. Yoko did tell him there's rarely any foreigners visiting the village, which he doesn't really understand, because it looks like a wonderful place.

So he tries not to look weird as he musters the courage to step inside the cafe the old lady pointed to.

God, he's so fucking anxious.

Suddenly, he detects motion behind him, but before he can even check it, he hears a familiar voice.

"Am I dreaming or is that you, Kennedy?"

He doesn't turn around immediately, mentally pinching himself first. It's the first time hearing your voice since the day you left.

So when he does turn to face you, he tries to look casual. Truly. But the parting of his lips and the widening of his eyes just happens subconsciously, features softening.

Your hair looks smooth and shiny, your cheeks are flushed from the cold and your skin is clear and soft-looking. While you're wearing a little bit of simple makeup, he sees you made no effort to cover the scar on your face, unlike a year before, even though it's never been one of your insecurities from what he's gathered.

You look gorgeous. Healthy.

"Hi. I was in the neighborhood. Figured I'd stop by." He jokes, making you smile. It's been so long since the last time he saw you smile.

"I can't believe you're here. Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"I just... wasn't sure if you wanted me to come."

Seeing the way he's subtly trying to avoid eye contact, you spot his nervousness, and it warms your heart, in a way. He stiffens up when you move to hug him tightly, his brain shortcutting for a moment, but then he hugs you back, feeling the most at peace he'll ever be.

"I missed you."

"Missed you too." He mutters, and once you release him, he twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers, faintly catching the smell of your shampoo. "You look great."

"Thanks. So do you — Geez, have you been working out more?" You ask, impressed when you tap on his arm with your finger, able to feel how much muscle he's gained, even through the thickness of his coat.

The sudden sound of feet shuffling in the snow catches his attention, so he looks down to find a little girl hiding behind you, one of her hands clasped on your leg.

Lord, that might as well have been a gremlin.

"That's a child." He points out, which has you chortling while gently putting your hand on the little girl's back.

"You certainly don't miss much, do you?" You ask rhetorically, cracking up at the way your husband behaves around children. "She's not mine, obviously. Yuri's daughter."

Of course she's not yours. The girl looks about five years old and you only left for a year. Right.

Still gave him a solid heart attack, though.

The girl is bold enough to introduce herself to Leon after you've encouraged her, and you watch the exchange with a smile before she runs back to her mother at the other end of the street.

Then you shift your focus back to him.

"I'm glad you're here." You tell him, smiling at him.

"Me too." Leon blushes at your words. "Things haven't been the same without you."

It's quiet as you both stare at one another in awe. God, he's so utterly handsome. His good looks still have you blushing as much as the night you met. It's hard to believe that was five years ago now.

"Then you better tell me everything." You break the silence by touching his arm. "C'mon. Let's go get warmed up. I'm cold and starving."

So you take him inside the cafe he was about to step into just minutes ago. It's a cozy, relatively small place with about seven or eight tables, only two of them currently occupied. It's way past dinner time, yet he still hasn't had any.

And it looks like you're good friends with the man behind the counter, who gives you a raised brow and a funny look once he sees him with you. You gesture for Leon to pick a table as you talk to your acquaintance, ordering some food for the two of you.

Then you sit down in front of him, and he suddenly doesn't know what to do with himself. What should he do? He hates small talk. What the hell is even the appropriate thing to say in a situation like this? God, why didn't he think this over when he was on the plane? His nerves certainly aren't helping either.

"Why do you look like that?"

The question catches him off guard. "Like what?"

"Like you're about to confess your sins in church." You snort, teasing him. "And we both know that it's a long list in your case."

He rolls his eyes at you, mimicking your words from a year ago for the hell of it. "You sure know how to woo a guy, don't ya?"

"Apparently I do, otherwise you wouldn't be here."

He leans back in his seat. "Hey, who said I came here for you?"

"What else could you possibly be here for?"

"The cuisine. Culture. Snow. You name it, Sweetheart."

His sarcastic responses have you laughing, crossing your arms over your chest when you realize how much you've missed him. "How did you even know where to find me? Did you just stumble upon this place by accident?"

Leon shakes his head. "No, I asked some lady on the street where to find you."

That makes you furrow your brows a little. "Really? Barely anyone here speaks English."

"I asked her in Japanese."

Tilting your head at him, the surprise is audible in your voice. "You're fluent?"

"I know some of the basics. Learned it when I was still working for Umbrella, so it's a little rusty."

"How many languages do you even speak at this point?"

"Lost count." He shrugs, not thinking that much of it. Your conversation is interrupted when the waiter puts a wooden platter onto your table, after which you both thank him before he walks off again.

With the steam still coming off of the food, you point at the dishes. "Which one do you want?"

God, everything looks good. The thick noodles, salty soup and tasty vegetables make his mouth water. He's always liked foods from foreign countries. It certainly beats the vast majority of what he can get in the States. "Wanna share?"

"Sure." You say, grabbing the chopsticks, eager to start eating.

He mimicks your actions and starts with a bite of ramen.

While you don't say it out loud, it kind of feels like a date. You haven't seen each other in a long time and it almost feels like you're getting to know the other again. Besides, you don't think you've ever had a real date with him, so it's nice to have this.

"How is everyone? The team?" You ask before taking a bite.

"They're good. Really good, actually. Yoko and Lloyd got engaged."

Your jaw drops, but the shock is a good one. "Really?"

The corners of his mouth faintly curl up as he chews his food. "Really."

"When?"

"Three months after you left, I think?"

"Wow. That's so cute! Oh my God, I should send them a gift or something."

Leon huffs. "What's less cute is that Neal met my sister."

You look at him in disbelief, then lean closer before you're practically whispering to him. "Neal is dating Sarah?"

"Mhm." And he sees you pressing your lips together in order to contain yourself. "No. Don't even say it."

"That means..."

"Doll."

"... Neal's gonna be your brother-in-law."

"Shut up."

It's then that you laugh at him, covering your mouth. Even his own cheeks hurt from trying to stop himself from smiling when he looks at your happy face.

So once you've stopped laughing at your poor husband, you wave with your hand. "Oh, c'mon. Be glad it's him. He'll take good care of her."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Don't tell him I said that, by the way."

"Wouldn't dare." You chuckle, taking a sip of the soup. "Did Sarah finish uni?"

Leon nods. "Yeah, but she's planning on getting a PhD, so she's gonna be busy for a while."

"For real? That's impressive." He nods as soon as the words leave your mouth, clearly proud of his little sister. It's endearing. You watch him take another bite of one of the dishes. "And you?"

"What about me?"

"Well, what have you been up to for the past year?"

His lips twist together as he thinks of a proper answer. Telling you that he's pretty much only committed a whole list of heinous crimes and watched Grey's Anatomy in his spare time doesn't sound very appealing as of right now.

So he shrugs, ever so subtle, breaking eye contact with you. "Nothing really worth mentioning. Lots of work. The usual. You know how it is."

"Hm." You hum, eyes narrowing, a clear sign of disbelief. "Tell me something, Leon."

There's a sudden intensity in your gaze, and the playfulness you had in your voice mere seconds ago is currently nowhere to be found.

So he's intrigued, naturally. "What?"

"What'd you do to him?"

You don't even have to say the name for him to know who you're talking about. He bites the inside of his cheek before giving you his answer. "Do you really wanna know?"

"I can handle it, if that's what you're concerned about."

One corner of his mouth curves up into a small but visible smirk. Taking his phone from his pocket, you see him tapping on the screen a few times, and then he puts it on the table, in front of you.

