Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Among the cadets recruited by the US Strategic Command, there was one unspoken rule that became very plain very quickly; whenever Major Krauser smiled, someone was going to be in a world of hurt. Things were bloody and bruising enough as it was, but whenever someone mouthed off, or failed . . . hell, even when they succeeded, the Major would put on that toothy grin and then the gloves would really come off. 

Leon always managed to find himself on the opposite end of that smile, one way or another. Always wound up finishing the day with a little more black and blue on him than everyone else. 

It was making him angry. Angry enough that today, when the knife of the man Leon was fighting clattered to the ground and Krauser just smiled, Leon very much considered just getting a head start and rushing the Major then and there. Might as well, if it would save him some time and effort. 

“Well, well, rookie,” Krauser grinned, and Leon’s opponent took the opportunity to scoop the knife up from the dirt and get the hell out of dodge. Then, it was just Leon in the ring. Leon and the heat of the midday sun beating down on him, just as oppressive as Krauser’s damn smile. “Not half bad. But we all knew Kennedy was going to get the hang of this quick, didn’t we?” 

More smiles joined Krauser's as Leon's fellows grinned. They knew what was coming. Better Leon than them. 

“What do you say we give him a real challenge?” 

Leon braced himself. Angled himself towards Krauser, adjusted his grip on his knife. Even if the weapons weren’t edged he knew this was about to hurt, so he took a steadying breath. 

Then, Krauser turned his back to Leon and walked away. 

Was this a test? Should Leon attack him while his back was turned? Or was that just going to make whatever ass-kicking that was coming his way worse? He balanced on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do-

Another pair of boots against the dirt caught his attention, and where Major Krauser had stood, someone else now took his place. 

You took his place. 

Leon had seen you before. All of his fellow trainees had. He and the rest would watch your unit running drills sometimes, like first-year students staring wide-eyed at the seniors. You’d been here longer than he had. Trained with Krauser for longer. It showed in the way you moved, but mostly it showed in your eyes. 

For a moment, Leon was reminded of Raccoon City. Of that tall, unstoppable monstrosity that had stalked him that night. No hesitation, no fear.

You, like that thing, looked at Leon like he was a job to complete quickly. 

And you advanced on him just as quickly, even as Leon realized you didn’t have a knife on you. “Sir-” he almost got to voice his concern before it was stripped from him, just as you aimed to strip the knife from his hand. 

You almost did it, too. It was a quick move, just like Krauser taught him. Control the arm, the blade, then pry. Quick and efficient.

Leon was quick, too. He twisted free of your grip and shoved you away - a stupid misstep, he knew and the rest of the unit watching the fight knew it too. They all jeered at the move, and Leon bristled. Keep your opponent close, he could practically hear the Major’s voice. You aren’t using a fucking sword! You can’t hit them from that far away! 

But Leon preferred distance. Distance was safe. Distance meant that whatever horror was coming his way wouldn’t get the chance to rip a chunk out of him. To sink its teeth into his flesh. To turn him-

He glanced over to see if Krauser was watching. To see if he would comment on the mistake. 

Instead, his C.O. just watched, never losing that grin.

“Eyes on me!” You growled, and Leon listened. He locked all his focus on you, losing his concern for you being unarmed as he sized you up, ignoring the rogue strands of hair in his eyes. He could see what this was. Krauser was using this as a lesson for both you and him. One person armed with a blade, the other with more experience. 

The odds should have been against you, but for experience. Still, even with the advanced training you had over him, you remained just out of Leon’s reach. Watching. Waiting, just as he was.

“We gonna dance all day, or are we gonna do this?” Leon huffed, but you didn’t entertain him with an answer, or even a move.

You just remained where you were, your guard up and your jaw tight. 

“Not much of a dancer either, I guess.” 

He lunged, slashing at your stomach, right to left. You barely avoided it, exhaling sharply as the training knife cut the air an inch from your belly. He felt the touch of your hand, barely registering it as he went on pressing another attack. This one at your shoulder.

You moved your opposite hand, blocking and moving all at once, leaving no air for him to breathe in between. Control the arm, the blade- 

Your fingers worked quickly, but the kick you delivered to the back of his knee helped. Leon’s stance buckled, his eyes going wide as a yelp escaped him as he stopped himself from falling. His hold slipped as you pried his grip free, and then there was a knife at his throat and a pair of cold eyes looking down at him. Your focus didn’t waver. Not one inch. 

A moment passed as he looked up at you, his ears and cheeks growing hotter as frustration burned at him. Then, a little whoosh of air as you drew the knife away from him, let it spin effortlessly around your fingers until the handle was facing him. “Again.”

And again.

And again.

And again.

Over and over as Leon felt his energy waning. The other cadets must have hated him for taking so long. Or, maybe, they were thankful it was him taking your hits and not them. If you were pulling those hits, it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. Fists, feet and the dull blade of his own knife had met his skin hard over and over again, until Leon was sure that he would be a painting of his own failures in a few hours. You had the courtesy to avoid using that force on his face and neck, at least. He landed a few non-lethal hits and did his best to analyze what worked. How he got through your defenses. The trouble was, you did the same, and you did it a lot faster than he did. It could only have been a few minutes, but the cycle of defeat after defeat made it seem longer. Agonizingly, infuriatingly, longer. 

All the while, Krauser remained silent on the sidelines, watching. It was more unnerving than anything else, but Leon didn’t pay him much mind. No, he was in this until the end, and so help him, he was going to win. 

He bared his teeth as he stabbed forward, trying to keep himself focused. Measured. He’d faced worse than this. Everything in Raccoon City had been worse. You were just another person, like him. 

One who made mistakes, just like he did. 

Mistakes that, if he was honest with himself, he couldn’t quite pinpoint in the moment. All he knew was that he felt his knife connect hard with your side, scraping across your ribs, and he felt more vindicated than he had since he’d been recruited by STRATCOM. He even heard some of his fellow cadets give him a cheer for the blow. He smiled - really smiled - for the first time in what felt like months, happy just to have gotten one win in. 

Then he looked up at you and that smile died. The cold focus you’d been holding on to for the whole match had just been torn to shreds by the anger he now found himself staring at. 

Leon knew then that if he didn’t move fast, he was completely and utterly fucked. 

The moment it took for him to realize that was all the time you needed. 

As he tried to back away, your hands shifted, moving from the failed redirect you’d tried to set up and forming a cage the knife and his arm against your side. He tried to pull away, to escape, but you were faster, your hold true. His arm moved at your direction, up and over your head, pulling him forward-

Right into the kick you pushed into his gut, one that landed hard enough to make him almost lose his lunch, his vision blurring as the air escaped from his lungs with a pathetic sound. He was vaguely aware that he wasn’t holding the knife anymore. 

Then pain exploded from his face, and he only realized you’d backhanded him as he was spun by its force, seeing the controlled follow-through out of the corner of his eye. 

Skin scraped against the dirt as Leon just barely caught himself, his head still reeling from it all. He blinked, scrambling to get up as he saw red. He’d taken hits like that before, that wasn’t the problem. The problem, far as he was concerned, was the fact that you’d done it in a sparring match. A test of equals. The problem was that Krauser had set him up for failure, pitting Leon against you. The problem was that he was in this fucking spec ops training in the first place. The problem was that he’d been made to choose between his freedom and that of a child, and now-

The weight of your knee against his back forced him down but made his anger rush to the surface. He thrashed, trying to get you off of him. Trying to apply what knowledge Krauser had instilled in him. Instead, he cried out in pain as your hand found his hair, pulling his head up by it while you pinned the rest of him to the ground. Cold steel slid in across his throat, the chill burning him as surely as his anger did. 

“Hold!” Krauser. Finally. 

Leon saw the Major step forward just as you released your hold on him. For a moment, he thought you might push his head into the dirt for good measure. Wouldn’t put it past you. He counted himself lucky when the knife moved away from him and your weight shifted. 

Then, your hand was in front of him, open. An offer for help. 

It was petty, Leon knew it, but he snarled up at you and slapped your hand away. He didn’t see the frown that crossed your face after. Didn’t care to.

“Pretty sad showing, rookie,” Krauser observed, circling where Leon was now pushing himself up from the ground. Leon thought he knew the tirade that was coming next, but today was a day for surprises. “And you-” he turned his gaze towards where you stood at attention, and Leon paused when he saw the expression you wore now. Eyes downcast, mouth curved into a frown. “What do you think is my problem with what I just saw you do?” 

You swallowed, that hardened focus slipping. “I shouldn’t have hit him like that, sir.” 

Krauser shook his head, considering your words. Then there was a flash of steel as he drew his own knife, moving towards you faster than you could avoid. You raised Leon’s knife, still held in your hand, but it wasn’t enough to stop Krauser from resting the flat of his blade over your ribs. Right where Leon had managed to land his hit. You flinched, your eyes flaring in a panic before settling again. 

“My problem, Sergeant, is that you were too slow.” 

Your jaw tightened, and you nodded. “I’ll do better next time, sir.” You sounded so small. How could you sound so small when only a moment ago you’d pinned Leon to the earth? When you’d seemed so unstoppable? 

You were dismissed without fanfare, and you did not say a word in protest. When you passed Leon, you spared him the briefest of glances as you slapped the knife flat against his chest. Shame was what you wore, now, poorly hidden and almost all-consuming, it seemed. Leon didn’t get long to analyze it before you were gone, his own anger now culled back by concern. Misplaced concern. 

He shouldn’t give a damn, not after the treatment you gave him. You had thoroughly beaten him in almost every way. One failure was enough to upset you so much . . .

Krauser went on with his instruction and Leon turned his attention back to the Major, trying to ignore the spreading pain across his cheek and the spreading curiosity in his head.

“Don’t worry, rookie,” Krauser chuckled, gesturing to Leon’s face. “Bruises are the best teachers.”

Chapter Text

You had almost forgotten what it was to be a fuckup. You had never been a perfect soldier, by any means, but lately you had been feeling like a competent one again. STRATCOM was kicking the living shit out of you, but you had felt like you were finally cresting the mountain, getting it to a manageable level of daily pain. 

Should have known better than to let yourself get too comfortable. Krauser always noticed when any of you got comfortable.

Your shame and the memory of steel against your side weighed on you the rest of the day, through the training and meals and even into your hour of personal time. An hour that you dedicated to running the drills that Krauser had taught you, trying to clear your head before lights out. 

It only partially worked, and the night was too long and too short all at the same time. When you finally got to sleep, you dreamed of snow and blood, and when you woke the next morning, you felt brittle. Breakable. The dog tags around your neck felt heavy, and you fought the urge to take them off. 

It pissed you off something fierce, so as the day’s training began, you pushed yourself hard, turning that shame into gasoline, letting it burn in your chest. Every shot you fired at the range, every extra millisecond it took to disassemble your weapon was another spark to the blaze. It burned and burned, until lunch time came, and you glimpsed another reason to regret your performance yesterday. 

“Looks like Krauser kicked the shit out of Pretty Boy.” One of your fellows, Valeria, snickered. Her eyes were fixed across the tables, her voice loud enough to carry just as far. Those who cared for gossip looked at who she spoke of, and with the heaviness in your gut, you couldn’t help but join them. 

He’d bruised. That ridiculous haircut of his fell on the wrong side of his face to hide the shiner that was forming across the rookie’s cheek, creeping up to just beneath his eye. Right where your fist had connected the day before. Seeing it made you feel, quite simply, like a piece of shit. It wasn’t the first time you’d given someone a mark in training. Wouldn’t be the last. Still, when he felt all those eyes on him and looked up, you couldn’t help but feel that you’d kicked a puppy. He couldn’t have been that much younger than you, but there was just something about those ocean eyes that deepened the pit of regret in your stomach. That only got worse when your own eyes met his. You thought he’d look away quickly. 

Instead, you found yourself surprised as the bruised cadet held your gaze, just the way he had when his guard had been up yesterday, before you’d knocked him to the ground.

“Wasn’t the Major,” Alejandro, another of your peers, corrected Valeria. Then, you felt the energy around the tables shift and you took your eyes off the kid you’d injured and looked instead at the man speaking. “Way I heard it,” he gave you a wolf grin, lifting a cup of water towards you in a toast, “it was our Sergeant, over here.” 

Murmurs swept around you, and you did your best to hide your grimace.

“Beating up babies now, huh?” Someone jabbed. You almost struck back. He put up more of a fight than you ever have was right at the tip of your tongue. A few years ago, you would have hurled the insult with abandon. Pull the pin and toss. Now . . . well, with the shit sleep you had and the general less-than-ideal way you felt, you just went back to eating your meal. If the scop they served could be called that. 

The rest of the recruits had their fun - as much of it as could be had before they realized you weren’t giving them anything to work with. You, in the meantime, just sank back into your own spiral of thoughts. 

You shouldn’t have hit him like that. Krauser was right, you shouldn’t have been tagged in the first place, but you didn’t make things better for yourself with a cheap shot. 

You’d just felt that knife against you and . . . and then you’d fucked up. You’d brought your own shit into the fight, made it someone else’s problem. Let yourself get scared by a fucking practice knife. It was stupid. 

It was stupid, and you wanted to put it behind you.

You finished your food quickly. Wasn’t anything to savor, anyway. Then, you stood, bringing your empty tray with you as you marched towards him. He was sitting by himself, and you were grateful that no one would be directly privy to this conversation. He had stopped looking at you, but your movement drew some quick glances from him. Even in those glimpses, he met you with a sharpness. That only grew as you approached, and more of his attention turned to you. Inquisitorial came to mind, one of those damn SAT words that you remembered, god knows why. He looked like he was trying to figure you out. 

He had grit, you had to give him that. 

Made you wonder what his life was like before this. Made you wonder about a lot of things. Mostly, though, you wondered-

“What’s your name?”

He looked surprised that you were asking. His expression said 'What the hell are you doing?'

You wanted to ask yourself the same thing. 

Instead, you waited that second or two before he answered. 

“Uh, Kennedy.” 

“I know. Krauser said that yesterday. I meant your first name.” 

Another pause, and you saw the gears turning in his head. “. . . Leon.” 

You nodded. Pointed to his cheek. “Sorry about that, Leon. You got me. Shouldn’t have been such a dick about it.” 

The recruit - Leon - blinked. His blue eyes moved away from you for a moment. Considering what to say. Then, he shook his head. “No, it’s . . .” if he said fine, you already knew that it would be a lie. He’d been pissed yesterday when you did it, and you couldn’t blame him. “It’s fine.” 

There it was. Liar. A polite liar. 

“No, it’s not. I was an asshole. Shouldn’t have happened.” 

He looked at you, confused, and you understood it well enough. Then, that sharpness about him turned to something a little brighter. Cautiously optimistic. “You said it, not me.” 

“I did.” Again, you nodded. There. Apology delivered, time for you to move on. 

You made it a step before Leon spoke again. “Thank you. For the apology.” 

Oh, he was not the sort of person you would expect to be here. 

STRATCOM was full of plenty of characters, but most of them fell into a very defined military mold. Grizzled old bastards, arrogant hotshots . . . some liked to talk shit, but most just stayed in their own lanes. You’d come to expect no great affection; they were here to do a job, same as you. 

Looking at Leon now, though, you found someone who looked genuinely, truly grateful. It took no special insight to imagine why. The training for the US Strategic Command was not and never would be the hardest thing you’d done in life, but it ground you down. It was a pressure cooker, and everyone felt it every second of every day. Krauser was a good teacher, but he was the sort who would push you to your breaking point. Beat you down so you never forgot when and how you showed a weakness. He had long warned that there would be no mercy in the real world, so he trained you without it. So, you knew that when Leon looked at you like that, it was because any kindness shown here was a rarity.

“Don’t mention it,” you said back. Here, in the midst of training for the worst of scenarios, on this most shitty of days, it felt nice to be not only forgiven, but maybe even appreciated. That little feeling stopped you from leaving so quickly, and you stepped towards the recruit once more. “And also: use smaller arm movements.”

“What?”

“In our fight,” you clarified, “that’s how I could tell where you were going to go. You were telegraphing everything.” 

Leon almost smiled. It looked good on him. “Krauser told me the same thing yesterday. After.” 

“Well, he’s right.” 

“I’ll keep it in mind.” 

“Good.” 

The interaction was awkward, and you, for one, never wanted to do it again. Still, that was a better feeling to focus on than the crushing guilt you’d been stuck under all morning. You readily embraced it as you went into afternoon drills, glad you could at least make good on one of your mistakes. 

As for the others . . . well, those were the ones you clung to as you and Valeria circled each other later, knives flashing in the midday sun.

Chapter Text

Two figures were waiting for Leon’s squad when the time came for close quarters drills a week later. One bulky man in a red beret, and the other . . . well, part of him had expected to see you again. 

Your presence at Krauser’s side set murmurs throughout the squad - the men and women training alongside Leon taking every opportunity to talk before they got into formation. “Looks like the Sergeant came back for seconds,” one of them said, and Leon felt the attention turn to him for a moment. They all probably imagined he would be getting a matching bruise on the other cheek. Maybe even a touch up on the now fading original. 

Even with the apology you’d given him, Leon knew by the look in your eyes that any fighting you did today would be without mercy. You were just as you had been on that first day - focused and determined. Something told him that there would be no slip of that mask, this time. 

He felt more than a little vindicated when Krauser announced what today’s exercise would be. 

“You know, boys, I was promised the best and brightest Uncle Sam had to offer. You can imagine my disappointment when I was settled with you lot.” The Major shook his head, stepping forward. “Weeks of training, and you’ve all got shit to show for it, and you know what? It’s my fault.” Not a good sign to hear Krauser admit his fault in something. “I had you fighting each other all this time. Letting you teach each other your mistakes.” He motioned you forward, and you obeyed, eying all the recruits in front of you. Your gaze, cold as steel, spared Leon no extra moments of attention. “Williams.” Krauser pointed to the first cadet in line. “Arm yourself. Then you’re up.” 

It wasn’t just going to be Leon, this time. The young recruit didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse. What he was sure of was that he and his fellows would have bruises by the end of the day. 

Leon just watched, doing all he could to prepare himself as Williams took up a knife and stepped up to you. Leon had fought her before. She’d trained with the army, just like most of the other recruits here had. Just as you had, if your rank was any indication. She was tall, broad shouldered and strong to match. She’d been one of the better fighters in their unit since day one. It didn’t end up mattering. Again, you began the fight unarmed and again you had your opponent’s knife in a matter of seconds. Williams inhaled sharply as you bent her wrist inward, taking the knife and resting it at her throat in one clean motion. 

“And that right there is what I’m talking about,” Krauser shook his head. “Step back, Williams, before you embarrass yourself more. Alenko!” 

Krauser pointed to the next recruit in line, and Leon knew what was coming next. Ten recruits, himself included. Ten recruits, ten fights, and he was third to last. 

“But sir-” Williams tried, but Krauser silenced her. 

“You’re dead. Dead people don’t get to fight.” Leon wished that were true. Wondered if Krauser knew how ironic a statement that was. “Back in formation.” 

Williams listened, and Alenko took her place. Down the line you went, tearing your way through Leon’s unit, one at a time. All he could do was watch and wait, trying to analyze. To look for a weakness, or something he could use. Patterns, favored sides, anything. 

As he searched, in those quick exchanges before you found your victory, he realized fully what he was up against. He knew from your first fight that you were skilled but watching it from the outside . . . he’d only ever seen Major Krauser move like that. You looked invincible, even when you made missteps. Even when a knife came too close and your eyes flashed, or with the way your breathing was coming faster with every opponent, Leon could only think that nothing would stop you. It was impressive in a way that made his throat feel dry and his heart beat faster.

Still, he'd gotten you once before. He could do it again.

“Kennedy!” 

It wasn’t about winning, it was about learning. That was the point of this. Leon had to remember that. 

Smaller arm movements. 

He’d been practicing, but he knew you had been, too. He’d seen you in the yard in your off hours, or at the firing range. It seemed like you lived for nothing but this - and whatever your reasons, your work had paid off.  

Stepping up against you made him feel heavy. Grounded. Like your razor-edged focus was seeping into him. There was no sign of familiarity between the two of you, no indication that you had sought him out to apologize. Just a little tilt of your head, one that Leon understood well enough. 

Your move. 

Keeping his arms close, his knife low, Leon weighed his options. The guard you stood in left your hands up, ready to defend. Leaving your lower body open for attack. Your left leg was forward. 

Leon moved, his knife a line of silver through the air, poised to hit your leg. You stepped back, your left arm moving. Your hand met his forearm, guiding the knife away from you. Leon let the motion happen, the momentum of it making what he planned next easier. You wanted smaller movements, you would get them. 

He twisted the knife, angling its blade back so that it would slash across your forearm. It was the smallest movement he could manage, and delivered with a speed that was too much for you to avoid. As you saw what was happening and moved your hand away, Leon felt the dull edge meet your skin. It was just a scrape, but the attack had worked. 

He knew better than to think one scratch would mean a win. It wouldn't be a victory against any of his fellow recruits, and it damn sure wouldn't be a victory against you. 

Knife moving fast, he slashed up at your arm. You blocked, moving back. Another slash, another block. Each one, he felt himself getting closer to his target- 

He realized why all too late as you moved, your arm coming up and over his own and trapping him against your body. He felt his arm extend, edging close to the point of pain as you moved, your free hand coming to his shoulder. Eyes wide, Leon tried to move back, his free hand reaching for something, some hail mary attack he could get to. In the end, with you just out of reach, Leon could only fight to remain upright as you used his arm to pull him down. 

It was a fight that he lost, and for the second time, he was forced to the ground face-first, your weight and the now painful hold you kept on his arm keeping him down. 

And just like that, it was over. Krauser called the next name, and Leon was done. 

It was stupid to let the frustration get to him, but it crept in from under the floorboards anyway. At least, it did, until just before you released your hold on him, Leon heard your voice. “Better.” It was all you said, and it was spoken so quietly he almost missed it. Still, it was enough. Then you let his arm go and stood, your weight being gone letting him move. 

A hand, one with bruised and scraped knuckles, was offered to him. This time, Leon took it, offering you a grateful look as you pulled him to his feet. He stood just in time to see you tucking your dog tags back beneath your shirt. 

Three tags. Not two. 

There was no opportunity to question what he’d seen. He fell back into formation, just as another recruit took his place against you. 

The remaining fights were quick, just as Leon’s had been. One ended with a knife flying towards the line Leon and the others were in before you twisted your opponent’s hand behind their back. The final fight, however close the knife came to your throat, was over when you took the practice knife from the man you fought and drove it into his gut. He grunted in pain, and Krauser barked “Hold!” 

You were at attention in a split second, the practice knife still in your hand. Krauser stepped forward, his lips pulled tight into a smirk. 

“Well, that was a damn tragedy to watch.” No one laughed, all of them either too furious at getting their asses handed to them, or knowing better than to interrupt the Major in any way. “All armed, one after another, and the Sergeant still wiped the floor with you.” He almost sounded proud of you. That pride was gone as soon as it came, as Krauser took a more serious tone. “I promise you, whatever you find yourselves up against won’t be as forgiving as our Sergeant, here. You think you’re all ready for that? You think you can afford to be sloppy when you’re in the thick of it?” 

Leon’s throat tightened, and he remembered that night. He remembered the monstrosities he’d fought, all the times teeth had nearly ripped into his throat, or a claw had just barely missed his belly. He had been lucky. He wouldn’t always be.  

He had to be ready.

“I was going to have us run drills, but now? Now I think running is the only thing you would be good for in a fight.” 

Leon knew what that meant. So did everyone else in line, if the shift in energy was any indication. The march was miserable, but they always were. This one just had an overtone of shame and anger to it. Some were angry with Krauser, whispering that he was just a prick, that he was trying to scare them. 

They didn’t know what was waiting for them when they were done with this training. Some of them might have heard the rumors or heard from a second-hand account what happened in Raccoon City. They hadn’t been there. They hadn't had the light drained from young, bright eyes like he had. Like Claire had. Sherry. Youth and childhood taken from them all in one night. These soldiers hadn't seen what he'd seen, or survived what he'd survived. 

If they wouldn’t prepare, then Leon would. So others wouldn't have to suffer what he and Claire and Sherry had suffered. That was what he resolved himself to do as he trudged on, the weight of the pack on his shoulders nothing next to the weight of what he had seen. 

He would prepare, and he knew just how to start.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t the first time you’d felt the heat of angry stares on your back. When dinner time came and Leon’s unit returned from their ruck, many of them zeroed in on the reason for their hours of misery. Some of them muttered curses at you, but most just looked on, well and truly pissed off. For your part, you didn’t mind the anger. You understood it, even. You’d been on the receiving end of Krauser’s little unorthodox drills, just as well as the punishments he dealt out for not doing well enough. So, as the now drained recruits filed in to take their seats at the tables, you didn’t hold their hot iron glares against them. They would learn soon enough that it was all for their own good.

You did wonder if Leon would share their animosity, but you only had to wonder for a moment. 

“Sergeant?” He sounded exhausted, and as you turned to face him, you found that he looked it, too. His hair - still absurd, as far as you were concerned - was plastered to his forehead and his shirt was darkened by sweat around the collar. There was still some redness to his face, and it made the fading bruise you’d given him stand out all the more. Krauser had run them hard, the Major’s disappointment written on him like a book. 

Even so, tired and tenacious were at war behind his eyes as he looked at you. You knew that look. You’d seen it in the mirror often enough. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” He asked, surprising you right off the bat. 

No one really asked that. Not here. You weren’t over fond of any of your squad mates, nor were they over fond of you. Still, you all shared bunkhouses and long hours of work, so you had long since stopped asking people if it was alright to sit by them at mealtimes. You just sat, ate, sometimes talked, and that was that. 

Still, you shook your head. “Spot’s open.” 

Leon nodded and climbed over the bench, settling in across from you. He didn’t even have a tray of food with him yet. “I wanted to say thanks for the-” he paused, trying to think of the right word. “Well, for the advice.” 

There was that graciousness again, almost endearing. Almost. Was this really what he came to you for? To say thank you? You couldn’t imagine that was the case. Not after he had just gotten back from a forced march for not taking you down. Still, you weren’t such a bastard to completely rebuff a little kindness.  

“Like I said, you did better this time.” 

That made him almost-smile again, something stopping him just short of it. “Better, sure. But I still got my ass handed to me.” 

“You’ll do a lot of that before you’re any good.” Especially if Krauser had anything to say about it. 

“I know,” Leon nodded. “That’s what I wanted to ask you about.” Something made a knot form along his brow, and the weathered look in his eyes didn’t match the boyish youth of his face. “I know I’m not where I’ll need to be. I want to be better, and I’ve seen you in the training yard after hours.” There was a respect in his voice that you had not heard from anyone in . . . well, in a long time. And his eyes, bright blue, softened to something more hopeful as he finally got to the real reason he’d joined you at the table. “I wanted to ask if I could have you teach me what you know? When you have time.” 

Ah. You supposed you should have guessed this was where this was going. Practice was the biggest reason you interacted with your own squad, after all. You were here for training, same as them. There was no reason to look for comfort in company that might be dead within the year. Best way to delay that death was through practice. Leon must have taken Krauser’s words to heart. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was just trying to win some brownie points with the Major. Be the goodie-goodie that you suspected he had been before all this.

The tightness of his voice, though, told you that there was more to it than that. He was asking because he wanted to be ready for what was out there. It was something you understood better than anyone, something you were reminded of every night when you closed your eyes. 

Was it just Krauser’s threats of peril that spurred Leon to be better? Or was it something else? You’d seen the way he tensed when the Major spoke of what he might face. 

Had Leon noticed your own eyes going unfocused during that speech? The way your nostrils flared and your brow furrowed? 

You'd agreed to be here to stop exactly what Krauser had been talking about. Even if you didn't want to be close with your fellow soldiers, you wanted them to be able to do their jobs well. You wanted them to live as long as they could against what was out there. Leon Kennedy, with his sad eyes and kind heart, was no exception. If anything, you couldn't help but think that if you wanted anyone to outlast the rest of you, it should be him. 

“Even if it’s just us sparring, it would help,” Leon went on. “And I understand if you don’t want to-”

You cut him off before he could continue. “We’ll start tonight. After dinner.” 

His eyes widened for just a moment, and that determined look was back. He looked like he wasn’t too surprised that you said yes, and that bothered you a bit, for whatever reason. Maybe you’d been too familiar, giving him the advice in the first place. 

“Thank you,” he said, and you just shook your head. 

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ve never taught anyone anything before.” It was less an excuse, more a fair warning. Still, Leon wasn’t about to be deterred, if his expression was any indication. 

“I think I’ll learn a lot from you, anyway.” 

Optimism. There was another thing that wasn’t common around the base. Again, you found yourself puzzling over Leon Kennedy, wondering just how a man like him ended up in a place like this. More than that, you wondered what the rest of the world would do to him. Would it change him the way it changed you? Or had it already begun that brutal work? 

Would you play a part in breaking that optimism? 

“‘Bruises are the best teachers’.” You repeated the words Krauser had so often spoken to you, knowing Leon would recognize them too. He had to know that you weren’t going to hold back. He wouldn’t learn anything that way. You certainly hadn’t. It had taken bruises and bloody noses to get you to where you were now, and it would take the same for Leon. 

He took a breath, resolving himself as he nodded. “I’m sure you’ll give me plenty of them. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even give you a few, some day.” It was said with a muted humor. 

Gracious. Optimistic. Smart mouth. Another trait to add to the list. One that almost made you laugh. Instead, you just raised a brow, deadpanning through his joke. 

“If you haven’t, I’ll have done a shit job.” 

“Guess that’s true,” Leon agreed. He let a quiet moment expand between the two of you before he nodded and stood. “I’ll meet you in the training yard, then?” 

You nodded, silently grateful that he wouldn’t be spending the whole dinner with you. You felt like an asshole for it, but you were grateful all the same. Conversation was a skill that you had not been practicing much of, lately. It let you focus on other things. With Leon, though . . . it seemed there would be a fair bit of conversing to be done. 

He proved that much when he stopped himself from walking away, just as you had a week before. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours. Your first name,” he clarified, and you almost laughed at the feeling of deja vu. What goes around did, in fact, come around. 

So, you gave him your name quickly, getting it over and done with like you were taking a shot of cheap tequila before you were allowed. There was no warm feeling to follow it, though. No giddiness or satisfaction. Just the feeling that you were getting yourself into something that maybe you shouldn’t. When Leon repeated your name back to you with a little smile, like he liked the way it sounded, that feeling only got worse. 

Like tequila indeed. 

⧫⧫⧫

The weight of the practice knife in your hand felt good. Comforting. You found a twisted bit of peace as you spun it between your fingers, switching your grip back and forth, making the steel dance to the song coming from the radio in the officer’s bunkhouse. It was some bluegrass tune, one that you paid little attention to next to the blade you tossed up in the air. You let it rotate a full three-sixty before its handle smacked back into your palm. Get to know your weapon. Strangers don’t make for strong allies. Someone told you that, once. In another life. He’d been talking about guns, but you imagined the same applied to knives, too. 

So, you liked to assess the balance. The weight. Didn’t always get the chance to, especially in training, but when you had a spare moment, you liked to get lost in these little ministrations. At first, with the knives, it felt like you were playing with fire. Now, you enjoyed getting to know the weapons you used. It felt easier - safer - than getting to know the people around you. 

Weapons didn’t die the same way people did. They were better to know, in the long run. 

Leon didn’t seem to share that opinion. “Krauser teach you all of those tricks?” he asked, watching as you tossed your knife once more, this time catching it in a reverse grip. He chose a practice knife of his own and rolled his shoulders back, no doubt feeling the pain of lugging so much gear on such a long hike earlier that day. 

“Picked them up myself,” you answered honestly, though you had seen the Major fiddling with his own knife in the same way. Seemed he liked to be comfortable with his weapons, too. 

“Before? You were in the military, right?” 

It was like he could read your thoughts - like he knew that you were thinking about another time and another place. One where you thought you knew the worst that the world had to offer, and your training was just a difficult distraction. There was no way he could have known, but his question pinched your mouth into a frown all the same. 

He realized he’d said something wrong. “I just assumed, with your rank, you were-”

“I was Army,” you nodded. “Now, get your guard up.” You weren’t interested in sharing stories. At least with your own squad, everyone understood that. Valeria might talk, but it was always a distraction. Always her trying to get an edge in some way. Alejandro just went straight for the throat, sometimes before you even had a knife in your hand. 

You got the feeling that working with Leon would be an adjustment. Still, he listened to your order, bringing his own knife up and bending a little at the knees. His stance was good - Krauser had likely drilled that knowledge into him and every other recruit on base. The Major made everything seem life or death, even the way a person stood. He was right for being so attentive, you knew. It made for soldiers that knew exactly what they were doing. He'd perfected his teaching style over years, and you had no doubt that was why he'd been chosen to instruct the STRATCOM recruits. He got results. As for you . . . well, in the brief time between dinner and this moment, you’d thought a lot about how to approach this attempt at teaching. In the end, you just realized that you had no idea what you were doing. Was it as simple as spotting errors and giving notes? Krauser didn’t make it seem that way. None of your earlier instructors did. With them, it was all about learning from experience. 

So, ultimately, you’d decided that you would give Leon experience. 

You gave Leon no time to prepare before you moved, switching the knife to your left hand. You didn’t give yourself a spare moment to feel guilty for surprising him, either. 

Three moves. That was all it took. A slash to his undefended leg, then up to his arm, then across the belly when he moved to block. You felt the knife drag along his shirt and the skin beneath it and heard him curse under his breath as he retreated away from you. He hadn’t been ready, but then no one was ever really ready to have a knife swing at them. You knew that all too well. 

“Didn’t realize we’d started,” Leon said, keeping away from you, now. In your previous fights, he’d been the only one with a weapon. Now, he seemed hyper-aware of the danger he was faced with. 

“You don’t always get a warning,” you said simply, and then you were coming after him again. It wasn’t fair, and you knew it. Leon looked overwhelmed each time you approached, like he was trying to remember what to do with every swing you took. Still, something in you pushed you onward, your heart going from thundering behind your ribs to feeling absent altogether, just as it always did when you were faced down with a blade. You knew you were being a little cruel, and you tried to stop it just as much as Leon tried to stop your blade from meeting his flesh. In the end, his best defense seemed to become falling back, keeping himself out of reach of your blade. He wasn’t really attacking, and when he did try for one, it would end up swinging just out of reach of you. He was getting frustrated, you could see it. 

“You won’t hit anything from over there,” you observed, finally collecting yourself for a moment enough to actually think of something to say. 

Leon, breathing heavily, shook his head, keeping his knife up. “I can’t hit anything anyway,” he said, and you could hear the frustration creeping in. Another few swings, and again he backed away. He was getting sluggish, the long day catching up with him. Part of you insisted that he’d had enough, that even a little practice was better than nothing. 

That part of you was held under the water by the hard lessons you’d learned. It wouldn’t matter if he was tired out there. It wouldn’t matter how much punishment you or he had already taken. 

He knew it too, you could see it in his eyes. He looked nearly ready to give up, but you watched him grip his knife tighter. 

You took a step closer, and he stood his ground. Another, and even if his nostrils flared and his eyes began to search for your next move, he remained. Then you lunged. He went to block your slash, he missed, and your knife smashed hard against his knuckles. 

“Fuck!” Leon hissed, the pain crossing his face betraying the effort it took for him to hold onto his knife. The distraction was enough for you to move, your free hand trapping his knife against his stomach while your own blade stabbed forward. You stopped the point from running too hard into his chest, just where his heart was beating beneath. 

He was about to move back but stopped short. He knew it wouldn’t matter. If it were a real fight, he would have an inch of steel in his heart and that would be that. Being so close to him, you could see the shame in his eyes. The anger, whether it was meant for you or himself you couldn’t say. 

How many times could this boy make you feel guilty for doing what you were trained to do? 

You stepped away from him, releasing his hand and lowering your own weapon. You crossed your arms, letting the steel of your blade rest flat against your side. Feeling it against your ribs grounded you, let you think. You didn’t get far into those thoughts before Leon clenching and unclenching his fist caught your eye. 

“Nothing broken?” you asked, knowing that the odds of that were low. Still, best to be sure. It would make you feel better. 

Leon shook his head, still frowning as he answered. “No. Just stings.” 

You nodded, realizing that you might be done for the night. Leon certainly looked like he was fed up with losing. You were given a few moments of silence before Leon spoke again, his voice small as he flexed his hand. 

“You make it look easy.” He was trying not to sound discouraged, but he wasn’t doing a good job of it. 

In that moment, you were reminded of a STRATCOM recruit that had arrived not so long ago. One who flinched away whenever a knife was brought up against them. One that had that fear beaten out of them. You didn’t want to have to do that to Leon. Didn’t know if it was your place to. But then, it worked for you, didn’t it? 

“It wasn’t always easy,” you admitted, looking over at him with as soft an expression as you could manage. “It still isn’t some days. That’s why we train.” 

“Can’t imagine you ever struggling with this,” Leon huffed, like he really didn’t believe you. 

“I do. We all do. But the more you practice, the easier it gets.” 

“I know.” He switched his knife to his other hand, looking back up at you like a man resigned to his fate. “So, any other notes?” 

He just kept finding ways to surprise you. 

“Still need to watch your movements. And you can attack with more than just your knife.” 

“Yes, sir,” he nodded, and you wished that you knew how to be a better teacher. Still, you knew how to fight. Maybe that would be enough.

You noticed the way his legs shook a bit as he dropped into a ready stance. You knew then that he wouldn’t let the fatigue stop him. A mad man after your own heart, then. 

You raised your own weapon. “Ready?” 

He tilted his head a bit before he responded. “I thought you didn’t give warnings.” 

That distant radio began to play something with a bit more swing, and the dance began again. 

Chapter Text

The training was catching up to him. 

Every day was harder than the last, every lesson delivered with the weight of hard truths. Leon’s body ached, and his mind . . . well, at least he had something else to focus on than the past. 

It was easier when he was with you. 

Both of you had seen a lot of each other over the last week, and not only because the two of you continued to train together most nights during off hours. Krauser had you come back to fight his squad again, and to no one’s surprise, you’d wiped the floor with all of them. Leon hadn’t lasted long against you, but you’d pulled him aside later and told him that he was faster than last time. Those little compliments were rare from you, but each time Leon received one, it was a balm to the long days of painful training. It wasn’t much, but he would take what little comfort he could get where he could find it. He never imagined he would find any of that comfort from you, the soldier who seemed unstoppable and cruel when he first met you. 

He owed many of the bruises that covered his skin to you, but he owed you the victories he had managed to find against his fellow recruits as well. He owed you the little moments where he was sure that, despite not choosing this life, he was at least moving in the right direction with it. 

He’d come to like you, despite your reserved demeanor. You didn’t need to be a summer friend he could share drinks and laughs with - however much he would appreciate that. Knowing that you were trying to help him was enough, however distant you could be. 

It reminded him of . . . well, he didn’t like to think of who it reminded him of. 

You and Ada were worlds apart, after all, and he wanted to keep it that way in his head. You weren’t some mysterious woman whose every emotion was kept hidden or turned into a weapon. You were stoic, yes, but you so often telegraphed how you were feeling without meaning to. He’d seen it when he would get just a little too close with a knife move, or when your comrades would say something across the lunch tables, and you’d roll your eyes. He saw it now, as he dragged his sore body towards the training yard, grateful for the evening sun being gentle with him after the long day he’d had. 

He knew not to expect such gentleness in sparring with you.

You were waiting for him as you always were, spinning a knife in either hand, your eyes downcast until you heard his footsteps. You looked like you were listening to the bunkhouse radio, playing loud through the walls like it always did at this hour. Leon couldn’t tell if the displeased look on your face was because of the music or something else. 

“Not a bluegrass fan?” he asked as he approached, and you just shrugged. 

He could tell that you were just as tired as he was. Your eyes looked a little distant, and there were more than a few new bruises forming along your arms. The two of you were in a similar state, then. 

“After a week of it, I just wish he'd pick a different radio station,” you said. 

You were serious, Leon was sure of that, but that didn’t make it any less funny to him. He cracked a little smile. “So, what kind of music would you pick?” 

The answer he got was a look of impatience. Ah well. He didn’t expect small talk, but he would try sometimes, anyway.

And just like that, the two of you fell into step. Knives moving against each other, hands rushing to block or usher the promise of death along its way. It was so different from fighting the undead of Raccoon City. He hadn’t dared to touch them, unless there was no other choice. Even when he’d gotten into the guts of the city and faced worse and worse abominations, he had never felt like there was any give and take to their exchanges. It was all a desperate scramble for survival on his part. With this . . . 

Gravity seemed to falter as Leon realized you’d kicked one of his legs out from under him. He hit the ground hard, and only realized that you’d taken his knife from him when he went to counter your finishing move. 

You stopped just short of his throat, but disappointment sunk into his flesh all the same. He’d gotten distracted. It wasn’t the first time, and that only made it worse. 

He took the hand you offered, but avoided your eyes as you helped him up. It didn’t stop him from feeling them on him all the while. 

Another exchange went by too quickly, and his mind felt like it was two steps behind. You moved in close and all he could think was get back get back get back get back and then he was met with steel against his belly. 

He’d been getting better. You’d said so. He’d felt it. Why was this so difficult now? 

By the look in your eye, Leon could tell that you were asking yourself the same thing. 

“You didn’t train with knives before this, did you?” The question was just another blow to a pride that was already face down in the dirt. The only saving grace was that there was no judgment in your voice. You simply wanted to know. Even so, Leon frowned, finally looking back up at you as he shook his head. 

“No.” 

You didn’t seem surprised. “But you’ve been in fights with them before, haven’t you?” It wasn’t so much a question as an observation, and it took Leon aback. It was an odd assumption to make, especially considering you and he had spoken little of your pasts. In fact, you’d never asked about his past at all, until now. 

And you sounded so sure of yourself. So certain that you knew what he’d been up against. No one knew. At least, no one beyond the Commanding Officers and the shadowy government agents that had overseen his recruitment. Once he’d arrived here, well, he had already been the odd one out, a cop in a squad of trained army soldiers. He didn’t want the attention of his past any more than he’d wanted to be forced into STRATCOM in the first place. 

So, as you looked at him like you knew all the answers, Leon felt himself get a little angry. 

“Not against knives, no.” It was more than he meant to give away, and as soon as he spoke it, he wanted to grab the words out of the air and bury them out back where no one would find them. He could only hope that you wouldn’t dig deeper. 

And even if you didn’t ask, he could feel you pulling him apart and peering into him. It was something he hadn’t seen from you yet, he’d grown so used to the fire and ice of your fighting, but this? You looked at him like you understood, and it was comforting and terrifying all at once. 

“Okay.” It was all you said before you held out your hand to him, palm towards the now darkening sky. You were asking for his knife, he realized. 

“I can keep going-” he insisted, and you shook your head. 

“We’re not done. I just want to try something different.” Soft wasn’t the right word for the way your voice sounded, then, but it was close. Closer than Leon ever thought to hear from you. 

Maybe that was why he handed you the knife and felt some of his anger ebb away. You were trying to help him, he had to remember that. 

You slid your own knife into your back pocket, and Leon almost regretted that trust he’d placed in you. Then, you reached for his hand, guiding him with a touch that was too careful for someone with perpetually bruised knuckles. You placed his own hand over yours - over the one that now held his knife. Leon could only look at you in confusion.

“What are-”

“You have to get used to being up close,” you said, “so I’m not going to give you anywhere else to be. I’ll go for you, and you redirect or block. Just don’t move your hand off of me.” 

That confusion didn’t leave Leon’s face, but you didn’t budge. 

“I’ll start slow, and we’ll go from there.” 

And then you moved and gone was the striking speed he’d grown so familiar with. The knife came at his midsection in a stab, and with it moving so slow, Leon had more than enough time to step to the side, sliding his hand across your wrist to set up for a block. He looked up at you, seeking some confirmation that he was doing what you had in mind. You nodded, and then turned the blocked strike up and across, trying for a slash at his free arm. 

It wasn’t a fight, not really. Even as you picked up the pace, even as you instructed him to add his other arm, or when you switched the knife to your other hand, Leon never felt that anxiety build in the back of his mind. All his focus was on you and the way you moved. You reminded him of water, each blocked strike flowing seamlessly into the next. And your face . . . he’d never seen you look so peaceful. Determined, yes, but peaceful. 

The way you moved, the tranquil focus in your eyes, the slight smile that curved your mouth when you would switch up a move and Leon had to adjust to counter . . . it wasn’t the first time in the last few days that he’d thought of you as beautiful, but it was the most staggering. 

He had to snap himself back into the moment in front of him when he saw the knife coming at his chest, still slower than your usual pace. Still, the sight was enough for him to know he had to move. 

Your eyes and his both widened as he caged your arm against himself, twisting it a bit and moving his hand to the knife you held. When he wrenched the weapon free and brought it to your neck, you looked genuinely surprised. Then, Leon swore, that expression turned to pride. “There you go,” you breathed, and Leon released you with a smile. 

Handing the knife back to you, Leon found that the fatigue he’d felt when you began was gone, along with the shadows in his head. 

“Don’t look too proud,” you huffed, and Leon could tell by the lightness of your eyes that your annoyance was an act. Mostly. “Once you can do that at full speed-” you stopped, and Leon wasn’t sure what had caught your attention at first. 

Then, he heard it. 

Whoever it was in that bunkhouse listening to the radio had finally changed the station. Bluegrass was gone, replaced by the sound of a synth beat and a woman singing. A few women, Leon realized as his brows knit together. 

“All I want from you is a promise you will be there-” 

It was the sort of pop music Leon had heard a lot of in high school, or what his ex would put on when she was driving. Not at all what he would expect to hear on an army base. Not at all the sort of music he would imagine would make your eyes light up.

Leon only got a moment to wonder why the hell you looked happy to hear the Spice Girls come on the radio when the station was changed once more. When he saw the disappointment that followed your joy, he very seriously considered going and asking whatever officer was manning the radio to switch it back. The rock that Leon grew up listening to followed, but he didn’t much care. 

“Not what I thought your music tastes would be.” He couldn’t stop himself from making the comment, thinking it was going to catch you off guard. He should have known better by now, he supposed. 

“Why not? The Spice Girls kick ass.” 

He wanted to laugh, but he held back because this was the first thing he’d learned about you that didn’t involve weapons or methods of killing people. And what a fact to know about the soldier that had been swinging knives at him day after day. So, he just held up his hands in surrender. “I guess you’d know better than I would.” 

“You a rock kind of guy, then?” you asked, and Leon could hardly believe he was having this conversation with you. 

“I like it, yeah.” 

Your eyes narrowed, like you were reading the fine print across him. “Green Day? Or Nirvana?” 

“Green Day,” he answered, not sure how he should feel that you’d been able to guess that about him. 

You nodded. “They’re good, I’ll give you that.” 

Leon had never been to Vegas, but he imagined this is what people there felt like when they hit a winning streak. The odds weren’t in their favor, but they had won this much. Why not press their luck and try for a bit more? “Better than the Spice Girls,” he said with a grin.

He was a little too pleased when you glared back at him. “We can go back to regular sparring, you know-”

“Alright, understood.”

He might have imagined it, but Leon could have sworn you grinned, then. “Come on. We’ve still got some time,” you said, spinning the knife in your hand before holding it out in a closed fist. Still, even if it was back to all business, your eyes were brighter than they were when you began. 

For his part, Leon was glad to see you in a better mood, however confused he was by it. Curiosity had gotten him into trouble before, but he felt safer asking one final question of you before you began again. “So,” Leon asked as he put his hand over yours again, knees bending as he got into a ready stance. “Why the Spice Girls?” 

Your mouth twitched, and it took you a moment to answer. Like you yourself were recalling the reason. 

“Because sometimes you need some stupid music that just makes you happy.” 

It wasn’t the answer he expected from you, but so little of your interactions with him today had been what he expected. You, in many ways, weren’t what he expected. Every day that was becoming more and more apparent. That was perhaps what had brought about the association with Ada. She had been a mystery to him, right until the very end. He would never get the chance to really understand her, now. 

He didn’t want that to be the case with you.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” he began, once the two of you were done for the night, right before you had to head back to your respective barracks. 

“Didn’t you just?” 

“Did you just tell a joke?” Leon asked, not really believing it. You must have been in a good mood. He hoped he wasn’t about to ruin it. 

“It’s been known to happen.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.” 

“Don’t push it,” you warned, and Leon got the feeling it was light-hearted. “What’s your question?” 

He had so many, but it was almost time for lights out and you didn’t seem to enjoy talking about yourself. So, he settled for the one that had been bothering him all night: “How’d you know? About me being in fights before?” If what happened in Raccoon City could be called fights at all. 

You looked over at him, unsure. Not of his question, he got the feeling, but of how you were going to answer it. 

Whatever debate was happening in your mind, there were a few heartbeats of silence before you spoke. “Because I was making the same mistakes when I got here.” 

Leon was smart enough to understand what you meant, and it made his gut sink. You’d been in the Army. He didn’t know where you’d served or for how long, but you couldn’t have been much older than him. And if he was interpreting things correctly . . . he remembered the way your eyes had flashed when he’d tagged you with his knife that first day. It all made sense now, why you reacted the way you did, why you trained so hard. “I’m sorry,” Leon said. Sorry for bringing it up, sorry that he’d taken you back to a painful moment, but mostly, sorry that it happened to you in the first place. 

You stared back at him, chewing on the inside of your lip. Your eyes were distant again, and it added a weight of guilt to Leon’s heart. Still, you swallowed down whatever it was you were feeling. “We’re both here now, right?” 

Leon forced a smile, but it didn’t quite make it. “Right.” He didn’t want to be here. He hadn’t asked for this. Maybe you hadn’t, either. Still, standing in the training yard at night, his energy spent and the night ahead of him offering no peace, Leon found a slim silver lining to the situation: the two of you weren’t alone. “Thank you again,” he said, when it looked like you were about to leave. “For helping me.” 

“Guess we’ll see how much I’ve been helping tomorrow. Krauser asked me to come in again.” You said it in a low voice, like it was a secret between friends. 

“Thanks for the heads up,” Leon said, feeling something stir in his chest. 

You just tilted your head and shrugged. Your way of saying don’t mention it. “Just try to act surprised.” Then you were heading off into the night, and that smile Leon had faked just moments before became genuine. 

Chapter Text

The song, as far as you were concerned, was stupid. Nonsense. Even so, you were smiling as it played. You weren’t alone in that. The faces around you were smiling, too. Laughing, eyes bright with joy. Even in army fatigues, those smiles managed to make them all look young. Carefree. 

You all huddled together around the radio, talking about how you wished the woman singing would just tell the audience what she “really, really wanted” in fewer words. Every person complained about the song, saying that you should all be listening to real music. Even so, no one made a move to change the station. Instead, they let the song play on, forgetting for a moment where and who they were. You watched from outside your own body, an unknown observer to a memory that didn’t feel like your own. 

No, whoever’s memory this was, they didn’t know to cherish this insignificant little moment. They didn’t know not to roll their eyes when David started dancing to the song, or to laugh harder at Sasha’s appalled expression when he did. 

They didn’t know that they would remember those names for all the wrong reasons. Too many more that you would never, ever forget, even if the world had. Names that were not given the places of honor that they deserved, but instead were slapped on some rock in a field, their bodies not even allowed to be placed beneath the headstones. 

You remembered them, just as you remembered the name on the spare tag that hung around your neck. 

That name meant everything to you, once. It had been your home and haven, your guidance when your world was reduced to ashes. 

And now, it was a reminder that nothing was safe. Nothing and no one. 

“Sergeant.” His voice called to you, and you turned. 

You would know that face anywhere, even with the tarnish of rot on it like it was now. Eyes that had been wise and warm were now empty, his skin paled by death. His fatigues were covered in blood, and his mouth hung open in a silent scream. Part of his head was missing from where you’d shot him. Where you’d killed him. 

“Captain . . .” you breathed. 

The music was gone. The voices of your friends, your brothers in arms, were gone. In their place, there were moans and snarls. More figures appeared from the dark, all wearing the twisted faces of people you’d lived with, trained with. Fought beside. Shared laughs and stories with. 

Calling their names did nothing, because they weren’t them anymore. You could only run, and run you did. Until the walls around you seemed to melt away into the black of night. Snow and ice crunched under your boots, and you were so busy looking behind you at the corpses trailing you, that you didn’t see the figure in front of you. 

You didn’t see the knife until it was buried to the hilt in your side. 

Eyes wide, you looked into the darkness, not believing what was happening to you, even though you’d lived and re-lived it a hundred times. You still couldn’t fathom it as the knife was torn free, taking chunks of flesh with it. When it slid back into your belly, you crumpled to the cold ground. It kept going until you were lying face up, staring at the snow falling over you. 

When you were gone, would you become like the rest? Would your broken body carry on for a while, looking for someone to sink your teeth into? Would you lose yourself completely? 

Let me die, you hoped. Prayed. Let me die and stay dead. 

You knew it wouldn’t mean anything. You knew it as the knife disappeared, and teeth took its place. So, you could only scream as they descended on you, their hands and teeth setting to work. Tearing into you, ripping you apart-

It hadn’t ended that way. That was the only way you’d known it was a dream. The only reason you’d been able to pull yourself out of it in time was because those corpses wearing the faces of your friends hadn’t pulled you limb from limb. The knife and its wielder hadn’t come from the shadows. You should have seen it coming a mile away. There were so many things that you should have done, and your mind loved to remind you of them. 

You survived. However much your dreams liked to make you imagine otherwise. However much, sometimes, in the back of your mind, there was a whispering that you shouldn’t have. 

Your hand found its way to the dog tags that hung at your chest, and you squeezed all three so tightly in your grip that the names likely made impressions on your palm. Your name, and a name that you hadn’t spoken aloud since that day in the snow, since you were forced to turn a gun on its owner. 

You couldn’t read the name ‘Simon Reynolds’ in the dark, but you knew it was there. It weighed on you heavily, like it always did. Like you needed it to. 

“Fuck,” you breathed, trying to calm your racing mind and heart. Then, after a moment, you let yourself fall back into your bed. Wouldn't find any sleep there, so you just repeated the mantra you’d clung to since you’d woken up in the hospital, your belly full of stitches and your life forever changed. 

Never again. 

⧫⧫⧫

Leon had become well-acquainted with the sinking feeling that something was wrong. He’d experienced it when he’d driven towards Raccoon City not too long ago, and since then, it had become something he learned to recognize and pay attention to. 

He felt a lesser version of that feeling when, on the way to his morning drills, he saw you across the camp. 

You were talking to Krauser, the Major’s arms crossed over his chest. Leon couldn’t see your face, not with your back to him. Krauser, though, looked pensive. He nodded once, saying something Leon was too far away to hear, and then walked past you. That feeling of dread came to Leon when he saw the smirk that Krauser wore. 

Leon didn’t have the opportunity to talk to you about that or about the conversation from the night before. Not before he and his squad filed into formation, each of them readying themselves for whatever was to come. Leon thought, for a moment, that you had been messing with him, because you weren’t there waiting for them. That worry was replaced by something worse when Krauser stepped up to the group. 

“Got something special for you today,” he began. “A preview of what you’re all in for.” He was smiling wide when you approached, and you weren’t alone. Leon recognized your squad falling into formation alongside his own.  

What the hell was going on? 

“Sergeant,” Krauser called, and you stepped forward. Any of the mirth that had lit up your eyes last night was gone, but so was the strength he usually saw in you. You looked resigned to your fate, whatever was about to happen. Like you were bracing for a storm that you knew was going to overtake you. You didn’t spare him any glances, and Leon had to wrestle down the urge to ask you if you were alright. Now wasn’t the time. Not as Krauser tossed you a practice knife and ordered your first opponent to step forward. It was one of Leon’s squad, but as Krauser went down the line with each one of your victories, Leon knew that it wouldn’t be long before you were faced down with someone at your own skill level. 

You knew it, too. You weren’t taking any risks - each of your movements meant to conserve as much energy as you could manage. Now that you were armed, the fights went faster - you could afford to be more aggressive. It saved you some time, but Leon’s squad had been improving and you had double the people to fight through. Twenty opponents, and the more difficult ones were going last. 

Leon wanted to say he had faith in you, but the way you looked before you’d started . . . 

He almost didn’t see it, he was so busy watching you fight. Still, Krauser’s red beret was difficult to miss. It pulled Leon’s focus, the recruit watching as his commanding officer strode over to the line of soldiers standing at attention while you fought. You’d made it through your first two opponents when Krauser placed his hand on the shoulder of a tall, intense looking man at the end of the line. One of your squad mates - Alejandro, if Leon remembered correctly. 

The Major’s mouth moved, and Leon stiffened as Alejandro broke from formation, stalking towards the fight that was happening in front of him. 

He didn’t realize that Krauser had handed him a practice blade until it was arcing towards you. 

Your eyes went wide, realizing you had another threat to deal with in the middle of blocking a swing. Leon’s squad mate, a shorter young man named Shinoda, looked just as confused as you. He backed away as Alejandro attacked, mercifully giving you the time you needed to put up a defense. You countered before stepping away, looking between the two men you’d been faced with. 

“You’re not going to be fighting just one opponent out there,” Krauser said, walking behind the two squads as he went on. “And you won’t always know the enemy is coming until they’re right on top of you. But you’ll also have the opportunity to work together, even if it ends up being with soldiers you’re unfamiliar with. So, Shinoda, Garza-” Leon couldn’t look behind him to see the Major’s face, but he just knew by the sound of his voice that he was smiling. “Make our Sergeant here work for a win, why don’t you?” 

This wasn’t fair. By the surprise still plastered over your face, you hadn’t been expecting to be tag-teamed. Whatever you’d been bracing yourself for at the beginning, Krauser had circumvented. It made Leon angry on your behalf, but that emotion took a back seat to his desire for you to win. You were a damn good fighter - one of the best Leon had ever seen. Even so, he knew from experience that once more than one opponent was added to the mix, everything changed. Your head was on a swivel, trying to keep track of the two of them as they circled you. Alejandro went around, moving to flank you, to trap you between his knife and Shinoda’s. 

The two cadets looked first to each other, and then to you. Then, with an understanding between them, they attacked. 

Leon felt his heart skip a beat as Shinoda slashed at you, going for your knife arm. He wasn’t as fast as you were, and he didn’t manage to avoid the counter cut you gave him across his own arm - a move that would have cut deep into his triceps. 

You’d decommissioned his good arm, but the moment you’d done it, there was another knife coming down at you.

Alejandro was taller than you, letting him comfortably bring his knife down towards your shoulder in a reverse grip. Your own arm flashed up so fast Leon almost missed the block and bind you managed to execute, just in time. What he saw with perfect clarity, however, was the fist that Alejandro raised to follow through. He saw it swing towards you, and his breath caught in his throat when he watched it connect with your nose in full force. 

You yelped, the force of the blow and your own feet scrambling sending you back, away from your opponents. Your free hand covered your mouth and nose, and when you pulled it away to examine it, Leon saw red. 

There were some sharp breaths taken in, a few murmurs, but no one said anything in protest to the hit. And Krauser? Leon turned to look at the Major, only to find him watching the fight, unbothered. “At attention, Rookie,” he barked, when he felt Leon’s eyes on him. “You might even learn something.” 

Leon remembered that first day he’d met you, when you’d struck him with that backfist. Krauser hadn’t stopped you, then, and Leon knew that he wasn’t going to stop this now. 

“Bruises are the best teachers.” 

By the time Leon looked back at you, your attackers had already moved again, taking advantage of the opening the punch had created. The onslaught that followed was brutal, and you were forced further and further back as you tried to defend. He saw your fear just as much as he saw your focus, and all he could think of was your words last night, and what they implied you’d been through. 

“. . . I was making the same mistakes . . .”

This was wrong. Even if he understood why it was happening, Leon could only think that it was wrong. 

But then, wrong or not, you weren’t asking them to stop. You didn’t even look to Krauser as the two men you were fighting lunged for you. You just bared your teeth, raised your blade, and fought back. 

When you had an opening, you went for Shinoda. It was the smart move, he was slower than Alejandro. Less experienced. If you could get him off the board, it might give you a moment to focus on the bigger threat. It worked, too. Circling the shorter man as he struck out, you managed to get him between you and Alejandro, just for a moment. Then, in a few quick moves, you were dragging your blade across his gut before kicking him towards his impromptu ally. 

And before you even got the chance to advance on Alejandro, Krauser moved and another soldier from your squad was sent forward. 

It was a training exercise. A brutal one, yes, but he knew that you would walk away from this, no matter how hurt you’d be. Krauser wasn’t looking to kill you. 

It was just a training exercise. 

That didn’t make it bother him any less. Standing there, watching as you avoided knives by just a heartbeat, or take punches and kicks that you weren’t fast enough to dodge . . . it felt like there was something in him, clawing its way through his stomach, demanding that he move. That he do something. 

You groaned as you took a knee to the stomach, just narrowly countering the overhead stab that followed. Twisting out of the hold and slashing wildly, you put some distance between yourself and your attackers. The guard that you put up after was half-formed, and you spat out some of the blood that had made its way past your lips. You were going to keep going, even if it was a losing battle. 

And he wasn’t going to just sit by and do nothing. 

You were in pain, and this was wrong. That was all it boiled down to. 

Krauser would kick the shit out of him if he interfered. If any one of them disobeyed an order, there would be consequences. 

In that moment, though, as Leon watched you get taken to the ground, he realized that he didn’t really care. 

⧫⧫⧫

You were going to lose. 

You’d known that going in, but seeing two knives coming at you after the dreams you had . . . you were unfocused. Unraveling. You'd needed this to ground you, even if it really fucking hurt. You tasted copper and it, combined with the strikes your gut had taken, made you feel like you were going to be sick. 

Not a dignified ending to things, but there were very few ways to lose with dignity, in your experience. Best you could do was go down swinging and do better next time.  

Alejandro blocked a strike from you, and his leg moved just a little too fast, hooking behind your own and pulling it out from under you. You hit the ground hard, the back of your head smacking into the dirt with a pain that felt like background noise. All your focus, once your eyes opened, was on the shadow passing over you and the knife it brought with it. You got your guard up just in time, and Alejandro’s knife stopped just short of your neck. He stopped your own knife just in time, too, and the two of you struggled for no more than half a second before a second shape came into view. 

This was it, then. At least you could say you put up a decent fight-

You looked over just in time to see a boot connect with the back of your other opponent’s knee, forcing her down. 

“Kennedy!” Krauser barked, just as someone took the knife from the woman’s hand and slashed its dulled blade across her throat. “Back in formation!” 

The recruit in question wasn’t listening, and you watched him rush towards you, his newly acquired knife aimed at Alejandro’s side. 

Oh, Leon. You absolute dumbass, you could only think as the soldier on top of you realized he was about to have more company than he planned on. Alejandro wasn’t the sort to let anyone get the drop on him, and he ducked away, rolling off to your side and freeing you from his hold. 

Once he was gone, you realized just how dazed you were as a hand was offered to you. It took you a second to process who it belonged to, but then you saw that hair above you, and you sighed. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you asked, letting Leon help you up. Your head hurt, and so did your ribs, but his grip on you was steady and more reassuring than it had any right to be. Even so, him rushing to your side, disobeying orders . . . it made you feel a lot of things, and you didn’t have the time to put names to them all. “Get back in line,” you hissed, but it was too late. 

“Are you deaf, Kennedy?” Krauser asked, and you wished he sounded more angry and less amused. “Or are you intentionally disobeying an order?” 

Leon swallowed, but that was the only sign he gave that he was nervous. As he met Krauser’s stare, you realized just how brave this boy was. Brave or stupid. “‘You won't always know an enemy is coming until they’re on top of you,’ right?” He threw the Major's own words back in his face, and even you winced. 

Krauser’s eyes flashed, and then, God help you both, he smiled. “You want to play the hero, Rookie? Fine. Soto, Andersen.” You recognized both as people in your squad. Valeria was the owner of the first name, and she stepped forward with a glinting smile. Andersen. . . well, he was quiet, just like you. He was there to get the job done. He followed orders, and whatever Krauser wanted done now, he would do it with haste.  “You’re with Garza. Beat some sense into Kennedy.” 

You were surrounded, Alejandro on one side, Valeria and Andersen on the other. You were slow, tired and in more pain than you wanted to admit. Leon was fine, but he struggled against you. These soldiers were easily at your level. 

Things weren’t looking good, but you raised your knife anyway. 

It would be a good learning experience, once the hurt faded a bit. 

“You take Alejandro,” you said to Leon, stepping between him and the two fresh challengers. “I’ve got these two.” 

Leon nodded, moving into a guard and covering your back just as you covered his. He didn’t look fazed at all. It was the first time you’d ever seen him so sure of himself. You didn’t let yourself linger on that thought for long, not with the two knives in front of you coming ever closer. 

But you weren’t alone. How long had it been since you hadn’t been alone? 

“What’d you do to get him to like you so much?” Valeria laughed, spinning the knife in her hand with practiced ease. She looked past your shoulder at Leon, but you commanded her attention back to you when you sliced at her, missing her leg but making her retreat all the same. 

It was a fair question. It felt like all you’d done for Leon Kennedy was kick his ass six ways to Sunday, and maybe give him the occasional apology for doing it. You couldn’t fathom why he was willing to jump into a fight for you. Still, all evidence pointed to the fact that Leon did, for some reason, enjoy your company. Even if it was so often delivered at the end of a knife. Whatever the case, you’d come to like him, too, as dangerous as that was. 

He was going to catch hell for this. Least you could do was make it as easy for him as possible. 

So, when Valeria asked that concerning and puzzling question, you just exhaled hard through your nostrils, a spray of partially dried blood heralding your answer. “Shut up and fight.” 

Chapter Text

If it were a real knife - if Leon hadn’t raised his arm just in time - he would have a second smile carved into his neck. Red and ear to ear. 

He thought you were brutal when he first faced you. He still did, to an extent, but as he clashed against your squad mates, he realized that brutality was not something unique to you. Krauser had cultivated it in each of them. Alejandro was no exception, and by the way Leon felt you moving behind him, he knew that Valeria and Andersen were no different. All of you had been here for months, all being trained to go for the throat and to-

⧫⧫⧫

Show no mercy. 

Valeria had taken that lesson to heart. She and Andersen worked well together. Whenever he attacked, forcing you to defend one part of yourself and give up another, she was there. Her knife nearly found its way home to you over and over, saved at the last moment. 

Her smile widened each time she got close. Your nose ached, your arms burned and that spot in your ribs . . . old wounds had a way of acting up, in moments like this. You had so little room to maneuver, but you didn’t dare move away from Leon. Not when, if you did, you knew Valeria would be there to drive that knife of hers into his back. Still, you needed to get out of this pincer that they had formed around you. 

You needed to-

⧫⧫⧫

Keep your opponent close. 

Leon tried to cling to the words as Alejandro swung at him. Your brutality came from efficiency. With Alejandro, it came from power. As Leon blocked that throat slash, his entire body felt the weight of the impact. It was enough to ring the alarm bells in his head, for his mind to tell him that he was safer further away. 

Even with all that apprehension, all the muscle memory of flinching away from too-heavy blows, Leon held his ground. Your presence at his back kept him from slipping to the side, taking the easy path. Running only delayed the inevitable. 

So, when that world-shaking blow landed, making Leon’s blocking arm tremor, he slashed his knife forward. If he was fast enough, he could-

⧫⧫⧫

Turn the attack against them. 

It was all you could hope to do, as Andersen lunged, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge. Your ribs hurt more with each movement. Bloody teeth flashed as you snarled, your mind moving a mile a minute. You were aware of a knife coming at your heart, and you could only thank your body for remembering what to do about it. Your free hand smacked the attack away, eyes wild. His shoulder was exposed. You moved and-

⧫⧫⧫

The knife missed, traveling through the air where Alejandro had been, Leon’s arm reached just short of where he needed to be. 

His leg, though, could make up the difference.

The kick landed hard on Alejandro’s side, earning a pained sound from the older soldier. He staggered to the side a bit as Leon returned to his ready stance, the rookie so surprised by his own success that he didn’t even think to follow it through. 

If he could take Alejandro out of the picture, then he might be able to help you. That was all he could think as when heard your sharp intake of breath-

⧫⧫⧫

-as Valeria slipped around you, as you knew she would. She took what she could get, always. Especially in a fight. And you had just given her a free shot at the man who defended you. 

No no no-

Andersen switched the knife to his other hand. Caught your leg with a slash, and almost your heart with the stab that followed. You blocked, panic setting in as you realized you weren’t going to be able to help. 

“Leon!” you shouted, knowing it would probably be too late. 

⧫⧫⧫

He turned as he heard his name, and the knife missed him by an inch as he blocked. Valeria. She’d come at him sideways, grinning like a hyena. He wasn’t quite fast enough to stop what followed, as a fist jabbed at his face. 

The pain of it sent him reeling back, and Valeria followed, even if he couldn’t see it well through reactive tears that formed in his eyes. He could feel the proximity shift. The air parting for the knife that she aimed at him. He brought up a clumsy, instinctual defense, and the blunted point drove into his forearm. 

Movement out of the corner of his eye-

Alejandro. 

Leon braced for the blow, trying to defend himself and-

⧫⧫⧫

Your fist hurt from the blow, but you knew Andersen’s face was hurting a whole hell of a lot more. You’d aimed for his cheek. Didn’t break anything. Just wanted him out of the way. He grunted, stumbled, and then you made your break for it. 

Normally, you would have finished Andersen off. Taken advantage of the pain to win. 

Seeing Alejandro moving towards Leon was what stopped you. Sent you rushing for the taller soldier, just as he slashed Leon’s arm so hard you knew it would bruise. Alejandro would be given as good as he gave, though, because your knife found its way home like lightning finding ground. Shoulder. Underarm when he turned and tried to counter you. Then, lastly and most definitively, you rammed the blade into his chest. Flashing fast and unstoppable. 

Your victory died just as soon as it was yours. 

Just as you would have died, had the knife slammed into your back been real. 

⧫⧫⧫

Leon saw it happen before he knew what to do to stop it.  

Suddenly, Andersen was there behind you, and your eyes were going wide, your back arching away from the blade that had been driven into it. You turned, going for a swing that went nowhere as Andersen forced your torso down onto his knee. You screamed as you took the hit, and then you were brought to the ground. You were out. You’d gotten Alejandro, but you were out. It was Leon against two soldiers, both better trained than he was. 

He didn’t have any time to process it before Valeria was on him again. 

What happened next confused him, because he couldn’t quite remember telling his body to move the way it did. Instinct guided his hands, it felt like, as the knife came towards him. Then, a second later, Valeria’s arm was caged against him, just as yours had been the night before.

He didn’t mean to drive the knife into her chest as hard as he did, and his blood was pounding too quickly in his veins for him to really feel badly about it. He just saw the look of surprise on her face before he turned back around, knowing there was still one more to go. 

Andersen had stepped close to him, and Leon swung his blade in an arc, panicked. 

It was a mistake. 

The older soldier ducked beneath the swing, an arm snaking around Leon’s leg while the other hand braced at his outstretched arm. Then, he was in the air, his feet arcing over his head, and all he could think was how? His back hitting the ground brought an end to the confusion, and he cried out at the pain of it. 

Andersen was waiting for him when he regained his focus, and Leon wondered when he’d gotten so used to having steel against his neck. In that moment, as the pain of everything he’d just experienced started to press in on him, all he wanted was to stay there on the ground. 

Krauser had other plans. 

“All that just to end up in the dirt anyway,” the Major shook his head. “At attention!” 

If Leon had mastered one thing in all of this, it was the art of getting back up, even when his body begged him not to. 

There was no hand offered to him this time. Leon could only push himself up, wincing as he moved, and then stopping himself from wincing again when he saw you doing the same. You avoided Leon’s gaze as you straightened your back, and Leon suddenly felt very alone. Especially when he stood fully and saw the way Krauser was looking at him. 

“I can appreciate the sentiment, rookie,” he began, and Leon only half listened to the words that came next. He had a good idea that he knew what was coming. “Very noble. Now, tell me this: Do you think you helped the Sergeant by doing that?” 

Even if Krauser wasn’t armed, even if he hadn’t lifted a finger against him, Leon felt the sting of that blow. 

In the end, Leon’s help hadn’t meant shit. You still had blood charting new courses across your face, and you still clutched at your stomach in pain. Now, Leon just had injuries to match. It wasn’t the first time he’d thrown himself in harm's way for someone he cared about, only to have it be pointless in the end. That bitterness just made the pain all the worse. 

“No, sir.” The blood from Leon’s split lip made the words taste sour.

Krauser nodded. “No, you didn’t. I could train you all the usual way, and tell you all to pull your punches, or pair you up so that you can have fair fights. And then I could send you all into the field and get body bags in return, but this isn’t about being fair. This is about preparing you.” 

“I know that-” 

“Then start acting like it,” Krauser growled. “You’re not a hero. You’re a soldier just like everyone else here, and you’re under my command.” He stepped forward, close enough that Leon could see his blue eyes darken as he took on a more serious tone. “You will not interrupt my lessons, or disobey my orders again, are we clear?” 

Leon’s voice was quiet as he answered. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good. Now, the two of you-” he gestured past Leon towards where you stood. “Run the base. And keep running, until I tell you otherwise.” 

Blue eyes going wide, Leon felt suddenly alert. “Sir, I was the one-”

“You were. And you’re both going to be running.” Krauser was smiling again. Smaller this time, but so self-righteous.  

“Sir-” 

“Leon.” Your voice cut the wire, halting the reaction building in Leon’s chest. When he turned to face you, the fight in him only got worse. You looked like hell, bloodied and battered. Your voice almost wavered as you spoke one word. “Stop.” 

There was no room for arguing. Leon knew if he protested, the punishment would just get worse and worse. However much Krauser made his blood boil, however much he wanted to yell that you had done nothing wrong but take a beating you shouldn't have had to, Leon just clenched his jaw and nodded. 

“Well,” Krauser said, “get to it.” 

⧫⧫⧫

You didn’t keep track of how many times you and Leon lapped the base, because it honestly didn’t matter. There was no number to work towards, no goal but to keep going for as long as you could manage. With your nose still dripping the occasional drops of blood and the pain in your ribs, it was an entirely unpleasant experience. 

But it was an experience that let you think.

As your heart threatened to crack your ribs with its heavy beating, and your lungs were filled with the pins and needles of exertion, you thought about the boy running alongside you. Thinking about, but not looking at. You needed to sort things out in your head, and you needed him not to interrupt your thought process with those sad eyes of his. You needed to not look at the split and swollen lip he’d acquired, or the grimace you knew he was wearing. If you looked, you would just be reminded that he’d taken those hits for you, and then . . . well, then that complicated things. 

As it was, keeping your eyes ahead and your mind in reality made it a simple situation. Leon had made a stupid call, and it had cost him. Both of you. He’d either learn from it, or not. Whatever the case, it wasn’t your problem. Not your responsibility to keep him safe, nor his to protect you. The only person you could control was yourself, and that was more than enough to deal with. 

That was what you wanted to think. What you should think-

That pain in your ribs turned to agony, white hot and enough to steal your breath away. It was only a moment of it, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks, a groan crawling its way out of your throat as it overtook you without warning. 

The knife went into you once. Twice. Three times-

You heard more than felt the bone break under the steel-

Red lenses where eyes should have been-

Someone screaming your name-

Leon called your name, and you looked up to see him rushing over to you. Worry in his eyes. Looking at him now, after so much time spent resolving that you wouldn’t look . . . you’d opened your eyes when you shouldn’t have, and now you were going to pay for it. So, you did everything you could to make yourself stone. Something that could withstand what came next and not break. 

“Are you alright?” Leon asked, though he could barely get the words out with how hard he was breathing. How long had the two of you been running? 

“Fine,” you hissed, but even that word made your ribs contract, and then the pain was back. “Ah, fuck-” you didn’t want him to see you like this. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this; doubled over, one hand at your side and your eyes panicked. You couldn’t even breathe deep enough to calm the racing of your heart-

His hand went to your shoulder, and you almost brushed him away. Almost, were it not for the way his touch steadied you; gave you something else to focus on than the sorry state that your body was in. 

A hand clasped on your shoulder. Guiding and grounding. “You hanging in there, kid?”

The memory sent a jolt through you. 

“Just . . .” you said through shallow breaths, “just give me a minute.” 

Leon did as you asked, going quiet for a moment but remaining at your side. You knew he had to be hurting, too. He’d taken a beating just as you had, but here he was, more concerned with you than himself. 

It frustrated you, because you thought you’d not encounter that here. It would have been easier that way. 

“We have to keep going,” you murmured, beginning to move. 

Leon held you back, as gently as he could manage. “No, we don’t. You’re hurt.” He gestured to where your hand still lingered over your ribs. “Maybe we should take you to the infirmary,” he suggested after a moment, after you tried to take a deeper breath and grimaced for the effort. 

