ashesashes

Before leaving, Leon’d told you something like this might happen, but he always said that, and it never actually did, so you didn’t think much about it and just laughed at his occurrence.

Since the moment he walked out the door, since you watched him drive off in the Porsche to who knows where because, of course, he hadn’t told you where he was going or what he was going to do, your mind had been running through a thousand different scenarios. The only thing you knew was that he desperately needed to find out what was killing him and the rest of Raccoon City survivors, and how he could stop that illness that was consuming them faster and faster.

Leon, as stubborn as ever, had refused to sit back and do nothing or send someone else in his place.

He wanted to put an end to everything himself, specially for you and for your daughters.

In the past, his future had been taken from him, but now he refused to let that happen again.

“Mom?”

You turn around and look at your eldest daughter, who is nervously chewing on her pen.

“Dad… he’s on his way, right? Do you think there’ll be much traffic? Maybe he’s coming tomorrow morning while we’re at school…”

You swallow with difficulty.

“You know your dad’s always late. Don’t you know him? Bet he’s taking his time.”

You force a smile and try to sound as convincing as possible, though it’s pointless.

A few minutes later, you hear the sound of a car engine on your street getting closer. You don’t expect it to be Leon, but the moment a pair of headlights lights up the living room window, you can’t help but sigh in relief.

“He’s finally here,” you whisper, quickly standing up and heading to the door.

Your youngest daughter’s still asleep, but your eldest mirrors you, jumping up from her chair and practically running after you, relief written all over her face.

That changes the moment you open the front door. 

Instead of Leon’s Porsche, you see a dark green Skoda, one you know all too well, and then you see someone you know just as well stepping out of it.

Sherry looks deathly pale and completely exhausted, as if she hasn’t slept in days. You can see how hard it’s for her to walk toward you, how her lips seem to move as she looks for the right words.

Your whole body goes still except for your eyes, darting around in search of your husband. Leon must have come back with her. He has to have. Maybe he just fell asleep in the car, or maybe he got hurt and, before coming to see you, she took him to the hospital…

Your stomach churns the moment Sherry finally stands in front of you and all she can do is shake her head.

“Where’s dad?” your daughter asks, confused.

As you already expected, Sherry doesn’t answer her.

All she does is finally look at you.

She doesn’t need to say anything for you to understand what happened.

“Can I come in?” she asks, her voice breaking.

You grip the doorknob tightly while your mind screams at you to say no, to tell her to fuck off and go away because letting her in would make everything become real.

You don’t want reality to hit you yet.

“Of course… Yeah, come in…” you finally say, betraying your own mind.

Sherry steps inside but doesn’t dare move past the hallway. You notice how she plays with her hands, nervously, and how her eyes stay fixed on the floor, not able to meet yours again.

Your daughter, however, goes from being confused to being quite frightened, as if she already knew what was coming.

“Sherry. Where’s dad?” she repeats.

The blonde opens her mouth, but closes it again when she realizes she can’t bring herself to say it.

You’re so confused, so desperate, so on edge that your sense of time completely slips away. You don’t know how much time passes, or how many times you hear your daughter begging Sherry to tell her where Leon is.

“What happened?”

You don’t even realize you’ve said it out loud until Sherry steps closer and pulls you into a tight hug.

“I’m so, so sorry…”

You pull away from her immediately, too abruptly. When you look at her again, you see tears streaming down her face with no shame.

“No… Sherry, don’t say that…”

Your daughter looks at both of you, then at her little sister, still asleep on the couch.

“Say what, mom? Sherry: dad’s okay, right?”

“Leon…” Sherry begins cautiously. “The FBI agent, Grace, was in danger…”

She forces herself to stop.

She can’t do it. She can’t say it.

“No…” you repeat in disbelief, though the truth is slowly sinking in.

“Where’s he?”

You glance at your daughter and see desperation taking over her more and more. You don’t know what feels worse, her truly believing Leon is alive, or knowing you’re going to have to tell her that he—

You feel a wave of dizziness. You close your eyes, trying to steady the nausea rising in your stomach.