Even without sound, the tapes are horrifying — or they should be. You shouldn't enjoy watching a man you used to know getting tortured like this, but goddamn does it elicit a chuckle from you.

It's probably very wrong for you and your husband to sit here, watching your abuser get abused himself, begging for the mercy he'll never receive with smiles on your faces, but neither of you care anymore.

It's a cruel world, after all.

"Don't worry. He's been dead for a while." Leon tells you as you give him his phone back.

"How long did you keep him alive? A month? Two?"

That spark in his eyes is enough for you to know you're wrong.

"Eight."

Your jaw drops. "You tortured him for eight months?"

"I left most of it to my watchmen. They owed me and I paid them well. They know what happens to them if they don't do what they get paid for." He answers with a straight face. "Besides, I kept the guy alive for so long because he had more dirt on some people in very high places. Win-win. I was initially going to torture him for as long as possible — but one of my watchmen couldn't handle it anymore after seven months, and it's not like there was much left of the guy anyways, so... yeah."

"I seriously think you might secretly be a mob boss."

"Not really my style." He jokes, and you roll your eyes at him. "Though I might just be as rich as one."

Narrowing your eyes out of confusion, he smirks a little as he recalls the memory.

"Are you sure this is it? It's just a bunch of containers."

"Oh, yeah. Definitely." Yoko says, lifting her finger when she thinks of that man you and her met at that little pawnshop in Seattle before everything went down, because he said something about Simmons taking a few shipping containers with him.

The four of them walk through the warehouse, checking the inside of every single one of them, but they're mostly just greeted with dust and dirt.

Once Neal lets out an excited chuckle at the other side of the dusty space, Leon raises his brow and turns his head. "Holy shit. The fuckin' mother lode, guys."

They walk over to him, and the sight of it is something right out of a movie.

Plates of shiny, heavy gold — too many to count — with several stacks of hundred dollar bills, presumably stolen paintings of great value, precious artifacts—

"Jesus Christ." Yoko breathes out, unable to take her eyes off it.

"What the fuck kind of business was that dude in that he got this stuff just lying around?"

"Whatever it was... it's not his anymore."

"This... these are probably all stolen goods. That means we should hand it over to... the authorities. Right?"

They all hesitantly agree with Yoko's words for a moment — but not really — and she doesn't actually agree with herself here, either.

Neal presses his lips together, his thick brows raised. "Aren't... aren't we the authorities?"

Leon remains silent, a very puzzled look on his face, after which the three of them turn to look at the man in charge for an answer.

Twisting his mouth and moving his jaw, Lloyd pushes the pair of glasses further up on the bridge of his nose. "It's worth a lot. Several millions, I'm guessing, if not more."

"Probably."

"And we would definitely all get fired if anyone in the agency ever found out we took it."

"Debatable."

"Then again, they'd have to actually find out about it first."

"Indeed."

A pause.

"Doing this would make me a criminal."

Neal nods, closing his eyes for a moment as he touches Lloyd's shoulder, pretending to comfort him. "It had to happen someday, boss. Might as well gain somethin' from it."

The oldest of the group huffs. "You're all bad influences."

"Undoubtedly."

He bites his lip and tries to suppress the rising smile on his face. "Well, if we wanna keep this hidden, we might wanna get to work."

And they all laugh cheerfully at their boss, dragging him into the celebration, because they just officially became rich. Insanely rich.

You gasp at the story. "No fucking way. But where did you hide the gold and all the other stolen stuff?"

Leon looks over his shoulder from the corner of his eye, then leans closer to you. "I'll show you sometime."

"You're no fun."

He can't help the laugh that escapes his mouth at the pout on your face. It makes you feel a little giddy for some reason. Hearing him laugh is something wonderful you want to get used to again.

"Don't worry. You'll get your cut."

"I appreciate it."

He smiles at you before his tone becomes stern and serious. "I made sure to make him pay. It won't get you those years back or undo the damage he did, but... he sure as hell suffered for it."

Once you've processed everything he said, you smile to yourself. 'Cause he's right. Despite the pain and trauma it left you, everything has finally changed for the better.

Leon has got to be the only high-functioning insane person you know. Next to yourself, of course. Though you weren't exactly high-functioning before.

He's still waiting to hear you actually voicing your thoughts about the whole ordeal, but he doesn't have to much longer.

Because you giggle all of a sudden, internally going nuts about the fact that you've gotten yourself a man who would go to these kind of lengths for you. "Remind me to kiss you when we're out of here."

"I'm holding you to that."

The conversation flows so naturally. Leon feels at ease with you again, his nerves gone and forgotten and flirty nature back as if it never left.

"Alright, enough about me. What about you? How have you been doing? What was coming here like?"

A sigh escapes your mouth. "Well, I'm not gonna lie, it was really tough in the beginning. I didn't know what to do with myself, I felt homesick, kept wondering if coming here was the right decision, the fact that I didn't speak the language was certainly not helping..."

He nods, gesturing for you to keep going. He likes hearing you talk.

"Things got better once I got more familiar with the area and the people. They essentially all taught me the language, I started to work on having a well-balanced weekly routine with working out, eating better, going to several therapy sessions — I got a part-time job at the bookstore, but I'm essentially doing it for free. And there's a beautiful lake nearby, and it's got this little spot that's kind of reminiscent of a cave entrance, it's a perfect place to sit when it's raining."

Leon watches you in awe. It's so blatantly obvious that you're much happier now. You smile so much, so brightly, and it actually reaches your eyes, which in turn makes him happy.

Yet at the same time, that one damn question keeps going through his head.

Is it because you've always been better off without me?

So he tries to shake his thoughts off. "Anyone on your mind these days? Met someone here?"

"Nah. Self-care, my friend."

He laughs at your words and movements. You seem to have returned to your playful nature, considering you've been so cold and distant for such a long time.

He must've been staring at you a little too long, because you're raising your brow at him. "Kennedy."

"Hm?"

"Spit it out."

"Spit what out?"

"Your food." You deadpan, and when he sits there dumbfounded, you take his glass out of his hand and put it back on the table. "What do you think, cowboy? Whatever's on your mind. It's bugging me and I know for a fact it's bugging you too."

He can't just outright tell you what he feels. It wouldn't be fair to you, and besides, he's not here to take you back to the States, he's here to see how you're doing.

"I just... I missed you. A lot. And it's nice to see that you're doing better."

The thing is — you are doing better. Simmons is out of your life for good and the pressure of the way you used to live has been lifted from your shoulders. Life has actually become, dare you say it, enjoyable.

You're happier. A bit lonely at times, but happier. Even if you're still dealing with your traumatic experiences.

But Leon looks worse. He looks tired, worn out. Something is really bothering him. You can tell.

You suddenly feel like heading out into the snow, so once both of you finish your food, you both put your coats back on and exit the cafe.

The town looks like something out of a movie. The path in front of you is illuminated by the yellow streetlights, the creaky, wooden structure of the bridge covered in a thick layer of snow.

As you walk with him, you point out where your friends live, where you take your daily walks, where you can get the best food, where you nearly tripped and fell on your face, and he finds it all very entertaining.

Eventually, you find yourself all the way at the other side of town, which is where the lake is located. The moon shines brightly, showing how big it is, and you tilt your head. "You'd be surprised how clear the water is during the spring and summer. It's better in the winter though, 'cause now I can skate on it."

"You been doing that a lot?"

"Yeah. Been working on my technique, try out harder manoeuvres — I'm trying to teach myself the axel." You excitedly tell him, and when he seems intrigued, you suddenly get an idea. "You know how to skate, Kennedy?"