“I said I’m fine.” The words were delivered with a sharpness that you hadn’t intended. Still, the aches of your body and the jumble of your mind put an edge on your words. You were wasting time, letting yourself rest. 

“But you’re not!” Leon insisted, seeming to want to take the conversation in circles. “You just couldn’t breathe, I saw it! Krauser doesn’t get to just have them kick the shit out of you and then make you do laps. Not just to make a point to me.” 

“He didn’t do this just to be an asshole,” you hissed, giving in to that frustration tugging at you. “I told him I wanted a challenge, and he gave me one.” Confusion knitted Leon’s brow, his eyes searching your own. 

“You asked him to do this?” 

He sounded so concerned, and it took the wind out of your sails. At least you felt like you could breathe, now. “Not this specifically, but yeah.” 

“Why?” 

Ah, the million-dollar question. Why did you train so hard? Why did you dedicate so much of your life to this, to being prepared for every situation? Your squad mates had asked you similar questions before, but you’d never given them the whole truth. You’d said something along the lines of wanting to be alive at the end of a mission, even though that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t the future you were training for. It was the past, and the brand it had left on you.  

What better way to answer Leon than with that?

So, you took the hand away from your ribs, moving it to the worn hem of your shirt. You pulled the now red-stained fabric up towards your chin, stopping just short of your chest. Just enough for Leon to see what lay there. 

You couldn’t see them with the shirt and your hand in the way, but you knew all too well what was there that made the rookie’s eyes darken: a patchwork of scar tissue over your belly, sneaking up into your ribs. It was an ugly thing to you, not because if its shape, but because of how you acquired it - all misshapen and discolored flesh, and would no doubt be worse tomorrow, when the bruises would start showing up between the scars. A terrible little work of art. 

One that you had never shown to another person willingly. Your squad had seen it before, you knew. Privacy and military life didn’t exactly mix. This, though . . . this was something more. You were letting your guard down, tossing your knife to the side so that this boy you barely knew could understand you better. 

And you were doing it because, somehow, you knew that he would understand. 

Leon didn’t speak. Didn’t move. He just stared at the ruin that had been made of your skin, and then, slowly, looked back up to your eyes. 

You willed yourself not to look away from him as you spoke again. “That’s my reason. What’s yours? Why’d you ask me to train with you?” 

The muscles in his jaw moved, his eyes wavering from yours for just a moment. You wondered if he was going to show you a scar of his own. Instead, he just spoke in a hushed voice, like he was afraid to awaken some slumbering beast. 

“I was in Raccoon City. When the incident happened.” 

And just like that, the hammer struck home and you forgot your own pain. 

“Oh, God.” 

You’d heard of what happened in Raccoon City, same as everyone else. You’d read the articles, listened to the news reports. Homicides, mobs attacking civilians. People that looked like corpses walking the streets. You’d poured over the reports, because it had all been too familiar to you. It reminded you too much of a night in the snow, months prior, thousands of miles from here. 

And that was where the guilt came from, gnawing at you like a dog with its favorite bone. 

The winds were still, the snow falling slow around you. It might have been quiet, but for the whirring of the helicopter blades. 

No. 

No no no no no. 

There were so many things about that night to feel guilty for. Now, you hoped, you didn’t have another to add to the list. It was the night that changed everything. In a few hours, your whole world had been dashed against the stones and left it to die a slow death. 

And Leon Kennedy had lived through the same thing. 

“I couldn’t save . . . I couldn’t save a lot of people.” He was giving voice to the thoughts that you’d kept to yourself for so long. Thoughts that you hadn’t dared to voice because, maybe, if you kept them to yourself, they wouldn’t be real. 

Now, though, for your sake or for Leon’s, you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking. “Neither could I.” 

The two of you looked at each other, then - really looked at each other - for what felt like the first time. All this time, you had spent trying to understand Leon Kennedy, when the answers were right there in front of you. It felt like the very energy shared between the two of you shifted, and finally, after weeks of you throwing him into the dirt and shutting him out, you were on equal footing. 

It terrified you. 

It was utterly terrifying to be standing in front of someone who had lived what you had lived, even if he didn’t quite know it. Terrifying and so, so freeing. 

“We should keep going,” you said, after a while. Krauser would notice if the two of you were gone for too long, if he hadn’t already. 

Leon looked like he wanted to disagree, but he nodded anyway. “If you’re alright to.” 

You just nodded, the two of you studying each other for a heartbeat longer. It was easier to start running the second time through. Maybe because now, you felt like you were running towards something instead of running in place. 

Chapter Text

Everything hurt. 

More than what Leon was used to, now. His mouth stung, his back and shoulder - his shoulder especially - ached, and his legs screamed with each step he took. Still, that night after dinner, he found himself walking towards the training yard again. 

The evening was well and truly on its way, heralded by the song of distant crickets. No radio music yet, Leon realized as he made his way to your usual spot, so little sound to distract from the aching of his legs. Just the whispers of an incoming nighttime, and the muted conversation you were having with a red beret-wearing Major. You’d cleaned the blood from under your nose, changed your shirt to one that wasn’t stained red. Even with the bruises forming on your face, you looked less defeated than you had hours before, and Leon was relieved by that. 

He was less happy to see Krauser. Not after the day the two of you had been subjected to. Still, he couldn’t see any animosity in your eyes as you spoke, even though you’d objectively had the worst of it. 

But then, you’d asked for the worst, hadn’t you? And Leon understood why better than anyone in the world, now.

You looked Leon’s way as he approached, and Krauser must have caught the look. “Ah, rookie,” the Major raised a brow as he looked over his shoulder, and Leon did his best not to look too furious with the man. “Guess the run wasn’t that bad, if you’re coming back for more after hours.” 

It was a little jab, but still one that found its way past the wall of calm Leon had built up that evening. 

“I’m not here for running,” he said, and Krauser grinned. 

Seeing that expression made Leon brace himself. Was he here to give another lesson in the form of cruelty? With all that the Major had let happen today, it wouldn’t be a surprise. 

“Oh, I know.” Would it be more running? Pushups? Or would he fight Leon then and there? Whatever it was, he just hoped it would be over sooner rather than later. “I can’t say much about you, rookie,” the hulking man began, clasping his hands behind his back, “but coming to the Sergeant for help was smart. God knows you need the practice.” 

Leon’s eyebrows rose. It was a compliment. One delivered alongside an insult, true, but it was still more genuine a show of approval from Krauser than he’d ever gotten before. 

“Now if only you’d learn to respect the chain of command and lose the heroics, you might even be a good soldier.” There it was. The gruff contempt that Leon had come to know the Major for. It fed Leon’s anger, but your expression soothed it. You were amused, even if it was buried beneath something more difficult to read. He could see it in the way one corner of your mouth curved up, your chest rising and falling with a little huff. It was well hidden away by the time Krauser turned back to you. “See if you can get it through that thick skull of his.” 

“I’ll do what I can, sir,” you said, your voice steadier than it had been before. 

Krauser nodded, unclasping his hands and beginning to make his way to the officer’s barracks. Leon felt himself relax when he was gone. 

But then, he looked over to you and a new kind of tension came rushing in. 

There was no knife in your hands tonight, and even now that you had the opportunity, you made no move to grab one. Your eyes were fixed on him, pensive and calm. Like you had found an answer you’d been looking for. “How are you feeling?” you asked, even if you probably already knew. 

“Like a million bucks,” Leon huffed, giving a wry smile that hurt his now-swollen lip. 

You exhaled, huffing through your nose. It made you wince, but you smiled through it. “You’re not a good liar, Kennedy.” 

“No, not one of my strong suits,” he admitted. “What about you? Are you alright?” 

He half expected you to say that you were fine - to hide behind that untouchable facade that he’d mistaken for you, at first. That mask wasn’t gone, not completely, but you’d let him see underneath it. You, quite literally, had shown him your scars. Proof that you weren’t invincible. He supposed that was why you shrugged and gave an honest answer. “I feel like shit,” you sighed. “But nothing’s broken. Andersen just hit me in a . . .” you trailed off, grimacing like you’d said too much. Even so, you continued. “Well, I guess it’s still healing.” You gestured to your side, where Leon now knew your old wound was. 

One piece of the puzzle that made you up - one that made the image clearer, yes, but highlighted everything else Leon was missing all the same. 

You’d been a soldier. A Sergeant. Something had happened to give you those scars. You wore three dog tags instead of two.

I couldn’t save a lot of people. 

Neither could I.

Would you have told him more, if you’d had the time? Was that why you were waiting for him now, instead of grabbing a knife? He didn’t know. He didn’t know and he was afraid to shatter the trust you’d already placed in him by looking for details. 

The trouble was that the fear was fighting something a lot stronger. Curiosity wasn’t the right word, nor concern. 

Empathy, maybe. 

He didn’t want to think about what it might mean if it were something stronger than empathy. 

So, he would start with a small question. One that you could answer and then move on from easily. “When did it happen?” 

Your lashes shadowed your eyes, and Leon held his breath. 

“Just over a year ago.” Your voice was small, and you swallowed, looking back towards him. Leon was distantly aware of the radio playing, but it might as well have been a whisper next to your words. “I started moving on it too soon, I think. That’s why it still gives me trouble sometimes.” 

He knew that sort of pain. His shoulder still hurt sometimes from where a bullet had found its way home - another bit of agony he’d taken to spare someone else. Another hurt that hadn’t meant anything, in the end. 

“Can they do anything about it?” 

“Other than rest and painkillers? Don’t think so, no.” You sounded grimly amused by the idea. 

“Can’t really picture you resting,” Leon said, and you shook your head. 

“No. It feels better to be doing something,” you said simply.

“Easier to keep your mind off things,” he offered, and you almost smiled. Maybe you would have, if the topic was something happier. 

“Yeah.” A moment of silence stretched between the two of you, and Leon could tell that you would rather be fiddling with a knife. “Doesn’t always work, though,” you added, your gaze dropping to the ground. Like you were ashamed to admit that your thoughts drifted to a near death experience so often. 

Another thing that Leon understood too well. 

“No, it doesn’t.” 

You studied him, your mouth pulled into a line and your brows drawn together. He’d never imagined seeing you like this - to be talking to you like this. Even if this was where the conversation ended, it would be more than he could have hoped for. Knowing the two of you had that common ground, that you were going through some of the same things, would have been enough. 

Enough for him, but not enough for you, it seemed. 

“You said you lost people in Raccoon City?” 

Leon flinched, and a few faces came to memory. Last words spoken. 

It’s on you, now.

Take care of yourself, Leon.

“Yeah.” 

“Did they turn?”

Leon blinked. Rumor had spread about what happened there. People knew, even if the government wanted the finer details kept hidden. Still, the way you said it . . . “Yeah. Some of them.”  

You nodded, swallowing thick. “I wasn’t in Raccoon City,” you began, answering the question Leon hadn’t needed to ask, “but I’ve seen them. Bioweapons. I’ve seen what they turn people into. And I saw it because my people - the ones I lost - were trying to protect me and forgot to protect themselves.” Your words were all salt and vinegar, and the memory you were experiencing was heavy enough that Leon felt it pressing down on both of you. There were so many questions and truths, all flying about his head too fast for him to catch. And among them, louder than all the rest, there was one thought that sank its claws into him and wouldn’t let go. 

Not you, too.

He would never wish his experience in Raccoon City on another soul, least of all you. Hearing it tore into him, venomous and seeping sorrow into him. Sorrow and rage that the world had let such a thing happen more than once, if at all. Sorrow and rage that he saw reflected on your own face. Then, something in your gaze shifted. “I know why you stepped in today, but you need to let me succeed or fail on my own.” 

You were right, he supposed, but Leon still found himself shaking his head. “I can’t just stand by while-”

“You can,” you stepped forward, your brows knitting together, “and you will. None of us can become reliant on other people to save us.” He’d only ever heard you sound so forceful in combat - when your voice would become like the steel in your hand. 

But you’d been teaching him how to counter that steel. 

“If we were out there together, you would have my back, wouldn’t you?” 

Your eyes flashed, just for a moment. “In the field, yes-”

“Then let me have your back, too.” 

You paused, your lips parted and your eyes searching his own - looking for something Leon couldn’t know. All he could do was hold your gaze, however much it made his heart beat a little faster than it should have. It gave him time to wonder why he was even having this argument with you - why he’d really gone out to help you in the first place. 

He cared for you. Even if it didn’t feel like it was his right to, he cared for you. 

“You can have my back,” you said, your voice just as serious as before, but a newfound softness in the curve of your brow. “And you can do it by letting me learn. Even if it’s from a bloody nose or a hard hit.” He was about to protest, but you went on, the intensity of your gaze keeping him quiet. “And if I ever do need your help, I will ask for it, just like you asked me.” 

“Okay.” It was all that could be said. Your mind was made up, there was no point in him trying to change it. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking down and away from you. “It was just . . . hard to watch.” 

“Ass-kickings usually are,” you said, a little humor in your voice. “You’ll have to get used to it. Won’t be the last time.” 

He hated that you were right. He hated that you had gotten so used to being hurt, you were defending the people and the system that did it. “How do you?” he asked, looking back into your eyes. “Get used to it?” He was asking about more than just seeing someone else in pain. 

Your mouth tightened, almost a frown. Shadows danced across your face. “I don’t know.” 

And there was the crushing truth of it. All the skills in the world, and even you couldn’t fight back what had happened to you, what you had seen. If you couldn’t move past what had happened, then how could he ever hope to? 

He was so caught up in that thought, he almost didn’t catch the rest of your words. 

“Guess we’ll have to figure that out together.” 

Leon didn’t mean to look at you with such disbelief, but his eyes widened all the same. What he saw from you, though, was steadiness. A rock for him to swim to in the storm. If you needed it, he would do all he could to be the same for you.

“That works for me.” 

The two of you shared a quiet moment, then. Quiet but for the radio that now played from the bunkhouse. Bluegrass. There was no escaping it. 

Leon found himself, for the first time in his life, wishing the Spice Girls were playing. 

Eventually, you moved, taking quick steps to where the training knives were laid out. No rest. Not for you, and not for Leon. It was what both of you needed. Still, as you approached him, moving carefully so as not to aggravate your side, he couldn’t help but ask. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” you answered without hesitation. 

He must not have looked convinced. 

“We’ll go slow. Like yesterday. Need to clear my head.” 

You held out a single knife to him, handle first. After all that you had shown him today, all that you had been through, you were handing him the weapon, trusting him with it. Maybe he was reading too much into the gesture. After all, he knew better than anyone that even unarmed, you were dangerous. 

Dangerous, but not in the inhuman way you’d seemed to be, at first. 

“You think that’s Krauser playing that music every night?” If a clear head was what you needed, maybe the little question would help. 

You just raised an eyebrow. “I know it is.” 

Leon balked, snorting a laugh. “How would you know that?” 

“Because every time he turns in, the music comes on.” 

“And I thought your taste in music was bad.” 

The look you gave him as he held out the knife, waiting for your hand, was one that promised peril, even now. Even with how tired you both had to be. “You trying to piss me off?” You asked, a warning. 

Leon grinned, not caring that it reopened the scab on his lip. “Is it working?”  

He wasn’t even sure how you did it, if he was being honest. All he knew was that one moment his arm was extended towards you, and the next, it was being pushed back into him, the knife coming towards his neck while still in his own hand. He hadn’t been ready for the move, and with the speed and strength you used, there wasn’t much he could do but suck in a sharp breath as you stopped the knife just short of him. You were close to him - so, so close - as you smirked. “You’ll have to try a little harder than that.”

Chapter Text

You’d known you were in trouble the minute he’d jumped into that fight after you. Seeing his grin that night - seeing him smile despite all that he’d suffered - only confirmed it, because the sight was enough to make you smile right back. Happy to see him happy. 

When the hell had that started to matter? 

From the beginning, you called yourself on your own bullshit. You’d apologized to him for your first meeting for your own benefit, yes, but something in it had become genuine when you’d seen his sad blue eyes. You’d given him the advice you’d given him because he was sweet. Too sweet for where he was and who he was going to have to become. You’d agreed to help him because you wanted to see him do well. 

His happiness had always been a factor. It played second fiddle to his well-being, his preparedness, but it was a factor, nonetheless. And now, it was becoming not just a factor but a priority. 

For a year now, you had resigned yourself to solitude. Promised yourself peace in the form of isolation, because people were so easily ended. You were safer from afar, but now the missile was inbound, and you were in the blast zone. "Danger close" your Captain had called it. When you could see the missile arcing in the sky, knowing that you missed your opportunity to run, to get to a safe distance. Now all you could do was let the hard truth make landfall.

Your promise to yourself was going to be broken, and so was your solitude. 

Because one way or another, you and Leon Kennedy were in this together, now. You did your best not to let that revelation distract you as you and he danced around the knife between you. Just as you tried not to notice the little flush on his cheeks whenever you would turn the blade and get just a little too close. The way his pretty, pale eyes lingered on your own. How much you didn't mind the attention. 

Forget playing with fire, you felt like you were entering a minefield. Something in you was screaming that continuing would just leave you in pieces.  

Even so, you felt yourself take that first step forward.

Chapter Text

Weeks went by, quick as the slash of a knife. Leon learned to think of each day as a step by step - get through each task, each lesson, then worry about the next. He didn’t give himself a chance to pause, or let the fatigue set in. Not if he could help it. What had him out of breath once, now he could weather with greater and greater ease. He could feel the change in his body; muscles hardening, his reflexes improving. His legs would carry him further, and his aim was steadier. He could feel himself being honed into something sharper, and there was some grim satisfaction in that. Even so, he preferred to focus on the other changes those weeks brought. 

Changes like the way you, on an unremarkable day, had set your tray down beside his at lunch, and didn’t look bothered when he did the same the following day. Or the way the conversations the two of you shared had slowly been growing longer. Many of those conversations were about the present - ways to improve, not just with knives, but with many aspects of STRATCOM training. Sometimes you would discuss music. Movies. Other interests. Leon clung to every piece of information you would give him, wanting to know more about you. 

And, of course, some conversations were about the past. Those ones were more painful, but no less important to Leon. 

“Is it alright,” he’d begun one night, a few days after your initial talk, “if I ask you about what happened that night?” 

You hadn’t looked too thrilled, but you didn’t look surprised, either. “You can ask,” you said, “but I may not answer.” 

“You said you weren’t in Raccoon City when you saw bioweapons. Where were you?” 

You’d blinked, braced yourself. “On base in Finland.” 

“Was it the same night you got hurt?” 

“Yes.”

“But . . . you were stabbed, weren’t you? With a knife?” 

“I was.” 

“But it wasn’t a bioweapon?” 

“No.”

“So then how did it happen?”

 You frowned, and whatever your reasons, Leon knew not to press further after you answered: “Pass.”  

A few days later, you had a question for him. 

“Do you know how the outbreak started in Raccoon City?” 

He’d been told not to speak on the matter. Why, he couldn’t say. Still, when it came to you, Leon decided that you deserved to know.

“Umbrella. The pharmaceutical company. They were experimenting with viral weaponry underneath the city.” Thinking of what he’d seen made Leon tense. Grip his knife tighter. 

“Umbrella.” You’d looked a little distant as you heard the words. “So, they . . . what, infected everyone up top?” 

“Not intentionally, I think. It was an accident.” And then he told you what he’d seen of the camera footage - the doctor, the armed men sent after him, and the broken vials of the viruses. “Rats found the vials. I think they spread it.” 

“And the men that went after the doctor. Do you know who they were working for?” 

“No, I’m not sure. He knew they were coming, though.” 

You’d hummed, thinking. “And you found all this on security camera footage? From inside the Umbrella labs?” 

“Yeah.”

“What the hell were you doing down there?” 

“I was looking for a sample of the virus. I . . .” he’d paused, choking on the memory of a woman in a red dress pressing her lips to his, and then holding a gun to his heart. “I thought it would help bring Umbrella down.” 

“Did you get it?” 

“. . . Pass.” 

You respected the end of the conversation just as much as Leon did, and just like that, the two of you had a system. An easy way out. A way to jump ship, to stop either of you from being lost in the memories. 

He told you the abstract. Zombies. Umbrella. The city being lost. 

He kept other things closer to his chest. Marvin, the glimpse into the life that could have been. Claire, the girl he’d come to respect more than almost anyone else. Sherry, the child who he’d given up his freedom for. Ada, the woman who he’d lost, not that he’d ever really had her to begin with. You didn’t need to know about them, and he didn’t need to know everyone you’d lost, either.

It felt good to have someone who understood. Someone who had been through that same hell. You didn’t pity him or what he’d been through, and what questions you asked weren’t an interrogation. Even if he wished that neither of you had been through what you’d been through, or seen what you’d seen, he was glad to have you - for company, and for help. The latter became all the more true when Krauser announced that Leon’s squad would be going through assessments. 

“Already?” you asked, when Leon mentioned it over lunch. “He’s moving fast.” 

“What’s he ‘assessing’? He wasn’t very clear,” Leon said, glad for the conversation taking his mind off the tasteless food he shoveled into his mouth. 

“Everything,” you said before taking a sip of water. 

“Everything.” Leon huffed. “Everything ‘soldier’ or everything ‘they’re going to make me retake the SAT?” 

You deadpanned in the way you usually would, raising a brow and almost - almost - letting the side of your mouth curl up into a smirk. “Fitness, marksmanship, combat. Everything he’s taught you so far . . .” you paused, considering something, “. . . and maybe some things he hasn’t.” 

“That is . . . not a whole lot more helpful.” 

“Well, giving away everything would defeat the point of the test.” 

“Right. So, if we pass, then what?” 

“Then you move to the next phase of training.” You took another sip. Your eyes didn’t break from his own. “Same as my unit.” 

The idea shouldn’t have made him as excited as it did. Advanced training meant more pain. More demanding exercises. More blood and bruises. It also meant that he would be one step closer to being ready. It meant that he would be able to manage whatever came his way. It meant, perhaps, that he would be in like company more often than just mealtimes and personal hours. That shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did. 

“So, maybe we branch out,” you offered, interrupting his thoughts as you rested your arms against the table. “Focus on more than just knives.” 

And that was how Leon found himself at the firing range that evening, holding a handgun instead of a knife. He might have hated how natural it felt to him, a few months ago. Now, it was a welcome relief. There was even some twisted excitement to it, because he’d agreed to this not only for the practice. You were at his side, holding your own gun like you’d been born with one in your hand. Part of him wouldn’t have been surprised if that were really the case. 

The two of you had headphones on, though something told Leon that both of you had long since begun to damage your hearing with the sound of gunfire. Still, any words would be muffled, so you didn’t speak. You just tilted your head towards the targets downrange. 

That was all the signal Leon needed. 

Live rounds. STRATCOM wanted the best from their recruits and didn’t mind fronting the money for the munitions. It meant that an officer stood on duty by the door, there to observe. Neither of you paid him much mind. 

There were twelve rounds in the magazine of his gun. Twelve times, as he pointed the gun forward, he squeezed the trigger. Twelve little ringing sounds as the shells fell to the floor. 

When those twelve rounds were fired, Leon felt a little swell of pride in him as he looked through twelve holes punched through the target. Not quite dead center on all of them, but damned close. 

He couldn’t help but look over at you, grinning like a bandit because, at last, he got to prove that he was good at something. If he was being honest with himself, that was part of why he’d agreed to this. He knew that you didn’t think less of him for his skill level in anything - you had never given him anything but respect. Still, it felt good to be able to show you that he wasn’t some helpless rookie. Not in every aspect, at least. 

It made the impressed look you gave him all the better. “Not bad,” Leon read your lips before you turned towards your own target, your eyes narrowing as you took aim. You were fast, firing with a practiced precision. Quick and efficient, the same way you fought. Leon watched as you tore through the target, his eyes switching between the range and the steady iron of your arms. 

When it was done, you stepped back, setting your pistol down and taking your headphones off. “Not so bad yourself,” Leon gestured down range. You’d shot about the same as he had, from the look of things, and he wouldn't have expected anything less.

“Years of practice,” you said, matter-of-factly. “You’ve got a natural talent, looks like. Or beginner’s luck.” 

“What? Don’t think I’ve had ‘years of practice’ too?” 

“Not with the military, you haven’t.” 

“That obvious?” 

“No soldiers I know have that haircut.” 

Leon, for all he had been through, all the times you’d handed his ass to him, felt himself go a little red at the comment. It must have been obvious, because you looked entirely too pleased with yourself. The grin you let slip made it worth it, he supposed. “You’ve been holding on to that one for a while now, haven’t you?” 

“Since day one,” you nodded, shifting your weight onto one leg and grabbing at the headphones around your neck. 

“Well, it’s not beginner’s luck,” Leon insisted, “I did have some training. I was going to be a cop.” 

“Of course, you were,” you shook your head, not at all surprised. “But what do you mean ‘going to be’?” 

He wasn’t sure if that night was getting easier to talk about, exactly, but Leon found the answer escaping him quickly all the same. “I really only got one day in.” 

“Ah,” you nodded, understanding as you always did. So much of what the two of you had shared about that night were the monstrosities. The why and how. Not so much what life was like before. 

“What about you?” he asked, eager to switch the subject off of his only day on the job. “How long have you been serving?” 

"A few years, now.” 

Leon let out a little huff of air, his eyebrows rising. “Did you join right out of high school?” You had to have - if he was guessing your age correctly. 

“Yep,” you nodded, your answer short and stiff. 

He wondered if he’d interpreted it correctly for only a moment before he asked another question. “Never thought of doing anything else?” He almost couldn’t picture it - you working some normal job in a city, spending hours a day at a desk or rushing between tables. You seemed so natural in this life . . . but he knew better than anyone that not everyone who was here had chosen to live this way. 

You paused, eyebrows drawn together as you thought. “I thought about it,” you finally admitted, and the resignation in your voice gave Leon pause. “Not sure what I would have done, to be honest.” 

“What made you join?” 

He expected the answer he got before you even opened your mouth. “Pass.” 

Another missing piece, but if it wasn’t one you wanted him to have, then he could do without. 

“Well,” Leon breathed, “you’re a damn good soldier. Whatever your reasons.” 

You looked up at him then, something flickering behind your eyes. “That wouldn’t be flattery, would it?” Your voice was low. Why was it so low? So the officer at the door wouldn’t hear? That had to be it. 

“Not flattery,” Leon shook his head, speaking earnestly. “Just fact.” 

You huffed, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “Alright, pretty boy-” you said it and Leon might have choked because he never - never - thought to hear those words from you, “-less talking, more shooting.” 

It wasn’t the first time he’d been called that here. He’d heard Valeria and some of the others refer to him that way - even Krauser, on a rare occasion. Always mocking, when it came to the Major. Hearing it from you . . . it shouldn’t have thrown him for a loop, but here he was, reeling like you’d knocked him in the back of the head. 

The last time he’d felt like that-

He wouldn’t let himself think of it. Not when he knew where that spiral of thoughts would lead him. Instead, he moved back to the firing range, about to slide the headphones back over his ears when your voice stopped him. 

“Tell you what,” you grinned, “we’ll keep score tonight. Whoever wins gets the knife tomorrow.” 

And whoever lost . . . “Fighting full out?” he asked, glad of the distraction - both from Ada’s memory and from the effect your words had on him. 

“Full out,” you nodded.

“. . . I don’t think I’d do very well against you unarmed,” Leon admitted, because he knew damn well that it was the truth. 

“Well,” you shrugged, pulling your headphones back on and glancing over at him with a smirk, “then I guess you’d better shoot straight.” 

Chapter Text

Flustered or not, Leon was, as you came to find out, a damn good shot. 

He would have had to have been, you supposed, to survive what he’d survived. Still, you found yourself very much impressed as the two of you spent your hour unloading magazine after magazine into the targets down range. You didn’t mind losing to him. 

Not when three points was all it took for him to smile the way he did. 

“If you can shoot like that now, just think of how good you’d be if you cut that hair so you could see,” you’d said, and you weren’t sure where the energy you had was coming from. 

Maybe you said it for the same reason you'd called him pretty; it was true, yes, but you also wanted to get a rise out of him. 

And a rise you got. “You must not hate my hair too much, if you think I’m pretty.” 

Oh, he was getting better at countering your jabs. Knives and words. And just like when he managed to get a successful counter in while sparring, you watched his eyes go a little wide as he realized what he’d just said. 

You were both flying by the seat of your pants, then. 

“I won’t matter how pretty you are if someone can throw you around by your fringe,” you said, ignoring the way it felt like you were walking over the edge of a cliff. Ignoring the way your mouth curled without you meaning it to. “And if I remember right, I’ve done it before.” 

“Guess I’ll just have to be extra careful, then.” His own smile returned, and it lingered until the two of you said your goodbyes. 

That smile made some stupid, sentimental part of you ache because it made him look young - young and proud and excited that he’d done well. For a moment, he looked like Raccoon City never happened. Like the two of you weren’t training to fight what spawned from mankind’s darkest ideas. For a moment, as Leon beamed at you, you could almost imagine that things were normal. Or, as normal as they ever had been for you. 

You felt that way more and more when you were around Leon - strange, because if anyone should remind you of what waited for you out there in the real world, it should have been him. Instead, you found yourself smiling more when you were around him than you had in the last year. The smiling wasn’t the dangerous part, though. 

Ever more, you were ignoring the warning bells in your mind in favor of holding his gaze for a second longer than you should have. Letting yourself study the strength of his jawline, the way the boyish fullness of his cheeks was sharpening into something harder. Or the way his arms were being cut by more and more defining lines. You let yourself say things you shouldn’t have because getting those little rises out of him made you feel . . . 

It made you feel something other than the misery you’d been wallowing in for so long. 

Something you almost felt you didn’t deserve. 

That had been the silent war your thoughts had been waging, because it was stupid to get close. It was completely and utterly reckless. 

And you thought of that smile as you went to bed that night, anyway, because it felt good to imagine something other than the snow and cold, and the dead eyes that waited for you in your dreams. Thinking of the warmth of his hand on top of yours, his smart mouth, or the way his cheeks and the tips of his ears would redden when he was embarrassed felt like you’d found a place to rest your weary bones. Maybe you could afford a moment of weakness, every so often. 

Thoughts were harmless without action to give them life. A gun with the safety on. You could think whatever you wanted. 

So long as it stayed safe in your mind, where it belonged. 

⧫⧫⧫

Pretty boy. 

It really shouldn’t have taken up such a big space in his head, but Leon found himself thinking of those words as he lay in bed that night. It didn’t stop the nightmares, but it was a far better thing to remember when morning came than rotting flesh, or heavy footfalls at his back. 

Or the feeling of someone’s hand slipping through his fingers. 

He would much rather think of you and whether you were being serious or not. 

That was the question he tried to puzzle out that day, well aware that he was putting too much thought into a single moment. A joke. Had to have been. 

Still, he sure as hell wanted more, whatever it was.  

So, when evening came and he met you in the training yard, he did so with a mission he had no notion of how to carry out. You were already there, as always, the sunset casting you in honey gold. You tossed him a knife. “As promised,” you said as Leon caught it. 

“So, what do I get if I win this time?” he asked, flipping the blade back and forth, just as you so often did. It was becoming more and more natural to him, now. 

Still, if it was natural for him, it was second nature for you. 

“I wouldn’t worry about something that’s not going to happen,” you shrugged, a glint in your eyes. You’d always seemed sure of yourself, but with the passing of the last few weeks, he’d come to see a different side of that confidence. One that wasn’t afraid to dish out a bit of trash talk. An Army brat, through and through. Leon didn’t mind it, so long as he could give as good as he got. 

He rushed forward, knife aimed at your chest. You moved just as fast as Leon knew you could, bringing your hand up to smack the blade away. A few weeks ago, you would have blocked him, but Leon had gotten faster since you began teaching him. 

More than that, he’d gotten wise to a few tricks. 

He tried not to be too proud that he was nearly fast enough to pull the feint off.  Still, as he changed his weapon’s course at the last minute and felt the blade catch your shirt, if not your skin. You felt it too, he could see it on your face as you leapt backwards to safety. “Don’t be so sure,” he breathed, locking eyes with you. “I learned from the best.” Flattery had worked the night before. Maybe-

“I’ll tell Krauser you said so.” 

“Not what I-”

“I know what you meant,” you nodded, eyes softening almost imperceptibly. “Now, come on.” 

You were all business when the knives were in play. He knew that. Still, it had been worth a try. Besides, he didn’t think he would ever get tired of watching you fight. Even if he was the one on the business end of your knife. 

You were a viper. When you reared up to strike, one couldn’t help but watch, wide-eyed as adrenaline filled them. Fear and bewilderment in equal measure. And when you moved, god help anyone within reach. You were too fast for him several times that night, as you always were. Too fast and too dangerously beautiful-

Focus. 

The difference lately was that Leon was beginning to move the same way. Those patterns that he’d been watching for from you, he’d finally begun to learn. You favored protecting your torso over your legs. You liked feints. Wrist locks and knocking him off his feet. Controlling his arm. All favorites that he learned to watch out for. It let him stay “alive” longer and longer. All secrets that helped him avoid a disarm, or a takedown. He was learning more than how to fight, he was learning you. For every disarm or takedown, he gave you a scrape or a bruise. You were showing him how to bridge the gap between the two of you. 

That was why he thought he had you when you bent his arm up after a jab at his side, the strain of it edging just short of real pain. 

Your hands were both occupied. His left wasn’t. 

He kicked towards your leg, and you shifted a bit to avoid it. 

His wrist being free was just enough mobility for him to toss the knife up. His left hand caught it, and again he just nearly missed the swipe he took at your head. You ducked under the swing in a blur of motion, and he followed through. You caught the attack, and again your hands were moving to control. Just as he knew you would. 

Shoulder protesting a bit at the speed with which he moved, Leon wove his arm under your own. You blocked the first strike. Just barely the second. 

Your bodies were pressed together, your hands just barely stopping him from checkmate. With steel just an inch from your throat, your lips parted as you looked up at him, first in surprise and then in struggle. Victory was there, within reach. So close Leon could reach out and grab it. Get drunk off of it. 

Drunk off of the idea of winning and drunk off the way you felt against him. 

Then he felt something else. The weaving of fingers through the hair on the back of his head. Gentle for only a millisecond. The sort of sensation that made it feel like someone had hooked him to a high-voltage battery. That gentleness died before it even drew its first breath as he remembered the warning you’d given him the day before. 

⧫⧫⧫

You’d done it to win, and maybe to prove a point. What you could never have predicted was that bragging rights were absolutely nothing next to the real prize. That being the sound that Leon Kennedy made that evening in the training yard when you pulled his head back by his hair. 

You’d heard his pained groans a hundred times now. This one, though . . . it was different. Throaty and strained, and downright sinful. No human being had a right to make that noise. Not in a situation like this. 

If that was the sound he made when he was in pain . . .

What were you doing?

Both of you froze as soon as you realized what had happened, staring at each other from a distance that seemed too far and too close all at once. His eyes were dark, even with how wide they were. His breathing shallow. His body tense. His lips parted. His throat was exposed, the knife in his hand still pressed against it. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thick. 

It was then that you realized just how far into that minefield you’d wandered.

And the way he was looking at you, those shadowed blue eyes searching your own, only made it worse. 

What the fuck were you doing?

“Told you about the hair,” you said, not of your own volition. Something cruel had a hold of you. Cruel and wild and full of a fire that burned you from the inside out. A year’s worth of pushing want down in favor of need was all threatening to split you open, now. 

You were stronger than your impulses, though. Or more cowardly than you’d like to admit. 

Whatever the case, you let go of Leon’s hair and stepped away because you knew if you didn’t, it would mean the beginning of something you couldn’t allow into reality. You just hoped that you had bailed out early enough, because as you moved away from him, that tension in the air remained. 

“You okay?” you asked after a moment of silence, because you genuinely didn’t know what else to say. 

“Yeah,” Leon nodded, and even if he was lying, you weren’t going to call him on it. Not right now. “Yeah. Just . . . point taken about the hair.” 

“Hmm,” you nodded back. 

Another beat of oppressive stillness, and you could only do your best to tread water through it. That, and try not to linger on the way Leon’s lips had looked only seconds ago. It was just a moment, and it passed. The safety was still on. 

“So, are you going to cut it?” you finally asked, pointing to his hair. 

Leon had looked lost up until that moment. Even as you spoke, it took him a second to register what you’d said. He looked at you for the first time since you’d let him go - just a glance, but one that let you know that you’d kicked up a storm in his mind. He breathed a single dry laugh and shook his head. “Not a chance.” 

⧫⧫⧫

He couldn’t sleep. And not entirely for the usual reasons. 

No, that night, Leon was kept awake by the memory of your hand in his hair and the sharp pain of you pulling on it. That, and the warmth of you being so close to him. The way your eyes had been so bright with an emotion he’d never seen in you before, one that burned low and true like embers. 

He replayed the moment in his mind, out of embarrassment, true, but also to chase the phantom of what he’d felt. It wasn’t the first time he’d thought of you in the dark - his thoughts had drifted to you more and more lately. That night, though, he wasn’t just thinking about you. He was imagining you. He imagined what you might feel like in his arms, what the skin beneath your shirt might feel like against his fingertips. 

He imagined what it might be like to feel the kiss of your lips instead of your steel. 

And as he imagined, he fought back the guilt that wrapped its cold hands around his throat. Who the guilt was owed to . . . that was becoming a more difficult thing to know.

Chapter Text

You remembered hearing about how comets could get stuck in orbit around a planet, pulled from their path by the force of gravity if all of the factors were right. It was something you’d heard in school at some point, in another life. It was impressive to think that something could be hurtling lost through space and still manage to get dragged off course. How could that even happen? How could everything in the universe line up just so - enough to stop such a force? To trap it? 

Now, you were starting to understand it.

Over the next few days, neither you nor Leon mentioned what happened, and you, for one, were glad of it. You weren’t sure what there was to say, anyway. Not when you both had other things to focus on. 

You were thankful for the preparations for assessments, because it was easiest to look Leon in the eye when you were giving a correction, or going on about what he might have to expect in the coming weeks. You might even have been able to pretend it hadn’t happened at all, were it not for the way you felt his eyes on you when he thought you weren’t looking. Or the way your own mind would conjure up some delicious impossibility when you let your guard down. 

Luckily, you’d had a year to learn how to fend off dangerous thoughts. Training was your weapon, and it had worked well enough so far. 

The trouble was in the company you kept. It was difficult to keep your mind off of Leon when he was at your side so often. At mealtimes and in your personal hours, you found your mind drifting. Even as the two of you sparred, or shot, or pushed yourselves through the obstacle course, imagination crept in. You would glance his way, catch sight of him straining against you in a fight, or aiming down the barrel of his pistol, and then you’d feel that pull. 

Then, you started feeling it even when Leon wasn’t around. 

You thought about sparring with him, pinning him to the ground and dragging your lips across his throat. You’d imagine him making those wonderful noises, looking at you with that same intensity he had when he fought. 

A momentary desire. A want that could be handled. That’s how you liked to think of it, because that was easiest. 

It was harmless enough, you thought, because how the hell would you make it work, anyway? You were training almost constantly, and even when you weren’t, the base was under constant surveillance. You were still technically a Sergeant, even here. Whatever Leon’s official rank was, you were fairly sure that you were a step up the ladder, and the rules were clearly set against that kind of fraternization. Even if Leon wanted you in the way that you wanted him - a possibility you were trying hard to talk yourself away from - there was almost no way the two of you could act on it. 

I wouldn’t worry about something that’s not going to happen.

You’d said that to Leon, and now you could take your own advice. 

And yet, you worried anyway. 

At a point, you stopped being angry with yourself about it. That point came not too long after you reported to Major Krauser after a night watch. 

You’d woken up before everyone else, readying yourself to be more exhausted than usual for the rest of the day. It was a long shift, as always, because there was seldom anything going wrong on base. The worst case scenario was usually a recruit trying to sneak out at night, or writing letters when they shouldn’t be. Still, you’d learned long ago to take the job seriously, and so you kept a watchful eye over the base as you went, noting that little nook by the officer’s barracks and on the west side behind the mess hall where you knew the cameras were blind. 

Places where you’d seen soldiers hiding out for a smoke, or to steal a drink, or . . . 

If indeed there was a world where you and Leon were to act on whatever was between you - if there was anything between you - then you supposed it might be there, in the blind spots of the cameras, when no one was looking. As you finished your watch, you couldn’t help but imagine that world, letting yourself indulge in the thought, however admittedly shameful a thought it was. 

You felt like you were getting away with some great crime, in a way. Or, you did, until after you gave your report and Krauser didn’t dismiss you right away. 

“You and the rookie,” Krauser began, and you felt your blood pressure skyrocket, your mind going on high alert. There was only one rookie he could be talking about. “You’ve been spending a lot of time together.” 

Your thoughts bombarded you in quick succession. 

He knows-

How the fuck would he know? 

He knows-

You’ve only been thinking-

“Yeah,” you nodded dumbly, trying to assess both what emotion the Major was speaking with and how guilty you looked. “I’m trying to get him up to speed.” You almost considered praying that he wouldn’t ask any of the questions you dreaded. Then again, whatever higher powers that were up there had never been merciful to you before, why would they start now? 

“You’ve done a good job,” Krauser said, and you wished you could enjoy the compliment. “He’s not hopeless anymore, I’ll give him that.” 

“He’s never been hopeless,” you defended, your affection for the man in question squeezing the words out of you. 

Krauser noticed. You could see it in his eyes - the way his mouth tightened. Still, he shrugged in the end. “Maybe not, but he’s actually keeping up, now. Hell, he’s doing better than most of his unit. Even if he’s soft.” 

That bit, you weren’t sure you could argue with. He’d jumped in to save you from being hurt, after all. He’d asked you about who you were as a person, what sort of music you liked. Who you wanted to be. Leon was not the hardened soldier that everyone else on base was. Maybe that was what endeared him to you, in a way. And maybe that was what scared you about him. How long would that soft side of him last? 

“He’ll get there,” you said, your voice quieter. 

“Not if he’s never challenged,” Krauser asserted, and you couldn’t help but furrow your brow. Every day in this place was a challenge. What the hell more did the Major want from him? “I know you’ve been giving him advice,” the man went on, “and that’s alright. Good, even. But I’m going to have your unit help me with their test, and I don’t want any details spilled. Understood?” 

Ah. That was what he wanted to talk about, then. Maybe you were in the clear, after all. “Understood, sir.” You said it because you were so relieved he wasn’t asking about you and Leon on a more personal level. Then, a beat passed, and you thought about what the Major was implying. “What are we going to be doing?” 

“We’ll start getting you ready for it tomorrow,” Krauser said, and that didn’t make you feel better whatsoever. “I’ll go over it when we meet for afternoon drills.” 

That was all the explanation you were going to get for now. Whatever it was, if your entire squad was going to be involved, then it was probably going to be bad. Different than your own assessment had been, all those weeks prior. Knowing Krauser, probably more brutal. You had something new to think about now, at least. Something constructive. Something attainable.

“Am I dismissed, sir?” you asked. 

You were more than a little surprised with the answer. “Not just yet,” Krauser shook his head, taking a step closer. “The rookie. He tell you about Raccoon City?” 

The question caught you off guard in a way that Major Krauser so often did, with words or weapons. 

“You know?” 

Stupid question. “I read his file. What they'd let me see. Know you two have some shared experience.” 

“. . . Yeah, he told me.” 

“And you told him?” 

The sky was bleeding a rising red. Bleeding just like you. You smelled smoke-

A shadow passed over the sun-

A red beret above you-

A gruff voice. “This one’s still alive!”

You weren’t supposed to have spoken about it, you supposed, but that didn’t change facts. “Part of it, yeah.” Krauser would either understand or he’d write you up. Maybe that discipline was what you needed. Maybe it would knock your head back into gear-

“Good.” Krauser nodded once with approval, and again you were a little shocked. “Need you two to stop feeling sorry for yourselves. If you have to pull each other out of the muck to do it, that’s fine by me.” 

A few years ago, that comment would have lit an inferno in you. It would have burned you up with rage, because who was this man to tell you how to live with your own grief? Who was this bastard to say that you couldn’t mourn for the life and the people that you lost? You were different now, though. You’d served for long enough to know a hardass drill sergeant’s talk when you heard it, and you knew Jack Krauser well enough to know when he was pushing you forward instead of holding you down. This, however harsh, was the former. 

“Will do, sir,” you nodded, almost smiling. You have been doing a lot of that, lately. 

Krauser didn’t quite return the look, but that was alright. He just nodded, seemingly content that he’d made the points he wanted to make. “Dismissed.” 

⧫⧫⧫

He knew it was a dream. 

It had to be, because there was no way you were actually underneath him, hands clutching at him. Looking up at him with wide, dark-fire eyes. Your fingers wove in his hair, pulling him down-

Down-

Down-

Until his lips were against your own. 

Oh, it was a dream. One he’d been having more and more, lately. And however wrong it was, however Leon knew it improper to be thinking of you like this, he let himself drift through it. Get lost in it. It was so much sweeter than his dreams had been of late, how could he not savor the little whispers of his name from you? 

How could he not let himself sink into that bliss? 

How could he not try to memorize the way your hand felt as he took it in his own? 

The way you clung to each other like a lifeline-

The way your breath hitched-

The way the world seemed to fall away-

“Did you forget about me that quickly?” The words turned his blood to ice. It wasn’t your voice. No, he would know that voice anywhere. Dreams were the only place he could hear it, now. 

He wasn’t kissing you, anymore. You were falling away from him, the ground giving way . . . and then, you weren’t you. Just as she had so many nights before, Ada was looking up at him, her gaze as dark as the emptiness that waited for her, if Leon let go.  So, he held on, knuckles turning white, wishing that he could change the past. 

But this was a dream. Not real. Just a reminder of hard truths. 

Most nights, though, when he dreamed of Ada falling, she seemed accepting. Afraid, but accepting. Now, as her hand slipped from Leon’s, there was nothing but accusation in her eyes as she fell down-

Down-

Down-

Until she was gone, like she had never truly been in the first place. 

⧫⧫⧫

Whatever nonsense you were planning, it was curbed when you saw that Leon was sitting by himself at lunch.

It wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was that when you moved to join him, he glanced up at you, and then looked back down just as quickly. His jaw tightened. He gave you a mumbled greeting, and then went quiet. 

“You alright?” you asked, and he took a breath before he answered. 

“Yeah. I just didn’t sleep well.” 

You knew well enough what that meant, no one better. Krauser’s words lingered in your head, joining the concern that was already there. However else you were thinking of Leon lately, he had been there for you. Least you could do was return the favor.  “Do you want to talk about it?” 

He looked up at you, conflict plain in his expression. Whatever was happening in his mind, his answer was simple. “Pass.” 

You’d both long since learned to respect that much from each other, so you nodded and let the subject drop. Even if you wanted to dig deeper. Even if it was plain that Leon was far from “fine”. But you were the last person alive who could accuse someone of hiding what they were feeling, or not wanting to talk about it. You’d been doing it for a year now, after all.  

“Knives today?” You asked, when the silence grew to be too much. 

Leon just nodded. 

⧫⧫⧫

Leon understood how you could get so lost in a fight, now. He knew why you would spar to clear your head. There was so little room for other thoughts when you were truly in the moment, when all you let yourself think of was the blade you were up against. The blade, and not the person. 

Easier said than done, when you were the one holding that knife. 

Still, for the most part, Leon found that he was able to keep his thoughts on the combat. Moves and countermoves. You’d advance, and he would block. Answer your attack with one of his own. It all started to blur together, his mind rushing to keep up with you. It was getting easier. He almost forgot the dream that had him in a chokehold all day. Then, everything would get muddled when you would pause at a safe distance, your eyes finding his own as the two of you planned your next move. Or, when in the heat of the moment, the two of you would find yourselves locked together, struggling to get a knife around the other’s guard. 

Those were the moments when Leon’s will would falter. 

-his lips were against your own-

-you clung to each other-

-her hand slipped from Leon’s-

He swore beneath his breath as your knife smashed against his fingers, and he took a moment to shake the pain from his hand. 

“You sure you’re alright?” 

You would be able to tell that his mind was a mess. Right now, though, he wished that he was a stone wall. Unreadable. He didn’t want you to so easily tell what was happening behind his eyes. “Yeah,” he lied again, “I’m alright.” 

The look you gave him spoke for itself. That’s bullshit.

Even with that look, though, you didn’t push him. Because you were, beneath all that training and cold steel focus, a good person. Leon knew it, even if you likely wouldn’t agree. He knew it, and it made things all the more difficult. If you were just some emotionless soldier, intent on molding yourself into a killing machine, he could have ignored what he was feeling. Instead, you were . . . well, you.

“Okay. Just focus on me, alright?” you said, your voice quiet and steady and just a touch too compassionate. He shouldn’t begrudge you that compassion, but his emotions were jumbled as it was. 

Still, he followed your command, doing his best to quiet his more traitorous thoughts. It got easier when, after a quick exchange of attacks, he managed to get his knife through your guard, pressing the tip of its blade to your chest. 

Victories were coming more and more often now, but each time Leon won against you, he couldn’t help but feel proud. Even now, when his mind was all shadows and doubts. Of course, encouragement from you didn’t hurt, either. 

“There you go,” you praised as he stepped away. You were smiling.

God, your smile. 

“You know, you’re getting pretty good at this.” 

The compliment did raise his mood, despite everything. “Good enough to pass assessments?” 

“You’d better be, or what the hell have we been doing this whole time?” It was said with good humor, and it made Leon huff a little laugh. 

“Fair enough.” 

“You’ll be fine,” you reassured him, and he had no choice but to believe you, when you were looking at him like that. “That said, you up for a challenge?” you asked, the concern on your face being replaced with a grin. 

He loved it when you smiled like that - it made your eyes light up like a devil that meant well but was going to leave a trail of fire behind them anyway. You were trying to distract him, he figured. Trying to get his mind off of whatever was bothering him the only way you knew how. A challenge with you was usually more of an impossible feat - something he could strive for, but never quite achieved. Still, because he needed that distraction, he found himself nodding. “Sure.” 

With that, you slid your knife into the pocket of your fatigues. Armed versus unarmed. Same way you’d fought him on that first day. “Let’s see how many wins you can get in a row.” You bent your knees, getting into a ready stance. 

Leon felt the corners of his mouth curve upward. “Wouldn’t it be more of a challenge if you were armed?” 

“Well, maybe I wanted a challenge, too.” You swiped at his knife hand, knocking it out of the way for a stomach jab. 

Leon blocked. Slashed at your arm. Near miss. 

He pushed the offensive, just as he’d been taught. By Krauser. By you. 

You tried to catch his wrist, but he twisted away. Instinct guided him to his first victory - a knife slashed across your belly too fast for you to avoid in time. You didn’t wince away from it, and Leon was glad of that. In fact, you gave him an approving nod. “That’s one.” 

The second victory went to you, when you leveraged the knife out of his hand and the unarmed bout that followed ended with you locking your arms around his neck from behind. “And one for me,” you said, and he could feel your breath hot against his ear before you let him go. You’d been on top of him hundreds of times, now. Why was it now that feeling you against him set his blood pounding? 

He knew that, on some level, it was because of the whispers of fantasies he’d indulged in of late. Dreams that he’d let play out when he shouldn’t have. 

Focus. 

Another round. His win. He switched hands as you tried to bind his attack away, caught you first in the arm, and then later in the well between your neck and shoulder. You were breathing heavy, your eyes filled with what Leon could only hope was determination. 

On and on the two of you went, fighting with everything you had. You had more wins, overall, but it was no surprise. The fact that Leon was winning at all was a step in the right direction. 

And as the two of you fought, Leon felt the despair that had been dragging him down all day begin to fade. Each of your little smiles, or jabbing comments pulled him into the moment. The here and now. You didn’t give him the opportunity to think of the past, because if he let himself slip, he would lose. 

That became abundantly clear when you stripped the knife from his hand and came at him. Now he was on the defensive, his body alight with electricity as he realized the danger he was in. 

You slashed at him once. Twice. Leon just barely got out of the way in time. 

A kick sent Leon backwards, and he rolled to come up on all fours just in time to see you rushing him. 

The sun had set. The only lights were the street lamps overhead and the dim light coming from the officer’s bunkhouse. Still, it was enough to catch on the blade of your knife as you brought it down on him, holding it in reverse like the fang of a spider ready to pierce his skin. 

The light caught the blade in your hand, yes, but it also caught the handle of the one still in your pocket. 

Leon took the chance without thinking, rising onto one knee and moving one arm to block as the other went for your hip. Your eyes widened as he closed his fingers around the knife, and you moved to stop him too late. He pulled the weapon free of your pocket, cutting an imagined line across your stomach before holding it to the inside of the leg that was forward. Right where the femoral artery ran beneath the skin and muscle - a place that would bleed you fast in the real world. 

So close to a more compromising position, that Leon nearly froze as he realized just where he’d placed that knife. 

Nearly. 

Instead, he found himself keeping the blade there, and looking up at you with an almost-grin of his own. All that kept it from a full smile was the uncertainty of what your reaction would be to the move. You looked surprised, yes. But there was something else there, too. Something darker that danced where the lamplight couldn’t reach. Even if you’d just lost the fight, you looked otherworldly standing over him. “Smooth move, pretty boy.” 

Something in him tensed at the nickname. Sparked. He was losing the fight against those thoughts of his. Had to push through. “Sorry,” he said, even if he didn’t really mean it. “That was kind of cheap-”

“No, it was smart.” You lowered your still raised knife, and Leon let his blocking arm relax. He let his knife fall away, too, glad of the low light hiding the redness in his cheeks and ears as he rose. “If it’s there, might as well use it.” Even so, you went and put the knife back on the table where it belonged. “Now, let’s see if you can find other ways to surprise me.” 

Leon took to the challenge eagerly and won the next round in doing so. Your head tilted back on instinct as he rested the knife against your neck, and there was no anger at the defeat to be found. You were both tired. You shared the same quick breathing and pounding hearts. Sweat beaded at your brow, the same as it did at Leon’s. The day was almost over. All that to say, Leon wasn’t surprised when you grinned at him over the knife. “Think you can make it to three?” you didn’t move away as you spoke. 

What he’d dreamed of didn’t matter anymore. Only this moment did. However dangerous it was. 

“Do I get anything if I win?” 

You didn’t break his gaze as you answered. It let him see the way your pupils dilated, and with the way his blood was pounding in his ears, there was no guilt to be found at the way it made him feel. “I’m sure I’ll think of something,” you said, and Leon knew that he had to win.  

And so, the last fight of the evening began, set to the tune of the radio as it always was. Leon paid the music no mind, because the dance that the two of you were locked in was something else entirely. Something that no music could ever hope to score. 

It went on for a long time - Leon swinging the knife at you, and you avoiding it. You stepped back and to the side, but never forward. Never towards him. After hours of you teaching Leon to get in close, Leon knew that you were planning something. The wildness in your eyes only confirmed it. 

Wild and alive - so different from the way you’d looked on that first day. He’d thought you were ice, then. Now, he was staring at a crackling flame and couldn’t look away.

You exhaled as you retreated from another attack, stopping just short of the wall of the officer’s barracks. “What are you doing all the way over there?” Leon asked, fairly sure that you’d spoken those exact words to him at one point or another. 

You just shrugged, keeping your guard up. “Waiting.” 

“Could be waiting a while.” 

There was that devil-grin again. “Then come and get me.” 

Leon knew it was a trap. You’d all but spelled it out for him. Still, he advanced, taking a few more swings. If he could get you caught against the wall, then he might be able to get the upper hand. Slash, slash, and thrust. The last one aimed at your heart, meant to get you to back up. 

He supposed that he should have known not to back you into a corner. 

You reached for Leon’s arm before he could pull it away, trying to trap his hand against your chest. So you could pull the knife free, he thought, but was quickly proven wrong as you turned and dropped down. Your back to his, your free arm bracing against his own, and Leon had only an instant to prepare as you leveraged his body over your shoulder. 

The impact came hard and fast, and his entire body shook with the force of it, and he couldn’t help the yelp he made as the air was knocked from him. 

He felt the knife get pulled from his grip, but he was lucky enough to get his feet under him quickly. Dazed, he forced himself around the moment he could. His free hand found the back of your knee, his shoulder bracing against your stomach just as he felt the knife come down on it. He probably could have stopped there, called it a defeat, but he was already moving and there was no stopping his momentum as he pushed all his weight against you, pulling your leg forward at the same time. You toppled over, your back kicking up dust as you hit the ground. 

The struggle that followed was a blur. All Leon could think was that you still had the knife, and that he had to get it away. Down and away. Your surprise was probably all that saved him.

He pushed himself up and forward, arms moving against yours. Grunts and groans, the sound of boots scraping at the dirt, and then metal hitting the ground as Leon pinned your arm down to the side. 

His forearm came down over your throat, stopping just short of applying any real pressure. The rest of him was atop you, keeping you firmly against the ground. He was so caught in making sure you couldn’t escape, in the way his head was still spinning from his fall, that it took several seconds for him to realize that he’d won. 

When that realization came, though, it didn’t matter. Not when you were looking up at him the way you were. Winning didn’t mean a goddamn thing, because his face was so close to yours, and your eyes were dark - so, so dark - as they searched his own. A fire so dark it burned black. A sea so deep, he couldn't see the bottom. Couldn’t even imagine it. 

And both of you were at its edge, silently asking each other the same question. 

Should we jump?

He didn’t get to answer the question for himself before he felt your lips against his. 

You’d kissed him. 

For reasons he couldn’t fathom and didn’t care to, you had kissed him. 

The moment was stretched and pulled every which way, and Leon could only struggle to grasp onto something he could make sense of. Closed his eyes so the rest of him could get a clearer picture. He was aware of the way he took a sharp breath when he felt you against him. Your body was beneath his, and the warmth of it was suddenly so strange. He wanted to sink into it all the same. Get lost in it. He had to move the arm at your neck when he felt you straining against it. And your lips . . . he couldn’t help but move his own against them, tasting the dust you were both covered in. He couldn’t help but breathe his dream into reality, happy to do it for once.

Happy because how long had he wanted to press his mouth to yours? How many weeks had he imagined this moment in one way or another? How many nights had he dreamed of your hand weaving through his hair, pulling him down-

Down- 

Down-

Until she was gone, like she had never truly been in the first place-

The memory struck him like a bullet, tearing clean through him so fast he didn’t fully realize it had hit him. Ada. Her lips against his. Her eyes looking up at him. Accusing. “Did you forget about me that quickly?”  That wasn’t a memory, but it stung like one. It rotted away at him, poisoning him with one thought above all else.

How could you? 

And in the moment of panic that followed, Leon pulled back, like he was flinching away from something hurting him. He didn’t even fully realize that you’d stopped moving your lips. That you’d taken your hand from his hair. 

All he knew was that you didn’t chase him when he pulled away. Instead, he found your eyes distant. 

“We can’t do this.” You said it like you’d known it all along. Like you knew whatever was between you was moments away from dying, and there was nothing you could do to save it. Or, maybe, like you were steeling yourself to let it go. 

“I’m sorry-” he said, but you shook your head. Didn’t let him try to explain the disaster of his thoughts. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” Your voice sounded empty. That mask of calm was back on, and Leon felt like he was watching you slip through his fingers, too. “Can you let me up?” 

Leon did as he was asked, his body moving while his mind stayed behind, trying to pick up the pieces. To figure out what had just happened. To staunch the bleeding, even if it was too late. He only remembered to give you a hand when you were already halfway to your feet, and if you saw the offer, you didn’t take it. 

He had to say something. Had to explain-

Saying your name caught your attention, but you didn’t hold his gaze for long. “I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t worry about it.” You didn’t let him finish, and it ran a line of frustration through him. Before he could even think to protest otherwise, you were continuing on, your words strung tight, ready to snap. “Let’s call it a night, yeah?” 

He could have refused. 

He could have insisted that you talk, that you clear up everything that had just happened. That way, he could tell you why he’d pulled back. Maybe learn why you’d let him. But lights out was soon, and there wasn’t enough time in the world to explain himself. If you even wanted an explanation. So, in the end, Leon just nodded, his words just above a whisper. 

“Okay. Good night.” 

⧫⧫⧫

You watched him go, trying hard to ignore whatever was squeezing your chest. Constricting it. Panic and longing in equal measure, you supposed. 

You’d stopped it. 

You’d stopped before it could get worse. 

That was what mattered. 

You were safer this way. You both were.

You busied yourself with putting the knives away. Straightening yourself up. Then, when you were sure you were well and truly alone, you let yourself hunch over, bracing against the locker where the training equipment was kept. There was too much to think of; you couldn’t get a lock on any one thing. It all came at you sideways and backwards, and there was nothing you could do but take the blows because you should have known better. 

You should have fucking known better.

Chapter Text

As much as he stared at it that night, the ceiling of the barracks held no answers for Leon. No advice. Just roof paneling and shadows, the sort of bland nothingness that he could get lost in, that his mind would give shape and form. 

He didn’t even have to wait for dreams to relive this newest shame. Shame, confusion and all manner of other emotions that ran through him. There would be no quieting his mind. No escape from it. All he could do was try to make sense of it all. 

You’d kissed him. You had been the one to lean up, to initiate it. He was sure of that. He was sure that he’d kissed you back. 

He was also sure that you’d stilled against his lips just before he’d pulled away. 

What he had to take time to decipher was the look you’d given him when he pulled away. There had been no change - no sign that you were surprised by his actions. It hadn’t been anger or hurt. It hadn’t been anything at all. You were somewhere else - detached from yourself. The same way you would look when Leon asked a question you wouldn’t answer, he realized. Somewhere safe. 

You’d retreated just as he had. 

You just hadn’t flinched away from him. That was what really ate at him: the fact that you’d opened up to him in a way he’d wanted so desperately, and he’d gone and fucked it up. All for the memory of a woman who’d used him. Betrayed him. A woman he’d only known for a handful of hours.

A woman who, when the time came, still chose him over her mission. 

Sleep found him out of necessity, at some point in the night; the kind of sleep that felt like he blinked and then it was time to get up. Still, when he did push himself out of his bunk, dragging a hand across his face to ease the weariness from himself, Leon had come to a conclusion:

He shouldn’t have left it like that. 

He couldn’t leave it like that. 

And so, when breakfast came, he made his way to where you were sitting, even as each step made his insides jumble. There was tension between the two of you, big and real enough that Leon could feel it pushing and pulling at him, driving him away and urging him forward. 

“Can we talk?” Leon’s voice was low, so the rest of the mess hall couldn’t hear. 

Even so, you looked up at him like he’d just shouted the events of the previous night to the heavens, your eyes flitting around like you were checking that no one had heard him. Or maybe you just didn’t want to look him in the eye. After last night, he couldn’t blame you. It was hard enough for him to be standing there, but he needed to do this. He owed it to you as much as himself. 

He would extend the olive branch. It was up to you to take it, now. 

When you finally met his eyes and let the gaze linger, Leon wondered for a moment if you would just refuse him. You had a right to, he supposed. He would deal with the grief if that was the case. 

“About . . .” you didn’t speak it into reality. Didn’t need to. 

Leon just nodded in response. Felt his throat go a little dry. 

You looked at him then, and Leon wished he could say he knew what was happening in your mind. He wished he could find his own words more easily. He wished for so many things, and many of them began to crack and spider-web when your eyes hardened. “Don’t know what there is to talk about. I fucked up. Won’t happen again.” Your words snagged on something - anger, Leon supposed. It wasn’t directed at him. 

Whatever it was, the thread it pulled loose left Leon feeling like he was coming apart at the seams. He said your name, and the sound of it made your jaw clench. “You didn’t do anything wrong-”

“Yes, I did,” you countered, and Leon knew he wasn’t the only one unraveling. “Just . . . just give me time. Let me sort myself out. Then we’ll talk. Okay?” 

Your tone gave him pause, because you sounded so genuinely overwhelmed, even with how quiet you were making sure to be. You’d never pleaded with him for anything in all the time he’d known you, and seeing it now, Leon realized just how shaken you were. So, even if it wasn’t what he wanted, even if everything in him was demanding he set the record straight, Leon nodded. 

“Okay.” 

He knew what it was to need to be alone, after all. Even if you were the one who had broken him free of that need, he would respect it for you now. 

Still, that night when he found the training yard empty of you, something in his heart twinged. 

Major Krauser - or whoever was choosing the tracks back at the radio station that night - either had a cosmically, ironically bad sense of humor, or the universe really just wanted to kick Leon while he was down.  That was what he decided as he heard the Beatles playing from the bunkhouse radio. 

“There’s a shadow hanging over me-”

“Oh, yesterday came so suddenly-”

Of all the days the bastard decides to choose a new station . . . 

Leon listened to the song as he took up a knife and began running old drills, imagining an opponent in front of him. Imagining you. 

⧫⧫⧫

You hadn’t realized just how much you’d come to rely on Leon Kennedy in these last few weeks. That harsh reality came crashing down on you as you returned to your solitude. You’d come to enjoy his company, but that was obvious, wasn’t it? The problem was that you’d come to enjoy it too much. Enough to ignore sense and kiss him. 

Time would help. Time would be what you needed to get your emotions under control, so that the two of you could get back to preparing for what actually mattered. 

At least, that was the plan. 

So, you trained alone just as you used to - or asked your squad mates when it became necessary. “Not going to be with the pretty boy tonight?” Valeria asked when you approached her. 

Any response to those kinds of questions was brief, because you didn’t want to think about it anymore than you had to. “Not tonight.” 

You knew that you were leaving him out to dry - especially with assessments approaching. Maybe it would be good for him, you reasoned. Maybe it would force him to branch out - seek other help, if he needed it. You didn’t have all the answers, after all. You wouldn’t always be there to offer advice, and what were you all being trained for if not to be able to adapt on your own? Leon was skilled. More so than he gave himself credit for. He would be fine. Still, as the days went by and Krauser instructed your unit on what you would be doing, you found yourself wanting to reach out. To give him some hints about the storm that was coming. 

Cowardice stopped you. You wanted to give it another name, but you knew deep down what it really was. Cowardice and the memory of what it was to be made alone instead of choosing it. 

This was for the best. 

If you could forget your feelings, then you both would be safer for it. 

Easier said than done, you realized, as those days went by and, in those quiet moments, you would find yourself lingering on how Leon’s body had felt atop yours. Or how soft his lips had been. You longed for that feeling in the late hours, even as it gave your guilt more power over you. More than that, you longed for Leon’s smile. His laughs. His quick wit. His presence. 

Him.

And that was exactly why you felt you had to stay away. 

“You with us?” Krauser’s question one day made you realize you weren’t hiding your thoughts as well as you’d hoped. 

“Yes, sir,” you nodded, only then realizing that he was holding something out towards you. A dark shape with straps and two glass lenses. A gas mask, you realized. So similar to one you’d seen before. To one you saw almost every night. 

“It’s called ‘at attention’ for a reason.” Krauser was eying you like a puzzle to be solved. It set you straight quicker than anything else could. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Whatever he was searching for in you, he didn’t seem convinced that he’d found it. Still, he gestured towards the rest of your squad, all of them filing in through a metal door. Darkness waited on the other side. “Fall in.” 

At least it was an easy order to follow. 

⧫⧫⧫

The bruises that painted Leon’s skin told the story of the following days - days spent pushing himself to his limits. You wanted time, and he would give it to you. After all you’d done for him, it was the least he could do. Even if every day that passed made him want to speak to you more - to clear the air. Even if your avoidance gave him some selfish anger. Training was the easiest thing to focus on, so he threw himself into it completely. 

He hadn’t fully realized just how proficient he’d become with a knife - when he was up against you every night, there was a constant reminder of how much further he had to go. Now that he was just fighting his own squad, each day was filled with more success than failure - more victories than defeats. Leon felt like he couldn’t even savor those victories. Not fully, because there was no one to share them with at the end of the day. No one pushed him to become even better. 

So, part of him was almost grateful when Alenko approached him. Another part of him wanted not to be bothered. The man was older than him, but not by much - square jaw, dark eyes and close cropped hair befitting a soldier. He sported his fair share of bruises, too, and Leon guessed that was why he ended up finding his way to Leon in the training yard on that second day of solitude. 

“Not working with the Sergeant?” Alenko asked, and Leon hoped the frown he made didn’t give away too much. 

“No, not lately.” 

Alenko didn’t seem to read much into the answer. “Well, if you’re looking for a sparring partner, I could step in.”

Leon paused, struck by how little he wanted to say yes. Still, he ended up nodding anyway. He needed practice against a real opponent. Even if, in the end, he wound up winning more often than not against the soldier. The last fight of the night ended with the soldier straining against the ground, and Leon holding his arm in a lock you’d used on him so many times in the past. “Hell of a showing, Kennedy,” Alenko complimented, taking the hand Leon offered when he let him up. “Guess all that work’s been paying off.” 

But it didn’t feel like it was. Not when the dreams went on, reminding him of all that he’d failed to protect, and all that stood to be lost. 

So, on that third day without more than a distant look from you, Leon went in search of someone who could teach him something new - who would know how to point out the flaws in his fighting and help him become better. 

Major Krauser, when asked to spar, grinned and Leon was reminded of that hard truth he’d learned so early in training. “Careful what you wish for, rookie.” 

Those bruises that Leon had already acquired were given like company all too quickly, and Leon found his eyes wide and his heart beating fast as the Major circled him. He’d fought Krauser before. Everyone in his squad had. That didn’t make this time any easier. There was never a chance in hell that he’d win, and he knew that going in. Still, he found himself getting angry with each defeat. His frustration had him baring his teeth, shoving himself off the ground and attacking again. 

Or maybe it was more than the frustration of losing over and over. After all, he’d long since grown used to that feeling. 

“Ah, you’re getting sloppy,” Krauser observed, when Leon swung a wide attack at him - one the Major easily dodged. Leon was punished for the reckless attack with a kick to the side, one that cracked hard against his lower ribs. “Thought you wanted to fight.” 

Leon answered with violence and was met with it in equal measure. 

And then he was grinding his teeth as a blunted knife was driven into his gut. 

“Focus!” Krauser hissed, pressing the knife into Leon’s stomach harder before backing away, punctuating his command with steel. 

The rough treatment made Leon’s anger flare, but he didn’t attack. He knew that Krauser was baiting him. Instead, he waited, watching as Krauser switched to a reverse grip. He loved that grip. It fit him, too. To Leon, it seemed more vicious - just the way Krauser liked to fight. 

He brought that knife down in an overhead stab, and Leon moved. Ducked when Krauser slashed at him.  

Leon brought his knife across for an attack at the Major’s side but knew mid-swing that it wasn’t going to hit. That he’d made a mistake. 

Krauser caught his forearm and Leon’s eyes widened as he saw the knife coming at his throat. His hand braced against the Major’s, stopping it. Leon’s eyes flit about, looking for where was open. Where next to attack. 

He wasn’t even really sure where he was going for, but whatever it was, Krauser stopped him with one hand on his wrist, the other moving like lightning to his neck. And over the glinting steel, Leon’s commanding officer looked disappointed. 

“You don’t get to choose to have a clear head in a fight. You either set your shit aside, or you die.” 

“I know.”

“Do you? ‘Cause you’re sure as shit not here.” 

Leon looked down, his brows lowering as Krauser stepped away. He was here, and that was the problem. He was here in a place he hadn’t chosen, training for a fight that had been forced on him and doing it all without the support of the one person who understood it all. So, yeah, he was pissed. He was pissed, but Krauser was right. He couldn’t let it become a hindrance to him. 

“Sorry, sir,” Leon breathed.

The Major just shook his head. “Don’t be sorry, just fix it.” He sighed, rolling his shoulders as he studied Leon. “You, your Sergeant . . . feel like a goddamn broken record.” 

That caught Leon’s attention, sure as a favorite song. “Sir?” 

Krauser, for the first time, seemed genuinely exasperated as he spoke. “Same thing I’ve been repeating since Finland. Thought I was finally getting through, but then lately it’s been more of the same.” 

It was a statement that had a thousand questions growing off of it. Even so, even with all of them, Leon knew with certainty which one he was going to ask first. “You were there? In Finland?” 

Krauser’s pale brow furrowed. “Thought you two traded horror stories?” 

Leon pursed his lips, more than a little troubled by the fact that Krauser knew. “I’ve . . . heard pieces of it. Did you see-” 

“What? Bioweapons?” Krauser seemed to read Leon’s mind. “No. Just the aftermath.” The older man seemed to make up his mind on something before he went on. “We lost contact with the base up there, so they sent us to investigate. All we found was fire, bodies that didn’t look like men and one survivor bleeding out in the snow outside.” 

The words set a chill in Leon’s blood. You’d never said outright that you were the only survivor of what happened. He could have put two and two together, he supposed - you hadn’t made a claim to know anyone else on base, and you hadn’t spoken of your past comrades. Still, hearing it outright . . . 

“I pulled ‘em out of there, gave my report, and then the government handled the rest. Anything else isn’t my business to tell.” 

Leon nodded. He wouldn’t want to learn all the finer details from anyone but you. 

“All this to say: both of you need to focus on the here and now. You especially, because I’m not going to give you any special treatment because of what you’ve been through, or because you showed up here a rookie cop without a day of training.” It wasn’t true, but Leon knew Krauser wasn’t talking to be correct. He was trying to make a point. And that point found its way home. 

“I can handle whatever you throw at me,” Leon resolved. He didn’t flinch when Krauser grinned. 

“That’s what every rookie says. We’ll see if it’s true.” 

Krauser could be as skeptical as he wanted. It wouldn’t change the fact that Leon had been through this much already. He’d survived what no one had any right to. He could pass whatever tests Krauser had planned. And he could give you time if you needed it. He could bear being alone for a while, and he would bear whatever you decided to make of what was between the two of you. So long as you could be there for each other in some way, that would be enough. Even if it was just offering advice on how best to survive in this terrible new world you were both living in. 

⧫⧫⧫

Leon rose bright and early the next day with the rest of his squad to an announcement. Krauser greeted them all before breakfast began, his beret a bright red against the lights illuminating the dark.

“You’ve all made progress. Some more than others. Now, it’s time to see if you can put what you’ve learned to use.” Leon braced himself. His whole squad did. They all knew what was coming next. “Now, normally, you’d be tested to see if you’re ready to move up to the next stage of training. Firearms, weapons maintenance, the works. Pass or fail. But that’s Army. This is STRATCOM, and you’re all very special students, aren’t you?” His smile was as big a warning as they would ever get that what was to come would not be easy. “They want the best, and the best get more difficult tests. Those tests begin right now. Consider every second of the next forty-eight hours to be go-time. Everything you do will be measured and evaluated. If, at the end of it all, you’ve done well enough, then congratulations! You’ve gotten through a taste test of what’s coming your way. Are we clear?” 

“Sir, yes sir!” the unit responded. As if there was any other answer. 

“Good. Now, grab your gear. We’re going for a ruck.” 

And so the day began with a run and without any breakfast. It set tempers high, but everyone knew better than to let it get to them, now. This was a test, after all. One of resolve. Leon paced himself as best he could, glad of the cool morning air if nothing else. He used the opportunity to try and prepare for what might be next. 

“Fitness, marksmanship, combat. Everything he’s taught you so far . . . and maybe some things he hasn’t.” 

That was what you’d told him about the assessments. What you’d been preparing him for. He was grateful for those nights spent at the range, or in the training yard as the day went on. He found himself focusing solely on the task at hand as he disassembled a rifle and put it back together in record time or fired off a near-perfect round of shots into the targets down range. He was doing well. All of his squad was. They’d been run hard, but it was paying off, now. In those first few hours, things didn’t seem like they would be so bad. 

The thing that gave Leon pause was when he realized you weren’t at lunch. 

He’d made a habit of looking for you over the last few days, even if he was a little embarrassed to admit it. It had been mostly to see if you were ready to talk at last, and in those four days, you had remained seated with your squad, eating silently. Now, though, there was an empty spot where you usually were. 

And an empty table that your squad usually occupied. 

“Where is everyone?” Williams asked, picking up on the same thing that Leon had. 

“Maybe they’re running training off-base?” Alenko offered. 

“Or maybe something’s up,” Leon murmured, feeling suddenly on edge. 

He searched for you and your missing squad mates as afternoon drills went by - eyes scanning the base as his unit faced each other down in sparring matches. He almost lost one such match, he was so focused on where you might be. 

Then came the second run of the day, this one longer and under the hot midday sun. No one complained, they just ran through the exhaustion as they had been trained to, and Leon kept your words in mind. “Maybe some things he hasn’t.” He kept an eye trained on the tree line, looking out for movement. When there was none to be found and everyone made it back to base well enough, that feeling of anxiety didn’t leave. 

Especially not when he found that you and your squad weren’t at dinner, either. 