“Sherry…”

She looks at you and, then, at your daughter.

“Sweetheart… your father didn’t… Your father didn’t make it.”

Your mind refuses to process the meaning behind those words even you force yourself to. You hear your daughter’s breathing grow fast and uneven, and you feel like the worst mother in the world because you can’t do anything to comfort her.

You’re in shock. You don’t know what to do.

You want to scream, to cry, to grab the gun you keep in your nightstand and shoot yourself in the head just to end this nightmare.

You feel the urge, but you can’t.

You need to keep going for them.

They had just lost their father. You couldn’t take away the only thing they had left in this world.

You.

And Leon… You know he would’ve wanted you to keep going and not having those thoughts he dealt with as well for many, many years.

“No,” your eldest says suddenly, almost shouting, making you turn back to her and Sherry. “That’s not true.”

“Sweetheart, I—”

“Sherry, damn it, you’re wrong!”

Instinctively, you glance toward the couch, hoping your youngest’s still asleep, but you’re not surprised to see her awake, rubbing her eyes as she slowly sits up.

“Mommy?”

A knot tightens in your throat, making it hard to breathe, but you rush to her, pulling her into an embrace that catches her completely off guard.

“No,” you hear your eldest repeating just a few steps away. “No. No. He promised us. He promised he’d come back.”

“Mommy? What’s wrong?” your little one asks in your arms, her eyes moving between you and her sister.

You can’t answer her because you don’t know how to tell her, but neither Sherry nor your eldest daughter seem able to either.

You see as the blonde wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, shyly, as if she was ashamed of grieving the man who was like a father to her.

“Things got pretty bad, so there wasn’t much we could do,” Sherry continues, speaking to your eldest. “Your dad… thinking about what might happen… he just wanted to save that FBI agent, Grace…”

You can’t keep listening.

You feel your body give out as you collapse to the floor, dropping to your knees. Your youngest kneels beside you immediately, bursting into uncontrollable tears as she asks what’s wrong. 

You can’t tell her. 

You can’t.

Your inability to breathe is joined by a growing pain in your chest. A broken scream escapes your throat, and you’re not even aware of what you’re saying.

As your eldest and Sherry rush to join you and your youngest, memories crash over you all at once.

Leon laughing because the pancake batter he’d promised to make for your daughters on a Sunday morning slipped from his hands and fell to the floor.

Leon cradling your daughters when they were babies, and how he’d kept the habit of reading them a story, no matter how old they got, before bed.

Leon promising all of you that he’d come back, that he’d take you all to Disneyland before your eldest left for college the following year.

Your whole body begins to tremble with spasms to the point it genuinely frightens you.

“That’s not… That’s not possible, Sherry…” you whisper, denial taking all over you.

Sherry cups your face, forcing you to look at her.

“I heard gunshots. And Grace told me how—”

You grab her coat and start shaking her angrily, not being able to think straight.

“If you knew he was in danger, you should’ve told him to leave!” your voice breaks. “You should’ve warned him he could die! You should’ve reminded him he promised us he’d come back!”

Your eldest stands up and goes to her sister, who’s beyond confused but from just hearing the conversation she’s beginning to understand what’s happening.

“Mommy?” your youngest asks, though your eldest starts stroking her hair, asking her to give you a moment. “Mommy? Are you okay?”

“Get out of here.”

“But, mommy—”

“Fuck, get the fuck out of here!”

Your youngest flinches, her eyes instantly filling with tears.

“I want daddy to come back…”

Those words shatter what little composure you had left. All you can do is cry harder and let the grief finally take over.

Your eldest can’t take it anymore either. She ends up beside you again, hugging you the way she used to when she was little.

“Dad said he’d come back,” she sobs. “He promised us, mum…”

Sherry covers her mouth to muffle her crying as she watches you, wrapping an arm around your youngest.

“Did daddy die?”