"A little."

"Wanna test it out?"

"Is the ice thick enough for that?"

"No. Matter of fact, I only suggested it so we could fall through it, into the cold water, and test our survival skills." You deadpan, making him scoff. "Yes, Leon, it's thick enough."

Out of a wooden cabinet nearby, you take your own skates and a pair that match his size.

"Aren't you charming." He mentions, taking the pair from you to put them on, making sure the laces are tight enough, and he's already got them on as you're still getting ready.

He then steps onto the ice and, surprisingly enough, skates off like he's been doing it his whole life.

You watch him with a furrowed brow, then a smile rises to your face. "Why didn't you tell me you were so good at this?"

He feels a little pride surge through him, turning to face you, all while skating backwards.

"You never asked."

Even though he played ice hockey as a kid, he hardly ever skated again until recently.

Truth is, once you left, he felt a sudden urge to try it out — so he now often frequents the rink you used to practice in. It makes him feel weirdly at peace, and it's more fun than going to the gym anyways.

You finally get on the ice as well, and he urges you to show off those tricks you've been working on. He's very focused as he watches you, encourages you, and you laugh all while putting up a little show for him.

"Once I get better at it, I might make a whole routine." You tell him a while later, running a hand through your hair, which is damp from sweat. "Think I got potential?"

"I think you're underestimating your talents. You're incredible."

"Don't lie just to get bonus points with me, Kennedy." You playfully poke him in the chest as you move to skate off, but he's faster, circling around you only to let his skates come to an abrupt halt as he's right in front of you again.

"I'm not lying, Doll."

That damn nickname. It still makes your heart jump the way it did when he first used it.

The air is thick as you feel his gloved hand brushing past yours, heat rushing to your cheeks. "No one's called me that in a long time."

He blinks a few times, then tilts his head. "Have you missed it?" Have you missed me? This? Us?

"A little." A lot.

Leon hums to himself, backing away from you to allow you and himself to take the skates off again.

So a little while later, you stroll through the quiet, snowy streets with him, a strangely comforting yet unnerving feeling sinking into your gut.

"I get why you like it here." He hums softly, his hands stuffed into his pockets to keep them warm. "It's so quiet."

"Peaceful, right?" You respond with a smile. "Living here really made me realize I could never live in a big city. So crowded. Oh, you should've seen this place in the summer. Flowers blooming, the lake you can swim in, waterfalls by the rocks at the other side — it's lovely."

Cute, he thinks.

Leon tries not to let his curiosity get the better of him. "Do you consider this your home now?"

"One of them, yeah." Even you can feel what he wants to ask but won't, so you tilt your head to yourself and put it out there. "Are you here to ask me to come back?"

"No." He shakes his head, a snowflake landing on his lashes. "When you decide to come back is up to you."

"What if I don't ever want to?"

Oh, shit. That's exactly what he's feared since the minute you told him you were leaving. "Ever?"

"Why would I? There's nothing left for me in the States anyway. I could live the rest of my life here perfectly fine."

He tries to ignore the way his heart is slowly but painfully tearing itself in two. This truly is his worst nightmare becoming reality.

Or so he thought.

A playful smile gradually appears on your face out of nowhere, and he realizes you were kidding. "Wow. I hate you."

"Oh my God, you looked so scared!"

"I—did not."

"Nice try. You looked terrified, mister."

"Terrified is a reach—"

"I think we both know the truth, don't we?" You laugh, pointing your finger at the both of you.

He tilts his head a bit, as if he's trying to take a better look at you. "Do you?"

"I like to think that I do."

He scoffs wryly and softly. He says nothing.

That's when you stop walking, holding him back by grabbing his arm. "What's that mean?"

Shit. It's way too soon. He wasn't planning on saying anything today. He's so impulsive around you that it annoys him.

"I, uh... I didn't say anything?"

When he narrows his eyes to himself out of disbelief of his own words, you scowl and punch his upper arm, to which he huffs in pain. "Leon Scott Kennedy, if you don't tell me—"

"Goddamn, woman, have you forgotten your super strength?"

His exaggeration has you rolling your eyes. He's beating around the bush now, trying to change the subject, but you won't let him. "I'm serious. Tell me. And don't even try giving me that 'nothing' bullshit."

"I just..." He shrugs a little. What is he supposed to say? That he wants to spend the rest of his life with you? That he needs you? He doesn't want to come across as selfish, even though he very much is. "I don't wanna ruin the moment, I don't want you to think that I only came here because—"

He cuts himself off, closing his eyes for a second, his head hanging low.

"Is there someone else?"

That has him frowning, looking back up at you, utterly appalled at your insinuation. "What?"

"That's what you're trying to tell me, isn't it? You have someone else back home." You nod as if you're genuinely convinced of your own words, shoulders sagging just a bit in disappointment. "Listen, Leon... I get it, I never told you to wait for me so I—I won't hold it against you, I'd never hold you away from—"

Your rambling drowns out in the background when he shakes his head, looking at you in complete disbelief. He bites his lip as you're still talking, still trying to reassure him that he can move on if he wants to without having to feel guilty, as if you're not the one person he'd do absolutely everything for.

So he cups your face and kisses you. It's hungry, sloppy, greedy. He's so damn greedy when it comes to you, and he's insatiable.

He backs you up against a tree, and once you start touching his chest for more, he attemps to stop kissing you, especially when you keep moving forward to press your lips onto his again. A chuckle of amusement escapes his mouth and heat rises to his cheeks. "Shit. Sweetheart, I—I wanna do this right. Just..."

A moment of silence occurs as he lets two of his fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, admiring your pretty eyes looking up at his.

Leon takes a deep breath and pours his heart out. "That night in Raccoon, I was gonna do my job like always and you — you bumped into me and you turned my night into both the worst and best one I've ever experienced. I didn't know it was possible to love someone this much, especially in such a short span of time, but it just... happened. And God do you have every reason and every right to despise me for what I did — but I know that I still—I'm incapable of falling out of love with you. I kept asking myself, y'know, what is it about this woman? Why the hell can't I stop thinking about her? But she's so lovely, even when she commits brutal murder right in front of my face, she's so special to me — so special. You are special to me."

He breathes out from the rambling, hardly noticing he's taken your hands in his. His voice cracks in the middle of his confession, and your eyes soften as he further elaborates his feelings for you.

"Look, I know that every time we were together, it ended up in disaster. Mostly 'cause of me. But I also know that I regret everything that's happened and I want nothing more than to leave that all behind and start off with a clean slate. Maybe it's selfish of me to ask you to even consider it, but—"

"It's not." You reassure him. "And I believe I'm also to blame for what happened between us. No matter what everyone else says."

His nerves are visible for once. A rare thing. "If you don't wanna be with me anymore, then I'll respect that and I won't bother you about it again. I'd never force you into anything with me or deny you your own happiness."

He can be so stupid sometimes, you think to yourself. Is his judgement truly so clouded by his insecurities?

"And what if I do?" You ask him.

"Then, I... we should probably start by taking things slow. For real this time. You know — go on actual dates and stuff." He chuckles awkwardly.

"Dates and stuff?"

Once he sees you're teasing him, he decides to do the same. "Yeah. You know. Having dinner together. Maybe I can read books to you, or we could make one of the recipes out of that cookbook I never use, and then we end up in bed because the only meal I need is your—"

"Do not even finish that sentence. Oh my God." You tell him off, and he shrugs again as if he's innocent when you both know the fucker is anything but.

