#emotext

You were in so much pain, you were hollering and crying so hard you could barely get a breath in, and apart from holding your hand, he was powerless to help you. It was gutting.

"Shh, shh... you're doing so good, baby, just breathe with me, just breathe," He said to you, trying to manage his tone to be as reassuring as possible, but the stress had long since become him.

How could it not? He was watching his own lover split apart while conscious, pleading with the universe to ease the pain, even with an 18-gauge needle in the spine. You were miserable, and you were terrified, and Leon was terrified too. Perhaps even more than he'd ever been, because this wasn't supposed to be happening yet. He was supposed to have at least another month and a half to pamper you and watch you grow, at least another month and a half to prepare for this. 

Not to mention he wasn't entirely fond of the swarm of nurses in your face and between your legs, the rotating door of doctors and specialists working on your exposed body with absolutely no capability of understanding how important you were to him, how special and sweet you were, how little you deserved this.

It did occur to him, in the midst of all the noise, that perhaps this was the wrong idea. That he shouldn't have forced the one person he loves the most in the world to suffer like this on his behalf. That maybe he'd made a grave mistake that he could never atone for, a mistake that would surpass anything he's ever experienced in its devastation.

But all of those fears crumbled to ash when he saw her for the first time.

Monday, December 21, 2015. Winter solstice. 3:36 a.m.

She was so pink. She was so, so small, so pink, and so angry to be alive, but she was alive and crying. She was alive.

In that moment, Leon experienced whatever the opposite of blacking out was, a shot of pure adrenaline down his spine that made everything shine a little brighter. He didn't even realize he was crying with relief until he turned and saw that you were, too. You were barely cognizant, what with the delightful cocktail of shock and panic and pain medication coursing through you, but you were conscious and aware— at least for now— limp with exhaustion aside from clutching Leon's hand for dear life while the professionals got to work sewing you up, and he couldn't help but swipe your slick hair away from your forehead to shower you in tearful kisses.

"My good girl... I'm so fucking proud of you," He spoke into your hair, pressing a heavy kiss to the crown of your head as his free hand cradled your cheek, holding you as close to him as he could physically manage. "I love you so much... I love you..."

You weren't really registering much other than the pure relief of it all, but Leon couldn't blame you. In his eyes, he just witnessed you creating his entire universe, and you deserved all the rest you could get. You'd certainly need it in the coming months.

And even just the coming weeks, as many as it might take for her to incubate and grow a bit.

She was alive, and she was as healthy as she could be, considering the circumstances, but Christ, she wasn't even done cooking yet. She was so little, weighing in at just three pounds, seven ounces, and she looked more like a gummy bear than a baby. She was hooked up to so many machines in the NICU that he could barely stand to even watch after a while, for his own peace of mind.

But he couldn't relax, either, so Leon just stayed at your bedside for most of the night, watching you sleep. Killing time. Occasionally he would wander off for a walk up and down the halls, or to the cafeteria for a bitter black coffee to jump his brain, or he would linger by the window into the NICU for a while to watch her sleep, to see her pink and yellow baby blanket just barely rise and fall with every tiny breath so he could know for sure she was really here. And then he'd repeat his rounds all over again.

The nurses promised him over and over again that she was healthy, that there was no cause for concern at this point, but that didn't really stop him from concerning himself quite severely. He wasn't even sure he understood his own metric for what it would take to get him to relax at this point, so he just stopped asking questions after a while.

Walk the halls. Bitter black coffee. Check on baby. Walk back. Check on you. Wash, rinse, repeat. Eventually the nurses were looking at him like they were debating offering him an Ambien under the table just to calm him down, and perhaps because he'd grown so used to avoiding drawing attention to himself, that was when he finally decided to just sit his ass down at your bedside and stay there.

In his boredom he found that the TV was perpetually stuck on the Hallmark channel, streaming from an endless well of corny, poorly written holiday movies that left more than enough to be desired, but it was better than nothing. Leon couldn’t stand the silence, and at least it kept his mind somewhat occupied while he thumbed through that heavy book of baby names.

He’d already found one he liked— Abigail— but that still left room for one more. He couldn’t even decide if he thought that should be her first name or her middle name. All he knew was what the book told him, flowery words describing the meaning of the name as that of my father’s joy, and that was quite true, wasn’t it? She was his firstborn, and more than that, her mommy was you. Nothing in the entire universe could possibly stand to make him happier or more joyous, and thus Abigail was fitting. But how was he supposed to find another name to describe her when he hadn’t even had the opportunity to get to know her yet?

Or was this secondary name his opportunity to start a thread of her destiny for her?

It’s not like he never asked you for your opinion, you had just chosen time and time again not to give it to him. You were almost completely impartial when it came to talking about the baby, so regardless of how badly he ached for your participation in planning for the life you’d created together, he had long since become bitterly used to making decisions like this on his own.

With a deep sigh Leon let the book rest in his lap, fingertips drumming on the wooden armrests of his chair in thought of the kind of life he wanted for his baby girl. All he could think was that he wanted her to run, play, and be happy. He wanted her to be good to the world and he wanted the world to treat her even better in return. He wanted to ensure she’d never have to worry about a thing, that she would grow up kind and quick and a much better woman than he ever was a man.

He wanted her to be gentle and sweet and protected, like a princess, his jubilant little baby princess.

Lifting the book once more, Leon opened it back up to its table of contents and skimmed over the lines for the millionth time, only now he actually had a vague idea of what he might be looking for. The book was structured in sections, the first being cultural and regional names, the second being historical and literary names, and the last section was an alphabetized glossary of them all in one. It was exhaustingly organized and comprehensive to the last detail, but hey, so was he.

Tracing the page with two fingertips, he found the historical section of the table and went down the line, skimmed over architects, artists, explorers, war heroes, religious figures… all the way down to royalty.

Leon’s hope wavered a little bit when he found most of the names under that section to be underwhelming or flat-out bad when paired with ‘Abigail,’ but his mind had been set on that for so long that he’d already decided he wasn’t budging on it. He was toying with the idea of taking a break from his search for the night, until an entry on the list of princess names caught his eye. In his exhaustion, he must have previously overlooked it.

Charlotte.

“Charlotte Abigail,” Leon mumbled aloud, testing the name on his tongue. “Charlotte Abigail Kennedy…”

It flowed from his lips like a beautiful waltz.

The enticing scent of Leon's umpteenth black coffee was the first thing you noticed when you woke up, followed by the dull, full body ache that weighed you down to the hospital bed. Your head was throbbing, your eyes and throat were stinging and dry from overexertion, but more than that, you felt something like relief.

Yes, it was definitely relief, because any amount of pain in that moment felt like reprieve in comparison to active labor. And maybe you were still a bit fuzzy from the meds, but you weren't complaining.

Slowly, you blinked awake and took in your surroundings, the room quiet aside from the occasional beep of electronic medical equipment, and the subtle, rhythmic rumble of... Leon snoring?

Tilting your head, you saw Leon right there at your bedside, coffee untouched and still steaming on the little tray next to him. His legs were outstretched, arms crossed at his chest, and he had his head tilted back with that comically large book of baby names split open to rest over his face, blocking the fluorescent lights and rising sun from his tired eyes. You just watched him for a moment, knowing he'd likely spent all night fretting over you until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

For as much as you would have loved to just lay there and enjoy the quiet for a moment, though, you knew it was probably wiser to let him know you were awake. At least that way you could talk him into forfeiting his coffee.

"Hey," you spoke up gently, your voice hushed with sleep and a bit hoarse, "I'm pretty sure the shop in the lobby sells bookmarks."

He jolted a little and then stirred, gravity pulling the heavy book down until his arm shot up to catch it and lift it from his face with an exhausted look of surprise. "Y-You're awake—”

"Gimme that," you interrupted, arm outstretched in a dramatic show of grabby-hands at the paper cup of coffee placed just outside your reach. You could barely even remember the last time you were allowed a sip of coffee, and having to lay here smelling it but not tasting it when you so sorely needed it was torture.

Leon blinked once or twice in confusion, clearing away the haze that clouded his frayed neurons, and as his eyes followed the path between your fingertips and the shitty cup of black coffee he'd fallen asleep before having the chance to drink, he couldn't help but puff out a little laugh, handing it off to you without hesitation. For fuck's sake, you'd earned it, hadn't you?

The cup had been sitting there idle for just long enough that its contents weren't blistering hot, but perfectly drinkable. You took a quick sip, and then another, nose scrunching up for a moment because it tasted more like a dirty ashtray than it did coffee, but somehow it still went down like liquid gold. At least the taste was enough to keep you from drinking it too fast.

"How do you feel, pup?" Leon asked, tracing the curve of your cheekbone with a delicate thumb. As joyful as it was to see you awake and in decent spirits, he had to ask, because it's not like you were just waking up from any old nap. He watched you split apart last night. He could still smell your blood. Surely you had more to concern yourself about than caffeine.

Setting aside the cup, you searched your mind for the right way to articulate how you felt right now, but found it exceptionally difficult to encapsulate what all was going on up there after giving birth for the first time. So, you decided to start with how your body felt and work your way through it from there.

"Sore, like a bowling ball went through me... but it's not unbearable. I think the pain meds are still working," you began, tilting your head to let your cheek squish into the palm of his hand. "I feel a little numb and groggy."

With a sympathetic hum, he nodded, leaning over you to smooth your messy hair back and press a kiss to your forehead. "I'm not surprised, baby, you do seem a bit silly. They drugged you up pretty good," he said, speaking from experience, "but at least you're not in too much pain."

A beat of surprisingly comfortable silence passed between you two as you finished waking up and Leon just stared at you, as he often did. While the air between the two of you felt thankfully free of tension, it wasn’t without anticipation, nor was it without the presence of that massive elephant.

You knew she was okay because if she wasn’t, Leon would be having a nuclear meltdown, but you barely even got to see her before you passed out, so you didn’t know how okay she was. 

“Where is she?” You asked gently, hands fidgeting in your lap.

“She’s in the little incubator, but they said they could bring her in here when you woke up, if you were feeling well enough,” he answered, looking up at you through his lashes like a pleading puppy as he asked, “are you?”

You felt a rush deep in your chest that you couldn’t explain, emotion, and you found that your head was bobbing up and down in a nod before you even thought about it. You didn’t need to think about it. Of course your feelings about your situation and this baby were… complicated, to put it kindly, but you spent seven-ish months cooking the damn thing, so you might as well take the chance to hold her and get to meet her, right?

Leon didn’t waste any time scrambling off to get a nurse, and as you sat there waiting, you couldn’t help but wonder what she was going to be like. You weren’t ignorant of the fact that newborn babies didn’t have strong features yet, but you wondered if she would have any hair on her head, or what she would feel like in your arms, or what little sounds she might make. The few short minutes it took for Leon to return with your baby and a couple of nurses felt like a million years.

The door opened, and your heart stopped beating for a second. Your mouth dried and your eyes burned with tears.

She was so little.

Even swaddled up in a blanket, her tiny body was barely the width of Leon's forearm, her little head rested in the crook of his elbow while her socked and blanketed feet were tucked in the palm of his hand. Everything you felt in this moment was truly overwhelming— fright, nerves, and perhaps even a bit of pride, because come on. You made that thing. Willingly or not, you made your own little human, and in a removed context, that was crazy.

She was so little that you were almost afraid to touch her, trembling as Leon lowered her into your arms, but right away there was something about having her near that felt familiar to you.

Like an old friend.

For a long few minutes, you just cried. Deep, ugly, open-mouth cries that made your entire body feel weak. You couldn’t possibly get ahold of yourself, or even begin to understand how you were meant to.

Stooping down to kiss the crown of your head, Leon spoke gently into your hair, voice thick with emotion, “I-I named her Charlotte. Charlotte Abigail.”

Oh, how pretty. Internally you had to admit that he chose well, whatever his reasoning was.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” you sniveled, thumb caressing the thin, tender skin of her cheek, your chest throbbing as she squirmed and poked the tip of her tiny tongue out. “I-Is she okay? Are there any issues?”

The nurses calmly explained to you that she seemed to be regulating her temperature well enough on her own, but that the incubator was a precaution that would allow you and Leon the opportunity to get some actual rest. Her blood tests didn’t show any concerns and her oxygen levels were okay, but other than that, it was too soon to tell if anything else might be off, and they spared you the anxiety of getting too specific about the potential complications just yet. She would likely be spending at least 30 days in the NICU for good measure.

You, on the other hand, would be well enough to be on your feet as soon as the numbness wore off. That wasn’t to say it would feel good if you did, just that it was possible and wouldn’t kill you, though Leon would probably need to help you around for a few days… as if he needed the doctor’s order to do that.

Once they were sure you were healthy and comfortable, the nurses stepped out and for the very first time, it was just you, Leon, and your child.

“I’m so proud of you,” Leon whispered, watching you reverently. The sun had risen enough now to drench you in a saintly glow, your skin radiant and dewy with motherhood, your eyes glittering with tears as you gazed down at the sleepy baby cradled in your arms. “You’ve come such a long way, puppy, and just look at what you made for me. Look at what a perfect little angel you made for daddy.”

Letting out a slow breath from your nose, you resisted the urge to react to that. He’d done a pretty decent job of acting normal since you went into labor, and you didn’t realize how badly you were hoping he would keep it up until he ruined it with a brisk return to form. Perhaps the blame was on you for getting too comfortable with your expectations that high in the first place.

What felt especially unfair about it, however, was that his phrasing got beneath your skin more than you thought it would. Telling you that you’d come such a long way, and all because you made a perfect baby for him.

For daddy.

You’d only just had the chance to allow yourself to feel some kind of a bond with her, and Leon was already claiming ownership over it without a second thought. You wanted to snap at him that not everything was about him, that it wasn’t your goal to please him even if something you did made him happy, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to say any of it.

Charlotte hadn’t even been born for 24 hours yet, you couldn’t start fighting in front of her already.

You stood in front of the window with Charlotte swaddled tightly in your arms, letting her watch the glittery, falling snow outside in an attempt to calm her. She was red in the face and hollering with all the power in her little lungs— which was a lot, you’d come to learn— quite cranky about the fact that your milk was taking its time to come in. In defense of your boobs, the girls thought they were going to have eight more weeks to prepare than they ended up getting.

But at a certain point you just had to wonder when enough might be enough. You knew it wasn’t your fault, that your difficulty producing breastmilk so soon after going into premature labor didn’t reflect negatively upon your ability to love and provide for your daughter, so why did it feel that way? You were trying to keep ahold of your emotions for the sake of your daughter while wondering somewhere in the back of your mind if you were even fit to care for her, if it was your fault that she was starving.

“It’s common for newborns to lose a little bit of their birth weight in the first few weeks, especially waiting for mama’s milk to come in,” the attending nurse calmly explained to you as she changed the sheets on the bed. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, dear. There’s no guide to being a new mother.”

“Thank you,” you replied over the shrill cries of your daughter, letting some of the tension drop from your shoulders. Leon had told you nearly the same thing practically a thousand times over the past few days, but it was hard not to convince yourself that he didn’t know what he was talking about and was just spouting nonsense to make you feel better. It felt more legitimate coming from a professional.

Once she finished up changing the bedding, the nurse offered to take Charlotte for a while if you needed a break, but for right now, you didn’t really mind. Having her close was supposed to stimulate milk production, as you’d been told, and for lack of a better way to put it, you sort of enjoyed hogging her from Leon. He’d stepped out for the morning to check in at work and grab a few things from the house, so he wasn’t here to take her anyway, but you felt it was your responsibility to seize every available opportunity to bond with her. You needed her to know that you were there for her, that you weren’t budging, and that you never would.

Being alone with her was a treat. She really was so cute, just a teeny tiny little thing, and you could have already sworn she had your nose. She was pretty.

“Oh, Lottie, Lottie, Lottie,” you sighed affectionately, cupping the back of her head to cradle her close to your shoulder, gently swaying and bouncing on your feet. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

As expected, her only response was a continuation of shrill cries. Part of you worried that your presence wasn’t comforting her at all, but every time you slowed in rocking her or made any move that she perceived as you getting ready to put her down, she hollered louder and clung to you for dear life. Clearly she knew where her bread was buttered.

You crossed the room in slow, bouncing steps, trying to keep her distracted just long enough for you to sit down with her in the rocking chair. Little as she was, your arms were getting tired from holding her up, and you just needed a bit of a break from it. Pressing your lips to her soft forehead, you breathed in through your nose and began quietly singing to her.

“I’m… a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, an onion patch, an onion patch,” you hummed, “I’m a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, and all I do is cry all day… boo-hoo, boo-hoo…”

It was an old, old song, and you weren’t even really sure where you remembered it from, but Charlotte seemed to enjoy it, and it felt fitting enough right now. Dragging in a breath, Charlotte reached up to rub her eyes with her chubby little fists, wailing cries beginning to soften down to weepy whimpers. It was victorious moments like this that almost made you forget how you got here.

“Hey, sweetheart,” came Leon’s voice from behind, reminding you exactly how you got here, “how are my girls?”

Almost immediately, Charlotte started screaming again.

Sighing out an exhausted breath, you turned over your shoulder to watch Leon approach, trying not to let it show on your expression just how annoyed you were that he’d ruined her calming mood right after you managed to get her there.

“Cranky,” you answered him simply.

Leon clicked his tongue and moved to sit at the edge of the coffee table in front of you, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face with a sympathetic gleam in his eye. “No milk yet, huh?”

You shook your head.

“Oh, puppy… I’m sorry.”

The look on your face gutted him. He could tell you were blaming yourself in some way, feeling guilty for not being able to produce quite yet, but his mind wasn’t lingering anywhere near blaming you for this. You’d already been through so much just to deliver the baby— if anything, he’d be more surprised if these next few weeks were to proceed perfectly after that. You were a superhero to Leon right now, a goddess, and not even gods or heroes were exempt from hardship, from plain bad luck.

“It’s fine,” you said with a slow sigh, “the nurses swear we’re getting somewhere. There was some of this… I don’t know, like… clear, sappy stuff that came out this morning, and they said it’s good for her, so…”

Nodding gently, Leon took your hand and squeezed it, trying to get you to actually look at him. “Well, that’s a good sign, right?”

“I think so… I don’t know. I hope so.”

“I hope so, too, baby.”

A few moments of silence fell between you— aside from the screaming newborn, of course— and Leon continued to think about how proud he was of you. When he first brought you home with him, you were adamantly against the idea of having babies, let alone being pregnant at all. But you took it like such a champion, nourished and cared for your child anyway, his child, and even after going into labor unexpectedly early, your priorities and your focus still remained on her.

He couldn’t confidently say he’d have been as brave if it were him. That alone gave him a lot of reflecting to do.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Leon asked, squeezing your hand again. “Absolutely incredible.”

“I don’t know about that,” you puffed out a dry breath, finally looking up at him. “Women have been birthing babies for thousands of years. I’m no different from any of them, unless you count panic-attacking myself into early labor, and even then I’m not the first. And I definitely won’t be the last.”

Shaking his head in affectionate disagreement, Leon said, “As far as I’m concerned, you didn’t just hang the moon, you molded it with your bare hands. Just… take the compliment, pup. You deserve it.”

A slight smile graced your lips for just a second, like you briefly allowed yourself to believe what he was saying. As much as it pained him to think about, Leon knew you hadn’t been given a whole lot of incentive to take him at his word on anything, but when it came to the praise you’d earned for making him a father, for growing his baby in you, it was so important to him that you knew he wasn’t just talking out of his ass.