The day was wrapped up on the obstacle course, the time there taking up what would normally be time Leon spent training with you. By the time lights out came around, Leon and the rest of his fellows were well and truly drained. It was all shaky legs and hunched backs as everyone made their way back to the barracks, and even Leon who dreaded sleep felt it pulling him down into his bunk. With no other choice but to lie down, Leon let himself lie back against the uncomfortable blankets and pillow, his body relishing the moment of respite. 

His mind, though, was alight. 

Even as rest tried to take him, Leon fixated on Krauser’s warning. “Every second of the next forty-eight hours,” he’d said. He’d promised no moments of safety, and this was the one time of the day everyone was forced to have their guard down. 

So, he waited. He fought against the heaviness of his eyelids, trying to see if any shapes moved in the dark. 

Nothing. 

He cataloged the space in his mind. Six windows, two doors. Twelve beds, nine of which were occupied right now. He watched the doors as best he could. Kept an ear open for the steps of whoever was on fire watch at the moment - something Krauser admitted to being mostly pointless, but for getting in the habit of having someone keeping an eye out. It was Shinoda now, Leon remembered. The soldier gave him a few false jolts of adrenaline as he passed Leon’s bunk, but it kept the rookie awake, he supposed. 

Still, nothing. 

He wished you’d told him more of what to look out for. What to expect. 

“Well, giving away everything would defeat the point of the test.”

He missed your little teases like that. He missed getting you to laugh, or when you would make him laugh in return. Maybe, when he passed this test, you would be ready to talk. Maybe you would kiss him again-

He jolted awake. 

When had he fallen asleep? 

How long had he been out? 

The barracks were still dark. The beds around him still filled. No sound but the occasional muttering of someone in their sleep . . . 

. . . No sound but that. Not even the footsteps of the man on watch. 

Leon sat up, eyes straining to see in the dark. 

He didn’t see anyone patrolling the barracks. What he did see, as his eyes adjusted, was the tiny stream of light as one of the two doors opened. A shape hovered just behind it, and even if Leon couldn’t make out the face, he did see that light reflect off of two glass lenses, right where the eyes should be. 

Then he heard a clink . . . clink clink against the floor. 

“Everyone up!” he called, every nerve in his body humming with newfound energy. 

The rest of the recruits barely began to stir before there was a pop. Then, for a split second, Leon smelled something decidedly chemical. 

His eyes went wide just in time for his skin to start to burn.

Chapter Text

He couldn’t breathe. 

He couldn’t breathe.

It felt like the air around Leon was taken away, replaced with something blistering. Something that made his eyes blur and water, and the inside of his nose burn. His face. His throat. His cheeks and lips were wet with tears and spit, and it only seemed to make it all worse. Something was gripping his chest from within, every short breath invited it to tear at him. 

Fuck-

Fuck-

“Gas!” he cried, trying to warn the people around him. Pain was his reward as the chemicals in the air filled his mouth. He sputtered. Clutched at his eyes, his neck. 

There were coughs, shouts, and then cries of alarm. Words that lost meaning because the only thing that made sense was the panic. Distant crashing, footfalls - too much sound that Leon couldn’t place. Motion that just looked like blurred darkness in the room that trapped him. 

He had to move.

Move. 

Move!

There were shouts behind him, and he was on his feet and rushing towards where he knew the door to be, his hands pulling his shirt over his nose. Eyelids squeezed tight against the burning air. 

It almost made him miss the dark shape in front of him, one that might have been man or monster. Whatever it was, Leon felt the impact of something hitting him - hands, he realized - and then he went falling backwards. 

The dark, the tight air around him, the shadow that knocked him aside like he was nothing . . . he might have wondered if he was dreaming of the past, were it not for the very real pain inside and out. 

He caught himself before he hit the ground, and the shape remained in front of him. Unmoving. Not alone. Leon couldn’t be certain how many others were there, but he did know that there were shadows standing between him and the door. Then there were other lines of motion. The sounds of footfalls as people passed Leon. More shouts. More impacts that sounded like punches. Kicks. More bodies hitting the floor beside him. Even as Leon himself tried to stand, something knocked him back down. Loomed over him.

“What the fuck?” someone coughed. He knew the voice. Williams. She was next to him. Knocked down the same way he had been. 

They were keeping them from the door. 

Keeping them in.

They had to get out. They needed air-

“Window-” he sputtered. Hopefully someone would hear. 

Leon scrambled, clawing at a bed beside him to pull himself up. His other hand swung wildly as one of the waiting figures reached for him. Then, when he felt a safe moment, he grasped for Williams, finding her shoulder. He grabbed her shirt, feeling her hand clasp over his, and then they were both rising from the floor. He used the frame of the bed to guide himself, groaning as he pulled his fellow recruit up, even as his throat was shredded for the effort. Williams put a hand at his back, urging him forward. Towards the faint, fuzzy yellow of the distant streetlights through glass. 

He hadn’t really realized he’d reached the window until he felt his hands press against the glass. He had to let go of Williams. Then he was searching for the lock, fingers hunting along the frame. 

When they caught on it, Leon nearly felt relief flood him, but instead he just felt a rush of air like fire as someone grabbed him around the waist and flung him to the side. 

Leon hit the floor hard, rolling once before stopping himself with a hand and a knee. He grunted, hearing more impacts. Williams shouting again. The pain was nothing next to the anger that filled him, because he knew what this was. This was one of Krauser’s tests. Even through the smoke of the gas, the darkness of the room and the caustic agony he experienced, he came to that realization with perfect clarity. 

Maybe that was what made him stand - what made him let out a cry of frustration as he rushed blindly forward, following only his instincts. And those instincts led him to collide with something. Someone. 

They grunted as Leon slammed into them, the force of it enough to send them falling backwards. Right into the wall, Leon realized, as the impact knocked him into the person he was tackling. Whoever it was he’d attacked, they slumped down for a moment. 

Leon knew to take the opportunity. 

Then he was reaching for the window again, coughing as he tried to push it up. When he felt hands on him, his eyes stung as they widened. Someone kicked his back leg, forcing him to his knees. He didn’t have to tell his body to move, his elbow was just swinging through the air. It made contact. He heard a cry. 

To hell with this. 

He pushed himself up and that same elbow made contact again, this time with the window. Two strikes, one for the glass and the other for the screen behind it. The shattering sound brought with it a rush of clean, cool air. 

Go.

Get out.

That was what his body begged of him, his mind. 

But he wasn’t alone in the barracks. The rest of his squad was in just as much pain and danger as he was. 

So he stumbled towards where he thought Williams might be, calling out for her and reaching out a hand. Someone took hold of him, and whoever it was, Leon was pulling them towards the window. He was happy to realize that it was Williams as the tall woman crawled through the opening. He was even happier that he was there to engage the figure that had attacked them earlier before they could stop the escape. 

Coughing, forcing his eyes to remain open, Leon swung a fist at the figure he’d fought earlier, just as they reached for Williams. He could make out a gas mask as whoever wore it turned. Blocked him. Then shoved him aside again in a move that Leon wasn’t quite fast enough to stop. 

Even so, as Leon made painful contact with a bunk frame, he glimpsed Williams slip out the window. 

Then someone else - another of his squad he hadn’t even realized was there, followed.

Blinking hard, Leon looked back towards the interior - towards that blurred chaos. His squad was fighting. He could see the outlines moving in the dark and hear the sounds of combat. They were trying to push through to the door. 

They wouldn’t make it. Not if they couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. 

Others had heard the window break. There were people moving towards him. He could only hope that they were on his side, retching some of the building spit in his mouth. 

“Over . . . over here!” Leon shouted as best he could, hoping to catch the attention of the rest. 

It was then that he noticed the other attention he’d drawn; there were more than just his squad mates making their way towards him. He looked back towards the gas-masked figure that he’d fought. A figure that was now approaching him. Stalking towards him in a way that was all too familiar. 

Even with everything happening around him, Leon had passed the point of fear. Maybe he’d even passed the point of reason. 

So as the promise of a fight drew near, Leon just rose into a ready stance, with one thought on his mind. 

Let them try. 

Whoever was behind the gas mask didn’t hesitate. Even if Leon couldn’t see well, he was used to fighting in the dark. Used to dodging away when he had to. Old instincts and old hurts let him move out of the way in time. 

People were scrambling through the window. More masked shadows were following close behind. 

It was time to go. 

Leon reached for one of the bunks, groaning as he leveraged it with all his newfound strength. It flipped onto its side just before the masked figures reached him. And with that, he was running the short distance to the window. He nearly made it before he felt someone grabbing at him again. Whoever it was had no intention of playing nice. Leon learned that when he felt a fist jab into his side, painfully hard, and then there was an arm snaking around his neck. 

He already couldn’t breathe, but when Leon felt that chokehold slide into place, he thought for sure he was going to die, training exercise be damned. It set his heart racing and his hands scrambling, everything he’d learned about how to get out of such a hold lingering just out of reach. 

“No hard feelings, blanquito,” whispered a cocky, cruel voice. His adrenaline stopped him from placing it.

Then, mostly by accident, his fingers found his assailant’s head. Their mask, and the straps that secured it in place. One of the clips that kept it there. 

A few months ago, Leon would never have considered the action he was about to take. He would have deemed it too cruel. That was before he’d seen the dead rise in droves to tear men limb from limb. Before he’d been lied to and used. Before he’d been made to live in a world where he finished each day of training with new bruises. In that moment, all he was concerned with was getting out of this hell. 

So, as quickly as he could manage, Leon pressed in on either side of the clip while his other hand found its way to the edge of the gas mask. 

He didn’t get it all the way off, but he pried it away from whoever’s face it was covering, and that was enough. 

The attacker shouted, crying out in pain and letting Leon know the gas had hit them. The second way he knew was because their grip on him loosened. Enough that he could elbow his way free before making a break for the window. 

Someone was there. Lighter clothes, and their skin was visible against the blur. One of Leon’s squad, then. He was in the middle of pushing another masked figure away. 

Without thinking twice, Leon reached for his fellow recruit. Alenko, he realized, as the man turned to face him. He helped the older soldier through the window, ushering him to the fresh air with an urgency he’d not felt since Raccoon City. 

An urgency that became all the more necessary when he concluded that he was the last one of his unit near the window. Everyone else had gotten out, and now he had all the soldiers that were chasing his comrades bearing down on him like wolves. He leapt for the window, but it was too late. 

A hand at his shoulder, turning him around with a force he didn’t expect. He didn’t react fast enough to stop the blow that followed - a hard one to his face that struck like a bolt from heaven. It knocked him hard, and he was so focused on the pain of it, he almost didn’t feel the impact of his skull against the floor. 

In fact, as he lay there, he didn’t feel much of anything, for a moment. It was a wonderful, if brief, reprieve from it all. 

Then he felt like he was going to be sick. That burning was back in his lungs. His jaw throbbed. His forearm stung. The edges of his vision blurred, and he couldn’t tell if it was the gas or his mind letting consciousness slip from him. He considered what might happen if he just didn’t get up-

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

Your voice cut clean through everything else, because it was the first time in days that he’d heard it. Leon wished he could tell which form you were in the dark, but as another fit of coughs overtook him and his eyes fell closed, he felt a pair of hands on him. Lifting him. Pulling his arm over your shoulder.

“Lean on me,” you said, and Leon wanted to smile. Instead, his head lolled forward, and he was vaguely aware of tears and spit stretching down to the now-moving floor beneath him. Something was dripping down his arm.

Not how he wanted you to see him . . .

He wasn’t exactly sure what happened next. He just knew that he could breathe again. There was dirt beneath his feet. Voices around him. 

“. . . his head . . .”

“. . . take him . . .”

I’m bleeding, he realized silently as his arm came into focus - the one dangling at his side. 

More movement. Leon could see, now. The two of you were approaching a building, lit dimly against the night. He started to remember to move his legs, helping you make better time. When he felt he could do it without making the world tilt on its axis, he looked up at you. 

You were wearing a gas mask, same as the others. That knowledge brought too many complicated feelings.

Feelings that were done away with when you turned your head, and he could see your eyes through the mask’s lenses. “I’ve got you,” you said, hoisting him up. 

If nothing else, he believed that was true.

⧫⧫⧫

They gave you a change of clothes, and you couldn’t recall ever discarding gear so quickly. The gas mask especially was tossed to the side and abandoned without hesitation, and you were moving into the infirmary like the answers to all your questions were housed within. 

Not too far from the truth, you supposed. 

Leon was there, sitting up and looking into the Doc’s flashlight. “Think you avoided a concussion,” you heard the medic say. Leon just nodded, his eyes finding yours the minute he was able. 

He looked terrible. 

His eyes were still puffy from the tear gas, his nose red and his hair a tangle. They’d had the decency to give him a new change of clothes, too, replacing the sweaty, tear and snot-stained shirt he’d been in. He pressed a cloth to his left forearm, covering a gash he’d no doubt gotten when he smashed through the barracks window. 

God, you wanted to punch him. Shake him for his foolishness. Hold him. Kiss him. 

And therein lay the problem. 

How many days had you spent convincing yourself that you could create distance between the two of you? How long had you taken carefully building up those walls around yourself again, ready to retreat home to weather the storm? All for it to be undone the moment you saw Leon refuse the opportunity to escape and run right back into danger. 

It made you furious. It made you scared. It made you proud. The worst thing, though, was that it didn’t surprise you at all. 

“He gonna be alright?” you asked, and the Doc looked back at you with a shrug. 

“Should be, now that he’s gotten the chance to breathe. Just need to dress this cut, give him some time to rest and he’ll be right as rain.” 

“Let me do that. Then you can catch some shut-eye,” you offered, and you wished you hadn’t seen how Leon’s demeanor shifted at your words. You didn’t need to be any more off-balance than you already were. “It’ll be good practice.” 

The Doc gave you a look - one that made the crow’s feet around his eyes deepen - but shrugged in the end. “Suit yourself, Sergeant. Stitch it, just to be safe.” Standing, the grizzled man moved past you, closing the door behind him like he knew there was a conversation to be had. 

And then you were alone with Leon for the first time since you’d kissed him. 

God, why had you done that? Why did you have to go and make it complicated? And now, with several days’ worth of silence between the two of you, it was clear that you’d only made it worse. 

Dressing a wound wasn’t complicated. Not one like this, at least, so you busied yourself with that. Neither of you said a word as you collected the antiseptic, needle, thread and bandages you needed. You both just eyed each other, waiting for someone to make the first move like you were in a sparring match. Would he even want to speak to you, after how long you’d been avoiding him? Eventually, finally, you got your answer when he spoke up.  

“So. That’s Krauser’s idea of a test.” 

Oh, he was pissed. He had every right to be. The tear gas had been more excessive than you’d imagined - and you had seen the Major pit his students against some steep odds in your time here. Still, you couldn’t quite fault him for what he’d done. 

“No such thing as a safe place to sleep in the field,” you sighed, returning to Leon with the supplies you needed. 

You half expected him to protest - to tell you that what Krauser did was wrong. You wouldn’t blame him. You might not even argue otherwise. Instead, Leon just exhaled, then sniffled - still not entirely free of the tear gas’ effects. “Guess not.” 

You weren’t quite sure why, but those words chipped at your heart. The words and the surrender in his reddened eyes. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you said, when your old friend, guilt, came knocking.

Leon just shrugged. Didn’t look at you. “Don’t worry about it.”

Well, tough, Leon. You’d watched him get taken to the ground with a punch. You were going to fucking worry. “They shouldn’t have gone that far.”

“Business as usual, right?”

He’d not sounded so hopeless in weeks. But what did you expect after you’d treated him the way you had for the last few days? You had to make it right. “The ones that were after you. It wasn’t me.” You weren’t sure what compelled you to tell him that. Maybe you just didn’t want him to hate you more than you already imagined he might. 

“I know it wasn’t.” He said it so earnestly. Like he’d never even imagined it was a possibility. 

That smoothed the fraying edges of your mind. Enough that you could focus on the task at hand. 

“Here. Give me your arm.” 

He did as he was asked, holding the bloodied limb out to you as you sat beside him on the bed. As he let the cloth fall away, you were met with a few little scrapes and one larger, deep, jagged red line along the outside of his forearm - close to the elbow. The bleeding had stopped for the most part, but you could see the way the glass had parted the skin and a shallow part of the muscle - a cut that would no doubt scar. 

“Got yourself pretty good,” you commented, applying the lidocaine to numb it. Touching him, even like this, felt like you were reaching for an old electric fence. You probably shouldn’t be doing it, but the promise of what was on the other side was too much to ignore. 

“I didn’t even feel it until later.” 

You wanted to test the waters before diving in, so you offered him a cautious but wry look. “Well, you left blood all over the barracks.” 

He looked at you with some poorly veiled surprise. Then he gave a slight shrug, something brightening in those pretty blues of his. “Krauser can bill me for the cleaning job.” 

“He’ll probably make you do it yourself.” 

“Probably.” A little smile that set you at ease more than anything else in the world could. Then, his expression softened into something more sincere. “It’s good to talk to you again,” he said, and as soon as you looked him in the eye, you knew that the moment you’d been running from had found you at last. All you could do now was face it. 

“It’s only been a few days,” you tried, but Leon shook his head.

“You know what I mean.” 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you train,” you murmured as you started cleaning his wound. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to mirror his words, even if they were the undeniable truth. 

Leon was too sweet for his own good, offering you an easy look. “It’s okay. I did alright. At least, until-” he gestured to the gash. 

“You would have been the first one out of there,” you shook your head, speaking the words with an almost bitter taste as you threaded the needle for his stitches. “You’ve got to be more careful,” you said, your words tense and taught like a bowstring - one that you’d been slowly drawing back since your lips had met his days before. It was enough for him to look at you then, his brows arched and his eyes suddenly focused. Intense - especially with your next words. “You can’t keep throwing yourself into the fire for other people.” 

He leaned away from you a touch, shaking his head. “I already told you; I’m not just going to let people get hurt if I can help them.” 

“I don’t have a problem with you helping people,” you said, not sure if you were ready for the words that were to follow. “I have a problem when it gets you hurt. Because if it gets you hurt here, it’s going to get you killed out there.”

The words brought a gravity to Leon’s expression that sobered you - made your hand still so you were holding the needle just over his skin. “It doesn’t have to be my life for someone else’s,” he said, like he knew it was the truth. 

Everything you’d seen told you otherwise. “It always ends up that way, though.” 

He searched your eyes, and you wanted more than anything to look away - so you did. You broke the contact and looked down, sliding the needle into his numbed flesh. 

“Why does it matter to you what happens to me?” He asked as though it had caused him some great grievance. It was the kind of question that stood too large and too vast - hiding a dozen other questions and truths behind it. 

You couldn’t dance around it. So, you just looked back up at him, fixing him in a tired but true gaze. In it, you hoped, he would find what answers he was looking for. Even if the act made you feel like you’d just thrown yourself off a cliff into an abyss you’d been dreading. “You know damn well why. I care about you, Leon.” 

Nothing else needed to be said. Leon’s eyes widened, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. You just forced yourself to hold that focus, because you were done being a coward. Whatever this was needed to be handled. For both your sakes. 

“I’m just sorry that I pushed things too far,” you admitted, glancing back down and pulling the thread. 

Leon’s lips curved into a frown; you could see it out of the corner of your eye. He shook his head. Kept his voice low but steady. 

“You didn’t.”

It was a flashbang. Not enough to break you, but surely enough to stop you in your tracks. There was a lot of that happening in this conversation, you realized. This, though, had you forgetting your efforts to patch Leon up entirely. 

“You didn’t push things too far,” he repeated when he saw the look of utter bewilderment you were giving him. 

He’d pulled away from you.  

“I thought . . . when you pulled back-”

“No,” Leon shook his head. “I just . . . I’m sorry too. That I froze up,” he urged, like the words had been eating away at him and he needed them gone. 

It was a hell of a thing, watching your carefully constructed excuses and defenses be undone by a few words. You’d put so much stock into your own narrative, your own neat little version of events, that you’d ignored the reality of things. He’d apologized right away. He’d sought you out the next day, wanting to clear the air. You’d wanted to convince yourself that it was a simple situation with a simple solution: Leon didn’t feel the way you felt, and that could be that. Instead, you just had to sit there as he led that possibility into a gentle repose, never to rise again. 

And then you felt yourself in that same, terrifying and uncharted territory. 

Nowhere to go but forward.

“Like I said . . . you don’t have anything to apologize for.” You meant it, and you made yourself look him in the eye as you said it. 

Leon smiled, and it seemed to ease some of the lingering irritation in his eyes. “Maybe next time we both just say what we’re feeling? So we don’t make assumptions.” He said it with a touch of humor. 

“Next time?” There was no such humor to be found in your question - no room for it. As far as you were concerned, the topic of “next time” was serious and paralyzing. You needed an honest response, and Leon’s expression let you know he was going to give you one. 

“Is that something you want?” he asked in return. 

“I don’t know if it’s about what I want - what either of us want.” 

He looked like he understood that much. Like the thought had crossed his mind, too. “Look,” he said after a moment, “whatever you want – whatever comes out of this, I’m just glad I have someone who I know will have my back. Who understands. If that’s all we are to each other, that’s alright.”

Damn this boy. Damn him straight to hell - and damn you for wanting to follow him there. 

“You’re not making this easier,” you grumbled, and he chuckled a little. 

“Turnabout’s fair play, right?” 

Oh, you were fucked. You knew it because when he grinned at you like that, you were sure that just one kiss would never be enough. “Hold still,” you whispered, and Leon stopped talking. He just watched as you slid the needle through his skin, something flickering across his face as a comfortable quiet settled between the two of you. He had no right to be so patient with you. No right to be so kind in a world where everything could be taken away. Even after abandoning him, he was still considering your own struggles and feelings above his. Because that was who Leon was, at the end of the day. So, you brought that silence to an end as you bandaged his arm, because you wanted to make up for lost time. “Your final combat test today,” you began, looking up into Leon’s eyes. “It’s me. We’ll both be armed.” 

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “I thought telling me would defeat the point of the test.” 

“I think the tear gas was a big enough surprise.” You gave him a smile - the first one you’d worn in days. It felt good. 

“Surprise is one word for it.” Leon smiled right back. “Just don’t go easy on me because I’m hurt.”

“Not a chance.” You tied off the bandage, but let your hands linger on him for a little longer than necessary. Held his gaze for just a second too long. “And then after, I owe you an explanation.”

The promise made his eyes soften. “I owe you one, too,” Leon agreed, so much passing unspoken between the two of you. It wouldn’t remain unspoken for long. 

You nodded, standing at last. “I’ll tell Krauser you’re alright.”

“Tell him he’s an asshole, too,” Leon huffed.

As you pulled the door open, you shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time he’s heard it.”

Chapter Text

“How are you feeling, rookie?” 

Leon was, despite his aching head, his bruising jaw, the freshly sutured wound in his arm and the exhaustion from a long day and interrupted sleep, in a good mood. How could he not be, after the conversation the two of you had just had? Whatever came next for you, at least you were talking again. At least he got to see you smile. Not much could kill the high that had put him in. Not much, but hearing Major Krauser’s raspy voice sure threatened violence against that happiness.

“I feel like I was woken up with tear gas,” Leon answered, not caring if the Major would think the response too sharp. 

“Upset about that, are you?” Krauser sounded amused as he stepped up to where Leon sat at the edge of the bed. “And here I thought you could handle anything I threw at you.” 

Leon’s brow slid down, the easy expression he’d been wearing becoming something more determined. “I can.” 

“Really? Because no one else had to be carried out of there tonight.”

That fact set stones in Leon’s gut. He’d been so caught up in the pain and panic - and then elation - he’d almost missed the sinking feeling that he had, in the Major’s eyes, made a mistake. 

“What did I tell you about being a hero?”

Leon tensed, his brow twitching. Might as well get right to the point, if this was going where he thought it was. “So did I fail, then?” 

Krauser looked at him, inhaling slow. “Well, that depends. You think you can fight with that arm?” 

Eyes widening, Leon looked up, and any doubts, any worries he had were gone. “I’ve had worse,” he said, and Krauser chuckled. 

He almost looked proud.

“Well alright then, rookie. Get some rest. Report as usual for First Call.” 

And Leon was there, his arm bandaged and his body aching, but standing at attention for those first morning drills. His squad mates had eyed him as he filed in, and in the quiet moments as they waited for Major Krauser to arrive, it was Williams that spoke up at last. “Hell of a night, huh?” 

The laughter that followed was hushed and dry. The sort that was brought about by enduring a shared hardship.

 Leon couldn’t help but smile as Alenko nudged him with a grin. “Good to see you made it, Kennedy.” 

Leon just shrugged. “Wouldn’t miss it.” 

By the time Krauser arrived, Leon’s squad, though tired, though beaten down, was ready. They all stood tall, their jaws set firmly as the Major passed them each a practice knife, the silver blades dull in the dim light of the morning. Combat drills weren’t usually run so early, but Leon knew not to expect Krauser to adhere to a schedule. So, he braced himself, taking some deep breaths as he looked for the appearance you’d told him you would be making. 

Instead, the Major found another way to surprise them. 

“Hold onto those today,” Krauser instructed, pointing to the knife that he’d just handed to Shinoda. The Major was grinning, because of course he fucking was. “Be ready to use them. Now, get your gear.” 

Leon realized then that you’d perhaps only told him half of the final test. He’d assumed a fight with you meant what it usually did: you working your way down the line in the training yard, later in the day. Instead, he learned very quickly that day that Krauser had something else in mind. 

It wasn’t long into the forced march that he saw you - or what he came to realize was you. He hadn’t been sure at first; all he’d seen was the shape of a person moving through the trees. Then, like a shadow, you’d emerged, and there was steel flashing at the throat of the recruit that had fallen behind the rest. 

It was over in a few seconds, and your opponent barely had time to pull his knife from its sheath. Then, he was forced down onto the dirt path, his arm held down and your blade at the back of his neck. 

Leon and the rest of his unit went for their own knives, until Krauser’s voice halted them. “No, no. This isn’t your fight,” he hissed, and everyone stilled. “Don’t worry, the Sergeant has plenty of time. You’ll all get a chance to play.” Leon was suddenly aware of his heart beating more heavily as you stood, helping your defeated opponent up as you did. The intensity he’d come to know from you was back, a suit of armor that kept you well-protected as you moved off the path and into the trees once more. Armor that he saw a chink in when you met his eyes briefly, and he saw a challenge sparkling there in the low light. Then you were gone, and the game truly began. 

And a brutal game it was. 

You didn’t play fair - and Krauser likely had instructed you to do just that. There were nine more recruits to fight through, and it soon became clear that you were taking your time, choosing moments when they wouldn’t expect it. You went after one during the morning exercises, attacking when the recruit was doing push-ups. Leon managed to shout his comrade a warning, letting him get up in time to mount a defense. In the end, though, it didn’t matter. 

Shinoda’s fight came at breakfast, right as he set his food down. The violence earned shouts from the other recruits watching, a savage chorus cheering on the combat. Shinoda was able to use the tables to his advantage, and after a few minutes of cat and mouse play, he managed to land slashes on your arm and leg. 

You still ended the fight as the victor, though, with a slash across the belly. 

“You two train together,” Williams pulled Leon aside, as the group was headed to the firing range. Paranoia had everyone in a stranglehold, and they were all dealing with it in their own way. Williams, it seemed, wanted to plan ahead. “Anything to watch out for? Weaknesses?” 

Leon wasn’t sure how to answer. He knew you better than they did, true, but pointing out your weaknesses felt like a betrayal. Even if you were, in essence, picking them off one by one. But then, would it even matter if they knew? Would they be able to adjust in time to beat you? 

Luckily, Alenko was there to return the favor from the night before and saved Leon from answering. “If you don’t know by now, then you haven’t been paying attention,” he said. 

Alenko must have been paying attention, though, because when you rushed him only moments later, he held his own well enough. At least, he did, until you pulled another blade into the fight - one concealed at the small of your back, beneath your shirt. 

Then, even Leon who had fought you more than anyone else on base felt nervous. You’d never used two knives before, not that he’d seen. Still, as he watched your exchange with Alenko, he realized that you must have been practicing as much with your own squad. You danced with the twin fangs well, and secured another victory in doing so. When you locked your blade against Alenko’s throat, your eyes found Leon’s, and any frustrations he might have had about this new development melted away. 

He’d asked you not to go easy on him, after all. 

So Leon awaited his turn, keeping his guard up with the rest of his squad as the day went by. Some of them came close, but none of them managed to score a victory against you. Not when you had the element of surprise and were armed just as they were. He watched each fight - not quite the easy affairs they once were, but still incredible to behold. At least, as far as Leon was concerned, they were incredible. Steel was an art with you - a song that only you knew the steps to. 

Still, he didn’t let his focus waver. He had to get through this and then, perhaps, he could entertain those thoughts. 

If you were willing. 

Instead of thinking of how beautiful you looked with those weapons, Leon focused on how you were just a touch slower to act with your off-hand, when you had two knives out. How you would sometimes go for the binds he knew you favored, only to reconsider and go for an attack at the last minute. 

Williams was the ninth fight, and she nearly had you. As strong as she was, and with her reach, she was able to cage your weapon against your leg, and nearly ran you through with a stab. Then, your other hand went for your second knife, and you spun to the side. The dulled blade met her neck, and then only Leon remained. 

“Of course Kennedy gets saved for last,” Williams grumbled, not happy with losing. 

Leon wasn’t sure what it meant that everyone had lost so far, but he did his best not to let it affect him. Krauser had trained them well. You had given him the tools he needed to win. All he needed to do was keep alert and apply what he’d learned. 

He kept an eye out through his drills and hand-to-hand sparring and everything in between. The tension dragged just long enough for the anxiety to begin to creep in, with Leon watching for you around every corner. He knew how to stay alert. How to move carefully and watch closely. How to react quickly, if he needed to. He knew that was likely all that saved him, when the time came. 

He was sparring with Alenko when you made your move. He almost didn’t realize you were approaching - Alenko’s eyes widening, and the sound of quick footsteps were the only warning he got. 

He got his block up just in time to fend off the stab you brought down on him, and staved off another as you brought your blade down and around, switching hands. It led to the two of you being locked together for a moment, his hands closed around either of your wrists and your eyes fixed on each other. Leon saw that flare of life in your eyes, the same way you’d looked the night you kissed him, and it sent electricity through him. 

You brought your leg up, kicking him away. Leon took the opportunity to draw his own blade, nostrils flaring as he bent his knees. Raised his guard. 

Something unspoken passed between the two of you - warm and charged - and then you were both rushing forward. 

Leon couldn’t even say what happened in those first few seconds. All he knew was that you moved, and he moved with you, a series of attacks, blocks and ripostes that he got through purely on instinct. His body remembered where to go, what to do, your lessons and Krauser’s ingrained in his bones. He felt your knife brush against his forearm as you twisted it. He felt his own blade do the same when you didn’t get out of the way fast enough. 

When the two of you separated, you were both breathing heavy, neither one of you down for the count. 

And you were almost smiling. 

 “Not going to use both?” Leon asked, pointing at your waist where he knew the second knife was hidden. It was a risk, but you weren’t as used to fighting with the two blades, he’d seen it. Maybe, if you took the bait, you would trip up. Make a mistake. Then he might be able to win.

Or, he’d get cut to theoretical ribbons. 

Either way, he was about to find out because you took the bait. You didn’t give him a response as you pulled your second knife out - you only looked at him with a raised brow and a tilted head. He knew that look, now. It was the expression you took on when you were sure you were going to win. Your funeral. 

Leon found some pride in the fact that, even as you rushed him with two blades, he wasn’t panicked as he used to be. Even with an injured arm, he held his ground. 

His squad mates cheered him on as he traded slashes and stabs with you, but it was all just noise to him. All he could really hear was the sound of the knives parting air, and the sharp exhales you both gave as you attacked and defended. The hiss of pain he made as your knife slashed against his bandages on a failed evasion. God, you were fast. You hardly gave him a moment to breathe, and with two weapons, Leon was on the defensive. He would go for an attack on your arm, and you would counter cut to his arm with your right hand, your other going for his belly. He would dodge a stab to his stomach only to have to block a slash at his throat. 

His mind rushed as he tried to think of a way to get you to trip up. 

He slashed at a diagonal, high to low. Your blades chased his arm as you retreated, then turned towards his midsection. Back arching away to avoid the attack, Leon pressed forward, going for your left shoulder. A feint, one that you raised a block for. The redirected attack was caught, wrist against wrist. 

You made a mistake, then. 

You went for the disarm on instinct, and Leon saw the split second as you changed your mind, deciding that you could end the fight then and there. It was all the time he needed, and he let the knife in his hand fall. 

His left hand was there to catch it, to slash at the arm attacking him and then go for your stomach. You grunted as the first attack landed, the second missing by a hair’s breadth. More cheers, but Leon only heard one thing; the voice in his own mind. 

Damn. 

The knives in your hands flipped, and then you were holding them in a reverse grip. The same way Krauser preferred. 

You were going to end the fight, Leon could see it in your eyes. 

You moved first, attacking high and low. Shoulder, knee - Leon blocked both with wide eyes. Tried to slash down at you but had to move his hand out of the way of your counter cut. 

A flash of steel as you went for his throat. 

Another as he leaned away, and your second knife hooked at the back of his ankle. 

He was falling, then, and his free arm couldn’t stop both the blades you followed him down with. 

But he could raise his own knife in time. 

You settled on top of him, the points of both of your blades finding his throat . . .

. . . and your eyes went wide as you realized you’d been met with steel in your chest. 

You both would have died together, if it were a real fight. One more slow than the other, perhaps, but you’d still assured each other’s end. 

A draw. The closest anyone today had come to winning against you. 

And as Leon looked up at you, his heart nearly burst, because you were smiling at him with so much pride. He couldn’t help but smile back, and the world around the two of you ceased to be. It was no more than a second, but it would stay with Leon for much longer; the image of you above him, eyes sparkling, the sun above you outlining you in gold. You looked from his eyes to his lips and back again, and he swore that you decided something then and there. 

Then, the moment ended. You stood, placing both of your knives in one hand and reaching the other down. When you helped him up, Leon felt like he was floating rather than standing. 

⧫⧫⧫

In the end, only five of ten were deemed ready to move up to the next level of training. A woman named Lawson, who you’d exchanged maybe five words with and Shinoda, who you’d fought the day Krauser had pitted you against two at the same time. Williams and Alenko had passed, too, and you weren’t surprised by the news. Both were good soldiers, and they’d earned their new place in your squad. 

The fifth - the only one you’d truly cared about - was making his way to you now, his eyes somehow bright even after everything he’d endured in the last few hours. But then, he was one of the strongest people you knew. Of course he could make it through these tests and still have it in him to smile when he saw you. 

“Still managed to get another surprise in there, after all,” he said, and the good humor in his voice set you at ease. 

“And you handled it. Told you, you’re getting good at this.” 

“Guess I am,” Leon nodded, before his eyes took on a more serious light. “You still want to have that talk?” 

You expected dread at the mention of it, but instead you just nodded, a sense of inevitability washing over you. After all, you’d had days to reconcile what it was you were feeling. It was time to stop hiding from it. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking to the open window of the officer’s barracks and then back. This wasn’t the sort of conversation you wanted to have in earshot of Krauser or anyone else. Especially Krauser. “Let’s walk.” 

And so the two of you set out across the base, tracing a little ways away from the walls. The first few minutes were spent in a comfortable silence, one that you didn’t mind. It was a little reprieve for both of you from the day’s events, a moment to just take in the sounds of evening crickets and the way the sky was getting ready to put on its evening show. 

Calm could only last for so long, though. The two of you understood that better than anyone. And after everything either of you had survived, you didn’t want this to be the thing that finally made you run for your life. So, you waited until you reached the spot you’d been searching for - that little corner behind the mess hall where the cameras were blind and the shadows were long. Leon didn’t question as you led him there, or as you went and leaned against the wall. He settled in beside you, not too close, but not too far. Just within reach.

“Quiet spot,” he observed. 

“That’s the idea,” you nodded. Then, you took a breath and went on. “You said we should just talk about what we’re feeling next time - be flat out.” It was now or never. And you wouldn’t forgive yourself if you let it slip into the latter. “I’m ready to have that talk, if you are.” 

Leon looked over at you, and the hope behind his baby blues was too damn much. “Yeah,” he nodded, “I’m ready.” 

And there was the open ocean, uncharted and unyielding, stretching out before you. Waiting for you to take the plunge. 

Well, fuck it. 

“We’re training to fight things that take people and turn them into something else. Take their souls.” You hated that your voice already started to strain, but you went on. “If it doesn’t happen to us, then there’s a million other things that could go wrong. Us focusing on each other could make us slip up. And when we’re done here, we probably won’t even be put on the same missions half the time. It’s a bad idea. Us being together.” There was some bitter humor in your tone as all of those hard truths were given voice and form. Humor, because there was still one thing that overshadowed them. “And the worst part is that I know all of that . . .”

You didn’t give yourself a chance to second guess.

“. . . and it doesn’t make me want it any less.” 

Leon turned towards you fully, and his gaze drew you in. Unavoidable. Inescapable. You were sure that, in that moment, no one could have looked away from him. Not when he looked so beautifully and unexpectedly elated. You wished you could keep the world from taking that joy from him. 

“You mean that?” 

“I do.”

Then, he blinked and laughed a little. “You’re kind of a tease, you know that?” 

You grinned. “Trust me, pretty boy, you haven’t seen anything yet.” 

“Will I?” He didn’t miss a beat, and you were a little pleased with him catching you off guard like that. 

“That depends,” you countered, turning to face him more fully. You wanted an equal playing field. “Your turn. What are you feeling?” 

Leon didn’t take long to answer. “I think that you know already . . .” you had to give him that much, “. . . but honestly, I think you’ve been the best thing about this place.” 

That admission was almost enough to knock you off your damn feet. A little humor was your only defense. “Pretty sad fucking state of affairs for the base, then.” 

“I’m serious.” He moved a little closer. “Having you has made this all easier. And I meant what I said.” The pink blush dusting his cheeks and ears betrayed his nerves, but he was pushing through it anyway, holding your gaze and speaking in a hushed tone. “You didn’t push things too far.” He looked down at your lips. 

“How far is ‘too far’, then?” you asked, and you almost couldn’t hear your own voice over the pounding in your ears as you leaned in. It was Leon’s last chance to back out. To take the sensible path. Your last chance, too. 

“If we ever get there, I’ll let you know.” 

You’d known it was going to end this way. Still, when the two of you met in the middle, lips crashing together, you felt like you’d been thrown from the top of a building without a parachute. 

All you could do was fall. 

And you fell into the movements of his mouth against yours all too easily, less desperate than the last time. That had been all adrenaline and desire. This, you could tell, was something else. You could feel it in the way his arms moved around you, holding you so gently. So reverently. A hand came up to your jaw, and you responded in kind by putting a hand at his back, feeling the muscles that he had earned through so much pain and perseverance. You pulled him into you, taking care this time to memorize how his body felt against yours - to marvel at how right it felt, despite the distant warnings of your mind. 

Warnings that grew more and more distant as the kiss went on, silenced by a greater desire. A will to get it right, this time. A second chance at a first, you thought, as you wove your other hand into his hair. He groaned a little at the touch, and you couldn’t say what possessed you to slip your tongue between his lips. All you knew was that he didn’t pull away. He met you in equal measure, breathing heavy against you. 

So warm. 

So real. 

The steadiness of it began to turn into something else. Liquid fire, melting away at your belly. You went on kissing him, almost to spite your worries. To fly in the face of the nerves that had choked you day after day. 

Each moment was a risk, but you couldn’t care less. Not when it was Leon in your arms and on your lips. 

It didn’t seem like he cared much, either. 

It might have been seconds or hours by the time you separated. Either way, you were both panting when you got the chance to really breathe, your lips swollen and shining in the low light. “Too far?” you asked, grinning like a fox because you already knew his answer. 

“God, no,” Leon shook his head, laughing.

Your hand traveled from Leon’s hair to his face, in a more tender gesture than you perhaps intended. Still, you couldn’t deny that something in your heart stirred as he leaned into the touch. 

And the smile he gave you . . . it was enough to split the world in two.

Chapter Text

Change was exhausting. 

You had finally settled into a comfortable routine - a world of knives and guns and cold memories. You hadn’t been happy, living that way. Quite the opposite, in fact. Still, you had found some peace in the repetition. In making yourself into more of a weapon than a person. Weapons didn’t die the same way people did, after all. 

Then Krauser pitted you against Leon Kennedy all those weeks ago, and that routine - that peace - was slowly shattered. 

As you sat side by side that night, the weight of something new settling between the two of you, you couldn’t help but wonder if the Major had orchestrated that fight with an ulterior motive in mind. He was a crafty bastard, after all. Always setting traps and tests. Maybe it was just a coincidence that he’d put you up against the only person on base that shared your experiences. Or maybe he’d wanted the two of you to find each other. 

Whatever the case, you were almost positive that he hadn’t intended for it to end up with the two of you tangling tongues behind the mess hall. He’d probably go homicidal, if he found out. You could almost hear him calling you an idiot and worse, and he might even be right for it. 

No, he would be right. You were a complete and total fool for doing this. 

But in that moment, sitting in the dark and listening to the crickets with Leon at your side, you didn’t care what was stupid and what wasn’t. All you could think about was how his mouth had felt against your own. How warm his skin had felt. How impossibly soft his lips had been. And how utterly spent you felt, after a day that held so much change. 

It would be time for lights out soon. You knew you should probably go to your barracks to avoid people coming to look for you. Leon had to have known it, too. 

And yet, neither of you moved. You just lingered there, your shoulders pressed against each other as you stared into the darkness. Fitting, because you had no idea what was coming your way, now. 

Even so, the dark seemed just a little less daunting when he was at your side.

“You know,” Leon said, and you turned to look at him, even if you couldn’t see much of him in the shadows. “Today turned out pretty well.” 

You snorted. “It started with you getting tear gassed and knocked out.” 

“Only had uphill to go from there,” Leon pointed out, and once again you found yourself delightfully confused by his optimism. 

“Krauser’s not going to make you guys sleep in your barracks, is he?” You hoped not - there was likely still some residual gas left over. Not to mention the blood you’d teased Leon about, and all manner of disarray that likely hadn’t been seen to. 

“No.” Leon sounded relieved about that fact. “We’re going to be in another bunkhouse for tonight.”

“And then I guess you’ll be moving into our barracks soon,” you grinned over at him. Not that it would mean much - not unless you and Leon planned on giving the rest of your squad a show. Still, you couldn't help but enjoy the idea. 

Even in the darkness, you could see his mouth curl up at the thought, too.

“Guess so.” 

“Valeria snores. Fair warning.” 

The comment earned you a laugh. “That’s alright. I’ve been told I talk.” 

“In your sleep?” 

Leon nodded, and even if you couldn’t see the intricacies of his expression, you could feel his energy shift. “Bad dreams.” 

You frowned. Tapped your fingers on your thigh. “I get them too.” 

Even in the dark, you could feel Leon’s gaze. Likely more empathetic than it had any right to be. “Hard not to, I guess.” 

You hummed, nodding your head and staring out into the distance again. You hoped that tonight there would be something else waiting for you when you closed your eyes than snow and blood and the smell of rot. You also knew better than to be that optimistic, so you decided you were going to think of something else. Run out the clock as long as you could before the two of you had to face your nightmares. 

“If you ever want to talk about them,” Leon offered, and you knew what he was going to offer. It wrung your heart even before he finished the sentence. “I’ll listen.” 

You bit the inside of your mouth. You’d already told him some of what you dreamed of. The infected. The knife. It was the things you hadn’t told him that gave you pause. The things your mind twisted and reinvented. You knew he would understand, because he always did, but . . . “Maybe,” you nodded. Tilted your head a bit. “Mostly it’s just memories.” 

“Me too,” Leon nodded. Went quiet for a little, like he was thinking hard about something. 

“Same goes for you. If you want to talk about them.” It was only right to offer. Especially after you’d avoided him for so many days. The guilt of that choice was still hanging over you, even now. You would bear it, though, because it was deserved as far as you were concerned. Now, you would try to make it right. 

“I might take you up on that,” Leon admitted, and you could tell by the way he spoke, he had a particular dream in mind. It took him a moment, but eventually, he made a shaky start. “That first night when you kissed me . . . well, the night before, I guess . . .” he shook his head, restarting once more with no small amount of difficulty. “I lost someone in Raccoon City.” You felt your stomach drop at the admission. “She . . . I really cared about her, and I couldn’t save her. I had a dream about her that night. Couldn’t get it out of my head. That’s why I pulled away.” 

You weren’t sure of what to say - there were too many thoughts rushing through your mind. Raccoon City wasn’t that long ago. Half a year. No wonder he’d flinched away when you kissed him. 

“I’m sorry. If I’d known-”

“No, it’s . . . I didn’t know her for that long, really,” Leon assured you. “It was just . . . well, it was complicated.” There was a story there, you could hear it in his voice. A story that held many, many emotions. One that he was ready to at least partially tell, it seemed, the words spilling out like he needed them gone. “I met her that night. She’s the reason I went down into the Umbrella labs for that virus sample. She said she was FBI, and that she was going to use it to bring Umbrella down. Turns out, she was a mercenary trying to steal it. She got hurt, so she needed me. Then things went bad and . . .” he trailed off, and you knew better than to seek more than he was willing to give. Besides, the way he tensed beside you and the way his words were filled with bitter regret told you enough.  

You were surprised to find yourself angry on his behalf - or, perhaps, more so saddened that someone would take advantage of him like that. Leon Kennedy was the kind of person who would throw himself into a fight to save a stranger - to take a beating to spare someone else a bruise. Of course he would have offered to help, and of course a mercenary would take that inch and run a mile with it. 

That injustice made you clench your jaw, and the only thing that kept you from hurling harsh words at this woman’s memory was the way Leon sounded when he spoke of her. “I know I shouldn’t miss her-”

“It’s alright that you do,” you said, firm in your belief. You of all people knew how grief worked. No one got to choose when they were free of it, or who they felt it for. “What was her name?”

“. . . Ada.”

You nodded. You weren’t so petty to think a ghost a threat, nor were you going to question Leon’s choice to pursue something with you now. He wasn’t the kind of man to use this to distract himself from the pain of that loss - and even if he was, you wouldn’t begrudge him. You of all people knew what it was to drag yourself through grief, using whatever you could find purchase on. If that was what this was for Leon, then you could live with that. 

The way he’d looked at you tonight, though - the way he’d held you and spoke of you - told you that this was very real for him. 

And that set a different kind of fear through you, one that you fought hard against. You’d spent a year without happiness. Whatever the future held, whatever worries you had, it could wait until morning. 

You hoped it would wait even longer than that.

“Sorry,” Leon finally said. “I just . . . wanted to explain myself. I didn’t mean to end tonight on a bad note.” 

“You didn’t.” You hoped that your voice conveyed just how truthful you were being. “Listening is the least I can do.” 

Leon’s eyes stole some of the moon and starlight to sparkle a bit as he smiled. “Thank you,” he said. Then, after a moment, he went on. “Whatever I felt for her, it doesn’t change how I feel about you.” 

The admission brought a smile to you and filled you with a bit of foolish pride. 

You had to go. You both had to get going before someone came looking. 

But then, you’d ignored sense for so much of tonight. What was one more time? 

“Feel like proving it?” you asked, sitting up and leaning towards him. 

Leon got the message and didn’t need much to be convinced. He leaned in, and your noses bumped in the dark. It made both of you laugh - a happy moment that you grabbed onto and refused to let go of. Your mouths met, still humming with laughter, and then there was a still, tranquil quiet. 

You’d been right. One kiss wasn’t enough. You weren’t sure you would ever have enough. 

But there was no time for more tonight.

“We should get going,” you whispered against his lips. 

“Pick back up here tomorrow?” Leon asked, stealing another little kiss from you. Your eyes widened in surprise, just as sure as your mouth curved up in satisfaction. Oh, he was going to be fun. 

“Not worried someone will see?” 

“No cameras,” Leon shrugged, still holding you close. His lips still brushing yours.

“Someone’s been paying attention.” 

“So? Is it a date?” God, he was cute. A date was dinner and a night at the drive-in. A trip to the bowling alley. Something - anything - but two spec ops recruits stealing kisses in the blind spots of the cameras. Still, it was the best you could hope for, and all you would ask for. 

“Maybe,” you grinned, feeling some dark elation that pushed you to kiss him again, harder this time. You caught his bottom lip between your teeth, nipping at him, and the little gasp he made set your blood rushing in your veins. You were going to get more of those reactions from him, you made that promise to yourself then and there. “If you can beat me tomorrow, after drills . . . then we’ll see.” The challenge was whispered with a hiss and a devilish smile. You were having far too much fun, and you only wished you could see Leon’s reaction better. 

“So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” He could try to act offended all he wanted. You could hear the excitement in his voice all the same. “I’ve beaten you before, you know.” 

“Well then tomorrow should be fun, right?” Another kiss. Leon snaked his tongue past your teeth, and you hummed at the feeling. 

When the two of you separated, he didn’t go far. “How will tomorrow be?” Leon asked, a touch more serious. He was asking about the training, you knew. Krauser wouldn’t give your new squad mates a reprieve. He would throw them into the water, where they would either sink or swim. 

“It’ll be hard,” you admitted, “but you’ll be alright. You’re tough.” 

Leon smiled. Nodded. “But there won’t be any more ambushes or anything, right?” 

“Telling you would-”

“Defeat the point, I know.” It was said with a roll of his eyes, his tone good-natured as it so often was. And he lingered there for a moment longer, like he didn’t want the night to end. Neither of you did. 

Still, you eventually both found it in yourself to stand. Leon left first - something you agreed upon to make yourselves look a modicum less suspicious. Not that it would really matter, you got the feeling. You were both living in a place that was under constant surveillance, after all. It would only be a matter of time before someone found out. 

Another thing you added to the list of reasons you were being a fool. 

Another thing you ignored as you let yourself smile at nothing while you walked back to the barracks.

Chapter Text

You had been telling the truth; Leon’s first day with his new squad was hard. 

It had all opened with a speech from Krauser, as so many days here had started. “I’ll promise you one thing,” he’d said, his voice severe as ever, “you’ll all be miserable. One of you makes a mistake, you’re all paying the price for it. You’re going to end up in the dirt, you’re going to run until your legs give out, and you’ll do it all without complaining because the more you sweat here, the less you’ll bleed out there.” 

In the first hours, Krauser delivered on that promise. 

All of it was dialed up to ten, and Leon could only struggle through it. The longer run in the morning, the more demanding exercises, the combat . . . trying to keep his focus off of you . . . 

He would catch your gaze, sometimes. It was never more than a second or two at a time - you both had plenty of other things to focus on - but Leon found some small solace in your eyes. You were always silently urging him on. Telling him to keep going with just a look. 

So, he pushed through the pain and exertion, because he had to. If it didn't break him, all of this would make him stronger. 

Raccoon City hadn't been able to break him. Neither would this. 

"You going to make it, pretty boy?" There was only one person Leon wanted to hear that nickname from, and it certainly wasn't Valeria. Not in the middle of their second run of the day, each of them carrying an ammo case along with their normal gear, when Leon's lungs felt like they were going to cave in on themselves. Not when, in the time since the tear gas attack, he’d realized who had likely put him in that headlock. Who had knocked him to the ground with a punch that left an ugly bruise forming on his jaw. 

"I'll be fine." It was more a growl than anything else, delivered through a sneer and a furrowed brow. His voice wavered with the impact of his footfalls. 

Valeria’s words did too, but her smirk never faltered. “Whatever you say. And no hard feelings about the hit, eh?” She took her hand off her ammo crate to point at his bruising jaw, giving him confirmation that he didn’t need. Still, the smug look on her face made him feel his frustrations sharp in his chest. “Figured you’d be used to it.” She grinned towards where you were running ahead of them, and Leon felt like someone had doused the ground in lighter fluid and set it ablaze, anger and embarrassment and all manner of other things burning at him. 

He did his best to use that fire to push him forward. 

He let it build in his gut when it came time to run the obstacle course, the humidity of the spring air pressing in around him. Each of them still held the ammo cases as they moved over the wooden planks and along ropes. It was an added thirty-five pounds of weight, as Krauser was happy to point out. And how would they navigate the course while still holding on to it? 

“You’d better figure that out.” 

Leon only made it part of the way before his case slipped from his grasp, and then he and the rest of the squad were doing push-ups. Twenty for his mistake. Twenty when Alenko fell from the course. Another twenty when Alejandro dropped his case, right before he reached the end. Twenty when even you slipped up, falling from the rope as you tried to save the case before it hit the ground. With each misstep, there was a punishment, just as promised. A punishment and glares of animosity from those who had managed to complete the task without error. 

By the end of that exercise, in a group of fifteen, only four had completed it successfully. Eleven failures. 

“I expected the rookies to be weak, but the rest of you?” Krauser shook his head in disappointment. That was the only break the squad got before moving on to the next exercise.  

Krauser wasn’t just pushing the new blood, Leon could see it in your labored breathing. Still, you were handling it much better than he was. Your whole squad was. Enough that most of them were able to snicker a bit at the new additions by the time dinner came around, when Leon and his old squad mates dragged themselves into the mess hall. Leon’s arms felt like they were made of sand - sand that had been soaking in the desert sun, scorching and heavy. His legs shook a little, and he was just then getting his breathing back under control. 

“Kind of thought there was going to be a party. You know, a little celebration,” Williams sighed, wiping her brow as she reached for her tray of food. 

Shinoda was in front of her, and he scoffed at the notion. “Today was our celebration, far as Krauser is concerned.” 

“Maybe we throw one for ourselves tonight, then,” Alenko huffed, and Shinoda shook his head in a decisive ‘no’. 

“Only way I’m celebrating tonight is with some extra sleep.” 

Williams groaned, rolling her eyes and giving a smile that was just shy of energized. “Aw come on, where’s the fun in that? Kennedy,” she turned to face Leon, one of her brows raised expectantly, “you’d join in, right?” 

Leon laughed, even if it hurt his core to do it. He appreciated the sentiment, he really did, but after the day he’d had, all he wanted to do was spend time with you. Even if it was in a sparring match, and even if his body’s aches would likely stop him from winning against you like you’d challenged him to. 

He wasn’t sure what that said about his life right now, and he didn’t care much to analyze it. All that mattered was that he’d had a shit day, and you made him happy. Kisses or words or the way you moved, it didn’t matter. You made him happy, and you made him stronger.

“I would but-” 

“But you’re gonna go get the shit kicked out of you, we know,” Alenko shook his head, clearly amused by the idea. It was no secret how Leon had been spending his evenings, after all. “You’re crazy, Kennedy, you know that?” 

Leon had to give him that. “Yeah, I know.” 

That didn’t stop him from showing up in the training yard that evening, because just as surely as he was going to lose this fight, his weariness lost horribly against his anticipation. By the look on your face, you knew exactly how this fight was going to end, same as Leon. You’d known the minute Leon had joined you at dinner, practically collapsing into the seat across from you. Even so, you hadn’t offered a night of rest, and Leon hadn’t asked for one. You’d just given him one of those knowing almost-smiles - the same kind you were giving him now. 

That look shouldn’t have excited him as much as it did. 

“Last chance to go join the party,” you grinned. You were tired, too, but something told Leon it wouldn’t be enough.

“Oh, you heard that?” 

You nodded, a knife arcing through the evening air after you tossed it. Leon’s arm protested him reaching out to take it out of the sky, but he managed to catch it anyway. “Sounds like things might get pretty crazy.” Even without the sarcasm dripping from your voice, it would have been clear that the truth was far removed from your words. 

“Wouldn’t be much of a party without music,” Leon shrugged - or went to, before his sore shoulders demanded otherwise. 

“Good thing we’ve got some, then.” Some classic rock today, it sounded like. Krauser must have moved out of his bluegrass phase. 

The Rolling Stones scored Leon’s defeat - one delivered sluggishly, the two of you moving slower than you usually did. Even those first few bouts had the two of you panting, staring across at each other with heavy eyes. Still, both of you kept going. Leon couldn’t say exactly what it was that pushed you both onward. It might have been your shared terrors, and the desire to rise above them. Maybe it was simply the strength of your characters - enduring through the pain. Or, perhaps, it was that teasing challenge you’d issued the night before, whispered against Leon’s lips. If you can beat me . . . 

Whatever the case, you both went on until at last the sun was down. 

“One more,” you breathed, letting your breath escape you in a slow exhale before you raised your guard again. Leon could see it was lower than usual. Anything that required less effort. “Let’s see if you can get that win.” 

And he tried - he really did - but he misjudged your exhaustion. Whether you were granted a sudden burst of energy, or it had all been a ploy, the fight ended with you taking Leon to the ground, then settling on top of him for a pin. 

The fatigue helped, of course, but as you straddled him, your knife at his belly and your face so, so close to his, Leon decided that he didn’t want to move from that position for the rest of the night. 

“Better luck next time,” you grinned down at him. 

“I feel pretty lucky right now, actually.” Leon wasn’t sure where the words came from, but he was a little bit delighted to see surprise flickering across your eyes. It wasn’t often that he caught you off guard. 

Then, your expression turned to something dangerous. “Careful, pretty boy,” you warned.

Did you mean to press your hips against his like that? Knowing you, you absolutely had. He’d lost. By your own rules, there would be no continuing last night’s affairs - but you’d promised him that you would tease him, too. You were ruthless with a blade, he fully expected you to be ruthless with your affections, when you wanted to be. 

When he looked up into your eyes that night, he could tell that you very much did want to be. 

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing.” Your words were hushed – a promise of something Leon had imagined for so long. 

If it was a game, it was one he’d be happy to lose. 

How long had it been since he’d felt so close to someone? How long since he had been able to hold onto a feeling other than regret? Even now, even as tired as he was, he found that he wasn’t exhausted enough to disregard those desires. He wanted you to move against him. To take the aches of the day and turn them into something sweeter. To kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. 

But you were both in the training yard, where anyone could see you. It would be mad to go any further here. Even so, Leon learned that you weren’t averse to a little risk when you glanced around. 

When you were satisfied no one was there to see, you moved like you were going to get up. All to disguise your true intent, as your lips brushing against the bruise at his jaw, just soft enough to not hurt the tender injury. Your hips dipped against his, making his throat go dry, and then you were standing, offering him a hand up. 

As you pulled him up, he was frustrated to find his desire overtaken by pain, and he winced as he stood. 

You noticed. 

“Tomorrow will be worse,” you cautioned, that playful spark gone from your eyes. Replaced with something more sincere. “But after that, it’ll get easier.” 

Leon nodded. You’d never lied to him before, he had no reason to distrust you now. “Right,” he sighed, taking a breath and meeting your eyes with a glint. “So, rematch after dinner?” 

“As if there was ever a doubt,” you nodded, smirking once more, and for a moment, he thought you were going to say more. It took you until the two of you were finished putting the training equipment away for the night for you to voice the question. “I know you said you would tell me, if things ever went too far,” you began, your voice low, “but how much are you comfortable with just yet?” 

“What do you mean?” Leon asked, and he could see the gears turning in your mind as you worked out how to say what you wanted to say.

“I mean . . . if we were anywhere else, and I asked you to come home with me and spend the night right now, would you say yes?” 

The question made Leon’s lips part, the initial shock of it wearing off quickly because he’d known that was the name of the game you were playing. It was hard to interpret the dark glances and pressing touches any other way. Still, he appreciated you asking. 

“Well . . . I’d like to take you on a date first,” he chuckled, and you gave him a look. 

In all honesty, in another life, he would have liked to wait. He would have wanted to take his time; to get to know you. He would have taken you out to dinner. Maybe a movie. He would have talked with you about your goals, your dreams. Your family. Embarrassing stories.

He couldn’t do that here, and he didn’t need to. Even if there were still mysteries - so many mysteries - about you, he knew you well, now. He knew the side of you that you didn’t show anyone else.  You pretended to act annoyed at bad jokes, but you told your fair share of them anyway. You liked the Spice Girls. You liked challenges. You were the type to apologize over and over for something, even when you didn’t need to. You pushed yourself because you never wanted to be caught unprepared again. You were afraid of losing people, so you hid yourself away. 

You cared, very deeply, about the people around you. Even if you tried to convince yourself otherwise. 

There was more to learn, he knew, and he would take whatever you were willing to share with him, in whatever way you were willing to offer. 

So, in this world where he knew his life and yours may be all too brief, Leon gave his answer with certainty. “I would say yes,” he said it quietly, moving a little closer to you. 

He watched your eyes flash, and you smiled that beautiful, incredible smile. “Alright then,” you nodded. “If I ever go too far . . . or if the teasing is too much, tell me. I’ll stop, no questions.” 

“Same goes for me,” Leon agreed. “But as far as the teasing goes . . . don’t think I’m going to surrender now.” 

He saw that competitive streak in you spark, and he knew he was going to be in for it. 

“Told you . . .” you tilted your head, leaning close, “. . .that’s a dangerous game to play with me.” 

“I’m counting on it,” Leon grinned right back, standing his ground the way you’d taught him too. 

There was no time for anything else. And besides, Leon didn’t mind earning his time with you. He’d discovered his feelings for you on the business end of your knife, after all. 

“Well,” you eventually said, “we can’t do much of a date, but I can at least walk you home.” 

“We live in the same place,” Leon laughed. 

“Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it?” you grinned right back. 

He almost forgot the pain in his body, laughing there with you. He held onto that feeling, savoring it while he could. Before the morning came and the pain began anew. 

⧫⧫⧫

The next few days were hard on Leon, you could see it plain as day. It was hard for everyone, but the new members of your squad especially. Every day they barely managed to pull themselves through exercises, and every evening they retreated to the barracks with heavy steps and hollow eyes. 

All but Leon. 

You didn’t feel like you quite had a right to be proud of him, but you were. You were proud of how hard he pushed himself, never once complaining. It didn’t matter what kind of hell Krauser put you all through, or how much pain he was in, he still joined you in the training yard every evening. 

And every evening, as he adjusted to the new training regiment, he came closer and closer to beating you. 

He nearly had you on the third day, his knife grazing you time and time again. On the fourth, he managed to disarm you, and you narrowly blocked a stab to the heart. Then, on the fifth day-

You’d been trading blows, the two of you working at a speed that must have looked like a blur, to the untrained eye. Any of the sluggishness Leon had been experiencing in the last few days was gone, replaced now with the desire to win. Maybe because he just wanted to be a better fighter, true, but you knew damn well it was also because you’d been torturing the poor man with your teasing for the last few days. On that third day, after sparring, you’d pulled him into one of the blind spots of the cameras, kissing him quickly, letting your lips trail down to his neck. “Almost had me, there,” you’d whispered, and felt him shiver. On the fourth day, when you’d finally managed to take him down by pinning him against the wall of the officer’s barracks, you’d looked right into those ocean blues of his and pressed your thigh in between his own, just long enough to make his breath hitch. Oh yes, you’d been pushing your luck, skirting the edge of that knife just as you promised him you would. And on that fifth day, you knew, you were going to end up falling over the edge. 

You’d known it going into sparring, even after your first few victories. There was just something in his eyes - a certainty and determination you’d come to see in him more and more. And beneath it all, there was a fervor there. A desire that had your belly fluttering with anticipation. 

Never in all your time in STRATCOM training had you wanted to lose a fight like you did that day. 

And Leon delivered. 

You swung your blade down at him, held in a reverse grip. His knife was held the same way - not a hold he favored, you knew. That was likely why he was able to catch you unawares, locking the flats of each blade on each other’s forearms and pulling down. The leverage there was enough to send your knife flying, your eyes widening as he brought his arm through and up in an arc. One that ended with the tip of his knife pressing up under your jaw. 

The two of you watched each other for a moment, the realization of what had just happened sinking in. The promise of what came next. 

“So, what do I get for winning this time?” Leon asked, and the strained timbre of his voice set your blood aflame. 

It was funny how now, with a knife to your throat, you found it so easy to look into Leon’s eyes. To communicate without words what you were feeling. Now, after so long spent running from what you felt, because you’d completely and utterly surrendered to the simple desire to be happy with him. You knew what you wanted, at long last. Still, after days of vexing him, the least you could do was offer him a choice. “Well . . . what do you want?” 

His eyes, so pretty and so blue, softened. It almost scared you, the way he looked at you then. If it were just desire, that would be easier. Instead, Leon Kennedy looked at you like you’d just offered him the night sky and everything in it. 

Terrifying, when you really only had one thing to offer, broken and imperfect as it was. He knew that, but his answer stayed the same. 

“You.” 

He spoke the word with such a soft honesty, it took all your willpower not to kiss him then and there, damned if anyone saw. Still, you had just enough of your wits about you to hold off, keeping his reverent gaze for a while longer. “Let’s clean up here,” you said, and the two of you put the training equipment away in record time. 

All the while, you found yourself looking over at him, the anticipation building in your gut. The need. When it was done, your eyes met, and without words the two of you began to make your way out of the training yard, towards the back of the mess hall, to that spot where you’d imagined pulling Leon into the shadows so many times. 

How had those imaginings become reality? 

You didn’t have the will to answer that, right now. All you wanted was him, and so you rushed towards the back side of the building, your mind abuzz and your body alight. 

You were so full of apprehension, you almost missed the smell of cigarette smoke. Still, it hit you and Leon just before you rounded the corner, and you both stopped dead in your tracks. With a quick signal for Leon to stay back, you peeked your head around the corner, trying to figure out if the smoke was indeed coming from the one place you needed to be right now. 

When you saw none other than Alejandro, his outline cast in the now-present moon’s light, you felt like the next puff of his cig was going to make you burst into flames. 

You looked back to Leon, shaking your head, and the shadows around him seemed to grow darker as he frowned. There was the blind spot by the officer’s barracks, you supposed, but that risked Krauser’s attention. Any of the other areas were supervised, you couldn’t linger there for too long without being watched. You did the math in your head and came to a conclusion that you absolutely loathed: your fantasies would have to wait another night. Maybe this was the universe punishing you for being a tease. A taste of your own medicine. 

With no choice but to retreat, the two of you began to make your way back, and you tried to calm the lingering excitement in your belly. “Just our luck,” Leon finally said, and the disappointment in his voice was endearing. 

“There’s always tomorrow,” you offered. You’d waited this long. Even if you didn’t want to, you could hold out another day. 

If you must. 

Leon nodded, pouting a little in the darkness. You couldn’t blame him. Still, he managed to give you a small smile. “Tomorrow.” 

As you both settled into your barracks that night, you knew Leon was thinking the same thing you were: tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

Chapter Text

There wasn’t much sleep to be found that night, and Leon was glad it was for a different reason than seeing ghosts dance in the dark. No, that night, he lay awake with only you on his mind. He found himself peering through the shadows, looking towards where your bunk was - one row up and two to the left - wondering if, maybe, you were having trouble sleeping for the same reasons. 

It made him feel a little ridiculous, that he was so excited to feel your touch, but he didn’t have it in him to feel embarrassed by it anymore. He was still young and now, for the first time in months, he actually felt it. 

He felt like a person again, instead of a cog in a machine, being crushed and reforged into something he wasn’t. 

So, however silly it was, he let his excitement keep him up long into the night, and when he finally slept, he dreamed of you. Only of you. His mind graced him with your touch, your taste, and Leon was all too happy to let the dream overtake him.

In the morning, he wondered if you knew what he was dreaming about, because as you and the rest rose from bed, your eyes found his instantly. The sweet torture began then and there. The anticipation. He wasn’t sure then how he was going to endure the countdown until evening, not when you were so close to him all day. Just out of reach. He glimpsed the skin of your back as you got ready, sliding your shirt on. Keeping your back to everyone. Hiding your scars. Then he caught you looking his way as he pulled his own shirt over his head. 

You grinned - so small that only someone who knew to look for it would catch it - and Leon wished he could grab time and push it past him. He wanted the day to blur by, to skip ahead. 

When you all formed up for morning drills, though, and Leon saw more of a storm than a person when he looked at Major Krauser, he knew that the day would, in fact, be a long one. 

It wasn’t the running with munitions cases that clued Leon in to the fact that Krauser was angry, or the way he timed each person at the firing range. Hell, even the doubled punishments for mistakes weren’t too out of the ordinary. It was the fact that Krauser was so quiet through it all. Never once did he make a scathing remark, or give one of his cruel, crooked smiles. He would just give corrections and dole out discipline with a tight-lipped frown, pointing out each and every misstep. Every moment of weakness. He wasn’t sure if he was frustrated or grateful that the struggle of it all forced him to focus on something other than you. By the time lunch rolled around, Leon was well and truly grateful for the extra hours he’d put in with you - Williams, Alenko and the rest of the cadets that had moved up with him were boneless as they slumped into their seats. He, at least, only felt like he was going to pass out a little. 

Even you looked winded, your shoulders slumped forward a bit and as you steadied your breathing. Still, you offered Leon a look - one that he’d come to know as encouragement. The day wasn’t over, after all. 

But god, he wished it was. 

He wished the two of you were alone, somewhere else where he could act on his desires. All the exhaustion in the world wouldn’t change that, he was sure. He decided then and there that even if this day sapped all his strength, he’d still drag himself to your side. So, he would endure whatever he had to, if he could escape to your touch when evening fell. He would push through the training, even if Krauser seemed to have a bone to pick with each and every one of them. 

“What did we do to piss him off?” Williams asked from down the bench, draping herself over the table only for Alenko to shove her away from his food. 

“I think us existing is justification enough for him,” he huffed. 

Leon wasn’t so sure - and if your expression was any indication, neither were you. Krauser was an asshole, sure, but never without purpose. At least, that was what Leon had seen of him since he started training with the Major. So, if he was pushing this hard . . . “He always has reasons for what he does,” you said, and both Williams and Alenko seemed surprised you were speaking to them at all. Leon couldn’t blame them - it wasn’t often that you engaged with the other members of the squad, even those that you had trained with for longer. He almost laughed at the fact that you were doing it now to defend Krauser’s brutal teaching style. But then, he saved your life once, hadn’t he? Leon could understand your loyalty, even if sometimes he disagreed. 

“I know he’s trying to prepare us but damn,” Williams said after a while, shaking her head. “Feels like my legs are gonna fall off.” 

“You’ll be fine. He picked you all to be here for a reason,” you insisted. It wasn’t a reassurance delivered with an abundance of compassion, per se, but Leon could hear the sincerity in your voice. It made him smile, and even through her surprise, Williams almost did the same. 

Then, she grimaced again. “Yeah, well, kinda wishing I got left back with the old squad, right about now.” 

“What?” Leon grinned. “And miss out on all the fun?” 

“It’s only fun for you because you’re getting one-on-one instruction with the fucking Terminator, Kennedy.” Williams glanced over to you as soon as she said the words, wincing as she realized she’d spoken them out loud. “No offense.” 

You just shrugged, taking another bite of your food. If anything, Leon swore you might have liked the nickname. “None taken.”

“Which reminds me,” Alenko butted in, looking towards you and Leon. “If you ever want a break from sparring with just each other, I wouldn’t mind getting a few pointers. Can’t let you outclass us in everything.” He gave Leon a friendly, challenging grin, and Leon wanted to return it. He did his best to, but the idea of other people joining in the evening training the two of you had been doing . . . it was selfish of him, but he didn’t like it, to say the least. 

Especially today of all days, when you had all but promised him what he’d been dreaming of for weeks. 

“You almost had me in the assessment,” you said to Alenko coolly, even if Leon thought he saw a bit of tension creep into your jaw. “You’re doing well already.” 

“Yeah, but we all could be doing better. Maybe that’ll give Krauser less to be angry about, if we’re all pushing ourselves.” 

“There’s pushing and then there’s punishing,” Williams said, then added, “again, no offense.”

“And we’ve been getting our asses kicked every day for the last week,” Alenko shook his head. 

“All the more reason for us to put in some extra hours. Less ass-kicking sounds good, don’t you think?”

He was right, but even so . . . Leon glanced between you and the other soldier, trying to think of what to say that wouldn’t give anything away-

“Alright,” you said, and Leon nearly jumped out of his skin until you went on. “Tomorrow, if you want to join, you can. Don’t think fighting today would do you or me any good,” you said, glancing at the way Alenko’s body was slumped in on itself, and Leon could kiss you then and there for the evasion. 

Alenko huffed a little laugh and nodded. “Fair point. Think the mandatory sparring will be enough for me today.” 

Leon almost agreed with him. He couldn’t help but feel that the worst of Krauser’s trials that day had yet to come. So, as the squad formed up in the training yard that afternoon, he tried to prepare himself. Everyone was paired off, and Leon found himself standing across from none other than Valeria, the soldier giving him a wicked smile. She didn’t say anything - not while Krauser was giving instructions - but Leon could almost hear her taunts anyway. He glanced over at you, seeing you rolling your shoulders back, standing across from Alejandro. It almost made him laugh; after last night, you likely had some frustrations to vent with the man, even if Alejandro didn’t know it. 

That urge to laugh died in Leon’s throat when Krauser started to speak, his words more serious than Leon had ever heard them. “Come arm yourselves. We’ll begin when I give the word and not a second before,” he said, gesturing to his side, to the table where sunlight shone bright off of steel. 

Leon followed behind the other recruits, reaching the table just as you and Alejandro reached for the knives . . . and then paused. It didn’t take Leon long to realize what had made you both hesitate. He had become intimately familiar with the practice blades over the last few weeks. All blunted with cheap grips, designed to take a beating and to imitate the real thing closely enough for practice’s sake. 

The knives on the table were not the blades you all have been using so far. Rather, they were pristine, their handles seemingly untouched and their blades brand new. 

Being brand new wasn’t the only thing that caught Leon’s eyes about those blades, and he felt his heart speed up.

They looked . . . 

 “Are these edged, sir?” Alejandro asked first, and Krauser just gave him a look. 

“They are,” the Major nodded, and Leon felt his stomach drop. “Now go, you’re holding up the line.” 

Leon hadn’t known Alejandro long, nor did he know him well, but he could see the normally intense man waver before he reached for the weapon. There was confusion in his eyes as he stepped to the side, and he carefully thumbed the edge of the knife, like he was sure that Krauser had been lying. By the knot that formed between his brows, Leon could see that the Major had been telling the truth. The weapons they were going to be using today were edged. They would cut skin and muscle, if they weren’t careful. It was enough to scare Alejandro and the rest. Even Valeria stiffened at his side, a look of disbelief crossing her face. 

Leon was scared, because he’d never felt the bite of a knife before. He’d never known what it was to have steel part his skin like that. Not in a fight. Not when it was against someone trained to go for the kill. Even so, he couldn’t think too long about his own fear. 

The only person he could think of was you, because he saw the way you froze at the table, a knife clasped in your hand and your gaze fixed down on its blade. “We don’t have all day,” Krauser said, and the words forced you to move. When you turned so Leon could see you, you didn’t look at him. Even as you walked past him to join Alejandro, you didn’t spare him a glance. You didn’t spare anyone a glance. You just moved through the crowd with that unreadable expression, knife clutched tight at your side. 

He knew you weren’t seeing the world as it was, then. You were seeing that night, just as he had seen Raccoon City when Krauser had sent your squad after his in the dark, during his assessment. He knew, as you looked over at Alejandro’s knife, that you weren’t here, but rather, you were fighting off a memory. 

And he knew that, in this moment, there wasn’t anything he could do to help you. 

But he was going to try, anyway. 

“Sir, I don’t think we should-”

He didn’t even get to finish the sentence before Krauser fixed a cold glare on him. “Take the goddamn knife, rookie,” he said, before Leon could even make his point. “I have a lesson to teach.” 

The threat implied in his tone was not lost on Leon. He knew Krauser would make his life hell if he pushed this issue. He knew that he would probably just be removed from the exercise at best. At worst . . . he wasn’t sure what the worst case scenario would be. Didn’t really want to know what Krauser’s “worst” was. Not when he’d been willing to tear gas Leon and his squad for a training exercise, and not when he was going to make them fight with edged weapons now. 

He wasn’t going to do himself any favors, and at the end of the day, however you felt about what was happening, you weren’t backing down. You never would. 

So, Leon set his face in stone and reached for a blade. 

It weighed no more than the practice knives, but somehow, it felt heavier. That was all Leon could think as he and Valeria made their way to their own space, each of them eying the weapon that the other held. 

Were he elsewhere, he might have been awestruck - his mind might have assured him that this wasn’t happening. 

He knew better, though. 

He knew the blade and the threat it represented were very, very real. 

“You’ll start and stop when I give the word, understood?” 

There was silence for just a moment too long. 

“Understood?” Krauser demanded. 

“Yes, sir.” The responses were all strained. Some of the recruits, Leon included looked between each other, trying to determine if this was all some sick joke. Others just raised their blades into their preferred guards, silently preparing. Whatever the response, everyone had one thing in common: fear.