"Hey, did you forget a certain promise you made me?"

You roll your eyes. "Did I, Mr. Incapable-of-falling-out-of-love-with-me?"

"What? Sarah made me watch Pride and Prejudice. She said girls love the sappy stuff."

"You're just a hopeless romantic like the rest of us, Kennedy. Admit it."

"Maybe a little." He admits, arm snaking around your waist, smoothly and subtly as ever. "C'mon. Give me what you promised."

"As if you didn't just make out with me against a tree." You laugh while your hand gently grabs a hold of his chin and jaw when you stand on your toes to plant a kiss on his cheek, lips lingering on his skin longer than they should.

And you finally kiss him properly again. He sighs into it, pulling your body closer to his.

Then you release him, because it's late and you should both catch some sleep. His gaze is soft, relaxed and full of adoration. He watches you with half-lidded eyes.

Pretty girl. His pretty girl.

Pressing your lips together, you loop your arm around his, walking with him like you would with a lover. "C'mon. I still gotta show you my place."

He snorts. "I actually booked a hotel in case you were gonna reject me."

"Even if I had rejected you, I wouldn't have let you sleep in a hotel."

"Oh, I would've. Couldn't have you listening in on me bawling my eyes out." He admits with a bit of sarcasm. You laugh, mocking a sad voice, and he pinches your side. "Be nice to me, baby."

"You like me better like this."

Leon tries to fight the rising smile on his face at first, but then he doesn't. It's not like he has or wants to hide it anyways. "Yeah. I do."

With you happily telling him all about some memories you've made here, he listens carefully, asks you all kinds of questions, engaging in the conversation, and he feels good. Great, actually.

Happy. Makes him feel all warm and smiley and shit.

But he tries not to get lost in it all too much once you've stepped into one of the traditional Japanese-looking houses, with its wooden veranda and shades of an oak brown color catching his attention. You guide him through the two-story apartment, showing him around.

"This is a nice place." He murmurs. "It's all yours?"

"Yup. All mine. Yuri wanted me to have enough space, so..." You shrug your shoulders, leaning against the doorpost.

Maybe you should be ashamed of the way your eyes look him up and down the very second he's finally turned his back to you. It's not something he does often, so when he does, you savor it.

It shouldn't come as a surprise that he's wearing a suit again. It's hard to ever find him without one. You notice that it's one of his favorites, and it makes you wonder whether he wore it on purpose.

It's so weird to be with him like this.

Even though you knew you missed him, having him here, in the same room as you — it hits especially hard, because that means you'll also have to say goodbye again.

He walks around, noticing the way you've decorated your little home. It's cozy, lots of lamps with soft lights and warm tones, contrasting your apartment back in the States.

His focus then shifts from the framed pictures on the wall back to you. "You okay?"

"Yeah." You answer with rosy cheeks, feeling awfully sentimental for some reason. "Just missed you a lot."

Leon isn't exactly the most expressive person, but he might as well be with the tight hug he gives you, lifting you up from the floor, pressing kisses to your cheek. "Missed you too. So much. Things haven't been the same without you."

"For better or worse?" You rhetorically ask, chuckling to yourself, and he rolls his eyes, taking his coat, shoes and gloves off to put them away.

"Oh, so much better. Really. It's fantastic."

"You're hilarious."

"Yes, thank you."

"Do you want coffee or tea?"

"Coffee."

So you make him a cup of coffee, a cup of tea for yourself, and then find yourself sitting at the small table with him.

It's hard to tell how much time passes by — you've got so much to catch up on with eachother.

"Christmas is next week." You mention, tapping your nails against the cup. "You got plans yet?"

He smiles at you and takes a sip from his lukewarm coffee, excited to be staying here with you for a while.

Once you glance at the clock up on the wall and notice it's about three in the morning, you take the initiative to go to bed, and so he comes with you.

He walks up the stairs with you, puts his bag near your closet, and about half an hour later, he's lying next to you in what's probably the most comfortable bed he's ever slept in.

The past hours he's spent with you felt awfully domestic. Of course you've done similar things before, but it still felt so different — this is more relaxed. He feels more at ease. It's nice.

You let out a content sigh once the lights are off.

"Hey, Sweetheart?" His voice is soft and quiet.

"Yeah?"

"I, um... I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. For... for everything."

"What, Raccoon?"

"Not just that. For the way I acted towards you when we saw each other again after being apart for four years, for—"

"Leon. It's okay. You need to start acknowledging that it's my fault as well that our relationship got so toxic again. I'm guilty too."

"But you're not." He whispers into your neck. "I had a whole year to think about what you said, that they tore you apart day by day. I know you told me not to feel guilty, but how could I not? I am responsible for getting you hurt, and I was so scared that maybe you would...you would hurt yourself again. That it would all be my fault. I tried to drown it out by torturing Simmons every day, I did, but at a certain point it just didn't—"

You wrap your arms around him, hoping it'll help him steady his breathing. "Listen to me. I don't blame you for what happened. Neither should you, it wasn't your doing. At the end of the day, it's Simmons who forced me into daily torture. That wasn't on you."

"But you are forced to work for the government 'cause of me."

"Yeah. But if we hadn't gone down that path, things would've hardly been any different. Either I would've died in Raccoon or we would've still been living like fugitives, which I doubt because sooner or later they would've caught us anyway — and yes, you did bad things, but I forgave you for that."

"I guess so." He mutters.

He's so utterly tired, and honestly, you drove yourself nuts with guilt at first, too. "We both made mistakes. But none of it matters anymore — as long as we don't do it again. We have an opportunity to start over, you know, from the beginning. Act like normal people and all that."

A soft laugh escapes him. "We've never been normal though."

"Nope. But it sounds fun, from what I've heard."

"I can do normal. To an extent, anyway." He adds cheekily, winking at you before you roll your eyes.

"I'm not sure I can do the whole... build a family, white picket fence thing, though. In our line of work, with me still being... a superhuman, albeit non-violent now—"

"That's okay." He shrugs. "After everything that happened, that's the last thing I'm thinking about, and besides... having you in my life is everything I could want."

Even in the darkness of the room, you can still see the way he looks at you — like he's hypnotized.

Your fingers run past his jaw, voice quieter as if someone else is listening in on you. "What's going on?"

"Just looking at you."

"Why?"

"Just 'cause." He lightly shrugs, eyes half-lidded when he plays with a strand of your hair. "You're pretty."

It makes you turn your head to chuckle into the pillow in an attempt to hide how much that made you smile.

It's silent for a moment until he very quietly calls your name.

"Do you wanna come home with me?"

You had a feeling the question was coming, and so you answer it with a rising heart rate. "I'm scared to go back, you know."

"What're you scared of?"

"That once I get back, I'll just get pulled right back into the place I was in when I left. I'm afraid that I'll start field work again and I'll crumble again, and I can't do that. I cannot go back to the way I was. It's fucking eating at me."

"I'll stick up for you. The whole squad still has your back. Simmons is dead. Lloyd is in charge of everything, he wouldn't make you do anything if he knew you were struggling with it."

With tired eyes, you let out a sigh. "I can't come back home yet. But you'll see me again soon. I promise."

And right now, that's more than enough for him.

The difficulty he's experienced with sleeping the past few months seems nonexistent now that he's in bed with you. He has to refrain from begging for your touch — because it's the first time he's felt good in months.

He's starting to wonder what's up with you and making him feel like life is actually worth living.

The next few days he spends with you. You show him around town, the things that have kept you busy the past year, people you've met — all of it. He finds it fascinating.