So he spoke up again, following his praises with a gentle, genuine question; “Why are you being so hard on yourself?”

This gave you pause. He wasn’t wrong by any means— you absolutely were being hard on yourself here, in every way you could think of. The ways you’d been talking about and carrying yourself since he came home from San Francisco were indicative enough of that. It was like you were cowering from yourself, avoiding every part of you that made you you, like a mouse in a lab finally recognizing which buttons would shock you.

“She needs me,” you finally muttered, cradling Charlotte closer to your chest, even as she screamed your eardrum out. “She depends on me, I can’t just… fail her.”

“Fail her?” Leon whispered, encouraging you to continue.

Swallowing back nerves, you suddenly found you were having a difficult time making sense of what you’d been feeling lately, let alone putting it into articulate words. Still, you replied to the best of your frazzled, tired ability, “She was supposed to have eight more weeks… she wasn’t ready to be born yet, and I freaked myself out so much that I put her at risk. I’m so grateful that she’s okay, that it didn’t end badly, but Leon… it could have. It really could have.”

“I know,” he soothed. “I know it could have, but it didn’t. It didn’t. Look at her, she’s here and she’s alive and she’s healthy. She’s got strong lungs. She’s got your nose. She’s perfect, sweetheart, she’s absolutely perfect, and that’s not in spite of you, it’s because of you. I’ll repeat that as many times as it takes for you to internalize it.”

That framing of the situation was surprisingly insightful, coming from Leon, though you supposed he’d had some practice in forgiving himself over the years.

Sniffling, you nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “T-Thank you… daddy.”

He leaned in to kiss your forehead, and Charlotte began to settle.

You were so confused when you woke up in the middle of the night to Charlotte crying again— not because of anything she was doing differently, but because of how you felt. Sitting up in bed, you briefly glanced over at Leon to find that the commotion had roused him too, stirring him from a light sleep.

“I can get her,” he was quick to rasp out, voice clouded with grogginess, but for once, you put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“No, no, wait,” you whispered, your other hand kneading at your sore chest in an attempt to soothe the discomfort, but this wasn’t the same kind of breast pain you’d grown used to by now. They were tender and full to the touch, nipples stinging under your nightgown.

And leaking.

Eyes widening, you shot out of bed with a quiet, excited exclamation of, “oh, shit,” not even taking the time to mull over how silly it seemed to be so ecstatic that your nipples were leaking milk through your favorite nightgown. All you could think about right now was her. You could finally sate her hunger.

Leon sat up too, rubbing his eyes and leaning over to turn the bedside lamp on, trying to wake himself up enough to understand what you were acting so urgently about. Only once Charlotte’s cries were silenced and replaced with a soft, greedy suckling sound did he realize what was happening.

“Oh,” he gasped, stunned, “shit.”

You just laughed, completely unable to wipe the stupid grin off your face. Feeding for the first time felt really fucking bizarre, but with how happy you were that your daughter was finally able to eat, you couldn’t bring yourself to care even slightly. That was far from the biggest thing on your mind.

“She’s eating,” you beamed, turning over your shoulder to look at Leon, desperate to share this moment with the only person who could truly understand your relief. “She’s eating, Leon, she’s— she’s perfect. Holy shit.”

“You’re perfect,” he smiled wide, crawling out of bed to join you where you stood by the crib, his strong arms slinking gently around your waist. Pressing a kiss to the highest point of your cheekbone, Leon whispered in your ear, “I knew you could do it, puppy. I love you, I love you both so much.”

And now you were crying. You couldn’t help it.

Charlotte fed for a good long while that night, gulping down every stray drop she could find, and you and Leon just watched her in complete awe. She could barely keep her eyes open in her satisfaction, long lashes fluttering angelically upon chubby cheeks, her squishy little lips bobbing back and forth with every suckle as you both cooed at her and cheered her on.

Wiping away a drop of milk from her chin, Leon preened, “Oh, little Lottie… such a good eater, princess, my goodness…”

“Such a good eater,” you echoed, adding playfully, “must’ve gotten that from your daddy. He gets grouchy without breakfast, too.”

“Hey now, it is the most important meal of the day,” he pointed out to his own defense, very much in on the joke, though he couldn’t help but add another cheeky point that was reserved only for your ears. “Well… the second most important meal of the day, right behind dessert.”

Groaning, you rolled your eyes at him, “Cornball. You’re a horny, horny cornball.”

He only smirked, “Guilty as charged, pup,” and kissed you again.

Your mood improved a lot over the next several days, and Leon was so grateful for it. The timing couldn’t have been better for squashing your insecurities about being able to care for Charlotte. Waking up to feed her wasn’t something that stressed you out anymore, it was something that made you feel useful and needed, which you always were, but now you truly believed it. Leon joked more than once that he’d never seen you happier to whip your boobs out at any given time.

You were eating well, you were laughing, you were getting lots of good rest, and you were actually talking to him. Like, talking talking, not just nodding your head and pretending to follow along. You told him about your day, you told him how you were feeling, you commentated on TV shows together. Your unanticipated stay in the NICU was turning out to feel a lot more like a dream than a nightmare, and as such, he was almost reluctant to see it end.

But time marches on, as it always does. Part of him worried you’d go right back to being difficult once you were home and the novelty of new parenthood wore off. Part of him wanted to trust that you wouldn’t, because you truly understood everything now. Didn’t you?

The final week of Charlotte’s monitoring was dwindling down, and now that he wasn’t so preoccupied with worrying himself sick about you both, he couldn’t stop thinking about what you said to him before you went into labor.

‘Daddy, I have to tell you something.’

Whatever it was, you never told him. In the chaos of everything that happened right after, he almost forgot you even mentioned it, but it’d just been gnawing at him since the dust settled.

Leon wasn’t sure how to approach this with you. Talking about it clearly distressed you last time, even though you brought it up on your own, and he didn’t want to risk setting you off, but the intensity of emotion it brought was undoubtedly indicative of its importance. By principle, you should tell him if there’s anything he needs to know, right?

Maybe it wasn’t all that important. Maybe your reaction at the time was just a product of your condition, the hormones and anxiety, and maybe you hadn’t even thought about it since that night. Maybe it really wasn’t a big deal.

So why had it been so obviously eating you alive during the final leg of your pregnancy?

“Baby?” Leon asked quietly, tilting his head to look at you. It was three in the morning and you were laying in bed together after Charlotte finally fell back asleep for the millionth time, partly trying to get some more rest and partly preparing yourselves to have to get up again at any moment. But it was peaceful, and he hoped that would mean you were calm and comfortable enough to have this conversation.

Humming in acknowledgment, your eyes met his. He had his arm around you, thumb caressing you at the waist, your cheek against his chest. It was now or never.

“I’ve just been thinking lately… the night Lottie was born, you said you had something to tell me,” he began, pouring all his effort into coming off as non-threatening as possible, careful not to spook you. “The little lady interrupted you and I never got to hear what it was. Do you remember, sweetheart?”

At first you couldn’t move, completely paralyzed in his arms. Your initial inclination was to panic, of course, but for once in your life, the nerves weren’t manifesting like they probably should have been.

Or, rather, like they definitely should have been.

You resumed breathing, biting your lip while you tried to organize your thoughts and come to a decision. It would be a tough shot to lie right now, you knew that, and while you would have usually tried to come up with a convoluted way to worm yourself out of this, for some reason, you didn’t even really feel the need to right now. Leon had been in a great mood. You were pretty sure he hadn’t stopped smiling since Charlotte was born, and even leading up to her birth, he had been acting so gentle and loving with you.

But you still needed to cover your bases if you were going to be honest with him.

“Do you remember saying that whatever it is, we’ll handle it? That I wouldn’t be in trouble?”

Uh oh, Leon thought to himself, but didn’t dare let it show on his expression. That’s not a great start.

“I do,” he nodded encouragingly, “and that still stands.”

All you had was his word, and that was going to have to do, wasn’t it? Taking a deep breath, you tightened your arms around his middle as if preemptively pleading for mercy, and then you quietly admitted, “I-I broke the rules while you were away on that mission.”

He figured as much while speculating on what it might have been, so this didn’t really floor him too much yet. “Okay. What rules did you break?”

You hesitated for a beat, looking away to collect your thoughts and then back again, hoping he could see the guilt in your eyes, the regret.

“I went outside,” you whispered, feeling an awkward and unpleasant heat burning at your ears— shame. “I-I went on a walk, a long walk, and…”

Now it was Leon who wasn’t breathing. “And?”

“And I tried to get h-help.”

There it was. You tried to get help. Help. As if you needed any fucking help when you had Leon.

But then again, he thought, she didn’t have me. I wasn’t there.

His bottom lip quivered until he bit it back, stooping his head down to bury his face in your hair, hiding, both arms holding you tightly to him. He wasn’t sure how to feel. He thought he was prepared for anything you might have to confess, but this… this was devastating. This felt awful.

“God fucking damn it, puppy,” he wept, “what were you thinking?”

The realization that he was crying made you tear up too. He wasn’t angry, he was anguished.

“I-I’m sorry… I know, I’m sorry—”

“Did anything happen? Did anyone see you? Did anyone touch you?”

“No, no, n-nothing happened, no one touched me, I promise—”

“Don’t you ever do that shit again,” he sobbed weakly into the crown of your hair, clutching you to him like you’d fall apart if he let go, or perhaps like he would fall apart. “Do you hear me?”

You just nodded, stifling your cries with a hand over your mouth to keep from waking the baby. She was sleeping so peacefully in the crib a mere few feet away.

“I hear you, I hear you, I promise I won’t ever do it again… it was freezing and I was so scared, I… I couldn’t get home fast enough…”

Home. Was that what it was to you now?

“Good,” Leon said firmly, but not apathetically, sighing out a deep, shaky breath. “You don’t just have yourself to worry about anymore.”

You and Leon were practically tangled with one another, stuck together like glue as you desperately tried to soothe each other. Silence fell around you again.

It wasn't at all difficult for Leon to talk his way into some time off after what happened in San Francisco- - the D.S.O. owed him big time for the damages to his Ducati and his psyche, and with the nightmare of a cover-up they already had on their hands as a direct result of an incident like that occurring on U.S. soil, Leon was the last of the government's concerns. For once, that worked out in his favor. 

Naturally, every spare second of time he now had was spent attached to you like a leech... often more literally than figuratively. 

"F-Fucking Christ," Your jaw unhinged in a needy cry, hot tears leaking from your eyes which had been rolled far back in your lids for a while now, a length of time you couldn't possibly approximate if you tried. 

Your arms were shaking with strain as you reached over your taut, pregnant belly to claw at Leon's hair, yanking him closer, desperate to soothe that nagging ache of desire that had plagued you constantly as of late. He had one broad hand pinning your left thigh to the bed while the other alternated between gripping at your hip and smoothing over your bump. 

Pulling away from your cunt to gasp for air, his lips rosy and swollen and gleaming with you, Leon's fingertips printed hard into your skin, but never enough to hurt. "God, look at you," He mused, trailing a line of wet kisses from the hood of your clit to the highest point of your round belly. "Really popped while I was gone..." 

In the absence of his mouth, his calloused fingers sank deep into your hole, feeling absolutely no resistance with just how deliciously slippery you were. 

Spreading your legs as far as he could with one hand otherwise occupied, Leon ground the heel of his palm against your engorged clit while pumping in and out of you, nipping at the plush, warm flesh of your tummy as he cooed, "Aren't you just a pretty little puppy mama, stuffed up nice and full with daddy's baby? Couldn't hide that gorgeous belly anymore if you tried, huh? Poor thing..." 

Something changed between you and Leon following his return from California. Months ago, a statement like that from him would have made you start angry crying. You always used to hate it when he would rub your helplessness in your face just to break you down-- as most people would-- but now it held a certain kind of catharsis to just go along with it. 

Maybe it was because his intentions felt different now, too. Given your pitiful track record, you didn't feel comfortable asking him what happened while he was gone, but you had gathered that something happened to shake him. 

He was clingy to begin with, became even clingier when you got pregnant, and now he was tightening his grip again. Except this time, it didn't feel quite as aggressive or controlling as usual, it felt desperate. It felt fearful, but it also felt relieved, like kissing the tarmac after a particularly turbulent flight. 

Worse yet, your demeanor toward him wasn't much different. At this point it didn't seem as though he knew about your outing, and for as sweet as he had been since the second he returned home, you were terrified that he could somehow find out and snap at any moment. 

So, you threw everything you had into gaining his good favor, proving to him that you were a good, obedient pup who would never dare take advantage of his trust in you to do something so stupid and dangerous, and maybe then, if he were to find out, you could preemptively soften the blow. Maybe he would see that you had learned your lesson, that you corrected your behavior on your own and understood the error of your ways, that you understood the importance of following daddy's rules and had long since learned the hard way never to question him again. 

It ate you alive a little bit to keep it from him, for fear that your failure to be honest with him might come back to bite you later, but you didn't feel particularly inclined to walk yourself into a punishment over a mistake you had absolutely no intention of ever repeating, either. 

Your vision blurred white as his tongue slipped back down to flutter over your clit, his long, thick fingers reaching deep into your guts to untangle the delicate thread of your arousal. He was groaning in response to the flavor of your essence, the vibration sounding through your whole body and carrying electric pops of pleasure with it, your own wanton cries melting in with the chorus of wet noises that accompanied his devouring of you. 

"Fuck, you're so fucking perfect," Leon panted into your folds before stooping forward to seal his lips over your bud once more, drinking you in with an obscene slurp. "My blushing, breeding bride..." 

"Daddy," You cried out, voice light and airy with need as you rutted up toward his face and devolved into mindlessly repeating yourself, "Gonna cum, gonna cum, g-gonna cum..." 

He chuckled, hooking his fingers inside you abruptly just to send your poor, dumb little puppy brain spinning out and to coax more of those precious noises from you. "Oh, are you?" He teased. "Are you gonna make a pretty little mess all over daddy's fingers, darlin'? Gonna give daddy something sweet to lick up?" 

He hadn't even finished speaking and you were already nodding, the upward lilt of his tone being the only thing it took for your hazy brain to know you were being asked something, which naturally meant that whatever it was, the correct answer was yes. You weakly tried to grip at his hair again, only to draw an amused puff of laughter from him as he watched you struggle. 

"Can't even reach over that bump now? Oh, poor princess... Looks like daddy bred you up too good, didn't I?"

Whimpering, you nodded, giving up your attempt to grasp at his hair in favor of the simpler option, allowing your shaking hand to rest over your swollen stomach as you came undone. Being seven months pregnant was no fucking joke, as you'd come to learn, and while you'd spent the bulk of your pregnancy so far obsessing over your discomfort with the physical changes, recently your self esteem had very much taken a backseat to all the other bullshit that came along with growing a baby. 

Your boobs hurt. Your back hurt. Your hips hurt. You were waddling more than walking, you couldn't stop crying, you constantly wanted to fuck, and to top it all off, you were beginning to leak strange fluids from your vagina and your nipples on occasion. With everything you had going on, you couldn't possibly handle worrying about your appearance, too-- at least you could sleep at night knowing you never had to worry about giving Leon the ick. 

Writhing and twitching as Leon dragged your orgasm out for as long as he could manage, the room was spinning around you, your jaw dropped in a high pitched cry of his title on repeat until you had no choice but to gasp a breath in. He continued to pump in and out of you down to the knuckles while he sipped from your cunt like a fountain, knowing you could take it-- or rather, that you would take it. 

"One more f'me, doll?" 

A deep, guttural shiver tore through you. It didn't matter whether you were to agree or not, because you knew it wasn't really a question anyway, so you didn't bother giving him a clear answer. You just clawed at the sheets and tried to prepare for what he decided to give you. 

His denim eyes darkened, pupils swallowing up much of the familiar color as he zeroed back in on your dripping sex with fierce determination. Locking his arm around your thigh, he dragged you down the bed until you were pressed flush against his face, the bridge of his nose bumping against your puffy, sensitive clit with the motion. The veins in his bicep rose beneath his skin as his muscles tightened to pin you firmly in place, and then he took off like a wind-up toy car. 

It was like you were watching him surrender control to something other than himself in real time. The fire alarm could have started going off right in that moment and you figured he wouldn't have even flinched, at least not until he'd had his fill of you, not until he'd delivered upon that promise to work just one more from your poor little body. 

"You're always dripping wet when you're being good, baby," He praised, licking his lips salaciously at the taste of you on his tongue as he continued lazily pumping his fingers in and out of your drooling cunt. "I bet you were so horny without daddy around to keep you sated..." Leon unexpectedly withdrew his fingers, admiring how they gleamed with your juices before bringing them up to smear a stripe across the mound of your full stomach. 

But the digits returned almost as quickly as they were withdrawn, stretching you open with a third and sucking your clit up into his mouth simultaneously, silky tongue catching every last little drop of arousal that dared to leak out of you.

Leon groaned softly, his cock twitching eagerly in his boxers. The sight of you squirming on the bed with a puffy bellyful of puppies that he put in you was almost enough to drive him wild-- knowing that he was the only source of relief from your raging lust was enough to drive him insane and then some, fueling his obsession limitlessly. 

"Just beg nice and pretty for daddy, baby. Beg for me to stuff you up with babies so you don't feel alone." He instructed firmly, two fingertips taking an aching pace at your clit as he spoke. 

You didn't usually like giving Leon any wins. It just wasn't your style... or at least it didn't used to be. 

But you did anyway. You writhed and convulsed and shattered practically on command, your vibrating thighs attempting to stick shut around his head as the noises that fell from you melted down into mindless babbles, and unabashed begging. Before that mission, he would have moved to stop your thighs from shutting him out, but not now. Not since everything changed.

A car door opened and shut, a set of keys jingled, the lock clicked, and you couldn’t move, just staring wide-eyed at the door from the base of the stairs as it swung open to reveal your captor, who froze at the sight of you, too.

His duffel bag dropped to the floor beside him, long forgotten in Leon’s mind as he feasted his eyes upon the image of you for the first time in over a month— or at least for the first time since his phone broke. He nearly fell to his knees with relief. 

“Oh, puppy,” He sighed out, tears pricking at his tired eyes, overwhelmed with the insatiable need to feel you in his arms again. In just a few short strides he crossed the distance between you and embraced you so tightly, it was almost crushing. 

Euphoria, pure and uncut, a high unachievable in this universe by any other means. That was the only way Leon could think of to describe what he felt in that moment. 

Pulling back to look at you, he cupped your jaw with one hand while the other pushed its way up beneath your shirt, finally feeling the soft, round warmth of your bump under his hand again, and he almost could have sworn he felt a little kick. He was beaming now, vibrating with excitement, almost at a loss for words entirely. 

Almost. 

“My beautiful fucking wife,” He laughed, a single tear breaching the threshold of his eye to drip down over his reddened cheek. “You’ve grown so much…”

You couldn't argue with him there. It felt like you'd doubled in size since he last saw you, your ripening belly putting every shirt in the house to the test over the several weeks he'd been away, and you weren't even done cooking yet. Not nearly.

Now he really did fall to his knees, and Leon's hands came forward to tug your shirt up, baring your rounded middle to him. In no time at all, his lips were scattering across the smooth surface of your skin like delicate rain, his warm hands cradling either side of your stomach as he hoped to himself that he might feel his child kick again, that he might feel them squirm. His lids fell shut as though he were in a dream, or maybe he was reminding himself that he wasn't.

The entire time you felt like you were holding your breath. You didn't know what to say. You didn't even know how to feel. You couldn't tell if you were going to throw up from relief, or from fear. Maybe from guilt? Regret? 

