𐂯

leon kennedy is a good man.

he goes to work, saves the world, and keeps in touch with his friends. he makes promises and does his best to keep them. he works on himself to get better just like a good man should.

he's gotten awards, made friends with people he saved, and the world continues to get better— all because of his involvement.

but a good man does not get nightmares of the people— if he can even call them that— who were killed by his hands.

he thinks about it sometimes; when he misses the burn of whiskey against his throat, and the tang of iron lingers in his mouth days after his body heals.

he thinks about what lives they could've led before the viruses took over their bodies. before they became things they never should've been.

he remembers having to put down a civilian girl, no younger than 18, all because of a leaked virus. he remembers having to axe down an undead mother from eating her own child, and he doesn't know how to feel about the look of hurt and betrayal that little boy had in his eyes as leon towered over the stench of decaying matter and rotting flesh.

he knows he did the right thing, just like a good man should, so why does it hurt so much?

he tries not to let his mind linger in things that'll only lead him to no good. he's learned many years ago from when he was still in the police academy that although empathy was a good thing, it was important to detach and move on.

but sometimes, he can't help it. even at his old age.

he remembers kendo; the helplessness he felt knowing he couldn't do jackshit as a police officer— but even now, as a seasoned veteran agent of the DSO, can he really say he's made a difference?

he remembers luis; the smell of smoke and his laughter filling his senses in dreams he wished he had more often— the faint feeling of a reality where he could've treated him to a nice pack of cigs makes his stomach sick in a way he can't linger on too long.

and god, he remembers sherry. for the little kid he saved, and for the woman he needs to save again. the black veins on his hands are a reminder of how far he's gone, but it's also a reminder of how much he lacks.

it's painful to know and remember, but it feels wrong for leon to just... move on and forget.

maybe he deserves it— these sick, twisted nightmares and thoughts are here to remind him of what he lacks and what he could've done.

because if leon kennedy was truly a good man, he wouldn't be plagued by the past.

can he really say he is a good man?

he goes to slave away at the hands of the people who ripped away his freedom, he saves the world at the cost of his own, and the only reason why he even has his friends is because they keep him grounded and aware— that he shouldn't relapse, he shouldn't try to die, and he shouldn't do things that hurt himself (or others). he makes promises he knows he can't keep, and yet he tries his best to keep them, even if he's basically betting on losing dogs. he wants to say he hasn't been drinking, but he knows that a good man doesn't lie.

he thinks about it sometimes. the thought of a bullet in his head— but of course, good men never think about things like that; and he's learned to push it down and move forward, because it's all he can do.

the identity of a good man who saves the world is the only thing he can cling onto now.

with that thought in mind, leon is stuck in a cycle of nightmares that continue to break away at his mind when the need of alcohol is too much to ignore and the weight of sobriety is on the verge of breaking him apart.

but it's okay. he'll forget all about these thoughts and nightmares when he's on another mission. they'll be tucked away at the farthest part of his mind— only to resurface when things get too much again. and that's fine with him.