The youngest Kennedy’s question hangs in the air while you, at least you, try to figure out how to tell her that yes, that her father’s dead and he’s not coming back… not even his body, probably.

Your eldest, however, immediately shakes her head.

“No. Dad’s coming back any minute…”

Your vision blurs as you look at her, while your ears fixate on how she tries to convince her sister and herself that he’s just in the hospital and it’s only a matter of days before he comes back home.

Your youngest’s wearing one of Leon’s hoodies, the same one he last wore when you talked about adopting a dog once he got back.

You can’t help letting out a bittersweet laugh.

“Yes.”

The word slips from your lips at the same moment a broken sob escapes hers. 

Your youngest throws herself into your arms, crying that she wants Leon back. You hold her tightly, desperate, rocking her as you cry into her hair while stroking it.

“I know…” you whisper, trying to stay calm, though your voice breaks. “I know, sweetheart. I know…”

Your eldest joins you, wrapping her arms around both of you. You feel her whole body trembling.

Sherry clears her throat, and you force yourself to pull yourself together. You want to stay there, on the floor, crying, but once again you remind yourself that you have to be strong for your daughters.

You stand up, gently separating from them, straightening your clothes and your hair, and wiping your tears, though you know it’s useless.

“Leon… He gave me something before all this happened,” Sherry tells you.

“What…?”

“In fact, now that he’s gone…” she closes her eyes and shakes her head after saying it. “Every time he went on a mission, he’d give me one of these in case something happened to him. I kept them, because obviously he always came back to you… but now that he’s not… I’ll find them and bring them to you…”

She pulls a black USB flash drive from her jacket pocket, its edges slightly worn.

You stare at it, then at Sherry, who doesn’t seem able to hand it to you, as if doing so would make Leon’s death even more real.

“What is it?”

You carefully reach out and take it from her open palm, handling it with care.

“I have no idea,” a knot tightens in your stomach as she says that. “Every time he gave me one, he told me that, no matter what happened… not to open it. You know what Leon was like.”

Was.

You feel your daughters move closer to you, still clinging to each other. You turn slightly to look at them. Your eldest can’t stop staring at the USB drive in your hand, clearly wanting to take it and put it into the computer herself. Your youngest just tugs at your sleeve to get your attention.

“Is that really from daddy?” she asks.

“Yeah, looks like it.”

“Is it… like a message?” she asks again, now looking directly at Sherry. “Is it a secret he didn’t tell us? Is he going to tell us there that he’s hiding because bad people are chasing him and that he’s not really dead?”

Dead.

You can see Sherry’s discomfort, and you understand it.

“I should go,” she says quietly. “There’s… a lot to do. Figuring out how we’re going to fix this—” she lifts her hand, darker than the last time you saw it. “And you… I guess you’ll have to start preparing… you know…”

You nod, though the truth is you don’t even know where to begin, or even if you’re even capable to begin preparing his funeral and everything that comes with his death.

Above all, you don’t know how to go on with your life without Leon after nearly thirty years.

You walk Sherry to the door. Before leaving, she hugs each of you and tells you that if you need anything, you go and call her no matter what it is, and no matter the time.

“Leon never stopped talking about coming home,” Sherry says, a little more composed now, offering a sad smile. “He loved you three. Don’t forget that.”

Your eyes burn, but you force yourself not to cry and, like her, you manage to fake a faint smile.

You end up placing the USB drive on the kitchen table, next to your eldest daughter’s unfinished homework, and run your hands over your face, desperate. Now that it’s just the three of you, reality is finally hitting you all at once.

Leon isn’t coming back.

Leon’s dead.

“Are you going to see what’s on it?”

You feel your youngest take your hand, and you hug her instinctively. Your eldest is gathering her homework, though her eyes never leave the USB drive.

You don’t answer, and you don’t dare say anything else the next few hours either. The only thing you do is make several calls, mostly to your relatives and some of Leon’s friends so they know what happened.