Or was it just from the root of his progeny in you? You just didn't know, and as the minutes melted away from you, it all began to collapse into itself until your skull became an echo chamber of blaring alarms and racing thoughts and... and... 

"Daddy, I m-missed you," You choked out, one hand coming down to thread into his hair while the other raised up to your mouth, quieting your cries. You weren't even sure if you were just saying that as a defense mechanism, or if you actually meant it, and you couldn't even bring yourself to care. Maybe you did mean it, if only a little. "I-It was so quiet, it was so quiet..." 

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," He spoke against your taut skin, locking his arms around your hips to tug you even closer, his cheek squished up against you. He was well over a week out from his last shave, the gruff shadow on his face tickling you as he continued, "I don't ever wanna have to leave you like that again, baby. Never ever. I'm so sorry--" 

"W-What if you didn't come back?" You cut him off, bottom lip wobbling, "How long was I supposed to wait? What was I supposed to do?" 

He shook his head at this and cut you off firmly, determined to nip that line of thinking in the bud. "Don't say things like that. It didn't happen that way and it's never going to, do you hear me?" 

"W-What even happened?" 

"Do you hear me, puppy?" 

For a moment, you hesitated. Wasn't the whole issue with his job that he had absolutely no power? That there wasn't an assignment he could turn down, or a day he could take off, or a report he could slack on, or an order he could defy? How could he say with any certainty that this wasn't going to happen again? That it might not be worse next time? 

And why did you even care? 

Weeping, you nodded. "I h-hear you. I hear you, daddy."

"Good," Leon's right hand rubbed measured, soothing circles along your belly, subconsciously mapping the feel of your gravidity beneath his palm. He would keep you just like this forever if he had the power to, heavy and radiant with his fruit, though he couldn't wait to meet the growing baby in there, either. It was a constant struggle of the mind. "I don't wanna miss one more second of this."

And as such, he wouldn't. 

"Shit," Leon grumbled under his breath, standing aside to observe the shelf he'd just hung on the wall before turning over his shoulder to gauge your opinion; "Does that look level to you?" 

Humming in thought, you took a step back to get a better perspective. Now able to compare the little white shelf with the rest of the nursery decorations on the pale, lemonade colored wall, it became quite evident why he was concerned-- it might as well have been diagonal. 

"It's pretty skewed to the left, babe," You answered him honestly, one hand perched to support the small of your aching back while the other rested atop your belly. 

Narrowing his eyes in concentration, Leon joined you where you were so he could look at it from your angle, and yeah, it was pretty fucking off. With an exasperated puff of laughter at his own expense, Leon shook his head and approached the wall again to start taking the screws out. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I didn't go into carpentry." 

You laughed too, because he was right. Every last one of those little wall decorations had been a headache to put up, and the furniture was another thing entirely. Just days ago you spent an entire afternoon watching him lose his mind over the incoherent instructions included with the crib you'd begged him to order, hence why it took him half the week to cool off enough to deal with the shelving. 

"Well, if you would just let me try..." 

But he was already shaking his head 'no' before you made it more than three words through that sentence. He gave you an affectionate look of disapproval before reminding you, "Nope, no way. Pretty puppies don't get to play with sharp tools and heavy things." 

You poked your tongue out at him playfully, he poked his right back out at you, and then returned his attention to the task at hand. 

With your input, Leon adjusted the shelf and stepped back to observe it again, nodding in satisfaction only once you did too. "Happy with that?" 

"Maybe," You grinned, "Can I put the stuff up there?" 

Leon raised a brow, "You think you're tall enough to reach?" 

"Probably not... but you could lift me?"

He softened at this. Leon would be a fool to pass you up on such an adorable request, although he couldn't help but give you a deep, playful sigh anyway as he opened his arms to you. "Alright, princess. Hop up." 

You were all too giddy to do so, letting him lift you up by your hips to reach the shelving. One by one, he handed little trinkets off to you for proper placement, his muscles bulging against his shirt but not even shaking beneath your weight. It was equal parts sweet and a reminder of your weakness in comparison to him, which you felt quite numb to by now, for better or for worse. 

Once you had both feet back on the floor, the afternoon melted away in the nursery. With your due date creeping up faster and faster, the preparation felt never-ending, like every time one thing got scratched off the list, another three were added. But in a weird way it was sort of nice-- it gave you both something to do, and whether or not it made sense, you actually worked quite seamlessly together. 

Every onesie, every set of sheets, every furniture piece, every toy, every binky and bottle and blanket had to be washed and sanitized and then washed again, and put into place. If it didn't yet have a place, one had to be arranged for it. Every outlet had to be plugged with safety covers, every cabinet had to be childproofed, every sharp corner had to be padded. As expected, Leon was unwilling to take any risks, and you supposed you couldn't blame him. You didn't really want to take any either, knowing the remainder of your life was about to be judged by your ability to raise Leon's children. 

What else were you supposed to do, though? Leon sucked, the kidnapping sucked, the IUD thing sucked, the pregnancy thing sucked, everything sucked. But unless the universe would decide to cut you a break by smiting Leon where he stood, your situation would remain unchanged for the foreseeable future, and you just had to deal with it. Like it or not, you nailed that coffin shut when you came crawling back home that day. 

And honestly, you still weren't entirely convinced he didn't know you tried to escape. He hadn't said a word about it, he hadn't even alluded to it, but it was still like you physically couldn't stop yourself from overanalyzing his every move just in case. At the same time, you were constantly filtering yourself, playing the perfect princess, strategizing your every word until you couldn't even remember how you felt before you started acting. 

Sometimes you wondered if you even were acting anymore. 

Times like now, as you relaxed in bed together at the end of the busy day, each of you propped up against the headboard and engaged in your own task. Leon was flipping through a book of baby names the size of an encyclopedia while you worked your way through the unnecessarily excruciating crossword puzzle in today's newspaper, your pen slipping into the next box over when a particularly strong kick to your organs caught you off guard.

You let out a barely audible oof, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as soon as the pain dulled-- the first several times you felt your baby moving in there felt like a horror movie, but now that you'd made it well into your third trimester, it was a sensation you'd become quite exasperated with. You weren't a monster, of course, and even you found it sort of cute after a while, just not while you were trying to relax... or focus. 

Or not get kicked in the ribcage, which was most times. 

"You okay?" Leon asked softly, reaching out to rest his hand on your bump. 

"Yeah," You huffed, sitting up a bit to get more comfortable and hopefully soothe the unborn little one, your hand coming to squeeze his own in the process. "She's just training for her black belt or something." 

It came out so easily you didn't even think about it, like discussing the weather. But your phrasing certainly didn't make it past Leon. 

He froze, setting his book aside to look at you in complete bewilderment. "She?"

"What?" 

"Did you just say she?" 

Oh, yeah. Huh. Fuck. 

For a moment you just stared at him blankly, unsure whether you were about to be in trouble, and his expression wasn't really giving you any pointers. Nervously, as you'd come to be conditioned by now, you just blurted out the truth, "Y-Yeah, I did." 

Outwardly, you were frozen just as solid as he was, but inwardly, you were bracing yourself for nuclear fallout. After all, that's what you'd done that for in the first place, right? To irk him? To hurt him? To get under his skin? 

But suddenly you were retroactively regretting that decision. Just as soon as you said it, you were silently drafting an apology, maybe even an excuse. Maybe you could tell him the doctor just said it without even asking. Maybe you could blame it on nothing more than a slip of the tongue-- you just wanted a girl so bad that you must have said it without meaning to... but not even Leon would believe that. 

Right as you were drawing in a breath to respond, Leon spoke first. His gaze was intense with emotion, tipping your chin up so he could meet your eyes and ensure you got a good sense of his elation. "Pretty puppy, are you serious? We're having a daughter?" 

You were glad he forced you to look into his eyes, because what you found there was unexpectedly disarming. It wasn't rage, or betrayal, or authority, like you'd been preparing yourself for. It was vulnerable and adoring, hopeful, like the only reason he even asked was out of fear that the answer might be no, and any expressed excitement would be for nothing. 

"Yeah," The tension in your posture dissolved, "We're having a daughter."

A broad smile set in across his face, his eyes welling with tears as he regarded you with both hands on your belly. Shortly thereafter, you were both surprised by the distinct feeling of your unborn daughter landing a kick beneath his palm, and that really did him in. Leon was all but weeping now, lavishing your baby bump in smooches and happy tears. 

Leon genuinely didn't go into this with a preference on the sex of his first born. He wasn't concerned about 'male heirs' or any of that other macho bullshit. He just wanted his darling wife, and a whole brood of healthy, happy babies. Knowing now that the seed he'd planted and nurtured so lovingly in your womb was growing into a girl, a beautiful baby girl, he felt like he'd just had the wind knocked out of him in the most incredible way. 

A daughter. You were giving him another beautiful angel just like yourself to protect and adore. Christ, he was so overjoyed that he didn't even entertain the idea of asking you why you didn't tell him until now, because he didn't care. He should have been there in the first place instead of letting himself get infected like an idiot, instead of rotting away on the cell block floor at Alcatraz while you were all by yourself learning the sex of your baby. His baby. 

What a fucking let down, He thought to himself. What a complete and utter fucking let down. 

Nearly a year he'd spent trying to convince you he would always be there to hold your hand, that he would take care of anything and everything for you, especially as far as supporting your pregnancy was concerned, and he failed you. You went into this scared to death of him and becoming a mother, yet you placed all of your trust on his promise to ease your burdens, and he failed you. 

You trusted him, and he failed you. His darling little puppy mama, his beloved wife. He could hardly breathe. 

"Y-You shouldn't have been alone," He choked out, lips brushing over the surface of your skin. "My two sweet princesses... I'm so sorry. I-I can barely even think about it." 

Of all the emotions you expected from him in this moment, remorse certainly wasn't high on the list. You couldn't do anything but just watch him at first, stunned, and briefly wondering if he was testing you. But there was no way, right? Leon didn't strike you as the type to be able to cry on command-- he barely even cried when he needed to. Maybe you should just accept the win of getting anything resembling an apology from him. 

You swallowed that paranoia back, having convinced yourself enough to relax for now. Threading your fingers through his hair, noting silently to yourself that he was probably overdue for a cut after his last mission, you attempted to soothe him with his own reassurances to you, "Don't think like that, okay? You're here now, we're all safe, and it's never going to happen again. That's what matters."

He knew you were only saying that to make him feel better, but it melted his heart just as much that you were trying at all. Not long ago, you would have been content to just watch him hate himself. You might have even thought he deserved to.

And you did, of course, just not for this. He had a lot of things to be sorry about, and his scary government job that he had no control over just wasn't one of them. Over the months you'd managed to gather that Leon dealt with a lot of guilt around the people he couldn't save, and probably also the people he'd been forced to hurt. Even if it wasn't technically a direct result of his occupation, you were beginning to realize that what he'd done to you wasn't exempt from that laundry list of regrettable life choices. 

What you felt toward him these days wasn't exactly sympathy... but it wasn't exactly not sympathy. The lines blurred more and more every day, and the further your pregnancy progressed, the less capacity you had to be distraught about it all the time. You had bigger things to worry about, obviously. 

Things Leon would rather worry about too, as you were reminded by the heavy thud of that book tumbling from the bed, propelled by the shifting of the covers. 

Leon crawled atop you, knees perched at either side of your hips on the mattress. Slowly, he slipped his fingers beneath the hem of your nightshirt to draw it up and over your shoulders, laying bare to him all but what lay beneath your panties, and without incident, to boot. 

As you'd come to expect by now, he was pressing feather-light kisses all along the rounded surface of your stomach at the first opportunity. Reaching forward to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger, always careful to ensure he had your full attention, Leon whispered, "Do you like the way your belly looks, sweetheart?" 

Not really, was your immediate thought, but right after that, it was, well... I don't know. Do I? 

Your heart clenched in your chest as you stared down at his hands roaming the swollen surface of your baby bump, committing every square inch to textile memory by feeling along the curve of it, by brushing his lips over the feathery stretch marks that had bloomed there in his absence. To say you didn't like it would be a complete and total understatement, but with Leon scrutinizing your every move in an effort to gauge your emotions, you were having a terribly difficult time finding the right words to speak. 

Finally, you admitted, "Depends on the day." 

Which was true. It tasted bitter on your tongue to give him the satisfaction of even insinuating you enjoyed this, but there were times in which you would gaze at your reflection and pretend to be someone else, and in that removed context, you found the woman in the mirror to be quite the cute little pregnant lady-- but Leon didn't need to know all that.

"It'll be okay," He promised, resting his chin atop your bump and breathing in deep, entranced by the heavenly scent of motherhood that clung to you now. "Before long you'll come to love how beautiful you look with daddy's baby in you."

Stroking gently down your sides, unable to ignore just how obvious it'd become that your breasts and the dips of your waist had filled out with the evidence of his claim over you, Leon's cock was starting to tent up in his boxers. He couldn't get enough of you if he tried, even if you didn't want anything to do with yourself. He would take you all, over and over again, let every rejected piece of you flow over him until his cup runneth over. 

Meanwhile, you were wondering to yourself what 'before long' even meant to him. You were already 30 weeks pregnant and barreling toward your due date. It's not like there was long left for you to come to love it-- most of the time you didn't even like it. 

But the sex was so good. That, even you couldn't deny you'd come to love. 

"Daaaaddyyy," You whined, long and drawn out as the throbbing head of him pushed past your sodden hole, tunneling deep into you with a low groan from the throbbing core of his chest. 

He could barely keep his eyes open, right hand gripping the meat of your thigh to pin you open while the left steadied you at the hip, and the sounds you made were nothing short of heaven to him. The wet suction of you pulsing around him, the incoherent whining and weeping that knocked from your plush lips with every inch you took. 

"You're so damn eager to get fucked aren't you? Poor thing," Leon coaxed you cruelly, even as he could hardly get a breath in himself. There were certainly worse things in the world than having a dedicated partner so keen on servicing you; his possessive nature coupled with your hormonal neediness had turned this unwilling partnership into something undeniably effective and powerful. 

As soon as he was sure you were comfortable, his thrusts picked up pace steadily, and as usual, he couldn't help the way his hand crept up from your hip to your rounded tummy. You looked perfect like this, absolutely perfect, down to the molecule. Such a proper little puppy bearer you were, almost to term with your first litter yet already crying out for more, your swollen tits bouncing, your nails biting into his skin and your eyes rolling back in your head, your pretty pussy clenching around his shaft at half the pace of your beating heart. It was an image he wished he could frame, an image of you that only existed in his mind's eye until now.

"Such a pretty, pretty princess," He mused, bringing his hand away from your belly only to swipe his hair back from his sweat-slicked forehead, and then it was promptly returned to its place with a gentle pat to gather your attention there, to just how big you'd gotten. Every rigid inch of him set your insides on fire, feeding a white hot pit in your core that smoldered through your blood and seeped all the way up to your shrinking little brain like rot. Like an infection.

"D-Don't stop," Your words came out in breathy, stunted, braindead mewls, oh, so fucking braindead. Poor puppy, you were so focused on pleading for him not to stop, you didn't even realize you were cumming already, convulsing, sobbing, cunt sucking his cock in so nice and deep that daring to remove it might as well be considered sacrilege.

And it was to him. Oh, God was it sacrilege to deny you the pleasure you so deserved. Everything he did was for you, for the privilege of spreading you out upon your altar and feeling your holy body accept him, beckon him, cleanse him.

"I'm here, darlin'..." He prayed to you, "I'm right here."

"I fucking knew it. I knew you were guilty as sin," Leon scoffed, tossing his cards on the table in exasperation. Bulging arms crossed over his chest, he shook his head and added, "Colonel Mustard, you conniving piece of shit." 

Your lips parted with a nervous laugh, followed by a slow, discreet exhale to steady your heart again, only when he wasn't looking, of course. Hearing him say things like that just set your fucking teeth on edge, but even with the little spike of anxiety he caused, you had to admit to yourself that it was a bit funny. 

Gathering up the cards on the table, you flashed him a playful smile and asked, "Did you wanna play again?" 

You only looked up from shuffling the deck when you realized he was taking longer than expected to respond. Chillingly, that's when you noticed he was just studying you with an expression of neutrality that gave away nothing about what he was thinking. That rarely ever meant anything good for you. 

Naturally, Leon didn't miss the way your pupils narrowed to pinholes in alert beneath his scrutiny. Perhaps in an attempt to disarm you, he cleared his throat and relaxed, reaching forward to help you reset the game board. Instead of answering your question, however, he asked you one instead. 

"Something on your mind?" 

"No," You replied quickly, "Why?" 

His eyes narrowed just a teeny tiny bit, barely even recognizable if you weren't looking right at him, if you didn't know him well enough by now. Or did he narrow his eyes? Were you just imagining things? 

"You seem jumpy." 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Immediately, you began to beat yourself to hell for letting your guard down. As far as you knew, you were doing so well. He hadn't suspected a thing for so long, and of course you had to go ahead and fuck it all up for yourself over a game of Clue. 

Taking a shaky drink of water, you swallowed nervously before responding, "Oh. I'm sorry."

And now his eyes were going a bit narrow. When it came to you, a non-answer like that was a pretty solid indicator that you were hiding something, but Leon was beginning to learn that he couldn't scare you off too early with the interrogating-- he needed to take more of a delicate approach if he wanted to get anywhere with you, especially if he wanted to get anywhere with you willingly. 

With a fond, gentle tone and a relaxed posture that he hoped would encourage you to open up, Leon asked, "Sorry for what, pup?" 

Again, your vocabulary, your tongue, your lungs, and your brain were failing you in succession, taking turns lighting up your poor, exhausted neurons like an overloaded switchboard. He sounded sincere, he looked sincere, but... But it's Leon, you still managed to think to yourself, and your heart squeezed tight with every other syllable. Then, somewhere in there, you thought, But... it's Leon. And now you really didn't know what to do.

He had been so kind to you lately. Even you had to admit to yourself that a lot of your hesitation to trust him in the month since he returned was just the product of your own overthinking. You couldn't come up with a single thing he'd done or said to you since he'd been back that would give you any incentive to lie to him. In fact, all that came to mind only proved the opposite. 

He'd been remarkably consistent with rewarding your newfound honesty, even if it wasn't always exactly the kind of honesty he hoped to hear. The fact that you even made the effort at all was proof enough to Leon that you cared to consider his rules, and the fact that you were honest with him even when you knew you might get in trouble meant you trusted him to help you. 

Admit it or not, like it or not, you cared. You trusted him. Your hesitation to answer-- which, to note, was making him sick with anticipation-- proved your inclination for obedience in its own way. Those were sentiments he had to remind himself of as he continued his effort to navigate a conversation despite you not giving him much to work with yet. You were certainly a tough nut to crack, but he'd never felt so motivated to accept the challenge. 

Taking your dainty little hand in a reassuring squeeze, he cooed, "My sweet baby... It's okay. Daddy won't ever be mad at you for telling the truth, you know that, right?" 

Oh dear God, he's laying it on thick.

Your bottom lip quivered as you tried to swallow back the lump beginning to take root in your throat, only to find you could barely even swallow around it. For four weeks he'd been nothing but sweet to you, clearly putting forth a concerted effort to make up for all the attention you should have been getting while he was gone. For four weeks he'd taken the care to alter his own habits and behavior just to prove that you could trust him to adore and support you through anything, and not just you, but your unborn daughter. 

And yet, for four weeks, you'd been lying to him.

