bri bri

you barely had time to think about it before the next assignment came along. team akuta needed backup, a sweep through a stretch of no man's land where raiders had claimed collapsed high-rises as nests. decades of rot and impact damage had left the structures fragile, but they had turned it into an advantage, maybe attempting to pick shots from heights no one else dared to reach.

the building was worse up close. concrete sheared open like bone, metal ribs exposed and rusted through. the air inside tasted like old smoke and something bitter underneath. dust clung to your throat.

the silence stretched longer than it should have. not the hollow quiet of something abandoned, but the kind that made the back of your neck prickle. team akuta fanned out ahead of you, boots careful over fractured tile and old glass.

"they're here," rudo muttered under his breath. "they have to be."

tamsy didn't respond. his hand hovered near your elbow as you stepped over a split in the flooring, not touching, just close enough that you knew he would if you slipped.

the makeshift barricades lining the hallway weren't defensive in the way you expected. splintered desks shoved together. it looked less like preparation for a fight and more like something dismantled in a hurry.

you crouched near one of the doorways and brushed your glove over the concrete. the top layer of dust shifted too easily, revealing a darker patch beneath it.

"tamsy," you said quietly.

he moved beside you without hesitation. "what."

"i don't think this was settled naturally."

his eyes traced upward, following the lines in the ceiling. fractures spread from the support beams in branching patterns that looked almost deliberate. the metal brackets had been tampered with — not obvious at first glance, but once you saw it, you couldn't unsee it.

a low metallic creak echoed from somewhere above, not loud enough to be dramatic, just enough to seem wrong. realization settled heavy in your stomach. they hadn't waited to ambush. they hadn't planned to trade shots from the upper floors. they'd prepared the building instead.

"we need to clear out," tamsy said. the shift in his voice was subtle but immediate.

team akuta began backing toward the exit. you fell into step beside tamsy, heart beating faster now that the pattern made sense. the absence of combat wasn't luck.

another metallic strain carried through the structure, deeper this time. the floor beneath your boots vibrated faintly, like something heavy had shifted its weight.

"move," tamsy ordered, sharper now.

you were halfway down the corridor when something snapped above you. the lights flickered once before dying completely, plunging the hallway into a dim wash of gray from the broken windows at the far end. dust shook loose from the ceiling in thin streams.

the far wall buckled inward with a deep cracking groan. concrete split along the fractures you'd noticed minutes earlier, spiderwebbing outward. the building seemed to exhale — a long, grinding release of tension.

"stairwell!" zanka shouted.

you ran, and tamsy stayed at your side, one hand gripping the back strap of your vest now, not trusting proximity alone. the floor dipped again under your weight. a railing tore free ahead with a violent screech, clattering down the steps.

they hadn't meant to bury you instantly. they'd meant to collapse exit points first. a section of ceiling dropped behind you, sealing off the corridor you'd just cleared. dust exploded forward in a choking wave. someone coughed hard over the chokers.

"we're boxed—" riyo's voice cut in static over the chokers.

the stairwell landing trembled as boots pounded across it. you reached the turn in the stairs just as the support column beside it split clean through the middle.

"down!" tamsy barked.

you barely had time to react before the landing tore free. the world tilted violently. the stairs didn't fall in one clean drop; they broke apart in jagged sections, slabs shearing off at different angles. you felt yourself lose footing, your hand shooting out for balance and catching fabric instead.

tamsy's sleeve.

for a split second, your fingers locked. his other hand grabbed for you, but the concrete between you shifted, ripping the space wider. your grip slipped.

you fell.

the impact knocked the air from your lungs so completely you couldn't even scream. debris followed in a cascade — smaller pieces first, then something heavier that struck your hip and pinned you hard against the fractured floor below. the debris rained down from the impact points, fine gray powder coating your hair and lashes. your chest refused to expand properly. every inhale scraped raw. you tried to move your legs.

nothing.

above you, faint but frantic, voices filtered through layers of debris.

"we need to pull back!"

"status, anyone?!"