And that fear didn’t matter to the Major. “On my mark,” Krauser’s voice was the tolling of a bell across the churchyard, looming and mighty and inescapable. Leon could only bend his knees and raise his weapon, his mind rushing and his eyes wide. He and Valeria looked at each other, eyes, hands, blades, trying to determine what was about to happen. Trying to divine who would move first. Where the blades would fall. 

This was the first time he’d seen the soldier across from him afraid, but even in that moment, there was no doubt in his mind that she would attack him. That she would not hesitate. 

Krauser began a countdown. “Three-”

Control the blade-

Use the attack-

More than just your knife-

Smaller arm movements-

Everything you and the Major had told him, every lesson, flooded him so fast he could barely pick out details. He suddenly came to doubt the steel in his hand, even after all the hours spent training with you and the others. Even if he knew he was skilled, because even skilled people made mistakes. Even you made mistakes. 

Even Valeria could make mistakes. If either of them made a misstep, if either of them missed a dodge? Or cut a little too deep? 

“Two-”

He knew what pain was. He’d survived explosions. The crushing strength of a monster twice his size. A bullet. 

He could do this. 

That was what he thought as he gripped his knife tighter, the knowledge of what he’d lived through waging a brutal war against the fear of being cut. 

He didn’t have to win. He just needed to protect himself. 

“One-”

All went still. Leon felt his mind retreat to a safe distance when he needed it most. He could only stare at the knife across from him, and the woman who held it. He knew his heart was pounding in his chest. He knew fear throbbed in time with it, but he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything but a heaviness that could kill. 

Oh, god.

Oh, god.

Oh, god-

Is this what you’d felt-

“Hold!”

Leon flinched, because he’d been ready to retreat. Ready to guard. Ready to bleed. Instead, he found himself staring ahead at an equally confused Valeria, the two hesitating to breathe because they wanted to make sure they’d heard the Major right. 

“You can all drop your guards,” Krauser said, and Leon felt something flash through him. Not anger, not frustration, but white hot fury. 

What the fuck had that been for?

He’d let them think they were going to cut each other to pieces in the name of practice, and for what? 

Krauser must have known to expect such anger, and such questions, because he spoke again before a slew of curses threatened to explode from Leon’s lips. “Nothing quite like the threat of real steel, is there? Sobers you up. You can have all the training in the world, but if you don’t respect the threat those knives pose, then you will get bled, someday. Going forward, when we’re using our practice knives, I want you all to remember how this felt today. And I want you all to work past that fear, because if you freeze up out there, if you give the enemy a second to act, then you will die.” His eyes, a cold blue searched the faces of the recruits before him, and Leon swallowed when he saw him glance your way. “You have to be ready. Always.” 

There was something in his voice. A frustration. A fear. 

Leon noticed it, but he didn’t much care. Didn’t feel sympathy. Because, as the squad was dismissed, he saw your face, haunted and distant, more frightened than he’d ever seen you. Alejandro noticed too, placing a hand on your shoulder. You shrugged him off, and Leon saw you fight to get your mask back on - that expression of impassiveness you hid behind so often. 

It wasn't much of an effort. 

⧫⧫⧫

You’d failed. 

You’d seen a knife in front of you, a real, edged knife, and you’d failed.

You thought of that moment over and over again as the evening crept in, watching Alejandro’s blade as you waited for Krauser to tell you to begin. Only, you hadn’t seen Alejandro standing in front of you. No. You’d seen a dark room, and snow outside, and-

You should have known-

“What are you-” 

The knife went into you once. Twice. Three times-

You heard more than felt the bone break under the steel-

Red lenses where eyes should have been-

The gas mask hid his face, but you could feel no pity in his gaze-

Someone screaming your name-

The pain of it seemed so recent, then, and as you’d looked at that blade, you could remember with perfect clarity the agony of it. The pain that burned you from the inside out, that drove you to be what you’d become today. 

All those months spent vowing you would never feel that pain again, and you hadn’t even been able to face it here. 

How could you ever hope to survive in the real world again, if you froze when facing down a squad mate? One who wouldn’t have even gone for the kill, if the fight had actually happened. 

How could you protect anyone if you were this weak? 

Weak. 

Weak. 

That was the word that plagued you that night. When you heard Leon say your name softly, like he was afraid you were going to break, you couldn’t help but whirl on him, your anger flaring because you weren’t breakable. He didn’t need to treat you like you were. 

Then you saw his eyes, the concern there - concern and support, but no pity to be found. 

He’d never pitied you. 

You didn’t know if you could thank him for that, but you should have, maybe. 

You saw his eyes and that anger faded. Got pushed far enough back that you could almost think clearly, even as your chest felt full of hot air and your hands were clenched tight at your sides. 

“What do you need?” Leon asked, and you wanted to hate him for being so considerate, for knowing exactly what to say to you in that moment. You wanted someone to be angry with other than yourself, but it couldn’t be Leon. This wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t even Krauser’s. 

The blame was on you, for not being ready. For being too weak to escape the past. 

So, when Leon asked that question, you knew your answer, even if you were sure it would confuse him. Even if you’d promised him a night of soft touches and gentle sighs. 

“Training yard.” You grunted more than spoke the words, looking away from his eyes. 

You couldn’t look into his eyes for too long. Not now. 

There was a moment of hesitation, but you saw him nod in the end. “Okay.” 

He followed you there after dinner - a meal spent in near silence. The rest of the squad had seen your reaction to the knives. They’d seen your scars, most of them. They knew better than to ask, and they knew better than to approach you today. You were grateful for the peace, if it could be called that. Then again, with the way your thoughts assaulted you, “peace” was perhaps the wrong word. Still, you wanted to be alone with those thoughts. You wanted to try to get them under control, so that by the time you and Leon reached the training yard, you would be at an equilibrium again. 

It was no great surprise to you that your plan failed, and your mind was full of troubles when you handed Leon a practice knife. There was no music playing that night.

“You’re going unarmed?” Leon asked, and you nodded without hesitation. 

“I need you not to hold back,” you said, watching as Leon’s face shifted. “I need you to come at me like you want me dead.” 

The words made Leon’s expression shift, and he took a step forward, about to protest. You stopped him. 

“Just do it,” you said, more forcefully this time. 

You hoped he could see all that you couldn’t say in your eyes. You needed this. You needed to prove to yourself that this was something you could do. You needed to be ready, so you wouldn't ever feel a blade parting your flesh again. You needed to put the past behind you at last, and maybe, just maybe, overcoming this fear was the way to do that. 

All of that was a lot for just one silent moment of eye contact. You knew Leon couldn’t read your mind. He wouldn’t know your reasons unless you told him. 

Still, it seemed that moment of eye contact was enough - and you knew as he nodded that he didn’t need to know your reasoning. Not when he probably had similar shadows biting at his heels. Leon nodded then, swallowing as he did it and raising the blade in front of him. 

“When you’re ready,” he said. 

“Don’t give me a warning,” you shook your head. Leon grimaced but nodded. 

He went for your heart first. 

You moved out of the way, your eyes flaring and any counter you would have normally performed absent.

It’s real, you tried to convince yourself, clinging to the utter and complete terror you’d felt during Krauser’s lesson. That knife is real, and if it touches me, it will draw blood. 

Leon lunged again after a moment, clearly still hesitant. “I said not to hold back,” you growled, knowing full well that you were being selfish. That you were asking him to do something he was uncomfortable with. 

But he was obliging you.

He was obliging you because he wanted to help, because he was sweet. Kind. 

If he stayed with you, would you get him killed the way you’d gotten everyone else killed? Would you be too slow, and he just fast enough to stop you from dying while forgetting himself? Would you have to watch him turn into something because you failed? 

No.

No, because you were going to be stronger than this. The past had you in a strangle-hold, and you were going to spit blood up in its eyes, kick it between the legs and overpower it. You were going to win through spite and skills and sheer power. 

Leon’s knife found its way to your neck before you could even register it, and you realized you’d been lost in your thoughts. Too focused on what you wanted, you forgot what was in front of you. 

It made something dark and deadly claw at your stomach, and you clenched your jaw. 

“Again,” you said, more forcefully than you maybe intended. 

Leon looked at you for a moment, but again, he did as you asked. 

And again, after just a few moves, you found yourself dying to a move that you should have been able to stop. He’d come at you with a feint - one you used on him more times than you could count - and the knife stuck just below your armpit as you tried for a block too slow. Bleeding you out. It made heat rise to your face, anger with yourself coming with it. You should have been better than this. 

You were better than this. 

“Again.” 

It’s real.

This time the knife slashed across your throat when you fumbled a disarm. 

“Again.” 

The knife is real.

He caught you in the stomach-

“Again.”

It’s not Leon attacking you. 

The side-

“Again!”

Red lenses where eyes should have been-

The heart. The knife hit right above your heart, and for a moment you thought you’d pulled the edged knife from your memory and into reality, because your chest hurt. You backed away, grinding your teeth together so hard your jaw ached, your throat constricting. It was anger. Anger was bringing about this reaction in you.

It didn’t matter, though. You had to keep going.

“Again-”

Leon spoke your name, and you stopped because you had never, in all these weeks, heard him sound so forceful. His eyes, normally so soft and blue, were unyielding as he looked at you. Unyielding, but compassionate in a way that only he could manage. He put the knife in his pocket and stepped towards you, reaching a hand up towards you slowly. You stilled, letting him come closer, expecting him to rest it on your shoulder. Instead, it came up to cup your cheek, and something in you began to chip and shatter. “You’re not there,” he said simply, seeing through you and into the memory you’d conjured up around you. “You’re here, with me.” 

His touch was a reminder of that, so soft against your face - a gentleness you’d not known before, completely alien next to the life of grit and gunmetal you lived. 

“Breathe.” 

It was enough to pull you back to the present, enough to make you feel the shoes you were standing in, the cooling evening air, and the beating of your heart slow a touch. 

You did as he asked, breathing slowly. In, then out. The pain in your chest made it hard, but you did it anyway. All the while, Leon kept his gaze on you, as much as part of you wished he would look away.

You stared into the sky of his eyes, searching for something you couldn’t place. Somethings, maybe. All of them unknown and out of reach. And he let you look, holding your gaze and looking for the same things in you. It was a moment that may have lasted seconds or hours, and you wouldn’t have known. Once your breathing steadied, there were still so many emotions left simmering beneath the surface, and chief among them was shame. You shouldn’t have had to rely on Leon for this. You shouldn’t have had to be doing this at all. 

“I’m sorry-” you croaked, speaking to the living and the dead alike.

Leon just shook his head, looking at you from under that ridiculous sand-blond hair. “Don’t be.”

It didn’t stop the shame from pooling in you. It didn’t erase the fear or the memories, but it did let other things rise to the surface. Things like gratitude, for him being there, fear, for him being so selfless and caring and, most of all, affection. Affection so strong it was almost staggering. 

That affection nearly knocked you to the ground when, after a moment, Leon’s hand fell away from your face and reached for the knife in his pocket. You watched him spin it around his fingers the way you so often did, giving you a soft smile before he spoke. “Again?”

That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, you’d said to Leon. Again, your own words bit into you, and you were feeling too much else to care.

“. . . Again.” 

He moved just too fast the first time around, and you were just regaining your focus. The knife ended up pressed against your neck, and you felt those thoughts encroaching again, but you brushed them off. 

You were here. You were with Leon. 

Another win for him came after a longer fight, and you could feel yourself getting tense again. 

You were with Leon, and he would never hurt you. 

And therein lay the problem, and thinking of it had you breathing heavy as you lost once again, after you nearly managed to disarm him. 

He cared for you too much. You knew what happened to people that cared for you.

You bared your teeth, blocking attack after attack. Then you grunted as a slash found your arm, but you weren’t done yet. 

If anything happened to him-

He attacked your leg, and you realized just in time that it was a feint. You blocked and struck his stomach with your free hand. He retreated just in time to avoid you taking the knife from him. 

If he died protecting you, as so many others had-

A cry of exertion escaped you as you moved to the side, seeing the knife flashing towards your gut. Towards where your scar lay. The motion made your dog tags smack against your chest. 

You would never forgive yourself. 

Your hands moved fast, trapping Leon’s hand and the knife in it against your stomach, against the rough scar tissue hidden beneath your shirt. 

You had to be stronger.

The knife came free of his grip as you twisted it loose, yelping in pain as you strained his wrist in doing so. 

You had to be able to protect him.

You bared your teeth in a yell, moving the knife so fast it could barely be seen. It landed at his windpipe, and he inhaled sharply. Eyes wide, lips parted, he looked at you then, and you saw fear in him. Not fear of you. Fear for you. 

You wouldn’t lose him, too.

You let your knife fall to his chest when you crashed your lips against his, the world around you be damned. You wanted to forget. You wanted that happiness you’d pushed away for so long. You wanted him. 

You’d made him a promise, after all. 

After a moment, he kissed you back, his free hand coming up to your shoulder as his lips moved against yours, trying to keep up. No easy feat, because you were all fire. Maybe you weren’t going to burn for long, but while you did . . . you were going to burn bright and burn strong. As you parted from him, the two of you breathless, you saw in Leon’s eyes that he was going to burn with you. 

But he was Leon. He was considerate and kind, even when his eyes were dark with desire. “Are you sure-” 

Your jaw tightened, and you realized then the pressure in your throat. It hurt as you nodded, choking your words so they were quiet. “I’m sure. If you are.” 

He looked at you then, and you thought for a moment you were going to break because no one should look at you, wretched as you were, with such care. Such adoration. “If it’s what you want - if it’ll help - then I am.” 

And then you kissed him again, letting the knife in your hands fall to the ground so you could hold him instead.

Chapter Text

Leon had become very familiar with the feeling of his heart racing. 

He’d felt it running from the undead in Raccoon City. When he raced against time to escape the Umbrella labs with his life. When he’d been recruited, and forced to train hard so hard he thought his body would fail him. When he’d been awakened with tear gas, or told to run mile after mile, or when he stood across from a soldier armed with an edged blade. All that time spent with his heart beating against his ribs . . . 

And none of those experiences set his blood racing quite like when you pushed him up against the wall of the mess hall that night, your lips finding his easily in the dark. 

There had been no one occupying the blind spot that night. No other soul to intrude. Lucky, Leon thought. Lucky for him, lucky for you, and most of all, lucky for whoever had chosen not to take that smoke break, because you may well have killed anyone who interrupted this moment. He may have helped you.

But you were alone. Just you and him and weeks’ worth of tension rolling between you, demanding that you both answer it. Pulling you closer. Pressing you together. 

Weeks of tension, and the need to-

⧫⧫⧫

Forget.

That was all you wanted. You wanted to be somewhere other than the snow and the dark. To feel something other than the pain of your torn belly and your shredded heart. To taste something other than the blood in your mouth and the defeat that washed it down. 

You wanted to be free of the past for just a few moments of peace.

And you were seeking it in the too-pretty boy you kissed now. The beautiful, kind man who had been so patient with you. So caring. And now you would repay him for that kindness. 

Or you would ruin him.

You weren’t sure which urge would win out, in the end. You only knew one thing: you wanted to forget, but you needed this. Him. You needed to be here with him, on a warm spring night. You needed to feel his lips on your own, his skin against yours. You needed to taste him. 

So, you broke your kiss, moving your lips down to-

⧫⧫⧫

His throat.

Of course you would go for the throat. 

You were relentless, kissing the skin of his neck like you were on a mission - like you were seeking out the weak points in his guard. The points that would bring him to his knees. The way you worked your mouth was not entirely different from the way you worked with knives, he was learning. Brutal, efficient and deadly. The difference was cruelty. You were never cruel with your blades. With blades, you had a job to get done, and you accomplished it quickly. Without malice. 

With your mouth, though . . .

He drew in a sharp breath as he felt you close your lips around his pulse point and suck the skin into your mouth. Were you trying to leave a mark? He thought, and it made his heart beat ever faster. Surely you weren’t. Surely you wouldn’t. 

But the thought of it . . .

You stopped the effort, and then Leon could only shiver as your tongue smoothed over where your mouth had just been, and he shivered. 

“Oh, god-” he breathed. 

He was silenced a moment later with a kiss, searing and fierce. Then, you pulled just a heartbeat away and-

⧫⧫⧫

“You’ve gotta be quiet, pretty boy.” 

Your warning was whispered, your lips brushing against his as you said it. It was the last thing you wanted to tell him to do. In a perfect world, you would have him moaning the sounds he made that day when you pulled his hair. You would have savored those whines like the sweetest song in the world.

But you were on base, and you had a goal, and you couldn’t afford discovery. Not now. 

Besides, as much as you wanted to hear Leon’s sounds . . . you could settle for the way he looked at you through the dark when you gave your order. You didn’t need to be able to see the finer details of his face to know he was blushing. You could feel it in the heaviness of his breathing, in the way his hands held you like he was afraid this was a dream he’d wake up from. 

But it wasn’t a dream. 

No dream could have prepared you or him for the way your tongues felt against each other. Or the way the heat of your bodies mixed together . . .

⧫⧫⧫

. . . Or the way he shuddered when he felt your hand press between his legs, palming him through the rough material of his fatigues. 

He had to bite back his moan because you’ve gotta be quiet, pretty boy. 

Luckily, you kissed him again, and then he was free to groan into your mouth, trusting that it would muffle the sound enough. He was all too pleased when you answered with a soft sound of your own. Then, you pulled away just enough to whisper to him. “You still sure you want this?” you asked, and your voice was ragged. Desperate. 

“Fuck yes,” he nodded, breathing hard. How could his answer be anything else? How could you think he would give any other response when he pressed his hips against you, meeting your strength with his own and oh god he’d not thought it would feel this good. His dreams and imaginings hadn’t done it justice, because nothing could compare to the real thing. Nothing could compare to you, just as immovable as the wall you pressed him against. “Do you? Still want this?” He still found it in himself to check in - to ask if you wanted this, just as you had. 

You answered him with a tone that sent a twinge of dark excitement through him. “I thought that was fairly obvious.” And it was. You wanted him. The world had taken so much from him, but this? This moment? It was his. It was yours.

He wanted more. He wanted you to feel blood rush through you, just as it rushed through him. 

His own hand moved down from your hip, and his mind a mess of emotion and thought because he just wanted to touch you. To feel you. And he nearly got there before-

⧫⧫⧫

You caught his wrist and pinned it against the wall at his side. 

Not yet. 

You had to do this first. Had to take care of him. Even as he broke the kiss to speak. “I want to-”

“Not yet.” You weren’t going to be argued with. This was what you wanted. What you needed. You needed to pay him back for everything. For your being so cold at first. For avoiding him. For making your past his problem so many times. For not being strong enough. 

And you needed to be in control of something, and as he looked into your eyes, you knew that he understood. He always did. 

You slipped your tongue into his mouth as thanks, and started to move your hand against him harder, feeling the shape of him. Feeling him harden at your touch. It wasn’t enough, and so you let go of Leon’s wrist, moving to undo his pants. He sucked in a breath as he realized what was happening, and you broke the kiss to look at him. To read his reaction. To savor it as best you could in the dark. 

Leon took the opportunity, and soon enough-

⧫⧫⧫

He leaned in, pressing his lips to your neck. 

He understood if you wanted to be in control. He knew why you would need that, but he couldn’t help himself. He just wanted to feel as much of you as he could, to see what reactions he could pull from you. 

And when you hummed at the feeling, Leon felt a surge of pride. It spurred him onwards, his mouth tracing new paths down your throat, his breath hot and shaky against you. But you were letting him do it for a reason. He knew it in his bones, and he knew it was because your hands were occupied at his hips. The anticipation of that was enough to make him work fast, seeking your pulse point, your collarbone - anything that would bring a response out of you. Anything that would make you feel good. 

But you had other priorities than your own pleasure, it seemed.

Leon felt the night air at his waist. He felt a warm hand slip past fabric and then-

⧫⧫⧫

He whimpered when you wrapped your hand around him, loud and breathy and perfect. 

You could have listened to that sound every moment for the rest of your life, were you anywhere else. As it was, your free hand clamped over his mouth an instant later, and his eyes widened. 

“What did I say about being quiet?” you whispered with a disbelieving smile, shaking your head. You were both still for a moment, trying to determine if anyone had heard him. If you would have to retreat into the night and continue another day. 

After a moment, you felt certain enough that no one had heard. 

And in that moment, you looked back at Leon, realizing you still had one hand over his mouth, and the other . . . 

Oh, he was looking at you like you held his whole damn life in your hands. And that sent a rush of dark, delicious power through you. 

“Can you stay quiet for me, baby?” you asked, your voice low. You stroked him slow, and he held back a sound. Then, he nodded, holding your eye contact against the dark. 

⧫⧫⧫

He needed you to move. To believe him. 

I’ll be quiet. 

Silent as the grave. 

Just move your hand-

“Alright then,” you nodded, and then things began in earnest. One hand remained at his mouth, and Leon held onto you, hips and shoulder. Bracing against you as you pulled one of his dreams into reality and you traced up and down him.

Your hand-

Oh, god, your hand . . .

The touches had him shivering, pleasure running up and down his spine like something was nipping at its heels. He watched you as best he could but found it a losing effort because it was hard to see you when you leaned back in to kiss his neck. You didn’t let him make a sound; your palm still pressed hard against his lips. Even if he couldn’t vocalize it, you knew damn well what you were doing to him. 

⧫⧫⧫

You knew it by the little vibrations against your hand - sounds that were trapped in Leon’s mouth, unable to escape past your grasp. You knew it in the hot breath that washed against your knuckles, in the rising of his chest. You knew it in the movements of his body, the way he pushed against you, craving something you had both imagined for so long. 

But you weren’t imagining anymore, and you weren’t going to let some half-baked daydreams outdo you. 

So, you let your hand fall away from his mouth, and then you started kissing down his chest. Down past his sternum, the fabric of his shirt warm from the skin underneath, and you wished he wasn’t wearing it. You wished you could kiss and lick and bite at his skin as you traveled down. 

Down. 

Down.

⧫⧫⧫

Down.

Leon took a shaky breath as he realized where you were going. What you were doing. 

Every kiss down his chest was a trail of fire, and he knew as he felt his skin warm to a fever pitch that the blaze was going to engulf him. 

Then you reached his waist, and Leon’s breath caught in his throat. 

He couldn’t really put a name to the first thing he felt, because it was more a jumble of thoughts than anything else. A string of oh god oh god yes please oh god that danced about his head as you pulled him free of the confines of his pants. He could only bite his lip as he looked down at you, your face shadowed, and he knew only that you could have asked him to do anything in that moment and he would have. You could have asked him to face down the world, and he would do it without flinching. 

But he knew what you were really asking, as you paused there, your hand still moving against him but the rest of your focus upward. On him. 

Do you want this? That was the unspoken question as you looked up at him. 

The answer was immediate. 

⧫⧫⧫

“Please,” you heard Leon whisper, and fucking hell you knew you needed more of that. More of him breathlessly asking you to bring him bliss. 

But you needed this more, because you’ve been waiting for this moment. 

You needed to move fast, as much as you wanted to take your time with him. To learn every secret his body kept. The thought of it made your insides warm - burn - and your mind was begging you to continue just as much as Leon was. 

So, you started by leaning in, and found that he was hot against your lips. Hot and hard and your kisses drew sighs from him. Your tongue was next, and you were certain that he’d break your rule of silence as he swallowed down a groan. He was breathing hard, but so were you. You tried to keep it under control as you dragged your tongue along him, making a map of him. He trembled as you reached his tip, and you thought he was going to cry out. 

But he’d always been strong. He turned the sound into a long exhale, and you smiled. 

That’s a good boy. 

But that had only been the beginning. He knew it as much as you did, so he tried to brace himself. You could feel it as you ran your hands up his tensing thighs. He was trying to be ready. It was an effort you appreciated, but he’d always had a hard time defending against you. 

And in that moment, you didn’t intend to be anything less than ruthless. 

So, you gave him no warning as your lips parted and then-

⧫⧫⧫

Your mouth was on him, and Leon was sure of one thing only: it wouldn’t be your knives that would be the death of him. It would be this. It would be your lips and your tongue and it’s all he can do not to cry out at the feeling of you taking him in. His teeth sank into the inside of his mouth, and his hands clutched at you - your shirt and the back of your head - and he somehow managed to maintain control. 

When you started to move, to slide your lips up and down him at a torturous pace, he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to maintain that control. 

“Holy shit-” he whispered, because he has to say something. He had to let you know how good you’re making him feel, and he wasn’t sure that looking down at you through the darkness would be enough. 

You had to know. 

You had to know how desperately he needed this. How completely and entirely enraptured he was by you. 

“God, you’re-” he stopped because there’s no word to do it justice. Besides, you took your mouth off of him for a moment to hold a finger to your lips. 

Quiet. 

All he could do was nod, and then his head fell back against the wall behind him as you resumed your work.

⧫⧫⧫

You were going to drive him over the edge. You promised him and yourself that as you moved, letting yourself be pulled down to the depths, refusing to come up for air. You just looked up at him, the moon highlighting him, so you could see his head thrown back, his lips parted in a silent prayer. 

You were no god, but you would answer that prayer. So, you hollowed your cheeks, letting your eyes fall closed and your mind run blank. 

Mercifully, blissfully blank. 

In that moment there was no past. No future. 

Only now, you and Leon, and the dark that you hid away in. The dark where you would give him everything you had. So, you moved fast, humming around him softly, each moment only making you hungry for-

⧫⧫⧫

More.

God, he needed more, and you gave it to him. You took him so well, your hand reaching where your mouth couldn’t, and every quiet groan from you was an earthquake. Thunder that shook him to his bones. He couldn’t help but move, trying to be gentle as he grabbed the back of your head, more to hold on than to guide you. You didn’t need guidance. You knew what you wanted. How to get it. 

And Leon just held on, hips moving faster and faster, finding it harder and harder to breathe. It wasn’t long before he felt himself approaching that edge, razor sharp and promising oblivion if he fell. 

Your fingers dug into his hips, and he couldn’t help himself. 

⧫⧫⧫

He whispered your name, and you felt the sound run through you - a bullet to the heart. Fast and final. You wished he hadn’t, because it sounded so . . . 

You didn’t let yourself think about how reverently he said it. How it had been less a name and more a wish. His next words - or word, rather - were easier to stomach. 

“I-” he stammered, doing his best to keep his voice down. You didn’t need him to complete the sentence. You knew. 

And you weren’t going to let up. You’d been taught to press the offensive if victory was in sight. And this was a victory you wished to savor the taste of. So, you grunted, setting a more brutal pace, and you felt Leon shake against the wall. You had never wanted to see someone come undone the way you did then. Never in all your life. And so, you went on, never letting him go, even as he tried to warn you that-

⧫⧫⧫

He was close. So close. 

He was all desperate sighs and clenched hands, his teeth grinding together to keep himself quiet. It felt good - so, so good. Better than any dream. Any fantasy. Because it was real. It was you. 

You.

That was what finally sent him over that edge - a glance down towards you in the dark. He caught the shine of the moonlight in your eyes as you took him deep, and then he was seeing stars there, too. In your eyes, on your face, in the air all around him. He came hard and he wanted to scream your name into the night sky. You must have been prepared for that, because the moan that threatened to break free from him was silenced as you reached a hand up, your hand clamping over his mouth just in time. 

Your own mouth didn’t move from him, though. You didn’t stop, even as he spilled down your throat, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut against it all. 

You were perfect. 

This was-

⧫⧫⧫

Perfect.

That was all you could think as you drank him down, straining to keep your hand at his mouth while the other rested at his hip, steadying him. You watched him in the dim light as he finished, getting lost in the strain of his neck and the crease in his brow. You could feel him whimpering against your palm, and you hummed in response, low and hushed and more caring than you intended. 

And when it was done, when you let him fall from your lips and pulled your hand away from his mouth, his hands were grasping at you, pulling you up to your feet. 

His lips were on yours then, and-

⧫⧫⧫

He didn’t care that he could taste himself in the kiss. He didn’t care that he could hardly breathe as he smashed his lips against yours. 

It was a long kiss. Slower than the previous ones, but deep and true. All that he wanted was to show you his appreciation, near boneless and quivering as it was. And when you groaned into the kiss, like he’d caught you off guard, he felt pride swell above the bliss-induced exhaustion. Pride and then a gratefulness that nearly brought him to his knees.

You had taken him away from it all, if only for a few moments. He hadn’t been here, on base. He’d been somewhere nameless and shapeless, just the two of you. It was the greatest gift you could have given him; he was sure.

And it would be wrong of him not to return the favor. 

⧫⧫⧫

You felt his hand move down to your waist. Your hips. His lips moved, too. Down to your neck, hungry and wanting. 

“Where you going there, Kennedy?” you murmured, stroking him a few more times before you would have to hide him away again behind his pants. At least, that was what you intended to do. You intended to leave it at that, more than satisfied with your own performance for the evening. 

It seems that Leon, despite the way he’d trembled and shook and finished, was not yet satiated. 

“I think you know where,” he said, and you could practically feel him grin against your throat. 

You would be a liar if you said you didn’t want what he implied. Working your mouth over him had left need building between your legs, and you wanted nothing more than to let him unwind that tangle with his hands. His tongue. 

But this wasn’t about what you wanted. 

“I can wait,” you said, and you hated the words. 

Leon answered them quickly. “But you shouldn’t have to.” He sounded so earnest. So damn sincere. 

“You want someone to see?” you asked, fighting his wants as much as your own. Because the longer the two of you lingered here, the more risks you took, the more likely you would be discovered. You knew it and Leon knew it. 

The difference was that he didn’t care. “I want to do this for you,” he insisted, pulling away from your neck, and looking into your eyes. At least it was dark out. At least you couldn’t fully see that meaningful look you knew he was giving you. Your resolve was already weak enough as it was. That only got worse as he went on, his words a whisper and his breath gently brushing your skin. “I want you to feel something good, just for a little while.” 

“. . . You’re so sure it’ll be good?” you found yourself asking with a smirk. 

You were a fool for this. For indulging him. But you would be damned if you let yourself walk away from him now. 

Leon’s teeth glinted in the low light as he smiled. “Pretty sure.” 

Goddamn it. 

“You’d better be quick then, pretty boy.” Your hand found his hair, and he groaned as you pulled him towards your mouth once more. 

Chapter Text

You’d been a soldier for years now. Joined young, stayed in because, well, frankly, you had nowhere else in the world. Years spent in the army, and years adjusting to that style of life. 

And in those years, you’d had your share of stolen moments. Rushed pleasures. They had all been the result of tension and stress needing to be alleviated, for you and what partners had been involved. They were the sort of trysts that you could usually put behind you. It had never been complicated.

This was different. 

You’ known that if you slept with Leon, then things would change. You’d known that the dynamic between the two of you would be different, that your mind would cast him in a different light. You’d known all of that going in. Even if it had gone no further than lips and hands, it was enough. More than enough (or, at least, enough for now). You did your best to brace for it, and that night, as you walked back to the barracks - separately, to avoid suspicion - you believed that you would be able to keep a lid on what had happened. 

You were successful, you thought. 

It was in the morning that problems started to arise, because as soon as you pushed yourself out of bed, you saw Leon across the way, combing his fingers through-

-his hair twisted around your fingers. You grabbed a fistful of it as he placed that first kiss between your legs, and got a soft moan from him for the effort-

You were used to memories coming at you sideways. Usually, though, they were horrors and pains. This was new. This, despite being a memory of pleasure, was almost worse, because it sent electricity shooting through you. And when you made eye contact across the bunks, and Leon’s face went a little red and- 

-he smiled. Even as he worked, even as his tongue lashed against your skin, he smiled up at you in the moonlight.

Oh, this was going to be a problem. 

You counted yourself lucky that you were used to that barrage of thoughts and memories. You had a practiced impassive mask to hide behind. Leon, though . . . when you caught him staring at you during morning drills, you knew two things. The first was that you could kick his ass in poker, if it ever came down to it, and the second was that he might as well be wearing a sign that read WE HAD SEX BEHIND THE MESS HALL LAST NIGHT. 

But you weren’t free of blame, either. Because you would hear him straining on the obstacle course, and-

You tugged on his hair again as you felt yourself coming undone at the seams, and the sound he tried to hide was all you wanted to hear-

You were fucked. Literally, figuratively . . . all of it. 

But you realized halfway through another brutal day of Krauser’s training that you were thinking more about Leon and the way his hands and mouth had felt on you than anything else. You were thinking of him so much that you barely even remembered the terror and shame that had driven you into his arms. Hell, you were so busy thinking about him that you barely even registered the pain of the brutal drills the Major put you through - and they should have been brutal. Krauser still seemed to very much be in a mood.   

You had pulled Leon into the shadows seeking comfort, and even if it didn’t keep the nightmares away, even if it would never erase the scars at your side or alleviate the weight of the dog tags around your throat, it had given you a moment of something else. One sweet memory for both you and him to cling to. 

And you knew you could never leave it at just one. 

With the way he was looking at you, with the sheer and utter need he held in those pretty blues of his, you knew that you and he were of the same mind. 

So, you let yourself stare back. 

When you were standing at attention and knew you could afford a moment of distraction, you let yourself recall how Leon had sounded. How he’d felt. It was a dangerous game to play, because each memory you replayed threatened to crack your impassive mask. The corner of your mouth would twitch upwards traitorously, and you had to fight to keep it down. 

And you would catch Leon doing the same damn thing, his eyes flitting away from your own if they ever met for too long. Like he was pulling his hand away after brushing hot metal. And that just made you want to tease him more. 

“You’ve been pretty chipper all day. Sleep well or something?” you asked at lunch before anyone else joined you at the table. You did it while scooping some food onto your fork, casual and quiet, like you were asking about the weather. You glanced up as the question landed and felt some satisfaction as his face reddened a bit. Fucking adorable. 

“Like a rock,” he admitted, and you could see him fighting a smile. Then, there was a knowing glint in his eye as he matched your casual demeanor, taking a sip of water and shrugging. He ran a hand through his hair so it fell the way it was supposed to, and you knew that he did it very purposefully. “Guess yesterday wore me out.” 

You almost smiled at that one. “Don’t let Krauser see you in a good mood. Bet he’d like to wipe that smile off your face,” you said, and even if there was a gleam in your eyes as you spoke, the words were genuine. No one had a reason to be happy, what with Krauser still seemingly pissed at nothing and everything. 

“Like to see him try,” Leon said, and you could only raise a brow at him. The man gets his shit rocked once and thinks he’s on top of the world. Still, he said it with brass that you had to respect. Stupid and foolish as it was.

Lots of stupid and foolish going around. 

And despite the training, despite the pain of being pushed to the limits, despite the horrors from your past that you’d been faced with the day before, you found yourself almost . . . hell, you were almost happy. 

And recognizing that - relishing it - was the most foolish thing you could have done. Not because you couldn’t keep things under wraps, but because the universe always had to lean itself back into being shit. 

And it started when Valeria pulled you aside after lunch. 

“Hey,” she’d greeted, and there was something about the way she was looking at you. She almost always wore a smug smile, but this? There was something more behind her eyes, this time. “Heard Williams and Alenko were gonna join you and pretty boy for sparring tonight.” 

Word traveled fast. And that was exactly what was worrying you. 

You nodded, trying to keep your face measured as you searched her expression. “That’s right.” 

“Hm,” she nodded, like she was pondering something strange. “Well, the way things went last night, guess I can’t blame them for wanting to join in the fun, eh?” 

You didn’t say anything, hoping that maybe she was talking about something else, but then she went on. 

“Hey, if anything, I’m impressed. The rookie’s got a pretty mouth, glad you helped him find a use for it other than frowning.” And just like that, the good day you’d been having took a bullet to the back of the head. Point blank. No warning. You almost swung at her. You might have, if it wouldn’t make things infinitely and undeniably worse. 

She’d seen. 

Or heard. 

However she knew, it didn’t matter. It only mattered that she did. You could see it in her eyes. In that damn fox smile of hers. “Hell,” she went on when you didn’t give her comment a response, “even I might swing by tonight. See if there’s room for me in all the fun.” 

Then she was walking past you, slapping a hand on your shoulder like you were comrades and she was proud of you. 

It made your blood boil. 

One time. One goddamn time was all it took for someone to know. And if Valeria knew . . . then who else did?

That was the question that made you avoid looking in Leon’s direction during afternoon drills. It made you try your best not to think of-

-a fistful of his hair-

-his mouth still on you-

-the sound he tried to hide-

Instead, you focused on your drills. Your shooting. Your knives. 

And the way Major Krauser’s eyes bored into the back of your skull. You caught him watching you a few times that afternoon. Not out of the ordinary - he was your instructor. It was his job. But there was something about his look . . .

You knew Krauser well. Better than the other recruits, because-

A shadow passed over the sun-

A red beret above you-

A gruff voice. “This one’s still alive!”

You didn’t need to know him well to see that he was angry - he had been since the day before. What you could see, though, was that he was also deep in thought. There was a grim decision being made behind those eyes. 

Those deep set, pale eyes that you saw fixed on Leon when the younger man wasn’t looking. Krauser was staring at him with his arms crossed while Leon disassembled a rifle that afternoon. Fixed on Leon specifically, not the gun he was working on. 

Oh, fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck. 

Maybe you were jumping to conclusions. If Krauser knew, you and Leon would both be on your asses, you were sure of it. But still, the way he was looking at Leon - at you - like he wanted to strangle one or both of you . . . 

And you had no real way to tell Leon. Not before dinner, or the next time there was a quiet moment. Nothing but the warning glances you gave him when you hoped Krauser wasn’t looking. You managed to get his attention when you caught him looking at you that evening before melee drills. He looked so content, even with the sweat on his brow. So damned happy. You hated having to fix a cold stare on him and shake your head. You hated the way that his smile faltered, and a look of concern took over his face. 

You glanced towards where Valeria walked ahead of you. Shook your head as subtly as you could manage. Hoping he would understand. 

His brows pinched together for a moment, and you steeled your heart. You had faith in him to comprehend your meaning, and after a moment, his eyes widened. 

He didn’t look at you with any sense of longing for the rest of the night. Even if you wished he could. Even if you wanted him to. 

You were all paired with the same people you’d been set against the day before, when it came time for knife drills. That meant you facing down Alejandro, and Leon . . . you bristled as you saw the way Valeria was smiling at him. The way her dark eyes were fixed on him, sharper than any knife. 

Don’t look. Don’t make it obvious. That was what you tried to remind yourself of. Thank god you had Alejandro’s blade to worry about. To channel your newfound frustrations against. 

But you were distracted. Maybe not as bad as you were last night, maybe for different reasons, but your focus had cracks in it all the same. 

It didn’t go unnoticed, and you heard a gruff voice at your back. “Stay focused, Sergeant,” Krauser hissed, and the frustration in his voice . . . 

So, you threw yourself into the fight. Hoping it would be enough. Hoping that Valeria hadn’t run her mouth and told anyone what she knew. Hoping that Krauser was angry for any other reason. 

Because if he knew . . . 

No. If he knew, it would all already be said and done. You would be in deep shit and that would be that. 

It was fine. 

It wasn’t, but so long as Krauser didn’t know, then it was fine. 

You would just have to talk to Valeria, maybe. Figure out what she wanted in exchange for her information, because she was always the type to leverage anything she could. You could find what she wanted, and then it would be alright.

It would be fine. 

That was what you told yourself, and you very nearly believed it. 

Right up until Krauser dismissed your squad for dinner and- “Sergeant, you stay.” 

Fuck.

You had no choice but to nod, trying to keep your face neutral. Maybe he was going to talk to you about yesterday. About the trial with the edged blades and how you’d frozen. Maybe he was going to tell you to get your shit together. 

You might even appreciate a talk like that. But then, his gaze moved away from you, and you felt yourself freezing as it locked on someone else. 

“And you, rookie. I need a word.” 

You looked back. You tensed as you saw Valeria's expression. Her shit-eating grin. But more than that, you saw Leon freeze in his tracks. Felt your heart turn to a block of ice, heavy and cold. 

The two of you looked at each other, and you wondered if the moments of joy had been worth it. If those wonderful minutes of peace the two of you had brought each other would equate to whatever happened now. 

You’d made a choice. 

You would deal with the consequences. 

And if it came to it, you knew then that whatever happened, Leon would not take the fall. You were the higher ranking one. You had been the one to initiate it. You would be held responsible. 

However much it would ruin you. 

But you supposed you would see just what those consequences would be soon enough. 

“With me,” Krauser ordered, and both you and Leon took a breath before falling into step, heading off towards whatever fate was waiting for you.

Chapter Text

It was perhaps one of the longest walks Leon had ever taken in his life. It couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes, but as far as Leon was concerned, it was a lifetime long. 

Even without your warning glance, Leon knew in his heart what the Major wanted to speak about. Because what else was there? Your nightly practices? He’d always approved of them. The reactions to the lesson yesterday? He would have spoken to you then and there, Leon felt. No, there was only one thing that Leon could imagine this talk being about. He knew it in his gut, because it was rolling enough that he felt like he was going to be sick. He would have known Krauser wanted to talk about the two of you even before you had pointed out Valeria. Even before, when he faced the grinning soldier down in training that night, she’d whispered a joke to him when he’d been locked in a struggle with her. 

“Didn’t realize you were into this,” she’d murmured, soft enough that only he could hear. Her knife glinted not half as bright as her smirk. “But if it’s fighting that turns you on, guess no one’s better than our Sergeant.” 

He’d been angry. 

He’d been furious because of course he couldn’t have one night of happiness. Just one. 

That anger helped him win the sparring match, knocking her leg out from under her and ending the fight with his knife against her chest. 

“You’re right. There is no one better.”

It was a stupid thing to say. He all but confirmed that he’d been with you, but he’d been so caught off guard.

Now, he could only wonder if it was his smart mouth that had gotten the two of you here. If Krauser had overheard the exchange. Or if Valeria had told him what she knew even before then. Or maybe the Major didn’t need to be told at all.

Whatever the case, Leon supposed it didn’t matter, now. 

Krauser led the two of you towards the officer’s barracks, never once looking back at either of you. And you . . . you wouldn’t look at him, either. Your eyes were focused ahead, on the ground in front of you. He knew that expression. Bracing for the inevitable. Ready to hurt. 

He wished you would look at him. He wished you would let him show that you were in this together, whatever was to come. 

But he also knew you. He knew that you so often needed to face things alone. 

That made it all the more difficult to bear when, finally, before you both entered the barracks, you glanced sideways at him. He wasn’t quite sure what it was that he saw in your eyes. Resignation, yes, but something else. Guilt? Regret? Fear? Whatever it was, it sent a shock of pain right through his heart. 

But then you offered him a different look - an attempt at something soothing, he thought - and Leon’s heart well and truly ached. 

God, he wanted to reach for you. To tell you that, somehow, this was all going to be alright. But that would likely be a lie. And you didn’t need his comfort. Right now, what the two of you needed was to keep yourselves together, and Leon knew it. You needed to be calm, on the off chance that this was about something else. If there was a chance you could avoid suspicion altogether.

So you walked forward quietly, the two of you in tow behind the Major, and Leon wondered if he would have to mourn another future with someone. If he would have to accept an ending to something before it really began. 

Best case scenario, the way he saw it, Krauser would tell the two of you to stop. Let you both off with a warning. At worst, though . . . would you be discharged? Leon had no choice but to be here. You, though . . . he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure and all he could imagine was a future where he couldn’t share hidden smiles with you. Where there would be no more stolen kisses. Where he lost you right as he started to truly know you. 

It had happened with Ada. 

It wouldn't happen with you, too. Not when you were the only good thing he had here in this hellhole. 

That was what he resolved as Krauser let you into an office and closed the door behind the two of you. Three chairs sat around a desk, one across from the other two. Pens, a computer. A radio. The Major took the lone seat on the far side, settling in like the weight of the world was pushing him down. Like he wasn’t looking forward to whatever this was about anymore than you two were. 

“Take a seat.” 

Leon didn’t move. Some part of him thought that if he didn’t do as the Major asked, the conversation wouldn’t begin. That he could avoid the pain of whatever was to come. But that wasn’t how the world worked. If it could take, it would take. All he could do was try to hold on to everything he could. 

You obeyed the command the Major gave, nodding silently and settling down across the table from the Major. Leon followed, keeping his eyes forward, his head held high. 

“Don’t mean to make you miss dinner, but we’ve got some things we need to discuss,” he started, and Leon’s brow twitched. His jaw tightened. “It’s not going to be a conversation either of you enjoy, but it needs to happen.” 

This was it, then. 

Leon knew well how to brace himself by now. 

He knew how to brace himself for pain, at least. He didn’t know, even after all he’d been through, how to brace himself for losing someone.

So he held his breath as Krauser started to speak in earnest . . .

“I need you both to tell me everything you know about the bioweapons you fought in Raccoon City and in Finland.” 

. . . and then Leon found himself speechless for another reason. 

He blinked, his mouth opening but no words came out. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see you do the same. 

Because this was not what he had called the two of you in to talk about, surely. 

Surely. 

“. . . I thought you’d read the reports, sir.” You spoke first, cautious as a person walking on fresh winter ice. Wondering if you were going to get lucky, or if it was going to give way beneath you. 

That storm that brewed behind Krauser’s eyes darkened. “I have. And they were just vague enough to not be helpful.” 

There was silence. Leon looking at you, you looking at him, both of you looking at Krauser. 

Had you really been that lucky? 

Had the two of you just dodged that bullet? 

That very much seemed to be the reality of things, as the Major went on. Leon realized he might be mistaking your hesitance for pain rather than confusion. “I’m not asking you to retell the whole night,” he said, impatient, “just the details of what you saw. What you fought. How you killed them.” Then, a look between the two of you, and something in that authoritative mask slipped. “I know what I’m asking. I know you both went through hell,” he said, and his voice was steady. Understanding, even. “But for your sakes and the sakes of everyone you train with, you need to push through and tell me.” 

Leon couldn’t help but blink again, his head still reeling from it all. 

“I gave them everything in my report,” he said after a moment, but the word “report” wasn’t exactly a truthful one. He’d been interrogated. Questioned thoroughly and completely about what he knew. What he’d seen. “Why wouldn’t they give you the details?”

Krauser’s demeanor shifted again, his mouth tightening. “That’s an excellent fucking question, rookie,” he growled, his hand clenched tight in a fist on the desk in front of him. “But I’ve got a pile of papers with redacted information and they’ve been giving me the run around when I ask for more. CIA bullshit.” Leon had never seen the Major so genuinely angry. So honestly and completely furious. 

And it wasn’t because of him or you or the night you’d shared. 

“I know there were bioweapons,” he went on, and Leon listened, his demeanor suddenly changed, “and I know the infection that they sanitized Raccoon City for was making people violent and difficult to kill, same as what you reported in Finland. I know that you faced something else, Kennedy,” that steely blue gaze lasered in on Leon, “but no one’s telling me much about what that something is.” 

“That’s because they were involved.” Leon blurted it before he could stop himself, his own frustrations, long-buried, rising to the surface. 

Krauser didn’t even look surprised, but Leon saw your eyes narrow as you looked over at him, listening now intently. 

“Before you run your mouth more,” Krauser said, his tone grave. He reached for the little radio that sat on the desk and turned it on, the volume low. Bon Jovi.

You’d been right about Krauser and his music. 

The music was to drown out the discussion. So no one outside the office would hear. “What you say will not leave this room. Because, if it did, you would be in a world of hurt.” 

Leon knew what he meant. He’d been told not to speak of many things that happened in Raccoon City. He’d broken those rules for you, to share the common pain that the two of you had gone through. 

Leon didn’t like Krauser, but he respected him for the most part. The Major was training them to survive against what you and Leon had seen. His job was to make sure that the bioweapons and the people who made them were brought down and buried. And he hadn’t been given all the information he needed to succeed in that task. Leon knew why. So, regardless of how he felt about the man sitting across from him, he would do what he could to give him a full picture. 

“So . . .” Krauser leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk in front of him. “Mind telling me just how our government was involved with that shitshow?” 

Leon looked at the Major. Then over to you. Your expression . . . he’d told you this part of his story. But that didn’t seem like it was going to make it easier for you to hear again now. 

 “There was a doctor at Umbrella. Birkin. The one who created the virus that broke out. He was in contact with the Army. They wanted the virus. To use it as a weapon. Umbrella sent people to kill him to stop it, and that’s what caused the outbreak.”

And Leon knew what no one else should have. He knew what had gotten that man killed. He knew the bioweapons that the government had been trying to get ahold of. 

That was why he was here. That was the knowledge that he had unknowingly traded for his autonomy. Knowledge he hadn’t even wanted. 

And now Krauser had that knowledge, too. It was dangerous giving it to him, but he'd done it anyway.

Leon briefly considered that this might be a test too. Maybe Krauser wanted to see if Leon was willing to break his oath of silence so easily. 

The way the Major sat forward in his chair, his brow creased in contemplation, though, told Leon otherwise. “Son of a bitch,” the older man eventually said, shaking his head. “Figured it would be something like that.” He sounded vaguely, darkly amused. “Must’ve had their interest piqued by what happened in Finland.” Krauser looked over at you, and Leon saw you nod. Your eyes were dark, your muscles stiff. 

Leon had thought about the timeline of it all before. You had fought BOW’s over a year ago. Raccoon City was only a few months in the past, now. 

You’d given your report of an entire base wiped out by monsters. How could the government not be interested in whatever could accomplish that? 

“If they’d been there-” your voice was harsh and cold steel, “-then they’d know better than to want to fuck around with that shit.” They were the words of someone who knew all too well what damage could be done when the laws of nature were cast aside. The same way Leon spoke of the monsters he’d fought. 

Krauser, though, didn’t seem fazed by your declaration. “Uncle Sam has never been shy about using whatever weapons are available,” he said, and Leon wanted to protest alongside you. The Major went on before he could get a chance. “But if we know how those weapons work, we have a better chance of fighting them. I can teach you how to take down people. But unless I know what else I’m sending you out against, none of this training is going to mean a goddamn thing.” It sounded like Krauser had spoken those words before. Like he had practice with that sentiment. And Leon found himself agreeing with the man, even if it would mean him thinking about the things that had nearly killed him. The monsters that he’d seen crush bones and tear bodies in two. He would relive it all if it meant sparing someone else from that fate. If it meant sparing you from it. 

“If the government won’t give me the full picture,” Krauser went on, “then you two have to. So, assume I know nothing, and tell me everything you can remember.” 

Leon looked at you first, meeting your eyes. You didn’t want to talk about it, he could see it. Neither did he. He didn’t want to think about the terrors that haunted his nights. 

But he would. 

And by the look in your eye, resolute and righteously angry, Leon could tell that you were willing to do the same. 

Besides - and Leon could scarcely believe he was thinking this way - better Krauser want to talk about monsters than the night you and Leon had shared together. What a strange world the two of you had found yourselves in. 

“Okay,” you said first, looking back at Krauser. And then you began. 

⧫⧫⧫

“It spread through bites,” you said, and you tried to think of it like a mission debrief. That was how you’d gotten through it the first time. Clinically. Facts and nothing more than facts. Krauser wasn’t asking you for the finer details of who you were with, or how the night had progressed. He wasn’t asking you to tell him every second of your pain, or to relive those moments that came to you at night. He was asking for tactical advice, and you could give him that. 

He was asking for advice, and you and Leon had gotten lucky. So unbelievably, incredibly lucky. Even if it brought back unpleasant memories, you would gladly tell the Major everything you knew about the monsters you faced. 

But thinking of those things . . . 

“Bites or scratches, even.” 

Krauser didn’t say anything yet, and Leon nodded his head in agreement, solemn and silent. 

“It affected some people faster than others. Minutes or hours, but then after that . . .” 

Eyes that had been wise and warm were now empty, his skin paled by death. His fatigues were covered in blood, and his mouth hung open in a silent scream.

Krauser had questions to distract you from those memories. “How did they move? Were they stronger than people?” 

And you answered. Every question the Major had, you answered. You told him how the bodies that had once been your comrades had shambled, moving like mindless drones towards some base goal. You told him that shots to the chest did nothing to slow them. That even once you blasted out knees and crippled legs, the bodies still moved, clawing their way across the floor towards their prey. You told him that calling them animals was too generous. That their mindlessness was only superseded by their hunger. That the most dangerous thing about them wasn't their teeth or their sudden bursts of energy when blood was close, but the fact that they wore the faces of people. People one might have been friends with. Cared for. Loved. 

And hesitation would get you killed.

The Major listened, and you could see some sympathy in his eyes. The same look he'd given you when he found you out that morning in the snow. When he met you in the hospital to take you to your debriefing. But he also had a job to do, just as he did then. 

"So," he began, "we're dealing with things that only go down with headshots or complete dismemberment." He sounded like he was planning already. Making strategies. Creating training exercises to simulate what you'd described. "That sound in line with what you saw in Raccoon City, Kennedy?" The two of you turned to Leon, and you were always floored that he could look at you with such care. 

His eyes, so soft and blue, were fixed on you, full of sympathy. Empathy. 

But then, as Krauser asked him that question, his gaze hardened. It was like you could see those rotting, broken hands reaching for him, pulling him back in time. "That was most of it, but there . . ." he glanced back at you, then at the ground. "Umbrella made more than just zombies." 

And, as he spoke, you realized that Leon hadn't told you much of what he'd faced. He'd told you about the outbreak. About people turning. 

"Did you fight anything other than them? The zombies?" He'd asked you that one day, in those weeks before his assessment. 

"Yeah," you'd answered, thinking of the gas mask with red lenses. You hadn't been ready to speak to him about that man. You still weren't. So, when he asked his next question, your answer had been simple.

"Like what?" 

"Pass."

And then you'd wondered about his own time in Raccoon City. 

"Did you?" 

"Yeah." 

"Like what?"

"Pass."

Now, as you listened to him talk, you realized just how much he hadn't told you. And you couldn't blame him. You couldn't blame him for not wanting to think of the things he described. The dogs that had been infected. The skinless, sightless monsters with claws like knives and exposed brains. The giant alligator that had mutated in the sewers. The plants with teeth and arms and legs, that only fire could kill. 

The pale, tall man - if it could be called that - that had pursued Leon through it all. That Leon had faced down, unable to kill it with anything short of a rocket launcher. 

A goddamn rocket launcher. 

And that wasn't even the worst of it. Your skin crawled as he told Krauser of what became of Birkin. How he'd sprouted extra arms and eyes and his flesh had spilled out past itself. How, in the end, he'd been little more than a rolling mass of skin and eyes and muscle and warped bones. 

And as Leon described what he'd seen, you could only sit back and listen in horror, wondering how he was still sane. How he had survived. 

And then you felt the urge to take him in your arms and hold him close, because no one should have to have seen what he had seen. 

But you couldn't. You couldn't hold him, or tell him that it was going to be alright. You could only look at him and try to be there for him in some small way. You could listen to his words and learn how to fight these monsters. How to kill them. So he would never have to face them alone again. Even if it seemed an impossible task. 

Krauser was doing the same - his fingers laced together in front of his mouth, his brow heavy set over his eyes. 

Once Leon was done, once he had run through all of the horrors he had seen that night - all of that in one night - there was a long moment of silence. Then, finally, Krauser huffed. Nodded. "Alright. This conversation didn't happen. You're both dismissed."

That was it. 

There was nothing more.

At the beginning of this, when he'd first asked you both about what you faced, you had thought you had been lucky. Now, you had been reminded that nothing about the two of you was lucky. The world had cursed you with something terrible, and it had done even worse to Leon. 

And now the two of you had to live in a world where you knew such horrors were real. 

So, the two of you stood, sparing each other a glance before you began to head towards the door. 

"Get yourselves some dinner," Krauser said, stopping you both just before you could leave. "Tell the boys in the mess hall I sent you." 

Major Krauser didn't seem the kind to say thank you in the traditional way, but you liked to imagine this was his alternative. Even if that were the case, though, you still felt utterly drained as you led Leon out of the office, the door closing and muffling the rock music Krauser had put on inside. 

You and Leon stood just outside the door, then, sitting in silence borne of too much to be said. 

Then, after a moment, Leon looked over at you, his expression unreadable. "So, are you hungry?" 

Your answer was simple. "Nope." 

He almost smiled, shaking his head. "Me neither." 

But you both made your way towards the mess hall anyway. And there the two of you sat in relative silence, the rest of your fellow cadets long since gone. Side by side with food that you should eat in front of you. You let your leg touch Leon's, waiting to see if he wanted to talk about everything you both had just unveiled. 

Trying to decide if you yourself wanted to talk about it. 

 "You okay?" You looked over at him, taking your eyes off the untouched food in front of you. 

Leon grimaced, but tried to give you a smile anyway. "Well, we're not dead or discharged," he grinned, still a terrible liar, "so I guess I'm alright." 

You had almost forgotten all about your fears of Krauser knowing about the two of you. 

"Low bar." 

Leon chuckled, not quite with his full chest. "Yeah, well, I'll take what I can get." 

You wished you had his strength. You wished you could make light of what you'd just heard. As it was, all you could think of was Leon having to face down horrors you'd never even imagined. You thought that you'd seen the worst of the world, but now you knew that even your painstakingly won wisdom would not prepare you for what was out there. For what Leon had already survived.  

There were more monsters than you were prepared for. 

Your instructor wasn't being given important information.

Even if she hadn't told Krauser, Valeria knew about you and Leon. 

"We're fucked, aren't we?" You looked over at him, your expression full of resignation.

Everything seemed impossible now. This fight you were training for, the relationship that you and Leon had just begun to explore . . . it felt like the whole world was set against you. 

But Leon still found it in himself to smile. To shake his head. "Maybe," he said, and you felt his hand on your thigh beneath the table. "But . . . we made it this far, right?" 

It made you laugh, even if it was a dry and humorless thing. "That luck can't last forever." 

"No luck then," Leon insisted, and you could almost believe him when he spoke with that much conviction. "We'll be careful. We'll train. We'll find a way." 

He was looking at you with such intensity, and you couldn't tell if it was certainty or desperation. Either way, despite your worries, you found yourself smiling a little. You wanted to kiss him, but even alone in the mess hall, you wouldn't take that risk. Not now. So, you settled for a little smile. 

You knew how this ended. It wouldn't be happy.

But the world could wait a while before it took that happiness from either of you. There may be more monsters, more horrors, but now, for the first time in months, you had something worth fighting for other than vengeance. 

And he was smiling at you, even if he had every reason not to be. 

"Think you might be too optimistic there, Kennedy."

"One of us has to be." 

Us.

It didn't matter if Valeria knew. It didn't matter what monsters Umbrella threw at you. You would burn the world for this man. 

And of all the realizations that day, that was the most staggering.

Chapter Text

The two of you left the mess hall that evening with a few new understandings. The first was that you would have to be more careful, just as Leon said. 

"The smart thing to do would be to stop," you pointed out, your voice hushed so none of the mess hall staff could overhear. 

"And what about the slightly stupid thing to do?" Leon asked, and you wanted to kiss that goofy smile off his face. 

"We train with Alenko and Williams regularly. Keep some suspicion off of us. Keep everything as quick as possible.” 

Leon had agreed to that part easily enough. You both agreed that you couldn’t meet as often as you’d like. That any moment stolen had to be just that - a moment. Neither of you were happy about it, but that was the hand you’d been dealt. “Feels like we’re teenagers trying not to get caught,” he said eventually, and you couldn’t help but agree. 

“Yeah, except we’ve already been caught.” 

And that led to the second understanding. Valeria. 

“She’s always looking for an edge,” you said, and Leon knew it well enough. You’d seen what she’d done during his assessment. How she’d been teasing him since he joined your squad. She wasn’t the type to let something go unused or unexploited. 

“So she’d, what, hold it over us until she finds something we have that she wants?” 

“Probably,” you shrugged. 

“All the more reason to talk to her about it.” 

You hated the idea, but you knew that Leon was right. 

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” you resolved. “Ask her to spar. Do it then.” 

Leon nodded, frowning a little and you knew it was because it would mean another night when the two of you wouldn’t be alone. But that was the way it had to be. You both knew it, even if neither of you liked it. You had both gotten used to hard truths. 

“That’ll be a fun conversation,” Leon huffed.

“No worse than the one we just had with Krauser.” 

Then the energy of the room had shifted, making it feel as empty as it was. Leon nodded, and you saw him disappear into his thoughts.

There was a long silence, then. 

You decided to be the one to break it, because as much as you wanted to talk about when you and Leon could next steal a moment together, that conversation with Krauser - the revelations it had provided - took up a great amount of space in your mind.

“I . . .” how could you say this the right way? “I can see why you didn’t want to talk about it. What happened in Raccoon City.” It was the best you could do in the moment, the best way you could think of to begin the conversation. “I’m . . .” fuck, how could you say this? 

In the end, after a moment’s hesitation, you settled with the one thing you had yet to say to him. The one thing you had avoided, because you didn’t want him to think you pitied him. Because you had heard so many people say this to you, and you’d hated them for it. 

But now, because it was him and it was coming from you, you only hoped that he would understand the words better than you had. 

“I’m sorry you had to face all of that.” You forced yourself to look him in the eyes, needing him to see you. Needing him to understand what you meant. “And I’m sorry you had to relive it now.” 

Leon just stared at you for a moment, his eyes searching yours, and you worried he would react poorly to the words, just as you had. 

But then, Leon wasn’t you. And thank god for that. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and you felt him gently squeeze your thigh under the table. Only a second later, something in his gaze shifted. “But you don’t have anything to be sorry for. It’s Umbrella that does.” And there, sparking just beneath the surface, was a fire you’d come to know all too well from Leon. A strength and a sense of justice that was something out of a storybook. 

You knew he was going to be a dangerous enemy for Umbrella to have. 

But then, so were you. You couldn’t say for sure what exactly Umbrella had taken from Leon. His chance at a normal life, yes. The life of a woman who’d betrayed him, true, but what else, you couldn’t say. Whatever it was, you knew in your heart that justice was the reason he wanted to face them down. 

And you wanted justice too, you supposed. 

But you wanted something more. Because Umbrella was responsible for the virus that had killed your friends. Your brothers in arms. Your mentor. The man you considered a father. They had taken everything from you.

So yes, you wanted justice for them. For the fallen. 

But more than that, you wanted revenge. For your friends. For Leon. 

For you. 

“Then we’ll bring them down,” you said, and Leon looked over at you with wide eyes. “We’ll make them pay. Burn them to the ground.” 

His eyes shifted, and suddenly you weren’t staring at some fresh-faced rookie with tired eyes and the weight of the world on his shoulders. You were looking at a soldier. One with a mission, that he was going to see through, one way or another. “You’re damn right we will,” he nodded. 

That murmured promise of justice and vengeance . . . that was your third understanding of the night. 

And to deliver on that promise, the two of you would have to be ready. 

⧫⧫⧫

Krauser was different the next day. Still pissed, you could tell, and still pushing you all to the limit, but he did so with his usual insults. Those little barbed comments that were meant to spur you all onward. 

You never thought you’d be grateful to hear them again, but it marked what you hoped would be a return to equilibrium. And you knew it was because he had direction, now. He knew what to train you and the rest to be able to face - or at least had an idea of it. So, you were hardly surprised when the more rigorous training kept up. More than that, you readily embraced it, now knowing what Leon had faced. You pushed hard, trying to imagine the horrors he’d described. Trying to push yourself, that you might be able to take such horrors down. 

And you watched your squad struggle, hoping they would be able to do the same. It made you realize your obligation to help those who didn’t know what they were going to be fighting out there. 

People like the pair who’d asked you and Leon for help, even before your conversation with Krauser. 

Williams and Alenko were forgiving of the fact that you hadn’t been able to spar with them. Forgiving, but all too curious about why Major Krauser had pulled the two of you out of drills like he was going to read you the riot act. Luckily, you and Leon had discussed what it was you were going to tell them. 

“He wants us leading off-hours sparring practice,” you said, and the lie came easily. Krauser had been pushing you all harder, and Williams and Alenko already wanted to practice with you anyway. And, as Leon pointed out, your actual conversation with Krauser “never happened” so the Major wouldn’t correct your lie, even if he found out.

The two newly added members of your squad didn’t need much convincing. After all, Krauser had been asking you to assist with his training for months now. 

And as for Leon . . . well, it was no secret that the two of you were sparring partners. 

It was your actual secret that needed addressing. 

And Valeria was all too happy to agree when you asked her to spar with you the next day after drills. 

“Oh?” She’d raised a brow. “You guys looking for a third?” 

The comment didn’t shake your expression, because you already looked pissed off enough as it was. 

“Just you and me.” Was your answer. And then Valeria smiled, because she knew why you were asking.

“Fine. But no knives. Hand to hand. Unless you think you need to hide behind steel to win.” 

Your eyes narrowed, and your response came out faster than you intended, hissed in frustration. “Better than hiding behind words.” 

Valeria’s eyes widened, and you worried that you’d said something to piss her off. That she would turn and head to the Major’s office to rat you and Leon out because of spite. Instead, the dark-eyed soldier smiled like she’d won something. “Been wondering if you had any good lines in you.” 

And so that night, as Leon headed off to the firing range with Williams and Alenko in tow, you and Valeria took up ready stances in the training yard. Krauser was listening to music again, and heavy guitar sounded through the open windows. 

So, you set up as far away from the barracks as you could, because you didn’t trust the music to be enough to drown out the conversation. And, to your credit, you really, honestly intended it to be a somewhat civil conversation. 

You were about to begin, but Valeria beat you to the punch. Literally. 

“So. Is this gonna be about what I saw the other night?” 

You barely opened your mouth to answer before her fist came at your face and you only barely managed to duck out of the way, and then you were straightening, stepping back as she advanced. She would go for a face hit right off the bat. She had never been shy about headshots, and Krauser had stopped reprimanding her for it early on. It’ll teach you all to duck, he’d said. 

And you’d learned well. 

You struck out at her stomach as you dodged, lightning fast and laser focused. 

If it were one of Leon’s old squad, you would have landed the hit easily. But this was Valeria. She could trade blows with the best of your squad . . . and she fought dirtier than most. Her hand batted the strike away, and she twisted as she delivered a painful kick to your stomach. 

You grunted as you were forced away, and Valeria didn’t follow, still wearing that damn smirk. The frustration you felt was almost enough to make you forget the question she’d asked. 

Almost. “Yes,” you hissed, raising your guard. “It’s about that.” 

The distant song ended, and then there were little bursts of new music as Krauser switched through the stations. 

You could hear different songs chopped together, only adding to the discordant energy in the air around you. 

“Hit me with your-”

“-keep it down now, voices carry-”

“You two really should be more careful,” Valeria grinned, her voice soft. Like she didn’t want anyone else to hear, either. “Be a shame if the Major found out.” 

It was your turn to swing at her. A quick one-two, a feint high then low. You caught her in the ribs, striking harder than you should have. Maybe you weren’t helping your chances in doing so, but you didn’t much care. 

“Good thing,” you hissed from clenched teeth as Valeria traded you blows, “he’s not going to.” 

Valeria snorted. You went for a punch. She moved to the side. Left your arm extended for too long. Then her hand was moving, one holding your arm in place, the other swooping up from under. You moved a second too late. 

Pain bloomed, then, and you reeled back, clutching at the blood now spilling from your nose. 

Your vision blurred a bit after the hit. Valeria stepped back on her left leg, her guard up again, dark eyes glinting. “Who’s to say he doesn’t already know?” 

Something pulsed through you, then. Heavy and hot. It settled in your chest, filling you with fire. 

You knew she wanted you to come at her, then. She loved setting traps like that. Loved provoking people into attacking her however she could. 

It was great when it worked. 

The trouble was, now she’d done more than just provoke you because you aren’t just sparring anymore. 

She knew her mistake as you swung a now bloodied fist at her with all your might. Her snickering dies as she desperately gets out of the way, but you don’t give her the chance to counter. You were coming after her in a rage, blood flying from your nose as you moved. Hit after hit you laid on her and you could see her becoming smaller and smaller as she shrunk away from you, looking for an opening. 

But her fear made her sloppy, and you landed a push kick square against her chest, sending her back. 

She didn’t go all the way down, though. 

She ran at you, aiming a kick of her own at your side. Your leg came up too, blocking it, just as your fist swung at her head, because you were pissed and hurt and if she’s fighting like that, then so were you. She was lucky she could raise a block in time. There was an attempt at a counter, but you were too fast, so she had to adjust to block again. Your third punch missed altogether as she stepped to the side. 

You almost got clipped in the head as she brought her arm around, but you wove beneath it. Raising your own arm . . . 

And then your forearm crashed hard across her cheek. Almost your elbow, but there was still a shred of restraint left in you.  

She backed away, staggered, and it was all the time and space you needed. 

You turned over your left shoulder, gaining the momentum you needed. Your leg came up, then the other. And then you were spinning through the air, the other leg extended as you jumped. 

The kick connected with Valeria’s shoulder. Hard. She cried out, but that cry was jumbled as she went spilling onto the ground, dirt rising and falling around her. 

And then you were on top of her, pinning her there, eyes full of fury. 

“Did you tell him?” You demanded, your voice little more than a hiss. 

Valeria looked up at you, her head still reeling, dark eyes unfocused. “Damn,” she groaned, baring her teeth as she clutches at her shoulder. “Okay, pretty boy is a sensitive topic, I get it-” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

She huffed, shook her head. “No. I didn’t tell him, damn.” 

You almost let the tension you’d been holding release. Almost. Still, even if she hadn’t told the Major, she still held that knowledge. She still posed a danger. 

As if she could see those thoughts written across your face, Valeria just snickered from underneath you. “Look, I’m gonna give you both shit for it, but I’m not gonna go telling people about you and the rookie.” She surprised you with how genuine she sounded. Maybe more so than you’d ever heard from her. “Don’t think I ever actually saw you smile until he came around. You’ve been actually tolerable lately, so I’m not gonna be on the lookout to end that. Besides,” she grinned then, because it seemed she couldn’t be too courteous for too long, “if the Major finds out, then there goes my entertainment. Because you two are fucking hilarious to watch.” 

“I don’t buy it,” you shook your head, still keeping her pinned. Not trusting her. “I don’t buy you being willing to let this go that easily.” 

Again, Valeria snickered, and that smirk was back. “Who said I was?” And there it was. The negotiation you’d been prepared for. “I keep your secret, and some day, you two can do something for me.” 

“This isn’t a game, Valeria.” 

“No?” She raised a brow. “Then you and Leon better get serious. Cause if I saw you, then it’s only a matter of time before someone else does. Might help you to have someone in your corner.” 

She was right. You and Leon had discussed that much at length, after all. In a perfect world, she wouldn’t know, and that would be that. But in this world, you supposed it was better to have her support than her animosity. So fine, then. 

“What do you want, then?” you asked, because that was the position you found yourself in. 

And Valeria, even though she had lost the fight, knew she’d just won something. “I want in on sparring with you. Other than that . . . I’ll let you know when I have something in mind. And in the meantime, you and pretty boy just carry on as you were.” 

It was going to remain hanging over your heads, then. “Fine.” 

With a final sigh, more of your blood dripping onto the dirt by her head, you stood. You almost didn’t offer her a hand up, but in the end, you reached your unbloodied one towards her anyway. 

She let you help her up, looking at you for a moment longer. “Glad we could have this little talk,” she said, rolling the shoulder you’d hit and brushing dirt off her fatigues. “Just have one more question for you.” 

“And what’s that?” you asked, raising a hand to your bleeding nose, your tone betraying how much you wanted to be done. 

Valeria’s dark eyes got just a little bit darker as she smiled. “Is he any good?” Again, you found some anger spiking through you. “I mean, he looks so sweet, but I bet-”

“Too bad you’ll never know,” you shot at her, and she laughed. 

“Touchy, touchy, alright then.” She started to walk past you, with too much swagger for a woman who just had her ass handed to her. “You’re no fun.” 

And with that, apparently done for the night in the training yard, you spat some blood into the dirt and made your way to the firing range. 

⧫⧫⧫

Leon didn’t realize you’d joined him, Williams, and Alenko until you were stepping up beside him, checking the pistol in your hands and getting ready to fit some headphones over your ears. 

But as soon as he saw you, he saw the blood on your shirt, and what still dripped a little from your nose. He knew then just what kind of conversation you and Valeria had had. 

“Jesus,” he breathed, taking his own headphones off and setting his gun down. “Are you okay?” 

You looked at him with a shrug, just like he expected from you. “It's not so bad,” you said, and Leon just stared at you for a moment, bewildered. But then he so often was bewildered by you. “And honestly?” You slid your pistol’s magazine into place, then met Leon’s eyes. And only you could make a bloody nose look so beautiful. “Could have gone worse, I guess.” 

He supposed, even if it had left you bloody, that was a silver lining. 

Leon laughed once, just taking you in, then shook his head. “Never took you for an optimist.” 

“Oh, I’m just brimming with positivity, Kennedy,” you deadpanned back, then wiped the blood from under your nose and slid the headphones on. 

He chuckled again, then mirrored your actions, feeling a little weight come off his shoulders.

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, Leon could see the knowledge that you and he gave to Krauser being put to use. There was more running. More hand to hand. He paired people up in groups of four for sparring. One versus three. Whoever was the lone combatant finished the day with fresh bruises, and by the end of the week, everyone was painted with blues, greens, and purples. The Major had the squad spend many long hours at the shooting range, where he would accept nothing less than perfectly emptying the magazine of a gun into the designated target. 

No matter how far down range Krauser set them up, no matter if they were moving or not, that target was always the head.

“The things you’re going to be facing won’t go down from anything less. And some of them . . . not even then,” Krauser had said, and Leon saw the news unsettle the squad standing at attention around him.

But he didn’t go into detail describing what everyone would be up against. Instead, he just told the squad how you would be in for difficult fights. How you would all have to use whatever was at your disposal.

Pistols, rifles, shotguns . . . 

Krauser didn’t seem to care about running up a munitions tab, because if anyone missed a shot, then he would make them start over with another mag, once theirs ran out. He would keep them after hours, if they couldn’t do it. Some of them even found themselves putting in overtime, staying at the range when they should have been getting lunch. 

You and Leon were almost always putting in overtime. 

Not because you were terrible shots. Far from it. But because, once Leon figured out that Krauser didn’t care about how much ammunition was being lost, he would miss on purpose. One or two shots every mag, Leon would intentionally aim just a little far off. Just enough that Krauser made him stay. Sometimes he would miss naturally, of course, but a lot of the time, he remained at the range of his own accord. Because the more practice he got, the better. The more prepared he was, the better. 

And you . . . well, you’d seen him shoot. It didn’t take you long to figure out that he was throwing on purpose, but when Krauser handed him another mag, both you and the Major shared a look of suspicion. 

Only you received the little grin Leon gave you after, though. 

And just like that, you were miraculously missing shots, too. Not enough to stick out, necessarily, but enough to give you both a few extra minutes of practice. Then one of you would get your perfect round, and the other would delay a few minutes longer and do the same. 

If Krauser suspected anything - which Leon imagined he did - he said nothing to stop it. Just his usual disappointed jabs, and then he would send you and Leon off to a late lunch when you two decided you had enough.

You would meet up back at lunch later, sitting with Williams and Alenko, who you started training with during off hours as well. And when Valeria joined the group, for training and lunch both, Leon was hardly surprised. You’d told him about the deal you’d struck, and how she’d bloodied your nose in your sparring match, but you’d kicked her ass in the end. 

He wished he could have seen that victory, but when Valeria trained with you all, he got a close enough approximation. 

What did surprise Leon about Valeria was that, for the most part, she was restrained enough when it came to poking fun at his relationship with you. He’d expected every other word out of her mouth to tie to some innuendo or implication. And those remarks certainly came, but mostly she was focused on practicing. On fighting. 

As for Williams . . . the tall woman seemed pretty keen to focus on other things. Namely, Valeria. 

Leon smiled when he first noticed it. Wondered if that was how he’d looked in those early days when he watched you fight. 

Hell, he probably still looked that way, he knew. 

But then, even you looked at him with that longing expression sometimes. He caught you when you thought he wasn’t looking, every so often. 

Amidst all the pains of training, all the nightmares and worries, it felt good to be wanted. To be valued and cared for by someone. Even if it was just in little heartbeats of stolen affection. Even if he wished things could be different, sometimes. 

But for what this life was, it wasn’t so bad when the two of you were together. 

Even if those moments were few and far between, in an effort to keep this going. And in those next few days, Leon had precious few moments where the two of you could really be what you wanted to be for each other. He stole kisses from you every so often, always in the evening when no one was looking. He would nip at your neck and press against you for just a moment. Sometimes you would pull him into the shadows and do the same. But there was nothing more. Not yet. Leon knew it was because, frankly, the two of you were still spooked by the whole ordeal with Valeria and Krauser. True to the agreement the two of you had made, you were trying to be cautious. 

And besides, as much as he wanted you, the conversation with Krauser had reminded him well enough of the stakes of the fight you were all preparing for. And more than he wanted you in those brief moments of bliss, he wanted you safe. 