All at once you were hit with a sickening pang of guilt that gripped at the centermost part of your gut and twisted it tight. That kindness you'd been enjoying so much was entirely unearned, and the longer you avoided confessing, the more you were taking advantage of him and his belief in you. 

"D-Daddy, I have to tell you something," You spewed, and it was only once you heard the pathetic wobble of your own voice that you realized you were weeping already. 

Truthfully, Leon was caught off guard. He always prepared for some degree of pushback from you, but this wasn't pushback. You were having a meltdown. Thankfully, he had quite a lot of experience with your meltdowns by now, and he had learned all the best places to start trying to pull you back from them. 

So he quickly entered coddling mode. 

"Okay, okay, shh, you're alright," He soothed, standing from his chair to kneel beside yours. One hand on your knee and the other still squeezing your own, Leon looked you in the eye as he continued, "You're okay, baby, you're not in trouble. Whatever it is, we can handle it. I'm just glad you're being honest with me now, right?" 

In your distress, you didn't really pay attention, but had you been as vigilant as you usually were, you might have noticed how strategically selected his every word was in the interest of encouraging you to spit it out without making you feel pressured. Whatever he was doing was working, because you were soaking it up and nodding along like a bobblehead, even trying to match your shuddering breaths to the pace of his own to calm yourself down, just like he'd taught you. 

Just like a good girl would. And all good behavior was worthy of daddy's praise, yeah? 

"There you go, there's my good girl. You're alright, see? Daddy's right here with you, and I'm not going anywhere. Just take your time."

But you'd already taken a month. You should have told him the second he walked through the door that day and saved you both the grief, but you didn't, and for that, you didn't deserve his kindness, you didn't deserve his good graces, you deserved whatever he would have coming to you. All that progress you'd made in controlling your breathing was shattered in an instant, your chest puffing with every sharp, ragged gasp for air.

You had to tell him. You should have already told him, and that was no one's fault but your own. Every moment that you continued to hesitate only made you a worse liar. You had to tell him and you had to tell him right now. Right now, right now, right now, right-- 

"I--" 

Everything stopped. For one dreadful moment that you had no idea would be your most recent memory of comfort for the next several hours, everything stopped.

And then it all started up again. One second you were about to spill your guts about what you did, finally finding the breath to speak, and the next second that very same breath was punched from your lungs by a staggering pain that spread quickly from the root of you and smashed everything it touched to bits. As soon as you were finished choking on thin air, any and all thought about your impending confession was seared out of your brain-- you could only scream. 

Leon went wide-eyed in an instant, clutching your hand and standing to his feet to quickly assess you. He was choking on air too, for once joining you in a momentary inability to speak, purely out of shock and confusion. Your eyes screwed shut and you were curling into yourself in clear agony-- whatever you were about to tell him didn't matter to him either, now. You weren't faking this. 

Taking your face in both hands, trying to get you to look at him, Leon did his best to conceal just how much he was panicking on the inside. He had to be strong for you, he had to be strong for your daughter. 

"Sweetheart, hey, you need to breathe," He spoke calmly, but quickly, smoothing your hair back so he could get a good look at you. "Can you tell me what's going on? What hurts?" 

"E-Everything," You gasped, and he was trying to come up with a nice way to ask you to be more specific when you continued. "M-My back, my hips, everything..." 

You were only able to get a couple breaths in before it happened again, this time with a mounting feeling of pressure taking over your entire lower half. It felt like you were going to pop from the inside if it continued any longer, like your hips were just going to crack and split apart, and it was only then that you realized what this could mean. Little did you know, Leon was connecting the dots too. 

"Okay, pup, I need you to listen to me--" 

"D-Daddy, this can't... t-this can't be happening, this can't be happening, it's too early!" You wailed, taking two fistfuls of his shirt and yanking with all your strength, like you were clawing at him for a solution, teary, fearful, stinging eyes pleading for your daddy to make it all go away. It ground his heart down into a fine, fine dust.

Especially because you were right to be distraught. It was too early, your due date was still eight weeks away, and he wasn't prepared for this to happen any more than you were. But he couldn't let it show.

"Listen to me," He interjected, his tone firm, but not callous. "I know it hurts, princess, and I know you're scared. I'm scared too, but we're gonna get you taken care of, okay? Right now, I just need you to breathe for me."

You nodded, hanging off of his every word in search of guidance, relief, something to hold onto. Staring into each other's eyes, he lead you through your breathing, thumbs tenderly caressing the tears away from your cheeks as they fell. It was like the room was vibrating with you. The few cycles it took to help you to get a handle on your breathing felt like an eternity, but he wouldn't dare proceed until he was sure you were getting some oxygen to manage the pain.

And, truthfully, he needed to think over exactly what to do. Whether or not you were actually going into labor like you both feared, it was abundantly clear that you needed medical attention-- thanks to his neurotic preparedness, there was already a 'go' bag stocked and ready in the nursery, but that meant he would have to leave you on your own for a minute to go get it. In your condition, he wasn't worried you would try anything if left unattended, he just couldn't stand the thought of you in such agonizing pain without him there to hold your hand. 

Unfortunately, it was necessary. 

"I need to run upstairs and grab your bag really quick, and then we'll get you in the car, okay? Just sit tight for a second, and keep breathing for me." 

He didn't wait for you to answer, because he didn't want to give himself the chance to keep hesitating. As soon as he finished speaking he turned on his heel and rushed off. Enough time had burned away already, time you could have spent in the hospital getting the help you needed. 

While Leon was upstairs, you were writhing in your chair at the table, one hand grasping at the edge of it as the other clutched weakly at your belly. Somehow you were actually managing to maintain the pace he'd set for your breathing, if only because that was the one thing you could stand to focus on while terrified and crying by the unwavering pain. 

It only felt like you blinked twice before he was pounding down the stairs, diaper bag stuffed to capacity with supplies and slung over his shoulder. Scooping you up into his arms, he quickly moved to cross the house and get you to the car, the distance between your seat at the dining table and the front door feeling like lightyears... especially when you wrenched your arms around him tightly, planted your slick forehead against his chest and screamed, a gush of watery, reddish liquid spilling out from between your legs and dribbling down the front of his jeans.

That piece of evidence, neither one of you could deny. Ready or not, at just 32 weeks, you were going into labor.

"Leon!"

Claire was the first to react, approaching with her arms outstretched for a quick embrace. As his arms closed politely around her, happy to be reunited with an old friend, Leon looked over Claire’s shoulder to Chris, who seemed just as happy to see him.

As Claire released her hold from around Leon's shoulders, Leon stepped forward to greet Chris.

“If it isn’t the Redfields,” Leon smiled.

Chris nodded, crossing his arms casually as he looked Leon up and down. "You look good."

It was a simple comment, but it meant a lot, given the state Leon was in when Chris last encountered him in the wild. He was a trainwreck, to put it lightly, and Chris would never know how profound of an impact he had on Leon dragging himself out of that hole he was in.

But more than anything, of course, it had to do with you. He couldn't possibly be drunk all the time and still be able to keep a close eye on his princess, to be there for her and their growing baby. If he was going to police you about taking care of yourself, he felt inclined to lead by example.

The whole time this exchange was happening, Leon had no idea Jill's eyes were burning holes into him. Something in her was set off by him and she intended to find out what it was. In the meantime, she didn't feel comfortable leaving him unwatched.

As such, their reunion was cut short-- Jill was all business, and she wasn't going to be able to get it out of her mind until she got to the bottom of it.

"There's still a lot of ground left to cover. Leon, why don't you come with me and we'll see what we can find?" Jill asked, recapturing Leon's attention. Just as she'd hoped, he didn't seem put off by her suggestion. The last thing she could afford to do right now, if she wanted answers, was make him suspicious.

The quartet talked out their plans before parting ways, certain to dictate this exact cell block as home base. Chris and Claire went one way while Jill and Leon went the other, and once more the two were alone together. While Jill was waiting for the right time to start asking questions, Leon was actually the first to speak.

“How have you been holding up?”

Jill's posture stiffened as they walked, her eyes narrowing ahead as she thought over his words. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but she couldn't help but feel that he'd only asked her about herself to get the attention away from him. 

"You already asked me how I've been," She attempted to dismiss him. "I said I'm fine."

Leon huffed out a breath, shaking his head. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Whatever, I don't want to talk about it," She said quickly. She knew she had to reign this in quickly or she would risk losing the upper hand. "I'm still hung up on you and this ‘little lady’ at home. I feel like there's more to the story that you're not telling me."

Somewhat to Jill's surprise, Leon didn't so much as flinch at her words. He turned to look at her and asked calmly, "Like what?"

Jill knew she had to choose her words carefully. She knew that if she had any shred of hope of getting the truth out of him, she needed him to trust her, to view her as a safe person to confide in. At this point, she wasn't even suspicious that he was up to anything nefarious, she just feared that something might be wrong if he was making such impulsive, impactful decisions, and by extension she feared for you.

Did you know what he did for work? Did you know what he'd been through? Did you know how much danger your own life was in just by being associated with him? Did you know how complicated his circumstances were, that he wouldn't likely be able to be sufficiently present as a partner and father?

Jill's face fell and she avoided eye contact by continuously scanning their dingy surroundings. "Does she know?"

Leon didn't quite know how to respond at first. A few beats of tense hesitation passed before he replied, "She knows... a little bit. Not everything."

"What's ‘a little bit?’" Jill pressed.

"She knows I work against bioterrorism for the government, and she knows a very limited explanation of what happened in Raccoon City. I don't think she needs to know any more than that."

It was bizarre to Jill just how flippant and casual Leon was about this. Brows furrowing, she turned over her shoulder to look at him and said bluntly, "What she does or doesn't need to know isn't your decision to make, Leon. She deserves to know what she's getting herself into, especially with a baby on the way. Don't you think so?"

Leon's jaw tensed and he couldn't even look at her, his own gaze falling to the floor. He may have seemed unbothered for the most part, but he was filtering and manipulating every word out of his mouth so obsessively that he was beginning to run out of reasonable rebuttals. In this situation, he found it easiest to fall back on old reliable.

"I'm just trying to protect her," He said, his tone laced with sincerity, because deep inside himself he truly did believe it. "Surely you can understand that, can't you?"

Now Jill was hesitating.

Leon took advantage of this to keep talking. "I don't plan on keeping her in the dark forever, I'm just feeding it to her in... small bites, so to speak. I need to be sure she can handle it. What we've been through isn't something you can just dump on someone in one sitting. It's going to shatter her entire world view, it's going to make her question everything she's ever known, every system she's ever believed in, just like it did for us."

When he first began his little rant, his intention was just to say whatever he felt Jill needed to hear in order to get her off his back. But, as he listened to himself speak, he realized something.

Knowing the truth would shatter your entire world view. It would make you question everything you've ever known, every system you've ever believed in.

Chin tilted to the ground, hiding his face from Jill, he grinned to himself, tucking that idea in his back pocket for later. It never hurt to have a failsafe.

Now it was 5 a.m. You still hadn't slept.

You were pacing the kitchen, heart pounding in your chest as you ruminated over the same line of thinking you'd had all night. Every passing moment pushed you closer and closer to doing what you knew deep down was necessary.

Sure, as soon as he would be made aware of your escape Leon would undoubtedly spring into action in one way or another, but the only reason he was able to catch you so easily last time is because he was close enough to get home and stop you before you could make it very far. You didn't know where exactly he was away for work, but you at least knew he wasn't in town. That already put you in a better position than you were in last time.

If you could just make it somewhere safe first, maybe you could get some people on your side before Leon's weirdo government goons would have a chance to lie for him. It was a long shot, but it was all you had and it was a shot you finally decided you were willing to take, if not for yourself then for the innocent baby growing inside you.

Your ears began to ring and your limbs fell numb. You had made up your mind. You were going to get yourself and your unborn daughter out of this house, no matter the risks, no matter the cost. If you didn't take this opportunity, you knew it would haunt you for the rest of your days. You needed to leave and you needed to leave now, while it was still dark outside, while much of the city still slept. The fewer the witnesses, the better.

It was almost as if you were outside of your body, watching yourself make the movements. First you climbed the stairs, then you entered the bedroom and grabbed a jacket. You quietly and almost calmly slipped on your shoes, eyes scanning the room as you briefly thought of what you might need to bring with you, but suddenly it dawned on you that you didn’t really need to bring anything at all. None of your old clothes fit anymore, your phone and wallet were long gone by now and everything else wasn't really yours, it was Leon's.

Being that you were nearly six months pregnant with his baby, you weren't really in need of any additional reminders of his hold over you.

You slowly rose from the bed and wandered back down the hallway, down the stairs and to the front door. Much like your attempt at entering Leon's study the other day, your trembling hand seemed to just hover in front of the lock for a moment. Even through the thick of adrenaline in your skull, you could hear Leon's influence in the back of your mind; ‘Don't try it. He'll lose it. He'll track you down faster than you can blink and he'll punish you.’

Tears flooded your eyes and your bottom lip quivered. With a shaky breath, you unlocked the door and closed your eyes, turning the knob.

The late summer air shocked your senses. It was a cool, crisp early morning, the sun just beginning to rise as those in the city unlucky enough to work this early began to rise too. For a moment you just stood there, staring out at the street with no idea what to do, like you had to force yourself to remember how to walk outside of the threshold of his property. You didn't even realize you had one hand rested protectively on your bump as you took one shaky, unsure step out of the doorway, and then another.

You closed the door behind you and began learning to walk on your own again. One foot in front of the other, left, right, left, right, knees wobbling uncertainly with every step. The pavement almost felt foreign beneath your shoes, your shaking hands cold and strangely empty, the space beside you void. No arm bumping against your own, or tightening around your waist, or dragging you along. You almost didn't know what to do with yourself.

Actually, not almost-- you had no idea what to do with yourself. You didn't even know where in the city you were. You remembered a few things from your few outings with Leon, to and from the doctor and that one trip to the botanical garden, but Washington D.C. was not a small place and nothing you'd seen in his company did much in the way of narrowing it down for you.

So you just walked. And walked. And walked.

Surely it wouldn't be suspicious for a pregnant woman to be out on a morning walk by herself, right? It wouldn't draw any eyes, would it?

Would it?

With every step you took away from the house, your throat closed a little tighter, your heartbeat raced a little faster. You tried to just keep your head down and follow the sidewalk, but you couldn't help the nagging need to glance over your shoulder and scrutinize every shadow.

Are there cameras? Does he have people watching the neighborhood? Would anyone recognize you? If they did, would they call the cops? Would the cops notify Leon?

You shook your head in an attempt to physically clear your mind, but nothing was working. By the time you reached the end of the neighborhood, you very seriously considered just turning back now. If Leon ever found out you left the house, you could just say you wanted to go for a walk. You could use it as an opportunity to boost his trust in you-- 'See? I went out for a walk, circled the neighborhood and came right back, and nothing happened to me. I could have very easily run away, but I didn't,'-- but even as paranoid as you were, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

At one end of the street was the home you'd spent months on end being held captive in, and at the other end was freedom... or at least some potential for it.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and continued to walk. One foot in front of the other, left, right, left, right. You hardly even realized you were muttering it out loud to yourself.

Every car that passed by you on the road made you flinch, every distant horn. Every siren made you feel sick to your stomach, but still, you kept going. Where to, you couldn't say. All you knew was that the police weren't going to be of any help, so that would be a dead end, but even knowing that felt better than knowing nothing.

Until it didn't, until you eventually realized that maybe you did know nothing after all.

"Bio-drones?" Jill asked, eyeing the buttons, controls and screens in front of them with curiosity and maybe a little disgust. 

Leon nodded slowly, looking over the images himself. While the threat of bio-drones was definitely uncomfortable and not good news, he couldn't help but feel an odd sense of relief that he was finally getting somewhere. 

"That room we passed through before is the incubation tank," He explained over his shoulder, "The guy I'm here for, Antonio Taylor? This is his area of expertise, and these drones look ready to go, so he's gotta be around here somewhere."

Jill's eyes lit up with an idea, "He can wait. Let's burn it all."

And of course, Leon couldn't disagree. He wanted this all over and done with quite possibly more than anyone, so if there existed an opportunity to just torch it all and run, he would be taking it. With a nod of agreement, Leon was just about to suggest starting with the incubation tank when a voice called out over a speaker system around them, "Well, if it isn't Jill Valentine and Leon S. Kennedy."

The two agents froze, and almost by instinct moved to stand back to back, weapons raised. Leon couldn't help but become frustrated by the intrusion, annoyed that just like always, a simple solution was thwarted at the last second. If his past experiences were any indication, he knew things were about to get much weirder and much, much more complicated, and quite frankly it made him want to punch a hole in a wall.

"Why don't you come out and talk?" Jill called out as they scanned the room, shuffling carefully around each other with their attention on high.

"How about you come to me?" The voice responded, "I'm in the main prison block, ground floor... Chris and Claire are waiting for you."

Their eyes widened and they turned to face each other, a single beat of shocked silence passing before they kicked into gear and began sprinting back toward the main prison block. Footsteps pounding along the concrete floors and echoing through the empty halls, Jill and Leon were thinking of little else than ensuring the safety of their friends.

Well, Jill thought of little else. As per usual, Leon's main priority lay elsewhere.

By the time Jill and Leon made it back to the main cell block, they were gasping for breath and terrified that they might be too late-- their eyes locked on to the sight of their friends caged in two rusty old cells, looking very much worse for wear. They looked sweaty and sunken in.

"Oh my god, you're so pale," Jill gasped, slowly approaching the Redfield's holding cells and already trying to strategize how to free them.

Leon approached Claire's cell, right about to ask her what happened and if they were okay when he quickly realized she wasn't alone in there. She was joined by a man hunched over in the back corner of the cell, bleeding profusely and looking especially pathetic. It didn't take long for Leon's eyes to narrow with recognition.

"Son of a bitch," He grumbled, charging up to the thick steel bars to get a better look at the man. "Antonio Taylor."

Claire's brows furrowed in confusion and she turned to look up at Leon, choking back grunts of discomfort as she asked, "What? His name's Davis--"

"No, that's a fake name. He's Taylor, alright," Leon cut her off. "This scumbag's wanted for leaking national secrets to enemies of the United States."

Leon was fuming as he stared down Antonio Taylor with a venomous look on his face, a certain kind of triumph lingering alongside it, knowing that the only thing that stood between him and you now was the key to this goddamn prison cell. 

But there was little time to decide how to proceed as the lights flickered on around them, startling Jill and Leon into raising their guns. Metal clinked beneath boots and the rubber stopper of a heavy cane, measured steps on uneven gait approaching from the walkway above as a man and a woman came into view, the very same woman that'd totaled Leon's motorcycle. That wasn't a face he would ever forget-- Maria Gomez.

"Welcome to Alcatraz," The man said, causing Jill and Leon to glance at each other in recognition for a split second-- it was the voice from the intercom. The man continued, "I'm Dylan Blake. It's an honor to have you all here together."

Ominous, Leon thought, and not at all entertaining. He'd long since grown sick of cut-and-dry missions becoming overcomplicated in the worst ways, especially now that it meant stopping him from returning to you. His aim was true and his form was still but his heart was pounding away at his chest like never before.

Blake grinned, "I bet you're wondering how people are being infected without being bitten..."

And suddenly after, Leon's focus was nearly broken by a sharp, acute pain at the base of his neck-- try as he might not to react, he couldn't help but wince, one hand still holding the gun steady while the other reached up to soothe the unexpected feeling. 

"That was one of my prototype bio-drones... I tell it who to infect, and it always finds its target."