You don’t bother calling a funeral home because, without a body, you don’t even know if it’s worth having a traditional funeral. At least, that’s how you feel at that moment, but maybe in a few days…

You don’t know exactly when the girls fall asleep, both of them on the couch, clinging to Leon’s hoodie. You’re grateful they did because you know that’s the only way they can rest, even if their dreams will still torment them with their father’s death.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, staring at the USB drive still lying on the table.

You want so badly to grab your laptop and see what’s on it but, at the same time… you know this is it.

This will be all that’s left of your husband.

You won’t have anything else about him except what’s stored on USB drives from years ago.

“Okay… Guess it’s time to see what you put in here, Leon…”

You sigh and finally decide to stand up, though you move as if you’re afraid. You approach the table carefully, trying to make as little noise as possible so you don’t wake the girls. You pick up the USB drive with extreme care and, just as quietly, head for the stairs and go up to your bedroom.

You sit on your side of the bed and take the laptop from Leon’s side, unlocking it by entering your wedding date while avoiding looking at the wallpaper, where the four of you are smiling at Claire, who took the picture.

You insert the USB drive, and within seconds a single folder appears.

For them.

A knot tightens in your throat, and you feel unable to go on—but you do anyway.

You click on the folder. There’s only one video inside, though you can’t tell what it is—the thumbnail is just a black image.

You can’t click on it.

You’re not ready for a final goodbye, specially not one like this, but at the same time you know that, if you wait any longer, you might never be able to watch it.

You don’t think about it anymore.

You click on it and there’s Leon, sitting exactly where you are now, playing with his hands, nervous, avoiding the camera for the first few seconds.

You notice that even though he’s tired, even though he knows what might happen and why he’s recording that, he’s still smiling.

Your breath catches when you realize that, there, he was still alive, but now…

Leon leans forward, adjusting the camera before sitting back again and finally looking straight into the lens.

At you.

Your Leon, looking at you, as if nothing happened.

“Well…”

He lets out a soft sigh, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable.

“So… if you’re watching this… things probably didn’t go the way I hoped.”

Your vision blurs again. You cover your mouth to stifle a sob.

Leon exhales slowly, glancing from side to side as if he was looking for the right words.

“This isn’t something they taught me how to do when I worked for the government, you know?” he says, rubbing his hands together nervously again, letting out a small laugh. “How are you supposed to record a goodbye video without it sounding like a goodbye?” he sighs again. “There’s no happy way to do it, that’s for sure…”

He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

The nausea returns the moment he smiles at you.

“Hi. Hey, love.”

Those words break you even more, and this time you can’t hold back the tears. They start falling down your face quite quick.

You see his eyes linger on the camera, as if he’s imagining you there with him.

“I know you probably hate that I did this,” he continues softly. “Yeah, I know, you always say I prepare for the worst, and yeah, you’re right… but this mission’s different. And I think you know it as much as I do.”

You’re forced to set the laptop down on the bed, gripping your hands as they tremble uncontrollably.

“Yeah… I know,” he says quietly after a few seconds. “I know I promised I’d come back, and I meant it.”

Meant.

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“The truth is, right now… Yeah, today, fucking September 30th, while I’m recording this, I still believe that. But, if something happens… if this doesn’t go the way we expect…” his voice shakes. “I didn’t want you to be left without anything from me, even if it’s just this stupid goodbye video.”

“Leon…” you whisper, shaking your head through tears.

You watch as he lowers his gaze and reaches out.

You stifle a broken cry when you see the photo in his hand, the one of the four of you from last summer at the lake.

You’re sitting in a chair with your youngest on your lap, your eldest behind you, hugging you both. Leon is right beside you, his arms wrapped around all three of you.

The Leon in the video stares at the picture for a long time, his eyes shining. It breaks your heart to realize he’s holding back tears.

“This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” another sob escapes your lips. Any composure you had left disappears. “I know I don’t usually say things like this because… well, you know I’m not great at expressing my feelings. And emotional speeches aren’t really my thing either,” he carefully sets the photo on the bed and looks back at the camera. “But I think that today, of all days, you should know something: you saved my life.”

