#hofah

note: hello everyone 👋 i have come forth with a new story today, but this one is a bit different than the others and that's making me a bit nervous to share

it's a leon x oc with big fat dead dove elements and shit hits the fan pretty quick so be warned and read the warnings pls

if i were to give a spoiler free, general description, it's basically leon if he had extra bad childhood trauma in addition to his canon pstd. so it makes him a pro max yandere little pyscho yet still somehow big pathetic yearner baby saint later (don't ask me how)

Her body bounces on the old couch as soon as the young woman plops down on it, sinking between the cushions and taking a deep, steadying breath.

Today was not a good day. Well, none of her days are all that good to begin with, but today particularly, was not a great one.

She had just come back from her shitty job, to get to her shitty apartment that she shares with her shitty boyfriend. The one she can't even leave because he pays for the rent. And all she has managed to find after months of job searching was a pathetic part time position at the Walmart on the other side of D.C. 

The commute is a whole hour on the metro for each trip, but surprisingly enough that was one of the few moments she didn't feel like her life was too bad. Listening to music with no one to bother her, no one to look twice at her. Especially since she refused to dress in anything but basic jeans and oversized t-shirts, with a face that very much says ‘do not talk to me.’

It's not like she woke up one day and decided to be depressed, it's that life has always been difficult. Deadbeat dad, and a single, immigrant mom in a country that offered a dream made up of funfetti and lies. No siblings, no close relatives, just her, her mother, and her mother's BPD.

Then, she reached adulthood and thought life would get better, only to get further fucked by student loans for a useless degree, and a narcissistic boyfriend that respects her so little he doesn't even touch her anymore.

She's fine with that part, though—she hasn't felt attracted to him in months either. Ever since the loving façade dropped to reveal the asshole that makes her feel like a waste of space, she can barely tolerate him let alone want to share his bed.

At least he lets her live with him in exchange for a quarter of the monthly bills—the only amount she can afford—and all of the housework.

Every single day she wonders if she's meant to live this shitty forever. ‘Probably yes’, she thinks to herself. She wasn't meant to amount to anything in the first place. Just a pathetic little girl with a sad story that's not sad enough to be an excuse for the failure that she turned out to be.

Oh, well, at least she has her screen addiction to keep her mind distracted. Or more precisely, her hyper fixation that's been going on for a solid two years now over a horror game franchise and one of its heroes.

Leon S. Kennedy. 

Star of Resident Evil games and a certified heartthrob, he’s her biggest obsession to the point she's certain it has gone past the threshold of healthy. Not that she cares about health that much anyway. She could die at any moment and be fine with it, so long as it's not super painful.

She does hope she can complete her nth playthrough of the remake of the 4th installment, though. It’s the one game that has her hooked the most with its superb replayability and rewarding challenges.

Right now, as she boots up her gamer laptop—one of the few ‘assets’ to her name—and the screen glows in the small living room, she is excited to complete the time challenge necessary on Hardcore mode. It’ll earn Leon a chicken hat that reduces damage taken, so that she can then complete the S+ rank on Professional and get him the cat ears, which everyone knows is the ultimate prize. He just looks so cute in those!

Because as much as she raves about the gameplay, the story, the graphics or even the soundtrack, the truth of the matter is she is as smitten as they come when it comes to the pixelated blonde man. 

There’s a reason he’s her lockscreen on all devices and she owns multiple shirts with his face on them—he is drop dead gorgeous and she could stare at him for hours. Which she does, considering she plays as him for nearly every waking moment not spent at work or doing chores. And not only that, his tragic story and wonderful character traits has her convinced he would be the absolute best boyfriend ever—PTSD included. 

With a sip from her sticker decorated bottle of water—all of them of chibi Leon—she leans against the backrest of the sofa with a sigh, ready to start playing. She didn't even bother removing her sneakers, needing to distract herself as soon as she came home from a tiring day. Her bra was removed the minute she walked through the door, though. That one is non-negotiable.

With the PS5 controller she plays with in hand, she watches as the screen’s blue light reflects on her pupils in the dimly lit room. Her real boyfriend had already gone to bed, and she never bothered to check on him anyway. She will do what she does every single night: play her favorite game and stare at her favorite person. A fake, video game character, but currently the best thing in her life nonetheless, as pathetic as it may sound.

After launching the game, his digitalized, dark blonde hair sways with impressively realistic graphics as she controls him to walk through the first area of the story: the village. She had successfully made him collect a key from the priest’s home in record time, and now he’s on the quest to find yet another key. This one for the gate of the church where Ashley, the fictional president’s daughter, is held captive by the villainous cult.

Controlling him to go through a tunnel in a cave, she does not pause to take the items from the bountiful crates as this is a speedrun. She's as focused as can be knowing the next step is to dash past a pack of infected wolves in an area where later she’ll fight a giant. 

With her eyes trained on Leon’s back, the camera suddenly moves so it captures him from a top view without her guiding it. Her fingers push the analog to control the camera back down but it doesn't follow her command. If anything it keeps moving further up, going higher and higher, Leon appearing gradually smaller in his spot, so that she wonders if she accidentally launched the free cam mod.

What occurs next happens so fast she barely has time to register it.

The 15 or so inch wide screen of her laptop suddenly grows and stretches, until it’s the size of a TV, then a window, then a full damn wall. Unable to move away from it, she's suddenly engulfed by the pixels that completely surround her.

One moment she's on the couch, the next she's free falling in cold, humid air.

While her brain struggles to comprehend what's going on, her lungs instinctively scream in fear as she watches the gravelly ground rapidly approaching under her, her limbs flailing frantically.

She barely catches the sight of familiar blue eyes looking up at her, when she's suddenly hitting something hard as her body lands on the stone riddled floor. Not as hard she'd expect rocky terrain to feel though.

“What the hell?” a voice grunts from under her as her lungs struggle to fill from the force of impact.

When she blinks away the dizziness to gather her surroundings, she realises she's on top of someone—a man—laying on his back. She's straddling him in a rather compromising position, and she quickly scrambles to get off his body, when her eyes land on his face and she freezes completely.

What. The. Fuck.

It’s him.

It’s him.

Okay.

Okay.

She's dreaming, right?

Yeah, she's most definitely dreaming.

Lucid dreams are not something she's often had before but it seems she's found herself in one. Because she's currently on top of none other than what looks like Leon S. Kennedy, who’s staring up at her with a mix of confusion and irritation.

“Who are you?” he asks, confused, as he tightens his grip on his gun, his eyes calculating as they look her up and down—probably to assess if she's a threat. 

“What the fuck…” she whispers, still completely paralyzed in place.

At the lack of an adequate answer, he nudges her off him with a groan, causing her ass to land on the rocky ground that digs into her flesh too sharply to be a dream.

In fact, none of this really feels like a dream.

He stands up quicker than someone who’s just been hit by the weight of a human adult at high velocity should be able to. Then, he points his gun at her, not quite at her face, but at her nonetheless.

“You speak English, right? Then answer my question. Who are you?” he asks again, jaw locked tight. 

“I-I… Holy shit… I’ve finally lost it…”  It’s difficult for her to register the full danger of being on the wrong side of a loaded barrel, because now her mind is too busy with the fact she has gone crazy. 

It’s not exactly surprising that she's hallucinating her comfort character from the sheer volume of hours spent obsessing over him. It seems her subconscious has decided it’s no longer enough to daydream, it might as well create an entire reality where she's in his company. She just didn't think her brain would make him so hostile to her in such a scenario—it must be the self-loathing part of her that concocted this plan.

“I’ll ask you one more time. If you don't answer, I’m leaving you here to deal with this bullshit alone. Who are you and what are you doing here? And how the hell did you fall from the sky?”

This time, he most definitely is pointing the SG-09 R at her stupidly dazed face, and that finally scares her enough to answer his question.

“Okay, okay! Just… lower that gun please?” her voice is strained, her throat dry as she raises her hands in surrender. “My name’s Nora. Look, I’m just a girl—not a ganado or whatever so d-don't shoot!”

He narrows his eyes as if to make sure she's indeed who she says she is. Her American accent helps convince him she's not an infected local from Mediaconcha at least. Though he’s not really sure what a ganado is, he can guess it's the crazy people he’s been encountering since starting this mission.

“Nora,” he repeats, his voice softening slightly.

Her name rolling off his tongue makes her choke on air. This is feeling more real by the second, and the fact she can see, hear, and touch him is making her head spin.

With the firearm now somewhat lowered, Nora takes in a shaky breath of relief. “Listen, I don't know what's going on… you’re just— God, you’re so real, I don't— fuck, this is insane…” she mutters incoherently, more to herself than to him before pausing, her eyes widening suddenly. “Oh my God… Am I dead?”

Leon scoffs at the question, looking around to check the premises out of habit, before turning back to her.

“If you’re dead then so am I, and we’re very much stuck in hell.”

She takes his joke way too literally in her dumbfounded state, shaking her head fervently. “No, no, you wouldn't go to hell, you’re like a— a saint.”

He frowns at her confident claim, giving her another look over that lingers on her oversized t-shirt. It’s printed with a picture of a cartoon frog in a cowboy hat with the caption ‘This is, in fact, my first rodeo.’

“You don't even know me. Why would you say that?”

It’s her turn to scoff, pushing herself up on wobbly legs as she dusts her pants. “Of course I know you… I know you more than I know myself at this point,” she mutters under her breath as she straightens up. “But yeah, I am definitely either dreaming, or hallucinating, or dead... Or you know what? Maybe I’m in a coma!”

“You are not in a coma, you’re probably just concussed. You fell out of nowhere, literally,” he looks up as he says that, looking around the foggy, light grey open sky for any hint as to where she could've possibly fallen from.

Nora looks up as well, both of them searching for something that's not there, before they tilt their heads back down and meet each other’s gaze.

Leon is a bit taken aback by the way she shamelessly traces his features with her wide, sable eyes, like she needs to burn the image of him in her brain. He’s used to female (and male) attention, but the way she's looking at him is a bit more than that.

“What?” he mutters, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Oh, s-sorry, you just… you look…” her voice trails off, unable to describe the insanity of the situation.

“Look what?” he presses.

She takes a tentative step closer, taking in every detail of him from his clothes, to his gear, to his body, to his perfect face. Leon blinks and tightens his grip on his weapon but keeps it aimed low. She doesn't look threatening, but he feels vulnerable under her bewildered gaze.

“It’s like… it’s you, but real,” she whispers, mesmerized, then her eyes drift lower. “Everything is the same, even the mole on your neck,” she points to his throat.

He swallows, making his Adam’s apple bob with the movement. She seems to recognize him when he has never even met her, and that is making him more nervous by the minute—no matter how flattering it might be to be ogled by a pretty girl.

“Do I know you, lady?”

That makes her laugh despite herself, more out of sheer disbelief from the surrealness of her surroundings than anything else. “Of course you don't, Leon, you’re not even real.”

The mention of his name has alarm bells going off in his head, and her laugh does nothing to calm him. “How the hell do you know my name?” he asks sternly, voice threatening.

Her chuckle dies down immediately, and her stare darts to his handgun once more. “Hey, uh… if you shoot me with that, would it... hurt?”

He scoffs, not appreciating what he believes is a joke when he’s already so tense all his muscles are coiled. “I don't know, do you wanna find out?”

Nora chokes on her own breath at the blatant threat, but before she can attempt to de-escalate the situation, voices resound from behind her with hurried footsteps.

“¡Por allá! ¡PERSEGUÍRLES!"

Whipping her head around, she sees the incoming cultist villagers with their frightening appearance of red, rage filled eyes and ragged clothes. They’re running right towards them, and she suddenly wishes to wake up from this nightmare because staring at Leon’s beautiful face is not worth getting ripped apart.

The sudden, booming sound of gunshots deafens her, and she instinctively shielded her ears with a startled cry. The cultist that was targeted falls to the floor with a thud as blood seeps into his clothes, before his body starts writhing like something inside him is moving it like a puppet: the plaga.

“Move!” Leon barks at her, and when noticing her petrified state, he grabs her upper arm roughly and pushes her to run ahead.

Nora attempts to run. Not much of an athletic person, she's grateful for the adrenaline pumping in her veins and her youthful legs for at least trying. She passes by a giant, 7 or so feet long sledgehammer resting on tall, spiked barricades made of wood. Something that Leon makes a joke about if she chooses to interact with it while playing the game. That most certainly is not happening this time.

Continuing down the path between the wooden fortifications made to keep strangers at bay, she passes through a lifted palisade gate, and finds herself in the stone quarry. The stone quarry with the wolves.

Leon reacts before she can properly scream, his sharp skills keeping him aware of every surrounding threat. He unslings his shotgun and shoots the infected animals before they can get close, their bodies flinging across the ground by the force with beastly whimpers.

“Keep going!” He orders her startled self, then turns around to give the three ganados that were on their tail—including the one that stood up from the dead with a twisted neck and gurgling noises—the same fatal treatment.

Only once all threats are eliminated does she dare to turn around to look at him, as she trembles by the entrance of a passage cut through the tall rock walls. She watches as his chest heaves, but not nearly as breathless as hers, while he checks and reloads his guns.

“You okay?” he asks when he faces her direction, taking in her frightened state.

“I-I think s—”

Nora’s answer is cut off by the sound of a loud, rumbling roar that has her jumping in her sneakers. The brave agent before her, however, simply frowns at the sound before dismissing it. He thinks whatever it is, it's sealed behind a colossal metal gate, and he has no time to solve that mystery.

She, on the other hand, is all too aware of the giant, overgrown monster that lies behind that door, and that Leon will unfortunately have to face later. The sheer idea of having to experience that next to him has her terrorized to her core.

Everything around her is too scary, too loud and too bloody to be a fun game anymore .She's not sure how she will survive if a part she usually breeze past with her controller has her now in a panic attack.

“We don't have time to rest,” Leon grumbles as he walks past her, clearly dissatisfied with having to haul her around while he still doesn't trust her. 

But he doesn't abandon her either, and for that she feels eternally grateful.

He walks ahead, weaving through wooden scaffolding propped up along the rocky passage, taking a glance at her past his shoulders every few steps to make sure she's still following along. Or maybe to ensure she doesn't plan on backstabbing him. Literally.

Through the stone walls, they enter a cave alcove carved into the rock, with wooden stairs that lead down to a set of big double doors. Pushing them open, they’re led into a warm-lit cavern-like room with timber decking overlooking dark, murky water.

Nora recognizes the space immediately, except for one big difference; there is no merchant stall waiting to sell weapons and health items. No hooded figure with a funny accent asking ‘what’re ya buyin’?’ No scattered barrels painted in neon yellow they can loot. Not even the elevator that’s supposed to sit in the corner and take them down to the shooting range. She's spent hours down there firing at wooden cut-outs of pirates to win tokens and use them to buy charms for Leon’s briefcase... Now that she thinks about it, he doesn't even have a briefcase. 

Slowly, she's realizing whatever version of this world she has found herself stranded in is lacking all fun gaming quirks. Which only serves to scare her even more as this new dangerous reality engulfs her whole.

“Leon… where do you get your ammo?”

He turns to her with a frown, still not used to the fact she just knows his name. “I bring it with me, it's part of the job to be prepared. Why? You interested in guns now?"

“No, I mean like… how do you have enough?”

He huffs out a dry chuckle at her question, shrugging in response, “I make’em count.”

Right, of course he does. 

He can probably headshot these monsters with a single bullet, unlike the game that makes them harder to kill the more she goes up in difficulty. The thought would be reassuring if not for the unfair trade off that is the very real risk to her life now.

Looking around the cavernous space, Leon quickly concludes there are no boats at the underground dock. So, he makes the unilateral decision to walk ahead through another gate, and expects she to simply follow behind like a lost puppy. Which she absolutely does.

The double doors swing open onto a high, rickety scaffolding platform overlooking the ominous lake. Nora still can’t quite wrap her mind around it—everything looks exactly like the game, only now she's standing in it, breathing in the damp, mineral-thick air into her lungs.

There’s a flimsy railing that she doesn't dare hold onto for support, the probable deadly drop if she does make her shiver. On the other side of the large body of water, stands a huge, medieval looking castle on mountainous rocks, its presence imposing and creepy. Even more so when she knows the horrors that happen inside it at the hands of the tiny but mighty cultist Ramón Salazar.

Taking out a pair of binoculars from his hip pouch, the agent observes the surface of the misty lake. Nora stands behind him, observing him, and drinking in every detail of her obsession comes to life. 

He watches the all too familiar scene—to her, at least—of two zealots dumping the headless corpse of a police officer in the turbid water, before cruising away like it's nothing. A second later, and the humongous lake monster, Del Lago, rises above the water level to engulf the body into its ferocious mouth, biting down with giant, jagged teeth. The brunette feels she might piss her jeans at the sight of the monstrosity, wondering if she’s built at all for surviving this hellhole. She thinks to herself probably not.

“Fuck…” Leon curses under his breath as he lowers the spy glasses and she breath catches. That very same ‘fuck’ was one she had replayed countless times, and even had saved on her phone for sinful purposes. Now, she empathises with his distressed curse.

Sighing heavily, he walks ahead on the creaking wood to begin descending the ladder that leads to a dock underneath, a motorboat attached to one of the posts. “Come on, we need to cross the lake…”

He is, unfortunately, correct. They will eventually need to traverse the lagoon to collect the statue heads necessary for the medallion key that opens the fortified church, all so they can get to poor Ashley.

Then, she remembers the step that comes before that.

“Shit, we need fuel.”

Leon, now on the lower level, looks up at her with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll check the tank first. It might have some left in it.”

“Uh, sure, you can do that if you want…” she mutters as she descends the ladder as well.

He doesn't wait for her to fully get down and quickly moves to open the boat's reservoir, confirming there is indeed no gas left in it. The fact she predicted that ticks him off a bit more, and he would normally assume it's coincidence if she didn't know his name without him telling her.

He’s trusting her less by the minute.

“Okay, I guess we do need fuel… Shit.”

Nora sees him look around, unsure of where to even find gasoline in the middle of nowhere. But she knows how the story goes, so she decides to interject. 

“We could go through that tunnel over there, and, um, check it out.”

Leon looks up at where she's pointing—a dark, cavernous passage through a rock mountain—then grunts in disapproval. “We go in there and we’ll just find more of those lunatics. There's nothing that guarantees we’ll find what we need.”

Sighing in frustration at his stubbornness, she crosses her arms defensively. “Look, if you want to get to Ashley, we’ll have to go get that fuel at some point.”