"she was right here!"

that one. even muffled, you'd recognize it.

you forced your eyes open wider, fighting the urge to let them close. the weight pressing against you felt endless. claustrophobic. like the pit itself had decided to swallow you.

"tamsy," you tried, but it came out broken.

blood trickled warm along your temple. the air felt thinner by the second. another piece of rubble shifted overhead. light filtered through a narrow break in the debris, thin and blinding, and then his face appeared in it. eyes scanning with a focus that bordered on frantic. they locked onto you. something in him changed instantly.

"hey—hey!" his voice broke when he saw you. "don't shut down on me. look at me."

you focused on the sliver of sky behind him. on his face streaked with dust and blood. there was a cut across his brow you didn't remember seeing before.

"you're not allowed," he said, voice shaking in a way that didn't match the tamsy you knew. "you hear me? you don't get to leave like this."

you''d have laughed if breathing didn't feel like knives.

his hands tore at the debris pinning you down. someone shouted at him from behind to stop — the structure wasn't stable. he ignored them completely.

"i've got her," he snapped, and there was something feral in it.

when the weight lifted from your leg, pain detonated up your spine. you gasped, vision flashing white, and his expression crumpled like he'd been the one crushed.

"i know. i know," he muttered, voice low and frantic. "just stay with me."

he slid his arms beneath you carefully, as if you might shatter, and lifted you free from the rubble. dust cascaded around you as he carried you through what remained of the hallway. the building groaned behind him, threatening another collapse.

"we're getting you out," he said quietly, eyes never leaving yours. "don't you dare make me repeat myself."

you faded in and out against his chest, aware only of the way he kept saying your name like it was an anchor.

the first thing you register is the sound, steady and mechanical and entirely wrong compared to the groaning collapse you remember. then the light presses through your eyelids, too bright, too sterile, and when you finally manage to open your eyes the ceiling above you is whole and unmoving.

your body feels distant, heavy in places and sharply aware in others. when you try to shift, something pulls tight along your ribs and pain blooms slow and deep, anchoring you to the mattress beneath you.

voices reach you before your vision fully clears.

"she should've woken up by now."

"that's not how head trauma works."

you turn your head slightly and regret it immediately, breath hitching as the movement sends a protest through your side.

tamsy is sitting so close to the bed his knee presses against the frame. his forearms rest on the mattress near your hand, like he hasn't allowed more than an inch of distance since you were brought in. dried blood stains the collar of his shirt. the cut across his brow has been cleaned but not properly treated. he looks like he hasn't moved in hours.

eisha stands near the end of the bed, posture straight but not relaxed. her arms are folded, though the tension in her shoulders gives her away.

"she's awake," eisha says first, stepping forward slightly.

tamsy's head snaps toward you so fast it's almost jarring. he's on his feet immediately, chair scraping softly against the floor.

"hey," he says, and the word is steadier than the way his hands hover near you, unsure where he's allowed to touch. "don't try to sit up."

you attempt to speak and your throat burns. he notices and reaches for the water at your bedside. his hand slides carefully behind your head, lifting you just enough to drink. his touch is restrained, like he's afraid even gentleness might hurt you.

"slow," he murmurs when you swallow too fast. "you're fine. you're here."

you lower back against the pillow and look between them. "how long?"

"eighteen hours," eisha answers. "fractured tibia, three cracked ribs, mild brain bleed that stabilized on its own. you were lucky."

tamsy's jaw tightens at that word.

"lucky," he repeats quietly, like he doesn't agree with it.

you glance at him. "you look worse."

there's a flicker of something in his eyes that almost resembles a smile, but it doesn't fully form. "i'm not the one who got buried."

eisha steps closer to the bed, studying you carefully. "i will need to run another scan in an hour. you'll be here a while."

you nod faintly, the movement exhausting.

there's a brief silence that settles, heavy but not uncomfortable. then eisha looks at tamsy. "you should get cleaned up," she says. "i don't mind staying with her."

he doesn't answer immediately. his gaze is still locked on you, like he's confirming you're real and conscious and breathing.

"tamsy," eisha presses, softer now. "you've been here the entire time. you haven't even changed."

"i'm fine."