You can’t help reaching out to touch the screen, as if somehow you could comfort the Leon from the past.

“You made everything way easier for me.”

A tear slips down his cheek, and he doesn’t bother wiping it away.

“You gave me a home. You gave me two incredible daughters, and you can’t deny it… they’re my copies, so I’m glad you have two little ones that are exactly like me now that I’ll be gone,” he lets out a faint, tearful laugh. Your breathing falters even more. “I know that by the time you’re watching this, you three might be far from okay, but tell them a few things for me, or show them this video. Tell our oldest to stop pretending she’s strong and that she doesn’t have to carry everything on her own. And to our little one… tell her to keep bringing that joy like she always has. Oh, and let her keep my hoodies, we won’t have to fight over them anymore,” he laughs softly through tears. “Tell them that even I’m not there anymore…dDad will still be with them. Always.”

Leon falls silent again, though his expression shifts slightly.

“And, hey… of course I haven’t forgotten about you…” his voice softens. “I wish I could tell you this in person, but… I’m so sorry. I know you never wanted this kind of life, and that it was hard for you at first… and, still, you chose not just to stay with me, but to build a life with me. You know, I’ve never been afraid of dying, but what scares me most about all this is the thought of leaving you behind,” he exhales. “And, listen…” he sighs, and you find yourself doing the same. “Just letting you know that, no matter what, I’d choose you again. Every single time. Because you made my life worth living.”

You lower your gaze, crying, unable to stop.

On the screen, Leon reaches out his hand, as if he was trying to touch you. You can’t help but to the same as him, really feeling him in some way you can’t explain to yourself. 

“Take care of our girls, okay? And try to be happy again someday… for them, for me, and specially, for yourself.”

Leon sighs, then leans closer to the camera and presses a kiss to it.

“I love you. And I’ll always love you. See you in our next life, love.”

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! Feedback, as well as comments and/or reblogs, are very much appreciated! My inbox is also open in case you want to make a request or talk to me! 💖

"Hey, you're gonna be okay," he sounds like he's convincing himself of it, too. You must look pretty bad. Which is saying something, because Leon is covered in gashes and blood, the latter covering his body so much that you could no longer tell what's his and what isn't. 

"You okay?" You manage to get out, and he chuckles at you, eyes softening. You were on the verge of passing out, and asking if he was alright.

"You kidding? I'm the picture of health," his thumbs rub over your cheeks. He glances down at your torn open shirt, ribs covered in a gash deeper than he's ever seen on him or you before. You laugh weakly as he tears a bit of fabric from your already shredded shirt.

"You should take me to dinner first before ripping my clothes off me," you feel him wrap the strip around you, tying a secure knot to keep pressure on it.

"All the shit we've seen, I think we're past the dinner phase," he wraps his arm around you. "You think you can stand with me?" You nod, and he begins to lift you up to your feet. The room shifts violently, vertigo making you sway a bit. He moves closer, bracing you with his chest. "C'mon, I got you, baby. Let's get the hell out of here before you pass out on me." You try to pretend that even in your dazed state, the name baby doesn't send a flood of emotion through you.

It's a slow limp back to Leon's car, which is miraculously still there after all this shit. At least zombies don't know how to drive.

Leon basically lifts you into the passenger seat, but not before trying to lay you in the back. He quickly (willingly) loses an argument with you and your half slurred protests. He didn't want to waste time while you were actively bleeding, the once beige fabric now a deep red. It's easier to keep an eye on you this way, anyways.

You spend the entire drive answering Leon's questions, which you know is just a tactic to keep you conscious while he speeds to the nearest motel. Normally, you'd patch each other up in the car, but there were some stray infected wandering around, ones that had escaped your bullets. Leon didn't want to take any chances lingering around that hell hole. You're pretty sure he went near 100 miles an hour, but you're also drunk on blood loss, so maybe you imagine it.