Yuri was surprised when you popped up at her doorstep with a man the complete opposite of what she'd imagined, silently whispering how his gaze always seems to involuntarily follow you wherever you go, which you dismiss with heat rising to your cheeks.

You even spend your first Christmas together, and with every day he wakes up by your side, you force yourself to stop thinking about seeing him leave again.

But unfortunately his vacation comes to an end not long after. He returns to the States on his own, and his colleagues just can't stop whispering about the possible cause of Leon S. Kennedy smiling like a schoolgirl.

Three months after visiting you, he finds himself in the office, talking to Lloyd about a case he's taken on, as Neal plays Pac-Man on his flip phone.

Yoko eventually enters the room as well, handing over a folder with confidential documents. "Case files you asked for. Went all the way down to that stuffy-ass basement for this — better be useful."

"Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah. It's fine. I got a bit of a headache though, so I'm gonna get some coffee. Anyone else want some?"

Before any of the three can respond, a different voice joins the conversation. "I would love some, actually."

Leon turns to look around, and he nearly has to pinch himself to make sure he's not imagining things, because he's quite sure you're leaning against the doorpost right now.

"Toots!" Neal says, his face lighting up.

"Hey." You say softly, proceeding to be lifted off the floor when Leon hugs you like his life depends on it, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. "Hi there, big guy."

"Baby, you should've called. I would've picked you up from the airport."

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

Yoko coughs loudly behind your husband, making him glare at her, and she presses her lips together. "Excuse me, Kennedy, but we'd like to give the girl a hug too."

Leon rolls his eyes but steps out of the way nonetheless. As you embrace your friends, you force yourself not to cry — because fuck have you missed them.

Allowing people to physically touch you is still something you're working on, but this feels good. Comfortable.

You spend the next hours catching up with them. It then hits you how much you've missed them in your life, even if the road to friendship with them was quite a rocky one.

Just like a year ago, you do your best to get used to a new lifestyle — but in your old home, with familiar faces.

It still feels strange to you, but it works. You feel like you're actually making progress.

Two months pass, and you're still slowly settling back into field work, though it's been less hard on you than you anticipated. Lloyd is careful with the operations he gives you, mainly letting you focus on gaining intel, and you're very grateful to him for it.

You moved in with Leon as well, as you were both ready to do so, and it's been very good so far. Your relationship has significantly improved — you've both found the right ways to communicate about your worries, issues and insecurities.

And you're so genuinely happy being around him. He's been working on opening up more, he's started to find more joy in his job, the dynamic of the team has also changed for the better now that you're back, as if everything is complete.

Well — almost.

Neal sits across from you at the table of the cozy and spacious café, taking a sip from his coffee. "I need to tell you something."

He's being awfully serious for his doing, so you're suddenly considerably more interested. You were rather surprised when he called you to meet up for coffee, almost weirded out when he said you had to come alone. "Okay."

"You know how you landed on our task force 'cause Simmons got downgraded, right?"

"Yes?" It sounds more like a question than an answer, but still. You're not sure why he's bringing this up.

"Did you ever find out why?"

With your brows still furrowed, you shrug your shoulders. "Because of my bad behavior. The higher-ups came to watch when I attacked one of the researchers — and that wasn't the first incident."

He shifts in his seat, leaning closer. "Yeah, but I'm talking about the reason they came to watch in the first place. The reason they began to doubt Simmons's capability at all."

"Where are you trying to go with this?"

Your friend looks around him, almost seeming paranoid for a second before answering the question. "Not long after you left, I started thinking about it just 'cause I thought it was weird — so I did some digging." He begins, pausing briefly. "And apparently, someone gave a tip to his superior that he was doing something shady, involving you."

"But that's not possible. No one knew about the experiments."

"Exactly. So there was someone out there who had their own reason to bring Simmons down despite not even being aware of what the fucker was doing to you."

"So you're saying someone in the agency had unfinished business with Simmons and proceeded to destroy his career, accidentally stumbling upon him experimenting on a super soldier?"

"No — someone in the agency had unfinished business with you." Neal says, lowering his voice. "Someone who pretended he didn't want you on our squad when it was actually his doing. He tricked you into believing he despised you as much as you despised him."

Utter stupidity renders you speechless as you sit there, thinking of who he could possibly be talking about, then it hits you.

Holy shit.

"No. You can't be serious."

"I am."

"If you're saying what I think you're saying—" you cut yourself off to lower your voice as well, "—that means he's been lying to all of us this whole time."

"You know what he's capable of."

He runs a hand through his blonde hair.

Silence.

You're thinking over his words, rubbing your hand on your chin and jaw, certain moments flashing before your eyes.

Tapping your nails against the cup, your lips twist around as you ponder what to say, what to think. "Why do you think he'd do something like that if it wasn't to expose Simmons's wrongdoings?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The younger man across from you shakes his head, as if he's found the solution to a question he's asked himself for years. "He did it for you, his focus has always been you. Whether it was to find out if you were innocent or guilty, or the person he fell in love with in Raccoon City — you've quite literally been his priority since the day you met him."

"And you're absolutely certain about this?"

"Yes — and there's more." He nods. "First he made sure that Simmons got downgraded in his authority so he would lose his position as your supervisor. He knew you'd be placed on our squad because Lloyd knew who you were and what your history was in Raccoon, and besides, where else would they transfer a violent superhuman to if not a team of somewhat similar people?"

You listen to him with narrowed eyes, completely silent, eager to hear him out. So he continues to convince you of his theories.

"Moving on to the moment when he spotted you and Simmons at the train station. He could've gone after you but he went for him instead because he knew you wanted something from the guy. So he lets you leave. After the interrogation, you're the one who frees Simmons again. Eleven days pass by and he strangely enough isn't able to locate you. This is Kennedy we're talking about — he could've traced you in mere hours if he wanted to, but he didn't. On purpose."

"Why?"

"Think about what you were doing when he finally met up with you. You were gathering the last things you needed to get out of the country. That was the perfect time to strike. He drugged you to keep you close to him instead, locked you up in his wine cellar, which was a decoy, because he knew about the cell in the agency. This is where it gets tricky, alright."

"Oh, Jesus, there's more?"

"Listen to me. His sole purpose was to make you see reason again. So eventually, he makes sure you're transferred from his apartment to the cell. Leaves a knife in your boot to see what you'll do with it, and if you decide to use it, make you see that what you're doing is wrong. So we leave you in the cell to go to Peru in order to retrieve the antidote. Someone, for some reason, unlocks your cell, and at that exact moment, our plane should be leaving but is delayed. No one knows why. He's the one who goes to talk to the pilot."

Your head is starting to spin now.

"You're telling me that he unlocked my cell from a distance and ensured that the flight was delayed solely so I had enough time to get on it?"

"Exactly."

"That's ridiculous. He hated my guts when I lied to him. I threatened Yoko with a fucking knife. Why would he let me out knowing I was that unstable?"

"He knew you were already weaker at that point. My guess is that he figured your relationship couldn't be fixed until you were forced to spend time and work together again, just like you did the night you met. A night of survival. He mentioned it in Peru right before we split up."

It's insanity.

And you hate to admit that it does sound like something he'd do.

"Do you really think he'd go that far?"

"He killed so many people involved in your maltreatment over the past year. Every single one of us knew what the fuck he'd done when he showed up with blood on him, even if he didn't say anything about it." There's a certain spark in his eye now that he sees the realization has finally dawned on you. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's that he's willing to do whatever it takes to get what he wants — and in this case, that's you."