"you're not."

he finally looks at her, and whatever sits behind his eyes makes her pause.

"i said i'm fine," he repeats, quieter but immovable.

eisha exhales slowly, weighing her next words. "she's stable. i can sit with her while you—"

"no."

the word isn't loud. it doesn't need to be.

eisha studies him for a long second. "you don't have to do this alone."

his hand moves then, almost unconsciously, finding yours against the blanket. his fingers curl carefully around them, mindful of iv lines and bruising. he doesn't look away from you when he answers.

"you can go," he says.

it isn't harsh or unkind. but it's definitely stern enough to scare.

eisha's gaze flicks to the way his thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles, grounding himself as much as you. something in her expression softens.

"call if anything changes," she says to him, then to you, "and you shouldn't make a habit of this."

the door closes behind her with a quiet click that feels louder than it should. the room settles into a different kind of silence after that.

tamsy doesn't move right away. his hand stays wrapped around yours, thumb brushing once over your knuckles, still trying to confirm something. when he finally exhales, it's slow and unsteady, like he's been holding it since the building came down.

"she's right," you murmur, your voice thin but steadier now. "you look like hell."

that almost earns you something real. almost. his mouth shifts at the corner before flattening again.

"don't," he says quietly.

you study him instead of answering. the dried blood at his collar isn't all his, and there's dust still ground deep into the seams of his sleeves. his gloves sit discarded on the bedside table, knuckles torn clean through, fabric split and stiff with dried red where it soaked past the rips, as if he kept digging long after they stopped protecting him.

"you found me," you say.

his jaw tightens. "yeah."

"they told you to pull back."

it's a guess, but the way his eyes flick down tells you it's right.

"that wasn't your call," you add.

"no," he agrees, voice level in a way that feels carefully constructed. "it wasn't."

you shift slightly, wincing when your ribs protest. he's on his feet again immediately, one hand hovering near your shoulder, the other bracing against the mattress.

"stop moving," he mutters. "you shouldn't test the stitches yet."

"i'm not testing them."

"you are."

you look up at him and for the first time since you woke up, you see it clearly. the crack in his composure. the way his control is sitting just barely over something volatile.

"i thought you were dead," he says suddenly, like the words have been waiting and he's tired of holding them back. "when the landing gave out and you slipped, i couldn't see you. the chokers were static. the whole structure was shifting and they were yelling at me to fall back."

his grip on the bed frame tightens slightly.

"i couldn't get a clear read on you, you weren't responsive."

you swallow.

"so i went back in."

it isn't dramatic. he doesn't raise his voice. he says it like it was the most obvious choice in the world.

"tamsy—"

"don't." his eyes snap to yours, not angry, but sharp. "don't say my name like that. i don't regret it."

you stare at him for a long second. "you could've been buried too."

"i know."

the fact that he says it without hesitation makes your chest ache more than the fractures. he drags a hand down his face, then steps closer to the bed again, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him even through the layers of blankets and bandaging.

"when i saw you under there," he continues, quieter now, "you weren't moving. there was blood in your hair and i thought—" he stops, jaw working once before he forces himself to finish. "i thought that was it."

your fingers tighten weakly around his.

"it wasn't."

his gaze drops to your hand in his, like he's memorizing the weight of it.

"no," he says. "it wasn't."

you watch the tension shift through him slowly, settling into something more controlled. his thumb moves again, absent and repetitive, like he needs the motion.

"you're not allowed to do that again," he says after a moment.

"get crushed by a building?"

"disappear on me."

the words hang between you.

you try to lighten it, even now. "i didn't do it on purpose."

"i don't care."

his voice isn't harsh. it's just honest.

"you don't get to scare me like that," he adds, softer. "not after—"

he doesn't finish the sentence, but he doesn't have to. not after the wash basin. not after every half-second he's hovered near your elbow without touching. not after the way he ignored orders and tore concrete apart with his hands.

you shift your grip, careful of the iv line, and thread your fingers more securely through his. "i'm still here."

his eyes lift to yours again, and there's something unguarded in them that he doesn't usually let anyone see.