He instantly freezes at her words, then turns to look at her slowly, shooting her a glacial glare.

“How do you know about Ashley?”

Next chapter.

cw: depression, spiraling, self-loathing thoughts.

El método R.I.C.E: reposo, hielo, compresión, y elevación. 

In English: rest, ice, compression, and elevation—those were the orders given by the doctor who treated her leg. 

She repeats them in her head over and over again, but every moment or so, they get jumbled and nonsensical as sleep starts to take its hold on her.

With her head leaning against the ivory wall of the waiting room, Nora’s eyelids grow heavy as she battles slumber in her seat once again. She has fallen asleep at least six times since arriving at the hospital, and it's getting harder to resist dreamland with every passing minute.

After telling the nurses they were in a car accident, she and Luis were admitted for treatment for their injuries. Thankfully, an X-ray confirmed none of her bones were broken by the beartrap, though she did sprain her leg. For the Spaniard, however, his forearm got fissured on the radius. He later told Nora it was due to Krauser shoving him against a wall so hard he saw new colors. God, she is relieved the bastard is dead.

As she continues waiting for Luis to be discharged, his friend, Iván—who picked them up from the backwoods where Ada abandoned them—keeps her company in the meantime. He’s not much of a talker, and Nora is grateful for the silence and lack of questioning. She already had Luis lie on her behalf when she was asked for an ID by the intake nurse, saying she's his clueless American cousin. She found the lie was quite fitting. 

Looking down at her swollen, bandaged leg, she sighs and places a hand on her injured shoulder that thankfully no longer hurts too bad after that fire arrow. Her body has been pushed to the limit, of that she is sure, and as she waits in the hospital of the port city of Santander, she simply feels grateful to be alive.

After what feels like forever, the stubbled man comes out with a tired smile and a cast on his arm. His jacket is slung over his shoulder, only a tank top covering his torso post treatment. He walks over, readjusting the strap that keeps his plastered limb suspended.

“This thing's gonna drive me crazy with itching, I already know it.”

Nora chuckles, eyeing the hardened off-white bandages with sympathy. “How long do you have to keep it on?”

“Five weeks! Can you believe that, cariño?”

“Ni voy a preguntar que te paso,”** Iván comments from his seat, to which Luis just answers with a dismissive wave before turning back to the woman.

“Ready to go?”

“Oh, are you going to be billed later?” 

Luis makes an exaggerated gasp, then puts on the saddest expression he can muster. “Ay, mi pequeña Nora… We don't have to worry about that. Free healthcare, remember?” he laughs, then holds out a hand for her to take.

** “I'm not even going to ask what happened to you.”

“Welcome to my humble abode… Ah, please don't mind the mess—I haven't been here in a while.”

The lights are flicked on and Nora gets a view of Luis’s apartment. Beige tiles cover the floor throughout, an open plan with a small kitchen, and a couch facing the box TV propped on a console. On the back wall, rows of books line a floor to ceiling shelf rack, along with neatly stacked cassettes and VHS tapes at the bottom. Next to them, a silver boombox sits with thick CD binders placed beside it. The shelves and their contents are all covered in a thin layer of dust, just like everything else around from being neglected for a long while.

The place looks like a time capsule. Like something straight out of the old home videos Nora’s mother kept from when the girl was just a toddler. But of course, she knows not to react to the outdated technology with the fascination of a time traveler, and instead settles on thanking Luis for his hospitality.

An hour later, she steps out of the bathroom after a warm shower, a towel wrapped around her damp hair and fresh bandages on her shoulder and ankle. 

She’s dressed in a borrowed black pyjama set from Luis that fits tight on her wide hips and lower stomach, so she keeps nervously readjusting the top for coverage as she comes to stand in the kitchen. The apartment is no longer dark thanks to the shutters being lifted, now brightened by the gloomy light from the autumn sky.

“I found some food in the freezer—croquetas de pollo,” the Spaniard shakes a red box branded ‘La Cocinera’ from behind the counter. “You must be starving. I know I am.”

“Yeah, I am too,” she smiles in gratitude.

They both sit at the small table in the corner, the mood oddly domestic as the man serves them plates and glasses of water.

“You’re not vegetarian, are you?” He chuckles as he takes a bite of the crispy chicken and cheese ball.

“No,” Nora shakes her head, stabbing the food with a fork. “I just don't really eat pork.”

Luis quirks an eyebrow. “Religion?”

“More like culture and habits,” she pauses, contemplating the question. “I don't know, my mom never cared much about religious stuff, and my dad, well… He was never around anyway.”

Her face morphs into discomfort, feeling stupid for bringing up her pitiful little backstory out of nowhere. She hates coming off as the resident sad girl whose father never loved her enough to stay, no matter how true it is.

“Ah, I see…” Luis offers a kind smile, then, sensing the awkwardness, quickly changes topics. “Well, you better eat up while it's warm. It’s not too bad for frozen food—promise.”

Nora is thankful for his understanding, and gladly eats the kindly prepared meal with a fluttering heart.

“Do you like your pillows soft or hard?” Luis asks from his bedroom, leaving Nora sitting on the sofa.

“Uh… Either is fine,” she chuckles.

“Don't laugh, it's an honest question!”

“I didn't say it wasn't!”

A moment later he appears with two pillows hugged against his body with his non-plastared arm. “I’m trying to be a good host here.”

Nora snickers again, thanking him for his efforts. She tests each cushion he brought with a press of her hand before settling on the firmer option.

“See? You do have a preference,” he remarks. 

Luis watches her make herself comfortable, though there is an evident shyness in her demeanor from impromptu sleeping at a stranger's home. He’s happy he was able to gain her trust in such little time, but it also makes him worried. He knows she must not have much support if he is her best option.

Questions swirl in his mind about her story, how she ended up on a camping trip with a mysterious friend who she never mentioned again. He’s beginning to doubt her statements more and more, but he knows that now is not the time to ask questions. Not when they're both on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.

With a final smile, he gestures towards his bedroom door. “I’ll be right there, so if you need something just knock, eh?”

“Okay. Thanks again, Luis. For everything.”

“Ah, don’t mention it,” he waves a hand, then turns to leave with a yawn. “Buenas noches, guapa… Or should I say buenas tardes since it’s still afternoon? Ah, either way—sweet dreams!”

Smiling at his antics, Nora sighs as she covers herself with the blanket. “Dulces sueños,” she murmurs.

The door clicks shut, and she hears the unmistakable sound of the lock turning. It doesn't surprise her—she is a stranger after all, but she can't help but feel her heart tighten as the weight of the entire situation settles down on her again. Like a heavy boulder on her chest, she is reminded once more of how stuck she is in a hopeless state. At least Luis’s help gives her something to hold onto for now.

Reaching into her pyjama pocket, she pulls out the set of house keys with the chibi keychain that almost exposed her secret in front of Ashley. Holding it in her palm, she examines the object with renewed interest. She remembers ordering it online after finding it particularly cute—something her boyfriend later mocked her for because she was 'spending money on useless shit’ per his opinion. Of course, his collection of sneakers did not get the same judgement. His purchases were always justifiable.

Tightening her grasp on the keychain, she exhales sharply from her nose, before standing up and making her way to the window. From there, she watches the street of comings and goings, people living their lives without the worries of world traveling and video game spawning.

Sliding the screen open, Nora feels the cool breeze hit her skin as she rests the hand clutching the keychain on the sill. If she aims far enough, it might land on the road that's two floors below and hopefully get run over by a speeding car—a good way to get rid of it.

After all, this one item might expose everything to Luis, and then she will be truly alone when he also hates her like the man whose belt marked her ass does. She can still feel his lashes whenever she sits, the dull soreness making itself known every time just to serve as a reminder of what was done to her.

When she had checked earlier in the bathroom, she saw the red welts that were starting to form into bruises. Those marks, along with the keyring in her hand, are some of the only pieces of evidence of her past. Of the truth. One will heal with time, and the other will be discarded to never be seen again. That is how she survives this world.

Her arm reels back, ready to throw the keys and land them on the road, or a manhole, or even on some poor old ladies head. No matter, she must throw them. She must get rid of the object tethering her back to her reality.

Except, she can't.

Throwing it away feels like a cowering move in a place that has shown her nothing but pain. She was punished for knowing the truth, and by getting rid of the keychain, as small and trivial as it might be, she's ridding herself of any proof that she's not insane.

Lowering her arm back down, she peers at the smiling drawing of Luis, his tiny figure smirking playfully. Then, she turns it, and it's Leon’s grumpy face that comes into view. So small. So insignificant. Just like he made her feel bent over his lap.

With a sigh, she shoves the item back in her pocket, already thinking of an adequate hiding spot for it, before she reaches for the window crank dangling on the wall. She twists it, cringing at the loud noise it makes as the roller shutters lower with every bout of effort from her arms. It reminds her of her vacations to France when she was a kid. The sound used to always wake her from deep slumber when her grandmother, mamie, would let the sunlight in at the crack dawn.

The living room plunges into darkness, and when she approaches the couch, she yanks one of the bottom cushions upwards then scrabbles for the zipper of its cover. Sliding it open, she drops the keys there between the layers of fabric, then closes it again with a hiss. Unless Luis plans on doing any spring cleaning, this should be a fine place to keep it.

Nora settles back on the couch once the cushion is put back in place, and, as she pulls the blanket, she can already tell she will be sleeping for a long, long time before her body regains strength.

After drifting off at nearly 3 p.m., Nora expected to wake in the middle of the night in a serious case of a messed up sleep schedule. She underestimated her exhaustion, however, because when she finally flutters her eyelids open, the clock on the shelf reads 10:17 a.m.

Almost nineteen hours of sleep. It was not the most peaceful of slumbers, her rest fractured by nightmares she can’t remember anymore, yet still, she couldn't believe it. Then again, the most brutal night of her life happened right after she had come back already exhausted from work. Not to mention her injuries and emotional distress. 

As she sits up, rubbing her eyes sleepily, she hears the bathroom door open with Luis stepping out as quietly as he can. When he notices she's awake, however, he smiles softly.

“Buenos días, cariño… Slept well?”

“Morning,” she murmurs timidly, feeling suddenly self-conscious about her bed hair and puffy face. “Yeah, I did.”

“Now that you’re up, we can go get some breakfast, eh? I need to buy some groceries anyway.” 

“Alright, thank you,” she smiles as she stands to enter the bathroom.

A moment later, she's standing at the sink, watching her reflection in the small mirror. Swollen eye bags, a faint graze along her jaw, and a constant look of dread in her pupils—it feels dissonant. She can recognize her face, and yet standing in a parallel universe still feels like a dream.

Before going to sleep, she had hoped that maybe she would wake up back home, that maybe rest was all she needed to fix everything. But of course, she was wrong. Yet again, her hope gets crushed a little more with every passing hour where she has no idea what to do.

A knock at the door calls her attention, and she creaks it open to find Luis holding what looks like a folded tracksuit. 

“No puedes salir en pijama,”** he snorts.

** “You can't go out in pyjamas.”

The streets of Santander are somewhat quiet on what Luis dubs a ‘boring Tuesday morning’. His building is located in the city center, with shops and restaurants lining the roads and people walking with determined steps to reach their destinations. 

When Nora left her world, the month had been November, and during her visit at the hospital, she came to learn the time in this place is set exactly twenty years earlier.

If her calculations are correct through the fog of long sleep and inter-universal travel, it should be November 16th 2004. The thought is only confirmed by the dated cars, the older style of clothes, and the overwhelming lack of smartphones everywhere.

It's still odd to her, and she's not sure she will ever get used to the fact she plainly time traveled, but for now, she walks beside the Spaniard along the streets of the port city with a calm breath. Thankfully, the weather is not too cold for the outfit Luis has lent her. She feels ridiculous, of course, tracksuits of this style aren't something she's used to wearing, but it beats dressing in her ruined frog t-shirt with a torn sleeve and stains of God knows what.

“Real Racing Club?” She reads the logo on the right breast of the navy, green, and white jacket. The round symbol has a waving flag in the middle, with a royal crown at the top.

“Racing de Santander, it's the local football club,” Luis grins when he shoots her a glance. “Or I guess you would call it soccer.”

“Ah, so you're a sports fan,” she concludes as they cross a narrow park that splits the boulevard into two one way streets.

“I just like the local team. That jacket is a bit old, though. I bought it in 97’ when I came back home after I had left for a while...”

His expression turns suddenly solemn, and Nora has an inkling on the reason, but she stays quiet as she has come to wisely learn. 

Luis’s story is a tragic one, that she knows. Though she does not remember all of the details, she recalls he lost his grandfather as a kid, and then left to pursue research in biology. That must be when Umbrella hired him, where his remarkably prodigious knowledge was used to create bioweapons, including the infamous Nemesis.

He later came back when he no longer wanted to contribute to the company’s unethical work, only to then find his village under the influence of Los Illuminados.

“Well, it's a snazzy jacket,” Nora smiles in an effort to lift his mood.

He chuckles, nodding in approval, “the colors look good on you.”

Breakfast at a cafetería consisted of Spanish tortilla and sobao pasiego—a sponge cake that pairs well with coffee. After that, the pair went to Lupa, a grocery store only three blocks away from Luis’s building. Nora understands more and more the lack of need for a car—everything is close by.

“So, you said you don't have a phone, right?” the man inquires in the middle of picking oranges.

Despite his kind, easygoing demeanor, Nora knows he has many questions he wants to inevitably ask. It's only fair to wonder why she never attempted to phone a relative, or make any attempt to contact anyone at all.

“No phone… I, um, don't really have anyone to call even if I did have one,” she replies quietly, her voice laced with shame. “And I understand if my stay is causing you trouble, I can leave anytime you want of course—”

“That’s not why I’m asking, cariño,” Luis cuts her off with a sigh. 

Letting go of the produce in his hand, he readjusts the jacket he’s wearing half draped over his shoulder, forced to keep his plastered left arm out of the sleeve. He then meets her eyes with an intense look she has never seen on him before.

“I want to help you, I really do. But for that to happen I need to know the truth.” He pauses, looking around for any watchful eyes, before leaning closer to whisper. “You’re here illegally… Aren’t you?”

Her eyes widen at the blunt question, unsure of how to answer. “I… um…”

At hearing her stammered response, Luis pats her shoulder reassuringly. “You never mentioned looking for your passport even once—it had me thinking.”

“Yeah, sorry…” She takes a moment to think of a valid reason that isn't world travel, before settling on a semi plausible explanation. “I have some trouble with, um, the law… I just can't really go anywhere right now. Home is not an option.”

She pauses, eyeing his reaction, but he gives her none, his dark eyes calculating as her words sink in. So, she continues.

“But I can promise you one thing: no one will come look for me—I swear it,” she asserts firmly. “As long as I don't cause problems, I pretty much don't exist on any official records.”

She does not exist at all, she thinks to herself bitterly.

Waiting for his response with a held breath, she worries he might ask further questions or chastise her for being an alleged criminal. But his response is anything but.

“Vale, gracias por decírmelo,” he nods, his brown eyes warm as they bore into hers. “We’ll keep you out of trouble until we find a solution, then. ¿De acuerdo?”

Nora beams despite herself, her heart feeling full from the man’s kind support. “Okay, thank you... Like seriously.”

His expression morphs from concerned to something lighter as he attempts to lift her mood, his easygoing nature taking over again.

“You know, cariño, you and I have more in common than you'd think. There's a reason I told the nurse we're cousins—mis abuelos emigraron de Argelia,”** he smiles, giving her shoulder a squeeze before letting go. “In other words, I’m North African too on my mother’s side. Pretty neat, eh?”

“That’s so cool!” she gasps in excitement before chuckling, “maybe we really are cousins?”

“Maybe,” Luis laughs.

** “My grandparents immigrated from Algeria.”

Over the next couple of days, Nora and Luis fall into an easy routine. With both of them sporting injured limbs, they help each other as much as they can with chores around the apartment, especially her as she does her best to not burden him with her stay. 

He also takes her out for short walks to familiarize herself with the neighborhood whenever possible. He even takes her shopping for clothes at a local mercadillo, picking up a couple of sweaters, a pair of jeans, and a parka appropriate for cold weather. 

“Ese color te sienta bien,” the Spaniard nods as she tries on the coat. “How’s the fit?”

“It's good! And yeah, I like the color too,” she smiles as she smooths a hand over the burgundy fabric. “It's not too expensive, is it?”

“Nothing is too expensive at the flea market, guapa. Don't worry about it.”

“If there's anything I can do to pay you back, like doing more cooking or cleaning, please let me know.”

Luis huffs, a puff of condensation leaving his lips as his warm breath meets the cold air. “How many times have I told you? You’re doing more than enough by making dinner every night. It's already much better than when I was alone.”

“Yeah, but… you’re jobless now.”

He chokes on a laugh, placing a palm on his chest in mock offense. “Dios mio, Nora, that was harsh.”

She giggles, zipping up the parka while he pulls out his wallet to pay the vendor. “Sorry,” she teases, “I’m just saying it how it is.”

“Vale, vale… I’m starting the job hunt soon anyway,” he grumbles, muttering a small ‘gracias’ to the seller before ushering Nora to move along.

“Really?” her eyes widen in joyful surprise. “Luis, that's great! I mean, it's also scary as shit—trust me, I’d know—but it's exciting!”

He turns to look at her, a sad smile etching his face. “I know, I’ll just have to find something a lot more… modest, let's say. No big labs to conduct innovative research. At least not for a while.”

“Yeah, you would want to remain under the radar,” she nods in understanding. “I’m sorry you don't get to do what you're passionate about anymore, but I believe in you. You’re a prodigy, you’ll definitely figure it out eventually.”

He arches an eyebrow, an unreadable expression painting his features. “Prodigy?”

Nora curses herself for saying too much, but keeps her voice steady when she answers with a smile.

“Well, you are one to me.”

Luis chuckles, his posture seemingly relaxing as he nudges her elbow with his. “I think you might be a little biased, but you know what? I’ll take the compliment.”

Early morning comes and paints the 2000 year-old city in streaks of pinkish gold. The light filters through the open shutters in the Spaniard’s apartment, the smell of coffee filling the air.

He stands before the hallway mirror, readjusting his tie for the umpteenth time, the sling of his arm cast digging into the fabric of his button up.

“Esta escayola es ridícula,”** he mutters under his breath as he eyes his plastered limb in annoyance. “It ruins every outfit!”

“You look fine. Stop worrying about it, you look handsome, I promise!” Nora reassures from behind the kitchen counter.