Despite his best efforts, Leon quickly began to feel its effects, dropping weakly to his knees on the concrete. It was as though he could feel his immune system trying to fight it in real time, and losing miserably. The quickness with which he fell clammy and ill was staggering, and before he even really had time to process what had just happened to him, his grip on his gun weakened.

Jill's focus faltered too as she watched Leon hit the ground, her throat tightening in fear as she grabbed at his shoulder to steady him.

"The mass production versions are what you saw in the other chamber, and they're ready to go. By tomorrow morning, my virus will be all over the world."

"Well, it's over now," Jill interjected, her voice-- and her grip on her pistol-- shaky, but sure, trained right between Blake's eyes. "Put your hands up."

But Blake only chuckled. "B.S.A.A., D.S.O., TerraSave. You still think you're fighting evil syndicates like Umbrella, saving the world, et cetera, et cetera. The huge corporations and the corrupt execs that run them, the ones getting big, fat bonuses for maintaining the status quo, that's who you work for. That's who you really protect, and the innocent will continue to suffer as long as you do. You're nothing more than pawns, suckers."

The rest of it faded into the far back of Leon's subconscious, every last word dissolving into white noise. His head was crushing with a migraine and he was already breaking out into a cold sweat, his vision threatening to double. He couldn't give less of a fuck about Dylan Blake's evil monologue, not when he had the implications of his condition to reckon with.

He was infected, deteriorating by the minute and it was only going to keep getting worse, and worse, and worse, until there was little left but a husk of himself that wanted for nothing more than brains. And where would that leave you? All by yourself at home, waiting on his return, his baby growing strong in your belly as the groceries dwindled and the electricity got cut off. He couldn't stomach it. The thought alone made him want to scream.

Ears ringing, Leon collapsed back against the cell that held Claire and Taylor, his head thudding against the rusty metal bars as he fought to maintain consciousness. He couldn't even hear himself over the static as he mumbled out weakly, "My baby... P-Please, my wife..."

Tunnel vision closed in, and he found himself stuck somewhere between awake and gone.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but I'm going to need your name if--"

"You don't understand," You cut off the nice lady at the front desk of the women's shelter, legs shaking and hands fidgeting as you tried to reason with someone, anyone for your safety. "I cannot give you my name. I need there to be absolutely no record of me ever being here."

The woman took in a deep breath, clearly becoming frustrated right along with you. "Ma'am," She said again, slowly this time as if she were speaking with a toddler, "Again, I promise you that all of this information is confidential. We can't just give it out to anyone who asks. I only need your identification for our own insurance purposes."

Propping your elbows up on the desk, you buried your face in your hands and huffed out a deep breath, trying to remain composed and be nice to this kind lady who was only doing her job, but it was incredibly obvious that she didn't understand the severity of your situation and probably thought you were just being paranoid.

If only she knew.

"So there's nothing you can do for me if I don't give you my name?" You asked, finally peeking back up at the woman above the tips of your cold fingers. 

She hesitated for a moment before giving you a pitiful smile. "I'm sorry. I do have some resource packets and I can point you toward some other shelters in the area if you would prefer to try somewhere else, but they'll most likely require a name as well, just so you're aware."

"Fuck," You grumbled under your breath, tears pricking at your eyes. You stood up to your full height again and checked nervously over your shoulder, which was beginning to feel like an unconscious habit already. "I-I'm sorry, can you just... can I just take a few minutes to go over my options?"

Noticing the very clear fright and distress that radiated from your very being, the woman's expression softened a little bit and she nodded, gesturing for you to take a seat anywhere. You gave her a grateful nod before retreating to the very back corner of the lobby so you could lick your wounds out of the cold.

It made sense. You knew it made sense. Of course under normal circumstances, the records here were probably kept in the strictest confidence, and you wanted to trust it, but you knew better than that. Leon had already managed to dig up information on you that would typically be confidential, and you knew there would be nothing stopping him from gaining access to these records. For all you knew, you could've already had your cover blown by now and you just had no way of finding out until it would be far too late. It made you squirm to think about, but you quickly realized it was already too late.

You didn't know what to do. You briefly pondered the idea of just giving the woman a fake name and being done with it, but you had no way of knowing what would happen if you were to be caught lying. Most likely you'd just be thrown right back out on the street, so it didn't really seem worth it to try, but you couldn't just take up a seat in this lobby forever, either. A choice had to be made.

And maybe now was as good of a time as ever to test your luck. The worst possible thing that could happen to you at this point would be a return to Leon, and you were already risking that enough as it was. What did you have left to lose?

So, you took a deep breath, straightened your posture and approached the front desk once more, and you gave that sweet, well-meaning woman a completely fake name. Just like that, you secured yourself at least 24 hours of free meals and a place to sleep, and better yet, absolutely no reminders of Leon...

...Except the one, of course, but there wasn't much you could do about that.

Fluttering. Constant swishing and fluttering around, since the moment you set foot out of the house. Part of you wondered if your unborn daughter knew just how big of a risk you were taking by leaving that house. Maybe she sensed the change in environment, the beating of your heart, the tension in your muscles. Maybe she sensed your distance from Leon.

Regardless, the reasoning didn't make it any less annoying. Sure, you had some level of love for the little thing in your belly, some level of empathy toward her innocence in all this, but that didn't make it much easier not to associate every distinct feeling of her with him. Even thousands of miles away, a part of Leon was still kicking away at your ribcage. Frustrating as it was, you couldn't say you were surprised.

The room you were shuffled into and told to make yourself at home in was somehow less inviting than Leon's master bedroom. There were three other women staying there, one who had sacrificed her spot on the bottom bunk to accommodate your pregnancy, and the air was stiff, still, sterile, like a doctor's office, or maybe a prison. At least here you could leave of your own volition.

What you didn't expect to miss, however, was your privacy. Maybe if your circumstances were different, it wouldn't have bothered you so much, but what were you supposed to do? The distinct feeling of eyes on you made you squirm, your throat tightening up along with your chest. It's not like you could even talk to them-- there was no way of knowing who might run their mouth, or report you, or even just write you off as fucking crazy. The last thing you needed right now was your sanity questioned. 

So you just laid there, and let your mind wander... against your better judgment. You stared at the wooden slats of the bunk above yours, room filled with the distant hum of ventilation, the shuffling of your roomies and the muted noises of movement elsewhere in the facility. It was sort of overwhelming to be surrounded by so much noise now, after months on end of nothing but Leon's voice occasionally broken up by cooking shows or nature documentaries. To anyone else the background noise might be perceived as pleasant, but to you it felt deafening.

You picked at your nails and tried to drown it out, tried as you might to think of literally anything else, but you were quickly realizing that you hadn't really thought of anything that didn't have to do with Leon since... well, since he brought you home. Every bump from across the facility made you jolt like the sound of the front door opening. Every hushed voice from the other room made you wonder who it was, and who they were talking to.

Maybe you were paranoid.

After a while you realized you weren't going to get any rest just sitting here ruminating. You pushed yourself up and stood from the bed, head down as you slipped out of the room without a word, making your way toward the bathroom.

By some sort of miracle, it would seem you were the only person in there as you entered, the fan whirring quietly, your footsteps echoing on the tiled floor. To your right was a long row of unoccupied stalls, and to your left was a long row of sinks beneath a wall-to-wall mirror.

Typically you would do what you could to avoid having to look at your reflection, but right now you felt more strongly than ever that you needed to just confront it. The reality of your situation wasn't going anywhere, and it clearly wasn't doing you any good to bury your head in the sand. You approached one of the sinks nearer to the end of the room, turning on the cold water and letting it flow over the palms of your hands before bringing them up to your cheeks, using what droplets remained of the cool water to sap away some of the heat that radiated from your skin.

Then you looked at yourself. It didn’t surprise you that you looked tired around the eyes, hair messied by your walk through the early morning wind, and you were in dire need of some lip balm, to boot. But through it all, despite everything, there you were. For the first time in a long time, you sort of… recognized yourself again.

It was almost surreal, like running into an old friend. You tilted your chin to the left, and then to the right, nudged your hair away from your face and then resituated it the way you always used to, taking in every angle, every detail. You smiled. You furrowed your brows. You bared your teeth. You laughed.

And sure enough, it was still you.

In one last move to fully reacquaint yourself, you leaned in close, gazing at the color of your own eyes, the dips and valleys of your irises casting light and shadow, the size of your inky pupils– the fluorescent lighting was bright but your pupils were blown wide, seemingly with pure wonder and focus. That’s when you noticed a single eyelash resting on your cheek.

Your first thought, of course, was to make a wish. You brought your pointer finger up carefully to lift the lash from your cheek, leaning back a little to look at it as it rested there on your fingertip. You already had a wish in mind– for this all to be over– but as you were preparing yourself to blow the lash away, your knuckle bumped against the mirror, and you froze.

Was that a gap you spotted between your knuckle and its own reflection?

Was this a two-way mirror?

All serenity and any last trace of rational thought you had left in you shattered in an instant, your eyelash wish long abandoned in the back of your mind as you sucked in a breath and stumbled away from the mirror as though it had burned you. There was only one thing on your mind right now, the same sentence repeating itself over and over with urgency, overlapping and echoing and skipping at a deafening volume, you need to run, and you need to run now.

There was no space left in your mind to calm yourself down, or talk yourself out of it. You moved entirely on autopilot as you rushed out of the bathroom, back to your shared room to gather your coat in a hurry, ears ringing as you tugged it on and charged out with your head down. That kind woman at the front desk from earlier said something after you, presumably asking what was wrong or if you were okay, but whatever it was, it fell on deaf ears. 

A bell rang above your head as you threw the door open and rushed right back outside, retracing your steps back the way you came, the distinct feeling of imminent vomit sitting tight at the back of your throat.

You should have known. You should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. You should have known he’d have eyes everywhere, that any unassuming building you might have wandered into throughout the entire city ran the risk of being a front, a ploy, a trap laid perfectly just to trick you.

Maybe Leon wasn’t on a work trip at all. Maybe it was all a setup to see what you would do, an excuse to monitor the choices you’d make in his absence. He was probably holed up somewhere in that big government building, surrounded by screens, having every detail of your little outing relayed back to him by men on the ground, already plotting how he planned to handle you upon his return.

You choked out a fearful sob, picking up your pace. If you could just get home before him, maybe you could plead your case for mercy.

No more than 30 minutes passed before Leon regained some semblance of lucidity, though it felt like hours. When his eyes cracked open again, they felt heavy, and the low light in the cell block felt blinding. His chest tightened up with a bout of low, deep coughs, after which he struggled to suck in a breath.

“Leon?” Claire worried over him, on her knees just on the other side of the bars, her own voice weak and shaky. “Leon, are you okay?”

“M’fine,” He grumbled almost by instinct, a knee jerk answer to a frequently asked question, before letting his head lull back a little bit to look at her. All things considered, it was at least nice to see a familiar face. “You look terrible.”

She laughed, tears pricking at her eyes, but a smile tugging at her bitten lips all the same. If she was going to die today, Claire thought, at least it would be with her big brother and Leon at her side. “So do you.”

“Glad to have you back in the land of the living, brother,” Chris noted from the cell next door. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Leon scoffed. “Like I could use a drink.”

A year ago, both Chris and Claire would have had a good lecture waiting for him at that comment, but not now, not when they were so helplessly staring death directly in the face unlike ever before. In fact, a drink sounded lovely. Chris found himself longing for a tall, frosty beer on the coast of Mexico, and Claire imagined having something fruity and sweet with a little umbrella in it, resting upon a salted rim.

But something else Leon said earlier had stuck in the siblings’ minds, and it was tough to scrub out— right before he’d lost consciousness earlier, Leon mentioned a wife?

Chris was the one to break the silence, “Can I ask you something, Leon?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you seeing someone?”

This gave Leon pause— how many fucking times would he have to answer this question? But he supposed the Redfield’s curiosity was warranted, given all they’d missed over the past year. Still, that didn’t make it any less irritating. In his mind, the less information he had to divulge about you, the better, but… God, did he love a good excuse to brag about you, especially when it was more pleasant to think about than the conflict at hand.

After a moment of hesitation, he finally opened up, “I-I am, yeah. I’m married now, baby on the way, white picket fence and all that.”

“What?” Claire practically recoiled in shock at that comment, reaching up to rub her eyes just to make sure she wasn’t having auditory or visual hallucinations.

Chris, on the other hand, was at a complete loss for words. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t long ago that he was dragging Leon’s drunk, miserable ass out of bed every day, making sure he drank water, getting him to the gym, encouraging him to look into antidepressants and therapy, and now he was married with a baby on the way? He couldn’t decide if he should be proud of and excited for him, or deeply fucking concerned.

At least it explained why Jill seemed so apprehensive— she must have sniffed it out first.

“Just hear me out for a second, will you?” Leon said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, knowing they weren’t trying to be malicious— not to mention, it wasn’t worth spending his limited energy. He was just sick of explaining himself already. “I know it seems like a lot and I know it seems fast, but I swear to you, I’m doing well, and I’m happy. I’ve never met anyone like her in my life. I’ve never been so sure of someone, and I wouldn’t have married her if that wasn’t the case. I’m not the man I was a year ago.”

“Apparently,” Claire said under her breath, though it didn’t go unnoticed by Leon.

He huffed out a breath, glancing at her over his shoulder, “I’m serious, Claire. I’m better now. Haven’t even had a drop of alcohol since I met her.”

…Which wasn’t entirely true, but at least he wasn’t drinking like he once did. The last drink he had, he remembered well— it was nearing six months ago, the night you mistook what must have been implantation bleeding for your period, the night he thought he’d have to wait at least another month to get you good and knocked up. Still riding the high of confirming your pregnancy early the next morning, sobriety never felt better. He poured that bottle down the sink while you cried in the bathroom.

“Not a drop?” Chris asked, skeptical, but wanting desperately to believe him.

“Not one.”

A beat of silence passed, filled only by the sounds of their labored breaths and the distinct buzzing of the few working fluorescent lights high above. But Leon’s mind was filled with warm, fluffy thoughts of you now, your beautiful smile, your soft hair, your glittery eyes and pretty lashes.

The warmth of your skin, the sweet lilt of your voice. The way you’d mumble and drool in your sleep without even realizing it. It was nice to allow the floodgates to open up and fill his thoughts with those of you, for a moment, until the crisis at hand hit him like a train again and now he worried that those hushed goodbyes you shared in the middle of the night all those weeks ago would be the last time he’d ever hear your voice.

“C-Chris, Claire…” He began before he could stop himself, his voice breaking weakly. “We can’t die here. I can’t die here. My wife is pregnant, I can’t leave her alone.”

The siblings softened at this, a pang of hurt shooting right through their chests at their good friend’s plea, a show of vulnerability that wasn’t at all common for him.

Claire reached through the bars to rest a trembling, clammy hand on his shoulder. “We’re not gonna die here, Leon. Jill won’t let that happen.”

“Exactly,” Chris agreed, “We’re still alive, aren’t we? It’s not over yet.”

Maybe it wasn’t, but it certainly felt over. Incapacitated with deteriorating health, Leon had no control over his circumstances right now, and he wasn’t exactly used to people stepping up for him and living to tell the tale. He knew Jill was skilled and capable, sure, but she was tackling a job for four all by herself. The odds weren’t looking great and he knew it.

Even though he hadn’t said anything, Claire could tell Leon was losing it. His shallow breaths were picking up speed and the heat radiating from his sick body was enough for her to feel through the shoulder of his flak jacket. He was burning up and choking back grunts of pain despite himself.

Maybe a little distraction might help him relax.

“Boy or girl?” Claire asked. “Your baby?”

Leon scrunched up his nose. “W-We don’t even know yet.”

Chris picked up quickly on what Claire was trying to do, and he silently thanked the universe for his baby sister’s genius. He jumped in, “Well, what are you hoping for?”

“I’m not hoping either way, honestly, I just want a healthy baby… a boy would be fun, but I’d love to have a girl, too… I’d dress her up like a perfect little princess, and treat her like one.”

Claire couldn’t help the slight, affectionate smile that formed on her face. This was going better than anticipated. “Any names in mind? J-Just saying, if your baby does end up being a girl, ‘Claire’ is a great choice.”

Leon let out a puff of breath, this time an earnest laugh instead of a cynical one. “I’ll be sure to run it by the wife.”

Their tender moment was brought to an abrupt end by the distinct sound of nearing footsteps echoing from somewhere in the building. Sure, it might just be Jill, but it could be anyone else, too, and none of them were exactly in any sort of shape to defend themselves right now. Silence fell over the group as they remained sitting ducks, just waiting to see who might be rounding the corner. 

The anticipation and tension were thick in the air for those few long seconds, until no other than Rebecca Chambers came into view, armored briefcase full of vaccines in tow, the little angel that she was.

“R-Rebecca!” Wheezed Claire, her own excitement getting ahead of her sick body. “Just in time…”

“Seems so,” The scientist agreed, approaching the cells and dropping to her knees to pop open her briefcase. “Are you guys okay?”

Leon puffed out a breath, suddenly feeling a bit pathetic for his meltdown just moments before, though there was little else he could do about it now but push past it. “Feeling a little under the weather, I’ll admit.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Chris let out a strained grunt as he readjusted himself where he sat up against the wall of his solitary cell, watching Rebecca’s every move as she withdrew a needle from the briefcase and prepared the first dose of vaccine. “Did you happen to run into Jill? She doing alright?”

Rebecca shuffled close to Leon, tilting his chin to bare his neck for the injection, not before gently warning him that it might sting a little bit. She answered Chris as she administered Leon’s dose with a steady hand, “Yeah, she’s safe. She told me to let you guys know she was headed for the armory.”

The bite of the needle was negligible in comparison to the discomfort of infection. Every beat of Leon’s heart distributed the vaccine deeper throughout his body and the relief was damn near immediate. The weakness in his muscles began to subside, the tightness of his chest and throat gave way, his migraine receded to a fraction of what it once was— by the time Rebecca was finished administering vaccines to the Redfields, Leon practically felt like a new man.

Bracing himself on the bars to rise to his feet, Leon was fully prepared to apprehend Taylor and be on his way, that is until he saw the wanted man’s bloodied corpse laid flat on the bed in the back of the cell.

“For fuck’s sake, what happened?” He groaned, slamming his fist into the bars. Rebecca unlocked Chris’ cell to Leon’s left before bounding over to open the other, which Claire wasted no time rushing out of. 

“Blake happened,” Chris answered Leon simply, stretching out his shoulders before readying his gun once more, his expression going firm with determination. “So let’s head to the armory and help Jill shut him up for good.”

After the absolute pain in the ass Dylan Blake had proven to be, Leon couldn’t argue with that. He reached for his own pistol and gave Chris a wordless nod, and the group descended back into the prison to finally put an end to things.

It was no simple task, and he didn’t really expect it to be, but somehow it still passed him by in a blur. After the first few times, it stopped feeling very noteworthy to watch one of his adversaries explode into a new nightmarish horror of flesh and eyeballs. These days it just felt like another day at the office, and as such, he found himself operating on autopilot through the vast majority of the fight.

One moment he was being confronted by Maria, and the next moment her corpse was thudding wetly to the floor in front of him. One moment he was firing a rocket launcher, and the next moment he was watching the putrid, liquefied remains of Dylan Blake dye the entire incubation tank crimson. One moment he was helping Jill crawl up out of the gory water, and the next he was following his friends and colleagues up to the helicopter pad. Like clockwork.