"yeah," he says quietly. "you are."

this time, when he pulls the chair closer and sits back down, he doesn't hover like he's unsure. he keeps your hand in his and leans forward just enough that his forehead almost brushes your knuckles.

and when he stays, there's the faintest brush of his lips over the back of your hand, gentle and he doesn't let go.

he's silently drowning in his thoughts that he doesn't realize you've arrived home from the grocery store. when you call out his name, it lands on partially deaf ears. his hearing aid is laying on the kitchen table. for now, you abandon the groceries on the counter, and grab his hearing aid instead.

your steps are slow and controlled when you approach him on the couch. the last thing you want to do is startle him. leon feels the vibrations of your socked feet on the carpeted floor, finally looking up from the photo.

'you left this on the table' you sign. he smiles softly, and mouths 'thank you', before taking the hearing aid from you and putting it back in.

"sorry, i must've taken in out before i showered. when did you come home? do you need help putting the groceries away?" he asks, already jumping into helper mode.

you shake your head, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder as you take your place beside him. "i can put them away, you already did so much for me today. i appreciate you cleaning for me, the apartment looks great."

"just wanted to help you out, sweetheart. you deserve to take breaks."

"so do you," you reply, kissing his shoulder. "what are you looking at?"

he clears his throat, attempting to hide the polaroid. "uh, just an old photo i found while cleaning out the closet. nothing important."

"wait, no, let me see," you say, reaching your hand out. but leon's arm is longer, and despite being almost 50, he's still fast. "seriously, sweetheart, it's nothing. just a boring picture of me when i was younger."

now, leon is a strong man. probably the strongest you've ever met and ever will meet. but he's no match against your pouty lips and not eyes when you're begging.

"fine, here," he mutters, placing the photo in your outstretched hand.

your thumb brushes the ripped corner once you have it, and you stare at it silently. eyes bouncing around as you look at his younger, pixelated features. "this is you?" you ask softly, after a few seconds.

he lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding in. "yeah, that's... that's me, sweetheart. still find me attractive?" he jokes weakly.

you scoff and roll your eyes, as if it's the dumbest question you've heard. "duh, of course i do. who could've known that you would get even sexier as you aged."

he chuckles. "i doubt that anyone thought i was 'sexy' when i was younger." he's then gets quiet, by this isn't his usual silence. it's heavier, more solemn. "i'm sorry i'm not the same person i used to be," he whispers, blue eyes hazy. like he's holding back tears that are fighting to fall.

"leon, what are you sorry for?" you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

"i mean, i'm sorry i'm not as young as i used to be. you deserve someone like that." he doesn't have to speak more to help you realize what he's trying to say. you already know what he means. it's been the start of many of your arguments.

leon's hair is graying. his forehead has wrinkles. his bones ache when he stands or sits for too long. his body is littered with scars. and lastly, his mind is haunted by the past. at least two times a week, leon will wake up from a nightmare, panting and sweating. his hand instinctively reaching for his hidden gun.

he couldn't understand why someone like you wanted someone like him. you're young and beautiful, with the kindest soul he's ever seen in a person. he's old and withered. not to mention haunted with severe trauma. you deserved someone softer like you are, and someone younger than he is.

"i don't want that, leon," you insist, setting the picture down on the coffee table. you stand and move in front of him, gently grabbing his chin to make him look at you. "i want you. all of you. i know what you're thinking, but that doesn't matter. your age and what you've been through doesn't scare me."

leon leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut. "i'm old, sweetheart. i'm not gonna last forever. what happens when..." he inhales shakily, "what happens when i go and you're still here? you're gonna regret wasting away your years with an old man like me, i know you will."

"you have no idea what you're taking about, baby. we don't know anything about our future. but what i do know, right now, is that i would forever regret never spending my years with you. that, i am certain of," you finish saying with a whisper.

his strong arms wrap around your waist to tug you into his lap. your thighs rest on either side of his body, while you lay your head on his chest.

"you're too good for me, you know that?" he whisper against your hair.

"maybe, but you're enough for me. from now until forever, i will always love you, leon kennedy."

"and i love you, sweetheart. until forever."