She woke up purposely early to make him breakfast as a gesture of support for the start of his job search. With printed copies of his resume, he says he will try to contact local labs and some old acquaintances in hopes for an opportunity.

“Handsome…” he grumbles, running a hand through his wavy hair before a playful smirk paints his features. “I guess I still don't look too bad, eh?”

She giggles, gesturing for him to come sit at the table. “Vamos, papi, food is ready.”

“Papi?” he laughs in surprise. “A week in Spain and you're already talking like a native.”

“Well, with all the pet names you have for me, I think it's my turn to give you one too.”

Settling in his chair, Luis eyes her in fondness, feeling a warm sensation bloom in his heart. “I’m not complaining, guapa,” he smiles, happily picking up his butter knife to dig in.

As they eat, he makes sure to compliment the food, even if it's just simple Spanish tostadas. Still, he appreciates her efforts, especially as he witnessed how much she tries to give back for his hosting.

It hasn't escaped his attention the way she seems to be mentally struggling, though. Many times, Nora sits in the bathroom for longer than necessary, then comes out with red rimmed eyes and a sniffling nose. Despite the smile she offers him while pretending to be okay, he knows—he can see the look of despair in her gaze.

Luis is all too familiar with faking being alright, his previous job positions having left him ridden with guilt and depression that he does not like to show. He doesn’t believe someone like him deserves to be sympathized with after the suffering his creations undoubtedly caused and will continue to generate. 

Nonetheless, Nora’s company has brought him joy over the past days, and he’s feeling himself growing more attached by the second. But, he focuses on keeping his feelings platonic—he won't take advantage of a girl who is at his total mercy.

“Alright, off I go now,” he sighs once his plate is emptied. 

She watches him stand, a look of nervousness in his eyes no matter how much he tries to hide it. “Hey,” she puts on a determined face. “You’re gonna kick ass, okay? ¡Tú puedes!”***

Luis laughs, reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Gracias, cariño. Te veo luego. Stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Ah, right, that will be so hard between eating countless bowls of cereal and watching Los Serranos,” she playfully rolls her eyes.

The stubbled man shakes his with a chuckle, shooting one last glance her way before stepping out the door. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

** “This cast is ridiculous.”

*** "You can do it!"

Just as planned, Nora spends her day in front of Spanish TV, switching channels with a bored expression, her legs elevated on the armrest. She misses watching whatever she wants on YouTube or streaming platforms, but she's grateful for the company the black box provides nonetheless.

It’s hard without Luis sitting beside her to tell her a joke or teach her about Cantabria’s long history. He always tries to keep her mind off things, and she knows he can tell that she's not doing the best, mentally speaking. 

Her depression feels like it's at its worst. Every morning that she wakes up still in this foreign world causes a lump to form in her throat. She fears she is slowly losing her hold on her origins with everyday that goes by without a change. 

She's not even sure what she is supposed to do to go back. After all, all she did to spawn here was play her favorite game. She did not use a world-travel machine, nor did she recite some kind of magical incantation. No, she simply held her controller and found herself falling from the sky and right on top of Leon Kennedy.

Leon, his name reverberates in her skull. His face, his voice, and his eyes haunt her thoughts every single day. There is not an hour that goes by when she does not think of him, of what he did to her, and what it did to her broken heart. 

Nora always had difficulty loving herself. She, like many children of nasty divorce, blamed herself for being the cause of her parents’ separation. Especially when her mother keeps repeating that her father used to be a good man—at some point before her earliest memories, apparently. 

As a child, all that meant to her was that her dad regretted her birth and that he decided to leave, abandoning her and her broken mom to fend for themselves. It was not easy, in a foreign country with no near relatives, and even more so with her mother’s own mental struggles that often rendered her impossible to live with.

As a result, insecurity has become a second nature for Nora. She doubts every one of her moves, unsure whether she's too much or not enough. Her grades suffered, which earned her her mother’s disapproval, but the latter never stepped in to help either. It was only years later that the girl figured out her ADHD was probably what made everyday tasks so much harder for her compared to her peers.

Still, no matter her general depressive tendencies and intense low self-esteem, she has never reached a point where she has felt as bad about herself as she currently feels. But then again, she should not have expected better.

How unlikable must someone be to drive a person like Leon Kennedy to brutalize them? He must have found her so annoying with her incessant talking and clumsiness, it was only a matter of time before he showed his true feelings towards her. He hates her, naturally, just like her father, and her boyfriend, and that boy, Max from seventh grade, who said he’d rather kiss her prettier friend during Spin The Bottle.

Men have never liked her, women barely tolerate her, and she is certain every person she meets eventually comes to despise her when they get to know her well enough. 

Annoying, stupid, cringey, too much, and so unbelievably ugly. That is what Leon saw. That is what everyone eventually sees, even the kind ones like Luis. Leon was just the one to figure it out quickly enough, and the things she said to him were the last straw to punish her for being so… her.

Tears bead at her eyelashes yet again as she tries and fails to ward off the evil thoughts swirling in her mind. Logically, she knows she did not do anything that truly warranted that kind of violence, and that he is in fact at fault. But depression does not function with logic, it simply feeds on her complexes, traumas, and makes them cut deeper, gnawing at her insides until she's left hollow.

She turns off the TV, suddenly feeling overstimulated from its chatter. Out of nowhere, everything feels like it's too much on her skin. The feel of the cheap leggings and tshirt Luis bought her from the grocery store, the brand new cotton panties that dig into her hip because he could not find her size, the bandage on her ankle that she has had to maintain for over a week. It all serves to make her nauseous, like her own body is caving in on itself.

Standing up abruptly, she yanks off her bandages, letting them fall in ribbons on the floor without a care, before she strides to the bathroom with a shaky breath. There, she pulls down her pants and underwear, chucking the latter into the laundry hamper with force, and sighing in relief when the sensory nightmare ends. 

Lastly, she steps back into her leggings commando—fuck it, it beats elastic indents on her ass—then reaches to turn on the faucet. A splash of water to the face, and her pounding heart begins to calm, the coolness relaxing her fraying emotions.

Only once she has repeatedly inhaled and exhaled deeply that she finally leaves the bathroom, the ball in her throat having somewhat subsided. She’s proud of herself for not completely breaking down—something she has done many times whenever Luis is not looking. No, she can learn to get a hold of herself. That evil voice in her head will not get the best of her, even if all she wants to do is fall limp on the floor like a stringless puppet.

Her bare feet thump on the cold tile as she steps into the hallway with a deep breath, ready to start dinner preparations for her host who must be returning soon as it’s already late afternoon. She can already envision his smile at the sight of his favorite meal waiting on the counter, and the image soothes her further.

On her way to the kitchen, her eyes dart to the tall mirror in the corner, and every cell in her body suddenly gets jolted in electricity like a lightning strike has befallen her from the skies.

There, in the reflection, familiar blue eyes watch her intensely from the shadows of the apartment, and when she slowly turns with a choked breath, limbs trembling in fear, she sees him.

He’s standing there, at the end of the hallway, with dark undereyes and balled fists, his jaw locked and his chest heaving. He does not try to hide, or look away. Instead, he holds her gaze, a single word falling from his lips that feels like the suction of a vacuum swallowing all air from her lungs.

“Nora,” Leon murmurs.

Next chapter.

funfact: luis and carlos's face models are both of north african descent and it pleases me greatly ✨

AND I'M STILL NOT OVER THAT FANART

cw: self-loathing, traumatic childhood, mentions of physical abuse

November 15th, 2:23 p.m., Naval Station Rota, Spain. 

Six hours since the mission.

Buzzing lights. Humid air. Damp strands. 

Leon stands in the middle of the room he was awarded at the base once he delivered Ashley. After going through decon, as well as the initial verbal report, he was allowed to rest once he showered and given a meal that he scarfed down faster than he realized.

He was surprised to be able to stomach food with the constant nausea simmering inside his guts. But he was so hungry his instincts took over when the plate of chicken parm appeared before him, queasiness be damned. Now that he's clean, full, and his wounds have been dressed, all that is left for him to do is relax. 

If only it were so easy.

Flicking off the overhead lights, he kicks his new boots off one by one, then lays down on the creaking bunk with his fingers interlaced on his chest. Dressed in a soft cotton shirt and comfortable cargo pants, he should be able to pass out in no time with the curtains drawn, plunging the room in a dim atmosphere. 

But as soon as he closes his eyes, the day’s previous events play like a video compilation from hell. His brain showcases the 'highlights’ of the mission, with an emphasis on a particular brunette and her screams in his ears. 

It’s suffocating. His breathing is slow and deep, and yet he feels like he's constantly lacking oxygen. Every breath feels like betrayal, like he's not supposed to be here safe and sound after all that he’s done. The hurt, the ruthlessness, the cruelty—he should be held behind bars right now instead of being hailed like a hero.

A hero.

He remembers how much that word triggered him. It felt like an insult then, but even more so now. He has never felt like a bigger fraud than he does at the moment. Not even when he joined military training as a young, traumatized rookie, surrounded by jaded soldiers who saw him as nothing more than a lucky bastard who happened to be at the right place, at the right time.

They're not wrong, of course. He was never anything special—that's what he was repeatedly told by his own parents. Not when his grades fell at school, or when he got into trouble at recess, but rather when he didn't hide contraband well enough when cops came to search the family home.

He remembers his father being particularly brutal with the belt the night he came back after three months in prison. He hit him mercilessly then, but it wasn't the first nor the last. He would strike him all over—his back, his arms, his legs—it didn't matter where the lashes landed, as long as they did. And then, he’d do the same to his mother for ‘not raising the brat well.’ Except, with her, it was always on her behind, like he’s correcting a child the old fashioned way. His father loved to humiliate the woman at any given chance.

Still, that didn't prompt her to grow much sympathy for the kid who suffered just as much if not more. If anything, she'd often put the blame on him for things he didn't do, or make him lie on her behalf to hide her affairs. Then she'd watch with a disappointed look when the man punished him for things he never did. That's why he stopped feeling bad for her when she'd get caught ‘in need of a lesson’ as his father would say—there was no escaping from the wrath of his belt no matter how much she begged.

The only difference is that Leon would never stick around to watch. He preferred locking himself in his room with his palms over his ears until it stopped. And when it did, it was somehow worse, because then he’d hear rhythmic creaking in the adjacent room coupled with high pitched noises. At first he didn't know what it was, but later he understood it as his parents ‘making up.’ That’s also around the time Metallica became his favorite band—more so for the loud music that didn't leave room for any other sound than for anything else.

He now understands his parents fucked him up more than he’d realized. He always knew the result of his father’s violence and his mother’s hypocrisy had made him into a mess of a man. But this… This is so much more terrifying. 

The cruelty he's capable of is not surprising. Directing it at an innocent woman, however, is mind shattering. Especially when a weird feeling of want interlaces with guilt each time he recalls the event. He can't get it out of his head no matter what. The feel of her writhing in agony on his lap, the smoothness of worn leather, the rippling of tender skin, the glossiness on teary brown eyes—it's like a nightmare painted by a sick, sick artist.

Him. He’s the sick artist. The instigator of her pain and architect of her suffering. He just hates that no matter the gut wrenching sickness filling him at the memory, he still thinks she looked beautiful during that bloodcurdling moment. 

He doesn't understand. 

Since when has he lost all humanity that he now hurts others and finds beauty in it? He was never supposed to turn out like his alcoholic of a sperm donor, but now he may as well be worse. Because at least the bastard was a known piece of shit—no one praised him for being a savior or a saint.

Leon opens his lids, attempts at rest feeling futile in his broken state. But then, the mental images don't stop even as he stares at the ceiling, and tears suddenly prick his eyes when everything comes crashing down on him. 

He curls into himself, pulling the crinkly sheets over his head as if afraid he might be mocked by unseen ghosts that will call out his duplicity. No killer has the right to mourn his victims, and yet he can't stop the ugly sob that escapes his lips.

He quickly slaps a hand on his mouth in retaliation, his shoulders shaking with every muffled cry that leaves his battered and bruised body. He squeezes his eyes shut again, fingers gripping his own hair to ground himself in the middle of his breakdown to no avail.

There is no escape from the berating voice in his head—her voice—as it reminds him of the magnitude of his sins.

She trusted him, she cared for him, she was a fan, and she just wanted to help keep them both safe. But in return, he humiliated her in a way that would have him seeing red if he was in her place. And for what? For revealing his world isn't real? Nothing has felt real since Raccoon City anyways. He already lives like a ghost among the living, carrying on for the sake of carrying on, in hopes that maybe if he saves enough people he’ll feel revitalized again. 

But the brutal training and punishing missions never did the trick. Hurting her, on the other hand… He hates to admit how alive he felt with every crack of his belt against her tempting flesh.

Sick, heinous, and broken. That is what he turned out to be in the end as he cries in an empty room in southern Spain, with no one to hear his muffled sobs except the cold, unfeeling walls.

November 18th, 10:15 a.m, Washington D.C, USA. 

Three days since the mission.

The agent’s smile is hollow as he shakes the president Graham’s hand, the latter patting him on the back with a grateful ‘thank you.’ Ashley beams from the side, excitedly telling her father about all the wondrous feats the man accomplished to save her. Though, to her dismay, she cannot mention anything about Luis or anyone else—Leon made her promise not to.

Later, the AUIPT’s director, Daryl Booth, grins wide as he walks Leon out of the oval office. “You did good, son. Real good. I’m sure you’ll receive a nice check after this one—probably the fattest you'll ever get… Now don't go spending it all on booze and pretty ladies, yeah?”

Booze and pretty ladies. That sure sounds like a good way to forget his sorrows, as stereotypical as it may be. But he’ll be damned if he touches a cent of that hazard pay. He intends on leaving it there to rot in his bank account until he gives it away to some good cause. Maybe an anti domestic violence association, just to rub in the irony.

“Sir, I’d like to speak to you about something if you have the time,” he mutters once they're out of earshot.

Slowing in his steps, Booth eyes him curiously with his dark eyes, before nodding. “We can meet at HQ after lunch. My one o’clock should be free.”

Time passes slowly as Leon waits in his dim office, the blind kept shut and the lights turned off. He can feel an incessant lump resting in his throat with every resounding tick of the clock on the wall. The moment it reads 12:55 p.m, he’s out of his chair and striding directly to the director’s office.

He knows he can't stall this any further—he needs to do this now while his mind is clear enough to function. Before he loses himself completely to the nightmares that have been tormenting him for the past three days, and that he knows will only get worse during his time off.

He will make things right.

Coming to a stop at the large double doors of the executive suite, the blonde’s fist hovers, hesitating for a moment, before he finally knocks. 

Booth’s response is immediate, calling out a simple ‘come on in’ for him to enter. As Leon does, he can already feel the trembling of his fists start, and he has to make a conscious effort to keep them steady, knowing that every move he might let slip will be studied by the professional before him. 

“Kennedy!” the director smiles, gesturing for him to sit. “So, what is so important that you want to talk to me rather than go home for twenty-four hours straight of sleep?”

“I will get to that later, sir,” he mutters with a polite smile. Then, he goes quiet as he settles on the comfortable chair, mentally preparing to speak out what he's here to say.

The bald man sets down his glasses, a look of intrigue on his face as he eyes him intently. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yes…” Leon pauses, darting his gaze as apprehension consumes him whole. Then with a sharp inhale, he meets Booth’s eyes head on, just to make sure his words are taken in utmost seriousness. “I’m happy I was able to complete the mission and bring Miss Graham home safely, as well as terminate the cult detaining her. Now that I have completed my duty… I would like to present my resignation.”

The director frowns deep, taken aback by the seemingly sudden decision. He doesn't answer immediately, letting the silence stretch until he huffs out a near scoff.

“Resignation? No, Kennedy… You’re burnt out,” he concludes. “You need a break, not to quit.”

Leon expected the push back—he knows he’s not someone the agency is willing to let go of easily. He offers a tight-lipped smile, trying to conceal the sarcasm that's threatening to seep into his tone.

“With all due respect, sir, I think I’m a bit past that.”

“Elaborate.”

Thankfully, he planned this ahead. He can simply provide a half-truth.

“I have fought BOWs before, sir, but they didn't talk…” he pauses for dramatic effect before he continues. “These ones… they felt human. It made me question a lot of things.”

Booth gives an imperceptible nod, as if agreeing but not fully convinced. “You had the added pressure of extracting an extremely valuable asset. That is not something that happens often, you know that.”

Instead of arguing further, the agent chooses silence. Anyone in his position should be expected to want to leave, especially after the things that happened—or the things he’s done.

“Listen, son,” the middle aged man finally speaks when he receives no response. “I won’t lie and say I know what it's like out there. These threats… they're still very new, and you are one of the few who got to familiarize with them the most—it's no regular war… But I can't let you make a rash decision mere days after such a mission.”

Silence again. He won't go around in unnecessary circles until the director says what he really has in mind. And sure enough, it was only a matter of time.

“I hope you understand that the president has expectations,” Booth mutters pointedly, his dark lips pursed sternly.

Calmly nodding, Leon keeps his poker face intact. “I understand.” He doesn't budge.

The other looks like he wants to snap, but he clearly realizes this isn't the kind of situation where he can force his way in. It’s predictable, the way he tries to convince him to stay with barely concealed defensiveness.

“You have two weeks off,” Booth puts his glasses back on and opens a random file on the desk, as if already adjourning the meeting to move on to more important tasks. “You can think it through during that time.”

Instead of preparing to leave, Leon leans back in his chair, stubbornness radiating off him in borderline insubordination.

“There isn't much else for me to think about, sir. I apologize, but I’ve made my decision.”

That was the most insincere apology he ever made. He just can't bring himself to care much for a job he was forced into to protect a little girl that was later hurt anyways. Sherry’s safety has been the sole reason for joining STRATCOM in their ultra-secret unit. One whose existence isn't made public to allow the government to deny its involvement in Raccoon City. 

And now, after gruesome missions where he has to continuously relive that nightmare—with many more to come, he is sure—he feels particularly bitter over the way he’s been changed. He can criticize his rookie self all he wants for being too naive and trusting, but one thing’s for sure; the old him would never harm an innocent soul. 

“Alright, lay it out,” Booth suddenly exclaims, throwing his hands in surrender. “What do you want? A raise? Time off? I can get you more rest between assignments.”

“Sir…” Leon sighs in exasperation.

“Kennedy, no,” the director tuts, unwilling to let go. “You know quitting isn't gonna fix it. At least go through your mandatory therapy sessions first. They’re supposed to start post recovery but we can do them earlier if it helps.”