Once you finally find a motel, Leon lifts you out of the car. You had started to be lazier and lazier in talking to him, so he bypasses any of your stubbornness by picking you up without comment. You need to be patched up now. You had barely registered him leaving the car briefly to retrieve a key and unlock the door before you were inside, and he deposits you gently on the bathroom counter against the aggressively yellowed wall, next to the world's grimiest mirror. He opens his massive first aid kit next to you, and you thank god for his insane level of practicality. You aren't exactly in the mood to walk into a drugstore to grab bandages and alcohol.

"Is it okay if I take this off?" He tugs at the hem of your shirt. You almost laugh. You either let Leon see you shirtless, or you bleed out and die. But you give him consent nonetheless.

Leon begins to peel away the makeshift bandage. You're so numb to the pain at this point, all you can do is shiver as he removes the fabric stuck in your open tissue.

"I'm gonna have to stitch you up," he murmurs, and you catch the look on his face that says it all. Guilt, worry. "I'm sorry."

"Nothin' to be sorry for," you close your eyes and wince at the antiseptic he swipes over your wounds. "You killed that asshole, I really should be thanking you." Leon just sighs through his nose as he threads a needle.

"This isn't gonna feel good," he moves in closer to get a better angle. Before doing anything, he grabs your hand and moves it to his shoulder. An offering of something to hold onto to distract yourself from the pain. He looks up at you to ask if you're ready and you grimace with a nod.

What follows is the longest 10 minutes of your goddamn life. You suppose that it's good you can feel every bit of it. It means your nerves aren't shot, and it shocks your system out of its exhaustion.

Leon dabs over the newly closed wound again with disinfectant when he's done, and the coolness, even with the sting, feels good against your hot skin. You shiver pleasantly as Leon's hands ghost over the rest of you, wrapping up your side, and searching for other injuries that may need tending to. Every scrape, minor cut, he's wiping it with disinfectant and carefully inspecting the severity.

"'M alright, Leon," you wave nonchalantly. "Got a killer headache, but I'm not gonna die."

"I wasn't so sure for a minute," he says, tucking your hair behind your ears.

"I could say the same about you," you smile softly, eyes combing over the cuts and reddening bruises littering his body as he begins to tidy up the medical supplies scattered everywhere. "You're one stubborn asshole, Kennedy."

"You're one to talk."

"Touché, emo boy," you grunt, knees almost buckling as you go to stand up. Leon catches you without hesitation. His hands rest securely on your hips, letting you use his chest for safety while you start to regain your balance. "Jesus, you've got a full-time job saving my ass."

"Don't pretend like you haven't done the same for me before," his voice goes soft. You're fully standing now, but his hands still grip at your waist. "Besides, you never owe me anything. It's just... not like that," he pauses before going further. "I don't know what I'd do without you." This is what may make you pass out, you think. You can feel your cheeks start to burn at the way he looks at you. Your eyes betray you, flickering to his lips, and you take a stutter of a few steps away, managing to flip on the shower without falling over.

"I'm gonna clean up," you spot the towels folded on the counter and suddenly find them the most fascinating thing you've ever seen. "Thanks for stitching me up."

"Don't mention it," there's a touch of dejection in his voice. Fuck. "You still feel okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you manage a smile. He nods with one last long look at you. There's an almost shy look on his face, something that's the antithesis of Leon these days. It's just been a long time since he's had that look. A thousand lifetimes ago, a rookie you met in the middle of an infected war-zone had that look. When he's around you, you see him come through a lot. Boyish grins. Soft chuckles at his own jokes.

The hot water feels like heaven on earth washing away the grime and blood, even via your half-assed sponge bath. A scratchy washcloth and cheap soap that has your skin uncomfortably squeaky clean aren't exactly your first choices for a shower. At least it's better than zombie goop.