Leon would train hard for that fight. 

He pushed himself to the limit, thinking of racing through the streets of Raccoon City as he ran the base, or went through the obstacle course. Imagining that each shot he missed was an opportunity for the undead to tear into him. Or someone he was protecting. Each rep of weight training that he pushed through, he thought of needing to be strong enough to face down the inhuman monsters waiting for them. He pushed himself just as you did, and Krauser pushed hardest of all. 

Leon couldn’t say he liked much about the Major, but it was good to see that he was actually, genuinely trying to prepare you all. That you and Leon having to relive part of the worst nights of your lives wasn’t for nothing. 

But still, the Major didn’t tell the rest what they would be facing. Not exactly. There was no debrief where he went into detail about the monsters that Umbrella had made. No preparing the others for skinless horrors, or too-big men that seemed to never die.

Just more training.

And Krauser wasn't stopping at marksmanship and close quarters combat. He taught you all how to choose targets in a group. Covering retreats, moving in to help a wounded comrade. A week in, a truck arrived, and the squad worked together unloading and cataloging it all. It held guns. Sniper rifles, grenade launchers . . . all heavier ordinance than what you’d all been training with so far. There were even some bows, all made of carbon fiber and with mechanical arms. 

“If you can learn to aim a bow, aiming a gun will be no problem,” Krauser said on their first day working with the bows, and then had far too much fun watching you all struggle with the new weapon. 

Not that arrows would be better against the undead than bullets, but Leon knew it wasn’t just about learning how to shoot a bow. It was prep work for the sniper rifles that went untouched, getting them all used to the concept of measuring distance and factoring in wind, gravity, and movement. And suddenly, you and Leon didn’t have to fake missing to spend longer on the range anymore. 

Leon was all too grateful now for pushing himself when it came to strength training, because pulling back that bowstring over and over, knowing he was going to miss and need to start over again, was making his arms shake. On that first day, the entire squad was held up, and you were all sent to the mess hall with only fifteen minutes left of lunch. And by the time they got there, after hours of drawing back a sixty-pound bowstring, in addition to all the heavy-lifting everyone was already doing, most everyone could only barely carry their trays to the tables. 

It made the close quarters combat drills later in the day particularly interesting. Or sad, Leon supposed, because no one put up a good fight. 

But you and Leon, as ever, met after dinner in the training yard. 

Williams and Alenko accompanied you, and Valeria made it clear that she wasn’t going to participate in the sparring, but she was going to watch. And she got a kick out of the sluggish attacks and redirects that you all put on display, each of you too exhausted to fight at the speed you normally would. But you were all still fighting. Williams and Alenko might not have known the extent of the bioweapons under Umbrella’s control - if they knew anything beyond vague concepts at all - but they were training hard. 

And it made Leon ponder something - something he brought up to you when the two of you found a moment alone.   

“How much do you think they know?” he asked when you were out of earshot of the buildings and the guard posts, looking over at you. “About the bioweapons, Umbrella . . . all of it.” 

“I don’t know. Probably not as much as they should.” You answered quickly. Like you’d been thinking about it, too. All the intel the two of you had given Krauser, all the specifics, and he still hadn’t told anyone at large. He’d adjusted his training structure, true, but he hadn’t sat the squad down to tell them exactly what they might be up against. 

And it was weighing on Leon, because he didn’t see how the government could train people to take down Umbrella if they didn’t show those people what they were up against. 

“Do you think Krauser’s gonna tell them?” he asked, looking over at you, seeing you deep in thought. 

“He knows more than the government wants him to,” you say after a moment. “If he tells everyone on base, they’ll go for him. For us, too.” It made sense. The Major knew things he shouldn’t have, and there were only two places on base he could have gotten that information from. Two people. 

But still . . . “Does that matter?” Leon asked, his brows cinching together, his gaze fixed on you through the darkness. “So what if they get mad at him, or at us? If they’re gonna throw us at these things, the people we’re fighting with deserve to know what they’re facing.” 

You frowned, your eyes trailing off somewhere. You stopped walking, shaking your head. “He’s not gonna let us go blind. He’ll tell them.” 

“Then why hasn’t he already? It’s been a week. The longer he waits, the less prepared everyone is.” He could feel himself getting heated, his frustration with Krauser, but here it was, bleeding into this interaction with you. 

And you met it with frustration of your own. “He’s got to have reasons. He’s got reasons for everything he does-” 

“Like putting edged knives in our hands and making us think we’re going to fight with them?” He wasn’t quite sure where the words came from. One minute he was thinking of the need to prepare his fellow recruits for what’s out there, and the next, all he could do was remember the cruelty of that lesson. The way the Major had intentionally faced you against something that had traumatized you - even if Leon knew you would loathe that description of what had happened to you. 

“We’re not going to be using training knives out in the field-” 

“But he didn’t have to do that. It was fucked-”

“Leon, all of the shit we’re going to be fighting out there is fucked-”

“I know that!” Leon hissed, shaking his head. “And if he can make us think we’re going to make each other bleed for a training exercise, then he can fucking tell them what they’re up against.” 

The longer-lasting light of spring let Leon see the way your eyes flashed, but whatever reply you were going to give was swallowed down after a moment, and you looked away. Like you were sorting out your thoughts, and Leon knew it was because you agreed with him - but you also trusted Krauser. That was what made you repeat yourself when you looked back up at him a few seconds later. “You’re right,” you nodded, saying it through tight lips. “But he wouldn’t have asked us for all of that info if he didn’t plan on relaying it. He’ll tell them.”

But Leon wasn’t convinced. Not entirely. “You put a lot of faith in him.” 

You pursed your lips, and for the first time, Leon thought he saw some give. Like you were more conflicted about Krauser’s actions than you let on. Even so, there was conviction there, too. “He saved my life, once,” you said eventually, your voice quiet. 

And Leon, after a moment, nodded. “The night in Finland. I know.” He supposed it was time to come clean about that. 

A look of surprise pinched your brows together and your eyes widened a touch. “I didn’t tell you that,” you said, and then your expression changed, because you realized who had told Leon. 

“Krauser did,” Leon admitted. 

You stared at him for a moment, and Leon worried that you might have been angry. Not necessarily at him, but at the Major. Even if he thought Krauser was an asshole, even if Leon disagreed with half of his methods, he didn’t want to compromise a trust you’d built. 

But then you forced out a breath of a laugh, rolling your eyes. “See? Guess you don’t have to worry about Krauser keeping information to himself.” 

Leon cracked a smile then, shifting his weight onto one leg, feeling tension he didn’t know he’d been carrying fade. “Maybe not.” 

“What the hell made him tell you that?” you asked, threading your thumbs in the belt loops of your fatigue pants, looking at him in confusion. 

Leon wasn’t quite sure how to explain that he’d had that conversation with the Major after that first kiss. When you’d asked for space and Leon had dealt with it by throwing himself head-first into training. Let alone that Krauser had, in essence, told Leon that you and he needed to get each other off your asses and deal with the shit that had been haunting you. “He told me that you and I had a lot in common,” Leon eventually settled on that explanation. “That we both needed to get past what happened and focus on the here and now.” 

That incredulous look on your face only grew, then, but it was soon replaced by amusement. “Funny. He’s said something similar to me.” 

Leon smiled a little, then. “Easier said than done, I guess.” 

“Easier said than done,” you agreed, looking down for a moment before going on. “Hard to focus on the present when you’re training to fight the things that keep you awake at night, I guess.” 

The air between the two of you grew heavy, as it always did when your past or his came up. And it was easier to bear its weight when there were two of you. But Leon could tell that something still troubled you. He didn’t have to wait long to learn what it was. 

“How much did Krauser tell you? About the base?” 

Then, Leon felt his throat constrict, remembering the few details that Krauser had given him about Finland and about the base you’d been stationed at. “Not much. Just that it was burned down. And that . . .” he didn’t want to say it aloud, but whether it went unspoken or not wouldn’t change the fact of the matter. “And that you were the only survivor.” He wasn’t sure what his expression might be conveying, then. Only that he watched you for your reaction carefully, never taking his eyes off you. 

And he wanted to reach for you when he saw the pain in your eyes. 

You nodded; your jaw set tight as it so often was when you were upset. But when you blinked, Leon could see resolve there, not just pain. “And we weren’t even up against all the shit you saw,” you murmured, shaking your head. “I don’t want that to happen again.” You stepped closer to Leon but looked back at the base. Towards where the barracks were. “I do believe that Krauser’s going to tell them what they’re up against, but if you’re worried, then talk to him. And if for some reason, he’s not planning on telling them . . .”

“Then we will,” Leon nodded. You didn’t argue. 

You did offer him a small smile, though, as the two of you continued your walk. “We’re on a fast-track to getting court-martialed, you and me.” 

Leon chuckled. “Didn’t peg you for being such a troublemaker.” 

“You should have seen me when I first enlisted. I was a pain in the ass.” 

“But you still made Sergeant.” He looked over at you, his hair brushing against his eyelashes on the one side. He didn’t bother hiding the pride in his gaze, even if it maybe wasn’t his pride to give. 

It made you smile, and that was all that mattered. 

“I was lucky my Captain was forgiving of my bullshit,” you shrugged, a fond smile curling your lips. And then, that smile turned to something else. Something distant. Mournful. 

“He sounds like a good man.” 

“He was.”

Leon knew then that your Captain had been among the dead in Finland. That he was one of your ghosts. 

And then he remembered that third dog tag around your neck. The one he’d glimpsed in those early days. And he wondered what name it was, stamped in the metal. He wondered which of your ghost's names you wore in silver. 

“I’ll tell you about him, some day.” Your words were almost wistful. A promise that he didn’t need you to make, but one he valued anyway. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Leon nodded. 

It was a risk, you both knew it, but you took his hand for a moment as you walked back to the barracks, squeezing tight. 

Chapter Text

“Major?” Leon watched as Krauser’s attention turned to him, blond brows pinching together. 

“What is it, rookie?” He didn’t seem happy to be disturbed. Drills were done for the day. The Major probably wanted to head back to his barracks, turn on his music and forget the poor fools he’d spent the day training. 

But Leon had other plans. 

“I wanted to speak with you.” 

And, despite his clear reluctance, Krauser eventually led Leon back to his office, settling into his chair with an unwillingness that might have made someone think he was being held at gunpoint. “Let’s hear it, rookie. I’m missing dinner. And so are you.” 

“Why haven’t you told the rest about the bioweapons? The ones I fought in Raccoon City?” Leon wasted no time. 

Krauser just looked at him, and Leon couldn’t help but think that the deadpan look he gave was one he’d seen on you, before. 

“You want me to go around spilling classified information?” The Major sounded somewhere between amused and annoyed. 

“It shouldn’t be something the government kept from you,” Leon said, his voice assured. “It shouldn’t be something you keep from the rest of them.” 

Krauser narrowed his eyes, and the air around him seemed to darken a touch as the Major’s mood soured. But still, as he looked at Leon, he sighed and let his head drop a bit. “Look, rookie, no one knows that better than me. But if you think Uncle Sam isn’t gonna bring hell down on me for handing that information out without permission-”

“Major, respectfully, I don’t care if they’re happy or not. They cannot fight the things you’ve been training us to fight as well if they don’t even know they exist.” 

Krauser just looked at him, then. Scoffed. Shook his head. “You did just fine in Raccoon City without a day of experience,” he pointed out. “The Sergeant survived, having never seen any of that shit before-”

“And no one else on base did.” Leon shook his head. “The RPD was wiped out. The military took losses. Even Umbrella’s own mercenaries couldn’t survive in Raccoon City-”

“And they probably knew better than you what to expect there. Your point is?” 

“My point is that we need every edge we can get. They need every edge.” The radio might not have been loud enough to cover the raised voice Leon spoke in. Krauser seemed like he was going to match that energy, to snarl a response. Instead, the Major kept his voice low, his eyes narrowed. 

“If I tell something they don’t want out in the open, they have other people who will replace me here. People who won’t have my tolerance for your bullshit.” Krauser leaned towards him, bracing his arms against the desk. 

“I understand that, sir,” Leon said, stepping forward. Matching the Major. Showing him that he wouldn’t back down. “But that doesn’t change the fact that telling them what they’re up against will make them better prepared for them surviving it.”

“Kid, I’m not out to get court-martialed. And you shouldn’t be, either.”

“They already strong-armed me into service,” Leon said then, his tone harsh. “They’re not going to throw me out. So, I don’t really give a shit what they want to do to me.” 

Krauser frowned. Nodded. “Well, lucky you. I tend to give a shit if I’m going to lose my job.” 

“Your job is, as of right now, to make sure the men and women out there are equipped to fight Umbrella. You can’t do that if you’re not giving them the whole picture.” 

It was a hail Mary play. High risk, high reward. Leon didn’t think that the government could punish him in a worse way that they already had, but Krauser could make life a living hell. Even so, even knowing that risk, Leon spoke the words anyway because it was the best thing he could do. He could only make his point, and wait for the Major’s reply. And he waited a while, as Krauser’s eyes bored into Leon’s skull. 

“You’re right.” There was a moment of silence as Krauser grimaced, clearly displeased about what he was about to say. “And I’m going to do what I can. See if I can bypass some of this red tape.” 

Leon . . . hadn’t expected that. Krauser had never admitted that Leon was right about anything before. It settled his nerves, though, and the younger man nodded. “Thank you, Major.” 

Krauser just frowned, waving his hand. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a pain in the ass. Get out of here.”

Leon didn’t need to be told twice, and nodded, taking his leave. Or, rather, he was about to when the Major spoke up again. 

“And rookie?” Leon stopped just before he reached the door. “Careful with this. You’re a good soldier but be careful thinking rules don’t apply to you.” Krauser didn’t sound angry. There was no accusation in the words. Just fact. “It doesn’t matter what you survived. You’re an asset to the government, and they want to hold on to that asset, but you have entire squads of people out there training for the same thing you are.” He gestured with his chin towards the window, towards the rest of the base outside. “You’re valuable to them, but only so long as you play by their rules.” 

Leon nodded, and something in the Major’s eyes made him wonder if he was talking strictly about this conversation . . . but if he meant anything more by the words, he didn’t specify it, and Leon left the office behind. 

And even if he believed that Krauser would do what he could . . . Leon could only focus on his anger. The injustice of it. They’d forced him into this, and now they weren’t giving the others the tools they needed to survive it. 

You’re an asset. 

You’re valuable to them, but only so long as you play by their rules.

None of you were people, to them. You were all a means to an end. Just as the bioweapons Umbrella made were. Monstrosities that the US would have been content to trade Umbrella for, if Raccoon City hadn’t happened. They were all just pawns. Him. You. Krauser. Everyone on this base. Pawns. Weapons. Tools.

And suddenly, he desperately needed to feel like a human. 

So he headed towards the one person who could give him that feeling.                 

⧫⧫⧫

“So?” You were waiting in the training yard, alone. When you saw Leon’s stormy expression, his brows low and shadowing his eyes, you were glad that it was just you. That the two of you might be able to talk in peace, with just the sound of the radio inside the barracks to accompany whatever conversation you were about to have. “What’d he say?” 

Leon just shrugged. “Said he’d do his best. Try and get as much information released to us as he could.” 

He was upset about something. That was easy to see. “Then what went wrong?” 

For a moment, Leon didn’t say anything, shaking his head and letting out a breath. “Nothing. Just thinking about some things.” 

You nodded, examining him for a moment. “You want to talk about it?” 

Leon paused, and you could see that, as much as he did want to, something was holding him back. Maybe it was the now-open window into the officer’s barracks, where the music from Krauser’s radio drifted out. “No.” He finally answered. “Let’s go to the range.” 

You of all people knew what it was to turn to such things when the mind was at war. To arm oneself for that fight. So you nodded. You’d been hoping to fight with knives tonight, just the two of you. Hoping that, perhaps, after it got dark, you could steal a moment with him. But if your focus came at the end of a blade, then Leon’s, it seemed, came looking down the sights of a handgun. So, you let him lead the way. 

Having spent the last few months of your life on this base, it didn’t take you long to realize that he was not, in fact, going the way he should be. 

But he was leading you towards the mess hall. 

“Think you’re headed the wrong way, Kennedy,” you pointed out with a slight smile. 

He stopped, looking back at you with a look that was softer than the one he’d given earlier. Almost boyish, and beautiful. “No,” he said, stepping closer, keeping his voice low. “I’m headed right where I want to be.” 

And against reason and wariness, you felt your heart skip a beat - because since that first night, since you’d felt him kiss his way down your body, you’d wanted nothing but to be alone with him again. To feel your skin against his. To be with him. You’d both waited long enough. 

So you shook your head, humming a soft laugh. “Alright then,” you said, looking into those beautiful eyes of his. “Lead the way.” 

And then you followed him into the gathering dark. 

Chapter Text

Leon wasted no time. Nearly as soon as the two of you find the blind spot of the cameras, Leon’s lips were on your own, his hands on your body. Kissing desperately, and you kissed back just the same. You knew then that he didn’t want to stop at kissing. 

Neither did you. 

It had been little over a week since that first night, maybe, but those days had stretched on and on, and the two of you had been cautious. Though, now, something told you that Leon didn’t care so much about caution right now.  

You had been the one in turmoil, last time. You had been the one to let your passions push you past sense. Now, though, as you felt his lips seek out your neck, kissing just above the collar of your uniform, you found some nerves plaguing you. Because someone saw you that first time, and you’d been lucky enough that Valeria seemed content to let the two of you carry on. That didn’t make this safe. Didn’t make it smart. 

But Leon was smiling now when he hadn’t been before, and that was enough to convince you.

How easily this man could unravel you . . .

His mouth was at your throat, now, his arms around you. He’d become so strong, his embrace like iron. You could feel him holding you against him like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. But you weren’t going anywhere. Whatever made him feel the way he was feeling, you wanted to make it better. But you knew you couldn’t waste time, either so you started to undo his belt . . .

Only for his hands to stop you. 

You looked at him, confused, but Leon just pulled back and shook his head. “I went first last time,” he explained simply, quietly. Part of you wanted to protest that, this time, he’d been the one that had a rough day. That he was upset this time and needed relief. But you were also fully aware that when you were the one battling your own shadows, you had been the one to sink to your knees and draw whispered moans from him. 

And Leon was a lot more selfless than you were. 

So you weren’t surprised when he kissed your neck again, open-mouthed, and hot. He reached for your own belt, then, and you knew what was coming. Craved it. 

“I want to do this for you,” he whispered against your skin, and you sighed, careful to keep quiet. His voice had changed over these months, just as his body had. He sounded steadier these days. More certain. With you, though . . . you could still hear that rookie recruit’s softness. The quiet adoration he had for you. Another thing for you to fear - and another fear for you to ignore, in this moment as he looked at you through the dark. “Can I?” 

Ever the gentleman. Even when you could feel his need for you. 

So, you nodded. 

“Show me what you got, pretty boy,” you grinned, your voice low and wanting, and you loved the way he hummed softly at the nickname. You loved that you could get that reaction from him. That you got to see him like this. Only you. 

And only he got to see the way your breath hitched when he got the belt undone. Your pants open. “Let me take care of you,” he said the words like he needed to do this, or he’d crumble. Then his hand was there, pressed between your legs, moving slowly and carefully - you can tell by the way he hummed that he loves the feeling of it. The feeling of you. He mouthed at your neck, his hand continued with that pace, and you could tell that he wanted to take his time with this. That he wanted to worship you.

It’s a risk you couldn't take. 

So you pushed your hips against his hand. Back and forth. And when he didn’t take the hint, you gripped the hair at the back of his head. He swallowed back a groan as you whispered a command. 

“Faster.” 

He didn't need to be told twice, and his hand picked up the pace, his strokes coming faster, but his kisses were still gentle. Passionate. He kissed down a ways, towards your collarbone, just barely visible over the collar of the T-shirt you’re wearing. The chain of your dog tags was pinned between your skin and his lips for a moment, just as his fingers found just the right spot, and you couldn’t tell which action made you shiver more. You had to bite your lip, breathing hard through your nose as you felt the need building up in you. 

“That’s it,” you murmured, your breath hot against his hair. 

He was so caught up in what he’s doing he didn't realize you’d slid your own hand between his legs until it was pressing up against him, and then he exhaled against your skin. Your name left him in a quiet gasp, like he wanted to protest that you don’t need to do this for him.

But you did. 

You needed it as much as he did. 

And you believed in efficiency. 

So the two of you set a quick pace against each other, hands sliding over warm flesh. His lips found yours again and his kiss was perhaps the softest thing you’ve ever experienced, even with the desperation behind it. Then that kiss traveled downwards again, and you shook your head. 

“You’re greedy.” 

“I know,” he answered, and pushed your pants down a few inches. 

You couldn’t reach where you wanted from where he was now kneeling on the ground in front of you, and you got the feeling that was intentional. That he was set on making this all about you and only you. 

He trailed kisses across your hip, then down, and your mouth hung open as his mouth found where you needed him most. 

Oh god, his mouth.

His tongue. 

He’d always been good with both, but this? You’d underestimated him that first night, and since then you’d been trying to recall the exact details of that moment when his mouth met your flesh. And now . . . the memories didn’t do it justice. 

Your hand twisted in his hair, silently guiding him as you focused on not making a sound. Torn between needing this to be quick and wanting it to drag on forever. 

Leon understood the urgency, though, and his hands joined in the effort, touching everywhere his mouth couldn’t go. He licked and kissed and your heart sped up until you were sure it was going to break through your ribs. You wanted to throw your head back, to enjoy it, but you kept your eyes downward, fixed on the outline of him kneeling in front of you. There wasn’t much of a moon that night. No silver beams to bathe Leon in a soft glow as he lavished you. But you knew he was there, and that was enough. He hummed around and against you as you pulled his hair, guiding him. Whispering praises to him so soft he might not even be able to hear them. He just kept going, his lips never leaving you, his hands caressing you so gently. So lovingly. Then he sucked your tender flesh into his mouth, and you were a goner.

Staggered breaths and a voiceless moan left you, and you pressed his head further between your legs as you reached your end. Some part of you knew that you should have been keeping a lookout. Paying attention to your surroundings. But all you could see, even in the black of night, was him. 

“God, Leon,” you whispered at last, watching as he went on kissing you until it was over. 

But you had to move fast. 

So you hoisted him up carefully, hands on his arms, and pressed him against the wall again. 

“My turn.” 

It didn’t take long. 

Your touches had already worked him up, and with whatever frustrations he’d felt following his talk with the Major, he came apart when you took him in your mouth again. 

He managed to keep quiet again, but for the whispered moan he made of your name, and you felt it wash over you like a cool wave. Then, after a moment to collect yourselves, the two of you sat against the wall, side by side, staring out into the darkness. 

“You wanna tell me what happened now?” You finally asked, and Leon’s head slumped forward. 

“That would ruin the moment.” 

That was a no, then. 

Another moment of silence passed, and you knew that the two of you would have to go soon. That even being caught there together without your hands in each other’s pants wouldn’t look good. 

And yet, the two of you lingered. 

“Did you choose this?” Leon’s voice finally cut through the quiet, and you looked over at him. Your confusion didn’t last long before he elaborated. “STRATCOM. This training.” 

There was more confusion, then. A question that brought more questions. 

And then it brought a sense of horror because you realized all too soon what that question implied. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I did.” They’d offered a chance at revenge, and you’d taken it.

Leon wasn’t the type to want revenge, though. That wasn’t why he was here. 

“Did you?” 

Leon was quiet for a moment, and you had your answer before he even spoke it. “No.” 

You’d known. In so many ways, you’d always known. Hearing it, though, made you angry. Angry at the faceless, nameless people in power that had put Leon in the line of fire. The ones who looked at what had befallen your base, your friends, and hadn’t done enough in response. Not until Raccoon City. Not until Leon’s life and the lives of countless others had been ruined. 

“But I’m here now,” Leon resolved, because he was strong. You knew it. He wouldn’t weep for what had been taken from him. He would press on. 

“And you’re not alone.” 

Your words were so quiet, you were almost afraid he wouldn’t hear them. But he turned towards you, then, and you knew he gave you a soft smile in the night. 

“Neither are you.”

Chapter Text

"You asked me once what I'd do, if I hadn't enlisted," you began one night, as you circled Leon in the training yard, listening to the music Krauser subjected you both to. The topic was brought up after days of you thinking about that brief discussion you'd had with Leon. The grim turn of focus after you'd given each other a few moments of respite. 

Did you choose this? STRATCOM. This training.

The question - and Leon's answer - had taken up much of your thoughts these last few days. And it had all culminated in one way. One thought that you had promised never to entertain: what if? 

What if things had never gone wrong? 

What if your world hadn't been altered so completely? 

Hell, what if you'd never enlisted in the first place? 

"Think I have an answer for you." 

Leon's eyebrows rose in surprise, and not just because of the knife you swung at his stomach. One he dodged easily - and one that he punished with a near-miss swing at your attacking arm. You tried to hold Krauser’s lessons in mind. Tried to treat the practice blade as real. The threat of it made you both more cautious.

The trouble was that even having been with each other, even knowing each other so intimately, sparring was still very much a dance between the two of you. A language the two of you had perfected over the months, one that got your heart beating fast for more than just the danger of it. "Oh yeah?" He breathed and went after you with a quick slash to the chest. Almost had you there, too. "What would you do, then?" 

You swiped at him again, circling around him and bringing your unarmed hand towards his blade, trying to push it out of the way. It led to a brief but lightning fast exchange of hands and blades swinging at each other, neither of you gaining much ground before you both retreated back. 

He was smiling at you proudly. Better luck next time, he said without words, his eyes roaming your body for just a moment.

You couldn't help but smile back and do the same.  

"Think I'd make a pretty good DJ," you shrugged, nodding towards the open window of Krauser's office. Bluegrass was back, unfortunately. "Better than whoever he's listening to." You raised your voice a little, like you were hoping Krauser heard the jab. You didn't get any response from the Major, but Leon laughed. It was good to see him in better spirits. Good to know that letting him slot his head between your thighs made him feel better. Or maybe it was just the fact that the two of you had the night to yourselves again, since your new training partners had decided to take the evening off.

Even if you and Leon had agreed to prioritize practice over sex tonight, it was an opportunity for the two of you to be together, one way or another. 

"You would only ever play the Spice Girls," Leon teased, and you nodded shamelessly. 

"Damn right. And the world would be a better place for it." You were mostly joking. Mostly. Another exchange went by, and you landed a slash on Leon's arm as he stabbed at you. He wasted no time switching hands and going for your side with his left. You counter-cut to avoid, but he ended up nicking your leg with his blade anyway. 

"Stupid songs that make you happy," he nodded as you both backed away again, repeating the words you'd spoken to him so long ago. "I'd listen to that radio station." 

"Maybe I'd play some Green Day for you. If you're lucky."

His smile widened, and you had to admit that confidence looked absolutely staggering on him. 

But however good he looked now, however proud you were of how far he'd come, you still had every intention of winning. 

So, you were ready when he came at you, knife aiming high for the well between your shoulder and clavicle. You blocked with all the certainty of a soldier who'd lived for months with a knife in your hand. Trouble was, when you countered with a stab at Leon's belly, he knocked your hand away with the same level of confidence. You were quick to attack again, bringing your knife up and over to stab at his chest. 

You'd taught him well how to defend against that. A block and another counter cut nearly caught your arm, and you exhaled sharply at the quick follow up he delivered. 

Another near miss.

Too many of those as the gap between your skill levels shrank. 

Or maybe some buried part of you just wanted to feel him on top of you for a while. 

Then again, him being underneath you was just as fun.

You realized things might be dire for you as you went for a high attack, only to be blocked, and answered with a knife thrust straight at your heart. 

You smacked Leon's attack away in time. 

Unfortunately, you weren't fast enough to stop the hard side kick he delivered to your stomach  that sent you stumbling backwards. You let out a grunt at the pain just before you righted your stance.

He was becoming very fond of those kicks. 

"Not bad, pretty boy," you praised, your voice low so Krauser couldn't overhear. 

"Not too hard?" He asked, and you knew that he did it because he was trying to be mindful of your old wounds. The scars on your belly and ribs, and the trouble that the tissue underneath sometimes gave you. 

You appreciated the concern, but with how your blood was pounding in your veins, you couldn't help but feel it was misplaced, right now. 

"You're fine," you shook your head, and then you rushed him. Your strikes and defenses happened almost simultaneously, you going high and Leon going low. You were the one a step ahead this time, though, and you hooked his leg and brought him down. You saw surprise cross his face, but only for a moment before you were struggling against each other on the ground, bodies pressed against each other. "Besides . . ." you managed through gritted teeth, just as the two of you finished your grapple with you narrowly coming out on top. Your knife slid into place, held in a reverse grip at his neck. He was getting damn good . . . but you were still better. You grinned down at Leon, pinned to the ground beneath you, and spoke quietly to finish your thought, ". . . I don't mind it rough." 

His face went bright red, and then he smiled after a moment. However much of a hardened soldier he was becoming, you took special joy in knowing that you could still make him blush.  "Is that right?" he asked. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he promised with a hushed voice, and you got your second victory out of his flustered state. 

So, taking in the sight, you climbed off of him and offered him a hand up. 

He smiled up at you as you pulled him from the ground, and he dusted himself off. "So, a DJ, huh?" Leon didn't seem to quite believe you, but the idea seemed to make him happy all the same. 

"Ah, probably not," you admitted. "Just the first thing off the top of my head."

"I could see it," Leon said, and then went on after a moment. "Or, you know, an MMA fighter." 

You snorted, nodding. "Or that." You rolled your shoulders back, taking a breath and asking him the question that had been on your mind for days now. "What about you?" 

Leon looked at you then, and you could tell he was trying to deflect as he raised a brow. "Do I like it rough? Or . . ." 

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "What would you do? If you could go anywhere? Be anything?" It was a big question. The kind that middle schoolers asked of each other, when the whole world seemed like it was laid before them. Before most saw the railroad tracks their lives were angled down. It was the kind of question you didn't concern yourself with often, because why worry about something that would never be? With Leon, though . . . you wanted to know what shape his life might have taken if not for all he'd suffered. What he would choose now, knowing what he did. 

And you found yourself unsure of what to think when Leon looked at you and shrugged after a long moment. "Honestly? I . . . I guess I don't know, either." His words were quiet, betraying how much the thought bothered him. "I mean, I thought about being a cop somewhere else. After Raccoon City. But . . . I just couldn't shake it. What happened there." You knew all too well the meaning behind those words. "Not that I had long after it all happened before they 'asked' me to join." 

"If they'd given you a choice?" You found yourself asking, hating the world for even needing to pose choice in this as a hypothetical. "Would you have joined?" You weren't quite sure why you were asking. 

Maybe, perhaps because some part of you wondered if his choice would involve the life you had chosen for yourself. Not the idle fantasies, but the real one. The one you both were in now.

Leon pressed his lips into a thin line, and again, shrugged. "I don't know. I mean . . . I've always wanted to help people. I think . . . I know there's a chance for us to do that. It's just . . ." 

"Not how you pictured doing it." You finished the thought for him, and he nodded. 

"Yeah." 

You could sympathize. You hadn't joined the Army with any grand ambitions. It had been an escape. A desperate one, from a life that would have gone nowhere otherwise. You'd never planned on becoming a Sergeant, initially. And you'd never planned on becoming an agent for a classified program. You'd never had the imagination to predict any of this. 

But here you both were. The two of you, your lives taken and twisted into something you hadn't been meant to live. At the whim of something you couldn't control. 

Cogs in a machine. 

And even if you felt like it was a machine you belonged in, there was, perhaps, a part of you that wanted something else. 

"Maybe not a DJ for me," you said, after a long pause between you and Leon. "Maybe just . . . a house away from everything. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere green." 

You watched as the words made his face shift, and he looked at you with that soft, beautiful smile of his. "That sounds nice. Maybe in the mountains somewhere-" he said it like it was something he thought about, too. Like it wasn’t just your stupid little pipe dream, but his as well. 

Suddenly, you felt more vulnerable than you were comfortable with, so you shrugged. Played it off as nothing. Waved away a mosquito that got too close - a herald of the summer on the way. "Probably not in the cards, though." 

"Maybe not now . . ." Leon stepped closer, and you realized that you were entertaining too much hope, ". . . but some day-" 

"Think you're being optimistic again there, Kennedy." 

"You started the conversation," Leon pointed out. You had to give him that. 

"I did." Because some part of you was awake, now. A part of you that you didn’t want, but every moment you spent with Leon, it stirred more and more. A foolish, impossible longing for something that you could never have, because there would never be anything normal about your life ever again. 

But you imagined it, anyway. 

You hadn’t used to. Not before Leon. 

“But seriously,” Leon went on, and you wished he would drop it, “that’s a good dream.” 

“It’s an unlikely one.” 

“You’re not asking to go to the moon, you know,” he chuckled. “You’ll have to live somewhere.” 

“I’ve lived on a base since I enlisted,” you shook your head. “Don’t know if I’d know what to do with myself out of one.” It was spoken with an air of realization, because you hadn’t really thought about it before now. You’d just accepted that as your reality. But when you were done with training, when you were sent out into the world, would that change? You almost couldn’t imagine it. 

“Maybe we’ll have to find out, then,” Leon said, and you just looked at him. Wondered if you should shoot down the idea. 

You wondered too little and too late, though, because you found yourself nodding. Because you wanted to entertain something happy. Not just for him, but for the both of you. “Maybe we will.” It was too much of an allowance of hope, though, so even as you watched Leon’s smile brighten, you shrugged again. Backpedaling. “No sense thinking about it much now, though. Not like we’re leaving this base any time soon.” 

And, because fate liked to make you the butt of so many jokes, you were proven very much wrong the next morning. 

⧫⧫⧫

The sound of tires scraping against gravel. The distant growl of heavy engines. 

The morning run was interrupted the next day by the sounds of vehicles. Leon had enough sense not to let the sound distract him too much, but once breakfast came around, the whispers had well and truly spread through the base. 

It was Alenko who voiced those whispers, his eyes alight with a more genuine excitement than Leon had ever seen from him.

"Did you see the monsters they drove in?" he asked, sitting down at the table with an energy that didn't match how utterly bruised he was. 

"Heard them," you nodded, taking a bite of the rice and meat they'd served that day. "Sounded heavy duty." 

"A bunch of Humvees, APV's, they even brought an M1117," Alenko exclaimed with such genuine glee, and Leon had to smile. 

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Leon held up his hands in celebration, earning him a side-eye from you. 

“It’s May.” Your deadpan just made him laugh. 

“Ah, you’re no fun.” 

You gave him a look at his response, shaking your head and returning to your meal. But he saw the little smile curving the corners of your mouth. He would never tire of that smile. Not after the sun and all the stars burned out. 

“You’ve probably never seen any of those heavy vehicles up close, have you, rookie?” Valeria asked, raising an eyebrow in Leon’s direction. 

His focus recentered, Leon studied the dark-eyed soldier then, wondering where she was going with this, because Valeria seemed to always be going somewhere with everything she said. “No,” he admitted, and he felt your eyes on him again. 

“Oh, you’ll be in for a treat then,” Valeria said the words with a smile.

Leon learned soon that she was right, because Krauser, it seemed, had called in more than just the APV’s and Humvees. An officer accompanied the vehicles, and several technicians. Mechanics. People who specialized in keeping the machines running. It became clear that the Major intended you all to learn your way around the machines, but the greatest surprise came the day after the vehicles arrived. 

Because as the squad formed up for morning drills, the Major made an announcement. 

“I’ll be leaving you all for a few weeks,” he began, and Leon was sure that, were they not all standing at attention, there would have been murmurs throughout the squad. He could see your eyes widen, clearly taken by surprise. “Got a report I need to make to Command. If all goes well, I’ll have some new things for you when I get back. New lessons.” Leon knew what he meant, then. He knew that he was going to speak to Command about the bioweapons. He was going to try to do as Leon asked, going about it the careful way. 

Leon hadn’t pegged Krauser as one to cleave to what his superiors ordered all the time, but he supposed that if this was his life, if the Army and STRATCOM were all he had, then he understood that caution. 

And if this let them all keep their instructor, then Leon was more than accepting of this happening the “right” way. 

He couldn’t believe he was actually rooting for this path so he could go on being taught by an asshole who had woken him up with tear gas. Who’d done so much to break him and you and everyone else down. But he was understanding now what you had known all along. That Krauser, despite it all, was doing his best to make sure that you would all survive everything. That you would all have as many tools at your disposal as possible. 

And that included APV’s, apparently. 

APV’s . . . but that wasn’t where things were going to end, it seemed, because Krauser went on as a more lithe but no less stern man stepped up beside him. “This is Commander Cortez. He’ll be taking you all on a little field trip up to Fort Benning. It’s past time you all got some experience behind the wheel.” 

And Leon had seen the way your eyes widened as Krauser gave the location. You and all the rest of your squad. Alenko looked like he was about to jump out of his skin, he was so excited. 

He asked you later why you’d balked like that. 

“Fort Benning,” you began to answer, “it’s where the Armor School is. They train cavalry scouts there and-”

Alenko cut you off, his smile making him seem years younger. “And tanks, man,” he said, and Leon felt his eyes widen. “That’s where you learn how to drive tanks.” 

Leon went quiet for a moment, looking over at you, then nodding. “Huh. Well, shit.” 

It seemed the two of you would be getting some time off-base after all.

Chapter Text

The ride to Fort Benning was a long and strange one. 

When Leon had been "recruited" into STRATCOM, he'd been promised that they would teach him how to handle every kind of situation. He supposed that he hadn’t really expected that to include tanker training. More than that, he hadn’t expected to leave the base he'd called home for so long. He knew it was for more than just tank training that you were all heading there, though. Krauser needed time. He needed to convince the men upstairs that this training should be tell-all. 

To tell everyone what sort of horrors they’d be thrown up against. 

Leon tried to imagine their reactions. They might have heard rumors of Raccoon City and the undead that had stalked its streets, but that was all too different from knowing that such a thing was possible. That it existed. 

Assuming that Krauser could get access to what he needed. 

That was what he thought of as he sat in the Humvee, wishing that you had been put in the same vehicle as you. Or, at the very least, that there was some music. Instead, he'd sat with Valeria, Anderson and Alejandro, while Alenko drove and prattled on about the tanks that awaited them all. 

The man’s eyes lit up even more when you all arrived, searching for the heavy machines he was so excited to see. 

Fort Benning was massive. Large enough to house hundreds of soldiers, as well as the tanks and open space large enough to drive them. Your squad's home base at Camp Tango wasn't even half that size. It was meant to be small. Covert. Everything about this place was shock and awe by comparison. 

And the soldiers being trained there acted like it. 

Your base had an air of bravado and arrogance to it, sure, but the men here were on another level. The minute your squad unloaded, Leon felt eyes on him. Heard whispers and snickered jokes. He supposed that driving around several-ton machines that were designed only to kill, could inflate one's sense of confidence. But he soon learned that it was more than just the tanks these men drove that made them eye your squad like vultures. 

"You'd think they'd never seen a woman before," Williams grumbled as everyone filed into the barracks, passing too many leering cadets on the way. 

"They haven't," Alenko shook his head. "At least, not here. The Armor School's never admitted women before." 

Leon had frowned at that. "What?" He'd looked over to you for confirmation, and you barely nodded before Valeria grinned and butted in. 

"So, these boys get to see history in the making. Lucky them," she said, giving one particularly offended looking cadet a wink, and even if Leon didn't like or trust her, he couldn't help but smile at the sentiment. He saw that even you did, as much as you tried to hide a positive reaction to anything Valeria did. 

And even if it was more training, more exertion and more methods of dealing death to learn, there was some excitement to be found in the fact that this squad was making history. And Leon soon found some small excitement as the squad lined up in the motor pool on the first day, and you were all surrounded by massive metal beasts. Things Leon had never thought to be so close to, much less operate. That excitement spread through most of the squad, he could see it in their eyes. 

But in your eyes, he saw something else. Something he only glimpsed at lunch in the mess hall, or when you would all retire to the barracks. Your eyes would linger on the soldiers of Fort Benning - not the ones that would cause you and the rest of the squad trouble, but rather the little groups they’d formed amongst themselves. Leon saw you watching them laughing together at mealtimes, talking in groups before turning in for the night . . . 

It didn’t take a genius to imagine why. You’d spoken very little about those you’d been stationed with before, but the Army had been your life. Your purpose. And the people in it . . . well, Leon knew you well enough by now to know that you hadn’t always been so guarded. 

He wondered if you’d shared laughs like that with your brothers in arms, once. If you’d shoved someone when they told a bad joke. If you’d shown the side of yourself that Leon had been lucky enough to know more freely. 

There was little time to think about it, though. Not when you were all essentially learning two Army roles at once. When you weren’t all learning how to operate and maintain the tanks, you were sent into the woods alongside the cavalry scouts, rifles in hand. It was more work in less time than either role would traditionally have to deal with, but Leon expected no less of Krauser. Even if the Major wasn’t there, he was still pushing you all to the limit. 

And you and Leon pushed yourselves harder still. 

Your sparring sessions continued in your off hours and, somewhat begrudgingly so, Williams, Alenko and Valeria joined you most nights. The staff had seemed intrigued when you both asked for the practice knives necessary, and your sessions quickly drew crowds. The cadets wanted to see what was so special about these STRATCOM recruits, it seemed. And the five of you gave them a good show. Good enough that Leon heard the cadets whispering. At least, it started as whispering. Then it gradually grew loud enough for Leon to hear the words. 

“Don’t see what’s so special about them.”

“Shit, bet we could lay ‘em out.”

“I’d like to lay that pretty one out-”

“Which one? That boy with the fringe is prettier than all of them-” 

Leon’s eyes narrowed, ducking under a swing from Valeria as he heard the words. If his sparring partner noticed the conversation happening around them, she didn’t seem to mind it. 

Who did mind, though, was watching with crossed arms from the sidelines, giving Williams and Alenko notes in a way that reminded Leon of a bit of Krauser. He didn’t know how the Major would react to the comments, but you . . . he saw the annoyance on your face grow more and more.

Williams beat you to the punch, though. 

“You assholes don’t have anything better to be doing?” she asked, stopping her fight with Alenko and looking over at the sneering cadets. 

The leader of the little group just smiled. “Trust me, sweetheart,” he said, looking past Williams and to Valeria. “There are lots of other things I’d rather be doing.” 

The fight between Leon and Valeria ended quickly then, as the dark-eyed woman noticed the attention on her. “Don’t think you could handle me,” she said, and even if it was in her usual confident tone, the sharpness of her eyes betrayed that she didn’t appreciate the attention.

With a self-satisfied smile, the leader of the pack stepped forward. “Think I’d like to try, though.”

“Don’t be a dick-” Alenko began to protest, but Leon was a little faster.

“If you’re looking to get your ass handed to you, go ahead,” Leon said, because he of all people knew that Valeria could shut this man up with little effort. Any of the five of you could, he was sure. But this man didn’t seem convinced. 

“Bet she’d put up more of a fight than you,” the man said, stepping closer to Leon now. Two steps were all he managed to take before another voice joined in. One that made Leon smile, despite the irritation he was feeling.

“You wanna run your mouth all night, or you wanna fight?” you asked, looking over at the cadets that had been dealing out the trash talk. 

The men looked surprised, and then they looked far too smug. “Oh, yeah?” one asked, a young man with broad shoulders and short-cropped hair. A jaw that Leon thought was exceedingly punchable. “Didn’t think you spec ops types were allowed to mix with the rest of us,” he said, drawing a hard line between your group and his. 

You just held his eye contact, and Leon felt a surge of utter adoration for you as you spoke again. “We all have to get our hands dirty sometimes.” 

The cadet sneered, looking to his fellows before stepping forward. “Alright. Never thought I’d get to kick a spec ops soldier’s ass.” 

Your reply was cold and swift. “You won’t.” 

That sneer turned into a full-bodied frown, his eyes flashing with the fire of a wounded pride. “You think you’re special? An army of girls and pretty boys? What do they teach you over there, huh? How to paint your nails? How to style your hair?”

“How to humble assholes like you.” Leon couldn’t say where the comment came from, and he didn’t much care. He took some small pride in the way the cadet’s gaze snapped towards him, all angry fire. 

“You think you can take me, pretty boy?” It was amazing how, from you, the nickname sent chills down Leon’s spine. From anyone else, though - and from this cadet specifically . . . Leon just felt it stoke the need to show this arrogant bastard what you’d all spent so many hours learning. What so many bruises and black eyes had taught him. 

“I don’t just think it,” Leon answered, and he saw you smirk out of the corner of his eye. You and the rest of your little training group.

The square-jawed cadet tilted his head, popping the bones in his neck in an over-exaggerated way. “Alright then,” he said, stepping up to Leon. "Let's do this." 

This man, whoever he was, was massive. He was built well, no doubt from hours spent training. He looked like the kind of man who could knock someone unconscious with a single punch. 

So, Leon wouldn't give him the chance.

"Armed or unarmed?" Leon asked, his heart steady. Steadier than maybe it should have been. 

The answer came quickly. "Unarmed." 

And so, Leon handed his knife to Valeria, who gave him a devilish smile. "Fuck him up, blanquito ," she said and stepped back. Leon looked over at you, watching from a few feet away. You wore a smirk that matched Valeria's. A silent urging that he could see plainly in your eyes. 

Show them what you can do.

Who was he to disappoint you? 

So, he took up his stance a little ways away from the challenger, bringing his arms up. He had never liked the idea of violence to prove a point. He'd never been one to pick fights, and all the ones he'd chosen as of late were not out of malice or anger. But if the man was going to say shit like that, Leon could make an exception. Besides, he wanted to spar anyway. Krauser's words echoed in Leon's head, and they made him have to suppress a smirk. Might even learn something. So, as the cadet met him, taking up a ready stance as well, Leon exhaled a breath, and found that there was no fear to expel from his body. 

Only the need to teach this asshole a lesson. 

The cadet attacked first, as Leon expected he might. His fist came forward with a power that Leon knew would bruise, the force of it parting the air as the man across from him swung. But the blow never landed, and Leon met the man's strength with his own as he blocked the strike. 

And then, with a speed that he'd honed at the end of your knife, Leon moved.

There was no knife in the man's hand, but Leon knew that certain techniques would carry over anyway. Techniques like controlling the arm, his hands closing to keep it in place. Keeping the cadet he was fighting still long enough for the quick knee Leon brought up into his stomach to connect. He pulled the blow just enough not to hurt the man too badly, but the cadet still had his air forced from him as it landed. And then even more air as Leon leveraged his arm and forced the cadet face-first to the ground, pinning him down in the dirt. 

And from there, from his place of near-effortless victory, Leon knew exactly how you'd felt that first day he'd met you. He knew how utterly powerful you must have felt, taking someone down like it was nothing. He remembered so vividly what it was like to be the one down in the dirt. The one who'd been so thoroughly defeated. That day, part of him had thought he'd never know what it was to be the victor. 

But here he was. And as he looked up at you, as he saw the utter pride in your expression, he couldn't help but feel pride in himself, too. 

Pride enough for him to do as you did on that first day as he let the squirming cadet up, looking down at him with a smirk of his own. "Again?" 

The man was furious, Leon could see it in his face. Ears and cheeks red, eyes narrowed . . . but his pride wouldn't let him stop. He spat the word Leon was waiting for. "Again."

⧫⧫⧫

And again. 

And again. 

And again.

You watched Leon humiliate the cadet who'd challenged him over and over again that night, and with each victory, you felt something swell in your chest. Pride, yes, but something else too. Affection. Adoration. You thought back to that first day, when you'd faced down a frustrated and overwhelmed rookie, one you'd never imagined yourself caring for.

One you'd never imagined yourself falling for. 

You'd fallen for Leon's kindness. His empathy. His determination. But as you watched him fight that night in Fort Benning, you found yourself falling for another part of him entirely: his power. His skill. His steadiness. He'd come so far, and as the sun dipped beneath the sky and Leon went on, sweat beading at his brow and his beautiful blue eyes focused on his opponent, you couldn't have been prouder. More . . . 

You didn't let yourself focus on that deeper emotion bubbling in your chest. The one that bellied all others, which made the world a little brighter when you looked at Leon. When you spoke to him. When he kissed you. 

You didn't want to focus on that. Didn't want to name it. Instead, you watched as Leon brought the cadet he was fighting down with a powerful kick to the side, sending the man sprawling. 

And finally, it seemed, the man had enough. 

He stood slowly, trying his best to keep his balance after the thorough thrashing Leon had given him. His eyes told you that even if he'd been defeated, though, this fight wasn't over. "Fucking spec ops-" he spat, and the crowd that had gathered to watch the fight murmured a little. "None of that shit is gonna help you behind the controls of a tank." He was grasping at straws. Trying to keep some semblance of his tattered pride. 

Your squad, though, wasn't having any of it, and you found your heart stirring for a different reason when Alenko stepped up beside Leon, clasping a hand on his shoulder. "No. And bruises won't help you behind those controls, either. So, I'd suggest you go get some sleep."

"Or stay," Valeria piped in, crossing her arms and smirking. "If you want some more." 

You watched from the sidelines as your fellow recruits stood by Leon, backing him up. Supporting him as a squad should. It had been so long since you'd felt that. Camaraderie. Unity. And then, even if it should have frightened you, it made you crack a small smile.  

The cadet Leon had beaten looked between you all, then to Leon, and his rage simmered behind his eyes. Still, he waved a hand, turning and storming off. Some of his fellow Fort Benning cadets followed him, throwing harsh glances at Leon. Not all, though. Some approached, grinning or giving respectful nods. Some congratulated him on his string of victories, their respect earned. 

And then it was just the five of you, and you were all smiles. 

"Fucking beautiful, Kennedy," Williams said, stepping up to Leon and then punching him a little too hard in the shoulder. "Next time, though, leave some for me." 

Leon laughed, and the sound only made your smile grow more. "Deal,” he nodded, and Alenko piped in. 

“There might be a next time, you know. Guys like that don’t like being made a fool of.” 

“Good,” Valeria grinned. “Because I think I’d like to see you land a few hits on him,” she looked at Williams, and you missed the way it made the taller woman go pink because you looked down, overcome with a sense of longing that you’d never quite been able to bury. A memory of smiles and witty comments, and a radio playing stupid, happy songs. A sense of togetherness that had been ripped away from you. 

And you realized then, when it was just in reach, how much you’d missed it. 

“Sarge-” your title. Always your title with everyone but Leon. It was that way by your own design, you supposed. It was less personal that way. But the way Valeria said it now, like more of a nickname than a rank . . . it made you look up, and you almost didn’t begrudge her the too-knowing look she shot you. “Aren’t you going to congratulate your boy?” 

Your boy. 

You should have been pissed at her for saying something like that, for risking even an implication of that connection. Instead, though, that frustration melted when you saw how Leon looked, smiling and surrounded by his squad mates. 

It made your troubled eyes soften. 

You didn’t move closer, not yet, but you did nod. “Never enjoyed seeing someone get their ass whooped so much,” you said, your eyes finding Leon’s, saying more to him with that look than you ever could with words. 

The smile it brought from Leon was worth more than anything in the world. “Learned from the best,” he said, and you wished that you could just grab him and kiss him, then and there. 

Instead, you volunteered for fire watch that night. 

And when you were sure that everyone else was asleep, when the shadows of the new barracks were at their darkest, you made your way to Leon’s bunk. He was dreaming, you could hear him shifting uncomfortably in bed, and you knew that his eyes were likely shifting back and forth beneath their lids. It made you feel less guilty about waking him up, placing your hand on his shoulder. You heard his sharp intake of breath, and he sat up a ways, the outline of him turning to look at you in the dark. 

Neither of you spoke - not wanting to even risk a whisper. You just kept your hand on his shoulder, and you felt his clasp over the top of it. A silent gesture.

It was a risk, but you leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

Even if it only lasted a second or two, it was enough. You didn’t let yourself wonder how the hell you’d gotten here; how you’d fallen so hard. No, you just smiled at Leon through the dark and gently pushed him back down, silently telling him to go back to sleep. You felt him squeeze your hand and then obey, and you resumed your watch, glad of the dark for hiding the stupid smile that graced your face.

Chapter Text

Even if Fort Benning was a new space for you, even if it was a completely different base with different people, some things stayed the same - unanimous in your experience on Army bases. 

That was that information spread fast. 

Again you were reminded of that first meeting with Leon, how word had spread that you’d been called in to fight his squad, and how you’d trounced him. Now, though, months later, you couldn’t help but smile as you heard whispers about Leon’s victory. “You the kid that knocked Taylor’s ass in the dirt?” some cadets would ask Leon, and you could only watch with pride as he nodded and received a respectful nod in response. “Good-'' was usually the response. “Asshole needs to learn to shut his mouth.” Not everyone was so pleased with the victory, though. The man Leon defeated - Taylor - was covered in bruises the next day, glowering at Leon and the rest of you from across the mess hall tables. He had a fair few sympathizers, it seemed, because the men sitting around him matched his expression, looking at your squad like they were hoping you’d all burst into flames. 

Fortunately, Leon had backup of his own. 

When the rest of your squad heard about it, they were all too eager to congratulate him. Alejandro had slapped him on the back at lunch when he confirmed it was true. “Nice going, kid,” he’d praised. “‘Bout time we showed these boys what’s what.” 

And after Taylor’s comments the night before, you all decided that it wasn’t enough to humiliate the man in hand to hand combat. It became an unspoken goal amongst the visiting STRATCOM recruits to beat the Fort Benning boys at their own game. 

So, when you were all paired up in fours and assigned to a tank, each and every one of you took to it with a determination. There was no incentive to perform well like the desire to win, even if the game was one of your own making. Few more so than your own group. You and Leon had tried hard not to smile at each other when you were grouped together, along with Williams and Alenko. 

You were grateful for each of them being paired with you. After the incident with Taylor, after the comments he’d made, Williams was particularly motivated to out-perform him and everyone else. Alenko was the most knowledgeable on how the tanks worked, having wanted to work with them before being recruited into STRATCOM. He often prattled off facts about the machines, about their history, how they ran. Things that proved both useful and amusing. And Leon . . . well, it went without saying why you were happy to be paired with Leon. The two of you worked well together; months of getting close resulted in you knowing how to communicate well with each other. 

What surprised you was that the same extended - to a lesser degree - to Williams and Alenko. It was a bit difficult at first, with the four of you being crammed into an unfamiliar machine, taught to operate it in a crash course. Finding a rhythm was a daunting task, but you eventually started to figure out where you were best suited.

The four of you alternated positions for the first few days. Gunner, loader, driver and commander. Each of you learning the ins and outs, coming to appreciate the danger and power of the tank you operated. And as the days went on, as you all traded responsibilities and lessons, you all found which positions suited you best. It didn’t surprise you when Leon excelled as the gunner. You’d known him to be a good shot with everything that had a trigger thus far, so seeing him taking to this quickly - though vastly different - was no surprise. And the first time he fired the giant weapon, the first time you all felt the force of it shake the tank and your very bones, each of you had a look of awe on your faces. 

Williams and Alenko were both good drivers, a touch more cautious than Leon was. Well, perhaps a great deal more cautious. The tank couldn’t go that fast, all things considered, but that didn’t stop you from fearing for the tank’s integrity a few times with Leon behind the controls. Williams and Alenko were more measured. Safer. 

And you . . . well, you honestly preferred just loading the rounds into the main gun. It wasn’t easy, per se, because the rounds were sixty pounds each and you had to be quick and careful, but it was a process you felt you could perform reliably. In another life, perhaps you would have liked to be the commander. You would have liked to be the one keeping an eye out, directing everyone else, telling the driver of dangers around you and the gunner where to aim. After all, you’d made Sergeant so young for a reason. You’d been on the track of being a leader, once. As it was now, though . . . you weren’t sure you were the best person for the job, so you often left it to Williams or Alenko. 

So, you kept your limited authority to the sparring sessions you and Leon held. Ones that, much to your surprise, proved to be more and more popular, not just among your fellow STRATCOM recruits, but those training at Fort Benning, too. Some just observed the brutal bouts, while others decided to try their luck and challenge one of you. 

Most of them ended up in the dirt just as Taylor had. Most of them were like him - assholes with something to prove. Some of them, though, were actually looking to learn. Asking for you and the others to help them improve. 

You wouldn’t say you were happy to oblige them, but you did it anyway. 

And once again, you found some pride in how Leon started giving feedback of his own, telling recruits that they were telegraphing their movements too much, or when they could have taken advantage of an opening . . . it was jarring to see him giving the notes you’d given him, not so long ago. More proof of how much he’d grown. How far he’d come. 

You wanted to get home. Back to your own base.

You wanted to pull him into the blind spot of the cameras and show him just how proud of him you were. You wanted to be with him . . . but you held off, because there were too many eyes here and Fort Benning was too unfamiliar. And with the way Taylor and his fellow idiots were watching Leon especially, waiting for him to slip up. For any of you to, really. He clearly hadn’t taken well to his pride being damaged, and he made it a problem for all of you. Easy to do, when you were all handed over to the recruits to work alongside them in the motor pool on tank maintenance. He and his fellows - the ones who seemed to have a problem with you and the others - hadn’t learned their lesson, it seemed, and went on making comments about your squad. 

It was weighing on each of your nerves, but you pressed on, doing your best to ignore him. 

Hard to do when every time you were all chewed out for making a mistake, Taylor was there, smiling smugly. “Told you all,” he would so often speak some variation of the words, “all those punches and kicks they’ve been teaching you? Won’t help you here.” 

For the most part, you would all roll your eyes and carry on. 

Until the day you watched Valeria’s group of four climb out of a tank, having just driven it in an exercise with enough skill to make Commander Cortez nod in approval. They were getting better, and with Valeria behind the controls of the tank, it was enough to make most people congratulate her. But then your group walked past Taylor, and you could see that spark of animosity in his eyes. Jealousy or just simple-mindedness, you didn’t know. 

All you knew is that you expected him to say something base and ignorant as Valeria walked past with her entourage. 

And he did just that . . . only he didn’t stop at words this time. 

“Well shit,” he said, “maybe you can handle a tank well. Maybe I should get you on my crew . . . see what else you can handle . . .” Valeria narrowed her eyes and looked up at him as he went on, and you could tell she was already forming one of her quick retorts, but it wasn’t delivered quite as fast as the hand that Taylor brought out. 

Then, even with the amused chuckles of Taylor’s friends, it felt like silence fell as Taylor smacked Valeria squarely on the ass. 

Your anger flared like it hadn’t in weeks, but Williams, who had been following a few paces behind Valeria, saw red. Taylor would have been smart not to antagonize Valeria, and smarter still not to do it in front of others. But of all the people he had to pull that shit in front of, Williams was the most foolish. He learned that quickly when the tall, broad-shouldered woman cracked her fist square into Taylor’s face, the force of her blow like a battering ram. 

You couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath of air as you saw a tooth get knocked clean out of that smart mouth of his. 

Everything after that happened fast. Taylor cried out in pain, holding his now bleeding mouth, realizing what he’d lost. And then he was swinging right back at Williams, what little decorum had been present in his sparring match with Leon now long gone. His attack was sloppy with his pain, though. Williams dodged it easily . . . not so for the second one, delivered by one of the men at Taylor’s side that caught her in the nose by surprise.  

Valeria answered that with a blow of her own, coming up to the man’s side and kneeing him hard in the gut.

And as it became clear that it was going to be more than just the two of them, you were moving. There it was again - that sense of unity. You, Leon, Alejandro, Alenko . . . your entire squad moved as one, and you saw genuine fear cross the eyes of the dozen or so Fort Benning recruits that backed Taylor up. Like they realized the wolves were closing in around them. 

Commander Cortez must have realized it too, because he was rushing over to you all quickly, shouting out a command. “Back the fuck off!” he ordered, and all but Valeria listened. She’d never been one for following rules she thought were bullshit. And she’d never been one to pull her punches. As she laid low the recruit who’d punched Williams, she rushed Taylor next, giving him no time to breathe. The man backed away quickly, running when faced with the consequences of his actions. 

Valeria likely would have knocked the rest of the teeth from his mouth, were it not for Alejandro grabbing her and holding her back. “Quieres a ver qué yo puedo hacer hijo de gran puta?! Vamos pinché cabrón!” she shouted, trying to break free of Alejandro’s grip. 

“Stand down! All of you!” Cortez roared. He went to stand between Valeria and Taylor - a brave notion - and finally it felt like the fuse on that particular stick of dynamite had been cut. 

Valeria still looked like she wanted to tear Taylor’s throat out, and Williams was even worse, but no one moved. Not with the Commander right there. Still, a big part of you wanted Valeria to just keep going. Especially when Cortez looked at both Williams and Valeria in disappointment, not just Taylor. “Get your asses to the infirmary, then we’ll have a talk. The rest of you are dismissed.” 

There was a moment of lingering tension, one where Taylor looked from Williams, to Valeria, Leon and then the rest of your squad. As those enraged eyes scanned the crowd, as he spat blood from a mouth that had one less tooth in it, you knew that this wasn’t over. 

⧫⧫⧫

Williams and Valeria had been given latrine duty for the next week as punishment for the fight. Leon heard that Taylor had been sent to sort munitions in the depot, and he couldn’t help but feel that the asshole had gotten off easy. 

As far as Williams was concerned, though, it was worth it. 

“Shoulda kept the tooth,” she chuckled that night in sparring, her nose swollen and bandaged. Didn’t stop her from showing up for practice though, and Leon had seen how proud that fact had made you. Even if you likely didn’t want to admit it. 

Alenko laughed, putting his training knife away. “Think that’s technically a war crime.” 

“Only if she gets caught,” Valeria pointed out. “A good performance like that deserves a trophy.” However pissed the woman had been at Taylor, Valeria had been all cinder-smiles and lingering glances towards Williams since the fight. Leon couldn’t help but think it was ironic, this soldier who had warned you and him not to be so obvious being just as transparent in her affections. And with Williams blushing every time Valeria looked her way . . . Leon was happy for them. Happy that, like him, they might have found some joy in all of this. He just couldn’t help but wonder if you and Alenko noticed what was very plain to him. 

You, he wasn’t sure about. If you noticed, you didn’t seem to care much. Alenko seemed more preoccupied thinking about Taylor. “Well, hopefully this will all incentivize him to back off,” the older soldier said, sounding thoroughly tired of Taylor’s bullshit. Leon couldn’t blame him there, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the brief fight today had only made things worse. 

“He got his tooth knocked out,” you shook your head. “He’s not gonna let that go.” 

The others nodded, and for a moment, a solemn silence settled in. 

Then, with a slight smile, you shrugged. “Funny as hell, though.” A laugh almost escaped you as you said it, and Leon felt his heart squeeze, seeing you opening up even in such a small way. It was enough to put him in a good mood as the rest of you walked back to the barracks . . . but then three figures stepped in the group’s path, and that good mood soured instantly. 

Taylor stood in the middle, and Leon recognized the man Valeria had beaten as well. The third was another cadet who’d sparred with you a few days ago. One who’d glared at you from the ground, just as so many others had. All of them were stone-faced and tense. 

“We were just talking about you,” Valeria sneered, and got no immediate response as Taylor stared down Williams. Then, Leon found himself under that blistering gaze. “What?” Valeria went on, scoffing. “Don’t feel like giving us a smile?” 

“Fuck you, you bitch,” Taylor spat, and Leon got a good look of the empty spot in the line of teeth - second from the middle. It took away drastically from the man’s chiseled features, and it might have been funny to Leon if it weren’t for the very plain threat being laid before them. If it wasn’t for the other figures - the same dozen that had been by Taylor’s side earlier today - that soon stepped up from behind you all, flanking your little group. All men that you or Leon or another of your group had taken down in sparring. 

Leon glanced over at you, seeing your body tense. Taught as a bowstring. 

He knew what was about to happen. 

“You knocked out my fucking tooth,” Taylor spat at Williams, and the tall woman frowned, her hands clenching into fists. “Bet you won’t be so pretty with a few of yours missing.” 

“You’re really doing this?” Leon shook his head. It was late, but there would still likely be witnesses. He was the one starting this fight. He would take the blame for this.

It seemed that Taylor didn’t really care, though, because he just narrowed his eyes. Five against twelve, surrounded. The odds weren’t in your group’s favor. He must have weighed that against the risk and decided that your group’s pain was more important than whatever punishment he might receive. So, Leon already knew his answer before he gave it. “Damn fucking right we are.” 

Then the group moved in, all of the dozen Fort Benning recruits rushing in, closing around your group like the jaws of some beast. 

Leon was struck with a sense of familiarity. It wasn’t the first time he’d been surrounded, but it wasn’t Raccoon City that he thought of now. No, instead, he thought of the training yard back on home base. He thought of you, of standing back to back with you, facing down Valeria, Alejandro and Andersen against Krauser’s orders. Only now it wasn’t just the two of you against the world. Neither of you were alone, and that became abundantly clear as Williams, Alenko and Valeria fell into stances behind him. As you readied yourself at his side. It wasn’t how he imagined his first real fight alongside you going, but Krauser had often told you all that few people got to choose when and where a fight happened. All they could do was prepare as best they could. 

And now, Leon supposed, Krauser’s other teachings would be put to the test. 

Chapter Text

Twelve. 

Twelve opponents. 

The odds weren’t good, but when had they ever been? You’d gotten used to fighting multiple opponents. But that was the trouble - what you were used to. With Leon - hell even with the rest of your squad - it had been a game of knowns. You all knew each other’s moves. Your habits. Hell, there was even something of a uniform fighting style amongst you all. It was brutal, but it made sense. 

This, though, was just violence. Messy and savage. 

Those first few moments were chaos. Well, if you were being honest, the entire thing was. Fights with seventeen combatants were seldom orderly affairs. 

You’d felt fear, anger and then . . . then you’d been lost in the crush, in the adrenaline and familiar cold focus. In the need to get you and yours through this. 

Thin the herd. Protect my own. That was your mission. 

You would see it done. 

You came one step closer to achieving that goal when some idiot thought you weren’t paying attention. They were right to strike while you were otherwise occupied, fighting another of the Fort Benning recruits. He hadn’t counted on your awareness, honed by hours spent under Krauser’s watchful eye, you outnumbered just as you were now. The newcomer had swung a backfist at your face - one you ducked under. Your palm struck his throat first, then your elbow crunched into his nose while he’d sputtered. He went down, curling in on himself.

Eleven.

Williams and Valeria took down one of their opponents, Valeria kicking him hard into a world-shaking blow from the taller woman. 

Ten.

Your world became moves and counter moves. Evasions and maneuvering to keep yourself from being surrounded. Punches and kicks you delivered that made you feel less like a person, more a force of nature. You knocked legs out from under the men you fought. Delivered pain to their stomachs and faces and twisted their arms almost to the point of breaking. Knuckles bloodied and bruised, your body ached from the blows you hadn’t been fast enough to stop. Your opponents were no better, though. You’d given as good as you got so far, as did the rest of your squad. The trouble was the numbers. That these bastards had a pension for getting back up. Watching each other’s backs only went so far when you were surrounded and so thoroughly outnumbered. You were all better than your opponents, but they still had training. They knew how to fight. More than that, you had to account for human error. You made mistakes. 

Mistakes like Valeria leaving her flank open when she thought Williams had her covered, earning her a tackle to the ground. 

Mistakes like Alenko being just a second too late on a block.

Mistakes like you falling for a feint and feeling the now-too-familiar impact of a fist to the face. Your eye felt the compression of the blow, the pain. Your head spun, everything going unfocused for a moment. You’d be black and blue and swollen tomorrow, you knew. 

Had to get there first. 

You staggered away. Vision clearing. Guard up. A shape moved in front of you, fist raised. 

It never landed.

⧫⧫⧫

Leon pulled your would-be assailant back, arms wrapping under the man’s own from behind. Holding him in place. He looked at you from over the man’s shoulder, seeing the pain but also the determination in your eyes. Not about to waste the opportunity Leon gave you, you pushed that pain aside and gave the man your retribution. Your kick hit the man hard between the legs, but Leon imagined the haymaker that followed hurt just as bad. The man’s breath left him in a sad exhale as you drove a fist into his head, and Leon threw him to the ground. 

Nine.

Your eyes widened and Leon didn’t have time to react to the blow that came his way, the attacker rushing him seemingly out of nowhere. It caught him in the side painfully hard, and then it was your turn to be his shield. 

Rushing to Leon’s side just as he blocked another punch, you spun, kicking your leg straight to the side. Leon had come to expect power from you, but every time he saw it . . . it was almost enough to make him fall for you all over again, even in the middle of all this mess. Your kick connected with the man’s side, pushing him away. Leon took the opportunity. Two kicks, one to the side of the knee that made the man’s stance buckle, and the next a roundhouse to the head, delivered with more force than you would have expected. The soldier went down without much fanfare.

Eight.

And then, away from the rest of the fight for just a moment, Leon looked up, seeing you there. Just as bruised and bloodied as he was, and staggeringly beautiful.

But there would be time to admire you later. The moment passed quickly, and he saw his thoughts reflected in your eyes. 

Let’s get to work.

You both turned, taking in the state of affairs before you. Just in time to see Valeria take a blow to the face, blood and spit flying from her mouth. Williams answered in retaliation, but she looked bad, too. The pair were surrounded, five against two. Alenko had two of his own friends to deal with, one of whom drove him backwards until his back hit the wall of the building behind him. But as the two closed in, Alenko reached down, collecting the fine, dry dirt from the ground beneath him and throwing it up into his attackers eyes. 

The final assailant was already heading your way, pausing for a moment as he took in the sight of you and Leon, realizing that his own allies were otherwise occupied. Leon almost felt bad for the poor fucker. 

Almost. 

Then he rushed you, anyway, aiming a kick at your stomach. One he telegraphed plainly. Smaller movements, Leon thought to himself, as you easily stepped to the side. One of your arms hooked under the man’s extended leg, the other bracing at his shoulder. And with the momentum of your movement and the strength you’d earned over months and years of service, you lifted him clean off the ground . . . and then threw him down on his back. In the distance, Alenko did something similar, lunging for his temporarily blinded opponent and reaching his arms around the man’s waist. He hoisted him up, then, and slammed him down hard. Leon, though, was almost too busy watching your back to notice that. 

Seven. 

You continued on, trying to get to Valeria and Williams. The man you’d thrown tried to get up, but Leon ended that impulse with a hard kick of his own, sending the man down into the ground once more. He groaned but didn’t move to get up again. 

Six. 

Williams yelped as she was pulled off her feet, and Leon looked up just in time to see her thrown over someone’s shoulder by her arm. Even in the dim light of evening, he could still see the dust kicked up as she hit the ground. Her eyes widened, and the man who’d thrown her brought his fist hard down against her nose, breaking it. She cried out again, grasping at her face and curling in on herself. When the culprit turned, you were met with the fury-filled stare of Taylor. 

And if you were met with fury, then when he looked at you and Leon, he was met with hellfire. 

Valeria, though, pushed herself up from the ground first, charging Taylor sideways. His concentration broken, it gave you time to focus on the other four he’d been fighting alongside. Only one of which stayed to help Taylor with Valeria. The other three turned your way, advancing quickly towards you and Leon. 

And for a few moments, as the end of the fight began, Leon felt unstoppable with you at his side. You both matched your three opponents step for step, blocking and evading and punishing those moves. This may not have been the fight you two had been training for, exactly, but it was the one you found yourselves in. One that gave Leon - and no doubt you as well - deja vu. Three against the two of you. You’d fought those odds before, when you were both more unbalanced. When you didn’t know each other as thoroughly as you did now. Even without your knives, even against men who meant to do you real, true harm, you and Leon moved as one. Defending one another, creating an opening that the other could use. It was . . . well, were it not for the lingering pain in his head and knuckles, it might have almost felt good. 

Therein lay the problem, he supposed. He should have known better by now to feel such confidence in something. To let himself think he was unstoppable.  

Because as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Leon glimpsed Valeria. There was a man on top of her, pinning her down, laying blow after blow that she raised her arms desperately to block. And, seeming to think his friend had it sorted, Taylor then turned his attention away from her, stalking your way.

The brawny man was bruised, like you and Leon were, but he had the benefit of not fighting three other people. 

You were in the middle of an exchange when Leon saw him coming, and he tried to call out a warning to you. 

What he hadn’t seen was the fifth aggressor knocking Alenko down, too. Leon didn’t see him beelining towards the two of you. He only felt the devastating blow as it made contact with his face, blood splattering in the air and onto the dirt as it brought him down, his vision going hazy. 

⧫⧫⧫

“Leon!” you called, but he fell just as your opponent did. Seeing him go down coupled with the inertia of the throw you’d used to get the man you were fighting away from you provided an opportunity. 

The man you’d been fighting rolled away from you- 

Five-

-and then you felt another punch seed pain across your face. Your cheek this time, luckily, but it still made the throbbing ache already present in your skull all the worse. You raised your arms as you saw another strike incoming, surprised when you blocked it successfully . . . but a worse surprise came when you realized you were the only one left standing, with Valeria still grappling with her own adversary. 

Four of them and one of you. 

You knew how this would likely end.

But you’d be damned if you weren’t going down swinging.

So you picked the one that had attacked Leon. The one who had hurt the man you cared for. Shoved hard into the man attacking you and rushed forward. You leapt, your knee slamming hard into his chest. Trying to get them away from Leon. To give him time. To hopefully let him get up. To keep the heat off Valeria as she fought her own battle. 

You fought hard as you always did. Blocking strikes one after another, retaliating with blows of your own. It was a losing battle, but you did all you could. There was even a moment of hope as you brought a man’s face down on your knee. Hope that spurred you on . . .

Right up until pain cracked across your left side in an all too familiar spot. Your ribs twinged in agony as one of your attackers landed a punch there, and it was just enough when combined with the beating you’d already taken to stun you. 

You thought you heard someone calling your name as another blow landed across your face. You tried to stay up, you really did, catching yourself on your hands and knees. Just like you tried to move when you saw the kick coming your way. 

Instead, you screamed as it made contact with your side.

You screamed as you felt those bones that never quite healed right starting to give way as you were kicked again, forcing you onto your side at last. 

Forcing you into the dirt. 

You could only lie there, lost in the pain, so different and so familiar. The knife had hurt more - infinitely more - but this . . . 

Footsteps. Boots by your head. You looked up and saw the owner of those boots standing over you, chiseled jaw set tight as he looked down at you. Taylor looked entirely too pleased with himself, and you wondered briefly if he was going to knock out one of your teeth, too. If he would kick and beat you until your face swelled. You could only brace for that, trying to ignore the brokenness of the bones in your side enough to raise a defense.

Something shifted a ways away from you. Someone - scrambling against the dirt. 

Then Taylor was being thrown away from you, and there Leon was, facing down the impossible for you again. 

You couldn’t let him face it alone. 

It hurt. God, did it hurt to move. To push yourself up from the ground. Your ribs begged you to stay down . . . but you’d never been good at listening to your own sense of self-preservation. So, with as much of a steadying breath as you could take, you brought your arms underneath your body and slowly - agonizingly - you began to rise. 

⧫⧫⧫

He always managed to find himself in this position, didn’t he? Leon, outnumbered and alone, with only the promise of pain to look forward to. Still, he didn’t regret it. Even as his jaw ached, as blood from his nose and broken skin on his forehead spilled down his face, he fought. Because if it could spare you some pain, he would take all the blows in the world. 

So he moved the way Krauser had taught him. The way you had taught him; fast and efficient, blocking what strikes he could with his head spinning the way it was. Punches and kicks rattled his body as he defended himself, desperately looking for an opening. 

And he got one, when a small figure rushed in from the sidelines, leaping through the air with a leg extended. 

Valeria snarled as her kick landed, the unexpected force of it knocking one of Leon’s attackers aside and allowing Leon himself to finish the job with a roundhouse of his own. 

Four.

He looked to where Valeria had been struggling with her own opponent, seeing him now lying on the ground, writhing in pain and clutching at his shoulder. She’d won then, and come to help him. 

Three.

Three versus two . . . or so Leon thought it would be, because when those remaining three began closing in, there was a roar from behind him. 

And then, with a speed he’d not seen and a pain-fed rage in your eyes, you were rushing forward. The soldier you attacked didn’t have any time to react, so caught off guard by your charge, that when you grabbed the back of his knees and pulled them out from under him, he couldn’t do anything to stop it. 

Valeria huffed a little laugh, and Leon had to pull his attention away from you, in awe of the utter ferocity in your movements. They were matched when Valeria blocked a punch from one of the remaining soldiers, and the two of them began a fight of their own. 

And then it was Leon facing down Taylor once again, the fragile man who’d started all of this. 

Leon was tired. Exhausted and hurting. But he wasn’t going to back down. Not now. 

“Last chance to walk away from this,” he said, tasting his own blood as he spoke. It was more mercy than he should have given, after seeing Taylor kicking you while you were down. After he caused you so much pain. So, Leon was almost glad when the soldier shook his head.