“Sir,” the agent repeats more firmly.

Booth’s demeanor slowly morphs from stern to solemn, and he finally utters the unspoken truth that was hanging silently over their heads the entire time.

“You can't quit, Kennedy,” he murmurs, his tone almost apologetic.

And there it is. The ultimate reality of his situation. The dark eyed man does not have to explain to him why he can't resign, the threats he was given six years ago are enough to remember for a lifetime.

But Leon knew this from the start, and his goal wasn't to convince Booth, but rather to scare him enough he’s willing to negotiate. 

“Then…” he starts, feigning contemplation before making his one true demand, “I want to travel.”

“Travel?”

“I want to go back to Spain.” He doesn't blink. “For closure.”

Booth exhales sharply, rejection sitting at the tip of his tongue but he visibly swallows it down for the sake of keeping the president's new favorite agent satisfied. 

Still, just like the blonde, he also pretends to think about it first. “I don't know, Kennedy… I can't just allow you back into an AO. Especially not if you're demonstrating signs of mental… difficulties.”

Leon’s jaw twitches, but he doesn't falter. He’s ready to perform the theatrics necessary to get what he wants. 

“I’ll communicate.”

“That's not even a question,” Booth huffs. “You have to.”

“I’ll keep you updated on my whereabouts—no hiding.”

That seems to silence the man for a moment, before his curiosity gets the better of him. “Why Spain?”

The younger man’s hands clench and unclench in his lap, making an effort to keep his expression schooled. “Like I said… Closure.”

“I’m not sure I’m buying it,” the other purses his lips, suspicion oozing from his face.

“Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?” Leon lifts an eyebrow with the smallest of smiles.

Booth sighs, knowing he’s lost the argument. “I can't say you have…”

Nodding, the agent offers a plausible explanation, just to drive his cause home. “I just need to spend time in Spain where I am not being chased by chainsaw killers... I want to fix the negative associations I have with the place—let's put it that way.”

Another silent stare off, before finally, finally the long awaited concession arrives. “Fine. But you are to communicate every day—no exceptions. I want at least two meetings with local dispatched agents during your stay, as well as with a psychotherapist. And your resignation request is denied.”

With emphasis on the last word, Booth leans forward with his hands interlaced on his desk, just to make sure his next words land as strongly as intended.

“You have two weeks, Kennedy. After that, I need you back in D.C, in your office. And no more mentions of this again. Are we clear?”

The message is obvious: no one must find out about his attempt at quitting. Especially not the head of state. Leon is more than happy to keep the secret as long as he gets to be free for the next two weeks.

Well, as much freedom as a man like him is afforded anyways.

“Clear, sir,” he nods in confirmation, a concealed exhilaration blooming in his chest.

November 20th, 9:41 a.m, Santander, Spain.

Five days since the mission.

The cold Spanish air fills the agent’s lungs as he walks out of the airport, readjusting the sports cap on his head, then, with focused eyes hiding behind sunglasses he hails for a taxi. His bomber jacket hisses with every movement as he gets into the car, a single duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

He gives the driver an address, his plans having already been meticulously arranged before he even bought the plane ticket. 

It’s simple. He needs to check on her. He’s regretted letting her go from the moment she walked away with that criminal, Luis Serra, and now he will finally make things right. No man can be trusted in the company of a vulnerable girl, let alone one like the scientist who clearly has ulterior motives. He knows it, he just can't prove it yet.

Finding the man’s address was surprisingly easy when he already knew which city where to look. It took a few calls in the agent’s heavily accented Spanish, but he eventually got the building and apartment number overlooking Calle San Fernando. 

Leon’s leg bounces in the cab—he really needs to work on that—as the streets pass in a blur outside the window. Soon, he can finally do what he was meant to do from the start; watch over the girl that got stranded in this world because of him. Every day, he remembers the way she landed on top of him, knocking the air out of his lungs, and how she's been a constant in his mind ever since. 

At first, he was wary, unsure if she's a danger, though her appearance was anything but intimidating. Big eyes, sweet voice, and a soft body—he quickly started to enjoy her company despite the nonsense she kept on repeating. Except he quickly came to learn it was no nonsense at all. She knew him, intimately, and he punished her for it.

Now, she's in a foreign country, with a stranger she’s barely met, and Leon was the one that allowed for that to happen. Out of guilt. Out of shame. Because he could not force her to come with him when she stood her ground and tensed her shoulders… He can't let that happen again.

She can hate him all she wants—she should—but he won't let that get in the way of protecting her. Because if her words are anything to go by, then she doesn't yet understand the situation she's in. He remembers her saying her world is devoid of monsters and sentient bioweapons, so how can she be trusted to have good judgment when it comes to the people that have made these weapons?

He knows this type. Crazed scientists and greedy organizations. They’re cruel and hold no regard for human life, and that Serra motherfucker is no different. Leon did more research on him, and it turns out there's rumors linking him to the creation of the Nemesis, one of the deadliest creatures manufactured by Umbrella. As if his work with Los Illuminados wasn't enough.

The only reason he didn't snitch on the bastard yet is because he doesn't want to scare her. He first needs to assess the situation and convince her to come with him. Only then will he blow the whistle on the Spaniard for his involvement with the cult. He won't get away scot-free like he did with his previous employment.

The taxi stops once it reaches its destination, with the agent handing the driver a bill and stepping out onto the sidewalk. He looks up at the building before him, an old motel that he wouldn't stay in if not for necessity. It just so happens to be in the perfect location.

As if to make sure, he turns around and faces the opposite row of buildings on the other side of the road, and sure enough, there stands the apartment complex where the biologist resides. This is perfect. The idiot just happens to live right across a bed-and-breakfast.

Without wasting time, he makes his way inside to quickly check in, keeping his movements steady even as he feels a burst of anticipation. The moment he's in the room, his eyes survey the place to ensure it's adequate for the long hours he intends to spend in it.

Two twin beds, an ugly rug, and a tiny tv—nothing ground-breaking. But he's more interested in the large window than anything else as he sets his duffel bag down on the chair in the corner.

He pulls aside the blinds, scanning the view of the large two-way street separated by a park in the middle. Right across, he can see the windows of the second level, matching the address he has now memorized by heart. 

Of course, he’s not surprised to see the reflective glass that prevents onlookers from spying—a common feature in European construction. But it does not discourage him. He's content enough observing the building’s entrance for comings and goings for now.

Satisfied with his location, he walks back to his bag to pull out gear—binoculars, and a notepad—before taking the chair and placing it right in front of the window. He sits, his back straight like he's on watch during a critical operation, and brings the spyglasses up to his eyes without hesitation.

Then, he waits. For this, he has all the time in the world.

November 21th, 6:53 p.m, Santander, Spain.

Six days since the mission.

Leon has never considered himself to be particularly impatient, but fuck, he’s been watching that damn building for over twenty-four hours, and there hasn't been a single sight of her yet.

He did see Luis. The fucker comes out to smoke every chance he gets, leaning on the wall and flicking his light in the picture of nonchalance. 

Just what the hell is he doing to her in there?

Surely, she should have come out by now. He knows her leg is injured, but he knows it wasn't bad enough to be broken, so she should still be walking like the last time he saw her. A grocery trip, a coffee run, a fucking walk to breathe some damn air—anything to get her out of the apartment. But no, the only one that makes an appearance again and again, is the Spaniard with his cocky stride.   

He must think he’s got it all figured out. Did heinous crimes and got away with them, just to now play house with a pretty girl too naive to realize his intentions. Fuck, what the agent wouldn't give to be in his place. Just to get her to look at him like a person again rather than a monster.

For all Leon knows, she might not even be alive in there anymore. Men are capable of the unspeakable—he would know. Though, he doesn't let the panic settle once he reminds himself of the two bocadillos the Spaniard brought upstairs hours prior. She must be alive enough to eat.

His spiralling thoughts are suddenly interrupted when his cell rings, answering the call without even checking the name.

“Hunnigan,” he mutters with boredom.

“Agent Kennedy, I’m calling for your daily checkup… How is your vacation going?”

From her tone alone, he can tell she is not alone in this call. Ingrid may be professional, but he considers her a friend, and he knows she wouldn't sound so courteous if she wasn't being watched.

Ah, Dylan Booth.

“I’m still recuperating,” Leon sighs, never lowering the binoculars as he speaks. “Haven't done much sightseeing yet.”

“It’s good that you’re resting… May I just verify; your location is unchanged since our last communication, correct?”

“Yep,” he pops the ‘p’ in barely concealed irritation. “Still in Santander. Still in my motel. I’m sure you can trace my call and double check.”

A silence stretches for a moment, and he picks up on hushed murmurs, as if the voices are debating doing exactly what he just suggested. After a minute, Hunnigan finally speaks again.

“There's no need for that, thank you, Kennedy. I will call you back tomorrow. Have a good one.”

“Take care, Ingrid.”

Shoving the phone back in his pocket, he holds the field glasses with both hands as he exhales sharply through his nose. It’s ridiculous, having to provide daily confirmations that he isn't a mad agent going rogue, as Booth undoubtedly fears. He hopes that for now, as he continues giving them what they want with transparency, they won't come looking for him. So long as he's being a good pup, they won't have to tighten the leash.

Movement catches his attention through the magnified view before him, and he spots Luis returning home after a short trip. In his hands, a transparent plastic bag that Leon focuses on, squinting in concentration to make out its contents.

He notices a box of menstrual pads, their branding unmistakable, and fuck, if that's not confirmation that she's in there. It irritates him to no end that the Spaniard is probably pretending to be sweet and caring, buying her things and hosting her like some kind of perfect gentleman. What a fucking joke.

The man in question pauses in his steps, leaning back against the wall for yet another cigarette break that has the agent rolling his eyes in pure contempt. He can't believe the guy. 

Standing in his usual spot, Luis appears to be searching for the pack of smokes in the plastic bag, rummaging with a frown when he can't find it fast. He begins taking items out and tucking them under his arm for a better reach, and that's when Leon’s heart stutters in his chest at the sight of bright pink panties.

He bought her panties. 

The pervert bought her underwear like some kind of creep. Why the hell didn’t he get her to come with him to pick them herself? He must've wanted to choose which ones she wears, and he settled on pink because he's a freak.

Leon has to do everything he can to stay calm, keeping his eyes trained on the bag’s contents, internally praying he won't see anything worse like lingerie, or God forbid condoms. His nerves stay on edge until the Spaniard finishes, stubbing out the cigarette on a nearby bin before discarding it.

He enters the building, not a single clue of the ice blues watching him like a hawk. It’s becoming harder and harder to stay hiding in the shadows.

November 22nd, 3:17 p.m, Santander, Spain.

Seven days since the mission.

Leon is feeling himself steadily lose it with every passing hour where the Spaniard doesn't return. He has left her in there, alone, the entire fucking day after leaving in the early morning in a suit, and the agent doesn't know what to do anymore.

Luis should know that she isn't in the right headspace to be left to her own devices, it's so incredibly obvious, the agent is in disbelief. How is she meant to cope by herself? After her entire life was turned upside down, she was hurt by his very own monstrous hands, and is now abandoned all alone with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company.

She is fragile no matter her strength, he knows that. Because whenever he puts himself in her place, he wonders how she didn't attempt to stab him in the dick the moment she was able to. The pain and humiliation he inflicted on her are simply too much to carry all by herself.

He checks the notepad with timed entries and exits. Checks the time, again and again, until he can't do it anymore and he chucks away the binoculars that by now make his head hurt. It doesn't help that has barely slept or eaten anything since entering this motel, his diet consisting of vending machine snacks and endless cups of instant coffee. 

The good thing, however, is he hasn't bought alcohol yet. Not when he's supposed to be sober and focused on his mission. But the problem is he feels less clearheaded by the minute, like the adrenaline of stalking—he’ll at least call it what it is—is making his senses dull. 

Maybe he should go check on her. 

No, that would be incredibly stupid, and undo every effort he has put in to regain her trust since the belt. If he wants to convince her to come with him, he has to do things the right way. Leave her a note, and ask her to meet him somewhere public and safe so she knows he has no ill intentions. From there he can talk to her, explain why she would be safer with him, and why he will never lay his hands on her again.

God, even in his head it sounds absolutely moronic. Why would she ever trust him again after what he did? He doesn't even deserve to be in the same room as her, let alone gain her confidence.

But then he thinks of Luis again. The man that has become synonymous with splitting migraines. He gets to see her, talk to her, possibly touch her, and that makes Leon so green with envy, he feels nausea twist in his gut from the venomous feeling.

She's not safe with him. Even if he doesn't do anything bad to her, one day the ghosts from his past will come knocking at his door, and then what? She will be left with nothing—no one to fend for her, no one to house her. Or worse, she could be taken by some kind of organization, or even the government, and then God knows what they will do to her once they find out where she's from.

Leon had to witness in silence as they broke their promise to protect Sherry, a poor, orphaned little girl. He can't even imagine what they would do to an undocumented young woman of her background. They will see her as an alien and treat her worse than a lab rat—the thought makes his blood run cold.

He needs to get to her first. If he can just talk to her, he’ll arrange for something—an alias, a passport, a hideout. Anything to keep her safe. He can keep her safe. He can fix things. If he can just talk to her, he can make it right.

He stands before he knows it.

The satisfying click of the lockpick in his hands rings in the agent's ears. The Spanish bastard really ought to invest in better security if he intends on keeping wrongdoers at bay. 

Leon looks left and right, dressed in a simple navy t-shirt and his black cap. He pushes the door open with a silent creak, peering inside the silent, dim apartment. The television is turned off, the clock ticking on the wall quietly, no one in sight yet. The place is darkened due to the rolled down shutters, save for the thin streaks of light peering through the slates.

He closes the door quietly, then removes his hat and places it on the kitchen counter, as if needing to see better while his eyes scan his surroundings. There's nothing special about the flat—she would like his in D.C. far better, he is sure.

Pushing away the unhinged thought, he feels himself grow steadily more concerned when he doesn't see her anywhere. Until, he hears running water in the bathroom, and a sigh of relief leaves him. 

She's there. She's alive. He can probably leave now and resume his initial scheme of slowly coaxing her into a conversation, but he knows that he won't. That plan went out the window the minute he left his room. He's going to see her now and talk to her, and she will listen because he will make it clear he’s not intending on harming her again. Never, ever again.

He just needs to be calm, and if she panics, he can hold her in place and make her understand—this world is not safe for her, and he's the one best equipped to protect her. 

The bathroom door swings open as he stands at the end of the hallway, his heart thundering in his chest in anticipation, nervousness, dread, and, the one feeling he has tried to ignore the most. Yearning.

She comes out, barefoot, dressed in a white top and black leggings. So simple. So perfect. He can't see her face yet, but he can see her soft form, her long hair, and her silent walk. He feels like his chest might cave in from his labored breathing, heat coiling in his gut with every sway of her hips. It’s like he's never seen a woman before, and it's only now as he stands in the middle of a stranger’s apartment, in the midst of stalking the girl he brutalized that he truly realizes. He has officially lost it.

Her eyes catch his when she walks past the full-length mirror, her breath audibly hitching from shock. But he barely registers her terror, his entire body thrumming from the mix of excitement, relief, and deep aching at finally seeing her face again. 

She turns slowly, trembling in fear while he resists the urge to step closer. Then, when their gazes meet directly with no barrier, an entire week since they parted ways, Leon knows she could ask him to jump out the window and he would without question. The one girl who knows him. The one girl who never lied.

November 22nd, 4:48 p.m, Santander, Spain.

Seven days since Nora.

Next chapter coming soon.

are you guys ready for shit to hit the fan?

The helicopter ride amidst the rising dawn is mostly quiet once everyone settles, unsurprisingly depleted after an exhausting day of fighting for their lives. Luis explained earlier that Krauser let him live with a promise of a fate worse than death. He was held up by ganados who were transporting him back to the castle dungeons; once Saddler was defeated, they became powerless, and he was able to escape just in time.

With the hum of engines serving as white noise, the Spaniard occasionally murmurs something to Nora that makes her tiredly smile. This doesn't escape Leon’s watchful eyes, who is in turn discreetly observed by Ada. Only Ashley is seemingly oblivious to the weird tension inside the metal bird.

After a short while, the mercenary appears to receive a radio call, and her shoulders stiffen as she dismisses it. Nora can guess it has something to do with Albert Wesker, her employer, and a man with many nefarious intentions. Though she wants nothing to do with any of that mess. She has more than enough on her plate with this entire world traveling situation.

She’s not even sure what’s going to happen to her now that the mission has ended. After all, that's where the game ends too. Will she disappear back to her home if the helicopter gets far away enough from the island? Or is it a matter of time before this world crumbles around her and she's left in a void? She has no way of knowing, and that brings her to the slow realization that from now on, she can no longer predict incoming events. At least not those in the near future.

It’s still unfathomable that she's even here, but one thing's for sure, she has come to learn a lot of things about the characters she thought she knew. In a way, it makes sense. The games, movies, and whatever pieces of media this franchise has been pumping out for decades only depict mere hours in these people’s lives. In truth, she now thinks she was stupid for ever believing she knew them—or more specifically, him.

“So… Are you going back to your hotel? Finishing your nightmare-turned-vacation?” Luis pulls her out of her thoughts with a smile. “Where were you staying anyway? Before camping in the worst spot ever, that is.”

She huffs out a small laugh, but it doesn't reach her eyes as she realizes she does not know how to answer his questions. Not only because her entire backstory was a lie, but also because she truly does not know where she is supposed to go. 

She has no money, no friends, no family, no wallet—not even an identity in this world where she doesn't belong. How is she supposed to go anywhere without an I.D? A passport? A goddamn birth certificate? She can’t stay anywhere, apart from maybe some kind of homeless shelter willing to take her. And then, how is she supposed to find a job if she needs to get out? Is she meant to find somewhere willing to hire undocumented people?

Panic slowly but surely settles in Nora’s gut as Luis awaits an answer, frowning at the way her face pales. “¿Cariño, estás bien?”

She nods, but her movements are jerky and her hands are balled into fists. From the corner of her eye, she can see the cause of all her problems, Leon, observing her intently, and she shudders. Why does he keep staring at her like that nonstop? He’s been doing that since… Well, since the moment he ruined her life.

The memory makes her shift in her seat uncomfortably, the dull soreness on her ass a cruel reminder of his brutality. She just wants to go somewhere she can forget about everything that's happened. Somewhere she can be safe and far, far away from the agent. Because whether he saved the day or not, at the end, he’s still the single person who has hurt her the most, in every sense of the word.