Your eyes flick down to the gold ring sitting on your finger, and you grin just a little, unable to help the chuckle that leaves your mouth.

Momentarily touching your lips with your fingers, you look at the watch on your wrist, the words coming out of your mouth having a sarcastic edge to them. "God, it's getting late. I gotta go. He said he'd cook for me tonight."

"What—what are your thoughts? We gotta talk about this, right?" Neal says, trying to stop you from leaving, but you've already put your jacket back on, throwing a few dollars on the table.

"I'll text you later."

And so you leave him behind in the cafe, dumbfounded, all while you make your way back home, unable to get his words out of your head.

As you enter the now shared apartment, you catch the smell of the oven while kicking off your shoes.

Leon moved out of his old place a while back. It held too many memories of times both of you'd rather forget, and he felt like moving on also came with a new home — so he moved into a slightly bigger penthouse instead.

You close the door after you, smiling when you see him standing behind the kitchen counter, that cookbook he mentioned to you before laid out in front of him. "Hey."

The kiss you give him is short but sweet. "Hi, baby."

"That smells so good, I'm starving."

"It better taste good too." He huffs, washing his hands. "I spent so much time on this. It was too salty last time."

"Hm." You hum sort of absentmindedly, looking at him a little longer than usual, and he can almost feels the way your eyes linger on him.

The way he can tell something is off should be considered a sixth sense at this point.

When you've grabbed something out of his fridge, closing it again, he's suddenly standing beside it, startling you. "Christ, Leon—"

"Did I mention how pretty you look today?"

The shock on your face is swiftly replaced with a blank stare. "Alright. What do you want from me?"

"Why're you assuming I want something? Can't I tell my wife she looks pretty out of the goodness of my own heart?"

"Well, shit, I didn't think you had one."

"Hilarious. Really." He deadpans, making you scoff, and so he puts his arms around your waist once you've turned your back to him. "You do look pretty though."

"Thank you. My question still remains."

His head is resting in the crook of your neck when he huffs a little. "You're acting different. I wanna know why. Did something happen today?"

As you're hesitantly thinking about giving him a true answer, the timer he set a few minutes ago goes off, and so he needs to shift his focus to the food on the stove.

His curiosity will have to wait for now, much to his annoyance.

With the TV faintly playing some news broadcast in the background, you find yourselves seated on the soft couch, and you've just put the first bite of food into your mouth.

With his left eye half closed, he waits in anticipation for you to voice your judgement.

So you purposefully chew slowly, setting your bowl in your lap for a moment, suddenly feeling like a judge in a cooking show. "Still too salty."

"Oh, goddamnit."

"But it tastes great nonetheless, so I'm still gonna finish the whole thing."

"I followed the recipe on the package." He cries out desperately, taking a bite himself.

"You're supposed to cook with the heart, Kennedy."

"What does that even mean?" Then he sees you laughing, so he points at you with his fork. "Next time, we're gonna cook together. Show me how you'd do it."

"Okay, fine." You chuckle, jaw hurting from smiling.

He talks to you about his day at work, asks you about yours, and before you know it, you've finished your food, and he's putting both of your empty bowls on the coffee table.

Neal's words keep plaguing your mind — and so you just think to yourself, fuck it.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure. Can't guarantee you'll get an answer though."

You huff, pretending to be annoyed before reverting back to a serious tone again. "What happened to Simmons's little scientist club?"

Leon seems surprised you're bringing it up, his features softening. "Well, they're missing."

"Yeah, no shit."

"Then why are you asking?"

Narrowing your eyes, you tilt your head, humming as if you suddenly know the answer to a difficult question. "Oooh, I get it. This is a thing you do now. You know, besides murder."

Your husband scoffs at the sardonic comment. "What—baby, what's this all about?"

"You're avoiding my question, that's what it's about."

"Because, I—" he suddenly stops, pausing for a moment to say the right thing, "I don't know what you are and aren't comfortable hearing. Look at what they did to you."

You scoot closer to him, fingers finding his. "I'm comfortable with this. I wanna know."

He sighs, recalling the memories of the past year. "Well, I... threatened them first. I wanted them to feel scared, like they weren't sure whether I'd be coming for them or not. They were trembling in their places, it was great."

"Sometimes I think you're normal, and then you say shit like that, and then I remember that you're fucking nuts."

"Thank you." He laughs, suggestively raising his brow. "I had a fucking field trip with it."

"Yeah? What'd you do to them?"

"Pushed one of 'em from a balcony onto a car, the other drowned in a lake, I hung another one — it took a shitload of my time, but it was worth it."

"Simmons had a right-hand man too—"

"Beat him to death with a hockey stick."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"God, we're terrible people."

"But at least we have fun with it?"

"Jesus." You chuckle, and he does the same when you ask him what you've been dying to ask. "Hey, um... now that we're talking about it — recently I've been thinking about everything that happened a year ago... and I realized there's still some unanswered questions."

"Such as?"

"Well, I landed on your squad because Simmons was downgraded in his authority. No one actually told me why." Hesitance is audible in your voice, yet he doesn't say anything.

Nothing really changes in his body language, but seeing how he remains quiet in his place is like he's silently urging you to keep going.

So you do. "And, you know, there's that moment my cell was magically unlocked right before the plane took off to Peru, which also conveniently happened to be delayed..."

As he leans back in his place on the couch, his gaze becomes just a bit more intense once he sees the way you're looking at him. "Go on. Ask."

"Thought you considered it impolite to ask questions you already know the answer to."

"I do. You just don't seem to be sure of the answer to this one."

If you were hesitant of his part in this before, you've definitely made up your mind now. He's trying not to look as smug as he feels about the whole thing, you can tell, and both of you know that you're aware and what Neal said was all true.

"You took a big gamble by letting me out of that cell, y'know."

He's quiet at first, but remains firm eye contact. But he doesn't seem to be regretting anything — quite the opposite, actually.

"Did I?"

"Why'd you do it, though? I was out of my mind and you know that."

"You weren't beyond saving. I never thought you were." It's his genuine answer and you can see that he still believes he did the right thing. "But you did need a wake-up call. That was my way of giving it to you — and it worked, didn't it?"

The question has you giving him a hug. "You've got a funny way of solving problems."

"Probably." He says, kissing your cheek, feeling utterly lovesick when your fingers touch his jawline, his heart beating faster.

"Were you ever planning on telling me?"

So he shrugs. "I would've told you if you'd asked."

Which in turn makes you scoff at him. "Seriously?"

"Afraid so. But I knew you'd figure it out eventually, one way or another."

"You're ridiculous. And possibly a genius."

"Thank you."

"Though you should probably try to find less debilitating outlets than torture and murder. I hear tennis is fun."

"But I'm so much better at this, honey."

Your husband just smiles proudly when you snort at him.

Leon is so, so sickeningly in love with you. He presses a kiss to the inside of your arm, then moves you forward to sit in his lap, and you rub your thighs against his.

"All of that for a girl you like, huh?"

"Mhm." He hums, fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt. "For my favorite girl, anyway."

"God, I fucking hate it when you say that."

"Why?"

"'Cause it turns me on."

His mouth curves into a smug smile. "I knew it."

"Don't get cocky now."

"I love your choice of words." Your husband chuckles almost devilishly before kissing you, then moving lower to suck on the skin of your neck.

What's perhaps the most interesting thing about the whole situation is that Leon doesn't only seem to be proud of what he did — he likes knowing that you know about it. As if he enjoys having you be aware of how far he would go for you.

Whatever charm the fucker has, it sure as hell works on you.