“Like hell.” 

Leon nodded. Raised his arms. “You’re a slow learner, aren’t you?”

And finally, the end of this mess began. Taylor charged forward, and Leon met him halfway.  

⧫⧫⧫

You were in agony. Every move hurt more than the last, but you kept going - kept bringing your fists down against the man you had pinned beneath you. It was brutal, but you’d lost the part of you that cared. Buried beneath the pain of it all. 

Show no mercy.

So, once you saw the fight go out in the man you were on top of, breaking his nose beneath your fist, you clumsily got to your feet, your body protesting against it once more. 

Two.

Two left, and as you stood, you glimpsed Valeria kicking her leg up, cracking into her opponent’s jaw. Then she arced the kick back down, and her heel struck the back of the man’s head, sending him sprawling into the dust. 

One.

Taylor was the last. 

And he was facing down Leon, swinging fists with wild abandon. It hadn’t been enough in sparring, and it wasn’t enough now. 

Leon blocked a high attack, then wrapped his arm around Taylor’s. Striking his stomach once, twice, three times. Valeria rushed in then, delivering a backfist that should have made the man see stars. 

He wasn’t done, though. Idiots didn’t know when to quit. 

Leon was ready, though, when he tried to move for another attack, and so were you. Your boy, your Leon . . . were it not for the pain in your ribs, you would have smiled wide as you saw him turn over his shoulder, his leg extending out. The kick landed on Taylor’s shoulder, sending him spinning and stumbling away. Right towards you.

With a cry, you outstretched your arm and moved forward. The pain was worth it to see Taylor get clotheslined to the ground, his back and head cratering into the earth. 

There was a moment of stillness, then, as Taylor groaned, weakly turning over onto his side. You watched from above him as he lay there, pathetic and defeated. Him and all his eleven allies, the men who’d thought you would all be easy prey. 

Twelve.

You’d beaten twelve trained combatants. 

The thought made you huff a laugh - and then you instantly regretted it when your ribs shot pain through you as punishment. 

But you sure as shit weren’t going to let Taylor see that moment of weakness. So, as Leon and Valeria moved to your side, observing your shared work, you fought to keep a straight - if bruised - face. Especially as Taylor started to push himself up once more.

“Stay down,” Leon warned, his voice firm. Like steel. 

Taylor, though, didn’t listen. You and Leon were both happy to let Valeria do the honors, and with a final punch as he tried to rise, Taylor was knocked out cold. “Dulces sueños, cabrón.”

It was over. 

And fuck, you were hurting for it. 

You grimaced at last, taking a moment to breathe. As the adrenaline faded, you were left with the aches of the fight. The sharp, stabbing pain in your side. The throbbing as your eye swelled more and more. You must have looked a sight, but your squad mates were no different. 

Leon was no different. 

Seeing him like that, seeing him bruised and weary . . . it made a mix of emotions bubble in your gut. Emotions you weren’t ready for. 

Emotions you didn’t get to really feel, because of cosmically hilarious timing. “What the fuck is going on here?” Commander Cortez sounded more furious than you’d heard him yet. Then again, you were standing over a dozen of his men, all passed out or in various states of immobility. 

No time to celebrate your victory, then. But when had life ever thrown you a bone like that? 

Chapter Text

It had been a long time since you’d had a room to yourself. 

The last one had been a hospital, too, come to think of it. Maybe that was why you hated sitting there with an all too familiar pain in your ribs, staring at white walls and trying to block out the droning of the machines around you. You’d rather have been yelled at the night of, rather than the promise that “you would all talk about it in the morning” that Cortez had given you. You’d rather listen to him scream at you all than the doctor’s stupid questions for you. 

“How would you rate your pain on a scale of one to ten?” 

Ten being what? Agony? White-hot and unbearable? The kind that made you want to die? Or just the “really bad” that most people associated with “ten” on that scale?

“Four,” you answered, lying. Four was maybe generous for the bruises forming along your body. It fit the way your eye was swollen, almost shut beneath the ice pack you held against it. The pain from your ribs each time you breathed made up the difference. That pain was probably a seven on whatever stupid scale the doctor had in mind, but you weren’t about to admit that. Not because of pride, but because . . . well, if there was any damage to your ribs like you suspected there was, then you would be spending a whole lot more time in this room. It would mean no more training until you were healed.

That wasn’t an option, as far as you were concerned, and you’d worked through pain like this before. 

You knew it wasn’t smart, but you held in what you felt as the doctor examined your injuries anyway. He made you go through a range of motions slowly, checking if anything was broken, annoyingly paying special attention to where previous damage was noted. When he checked your ribs, you fought to keep an impassive expression. To hide the pain away as you’d learned to all those months ago. Hoping it would let you return to the barracks. Instead, you were sentenced to a night in that same, empty and lonely room. So, once the doctor left you alone with your thoughts, you quickly found yourself drifting into a dark spiral. 

Fuck, it hurt. 

Not so bad when you didn’t move. Or breathe too deep. But, you know, those things were a bit essential to everyday life, weren’t they? 

All because you hadn’t been paying attention. Or, rather, because you’d been too slow. Krauser would have condemned your performance, victory or not, because now you were weakened. Hiding it from the doctor had kept you from a full examination. From knowing the full extent of the damage, and you were grateful for that. 

If you didn’t know how bad it was, it was just pain. Just something to push through. 

Still, it didn’t put you at ease enough to prevent you from pacing in that empty hospital room that night, when you should have been asleep. You needed to do something other than lie down. You needed to keep your mind off the pain you were feeling. Your hand, at some point, had fished the dog tags out from under your shirt, your thumb running obsessively over the indentation of letters and numbers, just as your mind ran obsessively over the fight. Over what you could have done differently. How you could have been better. 

Because you weren’t the only one who’d been hurt. You weren’t the only one who’d been sent to the hospital that night. 

You thought of the bruises that your squad had been left with. The way Alenko had to be dragged up from the dirt. Or Valeria’s bloody smile and bruised face. Williams’ broken nose. 

It brought on guilt in you, just as familiar as the hospital room you paced in. 

No guilt from that fight was worse than the memory of red dripping down lips that you had kissed a dozen times, or the bruises painting a face that you’d come to adore.

You should have been faster. Not just for your own sake-

A knock from outside eventually pulled you from that tempest of thoughts. You hadn’t expected the doctors back tonight . . . 

But when you opened the door, it wasn’t a doctor’s face that greeted you. Rather, a pair of blue eyes met yours, set under a low and scraped brow. His face was flecked with dried blood along his cheek and beneath his nose, like he’d wiped some of it away but not all. His bottom lip was swollen a little. His skin along his cheekbone and above his brow was darkening with a deep purple, a stark contrast to his light skin. The second day you’d really met Leon, you’d apologized for gifting him a bruise. Now, all you wanted to do was tell him you were sorry you couldn’t have prevented these ones. 

Ironic, you knew, because you’d so long told him not to worry when you were hurt. 

Seemed like neither of you were doing a good job of keeping with that mentality.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked, looking at you with so much concern. 

“No,” you answered honestly. “Couldn’t sleep.” Not that you’d even tried. 

 Leon nodded, giving you his best attempt at a smile. “Well, I know it’s past visiting hours but . . . want some company?”

You didn’t need to answer with words. You just stepped to the side, letting him in. That was all the invitation he needed.

⧫⧫⧫

He had only lasted a few minutes in his own room once the doctors were gone, and then the lingering thought of you in pain had driven Leon to leave. He crept back down the hallway of the hospital, fully aware that there were cameras. Fully aware that anyone could see him going to your room. 

He didn’t care. 

He needed to know that you were alright. 

And so he ended up sitting beside you on the hospital bed, trying not to stare at the black eye forming on you, or the way your chest rose and fell so shallowly as you attempted to not aggravate an old injury. Instead, his eyes were caught on the three dog tags that hung outside your shirt. You hadn’t hidden them away again as you usually did, letting them glint silver in the room’s harsh light. Your name on the first two and then the third . . . he could almost make it out. Reynolds. 

Your Captain? 

A question for another time, because there was a more pressing one on Leon’s mind. 

One that had to do with another memory you carried, this one etched in flesh and bone instead of metal. If he hadn’t been knocked down in that fight, if he’d stayed by your side for all of it . . . “Are they broken?” he asked, looking then to that scar tissue hidden beneath your shirt, spanning your side to your stomach. 

By your expression, broken again might have been the better word choice. 

“Dunno.” 

He blinked, looking over at you slowly. You didn’t look back at him, like a kid who knew they were about to get scolded. 

“You don’t know?” Leon asked, trying to quell his worry somehow. 

It was a losing effort when you shrugged - an effort that forced you to hide another wince. “They cleared me for exercises tomorrow.” 

“Because you hid the pain?”

“Because I can handle it.” Your voice was sharp, your guard up, but it sounded more like you were trying to prove that point to yourself than to Leon. He knew it probably wouldn’t be worth it to argue the point with you.

So he wouldn’t argue. 

He reached down, unlacing his boots first and kicking them off. Then he slid off the bed and started to unlace yours, too. You tried to move your leg away, looking down at him with a furrowed brow. “Fuck are you doing?” you asked, almost sounding flustered. 

Leon just looked up at you and smiled. “Shouldn’t sleep with shoes on the bed.” 

Your lips parted as you watched Leon work, and you almost scoffed. “I’m not tired-” you lied, but Leon didn’t let you finish the sentence. 

He'd taken care of a child for a few months after Raccoon City, and somehow Sherry had been more agreeable than you were now. “Doesn’t change the fact that you need to rest.” He rose again once your boots were discarded, settling in on your side - the one that wasn’t hurt. He brought an arm around your back and braced the other at your shoulder. “Now come here.” 

You looked at him for a moment, eyes searching his own as surprise washed over you. Then, building some of your defenses back up, you huffed again. “Giving commands to a ranking officer, rookie?” 

Rookie? Oh, you didn’t call him that usually. You must have been really caught off guard if that was the defense you were going with. And if you were off balance, that meant Leon was one step closer to victory. You’d taught him that. So, he nodded. “Sure seems that way,” he grinned, even if his swollen lip didn’t appreciate the expression. You tried to glower at him, tried to make it seem like you didn’t appreciate that smirk either, but he knew this game now. He knew when your glares were real and when they weren’t. This glare that you were giving him now was the latter. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumbled, and Leon knew that he’d won.

He felt you relent under his touch, and you let him carefully guide you back onto the bed. The mattress was softer than the bunks he’d gotten used to sleeping on, and as it sank beneath his weight and your own, Leon felt like it was going to entomb you both for a moment. Instead, he felt his aching body ease as he laid back with you in his arms. 

You, he could tell, took more time. Whether it was the pain or something else, something hidden in your mind or heart, you were stiff for a long while as he held you. It gave Leon just enough doubt in his choice to look over at you, voicing his worry. “Is this okay?” he asked, and your eyes flickered to his, unable to hold the contact. 

You took a moment to answer, like you were making up your mind. Then, eventually, “. . . yeah.”

Leon smiled, feeling his heart warm, washing away the violence you’d both just been through. 

You lay like that for a while, returning your gaze to the ceiling as you let him hold you. The silence between the two of you was comfortable. Safe. A moment of peace after so much brutality. 

But your mind seemed to be stuck there just as much as his was, he could see it in that thousand-yard stare. And eventually-

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, still staring straight up. “That you got hurt.” 

Leon’s eyebrows rose, and he just looked at you with parted lips. This, coming from the soldier who had told him that seeing people beaten was something he would have to get used to. You, who had so often seen your own injuries as lessons or obstacles to move past, who asked for no pity or quarter. “You’re sorry that I got hurt?” He might have laughed, were it not for how serious you were. How utterly you seemed to condemn yourself for the bruises on Leon’s skin. Just as he condemned himself for the fact that you grimaced every time you took too deep of a breath. And yet, you were sorry that you hadn’t protected him. “I’m the one who should be saying that to you.” 

You shook your head, looking over to him at last. “No, Leon. You . . .” Your eyes searched his own, and even with the black eye, even with all the damage along your skin, you were beautiful. “You were fucking brilliant.” 

And just like that, you made Leon smile. You had a way of doing that. 

“Maybe we were both fucking brilliant,” he offered, pulling you carefully closer to him. “I mean, we kicked their asses, right?” 

You nodded and laughed and didn’t show the pain it must have caused. “Yeah, we did.” Another moment passed, and then you shifted, turning onto your good side and reaching your arm over him. 

That movement, he worried, would hurt you more. “You don’t have to-” 

“Stop worrying.” 

Leon huffed, settling in. “I will . . . when you rest.” 

“Then you’ll worry yourself to death, I guess.”  

With a little laugh, Leon held you closer and leaned in. “I could think of worse ways to go.” The kiss hurt a little, what with his damaged lip, but if you could push past the pain for this moment, then so could he. 

And you did push past that pain, kissing him again after he pulled away. You tasted a little like blood, but then he imagined he did too. It didn’t seem to bother either of you, your bruised bodies pressed together on the hospital bed, what hot blood remained in you from the fight and the days without a touch turned the kiss from sweet to hungry in a matter of moments. 

He’d never had an opportunity like this with you. Never had the privacy of a room, let alone a bed. It was hard for Leon not to give in. To start kissing his way down your neck, to strip your clothes off and see you - really see you the way he wanted to. 

But even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself, you were hurting. So, he pulled away a second time, even as you chased him with your lips. “Hey,” he protested, even if it felt anathema to everything he wanted. “You need-”

“Rest, I know.” The words were whispered against his throat as you moved down to kiss him there. And even if you knew what you needed, it seemed you had no intention of seeking it. 

Lord give me strength, was all Leon could think, but he gently pushed you away, just enough to look you in the eyes. “Come on, for me? I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

Your gaze became less intense, then, and you sighed, nodding at last. “Alright,” you acquiesced, relaxing back into Leon’s arms. “Just wanna remind you we won’t have a bed to ourselves for a while again . . .” you said, but you made no moves to continue things, just reached up to run your fingers through his hair. 

“Trust me, the thought crossed my mind,” he admitted, chuckling softly. “But it’s okay.” 

“Speak for yourself.”

“Get the doctors to give a definitive ‘no’ on the broken ribs, and then we’ll talk.” 

“Talking isn’t the bulk of what I’d want to do, if I got that confirmation,” you said with your usual dry humor, but let your head rest against the pillows anyway. 

Leon laughed, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek, humming as you played with his hair. He reached his arm around you, breathing steadily and he just . . . looked at you. He took in the features that, once, had hidden mysteries and questions but now felt like home. Closest thing he had to one, now. You would have said that was dangerous, he knew, but in that moment, he savored the thought. The feeling of you holding each other, even if your bodies were hurting. 

And he knew, as he looked at you then in that hospital bed, that he was in love with you. That you’d somehow begun to heal the wounds Ada left behind by being there for him. By supporting him. By listening to his hurts and jumping into the fray for him despite your own injuries. By letting him in. Letting him see beneath the armor you wore. Letting him make you laugh and making him laugh in turn. 

He loved you.

But he also knew that you weren’t ready to hear that. Or, at least, he didn’t think you were. That was alright with him, though. He didn’t need to say it - wasn't sure if he could say it, anyway. Even if they were healing wounds, he still thought of Ada too often. Still thought of that look she'd given him when he'd confronted her with her lies, like he was some poor bastard who hadn't noticed the gun pressed to his back until it was too late. He knew you were nothing like her, now, but the idea of bearing his heart was still one he approached with caution. With any luck, though, you already knew. So, rather than voice his feelings then, he just smiled at you. “Get some sleep.” 

“Keep giving me orders, pretty boy,” you chuckled, your voice low with exhaustion that looked like it was finally setting in. “See what happens.” Leon laughed, because it sounded like the threat of a good time, to him. 

“Don’t like me stepping on your toes, Sergeant?” 

“Just think you need to learn to respect the chain of command, that’s all.” 

“I wouldn’t hold your breath on that one.” 

You laughed this time, soft and gentle. He felt your hand moving more slowly in his hair. “You’re not gonna stay all night, are you?” You sounded torn between wanting that very thing and knowing it couldn’t happen. Not in a place as public as a hospital, where doctors would be checking up on you both in the morning. 

“No. But I’m not going anywhere until you’re asleep.” 

You deadpanned, and it only made Leon smile wider. “That's a terrible incentive.” 

“This what you meant when you said you used to be a pain in the ass?” Leon asked, raising a brow and pulling you closer, bringing your forehead to rest against his.

“Alright, alright,” you said, looking away from him before finally closing your eyes. “But you gotta get some rest yourself tonight, yeah?” 

Leon hummed, nodding. “I will.”

“Good,” you murmured. Then, after a while . . . “Thank you.” 

Another smile and a gentle kiss, and Leon nodded. “Any time.” 

And so Leon held you, and was held in return, his eyes staying open as he watched you fall asleep. As he drank in every detail of your waning focus. He watched the knot in your brow come undone. The tension in your shoulders relaxed. Your guard falling utterly and completely. You looked so . . . peaceful. More than he’d ever seen of you. And he wished he could stay all night, because he knew that peace wouldn't last. He knew the past would come for you in your dreams, just as it always did for both of you. He wanted more than anything to be there for you when it did. To help you and be held and see if maybe you could chase your nightmares away together. 

But he also knew that he had to leave eventually, so he pressed another kiss to your temple.

He loved you.

He smiled to himself as he thought it, because part of him hadn’t thought to feel love. Not after all that had happened. But he felt it with you, and he wanted to hold onto that. In the face of whatever horrors awaited him in the future, whatever pain, he had that. 

And you had him.

⧫⧫⧫

You hadn't really been aware of falling asleep. Only that you were in Leon's arms one moment and the next you felt the bed dip. You felt his arms pulling away from you . . . and you felt a last kiss to your cheek. Too sweet for his own good. Some things never change.

And then the door closed and you were left alone again. 

You weren't awake enough to fully explore the thought that came to you then. All you knew was that you missed his warmth once it was gone, and you held onto the memory of it desperately. 

You'd never have thought to have any good memories made laying in a hospital. It was good to once again be proven wrong. 

Chapter Text

The meeting with Commander Cortez didn’t go well, and it was partially your own fault. Only partially. Valeria had started it, but you hadn’t helped matters. The blame was something you and the other four would share, as well as the punishment. 

You were already in a strange mood - the confusing happiness of falling asleep in Leon’s arms the night before combined with the sometimes dizzying pain in your ribs made for an interesting morning. You’d had to go for round two of hiding that pain from the doctors, and then an extended run of it as you marched towards your reprimanding. You did your best to look dignified when you arrived, but you were sure that you just ended up looking beat up and pissed off instead. 

You and the rest of your squad had that in common. 

Black and blue patches had been put on display over all of them. Williams’ nose had been reset but was thoroughly purple and inflamed. Alenko had an eye swollen more shut than your own. Valeria was nursing her own bruises, her lip split, and Leon . . . his own inflicted war-paint had darkened since last night. 

Last night, when he’d held you as you fell asleep-

“Anyone else feel like we’re about to be read the riot act?” Williams had said as you all waited outside the Commander’s office, and you couldn’t help but agree with her. 

Then a few moments later, you were in an office - more spacious than the one Krauser had on your own base, and with no music playing despite the little radio off to the side.

You really wished that the mini radio was playing. That way there might be something pleasant about this encounter. 

You were met with a disappointed stare, and you certainly knew you weren’t about to get a pat on the back. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but for the fact that Taylor was absent from the meeting. Missing out on the Commander’s disappointment. You hoped it was because Cortez would talk to him and his cronies separately. Or, better yet, because he was still knocked out cold and had been left for later. That didn’t make you any less angry at the way the Commander looked at the five of you like you had been the ones who fucked up. 

To the victors went the blame, you supposed. 

“Look,” Cortez said, and you knew that there was about to be some bullshit thrown your way, “I know that Taylor has been antagonizing you all-” 

“Oh, antagonizing is a nice way of saying it.” Valeria interrupted, and you watched the Commander’s face become even more severe. 

He glared at her, and you wondered for a moment if you were about to fight a Commander, too. “I’m aware of his behavior, Soto. I’m also aware that you broke one of my men’s arms last night.” 

Oh. That was news. No wonder he looked pissed off. 

“One of the men who tried to jump us, you mean?” It was Leon this time, and you felt cautious pride swell in you, just as sure as you felt another surge of agony from your ribs as you took in a breath. Good to know it wasn’t just Krauser’s authority he had a problem with. 

Cortez didn’t share your appreciation of Leon’s sharp tongue, though. 

“Yes. A dozen men who will be missing out on important instruction because of this little incident.” 

Maybe it was because you were in pain, struck in an old wound that was a source of trouble at the best of times. Or maybe it was more a case of being pissed that Cortez wasn’t cutting you all slack for being the targets of the attack that happened last night. Or, perhaps, it was actually the relatively good mood you’d woken up in. Maybe we were both fucking brilliant. Leon’s words echoed in your mind, and you didn’t just feel that way about your performance or his. Even if there were bruises and broken noses, your squad won. You’d faced down impossible odds, and none of you deserved this shit. So, you felt an old part of yourself come back to life as you met a commanding officer’s eye and didn’t flinch. If this conversation had been building towards sympathy on Cortez’s part, it likely died in its crib as you opened your mouth and let the scathing words on the tip of your tongue loose. 

“Train them to fight better. Then maybe they’d be able to report for drills.” 

Your squad mates, those that weren’t used to you saying much, all snapped to look at you. Leon’s lips, meanwhile, curved up in a little smile. You’d been spending entirely too much time with him. 

The Commander’s eyes just flashed. “And none of you five will be reporting, either. You can all spend the day cleaning around the base, since you’re all in such good health. And you, Sergeant,” he branded you with a hot glare, “can drop and give me twenty right now.” 

And just like that, even if there was no way for him to know the state of your injury - by your own fault - Commander Cortez made it onto your shit-list. Still, you’d been given an order. 

Good test of how bad things really are, you thought to yourself. 

And then you were in sharp and stabbing pain for the next few seconds. Twenty push-ups would have been nothing to you normally - Krauser had seen to that personally. You weren’t sure if the Major would be proud or furious if he knew what you were doing now. Hiding an injury to keep on training. Whatever the case, even as gravity put pressure on those likely-damaged bones, you set your face in stone and pushed yourself back up. Then you did it nineteen more times, wishing at least that the little radio was playing music as it would be if this were Krauser meting out the punishment. 

Just get through it . . .

Your arms shook, not from the effort but from the pain. You hid your grimace, any expression of pain . . . 

This wasn’t going to break you. It was all pain that you’d felt before. 

Your breathing was more ragged than it should have been by the end of it, your eyes set in a hard and fiery stare. But you managed it. As you forced yourself through the last pushup, you clenched your jaw tight, and stood. And as you met Cortez’s stare, you felt something in you stir. Something long since buried. 

The urge to cause trouble. 

“Keep that attitude in check, Sergeant,” Cortez warned. “Same goes for the rest of you.” 

You nodded once. Repressed another remark and instead answered with the usual line. “Yes sir.”  

None of you complained when the punishments were meted out. You, at least, had expected something like it, especially with how Valeria and Williams’ earlier confrontation with Taylor had been handled. You’d all be cleaning the next day, and then you’d been put on watch duty for the rest of the week. Then, after a good scolding about the need for unity and respect between branches of the Army, you were all dismissed. 

Leon wasted no time, even though his concern was perhaps more obvious than you would like. “Are you alright?” he asked as soon as the group of you were out of Cortez’s office. 

And even if you were still very much in pain, you shrugged and let a grin curl your lips. You didn’t have to lie as you answered. “Yeah. I’m good. Hell of a night, that’s all.” You knew he’d understand what you meant.  

Leon looked at you, very clearly concerned, but something in that concern softened. Shifted. “Hell of a night,” he agreed. 

“Hell of a day ahead, too,” Williams grumbled. She didn’t seem to share your newfound contentment. 

“We’ll all live,” you said. You didn’t care about a day of cleaning. 

At least, not until Valeria reached up to loop an arm around her shoulders. “Cheer up, princesa,” the shorter woman said. “Bruises aren’t just teachers, you know. These ones?” She pointed to her own cheek, where a purple splotch stained her tanned skin, and smiled. “These are badges of honor.” 

⧫⧫⧫

Valeria proved to be right, Leon found. People’s eyes were drawn to you all by the bruises. Visual proof of the stories circulating Fort Benning. Twelve against five. It was quite the tale. One Leon was all too happy to let others hear. He wasn’t one for tall tales normally - especially ones concerning him - but now? He was glad that the story of you five putting your attackers in the hospital seemed to finally set the record straight. The message was clear:

The STRATCOM visitors were not to be fucked with. 

And a damn good thing, too, because even if you were good at hiding it, at pushing through it, Leon could see that you were hurting. You were lucky that you weren’t under Krauser’s instruction for another week. Both because he’d have you doing twice the physical exercises, twice the combat drills, and because he would have been furious with you for hiding your injury in the first place. At least, Leon hoped that would be the case. He hoped the Major would be able to talk some sense into you when you all returned, because no matter how often Leon tried, his words didn’t seem to take much root. 

You would just tell him you were fine. That he shouldn’t worry. And you said it with such conviction that he almost believed you. 

But you had a week left at Fort Benning. A week where the watch duty you’d all been assigned would prevent you from resting as much as you needed to. He knew you were tough. He remembered your words about letting you learn from your hurts, your assurances that you would be fine. He might have even done the same in your position.

That didn’t stop him from worrying when he saw you grimace through cav scout drills, or hiss when you loaded a shell into the tank, though. It wasn’t just some sense of him wanting to protect you, he didn’t want you to cause any permanent damage. No matter how often he spoke to you of it, though, you wouldn’t budge. 

Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one who noticed something was wrong. 

⧫⧫⧫

“So, I’ve been thinking . . .” Alenko leaned towards you at lunch, and that tone of voice made you look up from your food with a raised brow. He had never been nervous around you, being a few years your senior, but he seemed a little apprehensive. Hell, there was a shift in energy at your table as he started, with Williams glancing up from the water she was drinking across from you. Still, Alenko spoke plainly as he voiced just what had been on his mind . . . and you found your eyes widening. “I want you to have command for the final assessments. In the tank.” 

Alenko loved the tanks. He loved driving them, he loved issuing commands in them. You knew instantly that something was off to make him request this. And besides . . . “You’ve had more time in command. I’ll load the shells like usual. Like we’ve been practicing.” 

Something flashed behind the older soldier’s eyes, and he glanced away for just a moment. Like he was looking for help from those at his side. 

He got it when Williams answered. “You’re just as good. And Krauser always tells us we shouldn’t get stuck in one way of thinking. That we’ll have to work with people and command styles we’re unfamiliar with,” she offered, and it sounded suspiciously like she’d been thinking of these arguments for a while. “Besides, you’ve been giving us directions for weeks now. Just with knives.” 

The points she made were all fair, but it still didn’t make it all sit with you any better. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to switch up our positions if we want to do well-” 

“Not a good idea for you to be lifting shells with fucked up ribs, either.” Valeria cut in, and your eyes flashed as you snapped to look at her. The other three around you did the same, with Leon looking ready to reprimand her for butting in. You, in the meantime, just wanted to know how the hell-

“What?” she asked, looking between the three others and then to you. “Don’t act like you weren’t struggling to get through twenty push-ups back in Cortez’ office. Shaking like a leaf-” 

She’d managed to get you in a sore spot, and so your response was sharper than it should have been. “Fuck you, Soto,” you said, and felt guilty for it instantly. 

Of course, her self-satisfied smirk made that guilt wane pretty quickly. “Not interested, Sarge. Not that you could do a good job in the state you’re in-”

“The point is,” Alenko interjected, ever the peace-maker, “we’ve seen you’re hurt. And you taking command would make for a lower chance of further injury.” 

And then, after a moment, another voice cut in. One that had been silent up until now. Leon. “And you won’t do the team any good if you can’t heal.” 

There it was. 

The truth you’d been avoiding. It made you tense, your ribs throbbing as you sucked in a sharp breath. Here you were, looking around at your squad, your team, and feeling somehow more overwhelmed and outnumbered than when Taylor and his comrades had rushed you. And as you looked at your squad, you wanted to be furious. You wanted to explode at them for doubting you, for sticking their noses where they didn’t belong. You really, really wanted to feel that anger. 

“I’m guessing you put them up to this?” you said, looking towards Leon because he was the one who you’d confessed your injury to. He was the one who had been begging you to slow down. In your embarrassed anger, your first thought was that he’d gone behind your back and asked your team to do this. 

Then guilt flooded you when you saw his eyes and you knew you’d bit back when there was no threat to you at all. “No,” he shook his head. “I wasn’t in on this one, but . . . I agree with them.”

You stared at him for a moment, and then at the rest. At the squad that was concerned for your well-being, even if you didn’t want them to be. 

“Look, Sarge,” Alenko said, his expression becoming easier. “We trust you. You haven’t led us wrong in practice, you won’t lead us wrong here, either. Give yourself a chance.” 

You looked at him, then at Leon, then the rest. It was democracy that included everyone’s opinions but your own, it seemed, and you knew there would be no real use arguing. So, you nodded once. “Fine.” 

Leon gave you a grateful smile and you tried to hold on to that anger, that frustration. It didn’t quite work, though, because . . . well, because it had been a long time since so many people had been concerned for you. You’d almost forgotten what it was like, to have an entire group looking out for your best interests. Even if you disagreed. And you knew that Leon was the one who, above all, cared for you. That he was right. 

Didn’t mean you weren’t going to have a discussion with him, though.

So, when the time came, you climbed into the tank in the commander’s seat, taking a breath and looking around you. Preparing yourself. Assessments were nearly upon you. Your team was relying on you, now as they had in the fight. You had won then, and you had to help them win this now. After all, even if you all had won that fight, even if you’d all proven your prowess, you were here to learn. To become better soldiers. 

Being given yet another opportunity to show up Taylor and his still-healing friends was just icing on the cake. 

Pettiness wasn’t something you’d felt for a long time, but motivation was motivation, you supposed. And after Cortez had punished you all for the fight, even if you’d expected it, you sort of wanted to stick it to the Commander, too.

And over those remaining days at Fort Benning, you felt yet another aspect of yourself reawakening. One you hadn’t trusted yourself with much since Finland. 

The leader you might have been, if things had been different. 

The leader that you still could be, you realized.

Because, as you guided your partners through the course, as you sat out during sparring sessions but still gave notes and observations, you found that missing part of yourself. By the time the final assessments rolled around and your time at Fort Benning came to a close, you didn’t worry about your ability to lead. You didn’t let your mind talk you into yet another dark spiral. You pushed through, just as you pushed through the pain of your injury. You just did what needed to be done, and when you all loaded into the great metal machine for the final time, you were ready. You gave Williams the instructions she needed, directing the tank’s path. With Leon manning the guns and Alanko loading the ammunition, they listened to you just as they did when you gave a correction in sparring. You worked as a group, just as you had in the fight. You weren’t a collection of skilled individuals. You were a unit. Deadly and determined. And when the time came, you directed your crew through the final assessment, and let them guide you in turn. 

It wasn’t exemplary, but it was more than enough for you all to pass. Cortez was begrudging in his congratulations, no doubt because Taylor and some of his men were still out - or facing discharge, as you found out. 

You didn’t care about Cortez’s approval, though. You had all the approval you needed. And you made sure your crew, your squad, had the same. “So,” Williams smiled, and you could tell she was proud of her performance. As she should have been. “How’d we do?” She was asking you. Asking for your opinion. 

And you looked from her, to Alenko, and then to Leon at last. And that feeling of pride you’d reserved for Leon so often of late extended to the rest of them, too. “Damn fine work,” you nodded. 

“Not bad so bad yourself, Sarge,” Leon said to you, and you raised your brow.

“That’s commander, to you,” you corrected, and because you never could fully manage it with him, your attempt at hiding your grin failed. You weren’t so mad that you couldn’t hide it, now though. Because, honestly? It was a pretty good day. 

⧫⧫⧫

A good day, but an even better night, Leon found, there on his final watch shift at Fort Benning. He stood in a guard tower, looking over the base that had housed you and him and all the rest of your squad for the last few weeks. When dawn broke, you would all pile up in the Humvees and head home. 

Leon was . . . well, he wasn’t exactly happy about it, but he would be glad to be back to some semblance of normalcy. Even if that normalcy was Krauser finding new and strenuous ways to test you all. 

Of course, he had to make it through his last shift before that was even a concern. A shift that - like all the others he’d been forced to endure as punishment for the fight - seemed like it would be completely and utterly uneventful. 

But then he heard someone coming up the watchtower to join him, and he knew that he was about to be proven wrong. 

“Thought you already had your watch,” Leon marveled as you emerged from the shadows, and you shrugged. 

“Traded with Valeria,” you said, moving in beside him, keeping your voice down. 

Valeria. Of course. The unlikely supporter of yours and Leon’s escapades. And Leon was sure it had nothing to do with the fact that your shift happened to precede Williams’. Nothing at all. Still, Valeria could have whatever reasons she wanted, as far as Leon was concerned. So long as it meant spending time with you alone. And as you leaned against the railing, your back to Fort Benning and your arms braced back on either side of you, Leon couldn’t help but feel he might have owed Valeria for this. 

But then again, maybe this was her making up for knocking him out cold the night of assessments, all those weeks ago.

Whatever the reason, though, you were here and that was enough. 

“Wanted to apologize,” you began, “for snapping at you, back when Alenko brought up switching with me.” 

Leon just shook his head. He’d put the moment aside almost as soon as it happened. “Don’t worry about it. Though . . .” he smirked at you then, raising a brow as he leaned a little closer. “I’m a little hurt that you took advice from them about taking it easy and not me.” 

 You laughed, then, soft enough that it wouldn’t hurt you, and looked back at him. “Yeah, well, they didn’t really give me a choice, did they?” 

“Guess not.”

“I am going to,” you said after a minute, your voice more serious. Leon quirked a brow at you, but you went on before he needed to ask for clarification. “Take your advice, I mean. I’ll go to the med staff when we’re back at base. Tell them what happened, see if there’s anything wrong.” 

Leon . . . hadn’t been expecting that. After months of knowing you, of you refusing to give yourself a break, of you pushing through pain no matter how bad . . . “You’re serious?” 

You fixed a look on him. One that said ‘don’t sound so pleased’. “You were right,” you admitted. “When you said I wouldn’t be a help to anyone if I let this get worse.” 

As you said it, he could hear defeat in your words, resignation of something you didn’t want to admit. But you were admitting it, and Leon was all too glad of it. “That’s good,” he said, moving closer to you, resting a hand on your shoulder. 

“It’s shit,” you grumbled. “But . . . it’s got to be done.” 

Leon laughed again and nodded. “True enough.” 

“Not used to people other than you looking out for me,” you finally admitted after a while, your eyes fixed on the floor. “Almost forgot what it was like. To be part of a squad.”

He knew what you meant. Not a squad you worked with out of necessity only, but one you could rely on. A group that had your back, and you had theirs. It was a quiet sentiment, but one that Leon could feel was heavy for you. One that was heavy for him, too. Because he’d thought he'd be alone through all of this. He’d been alright with it at first, too. If he only had himself to look out for, there was only one person to fail. 

Things were different now. All because of you. 

A peaceful quiet settled between the two of you then, as you looked out towards the base stretched out in front of you, blanketed in darkness beyond the eyes of the spotlights. The place that had, quite literally, kicked the shit out of both of you, but might have given you something more in return. “Hell of a vacation,” Leon eventually said, and you laughed. He was glad that it was a sound he heard more and more often these days. 

“If this was your idea of a vacation, Kennedy, then I feel sorry for you.” 

“My idea of a vacation is somewhere quiet and warm,” Leon defended, “but I’ve learned to take what I can get.” 

With a hum from you, another blanket of quiet settled between the two of you. It was comfortable, and Leon was happy to spend the last few minutes of his shift in it. Wasn’t enough for you, though, because a moment later you moved. You pushed yourself up from the railing and walked towards him. Leon felt his heart beat hard in his chest when he thought you were going to kiss him . . . but then it beat even harder when you sank to your knees in front of him. 

He murmured your name, caught between you and the railing, his eyes going wide. 

You didn’t seem deterred, though. “If this is a vacation, might as well make the last night memorable, right?” 

Oh, god.

His belt buckle came undone beneath your fingertips and he was glad of the dark to hide the bright red blush that came to his face. “Not . . . not worried someone will see?” he asked, and you shrugged. 

“Know the great thing about being assigned watch duty for a week?” you asked, your voice a purr. 

Leon could hardly contain his excitement as he answered. “You know where the cameras are blind?” 

“Dead on.”

“You’re sure you’re okay to do this?” It was a hard question to ask, while you were in the midst of undoing his pants. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself-”

“Then I’ll be careful.”

“I’m serious-”

“So am I.” You looked up at him, your movements stalling. “I’ll be careful. You helped me relax after the fight. Let me do this for you.”

God, he fucking loved you. 

“You know, I’m still technically supposed to be on watch,” he pointed out. 

You tilted your head, then, and the little light that slipped into the guard tower from the spotlights overhead showed him your expression. It was more carefree than he’d ever seen you, and it was a sight he would never forget. Of course, he wasn’t likely to forget the shrug you gave him, or the words you murmured, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Then be a good boy and watch.” 

And just like that, the flush under his skin turned into an inferno. 

⧫⧫⧫

Commander Cortez bid your squad a strained goodbye. He wouldn’t be accompanying you all back to base, it seemed, and Leon was perfectly alright with that. Instead, it would be some other ranking officer, who looked entirely pleased about the opportunity for a break. Even better was seeing Taylor’s men standing in the distance, watching you all load into the Humvees. No Taylor, though, given the disciplinary action he was facing. 

Leon was sad about that one. He’d have liked to wave that asshole goodbye one last time. 

Still, he couldn’t deny that, despite everything that had happened, he was in a damn good mood as you all loaded into the Humvees. 

And an even better one when you climbed into the back seat opposite him. 

You, him, Williams and Alenko. The same team that had operated the tank. And as Alenko pulled the big vehicle out behind the others in your little convoy, Leon felt a sense of kinship he hadn’t thought to find. “I can’t decide if Krauser will be pissed at us for getting into a fight . . .” Williams mused, as your Humvee passed out of Fort Benning at last, “. . . or proud of us for winning it.” 

“Probably a bit of both,” Alenko smiled, glancing back at you all before turning his eyes back to the road. 

“Probably,” Leon agreed. 

“He’ll be proud,” you declared. “He’ll act pissed, but he’ll be proud.” You sounded so sure, and you looked it, too. Doubly so now that your black eye was healing so well, and the evidence of the fight - beyond whatever was wrong with your ribs - was disappearing. Of course, your eye not being so swollen anymore let Leon see the glint there as you reached down into your pack. “Probably be less proud of this, though.” 

And then, with a self-satisfied grin that would have rivaled even Valeria, you pulled a little radio from your pack. One Leon thought he recognized. 

Williams and Alenko looked back as you set the radio between the four of you, and their eyes went wide.

“Is that-”

“Cortez’s,” you nodded, sitting back in your seat. You didn’t give any further explanation.

Leon stared at you, and it took everything in him not to kiss you right then and there. 

“How the hell did you manage that?” he asked, looking between you and the stolen radio. When had you managed that? He could have sworn he’d seen the radio in the Commander’s office just a day ago, but here it was. And by your expression, you weren’t going to be telling him how it had ended up in your pack any time soon. 

“I can’t give away all my secrets, Kennedy,” you said, and Williams laughed. 

She reached back, taking the radio and turning it on, beaming as she did. “However you did it, hell yes.” 

And so she went about switching the dials, surfing different stations, audibly reacting to each. A few songs went by, the air in the Humvee turning to laughs between Alenko and Williams in the front two seats, with Leon chiming in as well when a song he liked came on. But you . . . you just smiled easily, not speaking but rather letting your squad mates have all the fun.

Until Leon thought he heard something as Williams switched through the stations. 

“Wait! Go back . . .” a few clicks of the dial and he was sure. Women singing. An upbeat backing. Nonsensical lyrics. And your eyes going wide in the seat beside him. “This one,” Leon nodded, all too pleased with himself.

Williams, however, just looked back at him in utter disgust. “This?” she said, like she’d never heard worse music in her life. 

Leon, though, just met her eyes and nodded. 

“Huh. Didn’t . . . uh, didn’t think you’d be into the Spice Girls, Kennedy.” 

His smile got even wider as he shrugged. “Why not? They kick ass.” 

You looked at him, then, your lips parted, your eyes fixed on his. Were you really surprised? Of course he remembered. And he might not have entirely shared your views on that kind of music, but hell, if you’d gone to the trouble of stealing a radio for them, then he’d make sure you heard what you liked. If the smile you gave him then was any indication, you appreciated it. “Kennedy’s right about that,” you said, your voice soft. 

“Oh god, not you too,” Williams groaned, but then Alenko led the coup de grace. 

“Alright, this does not leave this vehicle . . .” he said, smiling and glancing over his shoulder before looking ahead once more, “. . . but I enjoy this song.”

Williams looked like she was going to blow a gasket, and Leon could only laugh. “Looks like you’ve been outvoted.”

With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, Williams relented. “Fine, fine. But you know I thought the radio was so this trip would be less painful.”

“You’re welcome to pick the next station, Williams,” you said, and for a moment, Leon wondered if he was seeing the old you. The one he’d heard allusions to, the one who seemed to have been buried six feet under after whatever you saw in Finland. The thought brought no small amount of warmth to his heart. 

Maybe Krauser had been onto something, sending you all to Benning. 

Not that Leon would ever admit it. 

That was all he could think as Alenko started bobbing his head along with the too-happy beat, with Williams looking utterly annoyed, resting her head against the window. It was a damn fine end to a strange little journey, one that Leon would value greatly after everything.

But then-

“Oh, what the fuck?” The Humvee lurched a bit as Alenko slammed on the brakes, stopping just as the one in front of you all stopped. 

Confusion flashed across Leon’s face as he looked up, through the windshield of the Humvee, past the line of other vehicles . . . and felt his blood go a little cold when he saw the reason for the halt. 

Two massive transports blocked the road, each painted black. Two other vehicles flanked them. APC’s with mounted turrets. When he didn’t see any markings, nothing identifiable, his worry turned to dread, cold and deep-seated and gnawing at him. 

Then, from out of the APC’s, came men dressed in black, each wearing a mask, and each carrying an assault rifle. All but two.

Two suits along with the rest, approaching the first Humvee in your squad’s lineup.

The music seemed to become distant as you all traded glances, confusion and anxiety building like static, warping the world around you. You all watched as the officer accompanying you all climbed out of his vehicle, and with his back to you all, you couldn’t see his expression. Only an exchange of words, the inspection of what looked like a badge, and then he stepped to the side, allowing the armed and armored men forward. Towards the rest of you.

Leon could only swallow as they approached.

“Maybe they’re here for a stolen radio,” he offered.

All he got was a side-eye from you . . . and then there was a knock on the Humvee’s door. 

Didn’t seem like there was much choice but to open it.

Chapter Text

Two men in suits. The flash of a badge. Masks. Unmarked cars. M-4 assault rifles. Turret-mounted APC’s.

No, they weren’t here about the radio. 

So what were they here for? 

You had only a few seconds to do the math in your head as the armed men approached. They were armed with guns. That meant they expected a fight. Or wanted to prevent one through the threat of violence. They had stopped a US Strategic Command convoy in the middle of the road when you were all unarmed. And whatever they were planning, whoever they were, the officer looking after you all let them by. 

They filed the crew of the first Humvee out, your squad mates looking confused as they exited. Confused and then tense as guns were trained on them. A group of soldiers stayed with them while the rest moved on. Vehicle after vehicle, until that knock echoed at your door. Hard and forceful. 

You looked at Leon. At Williams. Alenko. The four of you shared an entire conversation in the span of a second, and no words were spoken. 

Run. Fight. Comply. 

Those were your options. 

With the guns trained on you through the windows and the turrets on the APCs ahead, you knew how the first two options would play out, if these men were hostile. The trees on either side of the road were thick enough that the Humvees were boxed in. It would be relying on losing these men in the forest if you ran. You were unarmed, if you chose to fight, it would be fists against assault rifles. But if they meant you harm and you chose the third option . . .

Your accompanying officer had stood down. Either he was in on it, or that badge the men flashed was good enough for him to trust them. 

It wasn’t enough for you, but what choice did you have? 

That was the conclusion the rest seemed to come to as well, but there was still hesitation. Enough that, as the four of you looked at each other, as you and Leon looked at each other, there was a second knock, this one harsher than the first. 

“Open up and exit the vehicle! Keep your hands in the air!” 

Alenko was the first to comply. 

The driver’s side door was opened. He stepped out, his hands raised. “What the hell is going on?” he asked. 

There was no answer. 

No answer, and no choice. Leon looked at you, blue eyes searching yours. Something unspoken behind them. A promise and a prayer. 

And then you all opened the doors. 

You realized it was a mistake as soon as a gloved hand wrapped around your arm, and you were pulled out of the Humvee. “What the fuck are you-” the sound of cuffs clinking sent you into fight or flight, and those first two choices suddenly seemed much more reasonable. 

Fight was the first instinct, and you moved to shrug the man’s hold off of you. It hurt your ribs, moving like that, but that wasn’t what stopped you. Rather, it was the lifting of an assault rifle at your side. Even if it wasn’t touching you, you could feel the barrel of the gun trained on you. The same way you’d felt when you’d faced down that edged knife, knowing that one wrong move would mean pain or worse.

A cool voice spoke your name. Your full name. You froze, and one of the men in the suits approached you. Tall. Dark hair and pale eyes. “Cooperate, and this will all be much easier.” 

He knew you by name.

What the fuck was happening? 

What the fuck-

“What will be much easier?” you hissed, hearing Leon on the other side of the Humvee asking the same questions. Fighting, because he wouldn’t go quietly if he, like you, felt that worry building in his gut. That certainty that something was about to go terribly, terribly wrong. 

The pale-eyed man’s face didn’t shift as he answered. “We have questions for you,” he said, his voice cold. “For all of you.” 

Questions. 

Questions didn’t require guns and handcuffs and armored transports. This was detainment. Capture. Interrogation. By a group you couldn’t identify. 

You looked to Williams, who’d gotten out on the same side of the vehicle as you. Your thoughts were reflected in her expression.

Something was wrong. 

Something was very wrong.

What would happen, if they took you all? If they took you to another location? Would they have more of an upper hand, if something were to happen? If they did more than just ask you all questions? Likely so. Maybe they were CIA. Maybe that was why the cars were unmarked, why most of the men hid their faces. Maybe this was another exercise. Maybe Krauser orchestrated this all to spook you. Evaluate you. Or maybe this was something else, and agreeing to this would be walking you all into something terrible. 

That was what you were leaning towards, warning bells going off in your mind. 

“But make no mistake, Sergeant, there will be no question of whether or not you’ll be coming with us. Just a question of how peacefully.”

You studied him. This man with his pale eyes. His men, masked and bedecked in gear and armed.

If you fought, and these men were not CIA, then people could die. Your squad mates could die. Leon could-

But it wasn’t just you making this choice. 

There was a shout from up the line of the Humvees, and you saw it. Alejandro, moving fast and slamming one of the soldiers against the side of his vehicle. His hands on the assault rifle, struggling to pull it from the soldier’s hands. All you knew was that one of your squad could get hurt. Killed. You only had a moment, as the soldier nearest you looked over his shoulder at Alejandro. You acted, because in your mind, that was all you could do. Your hands closed around the barrel of the nearest rifle.

Eyes wide as the threat of death loomed closer. 

The gun you struggled over all that stood between it and you. 

Your leg kicking forward between the man’s legs. 

And then all hell broke loose. 

Williams was moving at your side, but you barely noticed her, too busy wrestling the rifle out of the man’s hands. You managed it after the kick, bringing the stock of the gun hard across the man’s face. You could hear shouting, cries of pain, and you saw movement ahead of you. 

These men wanted to hurt you. All of you. 

You could stop them. 

So you made a choice. 

You prayed it wouldn’t be the wrong one, but with no time to think about it, you sat the rifle against your shoulder, just as you’d been taught. You took aim at the man Williams was struggling with, at his leg.

You pulled the trigger-

And there was a click. No kickback. No burst of gunfire. Nothing at all.

It wasn’t loaded-

There was a sharp pain in your neck. And then, a moment later, you were on the ground, eyes wide. You couldn’t control your muscles. They convulsed painfully, each and every one of them. Pain, as your body curled in on itself and your ribs were pushed and pulled. Your grip on the gun was gone, and you grit your teeth hard, your mind going into overdrive.

You had to move.

You had to get up.

You had to help-

Someone fell to the ground on the other side of the Humvee - you could see it from the empty space under the vehicle. Sandy blond hair. Strong arms, shaking just as your own were. Clawing at the road as he tried to reach for the gun he’d fought for. Blue eyes, open wide and fixed on you. Leon. 

No-

A gloved hand reached down and took the weapon in front of you. "It didn't have to be like this, Sergeant," that cool voice sighed. "Though, for what it's worth, I'm impressed. They did teach you all to be fighters, didn’t they?” 

Your muscles still seized. You couldn't move. Couldn't fight as arms slid under your own, hoisting you off the ground. If the rest of your squad still fought, you couldn't tell as you were dragged towards the transports, a hood fitted over your head so you couldn’t see anything at all. You were loaded in, your hands cuffed as pain replaced paralysis.

You weren't alone.

Before long, the rest of your squad joined you, and it sounded like very few came by choice. You couldn’t tell who it was at your side. Not immediately, anyway. Only that they had fought and lost, just as you had. That they were on their way to whatever fate awaited them, just as you were.

You had been . . . well, you dared to say you had been truly happy. It couldn't have lasted. You knew that better than anyone, so you tried to focus on other things. 

Like the guns that hadn't been loaded. Whoever these people were, they wanted you all alive. Alive and relatively unharmed, at least for now.

It was a test. It had to be. 

You heard the doors close, and whatever light you could see through the fabric of the hood obscuring your vision was gone. Wherever you were headed now, it was out of your hands.

⧫⧫⧫

The last time Leon had seen cells like this, it had been in Raccoon City, beneath the RPD station.

He could remember the stench of the corpses shambling behind the bars. The way they’d reached for him as he passed. The one living man in a cell at the end. A man Leon hadn’t trusted. A man whose head had been crushed, his eye popping out of its socket and his scream cut off as that too-large gloved hand closed in around him. A man Leon couldn’t have saved, though his guilt wouldn’t allow him to think so.

He couldn’t have stopped that man from dying. He knew that. The cell doors wouldn’t have opened, and even if they had, Leon had no means to fight the thing that would burst through the wall. He knew that. 

But the guilt lingered. 

He only hoped there would be no guilt to be felt, now, looking through the bars in front of him as the hood was taken off your head and you were shoved into a cell.

The first thing Leon had been greeted with when he could see, when the hood was yanked off his own head, was bars. A prison of some kind. And it had brought back all those memories, all the ones that had managed to seem more and more distant over these last few days. Memories of a night he’d rather forget, and worries for what was going to happen behind these bars now. 

“The guns weren’t loaded,” you’d told everyone on the long ride you’d all had to take to . . . wherever you all were now.

“You saying this is a test?” 

“I’m saying it’s a possibility.” 

“Krauser would send guys with unloaded M-4’s and tasers?” 

“He tear-gassed us. This is right up his alley.” 

“But what if it’s not a test?” 

That was the possibility that Leon feared most. The one that made ice run in his veins as each of you all was thrown into a cell. But all of that fear was crowned when he saw you behind bars, and all he could think of was the last time bars prevented him from protecting someone. That fear only worsened as he was turned away and shoved into the cell across from you. 

Just in view. Just out of reach. 

“They said they were going to ask questions,” you’d gone on in the transport. 

“About what?”

“. . . We’ll find out soon enough.”

Leon felt his throat constrict. His muscles, still aching from the taser, tensed even further as he watched the soldiers moving you all about. 

He watched, his hands caught between the biting metal of his cuffs, until the last cell door was closed. 

And then those two men in suits were walking forward from amidst the soldiers, their eyes moving along the newly filled cells. Leon glared at them both, trying to gauge them. Trying to read their intentions. To see past the impassive expressions they wore. 

Suits. Gloves. Guns. Tasers. 

They’d shown a badge when the cars had been stopped. 

Leon had been flashed a false badge before and taken that as proof of good intentions. It had earned him a betrayal. A bullet taken trying to protect a woman who had only used him. Who had died anyway-

“One way or another,” Alejandro had said through clenched teeth, “these assholes aren’t our friends.”

Leon couldn’t help but agree, and as he looked between the men and you, he knew that you were on the same page. That you were assessing just as he was. 

Metal bars. Cuffed hands. Outnumbered. Isolated. No clue where you were. Who you were being held by. 

You did a good job of hiding your fear, but Leon could see it in you. 

Just as he felt it in himself. 

That fear settled itself deep. Burrowing in. Finding a home in Leon’s gut. Still, he kept himself ready. 

“Don’t give them anything. Not if you can help it.” That was what you’d all decided on, in that transport. Until you knew who you were dealing with, that was safest. 

That was what Leon repeated in his mind as the man with pale eyes approached his cell. Eyes that were emotionless. Cold. Eyes that, in their own way, reminded Leon of that monster that had pursued him through the police station that night in Raccoon City. Only now, Leon was the one trapped behind the bars. 

And the man regarded him like he was prey. 

“Mr. Kennedy,” he began, his voice cold, “if you would please come with us.”  

Leon wasn’t given a choice. As soon as the cell opened, two of the masked soldiers were reaching in, taking his arms and pulling him back out of the cell. 

He was unarmed, cuffed, alone. You and the others were all behind bars, and there were over a dozen men out here with him, all trained. All armed, even if the guns weren’t loaded. Leon knew he couldn’t win a fight here. Still, he struggled against the men holding him, trying to at least get out of their holds. It was a wasted effort, as his heart pounded ever faster in his chest. 

He was led away, following the man in the suit, and as he went, Leon looked to you.

Your eyes locked through the bars. You didn’t say anything. Not a word. But in those eyes, Leon saw fear. Desperation. Helplessness. You couldn’t do anything for him now, and it destroyed you. He could see it. 

So, as you gripped the bars of your cell with paling knuckles, as Leon was led away, he did his best to ease your worry with a smile.

Not quite a winning one, but it would have to do. 

And then he was ripped away from you, led down the hallways of wherever the hell he was. A prison, it looked like, but there were no guards. No other inmates. 

Just him, his squad, and the men holding you all. 

A small room was the final destination. One empty but for a chair and table; a chair that he was forced down into. A table that held a police baton, a hood, an oversized jug of water, a towel-

Oh . . . fuck.

Footsteps echoed, and there was a loud slam as the door was closed. 

Two guards. Leon. And the man with pale eyes. The latter nodded, and the guards started to undo Leon’s handcuffs. Leon took the opportunity, even knowing it was futile, to go for a punch. It connected with one of the soldier’s jaws. Throwing the punch hurt. Moving his body hurt, after being tased hours before. But he knew what awaited him if he failed. If he could reach the guard’s taser- but a blow to his gut from the second guard made him double over, the breakfast he’d had at Fort Benning threatening to come up as the hit to sore muscles made him scream. 

He was wrestled back down, then they zip tied his arms to the back of the chair. His legs to the chairs legs. Leon’s jaw clenched, his mouth going dry as he was restrained. 

“You could at least take a guy out to dinner first,” Leon said through the pain, trying to even out his breathing. To put up that wall. To prepare himself for what was coming.  

The man just stared at him. “Oh, we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other, Mr. Kennedy. I have some questions that I’d like you to answer.”

They know my name. What else?

“Couldn’t have asked them without the zip ties?” Leon snapped, determined not to show his fear. Don’t give them anything. Not an inch.

“Answer them forthrightly,” the man went on, “and this will be over quickly.” 

Leon didn’t need to ask what would happen if he didn’t. 

It all came down to the next few seconds. What those questions were. What these men were after. Test or threat? Truth or torture? 

“Ask away,” Leon hissed.

The man’s lips tightened before he spoke. “Are you being trained as an operative of the US Strategic Command?” 

. . . What?

Leon blinked. This man knew his name, but he didn’t know that? 

“I asked you a question.” 

And what the hell kind of question was it?

This wasn’t right-

A gloved hand gripped Leon’s hair, forcing his head back. He let out a grunt, but that was all the sound of pain these men would be getting from him for that. His eyes stormed as he looked up at the man now looming over him, his breathing a little harsher as anger and adrenaline flooded him. 

“I asked . . . are you training to be an operative of the US Strategic Command.” 

Leon just met his stare and laughed. “You must not be very well-informed if you have to ask that.” 

The man’s expression hardened. 

“Who is your commanding officer?” 

The hand in Leon’s hair pulled tighter, but Leon didn’t flinch. 

“You really should have done your homework better.” 

And so it went on. 

“Where is your base?”

“What are you training for?” 

“How many people are training alongside you?” 

All questions asked, all answers Leon denied the man. The hand was removed from his hair, then, after a nod from the pale-eyed man. Leon let his head fall forward a little with a laugh. “I’m just confused why you’re asking questions you should already know the answers to.” If they worked for the government, they would know. If they were CIA, they would know. So, either this was a test or . . .

“Alright,” the man nodded. “If you don’t want to speak about that, perhaps we should talk about something else.” 

He leaned in close, those cold eyes locked on Leon’s, and Leon could only think of that monster. That too-large gloved hand closing around his throat, looking at him in the same dispassionate way. 

Get away-

Run-

Hide-

But he couldn’t do that, this time. Only meet the man’s ice with fire. 

Until the man asked his next question, and that fire nearly died. “You escaped Raccoon City with a child. Sherry Birkin.” The mention of her name made Leon’s blood run cold. Not nearly as much as the rest of the question, though. “You claimed in your report that she was the only other survivor you knew of . . . but that was a lie, wasn’t it?” 

Leon tried to keep his eyes from widening. Tried to hide the fear and confusion he felt from showing on his face. 

“Reports show another person staying with you, in the days following the Raccoon City incident. A young woman.”

How did he-

“Give me her name.” 

Leon stared up at the man, his thoughts tumbling over one another. Scrambling for purchase. “There was no one else,” he said, because it was what he’d said all those months ago when he’d been questioned. It’s the answer he’d given then, even if it wasn’t the truth. Because Claire Redfield didn’t deserve this life that he’d been forced into. If they’d known she’d lived through what he had, then STRATCOM would have had another recruit. Another life to throw at their problems. And if Leon could protect her from it then, he’d protect her from it now. “It was just me and Sherry.” 

The man didn’t blink. His head just tilted, those eyes becoming sharper, then. “Are you sure?” 

He was giving him an out. A chance to answer honestly before the tools on the table would be put to use. Leon knew it. 

And he met the man’s stare anyway. “Think I’d remember that.” 

The man nodded once, his lips pulled into a frown. No more words. Just a look to the guards at Leon’s sides, and then he was being pushed back, the metal chair beneath him creaking as the front legs came off the floor. Leon’s breathing came harder as he strained against the movement, the zip ties on his wrists and ankles keeping him in place. He hissed again as the man tipping the chair back pulled his hair once again, forcing his head backwards, his chin to the ceiling. 

The other moved to the table, while the pale-eyed man stepped up to Leon’s side. “Last chance, Mr. Kennedy. Give me the name.” 

He didn’t need to voice the threat implied if Leon refused. 

Ah, well. Leon had known to expect pain in his life after Raccoon City. What was a bit more?

“Did I stutter the first time?” He hissed, his voice strained. “There was no one else.” 

And then there was a towel wrapped around his head, his breathing growing more labored through the fabric. He closed his eyes, took a breath, braced himself . . . and just when he started to think nothing would happen, he felt the chill of water against his face. He thrashed to try and get away as he felt it going up his nose, but his head was held firmly in place. His hands tightened into fists, his aching muscles tensed. 

Don’t breathe-

Don’t breathe-

But then he started to choke and sputter, and he knew his efforts would be in vain.

Chapter Text

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Your fingers against the bars. You couldn’t keep them still, as much as you tried. Since the masked men and their pale-eyed master had dragged Leon away, you hadn’t moved from your spot at the bars. You hadn’t taken your hands off the metal, because all you could think about was what they were doing.

How they were hurting him. And you were certain that they were hurting him.

You could feel it, like something crawling just beneath your skin. Something that moved too fast to extract. To cut out. 

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

The tapping was your nerves manifesting. You knew that. You wished you could control it better, but those thoughts were getting the better of you. You’d resolved that the tapping was all you were going to give them. Others in your squad decided they would show their resistance in other ways.

“The fuck you looking at, cabrón?” Valeria hissed through the bars, a few cells down. You couldn’t quite tell if she was furious, scared, or both. 

The man on the receiving end of her ire didn’t seem bothered. The second of the two men in suits was tall. Thin. He had the same dark hair as the other pale-eyed man, but his features were different. Completely unremarkable, his face unreadable. He just watched you all as he patrolled up and down the cells, silent and unsympathetic. Unbothered. 

But each time he got to your cell, at the end . . . his gaze lingered. In a way that only made your anger grow each time he passed you. Your anger and worry. For yourself. For your squad. For Leon.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

And those feelings burrowed deeper and became a hard truth when, after what felt like an hour or so, the door at the end of the cell block opened, and you heard footsteps. You tried not to press your face against the bars to see better. Tried not to make it so obvious to these potentially hostile men that you cared for Leon. That you-

You didn’t get to finish the thought when you saw four figures approaching. One suit - the man with the pale eyes - leading the way. Behind him were two masked, armored men. A figure slouched and limp between them, his sun-bleached blond hair was dark and dripping as his head hung low-

The tapping of your fingers against the bars stopped. Your grip tightened and you had to fight back the urge to scream at the men. To rage against the metal. 

That fear and anger made you feel like you could break free of the cell’s confines then and there. You felt so much emotion that you were sure nothing could contain you.

But all the anger in the world wouldn’t give you the strength you needed to break through those bars. To help Leon as he was dragged back into his cell and unceremoniously dropped onto the cot that hung off the wall. 

So you clenched your jaw. Forced yourself to remain silent. Taking some tiny solace in the fact that he moved, however weakly, once he was let go. Once the doors were closed. 

He was alive. He was hurting, but he was alive. 

“Kennedy?” Alenko didn’t bother hiding his concern, even as the pale-eyed man walked to his cell next. “What the fuck did you do to him?” he demanded. Maybe because he knew that, whatever it was that had happened to Leon, he was going to be experiencing it now. “Get your hands off of me!” 

The masked men didn’t listen, though, and soon he was forced down the cell block where Leon had just returned from. 

You looked desperately between Alenko and Leon, trying to give the man being dragged away a reassuring look. You wanted to be concerned for him, and you were, but seeing Leon, with water dripping down his nose, his face and hair and just the collar of his shirt wet . . . you knew what they’d done to him. Test or not, there was no way to fake torture. And he’d struggled hard against them, you could see it in the angry red lines across his wrists, where it looked like restraints had dug into his flesh. 

He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve any of this.

But you knew it didn’t matter what people did or didn’t deserve. Not in this world. 

So, as Alenko was pulled away, thrashing and struggling all the way, you could only look at Leon from across the bars. Wishing you could reach for him. Hold him. Wishing you could tear apart the people that did this to him. People like that second, unremarkable man who continued to pace up and down the cells.

“Kennedy,” Alejandro called out to him, even if he couldn’t see him. “You okay, brother?” 

There was no answer, and that leash you’d kept on your fear was tugged. Threatening to break. 

“Come on, Kennedy.” Williams this time. She was told to be quiet by the man in the suit, but you paid him little mind. 

You only focused on the man you’d come to care for so much over the last several months. The man you’d promised yourself you would burn the world for, and who you hadn’t been able to save from this. 

“Leon,” you said at last, when you couldn’t take it anymore. “Get up.” Because you had to know he was alright. That there wasn’t more damage than you already suspected. 

And it took a moment, but there was a huff. Then a voice that was raw and strained. “That an order, Sarge?” 

And then he was pushing himself up with no small amount of difficulty. Leon always got back up. You should have known better. 

“Damn right it is-”

“Quiet.” The man in the suit spoke, walking closer to you. The first word you’d heard him say, it occurred to you. Not that you were planning on listening to it.

“You broken?” you asked, as Leon stood, seeing the spent look on his face. The redness of his eyes. The slump of his shoulders. 

Still, he shook his head. “Not yet.” 

Of course not. He’d fight them all ‘til his last breath. 

That idea, when being held by strangers whose intentions were unclear, was what scared you. 

“What did they ask you?” Because if you knew, then it might give you some clue into who these people were and what they wanted. Comforting Leon was not something you could do well right now. Working towards getting you all out of here was. 

And by the way his eyes met yours, you knew Leon was thinking the same thing. “If I was training for STRATCOM, who I was training with, how many-” 

“I told you to be quiet.” The man watching from outside the bars approached like a thunderstorm rolling in. 

You didn’t listen.

So, maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised when, as you started to ask further questions, a blur of movement caught your eye. You didn’t have enough time to react before the baton smashed into your fingers, the same ones you’d been drumming against the bars of your cell. Not hard enough to break them, but damn well hard enough to hurt. Your fingers had been caught in sparring enough times that you were familiar with the pain, but the fact that you weren’t bracing for it, that your hand was smashed against the metal bars so abruptly tore a cry of pain from you. You recoiled from the blow, yanking your hand back into the safety of the cell.

The voice that sounded from past your attacker was familiar in sound, not in tone. The voice that you’d come to associate with comfort sounded more like a growl, then. “Don’t fucking touch-”  

Leon’s rage was matched only by your own, because you’d just been hit like a dog in a cage. Like you were a pet that was misbehaving. 

And you didn’t fucking like it. 

“I said,” the man spoke with a condescending tone, looking between you and Leon like he’d just won something, “be quiet.” 

So, you locked eyes with the man who’d hit you. The man in his perfectly pressed suit, with his slicked-back hair and plain features. Plain, but for the sharpness of his eyes. A look that almost begged you to speak up again. To give him a reason. 

“Do you need a further reminder?”

Fuck him. Fuck all of them.

You stayed silent, letting your eyes do the talking. Letting fury pour out of your stare. If looks could kill, that molten rage would melt this man and the metal bars between you and him. As it was, he didn’t look bothered by the heat of it in the slightest. 

Instead, once he was satisfied that you weren’t going to make another sound, he carried on with his patrol. 

Leon moved towards you, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again when you shook your head. Not the kind of trouble you all needed to be making. Not yet. 

If you couldn’t talk, then you’d have to trade information another way. 

Not that you had long to think about trying to remember tap code, or hand signals you could flash to Leon and the others. About half an hour went by, it felt like - much less time than with Leon - and then Alenko was dragged back to his cell, completely passed out, by the looks of things. 

You didn’t get the opportunity to be worried for him. 

“This one was talkative while you were gone,” the man who hit you pointed a gloved finger in your direction. “I believe you have a volunteer.” 

You didn’t say anything as the guards came into your cell. You tried not to look at Leon as you were dragged away. You knew that if you did, you would only see his worry, his fear, and you couldn’t let that compromise you. Not when you needed to be steel. 

Still, you heard him rush up to the bars as you were pulled away, and your eyes found his against your will. 

Leon looked like he was somewhere else. Not here in that cell, but a hundred miles away. You didn’t know what about this situation took him there, but you knew exactly where he was. His eyes may have stared at you in desperation, but his mind was stuck in the ashen ruins of Raccoon City. 

You tried not to think of that look as you were tied to the chair in another room. 

The pale-eyed man stood over you now, his suit just as perfectly pressed as before. Like he hadn’t just tortured two men. Like he wasn’t about to torture you. 

It hit you then like a dousing of cold water - an ironic feeling, considering what was about to happen. You were about to be tortured. And you couldn’t do shit about it.

Except maybe spill whatever secrets they asked of you.

“Sergeant,” the man said, and you were grateful for him commanding your attention away from the masked men around you. They weren’t gas masks, but still, their presence stirred memories you needed to keep buried right now. 

The pale-eyed man gave you his spiel. Answer his questions honestly and this would be over quickly. You vaguely wondered if Alenko had passed out before or after he’d caved and answered said questions. If Leon had given in. Didn’t matter to you now, you supposed. All that mattered was the fact that this asshole had tortured your friends. That alone was enough for you to decide he wasn’t getting a damn thing out of you. 

So, you just stared up at him, your lips pressed in a firm line as he began asking questions. 

“Are you training to be an operative of the US Strategic Command?”

“Who is your commanding officer?” 

“Where is your base?”

“What are you training for?” 

“How many people are training alongside you?” 

All the questions Leon had started to warn you about. You just stared up at him, mouth sealed shut. You weren’t going to answer anything. Not a damn thing. You were good at being silent. At not letting people see you, hear you. You’d been better before Leon, but it was like riding a bike, building those walls back up.

But then-

“How did Captain Simon Reynolds die?” 

It took everything in you not to flinch as he spoke the name imprinted on the third dog tag you wore. Still, you were sure the man interrogating you had the satisfaction of seeing your eyes flash, of seeing that carefully constructed expression you wore falter. 

Because you dreamed every night of how Simon Reynolds died. 

You would know that face anywhere, even with the tarnish of rot on it like it was now. Eyes that had been wise and warm were now empty, his skin paled by death. His fatigues were covered in blood, and his mouth hung open in a silent scream. Part of his head was missing from where you’d shot him. Where you’d killed him. 

“Captain . . .” you breathed. 

“How did he die?” 

You clenched your jaw as an answer. Glared up at the pale-eyed man above you. Glared as you refused to answer, and you were tipped backwards, a cloth pressed over your face. 

Even as the water filled your lungs, even as you thrashed desperately, you tried to hold on to your anger. Anger had gotten you through the worst days. It had been the fuel to your fire for a year now, before Leon had given you another reason to carry on. Anger had been what kept you alive, when you lay in the snow with shattered ribs and blood pouring from poorly sealed wounds. Anger had kept you fighting when you were in the hospital, when you’d returned to training. Anger at Umbrella, at the man who hurt you, at the world for taking so much. 

And even as you choked on the water poured over you, even as it burned your nose and you felt yourself drowning, anger was what kept you from begging them for mercy when it stopped. 

Your chair was tipped back forward, and you coughed the water out of your lungs, taking heaving breaths. Your damaged ribs made the process agony, left you gritting your teeth and growling. It took everything in you not to cry out. You wondered how long that resolve would last. 

“I’ll ask you again,” the pale-eyed man said, when you were done expelling the water from your system. “And I will keep asking until I get an answer, however many hours or days it takes.” You knew he wasn’t lying. You knew what the immediate future held for you. For everyone in your squad. You knew you could spare yourself a lot of pain if you just answered. 

But test or not, it didn’t matter to you then. 

So, you just stared up in silence, your body shaking from the effort. Shaking with rage. You’d survived worse than this. 

You glared at the pale-eyed man again, memorizing his features. His cold eyes, his thin nose and lips, the lines between his brows . . . Taylor had earned your hatred, but this man . . . he was earning something darker. Something you hadn’t felt since that night you lay in the snow, watching a helicopter take off, glimpsing that gas mask one last time before its owner left you behind, shattered. 

You grabbed that unshakable fury and held on tight as your head was forced back once again. 

“Tell me . . .”

⧫⧫⧫

“. . . what was her name?” 

Leon almost didn’t hear the question. He couldn’t even hear himself think. Not after . . . however long he’d spent in that room. His eardrums hurt. He’d known that music could go that loud, in theory, but . . . 

He only knew the man was still asking about Claire, because it was what he’d asked the last time Leon had been dragged into this little room. And the time before that. This was his third visit, now. There were other questions, of course. He’d been asked more about STRATCOM, about Raccoon City. Things that could only be known from reading his report on the incident, or insider knowledge of how Umbrella worked. Leon hadn’t answered any of them. They’d moved on from trying to drown him in favor of leaving him alone with music blasting enough he thought his ears would quite literally bleed. Maybe they would, because he wasn’t going to give them the answers they were looking for. 

“Next time . . .” he said, his voice sounding so muted, so quiet, even if it felt like he was speaking at full volume, “. . . next time can you play the Spice Girls?” 

You would have laughed at the joke. 

If you were there. 

If you were back on base instead of in this hell. 

God, he wanted to see you laugh more than anything. 

As it was, he was just given a disapproving look as the man interrogating him heard his deflection. Very well, the man seemed to silently say, and then he was departing again, leaving Leon tied to the chair. Leaving him to brace for-

⧫⧫⧫

The blow. 

It cracked across your cheek, sharp and fast. Another bruise for the collection. Your whole squad was being decorated with them, and now it was your turn. Badges of honor, Valeria had called them, back at Fort Benning. 

Harder to see them that way, now. 

“How did he die?” 

The same fucking question. Over and over, occasionally interspersed with others, but it always came back to this one. 

You didn’t know why they’d want to know so bad. If this was Umbrella, they’d be focused more on STRATCOM. Your training methods. Not the death of your mentor. Not the bullets you’d been forced to put through his skull. 

The questions they asked told you they were CIA, running a test. 

The blows they landed on you, though . . . 

It didn’t matter. You’d taken hits before. So you gave the pale-eyed man the same answer you’d given him the last four times you’d been dragged in here. 

Fucking nothing.

So, you closed your eyes as the police baton on the table was taken up. Took a breath, and then, deciding you wanted to see the swing coming . . .

⧫⧫⧫

His eyes snapped open.

Leon hadn’t even realized that he’d drifted off, but as he felt hands around his leg and over his shoulder, he realized that he’d been asleep on the cot in his cell. And that whoever was holding you all wouldn’t allow that. 

He was just a bit too slow to stop them, his whole body aching from where the baton had impacted, however many hours ago that had been. It made him slower. Weaker. 

Enough that he failed to shake the guard off him as he was pulled off the cot, landing hard on the concrete floor. 

“Feeling tired?” 

Leon had hoped for a few more hours without hearing the pale-eyed man’s voice. 

“You can rest . . . if you answer my question.” 

Leon groaned as he pushed himself up from the floor. The same thing had happened the last time he’d tried to sleep. It had happened to you, and Alenko, and everyone else. They were keeping you all awake. It would be harder to resist that way. 

How long had you all been here? Two days? Three? How long could you all keep going like this? 

Leon didn’t know. So, he just glared up at the guard who’d pulled him from sleep, too exhausted to think of something witty to say. 

“Just fuck off.” 

For once, they listened, and Leon was left on the floor of his cell . . .

⧫⧫⧫

. . . and your eyes met his, across the way. 

You stared at him, slumped against the wall, trying to keep yourself awake. It was easier than you thought. All you had to do was breathe hard, then the pain in your ribs would flare, wrenching you back from the dark. 

You wished you could take that pain and turn it on the men doing this all to you. 

As it was, all you could do was look into Leon’s eyes. Seeing their brightness dimmed was perhaps worse than all the beatings, all the hours you spent in pain and discomfort. 

I’m sorry you got hurt, you’d said to him at Fort Benning, as you lay in his arms. 

You weren’t sorry now. You were full of hatred. Violence. 

⧫⧫⧫

Fury.

He was shaking with it as the piece of paper was held in front of him. 

There was writing on it. A little messy. Some words crossed out, like the person holding the glittery pen the letter was written in had made a spelling mistake, and then tried again. 

But only a few words were clear to him, in his pained, sleep-deprived state that stuck out to him. 

Hi Leon! 

The rest was jumbled, and the pale-eyed man didn’t let him look long enough to make sense of it all. What he did see, though, was a signature at the bottom, written in big letters. And it, more than anything else, pressed against his heart until it felt like it might crack beneath the weight. 

From, Sherry

She hadn’t written to him. 

He hadn’t heard a word from her since he started training. 

She hadn’t-

“That’s not fucking real.” 

That was all Leon could hiss out, because Sherry hadn’t written to him. He’d been okay with it. He’d assumed that meant that she was happy with her new family, and he’d been so wrapped up in training, so consumed in preparing for what he and Claire had saved her from, that he wasn’t even sure what he’d say to her. He couldn’t tell a child how much the military training hurt. How he barely got himself out of bed each morning. 

So he’d let it rest, convincing himself that Sherry was working towards happiness. 

“That’s not-” 

“There are others like it, Mr. Kennedy,” the pale-eyed man said simply, pulling the letter away and looking it over. “Fewer lately, but she does write them, every so often. I regret that you weren’t allowed to read them.” 

It had to be a joke. It had to be a test.

Because if it wasn’t, Leon was going to burn the fucking world down. 

“I’m assuming the ‘Claire’ she references in this is the woman who escaped with you all?” The man went on, and Leon nearly snapped out of the zip ties keeping him fastened to the chair. “Give me a last name . . . and I will see that you can read the rest of these letters.” 