“I’m just thirsty,” she murmurs with a dismissive hand wave as she clears her dry throat. A half-truth.

Before Luis can respond, the sloshing of liquid against metal attracts her attention when Leon unclips his canteen from his belt. He begins handing it to her, then awkwardly pauses mid-air, as if suddenly unsure if offering it is the right call. But with the eyes of the others on him, he nervously bites his bottom lip and half-stands to hand it anyways.

She looks taken aback at first, but then takes it while ignoring the brush of his fingertips against hers. Unscrewing the lid of the nearly depleted bottle, she doesn't let her thoughts linger as she brings the nozzle to her lips and drinks as much as she needs. 

Beside her, Luis silently watches the awkward interaction, and just like Ada, he notices the agent’s not-so-subtle staring. It becomes increasingly apparent to him that something is going on between Leon and Nora. What, he isn't sure, but he doubts a professional agent would act so visibly interested if it was nothing.

Once she finishes drinking, Nora simply tosses the canteen back with a muttered ‘thanks’, not sparing another glance towards the blonde. His act of kindness changes nothing to her. 

“Hey, guapa…” Luis angles himself towards her, wincing slightly as he rolls his seemingly injured arm. “You’re not worrying about a place to stay, are you?”

Nora’s eyes widen in surprise at his pointed question. It seems the stubbled man is a lot more observant than his easygoing demeanor lets on. But then again, he is a brilliant biologist—a fact she tends to forget.

“I just, um…” She steals a quick glance towards Leon who’s still not so discreetly watching her, before lowering her voice to a whisper masked by the noise of the flying engine. “I don't really know where to go… I-I kind of lost everything.”

Luis’s features soften further, giving her an empathetic nod. “You’ve been through a lot, and I’m sure it won't be easy to return to normal. But maybe you could ask the big guy over here to help you get back to the U.S? With him working for the government and all…”

If only it were that simple.

Nora knows that is not an option. She needs to keep a low profile until she somehow finds a way back home—her real home. In the meantime, she would rather stay as far away from authorities as she can. After all, a woman of her origins walking around undocumented is not exactly a welcome sight. Both in America and Spain.

“Um, actually, I would rather not… I’d prefer not to deal with, uh, governments at the moment,” she answers sincerely.

The brunette looks at her for a minute, analyzing her words. This only confirms his suspicions of some kind of undisclosed history between the two. He looks serious for a moment, before letting out a small chuckle. “You and me both, cariño.”

She laughs softly in response, knowing well how much he probably relates to the feeling. A scientist at the heart of the creation of a mind controlling parasite? No amount of deep regrets or well-written redemption arcs are going to keep him away from arrest if he’s found out.

Luis gives her a sheepish look.Then, with a vulnerability she hasn't seen in him before, he scratches the back of his neck shyly. “Escucha, Nora, puedes decir que no, pero… You could stay with me. If you have nowhere to stay, I mean.”

Nora feels her heart skip a beat at the proposition, the man before her looking like an angel without wings. For a moment, she almost says no, her habit of not wanting to inconvenience others nearly taking over. But then, she realizes that in this strange world where she's effectively alien, the Spaniard is probably the safest option for her at the moment.

“That would be so kind… Thank you, Luis, I promise I’ll try to stay for as little time as possible.”

“Hey, none of that. As they say, mi casa es su casa,” he winks playfully.

The two exchange fond smiles, a new bond created between them at the prospect of staying together. 

After that, silence returns to the confined space only interrupted by Luis flicking open and closing his lighter. Ashley has fallen asleep, while Ada keeps her eyes trained on the passing landscape. Beside her, Leon keeps forgetting to stop his leg from nervously bouncing. He feels like an idiot unable to keep his composure, which is not a good look around the mercenary that broke his heart. He’s supposed to be more in control now, calmer, wiser, yet his eyes keep darting to the girl that won't look at him.

Nora is laying her head on the window, her eyes droopy, but refusing to let them shut. He can tell she's still on guard, not letting herself relax despite being out of danger’s way. He still wonders if she will keep his ugly secret concealed or if she will expose him in front of everyone. It’s not like he would deny it—that would be the most cowardly thing he could do. No, he’s ready to face whatever consequences he deserves. He wants to pay for his mistakes at all costs. 

But as she remains silent and continues to pretend he’s not a monster, he finds himself incessantly focusing on how things will go forward. From the bit of lip reading he was able to catch of her conversation with Luis, he was able to understand she plans on going with him. Something he can't let happen under any circumstance. The man is dangerous, for Christ’s sake, and she wants to stay with him and be at his complete mercy? That's a disaster waiting to happen.

No, he has to convince her to come with him instead. He can help her thanks to his connections, provide her protection while he figures out a way to take her home. He did promise he would after all.

The chopper begins to descend once Ada makes a gesture to the pilot. Its strong wind ripples against tall pine trees when it touches down on an empty road in the middle of nowhere.

“Alright, you should be able to catch some signal here,” the woman murmurs nonchalantly. “If not, you can always walk.”

Leon huffs at the fact she's abandoning them in the sticks of rural Spain. He just hopes he can call Hunnigan to send for proper transportation. 

“Yeah, thanks a lot,” he grumbles as he unlatches his seatbelt.

Luis shakes Ashley awake as they all prepare to board off. He goes out first, but not without making a show out of kissing Ada’s hand with a muttered, ‘ciao, bella’ that makes the agent roll his eyes. Does the idiot have to flirt with everything that breathes?

The others file out, bidding their farewells and thank-yous to the aloof mercenary. As Leon is about to hop off, Ada places a hand on his arm.

“Leon,” she murmurs quietly, and he turns with a frown. 

She throws a glance at the trio waiting in the windy air, then lowers her voice just for the blonde’s ears. “It might not be my place to say… But I would hope you're careful not to get attached too quickly to people you just met.”

He stiffens, her gloved hand feeling impossibly warm on his skin. He pulls his arm away from her grasp, and stares at her for a moment with his piercing blue eyes. Underneath her tough façade, she's still the girl who refused to shoot him six years ago, and deep within, there's still something inside him that misses her. 

He stayed up countless nights recalling those few hours he spent in her company. How he followed her around like a lost puppy, how his heart skipped a beat from her kiss. He couldn't believe it then—a gorgeous, badass FBI agent being interested in his rookie self. He should've known better.

But despite the lingering feelings he holds for her and the affection he’s unable to fully let go of, he's still strong enough to stand his ground. She was here in Spain to do her shady mercenary work, and now she's giving him unwarranted advice on who he should or shouldn't get attached to. The irony speaks for itself.

“I thought you said I haven't changed. Maybe you weren’t wrong,” he mutters with a defiant shrug.

“Right,” she purses her lips, an unspoken tension passing between them.

The implication is clear—he’s yet again falling for someone way too fast; Nora. The only difference is Ada has no idea he’s the one who committed betrayal this time, and that it’s much worse than any of her attempts at stealing the G-Virus in 98’.

“Well… Looks like this is where we go our separate ways.” He gives her one last lingering look, as if preparing to close a chapter that is long overdue for a conclusion. Finally, he steps out of the aircraft, not looking back as it ascends back into the sky with a strong breeze.

“Sancho!” Luis calls out to him from where he’s leaning against a tree, absentmindedly flicking his lighter in hand. Nora and Ashley stand beside him with sleepy eyes, exhaustion apparent on their faces.

Leon comes to a stand before them, and he looks around at the desolate place. “Do you know where we are?”

“Ah… Looks familiar, but I’m not too sure. Hopefully not too far from Santander.”

“Is that where you live?” the agent quirks an eyebrow.

Luis grins, not missing an opportunity to tease him. “Why? Wanna come over? Have a nice candlelit dinner?”

Nora bites the inside of her mouth not to laugh while Ashley openly giggles, to the dismay of the blonde man who clicks his tongue in annoyance.

“I’m calling Hunnigan,” he changes the topic, stepping away to patch through.

The Spaniard reaches in his back pocket for his Nokia, pressing the number pad that makes the tiny screen light up. 

“You’ve had that this whole time?” Nora peers at the device with eyes full of wonder. 

Her smartphone would not have survived the mission without at the very least a crack on the screen. The brick in his hand, however, looks impeccable.

“Sí, but there was no signal, remember?” he answers absentmindedly. He then scrolls his contacts, until he finds what he’s looking for. “You’re still coming with me, cariño?”

“Yeah, if that’s still okay.”

“Of course it is,” he winks before bringing the phone to his ear.

Ashley, watching curiously, turns to Nora with a head tilt. “You’re going with Luis? Shouldn't you come with us? I can ask for you to be escorted safely home, and doctors can look at your leg.”

“That’s really sweet, Ash… But I’m not ready to go back to America just yet. I’ll stay here for a little longer.”

The girl frowns as she contemplates the other’s decision. “But won’t you give your account to authorities? I mean, I’m not looking forward to the load of questions they’ll have about this whole thing… But still.”

“Yeah, about that…” Nora mutters, her eyes landing on the agent ending his call a few feet away. “I’ll be right back.”

She makes her way to Leon while passing by Luis talking animatedly to who she assumes is a friend of his. At the sight of her approaching, the blonde freezes, watching her nervously as she comes to a stand.

“I…” she starts, anxiousness bubbling inside her at the prospect of what she's about to ask, but she steels herself. He can't hurt her now. Not in front of the others. “I need you to do something.”

Leon feels his heart stutter. She's asking him for help, and he’ll be damned if he doesn't give her whatever she needs. “Anything,” he answers with piercing eyes—no hesitation.

Fiddling with her fingers, she takes a shaky breath before speaking. “Can you… and, well, Ashley… not tell anyone that Luis and I were with you?”

He frowns as he senses his irritation rising. He can understand wanting to avoid attention in her case, worried what might happen to her if origins are found out. But the fact she also wants to protect the other man fills him with aggravation.

“You don't seriously plan on going with him, do you?”

Sensing the judgement in his tone, she feels her calm façade begin to crumble but tries to mask it. “What’s wrong with going with Luis?”

His name on her tongue makes his nostrils flare in a comical display of anger. He doesn't know what makes him so irrationally emotional when it comes to this woman, but it's like every moment in her presence pushes him deeper into becoming something he doesn't recognize.

Instead of badmouthing the Spaniard she has clearly grown fond of, he decides to go for a different approach. “I promised I’d take you home. And you’re injured. You can't walk to wherever he plans on taking you.”

“I think you and I both know I have no home here,” she hisses, crossing her arms defensively. “Unless you still think I’m a liar.”

“I don't—” Leon exhales through his nose, taking a moment to steady himself. “I don't think you're a liar… I think you're the single person who has been the most honest with me.”

There's a vulnerability in his eyes that makes her chest tighten despite herself. But as soon as any feeling of empathy comes, it's immediately dismissed by the grudge festering in her heart.

“Cool,” she mutters coldly and begins to turn on her heel when he suddenly steps closer.

“Listen, if you have your ID on you, I can get you a passport, a laissez-passer—something. But you can't stay in a foreign country undocumented.”

Scoffing in his face, it takes everything in her not to absolutely scream at him for his audacious hypocrisy. Who the hell does he think he is to mercilessly beat her and then turn around to offer help?  

“No, thanks,” she spits out sardonically. “You’ll be glad to know I don't have anything on me anyway. Not that it concerns you at all.”

Nora turns around, officially done with the conversation, when she suddenly feels his hand on her wrist and visibly flinches. 

Leon retreats his hold as soon as he notices, feeling his entire body thrum with shame and embarrassment. Nonetheless, he can't help but whisper, “Nora, please... Let me help you.”

She responds with a murderous glare that nearly brings him to his knees with the amount of anger and hurt swimming in her eyes. Then, she takes one step closer just to make sure her words land as viciously as she intends. 

“I thought you said you weren't a hero.”

The agent has no retort for that. He simply blinks as her comment hits like a physical blow to the gut. Everything in him is screaming at him to do something to stop her from leaving, but the guilt gnawing at his insides is paralyzing, and he finds himself unable to speak.

Suddenly, Luis appears beside Nora with a protective hand on her shoulder. His smile is somewhat strained as he gives her a reassuring squeeze. “Why the long faces? Something the matter?”

If looks could kill, the Spaniard would be six feet under. Leon doesn't even try to hide his disdain this time, his gaze lingering on the palm on the girl’s rumpled t-shirt. Still, he doesn't speak. He lets her decide what to say.

“Oh, nothing,” Nora bitterly smiles in barely concealed sarcasm. “Just thanking Mr. Kennedy here for his valiant efforts. He did save us all after all… Right?” 

“Claro,” Luis grins, but he would be a fool not to sense the tension. “Muchas gracias, amigo.”

Leon sighs, feeling a muscle twitch in his jaw. “I’ll go check on Ashley,” he mutters gruffly. He doesn't meet Nora’s eyes again as he moves to walk past her, his shoulder brushing against hers in the faintest of grazes.

“Did you call for transport?” the blonde girl asks from her sitting position on the grass when he comes to stand by her.

“Yeah, they’ll be here any minute… You alright?” he peers down at her.

She yawns, stretching her arms with a grunt. “Mhm. I just can't wait to get home.”

“Well, we’re probably not going straight back to D.C. We’ll have to go through decon and all that post-op fun stuff at some base here first. But once you’re cleared, you’ll fly back to your family right away.”

“You’ll come with me, right?” Ashley looks up at him with hopeful eyes.

“Of course… Part of the job,” he smiles politely. The girl’s expression morphs into slight disappointment.

A few feet away, Luis rummages his pockets as he looks out at the long, gravel road. “I called a friend. He should be here soon. He can take us to a hospital in the city and we can finally get some good sleep.”

Nora nods, then watches him light up a cigarette to her great dismay and exaggeratedly grimaces at the smell. “Smoking hasn't been cool since before I was even born.”

He laughs, making the effort to blow smoke in the opposite direction before turning back. “And when was that? Yesterday? It was still pretty cool in the 90s.”

She scoffs, “No, I was born in two—” Suddenly, she cuts herself off at once again realizing she was no longer in 2024. Saying she was born in 2000 would be considered yesterday—and would make her four years old. 

Quickly, she attempts some quick mental math before clearing her throat. “I was born in, um, 1980?”

Luis laughs even harder this time, his chuckle loud in the quiet rural dawn. “¿Estas segura? You didn't sound too confident just now.”

“Shut up,” she huffs with a begrudging smile, nudging his uninjured shoulder.

As has become a habit now, Leon observes them afar knowing just how much of a creep he must look like. But he doesn't care when all he can feel is simmering jealousy. He still doesn't know what the hell is up with him for feeling this way, but he's not sure how to stop it.

In the far distance, the hum of propellers slowly approaches and interrupts his thoughts. It sounds like two, maybe three military choppers that Hunnigan must have sent to his coordinates arriving in a few minutes.

“They’re here!” Ashley chirps as she stands up, dusting her checkered skort that's too dirty for her ministrations to make a difference.

The other two walk back towards them, with the Spaniard showing his signature smirk. “Well, looks like it's our cue to go before the gun-wielding statesiders arrive to grant us our ‘freedom.’”

Nora snickers under her breath, and Leon just exhales. He would laugh if it was anyone else making that joke.

Stepping up to the duo, Ashley has a bittersweet smile as she murmurs, “I guess this is goodbye, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so… It was really nice meeting you, Ash,” Nora smiles. 

Instead of words, the girl responds with a hug that the brunette gladly returns. Out of all the survivors of the gruesome sect, the two women were the least prepared to face such horrors. In many ways, having each other nearby was a great boost for their morale.

“You stay out of trouble, Luis,” Ashley chides when she turns to him for an embrace, then giggles when he exaggeratedly winces from his sore arm.

“And you stay away from crazy cults, princesa. I might not be there next time to courageously rescue you, eh?”

Leon stands by awkwardly as Ashley finishes her adieus, before she turns to him expectantly like she assumes he will also be giving out sentimental hugs and friendly goodbyes. Instead, he just gives Luis a nod with a muttered, ‘take care of her.’ 

As for Nora, he opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, then opens it again, only to shake his head at how unbelievably embarrassing he must look to the group. Finally, he settles on a sincere plea. “Please be careful…”

All she does in response is nod stiffly before looking away. And with that, she and Luis wave one more goodbye to Ashley, before turning on their heels to walk down the empty road.  

Leon watches the two’s retreating backs, his chest tightening at the sight of the girl’s small limp. Above him, choppers whirr as they begin their descent, and he has to close his eyes when he feels his heart urge him to run after her. 

He wants to plead, beg, and cry for her to come with him so he can ensure she’s safe, so he can fix everything, so he can keep her close… But all he does is turn around to look away, the sight of her not sparing him a single additional glance searing his chest like a hot poker.

Next chapter coming soon.

i'm still feeling butterflies over that commission, i can't stop staring at it :') unfortunately for leon, that moment did not canonically happen in the story lmao but i like to think of it as a fluffy version of the nightmare nora experiences in chapter 8 👀

everyone get ready for roommates nora and luis hehe 💖

cw: canon typical violence

With the way cleared, Leon carries Nora silently through the bloodied battlefield of rotting corpses with squirming tendrils coming out of their wounds. He feels her tense up on his back at the gruesome sight, and he tightens his grip on her thighs to pull her somehow closer.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs softly, and she complies by hiding her face in the crook of his neck. A shiver runs through him at the feel, and he hums in approval. 

She doesn't need to see this nightmare of a place.

The agent can sense tiredness overwhelming his muscles, but there is nothing in the world that could stop him from continuing—he must get her to that lab no matter what. And so, he trudges, his boots squelching in pools of blood and gore through the long path to the summit. 

He remembers how he killed each and every one of the corpses lying about, how he showed no mercy to the crazed people that came at him with dangerous weapons and bared teeth. He made sure not to leave a single one standing, because he knew he would need to come back with her, and he could not risk any more danger coming her way.

For a moment, he remembers his mission’s primary goal of saving Ashley, and he can only hope Luis has taken care of her in his absence, since he clearly hasn't been doing job properly. No matter, the young woman on his back is his current priority.

Walking up the steps of the temple as he finally nears his destination, he nearly trips in exhaustion, the dark veins on his skin having spread to every part of him by this point. When Nora does not react to his faltering walk, her body completely limp, he pauses to check on her and realizes through her heavy breathing that she has fallen asleep.