Leon gazed upon the fiery orange sun, his only comfort being the knowledge that your own precious eyes could be admiring the very same one at any moment, perhaps even in sync with himself. His friends were chatting and decompressing together, but Leon wasn’t even listening. He couldn’t focus on a single one of their words if he tried, because there was still no telling of your condition yet, and he wouldn’t be able to sit still until he could know you were alright.

Jill noticed the distant look in his eyes, and she felt conflicted. It certainly made sense to feel distant in the wake of something like this, but she had the feeling it wasn’t the contents of the mission itself that left him forlorn.

Excusing herself from the conversation, Jill approached Leon gently from behind. “You’re thinking of her, aren’t you?”

“Only every second of every day.”

Even Jill had to admit that response was sort of heartwarming. She found herself wondering if maybe she’d been too hard on him, too cynical. Leon seemed well, and he seemed happy. What kind of a friend would it make her to deny him that? To poke and prod and pester him over falling in love, a luxury their circumstances weren’t likely to afford twice?

Chris and Claire’s conversation came to a natural pause, during which time the siblings noticed the interaction between Leon and Jill. Having already been sold on the idea— for the most part, anyway— the siblings observed the deep sense of longing that radiated from his very being, and it resonated. They glanced at each other in silent communication before approaching.

“I told you it wasn’t over yet,” Chris teased with a firm pat to Leon’s shoulder, the distant beating of helicopter blades fading into earshot now. “What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you get home?”

For what felt like the first time since this entire shitshow of a mission began, Leon smiled fondly. “I’m gonna kiss my beautiful wife, Redfield.”

You were a sorry fucking sight for the ages by the time you made it back to the house, drenched with sweat and gasping for oxygen, every inch of you trembling with panic. The house was empty and exactly as you’d left it, though you still couldn’t help but feel it was all an illusion. Stripping your clothes off as you climbed the stairs, you barreled into the bathroom for a nearly scalding shower, feeling the desperate need to wash every last atom of the outside world away from your very being. You weren’t incredibly in tune with the passage of time, due to your current state, but it was safe to assume you were in there for almost an hour, just sobbing and scrubbing your skin raw.

By the time you turned off the water and stumbled out of the tub, it would seem you had cried yourself numb. There was still the noticeable weight of anticipation in the pit of you, but along with it was a certain understanding that there was nothing you could do to avoid the consequences of your actions.

There was nothing you could do to avoid Leon. There was nothing you could do but wait.

You went through the motions of drying off, brushing your teeth and changing into pajamas, your ears ringing all the while, like you were watching yourself from above. Descending the stairs on wobbly legs, you were headed toward the kitchen for a desperately needed glass of water when the subtle whine of brakes outside made you freeze.

A car door opened and shut, a set of keys jingled, the lock clicked, and you couldn’t move, just staring wide-eyed at the door from the base of the stairs as it swung open to reveal your captor, who froze at the sight of you, too.

His duffel bag dropped to the floor beside him, long forgotten in Leon’s mind as he feasted his eyes upon the image of you for the first time in over a month— or at least for the first time since his phone broke. He nearly fell to his knees with relief.

“Oh, puppy,” He sighed out, tears pricking at his tired eyes, overwhelmed with the insatiable need to feel you in his arms again. In just a few short strides he crossed the distance between you and embraced you so tightly, it was almost crushing.

Euphoria, pure and uncut, a high unachievable in this universe by any other means. That was the only way Leon could think of to describe what he felt in that moment.

Pulling back to look at you, he cupped your jaw with one hand while the other pushed its way up beneath your shirt, finally feeling the soft, round warmth of your bump under his hand again, and he almost could have sworn he felt a little kick. He was beaming now, vibrating with excitement, almost at a loss for words entirely.

Almost.

When you awoke again, you certainly felt much better. Refreshed, almost, if it weren't for the way the lights stung your eyes. The agonizing pain between your legs that was the last thing you remembered before you lost consciousness had subsided into a dull ache.

You reached up to rub the sleep from your eyes and properly observe your surroundings, quick to take notice of the IV line embedded in the back of your right hand. You blinked, looking around the room-- it was white and sterile, it certainly looked like a hospital but remembering the phone call Leon had in the car, you knew it wasn't exactly that. Even so, you were in a papery gown, laid on papery sheets, and an analog clock menacingly ticked away high up on the wall.

You were quick to sit up at the sound of distant footsteps growing nearer to the door-- the time you'd spent in Leon's "care" had kept you especially aware of the sound-- and as your dreary, horrified eyes locked on to the door you heard the beeps of your heartbeat monitor gain speed.

The heavy door swung open to reveal a doctor you weren't familiar with, and Leon was closely behind him. The doctor took in the sight of you awake with a content smile and piped up, "Ahh, there you are! Feeling better?"

Your mouth was dry. You nodded stiffly, shrinking toward the wall as if you could get any further away from them.

Leon shook his head and chided, "Words, princess. Be polite."

You swallowed nothing. "Y-Yes, doctor, I'm feeling better. Thank you."

"I'm glad to hear it," The doctor replied, checking over your vitals on the monitor to the left of your bed, absently marking down his findings on paper. "How about mentally?"

You blinked. "W-What?"

"Mentally," He repeated. "Leon told me what brought you here. Do you still feel you might be a danger to yourself?"

Mouth agape, eyes wide, you glanced over at Leon who gave you a cold look, no doubt in an attempt to remind you what you'd agreed upon before he brought you here.

You looked back to the doctor. "I'm sorry, what exactly did Leon tell you?"

"Do you not remember?" The doctor asked. "You lost quite a lot of blood, so memory loss is not uncommon in these scenarios. Why don't I step out for a few and let you chat while I check over your charts?"

Your eyes widened even further in a look that begged him not to leave you alone with Leon, but it didn't matter. Almost immediately, Leon told the doctor that sounded like a good idea and walked him to the door.

As soon as it swung shut, you piped up, "Leon, what did you say?"

He shrugged dismissively. "I said you had a breakdown while I was at work and I came home to you covered in blood."

It sounded... absurd. Even more absurd upon realizing that a real life medical doctor accepted that excuse. You scoffed. "Are you serious? You told the doctor I threw a fit for no reason and ripped my IUD out and he believed you?"

"I don't see why he wouldn't," He said smugly as he sat at the edge of the bed, taking hold of your hand. "There's a lot you don't know about me, doll. What I say definitely goes around here."

"Oh," You replied in a near whisper, swallowing dryly. "That's... nice."

The room went quiet and suddenly the air felt heavy. If you didn't feel fucked before you definitely felt fucked now. You reached weakly for the water bottle on the table beside you, but as soon as he noticed what you were reaching for he was quick to spring up from where he sat to grab it for you.

"I've got it, baby," He hummed, smoothing your hair out of your face as he perched the straw up to your mouth. "Don't overexert yourself, now."

As if I even could fucking overexert myself with the monumental task of grabbing a water bottle, you thought, casting your gaze to the floor as you sipped idly through the straw. Even facing away from him you could feel his cobalt eyes boring into you, burning holes in your skin. You nearly shivered, but suppressed it.

Soon after, the door opened and the doctor returned. "All caught up, you two?" He asked jovially.

"Uh, y-yes, thank you," You forced a smile.

"Good," He hummed. "You should be alright to head home now. I've prescribed some antibiotics for you to take as a precaution. We don't want you getting infected-- it could lead to infertility."

Is that so? You thought, clenching your jaw. "Infertility?" You asked.

"Yes, unfortunately. Leon told me you two are trying, so I figured we should play things on the safe side," He said.

You felt Leon's grip on your hand tighten. The word alone clearly stressed him out. 

"That being said," The doctor continued, "I would advise you to avoid sex for at least six weeks. There was some trauma to the cervix that's going to need time to heal, and again, we don't want to risk infection."

Leon's grip was nearly crushing the bones in your hand and even so, you couldn't help but crack a little smile. "You're absolutely right. We wouldn't want to risk anything, right, Leon?"

"Right," He agreed stiffly.

Those six weeks couldn't have possibly passed slower for Leon. He couldn't stop hating himself for what he'd done to you, putting you in so much pain, putting you at such high risk. He couldn't help but beat himself up over it.

He chose to bide his time by doting on his darling relentlessly, even more than usual. He took that entire first week off of work just so he could keep an eye on you at all hours of the day. Any little wince was met quickly with ibuprofen and a hot water bottle. He set an alarm on his phone to make sure you took your antibiotics at the same time every night. He was even more adamant about ensuring you were eating and sleeping enough. When he caught you getting restless, he would take you on little drives around the neighborhood.

The inability to have sex for six weeks left a lot of time for talking, something he hadn't realized he so sorely needed until he didn't have a choice. He did want to get to know you on your terms, to understand the intricacies of your life and the way your brain worked. Truthfully, he wanted to know everything there was to know about you.

That way, he could better understand what you really needed.

"Le-" You caught yourself, clearing your throat before starting again. "D-Daddy, can I ask you something?"

The blonde smiled softly, cupping your chin as you laid in bed together. He was spooning you tightly and some random crime show was playing softly from the TV, but you weren't convinced either of you were really paying attention to it. You could feel his eyes glued to you the entire time.

"Of course, princess. What's on your mind, hm?"

You swallowed nervously, looking down at the floor. "Am I... am I missing?"

"What do you mean?" He tilted his head.

"Like... my family, my friends. Are they looking for me?" You asked.

He shrugged. "You don't have to worry about that, honey. I have the resources to make that sort of thing go away."

Tears rimmed your eyes, but you didn't show it. You took a deep, controlled breath before nodding, "Oh... okay."

A few beats of silence passed, and you nearly gave it up, but you couldn't help but pry further.

"Y-You didn't really answer the question, though," You said quietly. "Are they looking for me?"

"What does it matter?" He tightened his arm around your waist, nibbling at your ear, "You're safe with me. I intend to give you everything you'll ever need. That's no one else's business but ours."

You didn't think he realized he'd given you the answer without saying it explicitly. Your chest wound up into a knot, your stomach dropping. You couldn't stop thinking about how awful your loved ones must feel, begging for answers to your disappearance only to be met with doors slammed in their faces because Leon somehow managed to keep everything and everyone under his thumb.

Including you.

An image flooded your brain of your little apartment collecting dust as your closest friends and family entered with their keys to find everything exactly as you'd left it. You could see them all wandering your space, trying not to touch anything, scouring every inch for clues and perhaps realizing how much of your things were missing. Would they think you left on your own accord? Would they give up when they realized the authorities wouldn't help them?

Had they given up already?

The dam broke and you couldn't suppress your feelings any longer. You began to weep, tears spilling out over your cheeks as you involuntarily curled back into Leon's warm chest for some semblance of comfort. In your defense, he was pretty good at providing it, and at times like this it was just easier to give in.

He shushed you softly, petting your hair away from your face, pressing soft kisses to your temple. "I've got you, sweetheart. You're okay. Just let it out."

Something about him telling you to let it out made you really let it out. Your eyes screwed shut and you began to bawl, gripping his strong forearms to pull him closer as if he could possibly do so-- you were practically tangled around each other. You shifted your hips and turned over in his arms, burying yourself in his broad, bare chest, wetting his smooth skin with your anguish. He didn't care, he just held you tight and rubbed your back, whispering sweet praises and comforting affirmations into the crown of your hair.

"You're okay, princess. You're alright," He spoke lowly, lips brushing softly over the top of your head. He smelled so good, like cedarwood body wash, like fresh aftershave, like protection. "Poor baby. I know it hurts, but you've been such a good girl for me. Such a brave, sweet girl."

You went truly boneless, melting into his warmth, gripping him close like he'd just disappear if you let go. The irony was not lost on you-- you knew it was wrong to bask in his affection, to cry for comfort from the man who'd caused all your problems to begin with, but what choice did you have? You spent so much of your days alone now that you were starting to get sick of yourself.

It felt like you were going crazy. Every morning he would leave for work and you would feel some kind of relief for maybe an hour or two before you found yourself missing him. Longing for someone to talk to, someone to hold you and kiss you and just be in your presence. Longing for the way he'd play with your hair and rub your back, dote on your every need, even the way he'd mark up your body with his teeth. 6:00 p.m. would roll around and you'd find yourself restlessly pacing the room, glancing over at the door, pressing your ear up against it to listen, gazing out the locked window to search for his car. 

When he'd walk in you'd try really hard to pretend like you weren't so eagerly waiting for him, but you think he was starting to catch on to your lowered guard. It almost seemed like in return, his guard was lowering as well. He still remained vigilant about keeping the doors and windows locked when he wasn't home, but every now and then he would take you out into the living room, let you hang out in the kitchen while he cooked for you, let you sit by the sliding glass door to sunbathe and gaze into the backyard.

The strangest part of it all was you didn't really feel inclined to take advantage of his leniency. He kept his eyes on you at all times, so it's not like you had much of a chance to misbehave even if you wanted to, but knowing deep down that Leon had his resources and his ways of being able to track you down if you were to disappear made the prospect of escape that much less enticing.

In fact, making a break for it was starting to feel more dangerous and scary than just staying put.

Leon's voice, a low whisper, broke you out of your hazy confliction. "What do you need, puppy? What can I do to make you feel better, huh?"

"J-Jus' want daddy," You sniffled, haze settled over your brain, body aching and trembling with upset.

"You've got me. I'm right here, pup," He soothed, swiping your tears away from your reddened cheeks. "Poor baby... I'm right here."

It wasn't long before his hushed reassurances and gentle touch, coupled with the pure exhaustion of crying, lulled you into a deeper sleep than you had had since day one.

When you woke up the next morning you felt... weird, to say the least. After having cried it out your brain was much clearer now, and with that came the sickening realization of what you'd let happen last night. After all, from the second your tired eyes pried open, the first thing you noticed was Leon's arms still wrapped tightly around you. Suddenly you felt nauseous, disgusted with yourself.

You laid still as stone in his hold, trying your hardest not to move in fear of waking him. Perhaps last night you couldn't stand the thought of being alone with your thoughts but now you felt that was all you needed. You casted your eyes to the alarm clock next to the bed-- it was 5:45 a.m. 15 minutes until Leon's alarm would go off and he would have to get up, get ready and leave for work. Then you would truly be alone.

You couldn't pry your eyes away from the glowing red numbers, seconds stretching into what felt like hours as you waited impatiently for the alarm to sound. Your eyes dried and went sore before you remembered you needed to blink.

The soft peachy sunlight peeking in through the window would have been quite pleasant in any other circumstance. These days, it just came as a sore reminder of the time you'd lost locked in a psychopath's bedroom 24 hours a day. You thought of how nice it felt every now and then when he would let you accompany him to other areas of the house, and how much nicer it would be if you could just leave whenever you wanted. How nice it would feel to have that peachy sunrise beam directly on your skin. How nice it would feel to have grass between your toes, to drive a car again, to go to a restaurant.

With that reality just on the other side of the glass, it was as if the universe was laughing in your face. Dangling what you needed right in front of you and telling you that you couldn't have it. You might have started crying again if you hadn't drained yourself dry last night.

It suddenly dawned on you that if you had any sort of chance of escape, now would be the time. The likelihood of you being pregnant was incredibly slim, given recent events, and he trusted you more than ever by now. You weren't sure how you were going to pull it off, but you didn't have any choice but to try.

Your brain melded into a mush of ideas-- you could try the window, but the bedroom was on the second floor and it wouldn't be much use trying to jump out if you were just going to break your legs on the way down and have him find you that way upon his return home. You had tried jamming the lock on the door before and he'd caught you every time. There was no way he wouldn't catch you trying it now.

Your burning eyes trailed away from the alarm clock-- 5:53 a.m.-- and began to wander the room. Although there wasn't an inch of it you hadn't explored by now, you couldn't help but think there had to be something you could use to take the doorknob off. Anything even remotely resembling a screwdriver would be worth a try. Of course Leon wasn't stupid enough to leave tools lying around for you to play with, but perhaps you could find a viable work-around in something otherwise mundane. A nail file, a coin, tweezers, anything.

You were also painfully aware of how easy it might be for him to find you once you'd escaped, if you could escape. If you had any hope of getting the fuck out of town and hiding out, you would have to get to your apartment first, where your wallet was probably still collecting dust on your bedside table. If you could scrape up enough cash to catch a train or a Greyhound bus, you could be states away before he even got off work. Despite the nagging voice in the back of your head screaming this is a bad idea, all you could think about was how much it would be worth the risk if you managed to pull it off.

If I could manage to get the doorknob off, maybe I can get through the front door, too, and if not, maybe I could smash the sliding glass wi--

The alarm clock began screeching, signaling the start of Leon's day and reminding me you that you were supposed to be pretending to sleep. You screwed your eyes shut and shuffled around in his arms at the noise like you usually would, not wanting to arouse any suspicion that you weren't really sleeping.

Apparently, that wasn't sufficient.

"How long have you been awake, sweetheart?"

The first words out of his mouth. Fuck.

You shrugged innocently. "I don't know. Fifteen minutes or so."

He reached over you to shut off the alarm, tucking your hair behind your ear so he could cup your cheek and look into your eyes. "Hmm. Did you sleep alright?"

"Yeah, I slept pretty well, actually," You replied, looking right back into his own cobalt eyes as if to sell what you were saying even further. "I must be sleeping on your schedule now."

"Must be," He hummed, leaning in to lazily kiss your forehead.

It was a normal response, and maybe you were just being paranoid, but something about the tone in his voice made you feel like he didn't really believe you. You tried as hard as you could to force yourself not to react. You couldn't risk making him suspicious of you when you wholly planned on executing your escape today.

The two of you laid in silence for a few minutes, not atypical for him to want to snuggle for a while in the mornings, but eventually he really had to get out of bed and take a shower. Leon gave you a quick peck on the lips before disentangling himself from you, slinking out from beneath the covers and heading to the bathroom to wash up for the day.

You only really felt safe again once you heard the water running, letting out a deep, labored breath you hadn't realized was stuck deep inside your lungs.

Still, you had a job to do for now, and that job was acting normal.

You rose from the bed, turning on the lights and perusing the closet for something to wear. For the first few weeks you were there, Leon would return home for the day with more and more of your belongings, including clothes, and you had deduced it was because he was gradually moving your entire life into his bedroom. That being said, it was sort of nice to at least be surrounded by your own things and able to wear your own clothes.

Settling on a soft sweater and leggings, you gathered your outfit from where the items were neatly folded and began dressing yourself. On Leon's days off he preferred to pick your clothes out for you-- and dress you himself-- but on days like today when he had to get to work and wasted too much time cradling you in bed, he just didn't have the time, which was sort of a relief.

Once you were dressed you sat at the edge of the bed, turning on the TV to click through random channels. It was nice to have a glimpse into the outside world every now and again. You passed by a blur of morning cartoons, tabloid talk shows and sports recaps in search of a cooking show or a documentary or something, but as you flipped through the channels you saw a familiar face and nearly passed out. You quickly switched back to the news channel.

"--friends and family allege authorities have been no help in the search for the missing girl, leaving them to take matters into their own hands. Concerned loved ones have searched the vacant apartment for clues, attempted to track her devices and have left missing posters all over the city, each and every one, they say, has vanished within hours..."

Your heart sank deeply into your stomach. Tears welled up in your eyes. The fire to escape roared even louder within you. You had to put your hand over your mouth to quiet yourself as you began to cry.

The familiar face on the screen was you.

The image quickly switched over from your face to footage of your distraught friends and family speaking through tears.