And that, more than anything else, more than the pain and torture, threatened to break Leon’s resolve. 

To know that Sherry was alright, that she hadn’t forgotten him, that she wanted to know if he was alright too . . . 

But that was the point, wasn’t it? 

This whole experience was designed to break him, and since the physical pain hadn’t worked, they were switching tactics. Peeling away the layers of resistance until Leon was left with no choice but to answer that question. 

And in that moment, he almost did. 

God help him, he almost gave them what they wanted. Hell, they probably already knew Claire’s last name anyway, if they had Sherry’s letters. If they had seen Claire with Leon in the aftermath of Raccoon City. This was all likely just a test, terrible and cruel. What would be the harm in giving them information they already knew? 

His lips parted, his breath shaky as he felt the name Redfield forming in his mind . . .

And then those lips, cracked and chapped from dehydration and beatings alike, closed. He didn’t say anything this time as he refused, loyalty to a friend keeping him from answering. 

“Very well,” the pale-eyed man nodded. “Then we’ll just have to try something else, won’t we?” 

⧫⧫⧫

You’d known what was happening the second they pinned you to the wall. The minute the guards marched into your cell and uncuffed you. You’d fought them, but there were three of them and one of you. Those odds would have been good, if you weren’t pained and starved and sleep-deprived. If they weren’t wearing armor and you were in your now blood-stained and dirty fatigues. If your ribs weren’t still aching from the fight at Fort Benning. 

As it was, you did well enough. Landed a few blows. Punching one in the face, giving him a nice bruise under his mask, you hoped. 

In the end, though, you lost, and then one guard pinned one of your arms to the side of you, another doing the same on the other side. 

The pale-eyed man and his plain-featured companion filed into your cell, then, but their attention was not on you. Leon looked on in horror from across the cell block, no more than fifteen feet away as he gripped the bars. 

“What was her name?” the pale-eyed man asked. You didn’t know who he was talking about, but then, he wasn’t asking you, was he? 

Leon just looked on, his knuckles turning white around the bars of his cell. This must have been the question they fixated on for him. Just as they kept asking you about your Captain’s death. Were they asking about Ada? Or someone else? You didn’t know. All you knew was that they weren’t threatening him with pain this time, if he didn’t answer. Leon knew it too. It was why you could see him at war with himself in his own cell, his eyes wide, torn between active anger and a thousand-yard stare. 

You didn’t want more pain. You weren’t that self-punishing. You wanted this all to stop, for your sake and the sake of the bruised squad mates in the cells next to you. 

You didn’t know who the woman was that they were asking about, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the fact that Leon breaking and giving them her name could spare you this pain. 

So, for the first time in days, maybe, you spoke. “Leon,” you said, looking across at him. “Don’t give them a damn thing.” 

His jaw tightened. Eyes shining. You were asking him to let you get hurt. 

He’d told you once that he couldn’t just stand by and let you suffer pain. But now, he would have to. 

It filled you with a grim sort of pride as he nodded, looking away from you in guilt. 

“There was no one else,” he said. 

And then the plain-featured man stepped up to you. Smiled like he’d been waiting for this. 

The first hit was a slap to the face. 

You could hear Alenko in the cell next to Leon yelling at them to stop. To leave you alone. They didn’t listen, and neither did you. You retreated into yourself more and more with each hit. Every blow - all designed not to do you any permanent damage, you realized. Still, it hurt. You tried not to cry as unhealed bruises were added on to. As you eventually heard Leon’s voice break as he called out to you. 

“Stop it!” he begged, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. 

You were clenching your teeth so hard you thought they might shatter, but you could endure. You could survive. You could-

You screamed as an open palm connected with your midsection. A blow that connected with impossible strength. You felt a crack. 

And then the world blurred, stripped down to the most basic sights and sounds. 

Two figures in suits, approaching you. 

“What did you do?”

The ground coming closer. 

A scream of your name. 

A distant boom.

You barely registered it all because my ribs are broken-

They’re broken-

They’re-

The knife went into you once. Twice. Three times-

You heard more than felt the bone break under the steel-

Red lenses where eyes should have been-

Someone screaming your name-

You couldn’t distinguish between memory and reality. Past and present. All you knew was that you were in a familiar kind of agony. 

That the ground was cold beneath you.

There was the sound of commotion. 

A red beret above you.

A gruff voice.

But the words were wrong. 

“Open these fucking cells. Now.” 

That . . . that wasn’t what Krauser had said when he found you lying in the snow. 

“Major,” a cool, familiar voice answered, “I don’t think you would want to deal with the repercussions of shooting a federal agent.” 

There was the cocking of a gun. 

“Try me.” 

And then there was darkness. 

Chapter Text

Silence and agony. 

That was what Leon was met with, as he sat with his squad. His brothers and sisters in arms.

No one in the transport spoke as they loaded in, most of them just choosing to stare at their feet. Some of those stares, like Williams’ and Alejandro’s, were full of hatred. Others were distant, telling of a person retreating into oneself. Alenko and, surprisingly, Valeria, were in that category. Most were just exhausted. No one had told them how long they had been in that prison. How long they’d been tortured for. All Leon knew was that it was nighttime when Krauser and his men escorted everyone out and into trucks. It was a blurred, stumbling process, and even if it had been leaving behind the hell you'd all been trapped in, there was no relief to be found.

Because in the darkness, Leon had seen Krauser carrying you into a Humvee, your eyes still closed. 

Krauser, carrying you, because you'd been hurt.

And it was Leon’s fault. That was all he could think as he followed the Major and his men to the trucks. 

“Major, please,” the pale-eyed man had called after Krauser, with more emotion than Leon had heard from him the entire time he’d been questioning him. Torturing him. “We have our own medical staff back inside. Let them-”

“You’ve done enough to my men, Hellman.” Krauser had growled the response, and Leon latched onto the name. Finally, he had a name to direct his anger towards. 

Another voice, then. “You should be proud of them-” the other agent. The one whose throat Leon wanted to wrap his hands around. The one who had beaten you in front of him. Even as he'd begged them to-

“Stop it!” His voice was raw. Terrified. “Stop, I’ll tell-”

Too late, because you screamed, and any further words were stolen from Leon’s lips. He could only watch, his hands gripping the bars of his cell, as the man with the slicked-back brown hair withdrew his hand, and you crumpled forward. 

That man hadn’t looked bothered then, when he’d forced you to your knees with a blow. When he’d made you scream and fall to unconsciousness at last. He didn’t seem much more bothered now, his face impassive as he spoke. “It was impressive. Not many of them broke; not many to weed out.” 

Krauser stopped his advance towards the trucks, the very air around him seeming to become dense. Leon had thought he’d seen Krauser angry before. He’d thought he’d witnessed the quiet fury of the Major. Now, as he saw those ice eyes flash, he realized he hadn’t seen half of it. With an inhale that made his broad shoulders rise, Krauser handed you off to one of his men and then turned. For a moment, Leon thought he might take the knife that rested in a sheath over his heart and carve the agent to pieces. Krauser chose to do it with his voice instead. “Say another word,” he warned, eyes locking on the agent with a branding promise, “and I'll break you.”

Even that agent, even with the emotionless way he'd brutalized you and the rest in those cells, didn't seem to want to call Major Krauser’s bluff. 

And so Leon and the others loaded into the truck, and the silence set in. 

Silence, and agony. 

Agony, for the blows Leon had suffered, the way his body ached and screamed for the abuse it had suffered. Agony, for the knowledge that Sherry may have been writing letters to him, and that he'd not been allowed to receive them. Agony, because he'd let you get hurt. 

Worse than hurt. 

Everyone else was staring at their feet while the transport began to pull away from the prison at last. Leon was torn between not being able to look at you and being unable to look anywhere else. 

You’d been carefully leaned in a seat, with one of Krauser’s men beside you. A medic, it looked like, examining you as your eyes remained closed. Shut to the world. Shutting you in with whatever memories continued the assault, even now that you were safe. 

Safe. 

As if there was such a thing as safety for you. For any of you. 

Because as Leon looked at you, at the man making sure you were stable, he could only think that Krauser had never shied away from delivering pain before. Why would he start now? Had this all been his doing? Had he just stepped in when things went too far? Leon didn’t know, and it seemed he wasn’t the only one wondering. 

“So . . . it was a test after all.” Andersen, uncharacteristically, broke the silence first. Leon looked at him then, seeing the normally stoic man hunched forward in the transport’s light. He bore fewer bruises than the rest. 

In fact . . . Leon couldn’t see more than a single shiner on the older man’s face. 

“A test.” Alejandro spat the words like bad blood in his mouth. He looked more like the rest of you, one of his eyes blackened, his wrists bearing dark lines, like the cuffs and zip-ties he’d been forced to wear had tried to become one with his skin. “Beat us all to shit and call it a test.” 

“They had to know if we’d break,” Alenko said, the usual mirth in his voice gone. His eyes were fixed forward, his hands clasped tightly together. 

“And if we did?” The question came from Shinoda, who seemed lost in his own mind. Just as lost as the rest of you. 

Leon knew the answer. He’d heard that bastard’s taunts. So had everyone else.

Not many of them broke; not many to weed out.

Weed out. Like faulty tools. As Shinoda asked that question, the air in the transport grew heavier, only confirming what the agent had implied. Some of them had talked. Whether about STRATCOM or questions more personal, they had been broken. 

And Leon . . . he had been so close. 

So close. 

He’d thought he’d be able to push through anything. He’d been able to endure the beatings. The ear-splitting sounds. The feeling of being drowned. Even Sherry’s letters, real or fake (he wasn’t sure which was worse, now) had been something he’d been able to endure. 

But seeing you suffer . . . seeing them lay blow after blow against your skin, seeing them worsen an injury they didn’t know was there . . . 

He’d been ready to tell them. To give Claire up. 

Fuck, he’d been ready to give up his friend. 

They probably already knew her name, just as he’d thought back in that room when they’d shown him Sherry’s letters. They’d probably chosen that question because he’d lied about her after Raccoon City, and wanted to see if he could maintain that lie. That was the thought that had torn apart his mind. They probably already knew who Claire was, where she was, everything. They probably knew, and he loved you and you were being hurt. 

So he’d broken the exact moment you had, his will and your bones. 

And now he was left with not only the guilt of causing you pain, but the knowledge that, if you hadn’t screamed, if Hellman and the other agent hadn’t seemed so shocked by your reaction, he would have betrayed his friend. 

If Krauser hadn’t arrived when he had, Leon would have given up Claire Redfield’s name to protect you.  

Leon’s fingers curled into a fist, because he’d failed both of you. 

And now, he would have to live with that failure, however sharp and twisting it was. He knew it as he heard a voice from down the line, the only voice in that transport that he wouldn’t recognize. 

“Sergeant? Can you hear me?” 

Even as exhausted as he was, even if moving his head too fast made it spin and throb, Leon snapped to look at you. He didn’t give a shit if it was obvious to the rest of his squad or the rest of the world. Not when he saw your eyes blinking open, your head hanging low as the world returned to you. 

There wasn’t even a moment of calm for you. The second you were awake, your expression twisted into one of pain, your hand shakily going towards your ribs, only for the medic to stop you. 

“Just stay still. Focus on breathing-” he went through the motions with you, but you didn’t seem to be paying attention to him. No more than Leon was, the medic’s words were little more than noise to him. He stared at you, his guilt and concern overpowering the urge to just let his own eyes fall closed. You, though, didn’t even look at him. Your focus was ahead, your eyes a thousand miles away, your jaw set tight. 

You were afraid. Leon could see it. 

Afraid and in pain with every breath you took, wincing each time the transport went over a bump in the road. These were injuries you wouldn’t have suffered, if not for him. If not for some test that was too cruel, too needless. He blamed the men who beat you. The ones who tortured you and the others for who knew how long? Men who had seen the concern you held for him and turned it into a weapon. He blamed them, enough that his knuckles turned white as he tried to catch your gaze. Tried without words to convey how utterly repentant he was. How badly he wished he could take that pain from you.

Because those blows? This hurt you now endured? 

Even if he knew it wasn’t the truth, even if he knew better, Leon blamed himself for it more than anyone else.

⧫⧫⧫

It wasn’t the homecoming you’d hoped for. 

You’d thought you and the others would return from Fort Benning triumphant, having overcome the challenge arranged for you all. You’d thought you’d all be getting a stern but proud talking-to about the fight you’d been in. That Krauser would have pulled you and Leon aside to tell you that the boys upstairs had approved the handing off of classified intel. 

You’d even expected to be in the med bay because, like you’d promised Leon, you’d meant to tell Krauser and the other staff about your injury. Then, you thought it would have been a question of taking things easy for a few weeks. 

That last part would still hold true. 

As it was, though, there was no joy or pride to be found in you or anyone else. 

All fifteen of you had been through hell and it showed, on your skin and in your eyes. Krauser had wasted no time; as soon as you’d all arrived back at base, he’d taken you all to the infirmary, urging the Doc to get you all checked up, starting with you. He and his assistants - all two of them - set about the task. 

And as you lay there, staring at the ceiling while the Doc bustled around you, you tried to hold yourself together. Tried to prepare yourself for the news. 

You’d had a whole truck ride to do it. Hours to come to terms with the pain and what it meant. 

That didn’t make it any easier when the Doc looked up at you. “We’d need an x-ray to be sure, but . . . kid, your ribs . . .”

You didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. Because you remembered the last time you’d received this news. It had been worse, then, because your flesh was broken too, not just your bones. You’d had to be stitched back together, then. You’d needed time for blood to start flowing properly through your veins again, but you still remembered the words regarding the bones that the knife had broken. 

Should be better in a few months. 

Months. 

Months. 

Months you would spend here, in this infirmary, your muscles atrophying and your mind clouding. Months without being able to prepare yourself for what was out there. Months of nothingness, while the rest of your squad moved on without you. 

While Leon moved on without you. 

For the first time since you’d arrived back on base, for the first time since you’d woken up, you allowed yourself to look for the man in question. You found him as you knew you would; his blue eyes wide and fixed on you, his face pale with concern where purple and black didn’t decorate it already. You couldn’t hold Leon’s gaze for long, because it just made this worse. You didn’t need his guilt or pity. You couldn’t handle it. You’d known what you were getting yourself into. 

Don’t give them a thing. 

He’d done as you asked. 

It wasn’t his fault. 

It wasn’t.

But they’d done this to you for a reason. They’d heard the concern in your voice that first day when Leon had been brought back, or somehow learned of your fondness for each other. They had chosen to use you to get to Leon for a reason. 

So, looking at him now, knowing that that reason would halt your life as you knew it once again, you couldn’t stand it. 

Looking away from him was the only choice for you, at that moment. 

You clenched your jaw so hard your teeth began to hurt, like you were going to shatter them right out of your mouth. All you could think, all you could wonder, was a question that was stolen right out of your mouth. 

“What the hell happened?” the Doc asked, his attention sweeping across the rest of the squad before turning to Krauser. 

Krauser, who stood by your side throughout the entire examination, his scarred arms crossed over his chest and his eyes sharpened with rage. That rage was the only thing that kept you from feeling completely and utterly betrayed by him - all that kept you from thinking that he’d orchestrated all of this, and it had gone wrong. 

Because, accident or not, your ribs were broken. Your squad would have to carry on training without you. They would likely finish before you were well again. They’d be sent into the field while you remained here, trying to catch up. Leon would be out there, fighting while you would be back where you’d started. Broken and alone. And if Krauser had been the one to order that test . . . 

“CIA son of a bitch, that’s what happened,” Krauser hissed, interrupting that spiral of thought. “Took them for a fucking interrogation test.” 

“And most passed with flying colors.” 

The voice made you tense, just as the appearance of the man it belonged to did. Seeing the two agents enter the med bay brought on a visceral reaction. It made you shrink into yourself without thinking. Even now, the more plain-featured of the two agents seemed so far removed from the struggles of your squad. So far above the pain he’d put you all through. But once that urge for flight was quelled in you, fight was all that remained. Even if you couldn’t. Even if your body was wracked with pain from something so simple as breathing. 

It didn’t matter, though, because Krauser beat you to it. 

“Reed-” the other, pale-eyed agent warned, but it was too late. Krauser spun and in a move that was too fast for your addled mind to register, the Major pinned the shorter man to the wall. 

“Major!” someone shouted, and you and the rest of your squad just watched as your commanding officer, your instructor held the agent there, medical supplies clattering to the ground in the struggle. Not that there was much of one, because finally - finally - you saw that impassive expression falter in favor of fear. 

Genuine, true fear, as Krauser held the smaller man against the wall, because Reed was staring down fury itself. 

“You think you can just take my men?” the Major started, snarling the words with a contempt like nothing you’d ever heard. “Think you can just break their bones for the sake of some fucking test?” 

Reed, for all the bravado he’d had in that prison, for the way he’d looked at you like you were nothing as he beat you, didn’t answer. Maybe because Krauser was applying too much pressure to the man’s throat for him to get the words out. Or, maybe, it was because he was terrified and his words failed him. 

The pale-eyed one, Hellman, answered for his companion. 

“Major,” he said, and you could have sworn it was another person entirely from the one who’d captured you. Interrogated you. Tortured you. This man had a voice that was calming. Caring. He made no move to pull Krauser away from his fellow agent, instead holding his gloved hands up in surrender. “Please, there’s no need for this. Reed was just following my orders.” 

“So you ordered him to brutalize my men? To fucking cripple them?” 

“No.” Hellman grimaced, and looked over at you at last. He addressed you, then, but you knew the words were meant for Krauser. “Sergeant,” he said, and you could swear he was being genuine. Not that you cared one way or the other. “You have my apologies. It wasn’t our intention to cause you permanent harm-”

An accident. A fucking accident. You’d be held back for weeks because Reed put too much force behind a blow. 

Krauser’s anger flared at that, you could hear it in his voice. “Oh, no permanent harm.”

“Major,” Hellman went on, keeping calm as he tried to reason with Krauser. Like trying to douse a fire with kerosene. “It was important that we know who has the will to withstand interrogation. You know that.” He looked around, at the faces of the squad he’d tortured. At the men and women whose lives he’d made hell, and made a wise choice. “Perhaps we should have this conversation outside?” He offered. “You were right, I’ve done enough. They deserve a chance to get some rest.” He gestured to your squad. 

Krauser looked down at Reed, still pinned to the wall by his throat. He exhaled as he looked back up to Hellman, and released the man’s partner at last. “Fine,” he snarled as Reed scurried away, breathing hard and holding a hand to his throat. The Major looked back at you and the Doc, his anger still there but buried beneath something else, too. Barely stifled and raging just beneath the surface. “See to everyone else. And you,” he met your eyes, and you realized what it was you were seeing. Guilt. “Get some rest.”

Then he was gone, marching out of the room, practically chasing the two agents out. 

“Come on, Sergeant,” one of the medics helped you up, and you fought hard to keep your face from contorting in agony. From letting the anguish in you spill out. 

You didn’t look at your squad as you were led from the room. Not even Leon. Nor did you look at Krauser and the two agents as they spoke down the hallway. You only focused on trying to get where you were going. Right foot, left foot, one in front of the other. Your head was spinning, your body aching where it wasn’t screaming in pain. The secondary room you were led to had four beds in it, ones that were almost never in use. 

And as you were helped down onto one, you were left with the realization that this would likely be your bed for a long, long time. 

You were given water, but you didn’t drink it. Food, but you didn’t eat it. As the medic left you there, you only stared up at the ceiling, wanting to scream. 

Wanting to tear at the walls and your own never-healed flesh and force the bones back together, somehow. 

Months. 

Months of bedrest and taking it easy and all of your hard work fading. 

Months of losing all the skills you’d built. 

Months of watching others prepare for the fight that had ruled your thoughts for over a year. They’d be taking the fight to Umbrella, and you’d be here. Wounded once more, unable to help. 

Your fight. 

Your purpose.

Your revenge. 

It was all going to be put on hold while the people you cared about faced danger that should have been yours. 

Your fists clenched tight and you forced yourself up, growling through clenched teeth as you did. It wasn’t that bad. You could still work. Fight. You could. You just had to be stronger. Stronger than the agony pushing its way through your body. 

You could do it. 

You could-

You cried out as you tried to stand, your broken ribs shifting, and you were forced back down. Forced to sit in that damn bed, your body shaking. Your hands clenching the sheets, memories and what-ifs assaulting you from every angle. 

You felt your heartbeat rising until it hurt in your chest, your breathing already shallow to keep the pain from becoming worse, and for a moment it seemed like you were going to collapse in on yourself.

Then the door opened, and everything went still as you found Leon standing there, his eyes bloodshot and framed by purple, his lips chapped and parted as he stared at you. There was no joke this time as he stepped into the room. Nothing but the murmuring of your name. 

“You shouldn’t be in here,” you found yourself saying. 

Because the agents could be watching. Because they had done this to you for a reason. Because they had chosen you to try and break Leon, and they wouldn’t have done that without reason. 

Or maybe it was just because you couldn’t handle looking at him right now. 

But Leon stepped closer anyway. “Please,” he said, his voice strained. “I . . .” 

What could either of you say? What was there to say about what you’d been through? You knew all he could think of when he looked at you was what had happened. You could see it replaying in his eyes. And all you could think of was what it had cost you. What it had taken from you. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking another step towards you. His eyes shimmered. “Fuck, I . . . I’m so-”

“Don’t.” You shook your head, not letting him finish. Cutting the throat of his apology, because you didn’t want or need it. 

More silence as Leon stood there, stopping his advance towards you. Your eyes found a spot on the floor and stayed there, your fists still clutching the bed sheets at your side. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to have been laughing and smiling and whatever else, proud of all you and your squad had accomplished. 

Instead the two of you lingered in wretched stillness, bruised and broken in an all-new way. 

Until, at last, Leon spoke once more, his words steadier. “What do you need? What can I do?” he asked, like he was willing to give you the moon itself if you asked. 

But what you wanted, what you needed, he couldn’t give you. 

So, instead, even if it wasn’t smart, even if it was a risk, you looked up at him. “Come sit.” 

He didn’t hesitate. He took a seat beside you on the bed, his eyes fixed on you. He wanted to hold you, you could practically feel it in him. The desire to try and champion your hurt, to spare you from it. But he couldn’t. Just like you’d told him, once, he would have to learn to live with people being in pain. Just as you would have to learn to live with feeling it. 

But as he lifted a hand towards your shoulder and gently rested it there, you didn’t stop him. 

You just closed your eyes, squeezing them shut, your breath constricting in your throat, sitting there with him and letting the inevitability of what was to come close its shackles around you.

Chapter Text

Leon felt numb as he closed the door behind him, leaving you alone in that room. 

All he knew was that he wished he could have been there for you tonight. He wanted to stay with you. He wished so desperately that he could have been with you for longer, because the last thing you needed right now was to be alone. He’d only spent a few minutes with you before you’d asked him to leave you be. 

“I’ll be fine. Just go.”

You’d told him that, and it hadn’t been the command that had stung, but the strain in your voice. The ice creeping back in that made a winter’s morning of your words. 

He blinked his heavy eyelids and clenched his fists, feeling so utterly defeated. Defeated because there was nothing he could do to help you, no way to take back the blow and no way to fix what had been broken. 

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to find Reed and Hellman and . . . and what? What could he do? Rage at them? Tear into them the way Krauser had? 

Krauser. The man who’d been so cruel in his training thus far, but not like this. Who’d so often said that you needed to be ready for anything. Who’d not told the rest of the squad about Raccoon City and the bioweapons that destroyed it because he’d been ordered to be silent. 

Krauser, who had looked fully prepared to kill Reed the moment he arrived. Who had carried you so carefully from that abandoned prison. 

Krauser. 

That was who Leon set out in search of, ignoring the exhaustion in his bones, the aching of his bruises as he walked. 

He could hear the Major’s guttural voice as he crept forward, and the cooler voices of Reed and Hellman interspersed between bouts of scathing anger. Leon tucked himself against the wall as he listened, because he needed to know why. Why you and the rest had been made to suffer like that, and what it meant now that these men were here. A test, Krauser had said. 

And it was what he continued to growl as Leon overheard the words spoken around the corner. 

“. . . if that would be easier-”

“No.” Krauser. His voice was just as angry as before but strained. Like he was backed into a corner and had resigned that he couldn’t fight his way out. “They’re my men. It’s my responsibility.” 

Leon’s brows pinched together at what he was hearing, his gaze fixed on the floor at his feet as he listened. 

Reed’s voice - one that sent Leon’s chest tightening in anger - came next. The fear that Leon had seen in him back in the other room seemed to be gone, because his voice was back to that apathetic drawl. “And the Sergeant?” 

Leon looked up, because there was only one Sergeant they could be talking about. 

And his rage only flared as Reed went on. “With injuries like that-”

“Choose your next words very carefully,” Krauser warned, and Leon tensed at the utter ferocity in his tone. He couldn’t see the Major from where he hid around the corner, but he could feel the anger even from there. 

Reed seemed to heed the words, and there was a pause before he spoke again. “I only meant that training with that injury will be impossible. Not until it heals.” 

“An injury you are responsible for.”

It took everything not for Leon to speak up. To reveal himself and tell these bastards that you were stronger than they knew. That even the injuries they’d inflicted on you wouldn’t stop you. But Krauser, for the second time today, defended you where Leon wasn’t able to.

“I’m already giving up too many men for the sake of your bullshit. It will heal.” 

“I hope it does heal,” Hellman said, and again he sounded genuine, just as he had back in the main room of the infirmary. As if he hadn’t led the torture of fifteen people. As if what he’d done was forgivable. “We will need every able body we can get.”

“Then let the rest stay,” Krauser said, and again Leon felt something in him sink. “They can be trained-”

“You know we can’t risk that. Not with the information they’re going to be given. Not when they’re going to be pitted against an enemy that doesn’t care about rules of engagement or human ethics of any kind. If they broke for us, they will break under that pressure too.”

“You fucking tortured them for three fucking days. You don’t throw someone into a knife fight with no training and expect them to do well.”

Three days? They’d been in there for three days?

Reed scoffed. “An interesting stance to take, given your own training methods thus far.” 

“I’m trying to prepare them-”

“Major,” Hellman interrupted again, his voice just as calm and collected, “we have our orders. All of us. Whether we agree with them or not. You agreed to this.” 

A beat of silence in which Leon felt his fury sharpen. He’d agreed. Krauser had fucking agreed- 

“Not everyone who broke,” Krauser said after a moment, a plea disguised as a command. “Keep the ones who held out until the end at least. Soto and Kennedy.” 

Leon froze, eyes wide. Soto and Kennedy. Valeria and him. She’d broken too. Like him. And now Krauser was trying to convince these men to let them stay. To keep training to fight nightmares.

Was he afraid of being included in those sent home? Yes, he supposed he was. There wasn’t much for him to go back to, anyway. This had been the alternative to prison. The penance for knowing too much, for uncovering secrets buried beneath a now-ruined city. Become useful or become silent, that had been the choice. So, if Reed and Hellman were making Krauser send people home - the ones who’d failed . . . had that time in an abandoned prison just been a prelude to a life spent behind bars?

Were you going to be left alone again? 

“It’s a risk, Major-” 

“Then take it. Kennedy already knows all the shit you’re going to be telling them anyway and Soto is one of my best. She can learn. They both can.” 

“Soto gave up information about her squad,” Reed declared. “And Kennedy withheld information from federal investigators following Raccoon City. You want weak links to stay?” 

“I want you to let me worry about my own men. Soto is a good soldier. She’ll be a valuable asset. And Kennedy has more experience dealing with Umbrella than anyone here. You said we need as many men as we can spare.” Desperation, when it came to Jack Krauser, seemed to take the form of tension. Words strained to the breaking point. Leon didn’t know what to think as he heard the Major defending him and Valeria.

Nor did he know what to think when he heard Hellman sigh. “Fine.” 

One word, and Leon’s future in STRATCOM was secured, for better or worse. 

“I’ll offer again, if you’d rather we tell them . . .”

“I said I’d do it.” Leon had spent the last few months hearing Krauser’s voice. It had always been self-assured. Steadfast. Now, as Leon listened to it, he sounded defeated. “In the morning. They deserve their rest tonight.”

“As you wish,” Hellman said. “We’ll get settled in then.” 

Krauser just grunted in response. 

“We’ll meet tomorrow to discuss next steps.”

“Fine.”

Another moment of silence. 

“Major,” Hellman went on, “I’m sorry. Truly.” 

“Apologize to my men, not to me.” 

Another beat before Hellman bid Krauser a goodnight. Footsteps heading away from Leon. Two sets. The sound of a door opening. More silence and then-

“Fuck.” Krauser swore. 

Leon didn’t wait long enough to hear anything else, retreating back to the main room of the infirmary. He’d come in search of a fight, he supposed, but hearing the utter defeat in the Major’s voice, he found that will silenced. 

⧫⧫⧫

Leon had never imagined that the bare-bones barracks would be a welcome sight, but as the squad filed in that night, he found himself almost relieved to be back. Almost, because one person was missing. One bed wouldn’t be filled tonight . . . and likely not for many nights to come. 

The Doc wanted to keep an eye on you, so Krauser had agreed that it was best for you to stay in the infirmary. For how long, Leon wasn’t sure. 

You’d been smiling when you left Fort Benning but now . . . 

Then again, so many of you had been smiling, and those smiles had died slow deaths behind bars, drowned and beaten away. 

And still, those weren’t the worst pains that had been suffered. Leon could see that much in his squad’s eyes as everyone settled in for the night. Krauser had tried to get everyone to eat some food on Doc’s advice. Leon, despite the starvation that had set in behind those bars after three days, had barely any appetite. 

How could he eat, when it was clear that this had all happened because Krauser had kept his word. He’d tried to get clearance the proper way to tell his men what happened in Raccoon City, just as Leon had asked him to. How could he eat with the knowledge of that settled on his shoulders? How could he force food down when he’d come so close to yet another change in his life? What would have happened if Krauser hadn’t gotten Hellman to let him stay? He’d been so quick to dismiss the thought of being discharged before but now, when faced with the real threat of it . . .

But it didn’t matter. He and Valeria had been spared that. 

Valeria, who had not eaten until Krauser ordered her to. Who had sat at that table, staring blankly into the food in front of her, looking up when she felt Leon’s eyes on her and then quickly looking away. Seeing her like that . . . even after three days of little food or sleep and too much pain, Leon was worried for her. What had they done to her to make her so empty now?

She gave up information about her squad. What information? What had she told them? 

Leon didn’t know. But the two of them didn’t eat much. The food was never any good, anyway, so their trays remained mostly untouched.

The same was true of most everyone else, and it felt like the tables in the mess hall were surrounded by ghosts more than people. That didn’t change now, as Leon and the others changed from their bloodied, dirty clothes. How many of them would be told tomorrow morning that their time here was at an end? That all their hard work, all their dedication and service would mean nothing? Leon slipped a fresh shirt on, his hands shaking, his mind well past fraying and set to unraveling instead.

He’d suffered worse. He had to remind himself of that. 

Keep it together. 

You get to stay. You’re not the one in pain. You’re not the one lying alone in a hospital bed. You’re not the one that will be stuck there for who knows how long- 

“How’s Sarge?” 

Alenko couldn’t have known the question would just further crack Leon’s resolve. He meant well in asking it. He cared enough to do it, even if the worry in his voice was beaten out by utter fatigue. Still, it made Leon frown because you were not fine, though you’d assured him otherwise. He knew that for damn sure. 

So, he just shook his head. “Hurting,” he answered simply, the word digging its hooks into him, barely assuaged by the words you’d spoken to him as he left the infirmary. 

“Leon,” you’d called after him. “It’s not your fault.” 

Didn’t change much, in Leon’s eyes. 

Alenko nodded, sitting on his bunk, the one next to Leon’s and shaking his head. “Why the fuck would they do that?” he wondered aloud, running a hand over his face. 

And then, finally, it was Valeria who spoke. For the first time since you’d all been freed. For the first time in a long while. “Because they knew you’re friends,” she murmured, like the words pained her, and Leon felt something drop in his gut. 

“Soto gave up information about her squad.”

Just as at dinner, Valeria wasn’t able to meet Leon’s eyes and that only made that feeling of dread worsen. 

“Valeria,” he breathed, and she clenched her jaw. 

“I told them,” she forced out, her bruised face drawn into an empty expression. Leon, in the meantime, couldn’t hide his expression of horror, the stab of betrayal in his gut. Familiar, that feeling. The difference was that Valeria was bad at hiding her guilt. “They asked about you two, so I told them you were friends.” She shook her head, no doubt feeling the weight of the rest of the squad listening in, Alejandro and Shinoda and Williams and all the rest staring at her in shock. Maybe that was what made her finally look towards Leon. “I didn’t think they’d . . .” 

His bottom lip trembled, his body giving him one last surge of energy. “Why?” he demanded, overcome with fear because if she’d told them anything else . . . if they knew-

Valeria met his eyes, though, and Leon was met with a side of her he never thought he’d see. He stilled as he saw her eyes shining, even as she tried to fight the tears back. “Because they had a letter from my mom, and they said they’d let me read it if I answered them.” Leon winced, not just for the sheer pain in Valeria’s voice but for the fact that they’d almost broken him in the same way. The letter from Sherry, the promise of knowing that she was okay . . . “I guess she’s sick. That’s what they led with and-” she cut herself off, shaking her head. Her voice wavered as she spoke again. “I’m sorry. Okay? I had to know she was okay.” 

Williams was at her side in an instant, wrapping an arm around the other woman’s shoulders. Or trying to. Valeria pushed her away, and Williams just bit her lip but ultimately let her have space. 

Leon could only stare. What else was there to do? Could he condemn Valeria for what he understood? Maybe, but when he’d come so close to answering their questions, to giving up Claire . . . he’d broken when the person he cared for most, the person he’d loved, had been in pain. 

How could he judge Valeria for that? 

“It . . .” he looked down, feeling like the world was spinning around him. “It’s okay.” How could he ask if she’d told them everything? How could he find out without letting everyone else in the barracks know what was between you and him? 

Valeria must have known his worries. Of course she would. “I didn’t tell them anything else,” she promised. She wasn’t talking just about the rest of the squad, he knew, but the secret she’d kept for him and for you. As Leon looked up at her, he found no reason to doubt her. “I keep my promises.” 

He believed her. It settled his nerves, albeit slightly. “Okay,” he nodded. 

The rest of the evening was spent in silence. Sleep came to him quickly when he lay his head down but was taken just as fast by the memories of screams from behind iron bars. A man pleading for help only to have his head crushed behind a gloved hand, his screams twisting and morphing until it wasn’t that man anymore. 

It was you. 

The sound of the man’s bones breaking became indistinguishable from your own. You were screaming and Leon could do nothing about it, reaching for you through the bars of his cell, unable to stop it. 

He awoke from the dream with a jolt, his damaged body protesting as he sat up in his cot. The room was dark, but with the light streaming in through the windows he could make out the shapes of his comrades as he looked around. Normally, he would look for you and even now, he felt his eyes go towards your bunk only to find it empty as expected. What he did see, though, just one bed over, was enough to make his heart ache. Williams’ bunk was beside yours, and the lamplight highlighted a muscled arm reaching out towards the opposite side. 

And a pair of hands joined together in the space between the two beds. 

If either Williams or Valeria were awake, Leon couldn’t tell. Either way, they held onto each other in the dark, and Leon smiled at the sight. 

A smile that turned bitter, because all he wanted in that moment was to be able to do the same with you. 

⧫⧫⧫

You didn’t really remember falling asleep, only that you were alone when you did. 

You didn’t stay that way. You were never alone in your dreams. Your comrades came to you, just as they always did. 

Dead faces, dead eyes. 

So many dead. 

So much pain. Pain as you felt ice in your throat that turned to water in your lungs. Frenzied fingers trying to rip you apart that turned to fists crashing into your face. A blow with a gloved hand coiling back and then connecting with your ribs . . . and a knife coming away dripping red, leaving broken flesh and bone behind it. 

That was all it took for you to wake, and that pain stayed with you as your ribs protested your movements. 

Broken.

They were broken. 

Were you broken too? 

“Knew you wouldn’t be asleep long.” You hadn’t expected to have company out of the dream. You hadn’t expected Major Krauser’s harsh voice to greet you when you woke. As it was, you blinked, your lips parting as you tried to push yourself up - tried not to cry out as you moved. 

Focus on something else. 

The sunlight coming in through the windows. 

The red of Krauser’s beret. 

The movement of the Doc from the Major’s side to your own. 

He helped you sit up, murmuring for you to take it easy, kid. 

There were a few moments then, where Doc checked in on you, helped guide you carefully back down on the bed, where you were reminded of a day not so long ago, and not so dissimilar to this one. A day where you’d awoken in a hospital bed with broken ribs and Major Krauser standing vigil over you. 

That first time, though, he’d looked happy to see you awake at last. Now . . . now he just looked tired. 

“Here,” the Doc tried to hand you some pills and a glass of water. Painkillers.

You shook your head. Pushed them away. “I’m fine.”

There was only a debate for a second or two before Krauser’s gruff voice interrupted. “Don’t be stupid,” he said, his arms crossed over his chest, looking into your eyes with worry. “Take the damn meds.” 

It wasn’t a request. So, you found yourself downing the water the Doc handed to you to wash the pills down. When you lay back down, you were struck with a feeling, one you had hoped never to experience again. 

Weakness. 

You hated Krauser’s concerned gaze, and you hated the thoughts that you imagined were lurking just behind that stare. Thoughts of how your injury would set you back. How you couldn’t fight, couldn’t train . . . because that was all you could think of, too. Even after Leon’s attempt at comfort last night. Comfort wasn’t what the Major would offer you now, though. You felt sure enough of that. Even more so when, after a moment, he shifted his weight and looked up at the other man in the room. 

“Give us a minute, Doc,” he murmured, and the grizzled medic just looked back at him with a nod. He left the room, and Krauser watched him go. The Major’s mouth was pressed into a frown, and he met your eyes with some effort. “How you holding up?” he asked. 

If you were feeling better, you might have given him a look. You might have made a little joke about how you were feeling just peachy. 

As it was, though, you just clenched your jaw. “I’m fine, sir.” 

Krauser’s brow lowered, but he didn’t contradict you. Didn’t tell you to stop bullshitting him. He just looked at you for a while longer before he growled, shaking his head and stepping off to the side. “Son of a bitch,” he hissed out, his fury poorly contained.

You wanted to tell him that his frustrations weren’t helping you, but you knew damn well this wasn’t just about you. 

“How is everyone else, sir?” you asked. No one else had been sent to join you last night, so you assumed that there were no serious injuries. Just you. That didn’t mean that everyone was alright, though. 

Krauser all but confirmed that with his eyes before he answered. “Tired,” he admitted. “Same as you.” 

Except not. 

Not the same, because you were stuck here. You were going to be stuck in the med bay while everyone else-

You’d already beaten that thought to death. No sense in carrying on with it. 

But still . . .

“Did you know?” you asked, your voice quiet. You looked up at him, and you hoped so sincerely that his answer lined up with the image you had of the Major in your mind. You hoped that all the times you defended his harsh methods to Leon weren’t about to be thrown back in your face. “Did you know they were going to do this?” 

Krauser’s answer was immediate. 

“No,” he shook his head, meeting your eyes. “No, I didn’t know. We came looking for you all when you missed the rendezvous. Found the Humvees abandoned. I thought it was Umbrella at first, but no. Just that bastard Hellman.” You’d had the privilege of seeing the Major lower his guard before. It had been in a hospital then, as now. It let you know that the regret in his voice was genuine. 

It was enough for you. 

“Okay. And Reed?” you asked, remembering the agent’s name. The man who’d broken your ribs for a second time. 

The man you, at present, most wanted to kill. Maybe because, in your dream, his face had morphed into an even more impassive mask, one with red lenses over the eyes. 

If Krauser’s tone was any sign, dead was about all he wanted Reed to be, too. It seemed neither of you would be getting what you wanted, though. “He and Hellman will be staying on base with us.” You’d never heard the Major quite so bitter as he spoke the next few words. Part of you had expected that, though. It was just the sort of cruelty you’d come to expect from the universe. “They’re going to be training you all, the fuckers.” 

“And you?” you found yourself asking, eyes wide because you didn’t want Krauser cast to the sidelines. Whatever complicated feelings you had about the Major right now, you were sure of that. 

Krauser’s face softened at your worry, and he shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere. Just have to split the time between my shit and theirs. Orders from upstairs. Those were the terms.” 

“Terms?” you blinked but realized what the negotiation had been about.

“Yeah,” Krauser nodded, giving a bitter smile. “I got them to agree to hand over everything about Raccoon City, Finland, all of it. Everything they have on Umbrella and their bioweapons. They just needed to make sure they could ‘trust everyone getting the information’.” He shook his head, silently telling you that he thought the concept was bullshit. Or maybe it was the information itself. Maybe his frustrations were with more than just Reed and Hellman. Maybe the system as a whole. And maybe . . . “So they’ll know. The ones left, anyway. You can thank your rookie for that.” 

Even now, even with how much pain you were in, with all your worries pressing you into that hospital bed, you shook your head, finding it in you to defend Leon. “This isn’t his fault,” you said, your voice strong. Stronger than it had been in days, because you knew Leon should share none of the blame for this. 

Krauser’s eyes darkened and for a moment you thought he was going to fight you on it. So, you held his stare, trying to meet his conviction as best you could. Lying down was never a good way to put up a defense, but you did what you could.

And in the end, Krauser exhaled and nodded. “You’re right,” he said, but something in him had shifted. You could see it. “But that doesn’t change the fact that four of your squad will be sent home today.” 

Your eyes widened. Four. Four of you, no doubt those who had failed the “test”. 

“They wanted you gone, too,” he went on, and you felt your heart still, your blood chill. “You’re staying but . . . the calls on that aren’t mine to make anymore. They think someone isn’t a good fit, they send a note upstairs, you get reassigned. So you need to do everything you can to make them think you’ll be an asset if you want to stay, you understand? If you can’t train physically with the rest, you pay attention to what they teach you with all that spy shit. You learn everything you can, and you show them you need to be here.” 

You nodded, his words stoking something in you that you hadn’t been able to do for yourself. Fire. Determination. You knew he was right, and the thought of focusing on whatever those bastards had to teach you was better than the thought of sitting in a room for six weeks, letting your mind plague you. 

Krauser’s words were the spark. 

You didn’t feel better, you didn’t feel good, but you had a goal. You had something you could do, and that was almost enough for you to set aside the fact that you’d been dealt such a setback. 

You nodded, light returning to your eyes.

“I will.”

Krauser pursed his lips, and a slight shift in his expression was all the warning you were given. 

“You need to stop screwing around with the rookie, too.” 

Just a few words and that rekindled light died. 

You stared at Krauser dumbly, your mind stalling like a bullet had just gone through you and your body hadn’t quite realized it yet. 

“What?” 

Krauser didn’t look impressed by your confusion. “I’m not blind and you’re not subtle. Either of you.” 

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck-

“Reed and Hellman aren’t blind either,” Krauser went on, his eyes never leaving yours. “If they catch the two of you sneaking around, there will be consequences, and I’m losing enough men as it is.” 

You just continued to stare, feeling that old fear seeping back into you. He knew. Krauser knew. But the way he was looking at you . . . you couldn’t place the emotion on his face, even knowing him as well as you did. 

“I know that’s not what you wanna hear right now, but if you want to stay, if you want to take this fight to Umbrella, you can’t do it outside of STRATCOM and you can’t afford distractions.” 

If there was much of anything in your stomach, you might have felt like being sick because your secret was out. If it ever was a secret to begin with. You shouldn’t have been so stupid. You shouldn’t have done anything, you shouldn’t have given in to that need. Everything would have been easier that way, neither of you risking anything more than your lives. No risk of trouble . . .

But why hadn’t there been trouble? 

You looked up at Krauser after a moment, your new revelation pushing past the fear. “How long have you known?” 

Krauser, despite the disappointment you could discern in him, was still proving otherwise hard to read. He’d never looked at you like that before. Not that you could remember. “Since after assessments,” he admitted, and again you felt your stomach drop. So, that day when you and Leon thought you’d narrowly avoided a premature ending to things, he’d known. He’d known all this time and yet . . .

“Why didn’t you report it?” 

Krauser looked at you then, with that same strange expression. One you couldn’t really assign a name to. When he answered, his words were muted. Forced. “You think I wasn’t young and stupid, once? I know what it’s like to want that.” 

Was he . . .

“You’re going to fight shit the world’s never seen before,” he went on, and you could scarcely believe this was Jack Krauser you were talking to. “So long as it didn’t impact your judgment or your service, I don’t care who you’re fucking. You wanted to screw around with the pretty boy?” he spat the nickname bitterly, not with the same teasing affection you would use. “Fine. But these men will not share that opinion with me, I can guarantee you that.” 

Your throat felt constricted, your brow tied in knots. He . . . he was right. He was right but god, you didn’t want him to be. You couldn’t let Leon just slip through your fingers. 

But you may need to. 

“Don’t be stupid because it feels good,” Krauser advised, his words still quiet. “The earlier you learn that lesson, the better.” 

Again, you were silent, because that was all you could be. You looked away from the Major. The man who’d saved your life, who you respected more than any other man alive. The man who kept his gaze on you, just as unknowable. Just as strange. He knew there was nothing else to say, just as you did. 

“Get some rest,” he said, just as he had the night before. 

Then he was gone, leaving you to feel more alone than you’d been in a long time. 

⧫⧫⧫

Andersen. Shinoda. Lawson. Osborn. 

Those were the four that Krauser called to speak with the next day. The four that had broken. The four that would be gone, come tomorrow. 

They weren’t people that Leon was close with. Not really. But he’d trained with them. Lived with them. Learned from them. And because Reed and Hellman deemed it so, they would be sent back to wherever they came from. Leon watched them go, knowing full well what would happen to them. What could have happened to him. Had they been spared, in the long run? They would never have to know the horrors that awaited the rest of them. Was it better to have broken? 

No. Not for him. Not for you. 

So he held his head up as Hellman stepped in front of the squad - what remained of it. Eleven where there had been fifteen. “The Major and I agreed that you be given today to rest and recuperate,” he said, and Leon’s eyes hardened at the mere sound of his voice, and his body tensed. Like it was bracing for what was to come. “Tomorrow, we will begin.” 

Chapter Text

They had the day off, but the first thing that everyone wanted was answers.

To his credit, Krauser took the time to answer them all as best he could. 

“Why didn’t you warn us?” 

“I didn’t know.”

“Do they have the authority to even do that?” 

“. . . Yes.” 

“What are they so afraid of us blabbing about?” 

“You’ll be learning that in the coming weeks.” 

“Are those assholes really going to be staying?” 

“Yes.”

Leon stood in the back as the rest of the squad learned what he already knew: what they’d suffered for. What some of them were being sent home for. No one was happy with the answers given, but most understood. Leon understood. The reasoning, at least. Not the practice. Not the torture. He would never understand that. 

Nor would he understand the answer to the question Valeria hissed out, one that had been eating away at Leon, too. The one thing he wasn’t reasonably sure of, on Krauser’s end regarding the whole experience. 

“They had our letters,” she said, her foot tapping against the floor beneath where she sat on her bunk. “From months back.” 

Leon watched shadow overtake Krauser’s eyes, that crease between his brows deepening. 

“Hadn’t heard from my mom. Is it because they held those letters from us?” 

Krauser nodded once, his gaze unwavering even if it was full of regret. “Yes.” 

“And you knew?” Valeria pressed, hurt evident in her features. 

Another pause, before Krauser nodded. “Yes. STRATCOM procedure. No communication with the world outside during training.” 

“So any letters we sent home . . .” 

“. . . Were never sent.”

Top-secret shit, even before the bioweapons were brought into play. 

Not that it made the pill any easier to swallow. 

Still, the Major didn’t try to shift the blame off of himself, even as Valeria fixed him in a scalding glare. If looks could kill, Jack Krauser would be a pile of ash on the ground. “That’s bullshit,” Valeria snapped. “Sir.” 

“Watch that tone, Soto,” Krauser met her, steel for steel. Leon had seen the man make soldiers give him fifty push-ups for mouthing off . . . but he’d also seen him allow Leon to speak his mind. He’d seen the Major listen to Leon’s own concerns, even if the Major seemed to like quite literally everyone else better than him. So, even if he barked at Valeria now, Leon wasn’t surprised when a moment later, the Major just gave her an apologetic look. There were a lot of those that he gave that morning, until there were no more questions. 

None that anyone was brave enough to ask, anyway. 

Their personal effects were passed back out to them - the ones that had been abandoned in the Humvees when Reed and Hellman had taken the squad. Three days ago. Three days and a lifetime, it felt like. 

Just like how Raccoon City felt like a lifetime in one night. 

Pain had a way of doing that, didn’t it? Warping the world. A day became forever, forever became attached to the idea of something terrible. A cage with no bars. He wondered how long he and the rest would be stuck in that cage? How long the bruises would take to heal, how often, like last night, someone would hear movement in the barracks and jolt awake, expecting a blow for having fallen asleep . . .

Everyone was still so quiet as they unloaded their freshly returned packs. Hard not to be when Andersen and the other three who had failed were there, not bothering to join in the unpacking. What was the point if they were going to be gone by tomorrow anyway?

As for the rest, the day was theirs to do with as they pleased, and no one had any idea how to spend that free time. 

Not until heavy footfalls against the floor made Leon and those around him - Alenko, Williams and Valeria - look up, and they found the Major standing there, his hands behind his back. He looked at each of them, gaze sweeping from right to left before landing on Leon and hardening. Sharpening. Leon was sure then that he was about to hear a speech about his failure. About how he’d broken and the only reason that he and Valeria were being allowed to stay were because of Krauser’s own intervention. Or maybe that this entire thing was because of a request that Leon made. He could think of no other reason for the loathing in that stare. 

Instead, the Major looked back at the group as a whole. “Heard you had some trouble back at Fort Benning,” he said, and Leon’s brow furrowed. So the conversation wasn’t going to be about the beatings taken in those cells, but rather the one that he and the others had taken in defense of one another. “Got a call from Commander Cortez a few days back. Said you got into a fight. That you put twelve of his men in the hospital. That true?” 

That, too, seemed like a lifetime ago. Alenko was the one to nod and answer Krauser’s question. “Yes, sir.” He frowned as he spoke, the expression tugging at the splotches of blue and purple on his face. 

Krauser nodded once, his face set in stone. 

“Good,” he finally said, and Leon recognized veiled pride in his eyes. “Make sure you don’t end up in the hospital too, next time.” 

It was one of the few orders that Major Krauser had given in his time here that Leon agreed with. 

Of course, when the Major unclasped his hands and tossed what he’d been holding onto the bunk nearest him, Leon felt an entirely different wave of emotion sweep through him. The little radio rolled onto its back as it landed amidst the scratchy blankets, leaving a flash of recognition to cross Williams’ and Alenko’s faces as they saw it. The same radio that had been in Cortez’s office. The same one you’d somehow stolen for them, that you’d all been listening to on the ride home before everything went wrong. 

Krauser was giving it back to them. 

“And don’t make a habit of stealing from your Commanding Officers.” 

Leon might have laughed, under different circumstances. 

Instead, he found himself even more surprised as Krauser went on, this time looking towards Valeria. “Your letters,” he began, “they were from your mother?” Hellman must have told him, then. Or maybe Krauser had read the letters himself, after the fact. Leon hoped that wasn’t the case. He hoped he hadn’t read through Sherry’s letters before Leon even had the chance to. Still, he knew enough about the contents to ask.

Valeria’s mouth twitched down, and she nodded once in response, stiff and all too plainly upset. 

Krauser nodded too, and again Leon saw conflict in the Major’s face. Whatever combat his thoughts were doing, though, it was over quickly. “I’ll do what I can to get you clearance to write home. All of you.” 

That was all Krauser said . . . but just before he turned away, his eyes found Leon again. Fixed on him like crosshairs. The words spoken were all that were said, but Leon could see that Krauser had more to say. Something lurking just beneath the surface, unformed but sharp. Leon only glimpsed it for a moment, but it was there all the same. Leon almost didn’t care if the Major was angry, now though. Because even if he didn’t have a home to write to, really, he could write to Sherry. 

He might be able to tell her he was sorry for not answering her letters. To tell her he was okay, to make sure that she was alright too. 

So, whatever was behind the sharp look that he received now, Leon just met that sharpness with gratitude. He didn’t get much but a moment of that gaze losing its edge. Just a second or two, and then the moment was gone, and so was Major Krauser, moving down the rows of bunks. He hesitated as he neared Andersen, the older soldier sitting on the edge of his bunk, looking shell-shocked. 

Krauser looked down at him, his jaw tensing as he reached out a hand, patting the other man on the shoulder. 

Then, lifting his chin, he left the barracks. 

More silence followed, until at last, Williams spoke up. “Looks like Sarge was right about him being proud,” she muttered, watching as he stepped through the door. 

There was no doubt in Leon’s mind. Jack Krauser was an asshole. He had a sadistic streak. He liked to push people and he would never apologize for doing it. All of that was still true. 

But maybe you’d been right about more than just Krauser being proud of you all. 

“Do you buy it?” Alenko asked, looking over at Leon. “That he didn’t know about Reed and Hellman?” He didn’t sound overly skeptical. Just like he wanted to be sure. That he needed that one last opinion that reinforced his own. 

You had faith in the Major. Leon had criticized you for that, once. 

Now he understood it better. 

“He’s telling the truth,” Leon nodded, and he could have sworn he felt hell freeze over because he was defending Krauser of all people. “You saw how he reacted to . . .” to your injury. Leon had seen it up close and personal. The shock that mutated into rage. Rage enough to make Krauser nearly do something stupid. 

“Yeah,” Alenko conceded, knowing well enough what Leon was referring to. They’d all seen the concern the Major had for you. The regret he’d hidden poorly as he answered the questions today. He had not meant you all to come to harm. Not like that. 

Didn’t change the fact that you were still going to be hospitalized for who-knew-how-long. 

“Never seen him worried like that,” Williams nodded, shaking her head. 

“Never seen Sarge hurting like that either,” Alenko said, and tensed when he felt Valeria’s gaze turn on him. She was still feeling guilty, Leon could see it. Alenko could too, shutting his mouth when he realized he’d just reminded Valeria of what she’d inadvertently caused. 

Because Reed and Hellman had asked about the two of you specifically. That’s what Valeria had said last night, and those words had Leon on edge. That’s what made him worry even now that there was danger, even now that they were all free of those cells. 

You’d told him last night that you couldn’t risk him being there, and you hadn’t known how right you’d been. 

The two of you had been obvious with your care for one another. So, even if she’d given up information about you two being close, Leon didn’t blame Valeria for what happened. Even if it was clear that she blamed herself. 

Maybe that was why, after a moment, she reached for the radio that Krauser had left on the cot in front of her, and stood. “Come on then,” she said to the group, and her voice had more resolve in it than Leon had heard in a long while. 

“Where are you-”

“We weren’t the ones that stole the radio, right? And Sarge is gonna get a lot more use out of it than we are.” 

It was a day for looking past old angers, Leon found. He hadn’t liked Valeria much before the trip to Fort Benning. That had changed steadily while there. Now, though, as she marched off in an effort to try and alleviate your loneliness, whether to lessen her guilt or because she genuinely cared for you, Leon didn’t care. What mattered was the effort. It mattered that someone besides him cared enough to think of that before he could even voice it. 

And Leon, for the first time in the last few days, smiled. He didn’t hesitate as he stood alongside her, following her as she moved towards the door. It didn’t take long before Williams and Alenko were following along, too. 

⧫⧫⧫

As soon as you heard the knock on the door, you steeled yourself. 

You weren’t sure how you were going to tell Leon. Distancing yourself had been the first instinct. You were good at that. It would be easy. Well, not easy, but doable. You’d done it once before, after all. 

It had left you feeling like shit, and it hadn’t solved anything. 

You’d both promised to talk about what you were feeling. It was a promise you regretted now that it made things more difficult, but you wanted to honor it. You owed him that much. So, you’d torn your mind apart all morning trying to put together the right words. 

Krauser knows-

Reed and Hellman will be watching-

We can’t-

All of them seemed like bullshit, even if the concerns Krauser had raised were valid. Real. Just as the happiness that Leon Kennedy brought you was real, too. The most real thing you’d felt in months, besides that old and aching pain that you could never be rid of. Pain that was dulled and, sometimes, forgotten around the man you’d come to care for so much. The man you’d watched grow into a stronger person, inside and out. The man you would take a thousand hits for. 

You couldn’t just let that go. 

So when you heard that knock, you weren’t sure what the hell you were supposed to do because Leon wouldn’t want to end this. Not now. And neither did you. 

The door opened and you found yourself speaking on instinct alone. “You shouldn’t be in here,” you repeated the words from the night before, not looking up from that spot on the floor you’d chosen as yours. 

And then you regretted not looking up as soon as you heard a smoky but strained voice reply. “Nice to see you too.” 

Your head snapped up and you pushed yourself up from bed, thanking the pain meds in your system for allowing the movement. Valeria didn’t wait to be invited in. Neither did any of the three people following her. Alenko and Williams gave you gentle, apologetic smiles as they followed the shorter woman in, and you felt your heart splinter because you’d thought to spend this day alone, like the last time. You thought you’d have to push Leon away the moment he stepped through the door, just for the sake of keeping up appearances. 

Instead, you found yourself looking at your squadmates with wide eyes. 

And when Leon did walk through the door, you felt that splintered heart break apart when he smiled at you. 

“Hey,” he greeted, and you knew this conversation was going to hurt. Both of you. 

But what conversation was it going to shape up to become? 

You didn’t know, and, as you looked at the four visitors in front of you, you decided that maybe you didn’t want to know, either. 

“Hey,” you said. “What are you all-”

“We got the day off,” Valeria answered. “Figured you could use the company.” 

“If you wanted it,” Leon added, giving you an understanding look. 

You’d been alone during your recovery from Finland. Krauser had checked in on you when he could, but he had a life and duties to attend to. The nurses that pitied you had made for shitty companions. Not that you’d wanted anyone, anyway. Solitude. That had been your companion and your shield. You’d thought just Leon had the ability to break down that barricade around you. 

You’d been wrong. 

It wasn’t quite a smile that you gave the group as you nodded, but it was close enough. “Okay.” 

That surprise and that slight smile only grew as Valeria held out her arm and presented you with none other than the little radio you’d stolen from Cortez’s office. “Think you’re missing this, too.” 

You weren’t sure what to think as you took the radio from her. Valeria seldom did anything without cause. What was her reasoning for this? For being, well, downright kind to you? You didn’t know, and, honestly? In that moment, when you had been so sure you’d been condemned to isolation in every possible way, you decided that you didn’t care, either. 

So, you settled the radio between your hands, fighting back the new kind of pain in your chest. One not born of your cracked ribs or the fear that Krauser’s words had instilled in you. 

This pain was sweeter. One you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, looking from Valeria, to Leon, and then the rest. 

Valeria just shrugged. “You’re no fun when you’re miserable. So pick a station and let’s fucking relax for once.” 

You couldn’t really argue with that, so you flipped switches and dials until you heard a synth beat and vocals you hadn’t heard in so long. A song from another life. 

“. . . there’s no turning back.”

“Even while we sleep . . .”

“Shit,” Alenko smiled wide as he took a seat a ways away from the bed you sat in. “I love this song!”

Williams just nodded, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the wall. “Least it’s not the Spice Girls,” she mumbled over her split lip before she looked over at the rest of you who, back in the Humvee, had made her sit through one of their songs. It seemed her opinion of them hadn’t improved. “Respectfully, they’re shit.” The near-apology was delivered with a near-smile to match. 

“Well, Williams,” you found yourself saying, even if your words were muted by the ordeal you’d just been through. Still, there was something familiar there. Something you’d rediscovered at Fort Benning, and were glad to find at your fingertips now; humor. That was what ever-so-slightly colored your words as you told Williams, “ respectfully, go fuck yourself.” 

An Army brat like you, Williams just smirked right back. 

“Help me make the-”

“Most of freedom and of pleasure-”

“Nothing ever lasts forever . . .” 

It made it easier, having them there. There weren’t many words, but there didn’t need to be. You all just listened to the song as it played, finding a comfortable state of quiet between each other. Valeria moved to lean against the wall by Williams’ side. Leon . . . you could tell he wanted to move closer to you. You wanted that too. You wanted it to be just the two of you, like in the hospital in Fort Benning, but Krauser’s warning hung over your head. 

“There’s a room where the light won’t find you-”

“Holding hands as the walls come tumbling down-”

“When they do, I’ll be right behind you . . .”

Being alone with him was dangerous, more so now than it ever had been. That didn’t change simply because you wanted his presence or company. Your desire for him wouldn’t be pitied in a court martial. Not if Reed and Hellman were already looking at you like an infected limb that needed to be cut away.

You needed to heal, and Leon needed to finish this training. You both did. You’d just never thought it would be apart. 

“So glad we almost made it . . .”

So . . . you would be alone with him one more time. At least for a while. 

“So sad they had to fade it . . .”

You hoped he would understand that this was for the best, for now. 

The song eventually finished and you looked up to meet his eyes. You’d learned to speak without words to each other, now. So many stolen glances and nights spent side by side, in training or with him pressed up against the wall of the mess hall, you had a language all your own. Insight into each other’s thoughts. And as you looked into those ocean blues, you saw your own thoughts reflected back at you. 

There was a talk to be had, and both of you knew it. 

⧫⧫⧫

The day went on and eventually the others left. Alenko was first, saying he was going to go in search of food. Had to be desperate, to want what the mess hall served, but Leon didn’t begrudge him. The hunger of those three days had left them all empty just as much as the rest of the experience had. 

Williams went next, saying she needed to move, to make up for those days spent in captivity. Valeria didn’t take much convincing when asked to join her.

Leon almost told them to be careful. To not let the agents see them. 

To not end up in the predicament that the two of you were in. 

A situation that became clear and present, once the two of you were left alone, the radio playing on. 

“How are you feeling?” He knew what the answer would be, but he asked anyway.

“They gave me pain meds,” you shrugged as best you could, “so not that bad right now.” 

At least there was that. Even if you shouldn’t have had to be in the infirmary in the first place. “Have they told you how long you’ll be on bed rest?” Leon asked, because he didn’t want to have the other conversation. Not yet. 

The mirth that had been present on your face, however muted, faded. “It was a six week recovery last time. For the bones.” 

“Six?” The number sounded so much worse than what Leon had imagined. He remembered his own long recovery from the gunshot wound he’d suffered in Raccoon City. It had seemed long then, but he hadn’t been kept from anything. It hadn’t stopped him from living his life. Not that he’d done much living after that night anyway. Still, he couldn’t imagine what this was like to you, because it would be six weeks without physical training. Six weeks without sparring, without being able to clear your head in the way Leon knew you would need. Six weeks of what would be hell to you. 

And if you couldn’t train for combat like the rest of them . . . would you be able to graduate with the rest? With him? 

“You need to keep practicing,” you told him, and by the stiffness of your words, Leon could tell that you were thinking of exactly what he was thinking of. It sounded like you were telling him to go on without you. “Train with the others, but ask Krauser to spar too. He’s the best. He’ll kick your ass, but he’ll make you better.”

“You say that like you’re not gonna-”

“I’m not gonna be able to spar with you, Leon. Not for a while. I’m not gonna be there. You can’t let yourself fall behind with me.” 

The words, while well intentioned, were painful to hear aloud. True, but painful because after months of training with you, he couldn’t imagine not being by your side. He didn’t want to have to train for hell on earth and not know that you would be there to face it with him. 

But you were right. 

As unfair as it was, as completely and utterly shitty, you were right. 

“Okay,” he nodded. “But then when you’re better, we’ll catch you back up.” Because he knew you would need it. He knew you’d want it, too. That after so long letting your body heal, you would want nothing more than to throw yourself back into the swing of things. 

The trouble was-

“Leon . . .” you shook your head, and he knew that the conversation he’d dreaded was here. “Krauser knows.” 

Just like that, the color drained from his face. You’d never been one to beat around the bush, but those words were like being doused in ice water.

“About . . .”

“Us.” 

He felt a pit open up in his stomach that threatened to turn him inside-out, and all he could do was sit on the bed beside you. The jaws were closing in. Had that been the cause of that look from Krauser earlier? Had the Major been looking at him with such disdain because of that?

“. . . Fuck.” It was really all he could say. Why even warn you about Reed and Hellman if the game was already over . . .

“He’s not going to report it.” 

. . . or maybe not as over as Leon had thought. 

“What?” he blinked, turning to look at you without bothering to hide his confusion. Major Krauser hadn’t exactly been by the books, as far as Leon knew, but he’d been so adamant about respecting the order of things. This whole mess had happened because he’d not wanted to step outside the bounds of red tape. Why the hell hadn’t he reported fraternization? 

“Said he doesn’t care. But he also said that Reed and Hellman will.” 

Leon nodded, trying to reconcile all the mismatched thoughts and solutions buzzing around his mind. 

“So he’s saying he won’t stop us but if we get found out we’re fucked.” 

You just nodded, the air growing heavier and heavier with each moment. Because Leon knew where this was going, just as much as you did. 

Leon pursed his lips, looking down. “They asked about us during the interrogations,” he finally said. “Reed and Hellman. Valeria told me they were asking.” 

It was your turn to frown, he could see it out of the corner of his eyes. He wouldn’t rat Valeria out, but you deserved to know that the agents were onto you, even if Krauser wouldn’t be the one to confirm it.

Why wouldn’t he confirm it?

“Then they’ll be watching.” 

Leon nodded once, feeling emptiness beginning to set in. “So what do you want to do?” he asked, dreading the answer because he’d heard the distance in your voice last night, and he could hear it even then. He’d heard it once before, after you’d kissed him that first night and tried to convince yourself and him that it was a mistake. 

The difference was that, then, he’d seen that emptiness in your eyes, too. He’d seen you retreating into yourself. 

He knew you well enough now to know that the look that he saw in your eyes didn’t match the attempt at distance in your voice. Because, as you turned your gaze up towards him, Leon could see only conflict. Only you, a casualty of the crossfire between what your mind had to be telling you and what your heart wanted. When you answered, that conflict was all the more apparent. “You know what I want. But we have to be smart about this. Because if Krauser knows - and has for months now - then Reed and Hellman will pick up on it too, and they’re already gunning to cut me for this shit,” you gestured down to your ribs, and Leon swore he heard your voice waver.  

“They wanted me out, too,” Leon admitted, and he watched some fear seep into your expression. “Krauser convinced them to let me stay.” 

And again, Leon found himself wondering why?

“They wanted . . . why?” you asked. Why they’d wanted Leon gone - that’s what you were asking about. 

“Because I broke,” he admitted, his voice hushed. Not ashamed, but overwhelmed by other emotions. “When they were hurting you, I had to get them to stop. So I was going to tell them what they wanted to know. Right before Krauser got there.” 

You looked at him then, silent, your eyes piercing his own. Searching and seeing straight through him, just as you always had. 

You had suffered on account of him. It was the last thing he ever wanted for you, but you’d endured it. You’d taken pain for him, in fights and behind bars, and you’d been taking pain from him for far longer. With your company, with your touch. You’d helped each other learn to walk again. It was what had made him fall in love with you, even if it had been something that happened to him at the end of your knife. 

He loved you. So, he made a decision. 

“Look,” he went on, turning to face you more, feeling something in him building. A resolve or a desperate hope, he wasn’t sure. “I’ll focus on training. I’ll work with Krauser, I’ll . . . I’ll only visit you with the others, if you think it’ll be less suspicious. But I’m not leaving you here by yourself. I’m not letting go of this. I can’t do that. Not if you don’t want to let go, either.” 

He watched you, feeling emotion overtaking him. Bearing down on him, nearly making him shake because it had all been too much. Raccoon City. STRATCOM. All the hurts he’d suffered - that you’d suffered - and the best thing to come from it all had been this. You. 

So, his throat constricting, he hoped that you felt the same way. 

For a moment, he worried, because you were staring at him like he was something you could never have. He saw the regret in your eyes, the tension in your body, like you were bracing for some great pain. It all faded, though, and the corners of your mouth turned up just a bit. The dark of night graying as the sun tried to appear once more. 

It was all the warning he had before your lips were on his, and Leon felt the resolve he’d built up for months, the guard he’d put around himself in that prison, crumble. Emotion and relief flooded him, and his hand shook a bit as he lifted it to your face. It was different from the kisses the two of you had stolen in the shadows. Different than the sweet one he’d given you in the hospital at Fort Benning. This was all longing. Wordless in its declaration. He held you gently, no longer needing to memorize the feel of you but trying to hold on to every detail anyway. 

Because he didn’t know when he’d next get the chance to kiss you. Or hold you. Or be with you the way he wanted. 

But he wasn’t letting go. 

“I don’t want to let go, either,” you told him, your lips against his. “I don’t know when we’ll be able to-”

“Neither do I,” Leon admitted, as the words tore at him. “But . . . we’ll find a way.” 

He had to believe that. 

He had to believe that this wedge being driven between the two of you wouldn’t change what he felt. And to that end, he would watch. He would find moments of safety for the two of you, he would learn to play the spy game if it meant he could steal a few heartbeats with you. He’d wait for those moments, and he’d wait for you. 

However long it took. 

Chapter Text

There was no return to normalcy. No getting back into a comfortable cycle of pain and perseverance. How could there be, when the squad reported for First Call and you weren’t there? Leon had always felt galvanized in your presence. Your strength was his own. When he felt like he wasn’t sure he could go on, you’d been there, urging him forward. As morning drills began that first day, it wasn’t just his aching muscles and bruises that held him back. 

You can’t let yourself fall behind with me.  

His time in STRATCOM had taught him that he had a bit of a problem with authority, but he obeyed your words anyway. 

Even if it would mean moving past you. 

Even if it meant listening to the teachings of the men who did this to you, because true to his promise, Hellman was there to greet the squad for morning drills. Krauser looked just as angry as he had the day before. If the Major’s smile meant a world of hurt for the recruits of the US Strategic Command, then what did his scowl mean? 

Leon supposed he would be finding out soon. 

It was the final phase of training. That was what Krauser announced that first morning; that in eight weeks, if he and the others could pass the tests, they would graduate and be assigned into service. He would be an operative of STRATCOM. An agent of the United States. 

Not a soldier. 

Not what you or any of the others had been before this, but an agent, like Reed and Hellman. The two would indeed be assisting Krauser in training, offering lessons in the more shadowed of services. Secrets and broken locks and false names. The blacked-out text on a report. That was what he would become. 

That was what he would become without you. 

Six weeks until you recovered. 

Eight weeks remaining in training. 

The number was sobering. Staggering. The other recruits, the rest of his squad, didn’t know what that meant yet. They weren’t aware of what they were about to be facing down. 

They would learn soon enough, though. 

They would learn about Raccoon City, about the bioweapons created by Umbrella, and then they would graduate and be sent off to fight nightmares made flesh. They would be forced to see and fight and kill things that Leon had never imagined before that one night last September. 

Eight weeks before they were all sent to hell. 

And while he would be out there, fighting, you would be stuck here, trying to catch up for the time you lost. He tried not to let himself get lost in that thought too much as he pushed his injured body through Krauser’s ever-more difficult exercises - and Krauser’s still-sharp glares. The pain of it all was familiar enough now that he could endure it. He ran harder and faster, strained through the near-failing of his muscles as he carried the ammunition case across the obstacle course, not letting himself drop the added weight. He did all of that because he knew that, in eight weeks, his newfound strength and speed might be all that saved his life from some newfound horror. 

And, however he felt about them, he knew that whatever skills Reed and Hellman were here to teach might do the same. So, he swallowed his anger when he reported to the two agents with the rest of the squad later that day, gathered together in a room that reminded Leon of his time in the police academy, with desks and a projector. 

He didn’t bother to hide his sneer when Hellman began his speech. Even as he was reminded of who the real enemy was. 

“You were all chosen for STRATCOM based on exemplary performance or impressive feats,” Hellman began, and again, Leon was put off by just how different he sounded, now. How genuine. “Most of you have served with distinction, and I have no doubt that you would have had impressive careers - that you still will . . . but now that you are on this path, it isn’t glory that you’ll be getting. There won’t be medals or ceremonies. What would have brought you accolades before can never be spoken of, now. Your service will be hidden from the world, because you will be keeping that world safe from threats that it can never know are real.

“You will be the first line of defense against things the world has never seen. You may not receive glory for it, but your country will owe you a debt it can never repay.” 

The noble sacrifices. 

Leon tried not to scoff at Hellman’s wording, because he made it sound so heroic. Leon knew better. He knew that they wouldn’t be the unsung knights in shining armor. They would be the living shields for the world. Ones that would be cast aside when they broke at last, just as Andersen and the others already had been. 

But who else could it be? 

“And what exactly is it that we’re going to be fighting?” Valeria asked, not bothering to offer respect to the man who hadn’t earned it. “Who was so dangerous that you had to fucking torture us to test our strength?” 

Hellman didn’t react to her insubordination, but Leon tensed because Valeria very nearly hadn’t been allowed to be here. 

Just like him. 

We’ll need every soldier we can get.  

That and Krauser’s influence had been all that spared them. That knowledge that the fight they were preparing for was unlike anything the world had seen before, against an enemy unlike any other. 

“The Umbrella Corporation.” 

Confusion was the first thing that Leon felt in the room. “The pharmaceutical company?” Alejandro clarified with a raised brow. “We’re going to be taking down people in lab coats?” 

He didn’t know. None of them did. But Leon had reacted the same way, once. He’d not believed Ada when she’d told him that the company had created the horrors that now haunted his dreams and waking moments alike. Then he’d seen it firsthand. He owed a bullet-sculpted scar on his shoulder to one of those people in lab coats. And he owed months of restless nights to them too. 

“Not the scientists, necessarily,” Hellman shook his head, and Reed stepped forward. 

“Breathe a word of what you see in this room, and you will be tried for treason.” That was all the warning that was given before he reached forward. The agent flipped a switch on the projector to turn it on, and laid a semi-transparent image over the glass. There were murmurings of disgust. Surprise. Confusion. For Leon, though, it wasn’t some newfound terror. Even blurred and black and white, the image was one Leon recognized immediately. Rotting flesh falling away from bone and muscle. Teeth bared and darkened with viscera. A hand with bloodied nails reaching towards the camera.

Leon’s body reacted before his mind. Muscles tensing. Heart stuttering. He had to repress the urge to run. To aim his gun and fire desperately, even if he was sitting in a room miles and months away from Raccoon City. Even if he was just looking at an image taken from what had to have been that night or the days before it. 

It was good - or, perhaps, not so good - to know that his memory when it came to the zombies was clear. Crystal and cruel. 

“You’ll be fighting the bioweapons they create.” Hellman announced, letting the knowledge sink in. 

There it was. The truth that Leon had wanted the men and women around him to know. And now that it was there, he almost felt guilt for that, too. Guilt, because he wished he didn’t have the knowledge he possessed. 

No. Better they know. Better they’re prepared. 

“This image was taken during the Raccoon City outbreak, and is just one of many reported variants of bioweapons that were found in the city.” The energy in the room shifted, then, because even if they didn’t know the truth of the matter, everyone in the country had heard of Raccoon City. The strange disease that had broken out, and the city’s destruction to keep it from spreading. Not untrue, Leon supposed. Just omitting key details. Redacted information. Cover-ups. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that this was the path his life would take, going from one ghost-story to another. And even now, it seemed there would be more lies of omission. “According to our intel, there was an accidental release of viral weaponry in Umbrella labs beneath Raccoon City. Reanimation of corpses as well as drastic, fast-acting mutations were characteristics of said viruses. They were transmitted through water contamination and, later, through bites or scratches. The viruses escaped into the city and reports of violent individuals started popping up in mid September. By September thirtieth, the situation was deemed uncontainable.” 

And then Raccoon City, along with the monsters in it and those people still trying to survive within it had been wiped off the map. Nevermind that this had happened because one doctor had offered the US that same viral weaponry in exchange for his safety. Nevermind that maybe none of this would have happened if they’d just taken the man into custody from the start. 

Leon supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by the exclusion of that information, either. These men needed everyone in this room on their side. On the country’s side. 

“This is what the Major’s been training you for. Fighting against something that can wipe out a city in a week,” Hellman went on, clasping his hands behind his back. "We will endeavor to teach you how to avoid that fight. How to find the people responsible for the creation of these bioweapons before they can utilize them.” 

Tracking down Umbrella before another outbreak could happen, in other words. Cutting the head off the snake before it could bite anyone else. 

Too little, too late, Leon knew, because the cat was out of the bag, now. If the US knew, then other countries probably did too. Umbrella was a company. They would protect their interests, their assets. Viral weaponry that could “wipe out a city in a week” had to look good to someone out there. It had looked good to the US, after all. 