Leon feels a sudden urge to hold her against his chest, and squeeze her tight enough nothing can separate them anymore. Then, he blinks away the weird thought and sighs. 

He’s definitely not okay.

Just as he shakes the oddly crippling feeling of want from his mind, he hears footsteps behind him, and immediately turns on high alert, only to find a familiar face: Ada.

“Leon,” she murmurs, eyeing him curiously with her sultry eyes, her gaze drifting to the sleeping girl he’s carrying, then back to his face.

“Ada,” he responds quietly. He’s already bracing himself for whatever might come her way. He might not have seen her for six years, not since that God forsaken night when she betrayed him, but he is still all too familiar with her ways—no matter if she helped him or not.

“You know, I expected you to show up and offer your assistance at some point, but it seems your hands are full…” she quirks an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I’ve been busy.”

She looks back at the path littered with bodies and nods slowly before turning to gesture at Nora. “Is she okay?”

“I need to get her to Luis’s lab,” he subconsciously tightens his grip on the young woman, “ need to get the parasite out of her.”

Ada tilts her head, a hint of a playful glint in her eyes. “You know you don't look too good either.”

“Yeah, well, I’m kind of used to having shitty days.”

“You really haven't changed, Leon...”

Unspoken questions swim in the man’s mind as the old acquaintance observes him with intrigue. He wants to ask who she’s working for this time that made her end up here, of all places. Especially knowing that whatever job she must be here to complete isn't in the least bit virtuous. But time is not on his side, so with a final nod, he turns to push open the old temple’s doors.

“He’s not dead,” Ada adds in a serious voice. “I ran out of ammunition, and he transformed into something even worse. I had to get out of there.”

Leon exhales through his nose as dread begins to consume him whole, and with a head turn past his shoulder, he murmurs quietly, “then I’ll deal with him.”

Finally, as he begins to shove the gates open, the mercenary moves to silently lend him a hand, walking into the sanctuary alongside him without explanation. Leon can only guess whatever she needs for her personal mission is somewhere inside.

Their boots thud with echoing footsteps in the cavernous chamber. Tall, stone pillars hold the ceiling in place, with giant statues of various hooded figures lining the walls—Saddler’s predecessors. Up a line of steps is an elevated platform with an ornate altar at its center, fit for human sacrifice in the name of the false church.

Leon scoffs at the grandiosity of the place of worship. Clearly these people think highly of themselves if this temple is anything to go by. Ada, walking beside him, purses her lips despite her usual aloof demeanor, indicating she is not pleased with being here either.

“The lab should be through there,” she gestures to an open entryway to the left. 

Sure enough, as the agent tiredly makes his way to the entrance, hoisting Nora up to not lose his secure grip on her, Ashley and Luis come walking out.

“They’re here!” the girl exclaims with a relieved smile, clutching her chest in gratitude.

“Sancho! You made it!” the stubbled-man grins, though his smile quickly fades when he sees the blonde’s tired state as well as the sleeping figure on his back. “Mierda… Is she okay? What happened?”

“Nothing… She’s just resting,” Leon grumbles, not pausing in his steps. He throws a quick glance towards Ashley who appears to be cured, no sign of infection on her body. 

Good. That's one less thing to worry about.

“It’s too quiet in here,” Ada mutters under her breath when not a single ganado shows up to stop them. She expected this place to have more security.

As if on cue, Saddler’s voice suddenly booms through the echoey cave. “It appears the lost lambs have found their way after all. Very well. It’s about time you all join our covenant."

“You just had to say something, didn't you?” Luis whispers at Ada, and she huffs, already aiming her gun at the cult leader.

Leon moves faster despite standing on his last leg—he can't let anything come between him and that lab. Except his body suddenly locks up outside of his will, a pained groan leaving him when every muscle in him cramps. Behind him, Nora stirs awake when she’s afflicted by the same fate, her whimper of agony making him want to claw at his insides to move and protect her.

At the sight of their contorted faces, the Spaniard turns in alarm towards the megalomaniac. He knows he is the one controlling their autonomy and stopping them from moving.

“Why must you reject serenity?” Saddler shakes his head, moving closer to the center of the room. His purple robes sway with each one of his movements as he lowers his hood to reveal gut-churning looking scales on his bald scalp—an appearance akin to an insect’s skin.

He then taps the ground with a staff he holds in hand. It’s taller than him, gold in color and shaped like the cult’s symbol. But what makes it truly egregious looking, are the wiggling fleshy tentacles wrapped around its stem and head, their extremities writhing in the air. 

Saddler seems confident enough in his power that he is not accompanied by bodyguards, only servants whose faces are hidden with cloth, and he eyes the group with a chillingly arrogant smile.

“To those of you who have forgone the gift, do not fret. I shall bestow upon you a new one, and this time, you will have no choice but to welcome it,” he grins. 

Another tap of his staff and Leon kneels to the floor, his taut limbs unable to catch Nora as she tumbles beside him. Everything hurts, every muscle spasming, and the parasite inside them rejoices at being controlled by its master.

“The time has come for these lambs to join our union in flesh and blood. Become one with the Holy Body!” Saddler continues his preaching, and with every word Leon and Nora writhe in more pain to the others’ horror.

“Luis…” Ada whispers, tightening her grip on her gun. “His eyes. On the count of three.”

The man jolts at the sound of his name like he almost forgot how to function from terror, and he gives the mercenary a quick nod while gesturing for Ashley to stay back.

“One…” the armed woman murmurs under her breath, her eyes focused intently on the false god.

“Oh, blessings unto them and the sweet mercy they bring!”

The two infected thrash even more violently, with Leon still attempting to reach for Nora despite his uncooperative body.

“Two…” 

Another tap of his staff, and Saddler growls even louder. “Exalt all—and let it be so!”

Pained screams rip out of the two like something straight out of a horror film, and it's Ada’s cue to finally shout to Luis, “three! Now!”

Without wasting another second, the two aim and shoot at the deranged man’s face, making him grunt in discontentment for breaking whatever control he was holding over his hostages.

The agent breathes heavily, his body trembling from the aftershocks of the intense pressure, and he finally grabs a hold of the young woman's arm like a lifeline.

“Leon! Go!” Ada shouts as she continues to rain fire on Saddler’s face, though the man only shields himself with an arm like he’s simply experiencing a mild inconvenience. Every bullet that hits him is absorbed into his skin like his flesh is made of liquid.

Leon doesn't need to be told twice before he’s hauling Nora into his arms with her barely realizing what's happening. He stands with a grunt and staggers into a labored walk, while she clutches onto him out of pure instinct.

“Go with them!” Luis barks at Ashley, and she scrambles into a run to follow his order.

“Wayward lambs! Servants of the heretic wolf! This will be your trial and tribulation!” Saddler grits out angrily, growing fat tentacles out of his back that match the ones on his staff in appearance, except these are nearly tree trunk sized.

Ada knows Leon won't make it in his fatigued state while the cult leader is on his tail, and her brain works a mile a minute as she attempts to think of a solution.

Taking advantage of Luis serving as a distraction with his shots, she notices one of the giant statues on the wall appears to be dilapidated enough that a metal chain is needed to hold it in place. It could serve as the perfect barricade if her plan works as intended.

With focused aim, she fires at the chain right as Leon, Nora, and Ashley pass through the exit, until the steel links break and the statue comes tumbling down with a deafening ruckus of breaking stone. It falls right where Ada hoped it would, acting as an obstruction that can buy the trio time while she and Luis attempt to deal with Saddler.

“The avarice of the wicked shall not be abided!” the latter scoffs as he prepares to lash at them, releasing from his palm the bullets his skin absorbed like some kind of unholy miracle.

Leon can only hear muffled noise through the thick stone as he advances through the dark hallway leading to his destination.

“It’s this way!” Ashley exclaims as she hurriedly walks ahead, turning around every other second to see the agent’s struggling form.

“Just hold on,” he grunts, and the girl isn't sure if he’s speaking to the one in his arms or himself.

Every step feels like he won't be able to make it to the next, and with Nora seemingly going in and out of consciousness, his crippling worry only grows.

Then, he blinks and he suddenly finds himself surrounded by dark hooded forms, his vision blurry and distorted.

“The hell?” he gasps, and the hallucination dissipates as fast as it came.

Ashley eyes him with evident concern, and she slows her steps to match his. “I can help you carry her.”

Through his hazy thoughts, he realizes it could be a wise idea, but something about delegating the task of transporting the girl causes him deep discomfort. He’s not willing to let her go.

“No, just… clear the way for me.”

The blonde woman nods and jogs to push open a gate waiting for them down the hallway. As Leon approaches, he’s hit once again with that same warped apparition of phantom figures. Only this time, it does not disappear quickly, it says, and he is forced to walk through the shadow-like silhouettes.

“Shit, I’m losing it,” he mutters to no one but himself. He is certain to have reached the very final stage of infection before turning into a mindless sheep.

Suddenly, a familiar voice echoes in his head. “Still you resist, child,” Saddler taunts him through the plaga’s connection.

“Fuck off!” Leon grits out in response, prompting Ashley to look at him confused, though she does not question his behavior.

Cursing seems to do the trick and the vision evaporates again to the agent’s relief, right as the young woman before him opens the door to Luis’s lab. 

Leon feels like he’s about to cry from desperation as he slogs towards the surgical bed centered in the middle of the room, flickering lights illuminating it like his last beacon of hope.

“This time… it has to be different,” he rasps out of despair.

After failing to save so many, he not only put Nora in danger by getting separated from her earlier, he actively harmed her in a way he never knew he could do to anyone. Now, with her trembling body in his grasp, he has reached what might be the most important moment in his life as he craves atonement for his mistake more than he craves air.

He simply has to save her.

Finally, the agent plops down the brunette onto the operating chair with a grunt, and looks around for what he’s supposed to do next, when Ashley moves faster than him.

“I got it!” She quickly stands before a computer screen, and begins fiddling with the keyboard until a beep is heard.

Suddenly, the chair whirrs as it rotates in place with Nora’s slackened body on top, a set of three laser machines moving to aim at the parasite inside her.

“Leon?” she whispers half consciously, and the man nearly stumbles to come stand beside her.

Holding onto the arm rest, he peers down at her with worry. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Um… This is gonna hurt,” Ashley murmurs from her spot, causing the agent to tense up, before she clicks the ‘enter’ key to begin the process.

The three laser pointers shine with a blue beam at each extremity as they detect the plaga, and a blood curdling scream rips out of the young woman as searing pain floods her like nothing she's experienced before.

Leon chokes on his own breath, abruptly dropping to his knees to hold onto her hand while her body writhes on the chair like she’s being burned alive.

“Fuck, fuck… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he nearly sobs, his eyes watering at the sight of her agony. He would do anything to trade off her suffering if he didn't know it was necessary for a cure.

Ashley covers her cheeks in anxiousness, the screams making her wince as she recalls the way her own filled the room only moments before.

It’s only after what feels like an eternity that the machine stops. The computer screen shows that the procedure was a success, and the pain in Nora’s chest finally subsides.

Leon feels himself finally breathe when she stops writhing, her body going limp in exhaustion. A ghost of a smile etches on his lips in relief, tightening his hands around hers with a sigh.

Then, Ashley says something he isn't able to catch, her voice sounding muffled in his ears as the room spins when his body officially reaches its breaking point. His eyes roll back, and he loses balance just to fall onto his side with a thud, lying motionless on the ground.

Through her blurry vision, Nora walks down a long, dark hallway where the air is cold and humid on her skin. She can't see much apart from a flickering light at the end of the tunnel, with an open doorway leading into pitch blackness. 

As her footsteps echo down the corridor, she begins to feel the crippling sensation of being watched. A cold sweat covers her flesh and makes her clothes cling to her form from the ominous feeling. Sure enough, the moment she turns to look back, she finds a pair of ice blue eyes lurking behind in the shadows.

Filled with chilling terror, Nora breaks into a run in the direction of the flickering light, her breathing labored from the adrenaline of sprinting towards her only hope of survival.

When she nearly reaches her destination, she turns one more time just to see a hand reaching out from the darkness. It’s outstretched towards her, so close it nearly wrenches her by the hair. Then, she hits a hard surface that knocks the air out of her lungs, and a pair of arms wrap around her tightly enough she can hardly breathe.

At first she thinks she was caught by the monster behind her, but then she realizes she has run into the arms of a man who appeared from the open door. When she looks up to meet his eyes with wide ones, she finds a familiar face already looking down at her. Leon.

Nora attempts to scream, to warn him of the demon, but she can't speak, and is forced to helplessly watch him gently smile at her, as if everything is alright in the world.

“I’m here,” he murmurs softly. His voice reverberates across her whole body as if he's inside her, right as the blue eyed creature's hands wrap around her throat from behind.

“Nora!” Ashley shakes her shoulder and she’s suddenly jolted awake from her blurry nightmare. 

Her chest heaves, sweat beading at her temple, and she looks around to find herself in a familiar room. Though, it's one she had only visited on screen in pixelated form.

“Ashley…” she whispers as her consciousness catches up.

“We have to help Leon!”

“What?” 

Nora turns confused to find the agent on the floor, passed out, and the memory of exactly that happening in the game jolts her into action.

She doesn't pause to waste time pondering whether she should offer aid, when her and Ashley crouch by his slackened body hurriedly.

“You hold his feet. I’ll grab his shoulders,” she murmurs and the other girl nods.

With laborious effort, she hooks her arms under his, his head falling limply on her chest, and she groans as she attempts to lift him only for her muscles to strain.

“Holy fuck… How did you manage to do this alone?” she gasps.

Is Ashley a secret body builder? Because no way she carried him on her own in the game.

“What do you mean?” the blonde woman frowns in confusion, only to be met by a dismissive wave.

“Don't worry about it… Change of plan, we both lift him by the shoulders.”

On a count of three, they hoist him up with all their strength, and with shaky legs they are able to manage hauling him over to the chair. The two women unceremoniously dump him on the worn leather, his head toppling to the side and nearly hitting the armrest if not for Nora’s quick reflex in catching him.

Finally, Ashley hurries to the computer to start the parasite removal process once again, the lasers moving in place to fire up.

Despite being unconscious, Leon’s back arches off the chair as soon as the machine whirrs, a pained whimper escaping him in his sleep. Soon enough, his eyes fly open with a scream, and both girls wince from the guttural sound he’s unable to stop.

After debating for a split second, Nora tentatively reaches for his hand, and he grips hers with a crushing hold like his life depends on it. She watches him with a heavy heart as he squeezes his eyes in agony, all too familiar with the horrible feeling he’s undergoing.

He continues writhing until the plaga is eliminated and the engine stops, his body settling lifelessly if not for his heavy breathing.

When he looks up through his teary eyes to find the brunette standing beside him, holding his hand, he wishes he could curl up into a ball in her arms. Like some kind of overgrown toddler.

“Are you okay?” Ashley comes into view, eyeing him with concern.

That seems to be what pulls Nora out of her momentary display of affection, and she withdraws her hand quickly like the act is shameful. The agent wishes he could protest.

He nods, slowly sitting up. “Yeah, thanks… both of you.”

“Luis said you came here to save me,” the younger woman smiles softly, “is that true?”

Leon can't help a low chuckle, pushing himself into a standing position that has him now looking down at Ashley. “Yes, I’m here on the president’s orders... Sorry that you were left in the care of others, but I promise I’ll do what I can to take you home.”

To his surprise, the girl appears to blush, and a small smile etches on his face at the sight. President’s daughter or not, she’s just a college kid, no older than twenty. Her innocence reminds him of his younger self, before his life got turned upside down.

The agent’s thoughts are suddenly interrupted when Nora grabs Ashley’s wrist. “Come on, Ash, we need to go,” she mutters under her breath, and he notices the pursing of her lips.

Leon thinks she feels protective over the blonde girl, and something inside him breaks at the thought. He is supposed to be a protector, the guy that comes in to save those in need. But now he’s the creep women fear and shield each other from, and he can't even argue against it after what he’s done.

“Wait, what's this?” Ashley suddenly halts in her steps and points to something on the floor. 

Nora lets go of her as her eyes catch on the shiny object laying on the dark tile. She recognizes it immediately, her eyes widening at the sight of the acrylic keychain linking her house keys. It must've fallen from her pocket at some point, though she completely forgot she even had the object to begin with after the entire craziness of the day.

“Why does that look like… Luis?” the blonde tilts her head as she eyes the charm, and Nora feels her heart stutter in panic.

“What? Don’t be silly,” she chuckles awkwardly. She then quickly grabs the keys and shoves them back into her pocket before either Ashley or Leon see it. First, out of sheer embarrassment, and second, in order not to give any unnecessary explanations to the girl.

The agent, who witnessed the entire ordeal, feels a flood of questions about to spill out of him. But he sees her uncomfortable expression, and understands not to push the issue.

“Let’s go,” he clears his throat, and moves to lead the way.

The two women fall into step behind him, Nora’s pulse calming down slightly. She can't believe they almost saw her stupid keychain. It’s a two sided one of chibi versions of Luis and Leon with chains around their wrists, with the American looking grumpy and the Spaniard sporting his signature grin. 

It’s meant to be a cute reference to the infamous chain scene during the game. The one where they get abducted by the priest Bitores Mendez, and Leon is injected with the plaga. 

It doesn't sound very cute anymore.

“So… Have you guys met before?” Ashley murmurs to Nora, interrupting her thoughts.

“You’re the second person that's asked that today,” she chuckles bitterly in response. “But no, we haven't.”

Leon reloads his eyes and he keeps his eyes focused ahead, pretending not to hear the conversation that is so very clearly about him.

“Oh, okay… But he seems to know that other woman, right?”

“Right.”

Ashley does not pick up on Nora’s clipped tone, but Leon does, already growing acquainted with her different moods. He can tell this topic is unsurprisingly not her favorite after he reacted so violently to her pointed truths about it.

Her words still echo in his mind. ‘Pussy-whipped,’ she had called him—the bruise to his ego is still present. But the contrition that festers inside him quickly overshadows any selfish emotions of hurt.

It’s not like she's completely wrong—he has indeed let Ada’s less-than-ethical actions slip by, but it's because deep inside he feels like he owes his survival to her. 

Yes, she lied and used him, but she also saved him and refused to shoot him when the decisive moment came. He has spent the last six years replaying the events of that night in his mind, ruminating about every single thing he did wrong and how he could have done better. But one thing he knows is that he would not have made it out alive on his own, and that Ada, as questionable as she may be, came to his help repeatedly.