"We don't know what's going on, if this is a cover-up or just negligent policing. All we want is answers to what happened to her. She was never the type to up and leave without saying a word. If she's out there somewhere hearing this, we want her to know that all we want is for her to come home. We hope she's safe, wherever she is, and on the off-chance she really did leave on her own, we just want to know why--"

The sound of the shower water shutting off jolted you back into focus. You hurriedly changed the channel back to the cartoons and wiped the tears off your face with lightning speed. Try as you might to relax, you knew you were still stiff, but you needed to compose yourself.

The bathroom door opened, warm steam rolling out in his wake as Leon re-entered the room in nothing but a towel hung low on his waist, water droplets peppering his alabaster skin.

"Cartoons this morning, huh?" He asked, smooching the crown of your head.

You shrugged apathetically. "Couldn't find anything better to watch, I guess."

He got dressed and gathered his things, keys jangling in his large hand as he gave you another kiss on the lips and took ahold of your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes.

"Have a good day, princess," He said. "Behave yourself for me, okay?"

There was definitely something in his tone that indicated he knew something you didn't. You nodded hesitantly.

"O-Okay, daddy, I will."

"Good girl," He said flatly, squeezing your jaw just a little bit, almost like a show of power, before walking out the door with a distinct click of the lock behind him.

Maybe you wouldn't be escaping today after all.

It was becoming harder and harder for you to operate on a daily basis when the only thing that made you feel safe was offering Leon complete and total honesty whenever he asked for it, whether you wanted to or not. He'd very much accomplished planting a seed of doubt in your head that he knew everything anyway, so it wasn't worth it to lie.

For months you had coasted along with half-truths, with saying things you didn't really mean just to please him. Now that that wasn't an option anymore, you felt stuck. Your own thoughts and words were the last things left that were sacred to you, and now they weren't, just like everything else. Like clockwork.

All of this resulted in Leon finally getting a straight answer from you when he asked you what you were thinking about as you sat at the table together, having breakfast.

"You seem distracted, princess," Leon hummed over his mug as he took a sip of coffee. "Wanna tell me what's on your mind?"

Every time he asked you this since that night, it felt like a test… because it was, really. Like he was daring you to lie to him, but you weren't going to bite.

You took a second to respond, clearing your throat, eyes fixed shyly on the plate in front of you. Then, you said it.

"What was the Raccoon City incident?"

Leon nearly choked on his coffee.

"What?" He asked after catching his breath, setting his mug down on the table as he stared at you in shock. Leon didn't know how to respond-- he already knew you looked through his laptop, but he didn't know exactly what you saw… not that he was going to admit that. Trying to keep a lid on his emotions, he continued in a straight tone, "Sweetheart, you're not supposed to know about that. No one is supposed to know about that."

"But… why?" You pressed, finally managing to look up at him. "What happened? You were there, weren't you?"

"I… yes, I was there, but I'm really not supposed to talk about it," Leon said definitely, his knuckles white around the handle of his mug. "I can't talk about. I-I won't."

As he continued to get shakier and more agitated, you started to realize it wasn't annoyance or rage he was experiencing, it was pain. Perhaps you'd touched a nerve with this one.

You straightened your posture, looking up at him with a calm and even expression. Eyebrows upturned with concern that even you couldn't tell whether or not was genuine, you asked, "Leon… Are you okay?"

He froze. He didn't even call you out for failing to address him by his desired title. The tension in the air was thick as he fought to find the right words, eyes fixed on his cup of black coffee. With a deep, shaky breath, Leon stumbled over his own tongue for a moment before looking up at you with an expression on his face that you could only describe as kicked puppy.

"I'm fine, princess, I just… I really don't want to talk about it. Can you please just drop it?"

Not exactly the response you were hoping for-- nor the response you were expecting-- but it was still useful in the sense that it revealed a vulnerability of his to you.

You didn't want to push him-- you'd done more than enough pushing lately. After a quick moment to gather your thoughts, you nodded slowly, eyes apologetic. "Okay, I'll drop it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's fine," He was quick to respond, though he wasn't looking at you anymore, returning his focus to what remained of his breakfast in front of him. You figured the conversation would end there, but were startled when he continued, "You know, darling, it's really not very kind of you to keep prying about things like that. You don't even know what it is you're asking about."

Your eyes widened a little at his swift change in tone. His words were firm and definitive now, almost scolding.

"I-I know," You whispered, taking a sip of water in an attempt to calm your nerves. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Leon blew right over what you'd said and continued his rant, "What happened in Raccoon City changed my life for the absolute worst. Ever since that night in 1998, I've suffered in every single way imaginable. You can't understand how painful it is for me to even think about it, let alone talk about it."

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off once more.

"That night stripped me of my personhood. It turned me into a weapon. It turned me into a bitter shell of myself and I don't think I'll ever recover from it. Every fucking day of my life has been dictated by what happened to me there, the people I lost, the cards I was dealt-- I can't escape it in my own mind and I can't escape it at work. Can you blame me for wanting to escape it at home?"

You weren't sure how exactly to respond to that. Everything about him right now screamed landmine and your deepest fear was making the wrong move. Drawing in a slow, deep breath, you resolved to maintain your composure as you replied calmly, "No, I don't blame you. That sounds awful."

…Whatever that was.

"Awful is a severe understatement," He scoffed. "Thousands of innocent people lost their lives and I could have been one of them. I should have been one of them."

"Hey, don't say that," You said in an attempt to soothe him, grateful that he was rambling enough to give you an idea of what had happened, but now you were really becoming concerned about the can of worms you'd just opened. You were beginning to regret asking him at all. Still, you continued trying to diffuse the situation, "You didn't deserve any of that and you certainly didn't deserve to die."

"And those people did?" He shouted, rising from the table in one swift movement as his palms slammed down on the hardwood, making you flinch. "I tried to save them. So many good people tried to save them and I survived. Why?"

You fell silent for a moment, wracking your brain for a response, but you couldn't really tell if he actually wanted one at all. He was watching you expectantly, like there was only one right answer, and you didn't know what to do.

"I-I don't know," You whispered, lowering your gaze to your lap, fidgeting nervously with your hands. "I don't have all the answers. I wish I did."

"But you don't, so how about you just do us both a favor and stop trying to fucking psychoanalyze me?"

"I'm not trying to psychoanalyze you, I just thought--"

"Thought what, huh? Like you have anything of note going on in that empty little head? That's real cute, princess."

Your jaw dropped and you stared up at him, blinking slowly. You were so deeply offended and your frustration was growing and you were trying so hard to keep a lid on it, not wanting to dig yourself into a deeper hole than you already had.

Clearing your throat softly, you returned to avoiding his eyes and said, "I don't like how you're talking to me right now. I just wanted to help you."

He laughed. A cruel, patronizing laugh, like he'd never heard something so stupid in his life. It made you want to shrink away into nothing.

"Yeah? Well, you can't. I don't know what else to say to get you to understand. You. Cannot. Help me. So stop trying and go back to doing your job."

Confused, you eyed him with furrowed brows. "My job?"

"Yes, your job. Go back to growing our baby and minding your own fucking business, like a good girl should."

"Leon!" You shouted, cheeks burning as you felt tears beginning to prick at your eyes. Part of you felt a bit stupid for getting so upset about this-- it's not like you didn't know that this was what he expected of you, but it wasn't often that he'd say the quiet part out loud. It felt as though he just couldn't help but continue to twist the knife.

Your shaking hand came down to rest on your growing bump, an attempt to draw him back to reality through the one thing you knew he wanted most. "I am the mother of your child, I can't believe you would say something like that to me when I've done exactly as you've asked and I gave you an honest answer. You said it yourself that it's not wrong for me to be curious. I'm sorry I hit a nerve on accident but that does not give you an excuse to lash out at me like I'm fucking stupid!"

"You ask me about one of the most painful nights of my life, and you expect me not to lash out?" He bit back.

Now you were standing too, your breakfast abandoned as you shouted, "I couldn't have known, Leon! How was I supposed to know?"

"You should have dropped it when I asked you to."

"I did!"

You seriously felt like you were going fucking crazy. Once more he was walking circles around you in his own completely delusional way, twisting your words right in front of you until they were unrecognizable, making you question everything that had happened over the past ten minutes. You couldn't wrap your head around him anymore. Every time you thought you were getting somewhere with him, he'd continue to surprise you, to find a new way to keep you under his thumb.

Shaking with rage and at a loss for words, Leon didn't know how else to express himself. Perhaps deep down he knew you were right, but it wouldn't serve him to give you the upper hand-- he felt as though he'd shown enough weakness to you lately, more than enough vulnerability, and that had to be a contributing factor to your behavior. He always wanted you to be comfortable with him, of course, but not like this.

In one swift movement he grabbed you by the shoulders, taking long strides forward until your back came flush with the wall. You let out a surprised gasp, but weren't given the chance to say anything because he beat you to the punch by clutching your throat just hard enough to pin you, his other arm perched against the wall beside your head.

He leaned in close, nose nearly touching your own as he growled through his teeth, "You do not get to talk back to me."

Eyes wide, you stared up at him in complete shock. You could still breathe, and you could have spoken if you wanted to, but you figured it best to choose your battles for now. The day had already gotten off to an awful start due to your prying, and as much as you wanted to stand up for yourself, you were beginning to realize that wasn't going to get you anywhere.

He taunted, "Aw, not so brave anymore, are you, baby?"

The hand of his that was on the wall dropped down, and the way he held your throat prevented you from looking down to see what he was doing. But, seconds later, a familiar metallic sound met your ears and you quickly realized he was undoing his belt.

Leon had made his decision on how to handle you. If you were so insistent on talking, he might as well stuff your throat with anything other than words.

Voice shaking, you tried one last time to reign him back to reality. "D-Daddy--"

"What part of stop talking do you not understand?" He cut you off, pressuring you down to your knees with just one hand.

Now you were face to face with the evident hardness beneath his jeans, and it was rather obvious what he was expecting of you. The hand that was around your throat just moments ago slid back to grip your hair in a messy wad at the base of your neck, the other making quick work of the button and zipper of his jeans.

Then, it dipped beneath the waistband of his boxers and he pulled out his reddened cock, giving himself a few strokes as he looked down at you and demanded, "Open wide, you dumb fucking slut."

What the fuck?

Your jaw dropped in shock and you were halfway through drawing in a breath to respond when he forced your head forward by your hair, his cock plunging deep into the back of your mouth. You coughed and gagged over him, completely unprepared for the intrusion, but he didn't seem to care.

"Breathe through your fucking nose, and swallow," Leon grunted, hips jutting forward impatiently as you felt the rosy head of him prodding further down your throat. "Don't act like you've never sucked a dick before."

As if your prior experience, or potential lack thereof, even mattered. Tears flooded your eyes as your nails bore into his legs. You were clawing for any semblance of stability as you drew in trembling breaths through your nose, swallowing around him in an attempt to suppress your gag reflex, but it wasn't a simple task given you were messily crying, your nose stuffy and your breathing uneven.

You tried to push yourself away from him by planting your palms against his hips, but every pound of pressure you exerted was returned twice as hard with the force of his grip on your hair, pressing you forward again until your nose was nearly brushing against the thatch of dark hair spread over his pubic bone. In any other situation perhaps you would have resorted to using teeth, but there was no way in hell you would be testing him with that today. Not when you were already being punished so harshly for asking what you thought was an innocent question.

Whimpering around the length of him, your teary eyes screwed shut as you resigned and allowed him to guide you up and down, up and down, up and down, his hips occassionally thrusting forward in a bruising jab at the back of your throat. He was growling and panting and biting his lip, fingers tightening in your hair as he fucked your mouth like a toy just to chase his own release.

"See, baby? This is what your mouth is good for. Not asking questions, not talking back, not screaming or crying or fighting. This," He groaned, looking down at you with a cold, smug grin. "Daddy's pretty little whore, my own personal throat to fuck and fill when I want, when I say so."

You wanted to shake your head, but you couldn't. For a brief moment he seemed to notice your face growing warm and your eyes beginning to droop and he did you the simple kindness of pulling back just long enough to allow you to draw in a few heaving breaths. After all, you couldn't learn your lesson if you weren't conscious.

"Breathe," He ordered, caressing the back of your head with his thumb as he stroked himself with his free hand in the absence of your mouth. "Deep breaths, little doll. There you go. Suddenly you know how to listen, huh?"

And shortly after he finished speaking, you were right back where you started, mouth full of his drippy, aching cock as he fucked your throat raw and continued to taunt you.

"Maybe we should do this more often, then, yeah? Remind you where you belong, down on your knees. No thoughts, no words, nothing occupying that thick fucking skull but pleasing your daddy."

Hot tears streamed from your closed eyes as you choked and let out muffled whimpers, trying so hard to measure your breathing through your nose to fight off the tingling feeling that accompanied a lack of adequate oxygen. Your head was swimming from the need to breathe and aching from the force of his grip on your hair, and if you dared to open your eyes you might have noticed the growing look of discontent on his face.

You were doing a fine job, given the circumstances. It wasn't about that. What was really scratching at him was the guilt.

Leon truly never meant to hurt you. He never desired to put you through anything less than you deserved, which in his mind was the absolute best. Sometimes that meant disciplining you, sure, but it never felt great. He never really wanted to, he just… had to, to keep you safe, to keep you in line, to keep you from doing stupid things that would only ever hurt you in the end. No one else knew how to care for you like he did, not even yourself. He didn't have a choice.

But he could never stay mad at you for long, either.

The way your doe eyes fluttered up at him now, lashes flooded with tears, your skin flushed and hot as you choked and cried around his cock, clawing at him for mercy… He felt terrible. He felt like a monster. Like the same breed of person who would be responsible for something like what happened in 1998.

Now it was Leon's eyes flooding with tears. He was far too deep into this to back out… But you were hurting, you were scared, not of that big bad outside world but of him, your daddy, your protector. The father of your child and the only man who could truly worship you in the way you were designed to be.

And you were right to be scared. That's what hurt the most.

You were startled back to reality from your daze at the sound of his voice, his grip on your hair going softer for a moment before it tightened again and forced you back down, as though he was fighting an internal battle with himself. "I'm sorry," Leon said, voice breaking. "I'm so sorry, my pretty baby…"

Blinking slowly, you looked up at him and drew in a breath through your nose as well as you could, cheeks chapped and stained with excess tears. That was a collection of words you never thought you would hear out of him. Sure, he was still fucking your mouth like he would die if he didn't, but he apologized to you.

The sight of your tired, crying face made him weak and he couldn't stand to look anymore, sealing his eyes shut as he tilted his head up to the ceiling. Leon was breaking down for the first time you'd ever witnessed, and it was… confusing as hell, to say the least.

What you weren't expecting was for him to continue his apology, repeating it into the air as though he was asking your forgiveness of every thrust of his hips, every tug of your hair and every prod at the back of your sore throat. Mouth otherwise occupied, you couldn't respond even if you knew what to say, so he just… kept going, his hands starting to shake as he cried.

Just when you thought he couldn't possibly catch you off guard again, of course he did.

"Raccoon City," He said, huffing out a flustered breath as the pace of his hips began to falter a bit. "It was… It was my first exposure to bioterrorism."

You weren't sure whether or not he actually expected you to be listening in your current state, but you tried your hardest just for good measure.

He continued, "This manmade virus swept the whole city, and I just had to be one of the few people to survive… T-The whole place was bombed. All those innocent people just… wiped off the map. I-I couldn't save them, princess, I… I couldn't save them."

You were growing a bit desperate for air again, but knew you weren't likely to cut through to him in this state. Your nails bore into his hips as you drew in slow breaths through your nose, your own cries paused for now. The scene before you was too fascinating not to capture what remained of your focus.

"Every single day since then I've had to relive it, sent out on mission after mission after mission just to watch good people die over and over again, all to the same damn thing…" His grip curled painfully into your hair and his jaw dropped with a few hoarse grunts of pleasure. You could tell just by his body language that he was nearing his peak. Still, he continued, "But you, my princess… You I can keep safe. You I can control. That baby in your belly, sweetheart… it's a miracle of life. The first good card I've been dealt since 1998, and I'm not letting it go for anything. I'm not letting you go for anything, you hear me?"

To the best of your ability, you shook your head in a short but definitive nod.

"That's my girl," He sighed out, his free hand reaching up to swipe discreetly at his tears as if you hadn't already seen them. "My good fuckin' girl."

Shortly thereafter he pulled out of your mouth with restraint, tipping your chin up with one hand and stroking himself to completion with the other as you coughed and gasped for breath. You didn't have a chance to react before ropes of warm, sticky cum were cast over your crying face, dotting your flushed skin with his pearlescent spend.

Your mouth hung open in shock as you dragged in as much air as you could through your sore throat. Suddenly a thought crossed your mind-- you were pretty sure this was the first time he'd ever finished anywhere but inside you.

There were many things Leon felt rather confident you didn't need to know.

You didn't need to know how you got here, because all that mattered was that you were here now. You didn't need to know the only rooms inside the house with cameras included the master bedroom and the office, because if you were under the impression you were constantly being watched, then certainly you would feel deterred from misbehavior. The more time that passed since you'd asked him about his field of work-- and subsequently decided to stick your nose where it didn't belong-- he was beginning to feel like you didn't really need to know more than he'd already offered about the nature of his job, either.

As deeply as he loved you, Leon prided himself on keeping you at a healthy distance from the aspects of his life that ran the risk of scaring you, or worse, putting you in danger. In his eyes, you were just a precious little thing who wouldn't be able to handle those things and shouldn't have to. Not three days had passed since he broke down and gave you the tip of the iceberg about what happened in Raccoon City and he was already kicking himself for it.

Which is why he nearly punched another fucking hole in the wall when Hunnigan rang in the middle of the night, waking him from a dead sleep at half past four just to tell him he was being assigned on another mission.

He argued. He pleaded. He begged, but there was no time for stalling-- the mission was apparently urgent-- and whatever the problem was couldn't wait for him to ensure his affairs were in order. Leon was expected to pack up and leave as soon as the call would end, pregnant girlfriend be damned.

But he wasn't going to leave it at that. He couldn't, not in good conscience. In hindsight he was pissed at himself for not coming up with a plan for this-- how exactly was he supposed to keep an eye on you while thousands of miles away on a mission? Oftentimes he didn't even have a reliable form of contact with anyone while he was away, not even with his superiors. How was he supposed to hold his sweet little princess accountable? What if something happened to his baby? What if something went wrong while he wasn't home to fix it?

What really troubled him too was the worry that you would get lonely while he was away. You'd been particularly clingy-- and bold-- since you fell pregnant and it broke his heart to imagine what you might do when left to your own devices, even if you were under the slightly exaggerated impression that you were being constantly surveilled.

He couldn't send someone to spend time with you. Not only would that run the risk of blowing his cover, but he couldn't bear the thought of his little angel being corrupted by anyone else. You belonged to him and only him. Giving you the chance to form a relationship with another person just wasn't an option, in Leon's mind.

He didn't have time to install more cameras. No stores were open at a time like this and on top of that he was expected to present himself at work 'within the hour, preferably less,' to quote Hunnigan directly. Even if he started now, not only would he be at risk of waking you up, but it would take way too long to install them all.

It was beginning to dawn on him that he had backed himself into a corner with only one choice-- he had to just trust you.

Gripping at his hair, Leon let out a deep sigh and rose reluctantly from bed, charging over to the closet to begin packing. As per usual, he had no idea how long he would be gone. The more he thought about this the more frustrated he became with the situation, and as hard as he was trying to keep quiet and avoid waking you up, he was silently fucking losing it. He was livid.

He stormed downstairs to his office to retrieve a few things he would need to take with him, and when he returned to the bedroom it would seem his little angel had stirred awake. You were sort of half sat up, rubbing your eyes tiredly as you blinked against the light flooding in from the hallway when he opened the door.