Mere minutes later, he throws you onto your shared bed, his knees on the edge when he moves his arms up to get his shirt off. You just watch him, propping yourself up on your elbows, but not for long — he drags your body closer to him by your ankles, making you yelp.

He wastes no time taking your shirt off you, feeling awfully impatient, moving on to get rid of the next piece of clothing still covering your body.

So you lift your hips up just enough for him to pull your pants off, discarding it across the floor of the bedroom. Leon pushes you flat onto your back, kissing down your jaw, your stomach, your thighs—

Until your phone rings.

You visibly move to take it, but he hums out of disapproval, childishly keeping you from picking up. "Leon—"

"Voicemail exists for a reason, baby."

"What if it's important?"

"Then you tell whoever's calling that your husband's about to munch on your pussy for at least a solid two hours."

"Always so crass about it."

"It's just the truth." He shrugs casually, moving up from your body, entirely against his will. Since he's closer to the phone, he checks the caller ID. "It's Neal. What does he want now?"

Your eyes widen a little before you attempt to snatch your phone from his hands, which intrigues him, because you normally have no reason to act like this — like you're hiding something.

So he traps you underneath him, pressing the green button on the device. "What's up, Heyward?"

You try to take the phone from him again, especially since you're unable to hear what your colleague at the other end of the line is saying, but your husband just pushes you back down, holding a finger in front of his mouth to make it clear you need to stay quiet.

Then he kisses your neck again, distracting you while his free hand slowly moves lower and lower until it goes into your underwear — he could cry just from feeling how wet you are.

Unable to suppress the sudden squeal you let out when he pushes two fingers inside you, he puts the phone down for a moment, using his other hand to cover your mouth. "Keep your mouth shut. Don't want him to hear this, do you?"

He ever so casually puts the phone back up to his ear, laughingly saying the TV is on in the background, playing it off like he doesn't have his fingers buried inside your cunt right now.

It's hard to tell how long they keep the conversation going. His voice remains stable even when he adds a third finger, even when they begin to move faster, making you cry out against your own hand, and you're pretty sure you're about to see stars at this point.

"No, yeah, she's... busy right now." He says, clearly having to force himself not to laugh at that, keeping up the façade. "I'll let her know you called though."

Then he angles his fingers, curling them upwards just the way he knows gets you weak, and he smirks when you clench on him, legs trembling and desperately trying to close around his wrist. You bite your own thumb to keep your voice down.

Once he finally says his goodbyes and hangs up, you exhale, relieved to finally be able to breathe normally — even though the situation did turn you on. Just a little bit.

He moves his fingers, making you hiss from the sudden sensitivity, and then you notice the way he's looking at you.

"So that's how you found out, huh?" He rhetorically asks, pushing his long, slender fingers as deep as they can go, and you gasp, hands clutching onto his arm. "Unbelievable."

"He just—oh, God—" you cut yourself off with a broken moan, eyes rolling back when he works you up to your second orgasm.

"He just what, sweet girl? Hm?"

"He just wanted me to know. 'S nice of him."

"Yeah, it was just so nice of him to clarify how much I'm obsessed with you." He mocks, taking his fingers out of you before sucking on them, enjoying the taste of you on his tongue.

His fingers are already hooking on your panties to take them off you, only leaving you in your bra.

"Yeah, I think so too." You chuckle equally as sarcastic, spreading your legs for him, not missing the playful smile that ghosts past his lips.

He's cute.

When you notice he's about to move his head between your thighs, you stop him. "I love you and all, but if you don't fuck me right now, I'll go clinically insane."

That elicits a scoff from him. "Someone's needy."

"Mhm. So either you give it to me or I'll take it myself."

"Yes ma'am." He grins, removing his underwear, almost mourning the fact that he can't eat you out right now, when you're so wet, so sensitive — yet every coherent thought is abandoned once he pushes the tip of his cock into you, a small gasp leaving your mouth, eyes rolling back.

Christ, this has got to be the closest thing to heaven he'll ever feel.

As he pushes deeper into you, he spreads your legs further, urging you to wrap them around his waist while your hands find his neck, moving to pull on his hair. The stretch of him still burns, even if he did prep you, but the pain fades into pleasure so easily.

The ring you slid on his finger is cold on your cheek when he puts his hand on your chin. He's just so fucking cruel, with the way he always knows how to make you crumble underneath him.

"God," he rasps against you, hips slowing down because the feeling of you around him is suddenly very overwhelming. "You feel so fucking good."

"Need it just a little faster, please—"

"Oh, baby." He exhales mockingly, and because he's a cheeky asshole, he does the exact opposite. Thrusting into you slowly, he moans, praising you simply for being so gorgeous underneath him. "Look at you, pretty. Just can't get enough of you."

Him not giving you what you want is all for the sole purpose of making you needier, just to tease you, and you start to writhe underneath him, attempting to fuck yourself on him, which has him chuckling darkly.

"Don't be a brat, now."

He's so gorgeous — it should be a crime to look that good.

"You like it when I'm a little bratty though, don't you, Leon?" You mutter, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes when his mouth inches closer to yours. "I think you love it, actually."

"Aren't you clever." He quips back with the exact same tone, smiling lazily when you let out a sweet, proud giggle at his words, pressing his lips to yours to feel your warm tongue.

Once he releases your mouth, lips parted, you pout at him when he retains the same pace of his hips. "C'mon, give it to me, please — thought you loved me."

You didn't think the playful but slightly manipulative sentence would work on him, but it does. "That needy, huh? Alright. Turn over."

It happens within the blink of an eye. Pushing you onto your stomach, he grabs a handful of your ass, setting a slower pace to roll his hips against you for just a little longer.

"God, you're such a dick."

"Oh, but you like it, don't you?" He mimics your words, biting his lip before thrusting ridiculously hard into you just once, and you could cry, because that's exactly what you're craving right now. "Trying to manipulate me, get me all riled up? Cute. Hold onto the headboard."

You do as he commands, his grip on your hips tightens, and he starts to pound into you, stealing any clever remarks away from you, turning you into a sobbing, moaning mess.

The intoxicating smell of sex is heavy in the air, and you'd stay like this for the rest of your life if you could.

He's leaning over your back, mouth suddenly close to your ear. "You wanna know why I did all those things? Why I made sure you'd be back in my life again?"

Leon tries his best to keep his composure, but he just can't help falling apart a little when he hears you whimper his name. The gentle kiss he leaves on your shoulder is a sharp contrast to the roughness of his hands.

You can't even answer him properly, yelping when he suddenly flips you onto your back again, cupping your cheeks with a single hand, tilting your head back a little as he forces you to look up at him. "It's 'cause I missed seeing the look on your face when you're fucked completely stupid—"

He hisses when you clench around him, slowing his movements, his words turning both of you on.

"—and you know what? It was so fucking worth it. I'd do it all over again if I had to." He laughs to himself, pushing deeper into you.

You just can't help the rising grin on your face as you cup his cheeks, fingers running over his stubbled chin. "All for me?"

"All for you, baby."

He kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Your eyes roll back as he lets his tongue touch your midriff, licking a long stripe back up to your throat, messily kissing you like it's the last thing he'll ever do.

Your nails dig into his back when he fucks you faster and harder, nearly drawing blood, and the pain has him groaning in pleasure. He wants you to etch your marks into his back, wants to feel the burn of them when he takes a shower, wants to feel it all over again once they've healed up.

Shit — he finds himself embarrassingly close to his release already, doing everything he can to hold it back, and it's in that split second that you decide to take charge.