Focusing back on the present moment, the trio make it back through the rubble-turned-temple. It looks like a violent battle took place in the cave, so they are forced to divert their point of exit through a gate on a higher floor. Outside, they find themselves on a cliffside overlooking an industrial port. 

“Wait, is that…” Ashley gasps, and to Leon’s surprise—and Nora’s lack thereof—they notice in the distance the same woman mentioned moments prior, held helplessly hostage.

Dangling in the air by her bound arms, Ada Wong appears to be unconscious as her hung body sways in the breeze of the approaching Spanish dawn.

“Shit!” Leon curses, looking around for any sign of whoever clearly placed her there as bait.

“Wait… Where’s Luis?” Nora whispers, and her worry seems to contaminate Ashley who also stiffens in place.

The port is empty, without a single soul in sight apart from the poor suspended mercenary, and a crippling feeling of dread slowly starts creeping through the brunette.

What if he didn't make it? What if she couldn't prevent his death? She would hate herself forever.

“Krauser…” Leon concludes, then caulks his shotgun with a tight jaw.

The name makes a chill run down Nora’s spine. “I thought Ada took care of him,” she addresses the agent.

He hates to be the bearer of bad news, especially after what must undoubtedly be the girl’s worst day of her life, but he knows he can't lie either. So, with a grim expression he shakes his head.

“She ran out of ammo—said he’s still out here.”

And that confirms it. Nora’s heart shatters into a million pieces as she realizes the inevitable happened. Luis was killed like his life meant nothing, without her even being there to bid her goodbyes. 

Her eyes well up with grieving tears.

Next chapter.

i know you all want to murder me for the elephant in the room but can we please just to take an additional moment to appreciate augustus' cute little keychain! 🤓

cw: canon typical violence and gore

In the silence only interrupted by the sound of the breeze and crashing waves, the realization of Luis’s death falls onto Nora, Ashley, and Leon grimly.

The latter can see how much it affects the two women, their faces falling in grief, and he wishes he could offer some kind of support. But Ada is still hung down there to lure him out, and he knows he must help her and end this entire mess once and for all.

“Both of you stay here,” he mutters as he moves to stand on an industrial lift, pushing the ‘down’ button. “I won't be long,” he adds with one last lingering glance towards Nora.

The brunette suddenly steps closer to the descending elevator. She feels a sudden urge to offer advice despite the memory of how badly that resulted before.

“There are explosives planted on the island, ask Ada about how much time left before they go off… Also, if you can kill Saddler, then they all die—just focus on him.”

Staring up at her with that same awe he displayed before, he can't hide the small smile that etches itself on his lips. Every time she talks to him—really talks to him—he feels like he’s given a chance at atonement. He has to admit that the feeling is addicting.

“Thanks... Will do,” he mutters with an appreciative nod.

With Leon descending to lead an undoubtedly gruesome fight, the young women are left to worry anxiously on the cliff. 

Ashley is particularly nervous as she clutches her chest. “Do you really think he can do this alone?”

All too familiar with the agent’s skills, the brunette nods slowly through her teary vision. “He has to.”

With a single shot to the rope suspending her, Leon manages to cut Ada free and her body thuds to the metal platform with a loud bang. He runs to make his way to her, but is interrupted by none other than Jack Krauser as he lands in front of him out of nowhere.

If he looked scary before, then he is downright terrifying now. His arms have turned into massive, jagged limbs of distorted flesh and protruding bones that look like they could slice a person in half. 

“Not so fast, rookie. We’re not done yet.”

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Leon feels his irritation spike knowing Saddler probably sent him as a last line of defense. So much for focusing on the leader—now he still has to deal with his old mentor anyway.

Through a clenched jaw, he grits out, “we’re about to be.” Then, he doesn't waste time before he’s aiming and firing bullets at the mutated man, which the other tries to deflect with his deformed arms, the rounds bouncing off hard bone.

“How long do you plan to fight in that primitive body of yours?” Krauser hisses before lunging for the agent.

The latter barely dodges the attack, rolling to the ground with a grunt. “So that's your true power? Oh, I’d ask for a refund.”

Gritting his teeth, the ex-mentor immediately moves to land another strike, “you’re gonna regret that smart mouth of yours!”

From her elevated spot, Nora watches the scene with a lump in her throat, knowing fully that if Leon fails, her and Ashley are doomed just like Luis was.

Her eyes keep darting to Ada who’s still unconscious in the corner. In the game she immediately recovers and helps the agent defeat Saddler. But then again, in the game she does it all while wearing stilettos. 

“Oh my God,” Ashley gasps when Leon is flung over the edge of the platform, barely holding on not to fall. Her hand shoots to grab Nora’s in panic, and the latter returns the gesture with an anxious squeeze.

“Come on, Kennedy…” she mutters under her breath. “Come on…”

Krauser moves to step on his already slipping grip, a mean smile on his face as he watches the man under him struggle. “Uncle Sam did one thing for me, I’ll give him that. He sent me you. And not some good-for-nothing grunt.”

Leon hisses in pain as his right hand drops after a particularly viscous stomp on his knuckles. But he quickly uses his free arm to reach for his knife and slash Krauser’s ankle with as much force as necessary to get him to back off.

Sure enough, he succeeds, then pulls himself back on solid ground fast. But, he barely gets on his feet when a sharp limb nearly decapitates him if not for his quick reflexes.

He parries the strike with his knife, his opponent moving too fast to allow him to draw his gun again. Then another slash, and another, and another.

“You’re losing your cool, making mistakes… And I can't wait to see you writhe when you submit,” Krauser snickers between his incessant attacks.

Leon, struggling to keep up with the other’s speed, feels his anger rise from the taunting threats. “I’d rather die than turn into a covert freak like you!”

That makes the infected man pause, as if the words hit a particularly sore spot. Then, his expression morphs into something far more serious. “Fine… Then I guess you’ll just have to die.”

In a blink, the giant mutant has his sword-like arm on the agent’s throat, which the latter blocks with his knife and forearm as he falls back first on the hard floor. His skin bleeds, his blade chips, and he feels his heart pumping so fast he can feel it in his temples while trying to ward off Krauser’s attack. 

Then, for a moment, his eyes drift to look past the imposing man, and fall on the brown pair watching him from above. When their gazes lock, he suddenly feels like he could cry at the sight.

There she is. One hand clutching her chest, the other gripping Ashley tight. She looks like she's uttering prayers under her breath, like they are the only thing keeping him safe. Leon believes they probably are.

His momentary lapse of attention is noticed by Krauser—of course it is—and he snorts mockingly as he drives his sharp appendage harder against Leon’s bleeding arm.

“Oh, worried about the girl, is that it?” He tilts his head like a predator playing with its prey. “Worried about what I’ll do to her and the rest of you? You know you can't save her… You can't save anyone.”

For a brief second, Leon truly pictures what that would look like. Nora—mindless, empty—yielding to the psycho’s commands while the agent is forced to watch, and maybe even partake in whatever sick fantasies the fucker has. 

If he ever felt bad about fighting his ex-comrade  before, all feelings of sympathy leave to make way for unwavering rage. He has to end this now.

“You know you were always an asshole… But at least you had some honor,” he spits out.

With a deep inhale to brace himself for the incoming pain, Leon slides his knife off and lets his forearm take the brunt of the impact. An agonized groan tears out of him, but he focuses his strength on using his now free blade to plant it right into Krauser’s underarm.

The latter suddenly steps back with a curse, and this time Leon does not wait when he stands, unslinging his shotgun and blasting three consecutive shots to the ex-army man’s chest, the shells making him fall to his knee.

Krauser makes a pained growl, and sees the streams of crimson dripping out of his open wounds in thick rivulets—he knows his time is near. Especially with the murderous glare the other is giving him.

With a heaving chest, he watches the younger man approaching with his knife in hand, ready to deal the finishing blow. “Do what you have to do…”

Leon doesn't respond, keeping a cold, merciless expression that would otherwise be conflicted if not for the previous cruel threats—especially the ones about her. It’s why he doesn't feel an ounce of remorse as he readies his weapon.

“That’s right…” Krauser whispers, still holding on to some pride. “I trained you w—”

The agent does not allow him to finish, slashing his throat violently. He watches with satisfaction as blood fills the man’s mouth and sprays all over him while he gurgles and chokes pathetically.

“Rot in hell, you freak,” Leon hisses coldly as the light leaves Krauser’s eyes. 

Then, he retrieves his blade, just to kick the other’s already falling body off the ledge of the platform. He observes in contentment as the corpse plummets down through the cold air, until it crashes into the freezing water with a big splash.

Good riddance, Leon thinks to himself bitterly.

With his chest heaving, he looks up again to catch Nora’s gaze. There's almost a pride in his chest knowing he protected her from the monstrous man, even if he knows he doesn't fare much better than him either.

She's the first to look away, turning to say something to Ashley. It bothers him how she avoids him, even when he’s aware she has every right to.

Movement in his peripheral vision suddenly catches his eye, and he turns to find the mercenary slowly waking up.

“Ada…” Leon makes his way to her with hurried steps as she sits up in a daze. “You okay?”

“I was just resting my eyes,” she mutters quietly, an edge to her voice that says she doesn't enjoy being caught in a vulnerable state.

Remembering Nora’s advice he crouches beside the old acquaintance. “I heard there's bombs planted around the place. Something about a timer… Care to share?”

“Have you been spying on me?” she quirks a brow as she dusts herself. “Yes, there's a timer. Not much time left on it, actually, so we need to leave.”

“You still do not understand,” a familiar voice suddenly resounds in the humid air. No longer walking on his feet, but slithering on his grotesque tentacles, Osmund Saddler finally makes an appearance now that even his strongest soldier has been defeated. “You have forsaken the great gift—the Holy Body…”

Leon and Ada look at each other with a knowing look. Not this guy again. They both stand into a fighting stance, guns already drawn out.

“Sorry, but I don't think you're very good at picking gifts,” the agent quips before firing shots.

The woman joins him as they both attack the cult leader, but as the bullets sink into his skin and are swallowed by it like nothing, all it serves is to enrage him more.

“You foul renegade!” he snarls angrily, his body growing more tentacles as he steadily becomes more formed. “Such blasphemous desecration! Such unforgivable heresy! You require ABSOLUTION!”

Leon feels the adrenaline in his blood renew in fervor at the sight of the monster increasing in size before him. More limbs, more eyes, more fleshy tendrils and bony protrusions, until he’s standing at nearly 50 feet tall of abomination. Saddler now looks like an arachnid from hell—something between a scorpion, a spider, and an overgrown tick. The latter fits him most considering his love for parasites.

“Keep our friend here busy,” Ada suddenly announces as she darts away before one of the ugly limbs can strike her.

Confused, Leon only hopes she didn't just abandon him to deal with the monster all alone as he continues to shoot and dodge while he can. He’s never sure when it comes to her.

From the cliff, Ashley is crushing Nora’s hand from fear, the sight of Saddler’s gigantic form scaring her to her core. The brunette can relate, but she is more focused on the woman that just left the battlefield running.

Unlike the game, Ada does not seem to be equipped with the laws-of-physics-defying grapple hook she famously uses. Instead, she has to rely on her poor legs, sprinting in the opposite direction of the fight with a determined look.

She reaches a ladder and begins climbing it, her boots thudding on the steel rungs. Once at the top, her plan becomes clear when she climbs into the operator’s cab of a parked crane tower overlooking the port.

“You know, we had a class on the basics of driving construction machines once… In Driver’s Ed,” Ashley murmurs as she chews her bottom lip anxiously. Nora can't help but smile at her random comment, knowing she's attempting to keep herself distracted. But quickly, the frown on the brunette's face returns when Leon gets flung across the platform and lands heavily on his back. That has got to hurt.

Above, the crane starts to move with a loud whirr, a large container slowly swinging at its end. It steadily gains velocity as Ada commands it with focus, the machine creaking noisily. Then, as Leon rolls out of the way, and Nora and Ashley hold their breath, the container finally collides violently against Saddler’s monstrous form.

He roars as he nearly topples into the water, his limbs scraping against metal while crushed by the massive box. With his body half squashed under the heavy weight, he’s unable to move fully, and Leon takes that to his advantage.

He doesn't waste time before he’s sprinting towards the creature. He shoots a grotesque, yellow eye bulging out of the mouth of Saddler’s still human face at the center of the transmuted body. 

Greenish, viscous pus splatters out of the bulb with every bullet that pierces it, seemingly vulnerable to penetrating objects unlike the rest of him. Understanding he found his weak spot, Leon knows he needs to obliterate the eye, but then realizes he has officially run out of ammo.

Bad luck strikes when the sound of fluttering wings fills his ears. Looking up, he sees an incoming flight of humanoid bugs—novistadores. They begin to swarm around him, and he feels dread settling in his bones when he knows he has nothing to fend them off with apart from his knife. 

“USE THE STAFF!” a voice shouts through the distance, past the guttural clicking of insects. 

When he turns, Leon finds Nora gesturing wildly to the golden stick abandoned on the floor. He feels his heart skip a beat from her offering him guidance once again—he could get used to this.

With a determined step, he grabs the shiny rod in hand, then uses it to hit the creatures in his way to clear the passage. Once successful, he doesn't hesitate to climb the shrieking Saddler who’s still attempting to get the hefty weight of the container off him.

“I’ll give you a holy body,” Leon mutters between clenched teeth before driving the pointy metal pole into the oozing orb.

An animalistic howl emanates from the bioweapon of a man, his body writhing and thrashing, prompting the agent to quickly hop off its unsteady surface. 

He braces himself to continue the fight, readying the staff like a baseball bat against the novistadores, only to watch them screech in agony as they fall to the floor convulsing. It seems they're dying now that their master is gone. Once again, Nora was right.

“Leon!” Ada calls out to him, standing again on the platform. “We need to go!”

Just as she says that, a loud boom detonates in the horizon, the other part of the island beginning to explode as the timer runs out.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath and drops the rod with a clink as he breaks into a sprint. Hurriedly making his way back to the lift, he is relieved to see Nora and Ashley already descending. 

The latter smiles at the sight of him when the elevator reaches the lower level. “Leon! You did it!” she exclaims despite the stressful situation.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” he mutters, stealing a quick glance at Nora before gesturing for them to follow along. “Come on, we need to get out of here.”

Ada, who is waiting with her arms crossed at the edge of the podium, spots the promised helicopter as it approaches her position. The loud noise from the propellers fills the air as the other three come to join her, waiting anxiously for the chopper while more explosions detonate in the distance.

When she comes to a stop behind her, Nora notices the highly-sought-after resin slotted into one of her tactical belt compartments.

“Wait, Krauser didn't take the amber from Luis?” she frowns.

Turning to look at her past her shoulder, Ada gives a small head shake. “Luis gave it to me himself before he left.”

“What do you mean he left?”

“Krauser was on his tail. I guess he didn't want him to have it, so he gave it to me instead… Just like we had agreed.”

Hopeful thoughts swirl in Nora’s head. Maybe Luis somehow escaped the cruel man’s wrath if he didn't have the amber on him. But still, her stomach remains knotted when she imagines that wherever he might be, dead or alive, he will surely die now from the bombs.

Another one goes off right as the thought crosses her mind, causing the ground to shake beneath her feet. She wants to ask more questions, but the chopper has arrived, and Ada is already hopping onto it.

The wind blows wildly into their faces as Leon stands to the side, wanting to ensure both young women are offered a place on the aircraft first. He sees the mercenary say something to the pilot before giving him a quick nod, and it's his cue to help Ashley climb inside.

Then comes Nora’s turn, and he feels his heartbeat instantly increase when he tentatively offers her a hand. She takes it and he breathes in relief. 

Then, when she places her injured foot inside the helicopter, she pauses. For a moment, he thinks she might be in pain, but then he sees her turn to look behind with a hopeful expression for a brief second, before finally heading inside. 

Leon quickly understands she’s praying Luis can make it, and the thought fills him with an odd mix of contradicting emotions. He enters the flying engine right after her, sensing something ugly making itself home in his gut. He will later come to grow very familiar with the feeling.

The man can't help but ruminate in bitterness. He imagines that if it was him who was left out there, Nora would not care for his demise. He understands, of course. He knows why he doesn't deserve her care, and yet, he still wholeheartedly envies Luis.

He thinks of the perished Spaniard. The guy didn't turn out half as bad as he initially thought. But he was still involved with the crazy cultists, and for that reason alone he’s not worthy of the attention of a pretty girl. Or maybe another pretty girl is fine… Just not her. No, she deserves better.

With that thought in mind, he sits beside Ada and opposite Ashley. If Luis doesn't deserve Nora’s attention, then he’s at the bottom of the list of the people who do.

The chopper begins to gain altitude and he glances at the woman next to him with a tired exhale, hoping to distract his thoughts. “Do I even wanna know what you plan on doing with that?” he gestures to the amber on her belt.

A mischievous gleam shines in her eyes as she tilts her head. “Oh, Leon. You know I don't work and tell.”

“Yeah, I figured,” he grumbles under his breath.

“Oh my God! Is that Luis?!” Ashley squeaks out suddenly as she points through the window.

Nora nearly jumps in her seat as she moves closer to the screen, and she feels her heart physically stutter at the sight of the man in question.

“Luis…” she whispers in shock then turns to Leon with a wide eyed smile. “It’s him! He’s alive!”

The agent doesn't know what to say when she gives him that excited look—he never even knew she could look that happy again. Still, vile jealousy bubbles inside him once again, but instead of scoffing in her face with some mean comment about the man, he just sighs—both of barely contained exasperation and begrudging relief.

Leon turns to Ada again with an almost bored expression. “Can we go back around?”

She eyes him with that same curious, yet unreadable look she always seems to have before nodding. And just like that, the pilot guides the helicopter so it descends once more for the last survivor.

From the window, Nora is holding her breath as she watches Luis run towards the aircraft with a staggered sprint. He seems to be holding his arm with a contorted expression, then nearly loses balance when an explosion hits too close and the port begins falling apart around him.

Just as the chopper gets in position and Ada slides the door open, Nora is jutting her head out as she shouts through the deafening noise of bombs and propellers. “Luis! Come on!”

It takes everything in Leon not to ask her to be careful, keeping his berating mouth shut as he watches the scene with a tight jaw—something that doesn't go unnoticed by the mercenary beside him.

Ashley joins Nora in her cheers for the running man, and when he finally reaches his destination while narrowly escaping another blast, he all but crashes on the chopper’s floor.

“Alabado sea el Señor…” he mutters with a shaky breath once the door shuts, before the wind is knocked out of him when a pair of arms hug him suddenly.