You try your best not to let your mind wander, but it's hard not to. You dip your head under the faucet, letting the cheap shampoo rinse out, and let the popcorn ceiling become a canvas for everything you had just seen. The dead. The reanimated. Some of them children who had their lives ripped from them. The terrified look across Leon's face when he was across the room and was too far away to block the claws ripping at your side before you could even register it. The way his body went limp when being thrown into the ground. Tears welled in your eyes at the mere memory. You thought he had died. You really did. And in that moment, with your vision going in and out, you were struck with a pit in your stomach at the idea of having to do this, do anything, even wake up without that man's endless calls, his dumb jokes, his mere presence next to you.

You had acknowledged your feelings long ago, hell, you and Leon got drunk one night after a debrief and some heavy petting had ensued. You don't know if he remembers that; you only have foggy memories of sloppy touches and his body against yours. But it's enough to make you blush thinking about it.

It isn't impossible that he felt similarly towards you. You aren't stupid. But in this line of work, relationships like that aren't exactly ideal. Naming it would bring it fully to fruition. And the cruelness of the world would punish you for it, you fear. But the need for that certainty, the freedom of being open about that with him, and to be loved so candidly in return? It was overwhelming.

Eventually, you force yourself to be done. And soon realize that you need clothes that aren't ripped and covered in blood.

You wrap a towel around you and peek out of the bathroom. Leon had settled in one of the rickety chairs, eyes closed, brow furrowed. He looks up at the squeak of bathroom door hinges. His eyes flicker over your collarbone, your legs. You aren't sure if the heat down your spine is from the shower or his eyes.

"I had some extra clothes in my car," he brings you a pair of neatly folded sweatpants, a soft, worn shirt on top. You thank him and pop back into the bathroom to change. The outfit is clearly an extra set of gym clothes. Loose and comfy, with a hint of his cologne still lingering. You re-enter the main area of the room, and Leon swallows thickly at the sight of his clothes hanging off your frame. His mouth can't help itself.

"Cute," he says, so quietly you almost don't hear him. He follows it with a regular volume. "Feeling any better?"

"A little," you shrug, sitting down on one of the beds. The springs squeak obnoxiously under your weight. "Your turn."

"What? You think I stink?" He opens his arms, showing off every inch of now dried, brown bodily fluids across his body. "Would've never guessed."

As Leon showers, you stay stationary on the bed, wondering how on earth you'd be able to sleep tonight with remnants of anxiety lingering over you. It's not like you hadn't dealt with it before, but having nearly watched Leon almost die... you're pretty shaken up.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the bathroom door opens a while later, a freshly clean Leon padding out in an almost matching set of shirt and sweats to you. Cute.

The two of you don't talk much the rest of the night. Leon retrieves an utterly nutritious dinner of vending machine food with a generous helping of water, and you watch some rerun of a sitcom on the world's tiniest TV. The wrappers crinkling and soft voices on the television is enough to fill the space. It's a calm reprieve from all the chaos the two of you had been engulfed in the past few days.

It takes a few hours of laying in bed after your shitty dinner before you give up pretending to not know what would make you feel safe enough to sleep.

"Leon?"

Maybe he's already asleep.

"Yeah?"

Fuck.

"Would you-" You have to squeeze your eyes shut to get what you really need out. "Can you come over here? I... can't sleep." You don't explain further. You don't have to. He climbs into your bed without a second thought, laying on his side to look at you. The world seems to shrink down to just the mere inches between the two of you in this tiny, shitty bed.

"Thought I was gonna lose you earlier." Leon finally says.

"Me too," you meet his gaze. He looks at you, eyes kind. You can almost feel the static in the air between the two of you. "Don't do that again."

"I'll try my best," he scoffs with a smile. That rookie cop you met so long ago flashes in his expression. You feel like you could melt into the mattress. It only gets worse when he reaches out to touch your cheek. His thumb grazes over a scar just over the top of your cheekbone. He was there when you got it, and you can see his eyes flickering, thinking about that very same memory.