"Daddy?" You mumbled, suppressing a yawn to the best of your ability. "What are you doing?"

Leon's heart shattered to a million pieces as he looked at you from the doorway, thinking about just how unprepared you were for what he was about to say. You looked so cute with your messy bedhead and your droopy eyes and your rounded belly, all tucked into his bed and wondering why he wasn't there beside you. His expression softened and he came to your bedside, sitting next to you with one hand rested on your bump and the other caressing your cheek.

"Sweetheart, I… I'm gonna be gone for a while, okay?" He began, hoping to deliver the news to you as softly as possible. "I've gotta go on a mission, and I don't know when I'll be back…"

You blinked hard a few times, as if trying to decide whether this was real or you were still dreaming. "How long is 'a while?'" You asked.

Leon frowned, hesitating for a moment to respond. A beat passed, and he said cautiously, "I really don't know, baby. It could be a few days, it could be a few weeks…" He trailed off, like he didn't want to continue, but the implication was clear that it could be even longer. He let out a slow breath and tilted your chin up. "I don't have much time, so I need you to listen to me carefully, okay? We need to go over a few things before I go and I need your word that you understand."

You sat up even straighter at his words, the abrupt rush of anxiety that came over you making you much more alert than you were just seconds ago. Resting your hand atop his own on your bump, you nodded, "O-Okay."

"Okay," He began with a short huff. "All of my rules for you still stand while I'm gone. No running off, no misbehavior, and you need to take care of yourself. You're five months pregnant, sweetheart, you need to be resting and getting plenty to eat, alright?"

Once more, you nodded, "Yeah, of course."

"Good. I don't want you doing anything unnecessarily dangerous, either. No heavy lifting, no climbing up on the counters to reach things, no rushing up and down the stairs. If you wouldn't do it in front of me, don't do it while I'm gone."

"Okay--"

"Lastly," He cut you off, "I have a few contacts I'm willing to send over to check on you if I'm worried something's up, but do not let anyone into the house. If they were sent by me, they'll have a key, they won't knock. So if anyone knocks, you shut all the lights off and hide until they go away, okay, baby?"

"Okay, daddy," You looked him in the eye as you spoke, hoping to set his nerves at ease and convince him that you really agreed, and the more you thought about it, the more you felt like you really did. Under the threat of such heavy surveillance-- and all that trouble you'd gotten yourself into lately-- you felt inclined to obey him. "I understand."

His thumb caressed softly over your cheek, his grip on your chin tightening just enough to hold you where you were. "You promise?" Leon whispered, his gaze intense, as though he were trying to read your expression for any indication that you weren't being truthful. Hypocritical, given he wasn't really being truthful with you, but that didn't bother him. In his eyes, he was just acting in your best interest.

"I do, I promise," With a straight face you held out one hand, pinky extended. "Pinky promise."

Leon's worried expression softened a little at this and he nodded, linking his pinky with your own. You were entirely too adorable.

"Thank you, angel. You're such a good little doll for your daddy, you know that? So precious and sweet. I'm gonna miss you two more than you could ever understand," He said, dipping his head down to press three sweet kisses to your belly, looking up at you all the while. "Time will fly by and I could return home any moment, so don't let yourself get too lonely, okay? I'll be thinking of you every second."

His tone implied he was trying to comfort you, but his words told a different story. Was that a threat? A warning?

You swallowed your thoughts back and instead gave him a soft smile. "Be safe, please," You whispered.

Leon nodded, blinking back tears, the warm palm of his hand smoothing over your bump with longing and affection. He was stalling at this point. He didn't want to leave.

After a few beats of silence, he spoke, "I will, I'll be so safe. After all, I've got such a sweet little doll at home waiting for me with a bun in the oven. I will come back to you, darling, no matter what."

With that he rose from where he sat, leaning down to capture you in a kiss. Your lips parted and he gave you one more smooch to the forehead before grabbing his bag and heading out.

As he closed the door behind him, he couldn't help the fact that his entire body was trembling with an anxiety unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Leon had faced countless trials and tribulations over the years, fought truly Eldritch monsters with his bare hands and lived to see another day each time, but nothing scared him more than the thought of losing you.

You listened carefully as his footsteps descended the stairs, and shortly thereafter you heard the front door open and shut. He was gone. For the first time in months, Leon was truly gone. Not just at work for a few hours, or the store for a while, or in the other room. He was gone.

You felt achy. All over.

Physically, of course, but also mentally. Psychologically. This horrible, hollow pain that radiated from your tight chest and crept into your brain, settled in your sour stomach. Through the fog of noise in your head, somewhere between stagnant and rambling, you passively realized you couldn't remember the last time you'd eaten, showered, blinked... Your eyes were so dry, it stung a bit when you forced them shut. The hum of the ceiling fan continued.

Your bed didn't even feel comfortable anymore, but you couldn't care enough to move-- your hair was dangerously close to matting, the air in the room hung stiff, the bedding was well overdue for a wash, but... when you got close enough, his pillow still faintly smelled like him, so you held it. The stray shirt of his that you'd found mixed in with your dirty laundry still faintly smelled like him, so you wore it. His spare toothbrush sat untouched on the bathroom counter, right where he'd left it. To dare moving anything from his intended place for it felt like a crime. 

It had been just over a month since Leon had left you. It was so sudden, so utterly shattering, and as he disappeared into that night you were never given a chance at closure. For days you tried calling, texting, left voicemail after embarrassing voicemail until one day your texts began failing to deliver, and your calls would no longer go through. He'd blocked you. Beyond any and all parameters of how you'd ever expected to lose him, he was just... done with you. You apparently didn't even deserve a response from him. You didn't deserve closure. You couldn't stop analyzing all of your interactions in the preceding weeks, trying to think if you'd noticed him being cold or dismissive, telltale symptoms of the ick, but you came up with nothing.

Eighteen months of the most intimate love and connection you'd ever experienced with another person, all rendered nothing overnight. That night...

It was a biting January evening. A slow work day. You finished up your work early and were able to head home at a rare 3:30 pm, but unfortunately, Leon was stuck late at work. 

Again.

You weren't mad at him, of course-- far from it. You felt so bad for him. His entire life he'd done nothing but work himself to the bone for other people and you truly wondered how often he was even given his proper dues for that. You had never met someone so self-destructive in their altruism as him. On top of that, it didn't help that he wasn't allowed to share any of the details of his work with you, let alone anyone else. He had stressed to you time and time again how insanely classified the vast majority of his job is, and while you certainly believed him, you just felt so powerless to sit back and watch the toll it was taking on him.

That's not to say you didn't try your absolute best to be there for him in every other way possible, though-- when things got particularly bad you would make sure he was eating, sleeping, getting the love and attention he deserved. You'd do just about anything to put a smile on his tired face, to take his mind off of things for a while. Typically, you were at least somewhat successful, but for how long was a whole other demon. Of course you were happy to do these things for him, it was truly no problem if it meant easing his pain, but after a certain point it became evident that you were fighting a losing battle, and it terrified you.

It wasn't until almost 10:00 pm that his key slid into the lock, and he stepped into your shared apartment. Upon hearing him, you perked up from your spot on the bed, slipping out from beneath the covers to greet him, but just before you reached the bedroom door, it swung open and he charged into the room. His steps were heavy, his jaw and shoulders tense-- it stunned you for a moment. You weren't sure how to interpret what was happening until he started gathering his things.

"Leon, are you okay? What's going on?" You asked, still frozen in place by the door. 

He didn't even look at you as he continued haphazardly shoving clothes into his duffel bag. "I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore."

"What?"

"I just don't think this is going to work out. I love you, but I have to leave."

You could have been shot. Suddenly your legs were numb and wobbling to uphold your own weight, and you went completely cold, like the blood had drained from your body. "W-What? Where is this coming from? What did I do wrong?"

"It's nothing you did," He answered as he zipped the bag. "We just can't be together." He turned on his feet to leave again. It was like adrenaline kicked in and you scrambled to follow him.

Grasping at the sleeve of his jacket, tears flooding your eyes, you were in absolute disbelief. You never saw this coming in a million years and even if you had, you never could have prepared yourself for what it'd feel like to lose him. "Leon, please don't do this," You wept, nails biting into the leather, trying as you might to pull him back while knowing you weren't nearly strong enough. "Please talk to me. I-I don't understand--"

He turned to face you suddenly, and it was then that you were finally able to see that his beautiful blue eyes were rimmed with tears, too. Oh how those tears enhanced the crystalline nature of his gorgeous blue, turning from calm shoreline to deep ocean. It was such a beautiful sight you never hoped to see again. "I know you don't understand."

Those simple words only twisted the knife. "I want to!" You cried.

"You can't!" Leon shouted back. With each passing second you felt yourself sinking into the floor, wasting away right before him. You wanted the Earth to open beneath you and swallow you up. You wanted this to just be a sick nightmare. "You can't. It's nothing you did or didn't do, you couldn't have done anything differently. This just isn't going to work."

He started towards the door again, but while he might be much stronger than you, he isn't faster-- before you even really thought about it you had slipped between him and the door, blocking his path. "Don't shut me out! I love you, Leon, I want to fix this, but I can't do anything if you don't tell me what's wrong! Please, I can't even imagine my life without you in it--" Your breath caught on your own tears, cutting off your miserable rambling. For a moment he hesitated, and you wondered if you'd actually managed to get through to him. Voice shaking, you continued, "Please don't leave. I love you."

With a deep sigh, he rested his hand on your shoulder, and you were so ready to let your guard down that you didn't realize you'd misinterpreted until it was too late. He simply nudged you out of the way and turned the handle. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Take care."

"No!" You sobbed, trying to grab him by his jacket again but he wasn't letting it happen this time. "Leon! Don't do this! Don't leave!" He just kept walking, his figure receding down the hall as you collapsed to your knees in the doorway. "D-Don't leave..." Your words broke miserably, fading as he turned the corner and disappeared from your sight. You cared little about bothering your neighbors at this point. You could only cry in the wake of him.

There was a clumsy knock at the door, loud enough for you to have heard it from the bedroom. You froze, feeling anxiety overtake you at the sound, but you tried to tell yourself it was just a package being delivered or something. Holding your breath, you waited, and then came another knock, even louder this time. Your arm slipped out from beneath the covers, reaching for your phone to check the time-- 1:34 am. Definitely not the mailman.

Your heart sank. With great strain you forced yourself out of bed, bones creaking in sync with the floorboards, telling yourself over and over in your head that it was probably just one of your neighbors, or maybe the landlord. You grabbed a random pair of pajama shorts off the floor to preserve your modesty, stumbling into them with weak muscles, given you'd practically been in bed for a month straight. You turned the light on in the kitchen as you passed through, approaching the door, which was given yet another considerably loud knocking. Nervously, you raised yourself up on your tip toes and looked through the peephole.

And, just like that, the wind was knocked out of you.

Trembling, you hurried to unlock the door and swung it open. You didn't even have a chance to say anything before he stumbled inside, nearly taking you out in the process. Surprised, you took a step backwards for your own safety and he nudged the door shut again with his foot.

"Baby, I miss you," Leon slurred, coming closer as you moved away from him, that is until your back came up against the closet beside the door. "I thought you'd be better off without me, but I can't do it. I can't stay away from you."

The stench of straight bourbon hung around him, clung to his every word. You stuttered, "Y-You've been drinking..."

He put his hand on the wall next to your head to steady himself, the other brushing your hair behind your ear in what you guessed was a less than graceful attempt to be intimate in his drunkenness. "Baby, I'm sorry, okay? I only ever w-wanted to protec-ct you," He hiccupped. "I-I just wanted to keep you safe. But I just... I have to have you. Just let me have you again, baby."

As badly as you missed him, as much time as you'd spent withering away in bed, craving to have him back, something about his drunken pleading was sort of... pissing you off. The fact that he'd just up and left so harshly, so out of the blue, with zero explanation, and had the gall to get shitfaced and show up on your doorstep in the middle of the night begging for your forgiveness... it was insulting. Almost laughably so.

Planting a weak hand on his chest, you pushed him away, which wasn't hard to do given his intoxication, and you slipped past him to walk into the kitchen. "I'm sorry, you wanted to protect me? From what? And in order to do that you had to just pick a random day to rip my fucking heart out and disappear for a month?" Your volume, your anger heightened with every single word, like this entire time your depression had just been boiling inside you, melding into the deepest form of resentment. "I seriously can't believe you right now. This is fucking stupid."

He clambered after you, reaching for your arm but settled for resting his hand on your back when you swatted him away. "I know, I-I'm sorry... I shouldn't have done it the way I did. If I could take it all back I w-would--"

"But you can't, Leon! I will never get back the weeks I've spent in bed, wishing I would just fucking die. I've barely slept, I've hardly been going to work, I haven't been eating, because I can't even keep anything down-- I don't even feel like a fucking person anymore. Did you think I was just going to shrug and move on with my life? You fucking ruined me!" You couldn't even look at him as you screamed, even if you wanted to your vision was blurred with tears and you didn't want to let him see you crying right now. You busied yourself with getting a glass of water for him instead. At least if he sobered up you could have an actual conversation. "Are you even going to explain yourself? Or is it yet another one of those 'confidential' things I'll just have to make peace with never knowing the truth about?"

"Well.. p-part of it, I guess, but you have to believe me when I say I can't tell you. It wouldn't just be my life on the line, but yours too, and I would never take that risk," He was still slurring his words, which made it incredibly hard to take him seriously. It really only seemed to pour salt on the wound. Rolling your eyes, you slid him the glass of water and leaned back against the countertop. "W-What's this for?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Would it kill you to drink something that doesn't have liquor in it?"

He scoffed. "Babe--"

"Just drink the fucking water, Leon."

He obliged, to humor you if nothing else, but you did hope it would help. It was almost embarrassing how willing you were to nurture him, given what he'd put you through, but he thoroughly looked like hell, and you weren't going to let him waste away. Though, now that there was a gap in the argument, and you had a chance to breathe, you caught a glimpse of your own reflection in the oven, and, well, you weren't looking so hot either. Your dark circles were pitiful, and your eyes bloodshot. You sincerely looked like you'd had the shit beaten out of you. Your lips were cracked, your tongue stuck to the roof of your dry mouth and your hair was thickly knotted, collarbones peeking out of his shirt that was obviously very well slept in.

His voice brought you out of your daze. "Honey, your arm..." Suddenly he was approaching from behind, taking a gentle hold of your left arm, and though at first it took you a second to realize, you quickly jolted away from him, pulling your arm up to your chest. 

Your back collided with the oven, and you turned your head away. "It's nothing."

"Y-You've been hurting yourself again--"

"So have you!" You yelled, but you knew it was a weak defense. About as quickly as you'd heated up, you'd gone cold, sinking away from him and still having a hard time meeting his eyes as he gently took hold of your arm again to look at it. His thumb skimmed over your skin with a featherlight touch, tracing the winding red trails that stung in their healing. "I-It's just scratches, I haven't been cutting or anything..."

Leon just shook his head, drawing you into his chest, and this time you didn't try to fight it. You let him hold you. He wrapped you up in his arms, rubbing your back, and as your head laid on his broad chest it felt like a broken piece of your life had just been laid softly back into place. "It's not just scratches, and you're right, I shouldn't be drinking," He sighed into your hair. "I guess we've both fallen back into old habits."

As much as you wanted to convince yourself that it was the water, you had a sore feeling that it was the shock of recognizing the state of you that sobered him up. Either way, the return of some level of coherence to his words was an immense comfort. Tearfully, you whispered into his shirt, "Yeah, I guess so."

"I really am sorry about the way I ended things between us," Leon sniffled, holding you a little tighter as if he were pleading with you to just listen to him. "My job is very dangerous, and very demanding. If something were to happen to me, or god forbid to you, because of me, I don't know that I'd ever be able to forgive myself. I-I know it's stupid, but I thought that the only way I could keep you safe was to remove myself from you completely."

"Leon... what have you gotten yourself into?"

He let out a hollow, defeated chuckle. "It's... it's a long story, sweetheart."

Pulling away from his chest just enough to allow yourself the space to look up at him, you asked, "Are you ever gonna be able to tell me what it is that you do every day?"

"Nothing's impossible, I guess-- maybe someday."

Maybe someday, huh? A sense of relief washed over you, not at the idea that you might eventually be let in on this big confidential secret, no-- in fact, you sincerely doubted that he'd ever be able to tell you at all, and was probably just saying that in an attempt to make you feel better-- but the way he'd worded it implied a future with you in it. A distant future.

Leon himself had always joked that it was never a good idea to plan very far ahead in his life. This meant something. 

But it wasn't over yet, and you were far from ready to forgive him. "How can I trust that you're not just going to up and leave me again?"

For a second he seriously hesitated to respond, clearly fighting with himself internally over the right words to say. You couldn't blame him, but it was an important question that you felt more than deserved an answer at this point. Tucking your hair behind your ear, he replied, "Now that I know what it's like to try to live without you, I don't think I can ever put myself through that again. As miserable as I was, as much as I wish I could take that time back, it... taught me a lot about what's important to me. It taught me a lot about what I really want in life."

Now it was you having a hard time coming up with a response.

Taking note of this, he continued. "Look, I know I fucked up. And, again, I'm sorry. I can't justify it, it was a brash decision made in a vulnerable moment and I never should have lashed out at you like that. I know I don't deserve a second chance after what I've put you through, but I-I promise... I swear, that if you just let me, I will do whatever it takes to make this right. I want to be with you. I love you."

The answer was obvious. Of course getting back together wouldn't come without its trials, without repentance... but you loved him too. You wanted to be with him too. And, in your shared pain, your mutual longing for each other, you supposed you could allow one night to pretend like everything was okay again. Holding him was certainly more satisfying to the soul than holding his unwashed pillow. 

You took a deep breath and sank into his chest again, burying your face into his shirt. He was so warm. "I love you too," You whispered. "It's late. We should get to bed."

This response stunned him for a moment, his hands that were softly rubbing your back just a second ago halted in their movement as it sank in. After a few seconds he dipped down to kiss the crown of your head before asking quietly, as if he were nervous of your response, "You mean together, right?"

Leon knew a lot about the human psyche, but you were an odd one. He had a hard time figuring you out.

That is, until he discovered you were somewhat of an iPad baby.

You were angry with him? He'd let you play games on his phone for a little while. You were crying your eyes out? He'd subdue you with a random cooking show on TV. Coming home with a new movie for you to watch was becoming a rather effective reward for good behavior.

While you fancied a good true crime documentary before Leon had taken you in, you found yourself more partial to nature documentaries as of late. It was only natural-- you'd hardly been outside longer than a cumulative fifteen minutes over the past few months and truth be told, they were quite relaxing. It was easy to set your anxiety aside and ignore it when you had an hour and a half of baby animals in front of you.

When Leon woke up for work in the morning, he was surprised to notice the soft glow of the TV in the dark room. He rolled over to study your face, finding your eyes red with exhaustion as you stared blankly at the screen.

"You're still awake, princess?" He asked, voice low and clouded with sleep.

You hummed vacantly. "There's duckies," You said flatly, still staring straight ahead, unblinking. It was a bit unnerving.

He followed your gaze to the screen. You were watching some kind of nature show and there were indeed duckies, he couldn't argue with that. While he was concerned about your mental state deep down, he couldn't help but think of how he'd rather you like this than screaming and crying and fighting him. If something as simple as a nature documentary was enough to practically hypnotize you, he'd take it.

"Okay, sweet girl," He gave in. "I love you."