You decide to use your strength to catch him off guard, pinning him underneath you right before you sink down on him again.

As if you couldn't be any hotter, his eyes follow the movement of your hand, seeing you reach for the last piece of fabric remaining on your body.

He fucking loves the bra that you're wearing right now. It has the clasp on the front instead of the back, so he watches you slide the garment off like a man hypnotized, unable to look away from your chest.

You take him slow and deep, and he's doing everything he can not to bust inside you already, because Jesus Christ, you've never looked prettier.

He wonders if you're even remotely aware of the effect you have on him.

Faint smears of your pretty lipstick are visible at the corners of his mouth, swollen lips parted when he moans from the sensation of you riding him, his hands on your hips while yours sit on his abs.

His jaw clenches at the feeling of your heat around him, the lewd sound of him sliding in and out of the wetness between your legs making him whimper, gripping onto you like it's the last thing he'll ever do.

"Oh, yes, baby, feels so good—fuck—stop squeezing me like that or I'll cum—"

"But I want you to, I wanna feel it. Make a mess for me, please." You tell him so sweetly, not slowing down in the slightest, and he whines when you clench around him again on purpose.

"Jesus Christ, you can't just—can't just say shit like that." He breathes out, trying not to look at the way your tits bounce when you use him like he's only good for getting you the pleasure you so desperately need.

His head is thrown back in pleasure, upper body arching up when it slowly becomes too much to handle, but he wants to feel you fall apart around him, so he uses his skilled fingers the way he knows best.

The stimulation of your already sensitive bundle of nerves has you crying out his name again.

"Why do you let me in so easily? Is it—Jesus, fuck—is it 'cause I bring you to your knees like this? Hm?"

Gun to his head, he could not tell you what the fuck it is about the person you are that renders him so weak, allows his true personality and feelings to bubble to the surface, and makes him feel whole. He couldn't.

It's a weirdly intimate connection he finds difficult to explain — but fuck does he love it.

"Just—fucking hell—just wanna be everything to you." He almost pleads, brows drawing together as if he's just uttered his final words to you.

And it makes you crumble on top of him just as he breaks underneath you.

The obsession he's had with you since the day you met in Raccoon City is still so awfully present — perhaps it's gotten worse. He'd do anything for you, anything to impress you, anything, and five years later, you find yourself just as obsessed with him.

However fucked up you both are — call it insane or psychotic — it's something you both crave, and you can't imagine living your lives without one another anymore. Like two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly.

Hissing from the ache in your legs, you get off him, only to be met with a kiss that steals your breath.

It makes you let out a breathy laugh against his lips, exhaustion kicking in. "I gotta take a second to breathe, you know."

"Just got some insatiable habits." He manages to get out between kisses, simply not willing to let his mouth get away from yours.

Then you quite literally collapse on top of him, and it's quiet for a moment.

"We really need to use something like a towel in the future."

"Would've thought of it if you weren't getting my dick wet."

You honestly don't even have the energy to respond. With shaky legs, you push yourself off the bed, heading for the bathroom, and when you get back, he's put on some shorts.

"You alright, Doll?" He asks when you get back on the bed, laying your head down on his bare chest.

"Yeah. I actually really needed that."

"Rough day?"

"Not necessarily. It's just a nice way to de-stress. I like being intimate with you."

He presses a kiss to your hand as a response, intertwining your fingers with his as you listen to the steady sound of his heartbeat.

"Y'know, there's something I wanted to ask you." You kiss his cheek, making him blush. "Well, it might sound a bit strange, but as... traumatic as the events in Peru and Raccoon City were... there's one thing I did like."

"What's that?"

"Having you as my partner in crime. Working together as a team."

"Me too. We work well together." Leon gently takes a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear, absentmindedly twirling it between his fingers. It's so relaxing for him.

It's silent for a moment.

"I have an assignment in Naples next month. We could figure something out with Lloyd, see if we can do it together instead."

Fragments of memories of the two of you working as a team flash by your eyes, and you nod. "Yeah. You 'n me. I'd like that."

"Okay." He whispers, giving you a kiss. "I could really go for some dessert right now."

"My legs are already so fucking sore —"

"I was actually referring to the can of ice cream left in the freezer, honey."

He grins at you and you're speechless for once, squeezing one eye shut as if you're in pain. "We're gonna forget I said anything, okay?"

"Absolutely not. We're still gonna eat ice cream, but you're up first." He chuckles, lifting his upper body up to get above you, his hands on your knees to spread them again, which has you laughing — and you don't exactly stop him, either.

Five months pass by and you find yourself applying the finishing touches of your makeup in the mirror, your green dress with small silver embellishments flowing with your movements.

You can't remember the last time you attended a wedding, much less one of people close to you.

Someone suddenly knocks on the door of your hotel room, and so you raise your voice to say that it's open. Leon walks in and closes the door behind him, whatever frown he had on his face just evaporating as if it was never there in the first place.

"You look gorgeous." He tells you, so you give him a little smile, admiring him as he looks so good in his sleek suit.

"Thank you. How's Lloyd doing?"

"He's very, very quiet. Nervous as hell. It's kinda funny."

"Poor man." You chuckle, moving to take the matching necklace, but he beats you to it.

"Lift your hair. I'll put it on."

Doing as he says, you take your hair and hold it up, his warm hands contrasting the cold of the silver on your skin. "Can you zip me up, too?"

Leon hums, the corner of his mouth slightly curling upwards as he catches a glimpse of the pretty lingerie you're wearing underneath the dress that just so happens to be his favorite color. Once your zipper is all the way up, his arms slide around your waist. He looks at you through the mirror, putting his head on your shoulder for a moment.

"Baby, I've been thinking."

"Uh-oh. Don't think too hard, wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

The sarcastic comment earns you a playful pinch at your skin, after which you laugh, turning around to face him.

"I wanna get married."

So you raise your brow. "We're already married."

"I know that, but... I wanna have an actual wedding. See you walk down the aisle, in a white dress and a veil, and then I wanna take it off you on our wedding night, and I want a honeymoon — I want all of that." He tells you, heart beating like crazy because he hopes you want it just as bad as he does. "Do you?"

Lifting your hand to his cheek, you nod. "Yeah, I do. But let's keep it between us for now, yeah? Today's not our day."

He mimics your moves in agreement. "I know."

It doesn't stop him from kissing you, slowly but passionately, hoping you can feel even as much as a fragment of his immense love for you. Your fingers run down his neck when he nips at your bottom lip.

While neither of you want to stop, the clock is ticking and you know now is really not the occasion to be late. "You should probably go back to Lloyd. I gotta find Yoko."

His best friends are getting married and he's got his arms around his wife. Happiness is within his grasp, apparently.

Nodding at you, he releases you hesitantly, taking a few steps to the door. His hand is already touching the handle, but he still can't help going back to you, kissing you one more time. "Love you."

"Love you too." You giggle, gesturing to the door. "Now go. I'll see you out there."

Able to taste your cherry lip balm on his lips, he chuckles to himself, finally leaving the room to leave you on your own. You touch your lips where he just kissed you, smiling to yourself with flushed cheeks.

God, what a wild fucking ride you've had with that man.

But you've grown to love him so much. He means the world to you. He changed your life like no one else has, for better or worse, but you're happy now. Really happy.

Your relationship will undoubtedly never be normal, but it did become what both of you wanted it to be — a happy and mostly healthy one.

The two of you, though damaged, managed to find your way back to one another, and the connection you share is one you wouldn't trade for the world.