Not having wasted a second, Nora squeezes him tight in her embrace, tears of relief clouding her vision. “Thank God… I thought I couldn't save you.”

He chuckles in strained breaths, then holds her with his uninjured arm and strokes her back up and down. “I’m the one that was supposed to do the saving, cariño… I’m so happy everyone is safe.”

Ashley, smiling at the sight, suddenly joins them to form a group hug, her own voice laced with emotion. “I can't believe we all made it!”

Nora and Luis giggle as they pat her shoulders, all while the two professionals sitting on the other side eye the scene with exasperation. One because she can't believe she's sharing her precious chopper with a bunch of corny idiots, and the other because he’s seething in jealousy and is barely able to contain himself.

“Put on your seatbelts,” he mutters indignantly over the rhythmic thumping of propellers.

Luis, slowly retreating from the two women’s embrace, gives him a lazy grin as he settles in the middle seat. “Missed you too, Sancho.”

Next chapter.

The squelch of mud under Nora’s soles resounds with every step she takes beside Luis. They weave between tombstones as they approach the fenced church gates, the storm having finally subsided. Thankfully, no ganados are in sight around the graveyard, but they stay crouched nonetheless for extra measures of inconspicuousness.

During their walk through the shadows of the village, Luis found out about her half decent Spanish to his great delight, and that has resulted in him displaying an even more playful demeanor—if that was even possible. 

“This is ridiculous,” the Spaniard grumbles in a hushed voice. “You know, the yanqui—Leon—is here to save her. Let him deal with this.”

Nora feels her gut twist at the mention of the agent, and she quickly dismisses the argument with a shake of her head. “He can't help her right now. Just trust me.”

The leather-wearing brunette pauses, turning to her with a raised brow. “Wait, what do you mean? I thought you didn't know him.”

“I don't. Not really,” she snaps abruptly, before softening her tone. “It’s just… I met him, and, uh, he’s not doing okay.”

“Do you mean…”

“No, not dead. Just probably some PTSD making him act weird... American soldiers, am I right?” She offers a weak attempt at humor.  

Luis chuckles dryly in response as they reach the outer fence encircling the building, pushing open the gate and ushering her in.

“Tell me about it,” he sighs in frustration, “things were already bad, and then Saddler had to bring in ese enfermo de mierda Krauser. Some army colonel or major, yo qué coño sé.” He huffs, then gives her a sly grin. “Sorry for all the cursing, by the way.”

Nora waves a dismissive hand at his half-serious apology. She knows exactly what he’s talking about. Krauser is sick and a massive asshole, and as much as she liked his character as an interesting villain, she does not wish under any circumstance to be faced with his real life counterpart. Especially knowing he assassinates Luis in the game’s story, which is something she has avoided thinking about at all costs. 

No. She won't let that happen. If she is saving Ashley, then she is certainly preventing Luis’s death.

“Nah, I completely agree. Ese puto loco.”

He laughs at her grumbled curse, nodding in approval with his charming smile, “I like your style.”

An animalistic growl echoes suddenly in the night air, and they turn their heads to find an infected wolf stalking from around the church’s corner. But what makes it even more egregious looking than its jagged teeth and foaming muzzle, are the fleshy tentacles that protrude from its back, writhing and squiggling as they prepare to lash.

“¡Mierda!” Luis curses, taking out his semi-automatic pistol and aiming at the ugly creature. “Stay behind me!”

Nora covers her ears before he even fires, already anticipating the loud gunshots that quickly follow. The cracking sound reverberates through her skull, and she startles no matter how much she tries to get used to it. She was never a fan of guns, but that fear has now reached exponential levels.

“Damn it, I’m running out!” the man curses when his bullets begin to deplete.

Fortunately, he’s a good shot, and right as the wolf attempts to strike with its tendrils, he fires at one and causes it to retreat with a shriek. He then shoots its grotesque mug repeatedly, until enough rounds pierce its brain and it staggers to the ground, howling pathetically.

“Por fin… I wasted all my bullets on that mutt,” Luis tsks, checking the remaining measly amount left in his pocket.

“This place is a fucking nightmare,” Nora whispers to no one but herself.

“You’re telling me… Come on, let's go rescue the princesa.”

She watches him make his way around the dog’s lifeless corpse, and follows behind with a faint smile. “Princesa Dulcinea?”

He whips around with twinkling eyes, pointing his finger at her like she just said the most genius thing he’s ever heard. “I was just about to say that!”

Chuckling at their synchronized thinking—or really Nora’s prior knowledge of his jokes before he can even utter them—they stop by the iron palisade gate. At its center, lies a circular indent for the medallion key needed to open it, which they naturally do not have.

However, on their way to the location, Nora gave the matter some thought, and remembered the way in through a window at the back of the chapel. It's the way from which Leon and Ashley escape when he comes to get her, and she wonders why he didn't just go in from there in the first place instead of running around searching for the insignia. 

Video game logic, she concludes.

“You seem to know your way around.” Luis pulls her out of her thoughts when she begins to lead the way around the back.

“Um, I passed by here before,” she mutters out a half-lie. “I heard the poor girl cry through the walls, but couldn't find a way in.”

He eyes her curiously for a moment, before a warm smile etches on his stubbled face. 

“You’re a brave one, you know?”

Her chest warms and she suddenly feels the urge to give him a hug. Here he is, the poor, gifted guy whose passion for biology led him down a hellish road. And now, he's trying to do the right thing by risking his life to save others, when he’s on the cult’s list of most wanted.

“You too,” she murmurs sincerely, feeling the first shred of hope illuminate her heart since she spawned in this godforsaken world.

“Sure…” Luis smirks with a small nod, but despite his best efforts to seem casual, she can tell the words affect him.

They walk through the arched passageway that leads into the rear yard of the house of worship. There is an elevated ledge built into the stone wall, with a terrace-like platform at the top. All they need to do is to get up there, and then from that point find a way through the window and into the church.

Except for one glaring difference.

“There's no ladder…”

Luis raises an eyebrow at Nora’s dejected comment, before laughing incredulously.

“Well they're not gonna make it that easy for us, are they, cariño?”

“Right,” she nods with a sigh. She then looks around, hoping to find something to use instead, when her eyes land on an old, discarded dresser leaning against the wall. “What about that closet over there?”

The Spaniard walks up to the piece of furniture, giving it a nudge to attempt to push it, but the heavy wood barely creaks. He huffs, then ushers for the woman to lend him a hand, which she doesn't hesitate to give.

With each on either side of the dresser, they hold onto its edges in preparation of dragging it to the desired spot.

“Let's hope I don't break my back. Because then you’ll have to carry me bridal style,” he winks and she rolls her eyes playfully in response.

When he gives her the signal, she pulls with all her muscle power while he pushes, the both of them straining as they move the cabinet at a snail’s pace.

“God, this is so fucking heavy,” she grunts in frustration.

Nora finds herself wondering how in the actual hell did the blonde agent push it out of the way during his escape with Ashley. But then, she remembers how freakishly strong he is, and discards any more thoughts spared on the mentally unwell man.

“Come on, just one more push,” Luis groans with a final bout of effort, before finally bringing the cabinet under the terrace’s ledge. “There, we did it!” 

He holds up a hand for a high five, which Nora meets with a slap of her palm gleefully, smiling despite herself. Even as the dulling pain under the back pockets of her jeans throbs, the grinning man before her still manages to bring a smile on her face, and that has her wishing he was the one she fell on top of hours prior.

Opening the furniture’s doors, they use the shelves lining its inside like steps of a ladder, climbing onto the ledge of the open balcony. The view from above is dizzying, and the woman avoids looking down to not add to her already consuming nervousness.

“I’ll hoist you up,” Luis announces, gesturing to the glass-less window above them.

Nora ponders the idea. She's never had to do something like that in her life, and she is far from an athletic person. There is also a shameful insecurity concerning the plumpness of her figure. She is what is colloquially known as ‘midsize’—at least in her time, 2024. Right on the range of average, but by no means thin, and the idea of being carried by a rather scrawny looking man makes her uncomfortable. Especially after her freshman year college boyfriend tried, and it ended with her face on the floor and a scraped elbow. Never again.

“I’ve never done this before…” she murmurs nervously. “Can I be the one to give you a boost?”

The man’s eyebrows shoot up as he laughs, but then he notices her awkward expression and understands she must feel discomfort at the idea.

“Ah, what kind of gentleman would that make me?” He teases lightly in hopes to soothe her nerves. “But fine, I’ll be the pretty damsel, again. You and Ada would get along.”

Being unfamiliar with how exactly one offers a leg up, she listens to his instructions and crouches with one knee on the floor. He gives her a thumbs up, checking for her readiness, and once she nods, he places a boot on her propped up thigh and pushes. Her leg nearly gives out from the weight of an entire adult man, but she holds herself in place not to let him fall.

After a bit of effort, Luis is able to haul himself through the window, kicking at the wall for leverage and propelling himself inside the building’s attic. A second later, and he’s looking down at her from the opening.

“¿Estás bien?”

“SÍ.”

He grins at her response, then holds up a finger, “hold on, I think I see some rope.”

After a moment, thick cordage dangles down the wall, with the man looping it around his forearms for a secure grip. 

“There. Just hold on tight and don't fall, eh?”

Nora tests the line with a tug before gripping it firmly. She then places a foot on the wall, and with a muttered prayer, begins to climb. Her arms and core muscles activate to the fullest, the rope pricks her palms with tiny fibrous needles, and her shoes are too slippery from mud, but she tries nonetheless. Luis does not give up on gripping the rope either, his own foot pushing on the brick wall for added strength.

“Ngh—you can do it,” he exclaims in a strained voice, though she isn't sure if he's cheering on her or on himself.

With a final exertion, she reaches the ledge and pulls herself inside with a tumble to the floor. The man chuckles, chest heaving from effort, before offering her an open palm. 

“Eso, guapa.”

Nora huffs out a small laugh as she takes his hand. She’s not a fan of this whole pushing your body to its limits thing, and she hopes they can retrieve the president’s daughter and get the hell out without alerting the cult. Though, the more she thinks about it, the more she realizes the plan is naive wishful thinking.

“We can't waste time, we need to get to Ashley.”

Luis nods at her comment, and gestures for her to follow him as they make their way to an opening on the floor, then kicks down the folded ladder that leads into the church hallways. He descends first after checking if no one is around, before Nora joins him with a trembling breath.

The place is as eerie as in the game. The upper level they have landed on is a mezzanine-like walkway that overlooks the ground floor of the chapel. Downstairs, rows of pews face a pulpit, and behind the latter is an illuminated, multicolored glass with the Los Illuminados symbol at its center. The insignia looks almost like the shape of an insect with its jagged, pointy lines reminiscent of the plaga itself. Nora shudders at the thought of that thing nesting inside human beings.

They need to get to Ashley fast.

Passing by the tall windows filtering moonlight that paints the stone walls silver, they come to a stop before the ornate door behind which the girl is kept. 

Luis reaches for the handle, when Nora suddenly stops him just to whisper a warning. “Um, you should probably stand back. Trust me.” 

He raises a quizzical brow, but mutters a small ‘vale’ nonetheless as he pushes open the door, keeping a safe distance.

Sure enough, a blurry swing of a candelabra flies right where his head would have been if he had not been warned. A blonde young woman comes into view, the makeshift weapon in her grasp held tight as she prepares to make another attempt.

“Wait, Ashley!” Nora interjects with hands held up in surrender. “Stop! We’re not here to hurt you, I promise!”

“Who are you?! Stay away!” she answers frantically, her green eyes wide in panic.

“You weren't kidding…” the man huffs, but then holds his palms up too in a display of peace.

“I’m Nora, and this is Luis. We're here to get you out, but we need to move out of here fast.”

Ashley gives them a wary look, though the way she focuses on the young woman indicates that perhaps the presence of another girl helps comfort her.

“Do you work for my father?” she asks in a small voice, slowly lowering the heavy candleholder.

Nora and Luis look at each other in an almost comical manner, the latter holding in a snicker to not to seem rude, before he settles on shaking his head.

“Definitely not.”

“But we’ll still help if you’ll let us,” Nora adds with a kind smile.

“O-okay… I just wanna go home, please.”

Finally cooperating, the three of them make their way back down the hallway in the direction of the ladder. Their footsteps come to a halt, however, when someone drops from the attic onto the stone floor with a thud.

Luis grins, a flash of relief passing through his stubbled features. “Oye, there's the yanqui! I have to say, you have some perfect timing, hermano.”

The yankee in question, Leon, straightens up as he takes in the sight before him. He has spent the last few hours in a headspace that can only be described as bad, and after debating with himself for a long while, he finally decided to resume his mission and save Ashley. 

But now, as he stands in front of the unexpected trio, his heart lurches in his chest when his eyes land on the young woman he had bent over his lap just hours prior. 

“Nora.”

Her whispered name on his lips feels like a lightning strike in her soul, the murmur so soft it sounds like a prayer. And, if his wide, desperate blues are anything to go by, it feels like one for him too.

Before she can decide whether to hide behind Luis or confront him for his cruel actions, the gates downstairs open with a loud creak.

The four of them turn their attention to the lower level where they can see a broad figure enter the nave with slow steps. When the latter stands between the pews, the kaleidoscope of stained glass colors illuminate his scarred face.

Krauser.

“What the…” Leon mutters with scrunched brows at the sight of his old mentor—someone he believed to be dead for over two years.

The resuscitated man does not appear to have noticed them, but his sharp, icy eyes scope the perimeter nevertheless. The bright red beret on his platinum blonde head and the tactical clothes on his shredded frame are reminiscent of his soldier days. If nothing else, the man is certainly stuck in the past.

Nora, panicked and confused, does not understand why he is here. He’s not supposed to appear in the story until much later when… he kills Luis. 

Oh, God, he must be here to do just that in search of that stupid amber.

Leon would be tempted to ask the major what he’s doing in this place, but the terrified look on the brunette's face is all the convincing he needs to understand the man is up to no good. He may have punished her for her knowledge before, but he knows better not to trust her at this point.

His training habits kick in, a surge of protectiveness in his chest as he crouches with a hiss, “get down.”

The other three follow when he leads the way to the ladder as silently as possible given the growing panic in the room. He can feel Ashley’s fear radiate off her when she moves beside Nora, subconsciously seeking companionship in her.

The agent’s gaze lands on the latter’s frog printed t-shirt. It's damp with rain water and stained with mud, and something about that bothers him more than he understands. She shouldn't be in this hellhole.

Before he can think it through, he gestures for her to climb the rungs first, forgoing his own mission’s prime objective of prioritizing his employer’s daughter.

Nora blinks at the sudden request, but she doesn't even address him when she turns to the blonde woman beside her. 

“You go first, Ashley.”

At that, Leon stands back with a tight chest and a locked jaw. He knows not to argue. 

Once the girl’s trembling form reaches the attic, Nora follows, and is then succeeded by Luis who gives the somber agent a wink on his way. They manage to all retreat into the roof space without too much noise, and hope Krauser is still oblivious to their presence as they reach the window.

“That's the man that k-kidnapped me,” Ashley whispers shakily.

Leon’s eyes widen at the revelation of his ex-commander’s involvement, and when Luis grabs the rope that was left dangling over the ledge, he interferes knowing the urgency of the situation.

“No time to waste. Jump.”

The Spaniard scoffs, and even in his nervous state chooses to argue, “it’s too high!”

“Fine. You stay here, then.” Leon doesn't spare him another word, glancing past his shoulder at the two women before dropping onto the terrace with a tuck and roll.

He stands up swiftly after, then looks up at Ashley who’s peering down at him in shock.

“Come on. I can catch you.”

“No way!”

Leon feels his nerves rise, but keeps his voice calm when he spreads his arms. “I’ve got you.”

The blonde girl looks back at the others standing beside her, and when they give her reassuring nods, she finally sits at the ledge, and lets herself plummet with a yelp.

As promised, the agent catches her with skill, and as he settles her down on the ground, her shoulders seem to relax at her safe touchdown.

“Shit, I think I just heard something,” Luis mutters to Nora standing beside him, turning his head in the direction of an echoing thud then back to her. “Your turn, quick.”

The woman feels her soul leave her body at the prospect of jumping in Leon’s arms. She begins to consider staying behind, but being undoubtedly annihilated by Jack Krauser does not sound like an easy way to go.

Still, she hesitates, finding it difficult to blindly trust the single person who has betrayed her the most just earlier in the day.

“I-I don’t—” she stammers.

From below, Leon’s face is contorted in a pathetically pleading expression. The idea of not being able to save her because she cannot trust him anymore suffocates him in dread. 

“Please,” he begs, his supplicating eyes boring into her fearful ones.

When Luis squeezes her shoulder in encouragement, she realizes she is risking his safety just as much as her own by stalling. So, eventually, she takes the literal leap of faith, and lets herself drop through the cold, night air.

Mid-fall, with her hands clutched to her chest, she wonders for a fraction of a second if she had made a mistake. After all, if this is the monster that humiliated her with his belt, what stops him from letting her fall to the hard floor?

The image of him looming over her with a cold expression as blood seeps from her cracked skull flashes through mind, just to be instantly shattered by her safe landing in his arms.

His secure grip around her shoulders and the backs of her knees feels like it's burning through her clothes despite the nearly freezing temperatures. His breathing is uneven when he peers down at her face, but she refuses to meet his gaze, or even acknowledge him whatsoever despite being cradled in his embrace.

Leon holds her for a second longer than necessary, before placing her down and backing away to allow her ample space. He can feel his arms tingle from the ghost of her shape, and finds himself wishing he could feel her for a moment longer.

“My turn,” Luis announces from above, calling his attention.

Whatever hazy thoughts swimming in the agent’s mind are discarded at the idea of catching the Spaniard, and he shakes his head with a scoff.

“Yeah, no, screw that.” 

“You wound me, Sancho,” the peering man answers with a smirk despite the serious situation. He then places his foot on the windowsill and jumps, landing with a pained grunt in a crouch. “Cabrón, that hurt.”

Leon doesn't wait for him to stand before leading the way again, motioning for the girls to climb down the tall dresser that stayed there from earlier. 

As he begins to descend as well once Ashley and Nora are situated on the ground, he can't help but grumble at Luis with a confused frown. 

“Who're you calling Sancho anyway?” 

“Well, you're saving the princesa, aren't you? Or I guess, in this case, two princesas,” the stubbled-man snickers as he follows.

Next chapter.