You can't believe what's happening when suddenly he pulls you into a tight hug. It takes you longer than it should for you to remember to hug back. He squeezes you close to him, and you can't help but wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers coming up to brush the hair at his nape. He shivers against you at the touch, and you feel brave enough to go further, gently stroking his hair. His fingers knead at your waist.

"Don't go anywhere," you mumble into his neck. He wraps his arms around you, holding you impossibly closer.

"I won't," he says, confidence ignited in his voice again. "As long as you stay here with me."

———————

You don't remember how long that lasted before the both of you fell asleep.

The late morning light shines through the barely opaque curtains, casting over the room in a golden glow. Leon's arm is still slung over you. You watch his chest rise and fall, brow devoid of the furrow normally persistently there. You brush his hair away from his face, and he leans into your touch. You smile. Everything felt right, despite the day before's events. Despite the ache in your body. Despite the shitty, bumpy mattress and the nicotine-yellowed walls around you. Next to this man, that's what it means to feel safe.

You grunt as you manage to sit up on the side of the bed, going to check on your injury. The bandage is dry and there's only a little blood peeking through. A good sign. It hurts like fucking hell though. You nearly jump when you feel a hand touch your hip on that side.

"How's it feeling?" Leon's voice rumbles deeply, gruff with sleep.

"Not too bad," you shrug. You turn to look at him already staring up at you. A bruise had begun to turn a deep purple near his chin. You reach out and rub your thumb over it. He leans into your touch, eyes closed. He looks like he's never been worried a day in his life. "They got you good."

"I've been worse," he mumbles. "I'm feeling pretty good right now, actually." A laugh falls from you lips. There's something so easy about the way he's laying it on thick now. Something so unspoken before seems to have broken through the normalcy, and it feels as average as saying hello.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah," he opens his eyes again to look at you. You meet his gaze this time without any hesitation. He covers your hand on his face with his, giving a squeeze as he sits up, moving closer. Your hand falls to his chest, and he's suddenly so close to you. Your eyes flicker to his lips again, and this time Leon doesn't take any chances. In a flash, he's kissing you like his life depends on it. Heat floods your body, your stomach turning over, your heart soaring. You let your body fall into his, and he takes you willingly into his arms. The kiss turns messy, frantic, and in an instant you're moving to climb on his lap. He groans against your mouth, doing his best to ignore the tent rising in his sweatpants. "We can't."

"Why the hell not?" You laugh against him, continuing to plant kisses everywhere you can get your lips on.

"Your stitches," He gently pushes you away, all kiss-bitten lips and heavy breathing. You're almost pouting, and it nearly has him giving in. "Don't look at me like that. The last thing I need is you bleeding out on me again."

"Would be worth it."

He chuckles, tilting his head back against the wall. His eyes don't leave you, scanning over your face. Enjoying the light flush of your cheeks, sitting on him. He commits this vision to memory. Every detail, every feeling. The fabric of his clothes covering your body, pressed up against him so comfortably like its a daily occurrence. Your fingers tracing his shoulders, his neck, his chest. The warmth of your skin underneath his palms. He's afraid he'll never get to feel this again. But it can't hurt to try.

"Hey," The lightheartedness is replaced by an air of something more serious, but still dripping with affection. "I love you. I'm tired of pretending like we both don't know it." The words leave his mouth before he has a second thought, and you go still. Here it is. Out in the open. You swallow hard. You're not sure if you're ready to dive in, but you do so anyways. It's the obvious impulse, just like jumping in front of a bullet for him is. Leon's eyes search yours for your reaction, and you can't bear to leave him in desperation for that long. You press a hard kiss to his mouth. He breaks it after a few blissful moments.

"Tell me, baby," he breathes so, so sweetly. There it is again. Baby. You've never heard Leon Kennedy beg before.

"I love you, Leon," you're surprised at how easy the words flow off your tongue, like it was just as natural as breathing. He kisses you again, a relaxed sigh escaping him. The tension in his body goes fully limp as he pulls you in, desperate to feel every inch of you against him.