“The training we give you in the following weeks will never be complete,” Hellman warned, pale eyes sweeping the room of soldiers in front of him. “We could never give you full CIA-level instruction in time to send you after Umbrella. What we can give you are the tools we believe will help you to find and stop them.”

Not soldiers. Not CIA. Something else. New weapons for a new war. 

“They have facilities across the world,” Reed said, speaking in that usual cold timbre that made Leon’s hackles rise. “You’ll need to learn to adapt to new environments. Speak new languages. Pass where you’re not supposed to.” 

“And if we’re caught somewhere we’re not supposed to be?” Alenko asked from Leon’s side, picking up on what Reed was implying immediately. 

Leon already knew the answer before Hellman even spoke it. “The world can’t know about our operations any more than they can know about Umbrella’s research,” he said, adding to the gravity of the room. “But you were all chosen for your skill, and allowed to continue this training for the strength of your wills.” For holding out under interrogation. Leon didn’t miss how Reed’s eyes landed on him, then. He ignored that biting gaze, just as he’d been ignoring Krauser’s all day. 

“So if we get captured, if we die out there,” Alenko went on, his usual jovial tone gone, “then we shouldn’t expect anyone to come get us. That’s what you’re saying?” 

To his credit, the look Hellman gave in return actually looked understanding. Sympathetic, even. That didn’t change the fact that he was promising them unaided struggles and unmarked graves. “As I said, your work won’t bring you glory. But it will be more important than anything you’ve done in your lives.” 

Lives that could be turned into hollow shells. That could be warped and mutated into mindless violence. 

With or without the influence of a virus. 

But with nowhere to go but forward, Leon tried not to let those thoughts rule him. There were other things to think about. 

Things that the rest of the squad were thinking of too, by the time dinner rolled around.  

It had been quiet for so many reasons since the interrogations, but now there was an added layer of heaviness. Worry had carved creases across the foreheads of Leon’s squad, a sharp contrast to the exhausted but otherwise unburdened lower-level squads sitting at other tables. Young men and women who didn’t know yet what they would be facing. 

“So,” Williams finally said, trying to break the silence with hushed humor, “I guess we’ll all be able to put ‘monster hunter’ on our resumes after this. Not that anyone will ever see those resumes.” 

Leon wanted to smile at that, but all he could think of was dead hands and rotting breath and gnashing teeth. 

No one else laughed, either, their thoughts no doubt stuck on the images they’d seen earlier. The agents hadn’t told them everything yet. They’d have a hard time doing that in one day. Today was about fear, Leon knew that. Scaring everyone shitless so they’d respect the reality of the situation, like at Fort Benning when Cortez explained how a wrong move in a tank could earn you crushed limbs. With tanks, though, there was a field manual to understand; a list of knowns. With bioweapons . . . “How the hell are we supposed to fight those things?” Alenko asked, keeping his voice down so those cadets who didn’t know what awaited them couldn’t hear. 

And Leon knew then that he could help. That he could give his friends an edge before even the CIA did. So, he answered quietly, trying to adopt the easy authority you used when giving corrections in sparring. “The zombies, you shoot in the head,” he said, and all attention at the table turned to him. “Higher-caliber rounds work best. The more of the brain you can destroy, the better.” 

His squad looked at Leon like they were seeing him in a brand new light, realization slowly dawning across their faces. 

“There are other things, though. Different weak spots. None of them go down easy.” Because even once you knew where to shoot, where to place those bullets, it all came down to whether there was actually an opportunity to do so. Whether one had the ammunition required, or the moment needed to aim. “You have to be smart,” he warned, letting memory weigh down his words, “and you have to know when to run.” 

There was a beat of silence as Alejandro leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience, brother.” 

All sorts of secrets coming out lately, Leon thought as he nodded once.  

“I am. I was there. In Raccoon City.” 

He knew how he’d been thought of when he first arrived. He wasn’t blind to the judgmental stares when he’d struggled. The whispers that that kid’s gonna get himself killed. It was strange to be seen by everyone as you’d seen him so early on. 

“Son of a bitch,” Alejandro muttered, in disbelief. 

“How the hell did you make it out of there?” Alenko asked, and Leon wished he had a better answer. 

“Luck.” 

That was what it had come down to. His skill with a gun, his ability to think on his feet, they’d helped, but it had been luck that he’d been near those who could save him when skill alone failed him. Luck that had given him the tools he needed to survive. Skill, certainly, but luck was the reason he was still alive. 

He couldn’t change luck, though. 

So, he would focus on the two of those things that he could control. 

⧫⧫⧫

The Major didn’t look happy to see him. Not that it surprised Leon at all. 

He’d held out for a few days. He’d been focused in that time on throwing himself into the new lessons Reed and Hellman led. Languages, communication, codes, hell, even some hacking and lock-picking. All skills that may save Leon’s life, but not the ones he’d need if he ever came up against another monster that could fold a helicopter in two. Not that a knife would do much against such power either, he supposed. Still, he wanted to be ready. Had to be. For a while, he thought that he could get away with only sparring with Williams, Valeria and Alenko. Alejandro had joined them, and every so often so would the other members of the squad. Sparring while Leon told them of the hard-earned wisdom he had collected that night in Raccoon City. They were good, there was no denying that. But they weren’t you. They lacked your speed. Your instinct. Your gift for violence, earned not because you were a violent person but because you’d had such unspeakable violence done to you. You’d been a whetstone for his skill, and if all he had was eight weeks, then he needed them to be sharper than ever. 

So, he took your advice because you were right. Krauser was the best fighter on base. If you couldn’t spar, then Leon had to find other ways to become better. Even as Major Krauser scowled at him as he approached and all Leon could think of was the fact that he knew. 

He knew, and he wasn’t saying anything. 

Why wasn’t he saying anything? 

How long had he known?

What had he seen?

Another set of thoughts to be set aside. If Krauser wasn’t going to make trouble for you and Leon, then it was a situation that Leon could ignore. 

God, he really hoped he could ignore it.

It was a little difficult when the Major kept on looking at Leon like he wished he would cease to exist. Leon thought for certain that the man’s mood would brighten a touch when asked to spar. Beating the shit out of Leon had to be something he’d be interested in, right? 

“What? Your friends can’t be bothered?” Krauser grumbled. 

“My friends are taking the night off,” Leon shot back, because, frankly, he was tired of the angry glares. Tired of all the bullshit. His time here was ending, and it was Krauser’s job to make sure he survived after the fact. “I need a sparring partner.” 

What he got was an ass-kicking. Not that he’d expected otherwise. 

Still, Leon allowed himself to be proud of the fact that he actually put up a fight. He remembered sparring with Krauser all those months ago, how easily the Major had wiped the floor with him. It made each strike he earned against Krauser’s skin feel all the more vindicating. He’d gotten used to defeat thanks to you, and he’d always been able to get back up, even before that. A good thing, too, because Krauser was fighting like he had a score to settle. 

A kick with the force of a freight train hit Leon in the stomach, sending him falling backwards with a grunt. The Major didn’t waste any time, rushing to the ground with an overhead stab. Leon rolled out of the way just in time, hearing the scraping of metal against dirt. Dust washed over him, sent in a wave by the blade of Krauser’s knife, just enough getting into his eyes that his vision wavered. 

Unable to see, his heart rate spiked, trying to urge him to get up. To defend himself. He felt Krauser’s hand close around his wrist - the one whose hand held the knife. 

Leon acted quickly, bringing his other hand up, taking the knife. Slashing out almost blindly. Luck was on his side once again as he felt steel scrape against steel, parrying Krauser’s attack. The force of the blades meeting sent tremors through Leon’s arm, and it was through sheer will and memories of your words that he held onto the knife. 

His vision cleared and he was in a better position to attack, so he slashed at the Major’s wrist, freeing his own in the process. 

The two men got to their feet, putting some distance between each other. 

Krauser didn’t look impressed. “Thought with all that extra sparring you’d be better than this,” he said, and Leon wasn’t sure if it was a good sign that he was talking shit. Was it a return to form? Or just more anger? He might have gotten his answer when Krauser went on with words like a slap to the face. “Guess you weren’t really paying attention to the fights though, were you?” 

Leon knew it was bait. He could recognize that. Still, it was a shock to the system to hear Krauser imply it so openly. Even as a taunt, Leon hadn’t expected to hear it. It was just enough of a surprise that when Krauser rushed him, the younger man fumbled.

The feint was just fast enough for Leon to fall for it, and as he chased Krauser’s blade with his own - or where it would have slashed across his stomach - he nearly didn’t move fast enough to avoid the slash across his throat. You were fast, but Krauser? It was fighting you but dialed up to eleven, and it was too much for a fatigued and still-bruised Leon to handle. The blunted blade grazed his neck as he threw himself backwards. Off-balance, he nearly found himself losing his footing as Krauser pressed the attack, switching the knife to his left hand and thrusting it forward. Leon twisted his arm, getting his knife on the inside of the attack, his other hand going for the replacement . . . 

Too late, and he coughed and sputtered as Krauser swung his knife up and over Leon’s shoulder and sent it point-first into the side of his throat. Even if the Major was pulling the blow back, it landed hard enough that Leon knew he’d have a new bruise tomorrow. 

“Sloppy,” the Major shook his head as he pulled the blade away, stepping back. 

Leon retreated away, pressing a hand to the newly hurting spot on his neck. The pain was kindling for his anger - he’d moved past the frustrations of losing in these sparring matches, but he felt it now all the same. 

So he attacked first, this time. Hoping to catch the Major off-guard. 

He nearly had him, too, after a quick exchange. Nearly. Krauser twisted his knife inside Leon’s guard and switched hands again, kneeing the younger man in the gut and then running his blade up Leon’s arm in a move that would have filleted the flesh from his bones if it had been real. Then he pulled the knife away and drove it into Leon’s chest. Another bruise. 

“Where’s your focus?” Krauser snarled into Leon’s ear. “Your Sergeant isn’t here. Keep your head in the game.” 

Why the fuck was he pressing the issue? 

Leon shoved Krauser away - no small feat to make that mountain of a man move - and dropped into another ready stance. Resetting into another round, even as his muscles pleaded with him to stop. 

No. He wouldn’t be given a break out there. There would be no mercy. 

That was why you’d told him to do this, Leon knew. Krauser was as close to the real thing as he was going to get, if you were unable to fight. 

So, Leon charged again. Over and over, even if he ended up on the ground nearly every time. It was those first few weeks with you all over again. Near-victories followed by crushing defeats. All ushered in, Leon knew, by Krauser’s taunts. The Major was all too aware of that fact, as he swept Leon’s legs out from underneath him. His back hit the ground yet again, and this time Krauser didn’t even bother to go for a pin or a finishing move. 

“What did I tell you about being distracted?” the Major sneered, tossing his knife up and catching it in one smooth motion. “Because it’s the people who get distracted out there that end up dying.” 

“I’m not-”

“Don’t bullshit me. You have a weak spot and you’re letting me exploit it.” A weak spot. Leon had never once thought of you that way. You kept him going. You’d given him strength in the worst days at STRATCOM. Even during the days spent in those cells, the silent looks you would give him often felt like all that was keeping him sane. 

And then they’d beaten you in front of him, and Leon had broken. 

“You think I’m the only one who will figure it out?” The question was quiet, but cut straight to the bone. It was what you and Leon had talked about, all those nights ago. The last time in days that he’d seen you. And it was killing him. It hurt not to train with you. To get those reassuring looks when no one else was looking. 

You’d told him from the beginning that this life didn’t guarantee that the two of you would be together. 

He couldn’t let your absence drag him down. 

But he was frustrated and hurt, so he looked up at Krauser from the ground with a glare. “Why not report it, then?” Leon challenged, because that question had been eating away at him. “Why not let Reed and Hellman kick me out like they wanted to?” 

Krauser’s eyes flashed, and Leon knew that he’d overplayed his hand, admitting that he’d heard that conversation. 

“Get up, rookie,” the Major ordered, “and focus, or maybe I’ll change my mind and let them send you home.” 

Leon wasn’t sure if Krauser was serious or not, at this point. 

Whatever the case, he pushed himself up with a groan anyway, part of him debating just walking away. No. He wouldn’t give in that easily. He never did. So he stood his ground, meeting that disapproving stare that had been fixed on him for the better part of a week. The Major wanted focus? He’d get it. He wanted to talk shit? Leon could give as good as he got. 

So the younger man raised his knife, still keeping his gaze locked on his opponent. “Maybe you’re the one who needs to focus. Sure are taking an interest in something that’s none of your business.” 

Krauser didn’t take the bait, but Leon saw his expression shift. His brow creased further, his eyes glinting. He thought that maybe he'd hit a nerve, but that moment of emotion was gone quickly. “That the best you’ve got?” he asked, and then Leon was on the defensive again, blocking quick strike after quick strike. Their hands moved fast, and Leon’s mind never once wavered from the task in front of him. Right up until he ducked under a swing, his blade held parallel to the ground, and ran it straight across Krauser’s side. He followed the move through, ending up at the Major’s back, going for a killing blow to the spine. It didn’t quite land as Krauser whirled around, knocking Leon’s arm out of the way. Another side kick distanced them, but Krauser looked down at his side for a moment, looking at where Leon’s knife had connected. 

When he looked back up, he gave an almost reluctant nod of approval. “Not bad.” 

It wasn’t much assurance, but Krauser wasn’t you. Leon would take what he could get. 

Chapter Text

You’d never thought you’d have to watch your life play out through a pane of glass. 

That was what you were reduced to, that first week. Bed rest. Doc’s orders. A week of it, wherein you wanted to do as Krauser suggested and study the less physical parts of the training. Trouble was, you’d not been given any of that training. No one had come to tell you what the hell they were learning over there, not even Krauser. 

So you’d stayed in bed dutifully for those first few days, but before long you’d pushed one of the uncomfortable chairs in the room towards that window. There you often sat, feeling your muscles crying out to be used and your eyes ever drifting towards that window. The orientation of the infirmary was cruel, giving you a good view of the base. A view of what you were missing, framed nice and pretty. 

It was like a movie. The kind that made you feel empty inside, but you couldn’t help watching. And watch was all you could do for those first few days. 

You watched Krauser and the other instructors greet a fresh batch of recruits. 

You watched lines of trainees running and heading to the shooting range, some you knew, some you didn’t. 

You watched Leon pushing himself, just as you knew he would. You watched him, beautiful and strong and sad, working through the shaking of his arms and legs. When he sparred with Valeria and the others, even when he did as you asked and faced down Krauser. You watched Leon lose to the Major over and over again, but he kept going. Kept getting up, every time. He was doing so well . . . and you knew you shouldn’t focus on him right now. It was poison to you, but you couldn’t help but drink it down. All of it. Everything you were supposed to be doing. 

A movie of should-have-beens . 

One with a soundtrack. 

“And if you go chasing rabbits-”

“And you know you’re going to fall-” 

The radio was a smartass. Or the DJ on the other end was without knowing it. Whatever the case, it always seemed to have something to say about you and your predicament. 

“Tell them a hookah smoking caterpillar-”

“Has given you a call-”

You knew that the radio had been a well-intended gift. And most of the time it was. It had kept you from delving into your own thoughts too much. It had been there when you woke in the middle of the night to the memories of friends turned monsters, or the resounding shock of a gunshot going off in the icy wilderness. You would reach for the radio in those moments, keeping it on because there was no one else you had to worry about waking. 

Sometimes, it would be that stupid, happy music. Songs that would keep your mind free. 

Sometimes, though . . .

You knew you shouldn’t have let it play those other songs. Just as you knew that you shouldn’t watch everyone else training. 

But you’d heard the news. 

Eight weeks. 

You weren’t going to graduate with Leon. That was the truth you had to grapple with. It wouldn’t have been the end of the world a few years ago. If you were two idiots having an affair in basic training. There would still be risks, but now? Leon would be thrown to the dogs and you wouldn’t be there to help him. 

So, over those days, you let those songs play, and let your thoughts play with them. 

Song after song after song. 

“In my shoes-”

“Walking sleep-”

“In my youth I pray to keep-”

What would happen, when you could finally move the way you needed to again? How much would your body allow you to do, after so long in bed? You knew the answer to that. You could remember how difficult it had been to regain your strength after . . . after the first time. You’d felt so weak, and you knew you’d feel weak again. You already did. 

That was if you even healed. 

You switched the station. 

“I could possibly be fading-” 

“Or have something more to gain-”

“I could feel myself growing colder-”

Some wounds didn’t heal right. You remembered a kid back in basic who fractured his arm in two places, falling from the obstacle course. They deemed him unable to serve when it didn’t heal right. 

If your ribs healed improperly . . . 

Another new station. 

“Distant eyes-”

“Promises we made were in vain-”

Whether you healed, Leon would be out there, fighting the fight without you. He was doing well. Better than the others, he’d pushed himself from being behind everyone to surpassing them all, but being the best didn’t matter out there. All it took was one moment of not paying attention. One second of carelessness. You knew that better than anyone. 

One moment and Leon could be gone, and you wouldn’t be able to do anything to protect him.

“If you must go, I wish you love-”

“You’ll never walk alone-” 

“You should be resting.” Doc’s voice had a way of being both caring and sobering all at once. He pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to see him enter the room holding a sandwich. Fresh-cut tomatoes, soft white bread - nothing from the mess hall, you knew that for sure. Lucky bastard. He took a bite out of his dinner and gestured to the bed you should have been lying down in. 

“Didn’t think it mattered where I was resting, so long as I was resting,” you murmured, not wanting to climb back into that damn bed. 

The Doc just gave you a look. “Come on. Don’t be a little shit, kid.” 

Not much point fighting him on it. When it came to your health, he outranked everyone. Even Krauser. 

So, you frowned and carefully pushed yourself up from the chair, taking the radio with you. Letting it play as you reluctantly and slowly lowered yourself onto the bed once more. 

The Doc nodded, seemingly appeased. “Now try to sleep, yeah? Bed rest can be over tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. 

You’d be able to join in non-physically demanding lessons. The ones led by Reed and Hellman, then. That was something. That would at least keep your brain from becoming your worst enemy. 

Any more than it already was, anyway. 

You’d get to see Leon again, and that was something. 

Tomorrow seemed so far away as the Doc left you alone, as you tried to do what he ordered and sleep. 

You tried. You tried to sleep. 

It went about as well as it always did, so you lay there in that bed, letting the radio sing. You lay there as the thoughts ate away at you. The worries and what-ifs. The memories that always plagued you, and the fear that you wouldn’t be able to fight them. All because of some bullshit inflicted on you. More bullshit. Broken again. Fingers bunching up in the sheets of the bed, you shook your head and got up again in the darkness. Angry. Furious. 

Terrified. 

The radio played on and on and on and you paced the length of the room you were in. Your well-meaning prison. 

You would heal. You would get there eventually. 

Hopefully.

Maybe-

Your heart was beating, pounding against bones hard enough that it hurt. Breathing was just as painful, as it always was, and you felt like the walls were closing in on you. You felt like you were getting lost in the blur of it all, unsure what was wrong with you.

What was wrong with you? 

How could you be a soldier, how could you fight if you couldn’t even defeat the thoughts in your skull? 

How could you protect anyone-

There was a knock on the door, and you froze. 

Your assumption that it was the Doc come to check in on you was quickly done away with as, after a moment, another knock sounded and a gravelly voice called out from behind the door. “You fall asleep with the music that loud, or are you just ignoring your commanding officer?” 

. . . What the hell was Krauser doing here?

You hadn’t spoken to the Major in almost a week. Since he warned you not to continue on with Leon. Since you’d taken his advice but hadn’t, not ending things but not seeing the man of your affections beyond looking through that damn window. Honestly, you’d been thankful that Krauser hadn’t sought you out either, because there was a sickness to your stomach that you felt every time you thought of how Krauser had found out about your affair. 

Still, as much as you wanted to, you knew that pretending to be asleep wouldn’t get you out of whatever conversation was about to be had. 

As soon as the door was open, you found the Major standing there, his arms crossed over his chest. You expected him to be scowling at you. That he would tell you to shut the damn radio off and go to bed. 

Instead, there was an ever-so-slight curve to his mouth. A tiny smile. 

Who would be in for pain now, you wondered? 

“Get your boots on,” he ordered, not giving you time to ask what he was doing here. 

Not that you weren’t going to ask anyway. “Sir?” 

“Told you,” Krauser went on, sounding almost impatient, “I don’t want you moping around all the time. So you’re gonna make yourself useful.” 

Blinking was all you could manage, for a moment. It was the same way he’d told you that you’d be helping him with combat drills. The same way he’d told you that you’d be sparring with the lower-level cadets to sharpen their skills, the day before you’d met Leon. You wouldn’t be bruising any new recruits any time soon, so what was Krauser hoping you’d help him with? Whatever it was, it had to be better than being stuck in this room, right? So you nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

Lacing up your boots was difficult - something you hadn’t had to do in a few days. You sat on the edge of your bed, trying to hold in a grimace as you bent over awkwardly, fumbling with tying the knots. 

Krauser watched you struggle for just a moment before you heard his voice again. “Can you manage?” he asked curtly. There was another moment before he added, “Cause if you can’t lace up your boots, you can’t report for lessons tomorrow.” 

Get your shit together, in other words. 

“I’m fine.” You gritted your teeth, remembering how you’d managed this last year. When you finally managed it without hurting yourself further, you stood. You could recognize the ghost of pride on Krauser’s face. “So . . .” you looked up at him, taking as deep a breath as you could manage. “What’s the plan?” 

“Been a while since you helped me teach a lesson,” Krauser grinned. “And these CIA bastards aren’t the only ones who know about covert tactics. So you’re gonna have to leave the radio.”

⧫⧫⧫

It was quiet work, the two of you moving about the base. The first stop was your barracks. Where you would be sleeping right now, were it not for the broken bones in your side. Where Leon and the others were sleeping inside. Well, likely not. Leon was likely tossing and turning, as he always did. Or staring up at the ceiling . . . focus . Getting this wrong would fuck you over when you were doing it for real. So, you watched Krauser demonstrate, before he handed the bundle of wires and parts to you. 

He held the flashlight, watching as you worked, imitating what he’d shown you how to do. No words were exchanged, out of a need for silence as much, you were sure, as a hesitancy to speak. Your work was imperfect several times, and he would simply shake his head, moving his scarred hands in to show you where you’d made a mistake. When it was done, when you carefully tested the tension of the wire, he just nodded and cocked his head. 

Time to move on, then. Your squad would be in for a rude wake-up call. Still, compared to what you’d gone through in that prison, this would be nothing. 

You followed the Major as he went through the base. There weren’t many places to set the lines up - not that wouldn’t interfere with the flow of work for the day, anyway. Still, you followed Krauser’s near-silent direction, all the way until you reached the forested area of the base. The same path that you and the others traveled down hundreds of times on the rucks Krauser had led you on. The same path where you’d ambushed Leon’s old squad mate, back during their assessment. 

That all seemed like a lifetime ago as you laid a new kind of trap there - a tense and thin line stretched between two trees on either side of the path. 

It was there, as you and Krauser worked in the dark, that the Major spoke up at last. “The rookie give you that radio?” 

Do we really have to have this conversation? That was what you wanted to say. Or just not answer, period. 

Still, you nodded, your lips pursed. “Yep. Him and the others.” Not a lie, but Krauser didn’t look very pleased by the answer all the same. It was hard to tell. 

It seemed he didn’t hear the bit about the others. “I take it you talked to him? About what I said?” he asked, and again you felt that shame rise up in you. Shame and frustration and all manner of other things. Whatever alloy of emotions you felt, you could see just as much weight in Krauser’s eyes. 

“I did,” you answered honestly. “It’s handled.” Another not-lie. Not entirely one, at least.

Krauser, in the light of the flashlight, still didn't look convinced. “If you’re going to be doing all this spy shit, you should at least learn how to lie.” 

Fuck. What the hell kind of mess had you landed yourself in? One where your C.O. knew about your affair, and was, what, offering you advice on how to keep it hidden? Or was this him trying to talk you out of it altogether? You couldn’t tell. You weren’t even sure what this situation was supposed to be. So, you decided not to answer him further, and he didn’t press. The two of you moved on, setting up another trip line down the road. 

“What have they gone over so far in training?” you asked, because you didn’t like the heavy silence that settled between the two of you. “Reed and Hellman?” 

“Agent shit,” was the dry answer you got. “They’ll debrief you tomorrow.”

Your mouth pressed into a thin line as you tied off the wire, and you shook your head. “No. You told me to get ahead of the curb, then you let me sit in bed for a week.”

“On the Doctor’s orders-” 

“And I couldn’t have been debriefed from bed?” 

“I don’t control what those two do.” 

“But you control what you do,” you pointed out, frustrations from a week of relative nothingness coming to the surface. “If you want me to do well then I need to know what’s going on.” 

“You missed a week,” Krauser said, his eyes sharpening. “You’ll catch up.” 

“I’m missing a lot more than a week,” you snapped, and as soon as the anger was voiced, it left you with nothing but dread. No fire in the dark woods, only the chill of uncertainty. Of dread. You hated that your voice wavered. That you sounded exactly how you felt: afraid. 

The Major watched you for a moment, neither of you speaking over the sound of crickets in the night air. 

When he finally spoke over that chorus, his words were almost soft. As soft as Jack Krauser’s voice could be, anyway. “You’re not gonna be out of the fight forever.” Should have figured he’d see through that attempt at indifference. 

“I might be.” You weren’t sure where the self-pity was coming from. 

A week in bed, you supposed. 

“The hell you talking about?” Krauser sounded so genuinely confused, but he had to know what worried you. He had to be aware of the thought that plagued you. 

“I’ve had this injury before,” you said, detaching yourself because you feared what emotion would come spilling out of you if you didn’t. “If it doesn’t heal right this time-”

“You knock it off with that bullshit.” It was an order that stunned you into silence. Krauser’s stare was no less intense than his voice. He’d yelled at you before - that was his job, after all. This was different, though. He wasn’t pushing you to improve, he was telling you that you were going to listen to him. That there was no other choice. “Self-pity isn’t going to help you heal, and neither will worrying. You’re gonna be fine. You’ve lived through worse and come back stronger, right? You still want to take the fight to those assholes at Umbrella?”

The answer to that last bit was obvious. Incontrovertible. “Yes.” 

With a nod of his beret-covered head, Krauser gave you one final order. “So pull yourself together.” 

It’s harsh and not at all the comforting reassurance that others had given you in the past. Still, it’s enough of a reality check that it flips a switch in you. There was little room for argument, and all you could do after several moments of surprised silence was nod. “Okay. Yeah. Sorry, sir.” 

Krauser, after a moment, shook his head. “Don’t be. It’s . . .” he swallowed, like he was weighing the words. “It’s bullshit. What happened.” 

Your injury, you knew that was what he was talking about. You could hear it in the regret in his voice. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Well, bullshit happens. Have to learn to deal with it.” 

 Krauser smiled at that. Not the kind that meant harm for others. This one you recognized as something else. One you were familiar with, however rare it was - pride. “That’s what we train you for. Dealing with bullshit.” 

“And how to disable tripwires?” you offered, feeling a little better, even if your ribs still ached. 

Krauser just rolled his eyes. “Smartass.” That still-present smile told you that he wasn’t annoyed, though. Not really. He looked at you for a moment longer, like he was thinking. That same expression took his face, then. The one you didn’t really recognize. Whatever it was, he turned away before you could really puzzle it out. “Come on. A few more. Then you can get back to moping.” 

You laughed a little at that. 

⧫⧫⧫

Leon hadn’t slept well. 

Not that he ever did, really. 

He’d become an expert at willing himself to rise, though, and so when it was time, he sat up from bed and got ready with the others. He threw his fatigues on, rolling his shoulders back, sore from the sparring with Krauser he’d done the night before. All of him was sore, but it always was, wasn’t it? 

He was used to it, now. 

Just as he was used to not sleeping well, or the strain of the training, or . . . well, he was getting used to looking over to your bunk and not seeing you there, too. However much it pained him. 

So many things in life that he’d never thought he’d be used to, as he made his way towards the barracks door, the first one of the squad to make it there.  

What he wasn’t used to was the slight bit of tension he hit when he twisted the handle and pushed the door open. The tiniest bit of resistance . . . and then the sound of some faint, mechanical click. He didn’t see the little bundle of wires by the door until it was too late. Even as he moved to throw himself backwards, there was a pop and a flash of light. 

Adrenaline brought about a full-body flinch as he threw himself back. As the rest of the squad did the same, trying to get away from the door, from whatever harm was promised to them. 

Only to find that adrenaline fading when no harm came to them. 

“Okay,” Williams exclaimed in utter annoyance, “what the fuck?” 

About as done with the morning already as Williams was, Leon approached the door slowly, pushing it the rest of the way open. Looking for the source of what had caused the tiny burst. 

He got his answer in the form of a firecracker. A fucking firecracker. One hooked up to a makeshift detonator, with a now-loose wire hanging from it. 

And leaning against that very wall, with an exhausted but amused look, was the only person Leon had wanted to see all week. 

He knew full well that his face lit up as he took the sight of you in, glad that his back was to his squad mates so they couldn’t see. 

“Hey.” 

It was the first thing that escaped his lips, and he wanted to smack himself because really? Was that the best he could do?  

Still, he found himself smiling a little when you gave him that half-formed, half-lived smile. It was small, but it was enough. “Hey.” You looked between Leon and the trip-wire - one that you had no doubt laid yourself. “Gonna have to pay closer attention next time, Kennedy,” you shrugged, and then began walking away, throwing one last phrase over your shoulder with a smile. “See you in class.” 

That promise set Leon’s heart racing, just as sure as that tripwire had. 

⧫⧫⧫

“What the hell happened?” Doc sounded absolutely concerned as you returned to the infirmary that morning, enough that you stopped in your tracks, not sure why he was so worried. You blinked, looking over your shoulder. Had he heard the bang of the firework? Did he not expect you to be out of bed?

“What-”

“You? Smiling?” he asked, and you realized you’d walked in with that little grin still on your face. “Hell must have frozen over.” 

Everyone on base is a fucking comedian.  

You just deadpanned a grimace, and carried on to your room - still to be your home for a while, even if you were allowed to escape it for lessons. And setting up traps around base, apparently. 

Doc filled in the laughter for you, following you into the room. 

“Got breakfast ready for you there.” He pointed to the table by your bedside, the one where your radio was currently housed. A tray from the mess hall, with the usual slop that was served there waiting for you. 

You frowned. “Not gonna give me any of your homemade stuff?” you asked, looking over your shoulder. 

Doc just gave you a look. “Nope. Now eat up.” 

That was all he said before he left the room, closing the door behind him. 

If it weren’t for the fact that you needed to keep your strength up, you probably wouldn’t have touched the stuff. It tasted like sawdust half the time, so you weren’t exactly thrilled to be eating it. 

At least, you weren’t, until you went to move the tray and a manila folder fell out from underneath it, spilling onto the floor. 

“What the fuck . . .” you cursed as you knelt down, struggling with your ribs to scoop up all the papers. 

No, not papers. 

Reports. 

Grouped together with paperclips, though some had come loose. You quickly scrambled to gather them, your eyes widening as you skimmed the papers with sections of blacked out text - though not as many as you would expect, given the title of the report you picked up first. 

𝚁𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙾𝙾𝙽 𝙲𝙸𝚃𝚈 𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙾𝚁𝚃 - 𝚂𝙴𝙿𝚃𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝟸𝟽𝚝𝚑, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟾

Your blood went cold as you read the words, and then read them again. 

Eyes flashing, looking through the others. 

𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝙱𝙸𝙾𝚆𝙴𝙰𝙿𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙾𝚁𝚃 

𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚃 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙵𝙴𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙻 𝙸𝙽𝚅𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙶𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 - 𝙰𝚁𝙺𝙻𝙰𝚈 𝙼𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙽𝚂

𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙾𝚁𝚃 - 𝙳𝙾𝚁𝙽𝙴 𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙴, 𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙳 - 𝙹𝙰𝙽𝚄𝙰𝚁𝚈 𝟸𝟿𝚝𝚑, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟾

You stopped as you read that title. Those words. Your name and rank. Your report, your words printed just underneath the heading. 

It wasn’t only those reports. There were more of them, most just a few pages by the looks of things, but still . . . 

This. All of these, they were . . . it was all here. You knew it, even without having to read through the pages individually. All of it was about Umbrella. Bioweapons. The very things you’d sworn to stop. To fight. It was all here.

A name caught your eye, then, as you sifted through the pages. One that gave you pause even more than all the other information you’d glimpsed. 

𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚁𝙾𝙶𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙽𝚂𝙲𝚁𝙸𝙿𝚃: 𝙻𝙴𝙾𝙽 𝚂. 𝙺𝙴𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙳𝚈 - 𝚁𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙾𝙾𝙽 𝙲𝙸𝚃𝚈 𝙸𝙽𝙲𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙽𝚃

Your fingertips brushed the name, printed in bold. 

It was his story. Everything about what he’d survived and what he’d endured. The details he’d told you and the ones he hadn’t were all right there. Just as your story was. Two documents. A few sheets of paper that contained so much pain. Accounts of the nights that had changed both of your lives forever, and you’d been left both of them. You could know what he’d gone through at last . . . 

But you found yourself shifting that report to the back of the stack, hiding it beneath the others instead. Closing the folder . . . and then snorting a little as you saw the note paperclipped to the front of it all. 

Read up, smartass. 

You didn’t have to recognize the handwriting to know who it was from. 

Chapter Text

Leon’s muscles aching, finishing the day with fresh bruises, getting knocked on his ass thanks to your and Krauser’s combined efforts, stealing glances at you when there was a lull in instruction . . . it was almost like old times. If what had only been a few months ago could be considered “old times”. 

Having you back after that first week was enough to brighten the worst days. 

Even if you couldn’t join the rest of the squad in marches, or combat drills, you were at least allowed now to sit in for Reed and Hellman’s lessons. Leon watched you throw yourself into the studies, unyielding in your desire to learn. To prepare in some way for what was out there. Every time the agents would go over knowledge of known bioweapons, your eyes would sharpen, your muscles tensing. And if your body couldn’t perform right now, you made every effort to make sure that your mind could. Even if it meant setting mock explosives up with Krauser every morning before drills - and sometimes while everyone was taking meals. Even if it resulted in tripwires being set up in annoyingly inconvenient places, you were doing a little better. You always worked best when you had a goal. A purpose. You wouldn’t fall completely behind, if you could help it. 

Leon did his best to follow suit, trying to work in time to practice new skills between nights sparring with the others, or getting his ass handed to him by Major Krauser - who still took to the task with fervor. The impending graduation made it easier to focus, but you . . . 

Maybe Krauser hadn’t been entirely wrong about you being a weakness, because it was hard not for Leon to look your way when he was in the classroom with you. It was hard not to let his thoughts drift to you during the day, wishing it was you that he locked blades with instead of Valeria or the others. 

With Hellman’s eyes on the two of you, though, he knew he couldn’t afford to be obvious. He couldn’t even afford to let a glance betray the two of you.  

Still, on those days when you weren’t helping Krauser set clever traps and you joined the others in the mess hall, he would sit at your side. You were friends, after all. Reed and Hellman knew that much. There was no harm in you two speaking, so long as it was in public. With others. Still, Leon would sometimes risk a self-indulgent touch; fingers brushing as he handed you water, his knee resting against yours under the table . . . 

He felt like he was in a goddamn old-timey movie. One of secret affairs and longing glances. Forbidden love. 

You would have hated that way of describing it, but Leon would have given just about anything to see your annoyance at the description. He could imagine the eye-roll you’d give him. You’d probably continue that eye roll as he kissed you, too, he could almost see it. 

He could almost see a lot of things, as he sought solace in the memory of your touches. 

It wasn’t enough. 

He’d gone a long time without your touch before, at Fort Benning, but now it was your company he craved, too. Desperately. With eight - and now seven - weeks on the clock, he wanted as much time with you as possible before he was shipped off to fight the horrors Reed and Hellman described to the others. The monsters that Leon, in ever-dwindling spare time, would describe to his squad mates, telling them how he fought and killed the nightmares. He wasn’t ready to face them again, and he wasn’t ready to leave you behind. 

So, he would seek opportunities to be with you. Reed and Hellman wanted him to learn spy shit? He could do that. He could find more ways to be around you that wouldn’t draw suspicion.

And he started that process mostly by accident. 

⧫⧫⧫

You had never been one to stay up late reading, even before joining the Army. Your youth had been spent in other ways, and if there was a late night to be had, it was often one involving being out and about in the world, finding ways to get in trouble. 

You hadn’t thought that your C.O. would so readily help you find that trouble. 

The reports weren’t supposed to be in your hands - that much was clear. Krauser would have just openly given them to you if they were something you were supposed to have. So, during the day and when you helped the Major with setting up more traps around the base, you kept them stashed away in the lining of the mattress you slept on. 

In the free hours of the night, though . . . you kept the light on and the blinds closed, and you did as Krauser ordered you to do; you read. 

Leon was the one trained to be a police officer. You’d been a grunt from the day you could put the uniform on, but still you found your mind making connections. You were an investigator, trying to understand just how everything had gone so wrong. Trying to tie together the events that had put you and Leon and so many others through such hell.  

It did your mind no favors, knowing that, whatever else was going on behind the scenes with Umbrella, all known records of anything bioweapon-related started on a date you knew all too well. 

January 29th, 1998. 

The night your life nearly ended and was forever changed. 

You didn’t reread the report. You were the one who made it, after all. You’d agonized over the details of that night enough. 

Total destruction . . .

Viral weaponry . . .

Unknown paramilitary group involvement . . .

One survivor . . .

The only thing of importance in that report was the date. The fact that everything else followed it, which exhumed an old guilt that had started to eat at you when you heard the reports of Raccoon City. Even if the government had wanted to cover up what happened there, you’d seen the news. Heard the reports of people gone mad, a strange sickness that made its victims violent. 

“She looked like a corpse. Like a walking corpse!” you’d heard on the radio, one day. You remembered. 

You’d known in your heart what it all was, before it had even been confirmed to you. And in those nights you spent reading and rereading, you found yourself filled with anger. You’d often thought that if you’d been faster or stronger or smarter on that night in January, then maybe there would have only been one report for you to read through now. You’d let your own guilt talk you into believing that you could have stopped what was to come. 

Now, though, reading a chain of communications from August, you realized that it was inevitable that it would end up this way, because the government that employed you had smelled blood and come running. 

𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝: (𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎)

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖: █.█.

𝙼𝚢 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 ███████ ██████, 𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚄𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙸’𝚖 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔, 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗 ███████ 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝. 

𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 ███████ 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚏𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎. 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚄𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚔, 𝚒𝚏 𝚋𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚡𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗. 

𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝, 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝. 

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚝 █████ ████ 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 - 𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜. 𝙸𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗. 

𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚄𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚒𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗 - 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙸𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍, 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚕𝚘𝚋𝚎. 

𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚄𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝙸 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢. 

𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍, 𝙸’𝚖 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎.

You’d read that part time and time again. You’d let ink on paper seed rage and retribution in your heart. Even blacked out, you knew the name of the scientist writing - Leon had told you and Krauser both all those nights ago. Birkin. A name for you to assign blame to, if not for the knife in your gut, then for the creation of the virus that destroyed your life. 

Trouble was, you didn’t have a name for whoever had been stupid enough to answer his call for help. Not with the letters blacked out, hidden from your view. 

𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝: 𝚁𝙴 (𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎)

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖: █.█.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜, 𝙳𝚛. ██████. 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 . . . 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚛, 𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚕𝚍, 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙. 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚄𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊’𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚄𝚂 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎. 𝙺𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚞𝚜 𝚞𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚜.

██████ ████

Not without something actionable . Reading that sentence was molten metal being poured into your gut. This wasn’t something the CIA agents had bothered to talk about. Nor would they, you imagined. Too damning. Too irredeemable. It left the taste of bile behind as you read confirmation of what Leon had already told you; the US had seen potential instead of tragedy from the destruction of your base. 

Whoever this blacked-out name was, they’d wanted a weapon and damn the consequences.

Damn the consequences, and damn the man who made that weapon, as you later discovered.

𝚂𝙴𝙿𝚃𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝟸𝟽𝚝𝚑, 𝟷𝟸:𝟶𝟶

𝚁𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝: █████ ███████

𝚁𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝙲𝚒𝚝𝚢

█████ █████ 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚜 “█”. 𝙸𝚏 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝙳𝚘𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛 ██████, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚗𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚛𝚞𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚜. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚢.

And then, a few lines down . . .

𝚂𝙴𝙿𝚃𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁 30𝚝𝚑, 01:𝟶𝟶

𝚁𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙰𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝: █████ ███████

𝚁𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝙲𝚒𝚝𝚢

𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 █████ █████, 𝚠𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚎. 𝚂𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎. 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍.

Shit had hit the fan and they’d left Birkin out to dry. Him and whoever had been sent into the city on a suicide mission. You couldn’t say you pitied the Doctor. In fact, you were glad that he was dead. Glad that, according to what little Leon had told you of that night, Birkin had been stripped of his humanity by his own creation, until Leon put him down at last.

As you read the reports, you sighed as you learned that no one - or, at least, no one in the reports you were handed - had walked away with the virus. The US had lost out on their dirty prize. And then they’d destroyed an entire city. 

All for Umbrella’s idiocy, hundreds of people had suffered. The man you cared for most in the world had suffered. 

You needed to know all there was to know.

So you’d stayed up night after night, reading and piecing together the story until Krauser would come and get you to set more traps. And when you returned, you would read into the waking hours or until exhaustion demanded rest, whichever came first. 

Even if you’d asked, in essence, to see those reports, they frustrated you. 

As if you weren’t already frustrated enough as it is with your situation. 

The only thing keeping you sane were your outings onto base. Going with Krauser at night to set the traps . . . and the few classes you were allowed to take with your squad. Seeing Leon again, even if it had to be in public settings, even if you couldn’t let yourself express what you wanted to express, was enough to keep you sane and make you teeter on the edge all at once. 

So you focused on reading. On the radio. On anything you could focus on. 

Like the little lockpicking set in your hands, one you twisted and turned, trying to get it to click open. 

Hellman had been nice enough to give you a few sets of locks to practice on - as if “nice” was an act you really bought from the man who’d waterboarded and beaten you. Maybe he felt bad that his friend broke your ribs. Reed sure as hell didn’t. The darker-eyed agent hadn’t really spoken more than a few words to you since the interrogations. That suited you well enough. Getting into a fistfight would be a bad idea in your condition. 

A really cathartic, bad idea . . .

The pins aligned, and the lock in your lap gave way, opening up to nothing at all but a slight feeling of satisfaction, somewhat familiar. You’d tried to learn in your youth. Helped to have actual instruction now, even if it was from men you hated.

“You’re goo’ a’at.” The observation was barely audible as Doc shoveled more pasta into his mouth. Penne with a red sauce. You were fairly certain that Krauser had asked the medic to watch and make sure you weren’t doing anything to aggravate your injuries. You were also fairly certain he was always eating homemade meals in the room just to torture you. 

Joke’s on you, old man. Been there, done that.

“Have to be. It’s all I really can do.” That might have been an over exaggeration, but there was enough truth there to warrant the statement.

It just made the grizzled man swallow and shrug. “You’re good at picking radio stations and frowning, too.” 

You wouldn’t have hesitated to tell a superior officer to fuck off, once. Not one who had started becoming less and less formal with you, anyway. Still, you held your retort but for a glower. 

Besides, footfalls and Doc’s attention being drawn elsewhere stole your chance for a reply. 

You couldn’t be mad at the theft when you looked up and saw who stepped into the room. 

Only Leon could look so gorgeous covered in mud and grime, his fatigues dirtied on the front and his arms covered in it too. Arms that were held up against his chest, one hand clasped over the other. It wasn’t a tight enough grip to prevent the blood from slipping down his muddied arm, though - a sight that made your eyes widen involuntarily. 

“What’d you do this time, rookie?” Doc asked, setting his lunch down and rising to his feet. 

Leon looked from the older man to you, and there was no evidence of real pain in his soft smile. “Ask that one. Unless you want to tell me someone else put a tripwire charge in barbed wire.” 

Ah, so he’d been the first one to run across the trap that you and Krauser had left there the night before. Well, more so the Major than you. The low hanging barbed wire set up to train for the infiltration course wasn’t something that you’d be crawling through any time soon - a fact that should have immediately cleared you of any blame for setting the charge there. Now, were you guilty of thinking of putting it there? That was another story.

Did you feel guilty for your little idea causing Leon to bleed? 

Also another story. 

“Come on,” Doc moved forward, ignoring the playful jab thrown at you. “Let’s see.” 

It was a nasty cut. Or maybe tear would be the better word. Deep and still gushing some blood on Leon’s right hand. Nothing incredibly serious, but for the mud Leon had been crawling through. “Krauser wanted me to go get it cleaned.” Your suspicion was confirmed with those words, and Leon once again looked between you and the Doc. 

“Better stitch it, too,” the Doc nodded, pulling the supplies he’d need as you were struck with a feeling of deja vu. It wasn’t so long ago you were stitching up Leon after the tear gas ambush, telling him that you wanted to talk about the kiss you’d shared. You’d been able to offer your services then and have it not be suspicious, so Doc would leave the room. You weren’t sure you could do that a second time without raising the man’s scraggly eyebrows. Luckily, though, as he searched through what he had available, you realized that you might not need to. “Come on . . .” he groaned. “Make yourself useful and clean it out, would you? My idiot assistants didn’t replace the thread.” A fact you were all too grateful for as Doc left to grab some and you and Leon were finally, mercifully, gifted your first few moments alone. 

Leon wasted no time, just as you knew he wouldn’t. 

“So,” he said, watching as you collected the supplies to clean his wound, “you gonna kiss it better?” 

It was stupid enough to stop your movements, and you just raised your eyes to meet Leon’s, unable to stand the cheeky grin he gave you. 

No, that was a bold-faced lie. You adored that look. 

Smug bastard knew it, too. 

“You been thinking of that one the whole walk over?” you asked, wiping away the grime carefully and then disinfecting the cut. It was bigger than you thought, now that you were getting a good look at it, a rip in the flesh between his thumb and pointer finger. “You know, you’re supposed to avoid the barbed wire.” 

Leon smiled, not even flinching this time around as you poured the disinfectant over the wound. “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

And Krauser called you the smartass. 

“So you, what, decided to backhand it this time around?” 

“Wire had it coming,” Leon shrugged, but then after a deadpan from you, he shifted to a more serious tone. “I was trying to disarm the charge. I triggered it instead and pulled my hand away too fast.” 

That made you raise another incredulous look his way. The charges you and Krauser had been little more than firecrackers - a placeholder for the real thing. Still, you supposed that having your hand right next to an explosive of any kind when it went off wasn’t a good idea. Still . . .

“Think you were just looking for an excuse to end up in the infirmary.” Your voice was low, just in case the Doc came back. 

Leon just smiled and shrugged. “Believe whatever you want,” he said, blue eyes finding your own. Searching and savoring in a way that sent sparks through you. Was that all it took, now? Just him looking into your eyes, like you were some idiot teenager looking at their crush? 

It would be so easy to close the distance between you. A quick journey that you so desperately wanted to take. 

But as you heard Doc’s returning footsteps, you backed off. Even if the man, you were fairly sure, had helped Krauser pass along classified documents to you, you didn’t want to take a risk like that. 

Now, a risk of another kind . . .

“If I stitch him up for you,” you looked over at Doc as he returned, the older soldier caught by surprise as you spoke, “can I have some of your fancy home-made lunches?” Frame it as you wanting something else. Reed and Hellman teaching you to all to move and act without suspicion could be their downfall, because Doc didn’t seem suspicious whatsoever of your offer. 

Just annoyed. 

“You want payment in my wife’s cooking for stitching up one cut?” he asked, and Leon smiled at you sympathetically. “You want good food, kid, you gotta earn it.” The older man looked between you and Leon’s injury, and then shrugged once more. “Not a bad place to start, though.” 

You could work with that. Not only an opportunity to be with Leon right now, but a chance to maybe get some better food overall? That sounded like a net gain to you. 

So, you sealed Leon’s cut with needle and thread, your hands steady even if the rest of your body felt like it was atrophying slowly. Just as you’d done all those nights before, you worked near silently, doing your best to get this done painlessly . . . but not too quickly. You wanted whatever time you had with him to last, and even stitching up a wound for him was something you’d savor, because it was the first time in nearly two weeks you’d been able to touch him. To do something for him. 

Still, he had to get back to training. He had to focus, because his life was going to be in danger again far sooner than your own.  You couldn’t take away from his time preparing for that-

“So I was thinking,” Leon began, his tone more neutral than you’d heard it in a long time. Almost . . . formal was the wrong word, but nowhere near the playfulness you’d heard from him even a minute ago. He spoke in a measured way, even as you pushed a needle through his skin and tugged on the thread tied to it. You looked up, realizing his eyes were set on the little open lock and lock picking set you’d left on the bedside table. “A lot of us are still struggling with the stuff they’re showing us in Reed and Hellman’s lessons.” A gesture to the very lock that had caught his eye. “Thought we could all work on it together. In our off hours.” 

Not beaming at him took some effort, because you knew he was just coming up with more excuses to spend time with you in a safe way, even if he was serious about wanting to practice new skills. 

“Sounds like a plan.” You didn’t have to think hard to agree, didn’t have to hide the fact that you thought it was a good idea. 

You would just hide why you did. 

And so, that night, you found yourself hosting a company of six, including yourself - even Alejandro had joined in, this time. Just like that day after Krauser pulled you from the prison, you let the radio play softly as you all exchanged phrases in different languages, as you let Alenko correct your pronunciation, or you showed Williams how you’d gotten a particular lock to turn. 

It was all good practice, good knowledge for you and everyone to have . . . but your attention was divided. Torn between the man you wanted so desperately to get lost in, and the folder of reports you’d stashed beneath your mattress. You thought of whether you should tell them all you’d learned. 

You wanted to. The knowledge you’d gained felt like it was trying to claw its way out of you, a beast looking for more of its own kind. You wanted to fill in the gaps of everything you didn’t know. You wanted to have the full picture, because even now, it seemed that there were still things being kept from the others. You wanted to know everything there was to know. Names, locations - everything. 

And yet . . . there were still two reports you refused to read. Two stories.

One known in full, the other known in pieces. 

Those reports weighed on you for a different reason. It wasn’t about understanding an enemy, or why a tragedy beyond measure had happened. Your story and Leon’s weighed on you because, in the back of your mind, you knew that time was running out. Whatever happened to Leon after his graduation was beyond your control. It always had been - that was what you’d warned him of so long ago. 

You would know as much about Leon S. Kennedy as you could before fate took control of you both. 

And he would know as much as he wanted to know about you. 

You would find a way to make sure of that.

Chapter Text

Boots against the dirt, heavy breathing, the chirping of crickets in concert with a distant buzzing . . . Leon and Krauser circled each other to a symphony that night. The cicadas were a few days early, by Leon’s understanding. They didn’t usually come out until June, if even then. They hadn’t wanted to wait for summer-proper, he supposed, so now that pulsing buzz of the insects rang in the air around them. Singing to greet the new world, earlier than expected. Leon could sympathize, but there would be no songs when he and the rest were forced into their own new world. So, as the cicada-song went on, he put the sound off to the side. Neither he nor Krauser were bothered by it; they were too busy looking for opportunity in each other. 

A moment to strike. 

Ice met sky as they locked eyes, both of their guards down. Waiting. Anticipating. 

“Don’t have all night, pretty boy.” The sounds of the insects weren't nearly as grating as Krauser’s insults. Two weeks of them, and Leon still found that the words got under his skin. Especially when the Major turned those barbed words towards you, or what Leon felt for you; what Krauser knew the two of you shared. “Know you’re used to sparring as foreplay, but-”

With that taunt, Leon’s patience wore out, and he swung his knife - held reversed in his left hand - towards Krauser’s face. He knew not to hold back when fighting the Major, and with his right hand freshly stitched, he didn’t want to risk undoing your work.

Or maybe he should, so he’d have an excuse to visit you alone again- 

Keep your head in the game. 

He reminded himself of that as Krauser leaned back to avoid the strike. A muscled arm came up, aiming an angled stab down at Leon’s now-vulnerable shoulder, and-

Fuck!

Leon blocked the attack narrowly, his arm shaking with the force of the Major’s blow as palm met wrist. The exchange that followed was just as break-neck as Leon had come to expect from the Major, and for all the shallow cuts and near-misses that Leon managed to earn, it didn’t matter when Krauser managed to kick the knife from the younger man’s hand.

“Looking to get your ass kicked one last time before the holiday?” the Major growled with an almost feral smile.

Leon knew that “holiday” was the right word, but still, Memorial Day had never felt like a holiday to him. A day dedicated to remembering the fallen didn’t seem like a holiday. Least of all now that he was faced with being one of those names remembered in future years. 

If anyone knew to mourn his death at all- 

Head in the game.

Krauser’s continuation of his insult made that easier to remember. “Do you just like getting the shit kicked out of you? That what made you like your Sergeant so much?”

“Guess not.” Leon said through clenched teeth, backing away as Krauser went after him again. “Cause I sure as hell don’t like you.” At least not right now.

“Oh, so the rookie has a little bite after all.” Krauser punctuated the statement with a slash to Leon’s face - one that he felt graze his nose as he barely backed away in time. It staggered him just enough that the kick that followed landed in full force. It hit Leon square in the chest, and he wondered briefly if he’d join you with broken ribs as he was sent crashing backwards. 

Another time he’d been sent to the ground, another time he had to get up. He did it fast enough to block the Major’s incoming blows, stopping himself from having what would have been a belly full of steel. Krauser’s free hand went for a punch that Leon blocked, and again he realized he was fucked because it was his strength versus Krauser’s. He strained with all his might as those pale blue eyes bored into his own. 

He felt Krauser’s unarmed hand slip free from his grasp. A callused palm against his face, trying to force his head to the side. Leon didn’t think. All he could think to do was lean his head back and around, his lips parting as his teeth bared in a snarl . . . 

And then he sunk those teeth into Krauser’s hand. 

It was the first time Leon had heard anything akin to a yelp from the Major - likely more from surprise than actual pain. If he - Leon - were a bioweapon, a zombie, then Krauser would have already lost. One bite would have been all it took. As it was, Leon grunted as the Major drove his knee into Leon’s gut, and he felt like he might be sick. Still, months of training, months of you doing the same brutal art with him, kept him up, even as his teeth came free of Krauser’s hand. 

He didn’t taste blood, but Leon grinned like he had. Krauser was good at turning attacks back on his opponents. Leon could at least do that with the Major’s words. “More than a little bite,” he said, breathing hard. 

And the taller man, after a moment of examining his hand, looked up at Leon with eyes that burned a hot-fire blue. 

And then the Major laughed. 

“Fighting dirty, rookie?” he smirked. “Good. Maybe you did pick something up from the Sergeant after all,” the older man mused, and Leon could hear something held back in his voice. What it was, he couldn’t say. 

“I picked up a lot of things,” Leon insisted, because it was true. Krauser had given him the skills, but you had honed them. 

“Like how to fake an injury to have an excuse to go to the med bay?” 

The accusation made Leon’s brow furrow. “Not all that fake. You want an up-close look at the stitches?” He asked Krauser, and the Major just scoffed, lowering his knife, signaling a definitive break in the sparring. 

“Heard your Sergeant already got one.”

Your Sergeant again, spoken with so much disdain. It made Leon’s frustrations strain against the cage he’d herded them into. His response was strained in turn. “That’s what happens when you stitch up a wound, yeah.”

“I warned you two-”

“Look,” Leon hissed, thoroughly done with this game. “If you’re gonna report it, report it. Stop dangling it over my head. I’m tired of it-” 

“Keep your fucking voice down.” Krauser’s words were spoken through bared teeth, and Leon felt his body tense as the Major stepped into his space. “You feel like testing me, rookie?” Krauser was bigger than him, even after the months of training had broadened Leon’s chest and shoulders. All of that, and still Leon would never be as tall as Krauser, and likely never as powerful, but it didn’t matter, at that moment. No matter how intimidating the Major wanted to be, he would never be the worst thing that Leon had been faced with. So, the younger man stood his ground. 

“I do,” he nodded, staring the Major down, feeling like he was David looking up at Goliath as he spoke a hard truth. “If you were gonna report us, you’d have done it already.” 

He knew it was a dumbass thing to do, speaking like that to a superior officer - let alone Krauser of all people. Still, Leon couldn’t find the reasonable fear in him to stop the words, because for all that Krauser had done that Leon hated, he’d shown time and time again that he cared. And so, even as Krauser’s nostrils flared in rage and his eyes sharpened, Leon felt sure of his words. 

He may have lost most fights against the Major, but as he watched Krauser clench his jaw, Leon knew that he’d won this one. 

“I won’t need to report it,” the Major snarled, “if you two keep going like this.” 

It wasn’t the best counterattack Krauser had ever used, and they both knew it. “Why don’t you let us worry about that?” 

Krauser frowned, blue eyes narrowing once more. He looked like he wanted to say something more, something that was eating at him. Whatever it was, Leon watched him lock away the conflict behind his eyes instead of unleashing those thoughts. “Doesn’t fuckin’ matter what I say, does it?” he asked, like he was realizing that it was a losing game for the first time. 

It may have been the first time Leon ever saw the Major accept a defeat. 

“No,” Leon shook his head, “it doesn’t.” 

Something flickered across Krauser’s face - a twitch of muscles that Leon doubted was under the Major’s control. He pursed his lips together and nodded once, looking off into the night towards where the cicadas were singing. It was many long moments before he spoke again, and when he did, Leon found that the Major had one last surprise in store for him, spoken in a low voice so only Leon could hear. “Then if you two have to keep being dumbasses and seeing each other, make sure you do it tomorrow. You’ve got people to remember and you’re both unbearable when you’re miserable alone.” 

Leon’s lips hung open, parted by surprise. He hadn’t been prepared for that one-eighty. Hell, he’d expected Krauser to knock him to the ground and scream in his face, not roll over and all but tell him to spend time with you. 

“I-”

“Guard up.” Krauser gave the order, letting Leon know the conversation was over with a swing at his head. One that might have knocked it clean off of Leon’s shoulders, if he hadn’t ducked in time. 

Whatever was going through the Major’s head, it made him sloppy. Even if he was armed and Leon’s knife still lay in the dirt a few feet away, Krauser was unbalanced. His attacks weren’t as precise as they once were, his reactions just a touch too slow. He was distracted. Enough so that this time, as Leon braced Krauser’s arm against his shoulder, as he turned and leveraged, the Major was pulled clean off his feet, in a move that you had performed on Leon a dozen times. One that left the young recruit in shock as Krauser’s back hit the dust. 

Disbelief wasn’t enough for Leon to hesitate, though, and he wrenched Krauser’s knife free of his hand, stabbing it downwards . . . 

And Leon’s eyes went wide when the blunted tip met Krauser’s chest. 

The two men stared at each other, like neither was quite sure how it had happened. Krauser recovered first, though, looking up at Leon with a creased brow. “Heart’s on the other side, rookie,” he pointed out, reaching up to guide Leon’s hand and the blade both where it belonged. “Remember that.” 

“Yes, sir.” Leon nodded as Krauser released his hand, feeling his nerves refusing to calm. The sounds of people approaching did nothing to help that as Leon offered a hand to Krauser, only to have it brushed aside. 

The Major’s mood only soured further when he and Leon looked up to find a pair of suit-bedecked CIA agents making their way towards them. 

“Son of a bitch,” Krauser muttered beneath his breath, and if Reed or Hellman overheard it, they didn’t show it. 

“Sorry to interrupt, Major,” Hellman said. “We were looking for Mr. Kennedy.” 

Leon stilled, the high of his victory plummeting because why would they be looking for me? 

“And it can’t wait?” Krauser grumbled, pushing himself to his full height so he could tower over the agents properly. 

Reed answered with that same monotonous voice as ever. “We’ll be brief.” Leon’s worry only grew . . . until Reed reached a hand forward - one holding . . . 

Oh my god . . .

The envelopes were opened, all of them, and Leon could see folded paper inside. Colorful ink. Handwriting that bordered on messy. 

And just like that, his heart was in his throat, choking him. 

“We already informed the other recruits,” Hellman went on, as Krauser eyed the two of them, like this was the first he was hearing of this as well, “but you will be allowed to receive and send letters from friends and family, as the Major requested. Any incoming letters or packages will be searched by Reed and myself, and any outgoing replies will need to be proof-read and approved by us as well.” 

Leon barely heard the words as he reached out, taking the letters from Reed, holding them like he wasn’t sure they were real. 

“Is all of that understood?” 

Leon just nodded dumbly, looking down at the envelopes now in his hand. “Yes,” he agreed without really thinking, because how could he think of anything other than the words staring up at him?

To: Leon

From: Sherry

He didn’t even really hear what the two agents said as they departed, because his heart was hammering so hard in his ears, just as when Hellman had presented one of the letters to him in that interrogation weeks prior. Only now, there was no rage. No fury. Whatever Leon felt now, it was too much. Too much because, after his “recruitment”, he’d never thought to see or hear from Sherry Birkin ever again. 

She was alright.

He hoped that she was alright. 

The answer to that hope lay in his hands, now, written across at least a dozen letters. 

A dozen. 

And he hadn’t known, hadn’t written back to her. Had she thought he was ignoring her? Fewer now, Hellman had said something like that. Fewer letters because why write them if there was no response? The guilt for something else that wasn’t his fault started to worm its way through him, and he had to rip his gaze away from the envelopes.

He found a pair of razor blue eyes fixed on him instead. Krauser’s gaze, for once, held no accusations. None that could compare to what the letters in his hands held. 

The Major studied Leon’s face - an expression that Leon knew must have been a mess of emotion. Emotion brought on because, once more, the Major had kept his promise. “You . . .”

“Told you I would, didn’t I?” Krauser scoffed, and Leon felt guilty for doubting him again. 

“Thank you.” The words didn’t do Leon’s gratitude justice, for this and so much else. Still, he had to go. Had to read through the words that had been withheld from him for so long before lights-out. 

Krauser seemed to know it too. With an exhale, the older man cocked his head to the side. “Go on, rookie. You’re dismissed.” 

Leon didn’t need to be told twice. 

⧫⧫⧫

Hi Leon!

The first few letters all started off like that. Leon read them under the yellow glow of a streetlight, shuffling through the letters one by one. Reading and rereading, feeling like a hand was snaking its way around his heart and squeezing. 

I hope you’re doing okay! They won’t tell me where you are. And I’m not supposed to say where I am, either. They say it’s for my own protection, but they said I could write to you! They even said they’d get me some of those movies we were going to watch! I know you wanted to watch Star Wars together, so I’ll wait to get to that one until you can come visit! 

Leon smiled at that - the kind of joy that made his bottom lip quiver because it was beset with something else. A deeper emotion that stopped real happiness from taking root. 

I’m feeling a lot better, another letter said. Are you? I forgot to ask last time, are you still hurt? I hope you’re feeling better.

Another stab of pain went through his heart, but at least he knew she was okay. As okay as she could be, at least. He took every bit of information that he could from the letters, flipping through them desperately, trying to put together a full picture of the child he’d given up everything for. 

I started reading this book I think you’d like-

Another letter.

I miss going to school, but they said it’s safer if I stay where I am-

And another.

I still get bad dreams sometimes. Do you? 

Another.

I miss having you around.

Another.

Are you okay? I haven’t gotten any letters-

They got shorter and shorter, until at last Leon reached the final one in the pile and his vision blurred. 

Hi Leon.

I hope you get this. I hope you can reply. Are you O.K.? Just a yes or no would be good, if you want to tell me. If you can. 

I hope you’re O.K.

Please write me back if you can. 

There were no more after that. None of the letters were dated, leaving Leon to guess how long it had been between that last letter and now. Weeks? Months? He didn’t know. Did Sherry think he was hurt? Or dead? Or did she just think that he was ignoring her? His mind was cruel to him, imagining the betrayal each unanswered letter must have started to feel like. To have Leon there, taking care of Sherry for those few weeks after Raccoon City, with him sharing silly jokes with her, trying (and mostly failing) to make them both dinner that wasn’t ramen, picking movies to watch or games to play . . . 

And then to have him say a rushed goodbye and not answer her letters . . .

He hadn’t realized he’d been shaking. Didn’t know that his breathing had been so heavy until that moment. 

He hadn’t even really realized he’d been crying until he looked down and saw some of the ink smudged on that last letter. Desperately, he dabbed at the paper with his shirt, trying to save the words. He hadn’t been able to save much of anything, though, had he? Not the people of Raccoon City, not the officers he was supposed to work with, not Ada . . . he couldn’t even save you from the pain you’d suffered on his behalf. Sherry was the one exception. The one thing he’d almost gotten right.

So he clung to the letters and, for the first time in months, alone in the lamplight, Leon let tears fall freely for all that had been taken from him. From Sherry. From you. From everyone that had been dragged into this mess. He allowed himself that, just as he’d allowed himself to fall for you because he needed it. He lamented in a way that he hadn’t been able to in so long, and he cried for what could have been. 

There were still a few hours before Memorial Day, but he supposed it wouldn’t matter if he mourned a little early. The cicadas had started their song before it was time, after all. He’d let himself do the same. 

⧫⧫⧫

The intention had been to study with you. That was what you and the others had agreed on. The meetup had been your idea - Leon was pretty sure you’d asked to do it as a group on everyone’s day off to keep your mind from the holiday and what it represented. To stave off the ghosts. It made him feel more than a little guilty when neither he nor anyone else was in a mood to focus on lock-picking or key phrases in different languages. Not when they all had letters from their loved ones, begging to be answered. 

You’d understood, but Leon hadn’t missed the emptiness in your eyes when you’d insisted that they all take the time to write letters home instead of study. 

“We can all write them together,” Williams offered, smiling. “It’ll be cute ‘n shit.” 

Your smile in response was forced, and Leon felt his heart sink somehow deeper into his chest at the expression. “You all go on ahead,” you said. “I’ll keep myself busy.” 

“You didn’t-” Alenko stopped himself, but Leon imagined he knew what the full sentence would have been. You didn’t get any letters. The soldier’s normally easygoing expression shifted to one of horror at his misstep, and then sympathy in the blink of an eye. “I’m sorry, I-” 

“It’s fine,” you reassured him. Even Leon almost believed you - it must have been a lie you had practice with. You’d never spoken of your family, or your life outside of the military. Leon wondered if there was anything left to speak of - if it would be another story about you with blanks to fill in. Whatever the case, you offered a reassuring look to Alenko and everyone else. “Write home. They’ll want to know you’re all doing okay.” 

It had been a while since you’d given the squad an order, but it was one they all followed. Still, Leon wasn’t about to disobey the other order that Krauser had given the night before and leave you alone. Not when he saw you fiddling with your dog tags already. 

Luckily, Leon wasn’t alone in his concern. That became abundantly clear when, of all people, Valeria pulled him aside. “Give me an hour or so,” she said, “and then go to the med bay. You’ve got a Sergeant to cheer up.” 

His eyes must have betrayed some confusion, because Valeria went on with more of that unnerving sincerity. Unnerving because, up until recently, Leon had never thought to hear it from her. 

“Look,” she began, her dark eyes shifting away from Leon’s as she gathered her thoughts. “I fucked up. I got you both into shit, and I wanna make it right. So I’m gonna help you two freaks out, okay?”

Leon’s lips parted, and he found himself stunned. Still, when the surprise wore off, it left behind only hope. “How are you even gonna pull this off?”

Valeria’s demeanor shifted, because now she had something to poke holes in. “Those CIA bitches want to proofread all our letters? Well, Dina and I got a lot of family to write home to. We can keep them busy for the rest of the day, if we happen to have to rewrite shit because it spilled too much info.” Leon was so caught up in the logistics of the plan Valeria came up with, he almost missed the name she slipped in - one he nearly didn’t recognize, because he never really heard Williams’ first name aloud. 

“Dina, huh?” he couldn’t help but ask, giving Valeria a smile. 

She only realized her slip up in the glint of his teasing look and rolled her eyes. “Whatever, blanquito. Trying to do you a solid, here-”

“And I appreciate it,” Leon insisted, his eyes finding hers, so she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. “I really do, Valeria. Seriously.” 

The short woman scrunched up her nose as she made a face, looking away again. “Yeah, well,” she shrugged, like the whole act of doing something nice made her uncomfortable. “You can return the favor someday.” 

And for his friends? Leon had every intention of doing just that. 

Chapter Text

When the plans to study had been thrown out the window by your own hand, part of you had resigned yourself to a solemn remembrance. Fitting for the day, after all. One meant to commemorate the fallen. You weren’t sure what to do to honor them - the names in that report stashed under your mattress. The ones stamped above empty boxes in a graveyard you couldn’t bring yourself to visit. One of those names, still worn around your neck. A name that you wouldn’t be avenging any time soon, thanks to the broken bones in your side.

Just one of the dozens of names you were failing in your inaction.

You’d clutched that third dog tag in your hand as you sat alone in the infirmary, turning your music on loud and just letting yourself think, however foolish it was. You weren’t sure how else to honor the men and women whose stories you carried. So, even if it would just get you lost in a tempest, you’d begun to wade into the stormy waters. 

You hadn’t gotten very far before there was a knock on your door.

Then your plans were, once again, completely changed.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” Leon had said with a little smile when you opened that door to find him there. 

Even after he’d explained Valeria’s plan, you’d been antsy. Maybe because you doubted her ability to stall the two CIA agents all day, maybe because you didn’t like the idea of owing Valeria anything else. Either way, Leon made it clear that, if you wanted his company, he’d be there.

You almost refused him. 

There was a part of you that wanted to remember alone; to get lost in that storm. 

“You don’t have to,” you told him. “You should be writing back to your family.” 

Something crossed Leon’s eyes that you couldn’t identify, but the sincerity that followed was something you knew all too well from him. “That doesn’t mean that you have to be alone. If you don’t want to be.” 

He was giving you an out. Offering you the option of taking that time for yourself . . . but you didn’t know when you’d have another opportunity like this. You couldn’t be sure that you and Leon would be able to be together at all until the end of his training, if even then. 

The only problem was that it was today. 

It was today and even if you’d been allowed to go off base and mourn, to attend a service or even see their empty graves, you didn’t know that you would. Last year on Memorial Day, you’d been determined to remember them through service. You’d been training, then. Pushing yourself to never fail anyone like you’d failed them. What greater way of honoring them was there? This year, though, your own body had caged you from that option. You didn’t know how to honor your fallen.

“Not sure I’ll be good company today,” you warned Leon. 

He just shrugged, his expression becoming more knowing. Understanding. “Not sure I will be, either.” Because you weren’t the only one with fallen to remember. You felt insensitive for thinking only of yourself, then. Especially when Leon seemed to be thinking only of you. “But my company’s yours if you want it.” 

You hesitated a moment, your lips pressed tight together. 

“Did you finish writing your letters?” you asked, because you had seen the look on Leon’s face that morning. You’d seen how desperately he’d wanted to respond to the letters he’d received. 

Just as you could see now that writing those return letters was proving to be difficult. 

“No. Not yet. Not sure what to write, honestly.” 

You nodded, your mouth twisting as you made your decision. “Well . . . write them in here, then.” 

So, there the two of you sat, you on the bed, Leon in the chair and hunched over the nearby table, staring at a half-written letter. You had to promise him several times that it was alright for him to write it in your company before he actually got to finishing it. Or trying to, at least. You could see his mind rushing, trying to come up with the right words, his borrowed pen drumming against the table just as your fingers found their own beat against the metal of the tags around your neck. 

 “Sorry,” he eventually apologized. “I didn’t think this would take so long.” 

You could sympathize. You weren’t sure what you’d put in your letter home, if you were writing one. Though, it occurred to you, you didn't know if that’s where Leon was writing to. You assumed, with the slightly messy handwriting of the letters he’d brought with him, that he was writing to a kid. That only made the process more difficult, as far as you could tell. So, you shook your head, flipping to another radio station. “Don’t worry about it,” you told him. Then, after a moment spent looking down at Leon’s letters . . . “Little sister?” you asked, taking a guess. 

Leon’s smile came with a little laugh. “Sure, something like that.” 

Something like that?

“You don’t have a secret kid you haven’t told me about, do you?” 

A little hesitation and a strange look from Leon, and at once a look of horror crossed your face. One that made him laugh. 

“Not like that!” he reassured you, shaking his head, waving his hands in front of him. It was a moment before he collected his thoughts, and when he did, there was a sense of somberness to him. One you recognized all too well. It was a look that overtook him whenever he talked about that night, if fear didn’t get to him first. So, you weren’t surprised when he explained where he met the little girl in the letters. “She was in Raccoon City. Her parents . . . her parents died there. So when we made it out, I took care of her for a while.” 

That was . . . not that surprising, actually. Not when it came to Leon. He would offer to house some kid who had nowhere else to go, even after he’d been through so much.

“So . . . a secret kid that you never told me about.” You grinned a little as you spoke, letting him know you were teasing. You were sure that helped Leon’s own smile as he looked back at you. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

“Why haven’t you mentioned her before?” you couldn’t help but ask, because clearly this girl meant a lot to Leon. 

 But then, you of all people knew what it was to keep your heart guarded, didn’t you? 

“I don’t know,” Leon admitted, his voice quieter. “I guess I just . . . didn’t know how. Not something that ever really came up in conversation.” 

Another nod as you looked down at the floor, then back up at the mystery that was your lover. You’d given each other so many pieces of yourselves, but still had so much else locked away. 

“What’s her name?” you asked.

Leon smiled as he answered. “Sherry.”

Sherry. Another name from his past. Another piece of who he was. 

Another name that had an unexpected weight for you, too. 

“She was Birkin’s daughter.” 

Your eyes widened, because that name brought on nothing but anger in you. “The scientist?” The man who had helped take everything from you, even indirectly. The bastard responsible for the destruction of Raccoon City. You remembered his correspondence with the CIA, demanding protection for him, yes, but his family too. 

Sherry. 

Leon nodded, solemn. “He almost killed his own kid.” 

You were full of anger and retribution - that had been all you’d known for so long before Leon. But even you didn’t have it in you to be angry at a child for the sins of her father. 

“Then it’s good she had you,” you told Leon, because you could see that Sherry, even if she wasn’t his own flesh and blood, meant a lot to him. That was all but confirmed in the grateful smile he gave you in return. One that turned more sad. 

“I wish I could have done more for her.”

Of course he did. Whatever good Leon did, you had the feeling it would never be enough for him. 

“Is that who they were asking about?” you couldn’t help but ask, and it was Leon’s turn for brief confusion. “Hellman. Back in the prison,” you said, and you felt bad that the color drained a little from his face at the mention of it. Still, you’d been curious since that day. “They asked about someone’s name. A girl. Was it her? Or Ada?” 

Leon’s lips tightened, and he shook his head. “No.” Neither. Interesting. “No, that was . . .” he hesitated, and you half expected him to say pass. It had been a while since you’d needed to use that system, but you’d imagined it may make a reappearance. 

Instead, you got a full answer. 

“They were asking about Claire,” Leon explained, his voice low like he was afraid someone might overhear. “I met her that night, too. On the way into Raccoon City. She’s the one who saved Sherry, but she was looking for her brother after everything, so I agreed to take Sherry while Claire went looking.” 

You nodded as you listened, this being the first you’d heard of this woman - another shadow Leon carried from that night, it seemed. 

“What’s she like? Sherry?” 

Leon looked surprised at the change in topic, but eventually smiled. “Smart. Maybe a little too smart for her own good, sometimes.” There was a fondness to his voice that melted your heart. “Persistent as hell, too. She really wanted me to get a dog for her. Almost convinced me, too.” He chuckled to himself at a memory you weren’t privy to, but his gaze slid down to the floor, the levity in his eyes fading a touch. “She’s tough, too. A lot tougher than me.” 

You nodded, because for a child to have lived through the hell of Raccoon City . . .

“She shouldn’t have had to live through that,” Leon said, after a moment. You could hear the utter regret in his voice, and you knew he was wishing he could have shielded her from it all better. Of course, you understood. You wouldn’t wish what you’d seen on anyone, especially not a child. Sherry shouldn’t have had to see what she’d seen, but-

“Neither should you.” 

Leon grimaced at your words, shaking his head. “None of us should have. None of this should have happened.” 

“But it did.” 

He nodded, looking down. “But it did,” he nodded, his eyes shifting from your face down - down to the clenched fist held just inches away from your heart, where you held your dog tags. It looked like he was gathering the courage to say something - and finding that courage didn’t take him as long as it once did. “Can I ask you something?” Even now, he was still too polite for his own good. 

“Sure.” You had a feeling you knew what that question was going to be before it even left Leon’s lips. 

You were proven right a second later. 

“You wear three tags,” he said, looking back up to your eyes. The observation cut deep and pinned you in place. “The third one . . . is it your Captain’s?” 

You knew you could refuse him an answer, just as you had for months whenever he asked about your past or the people in it. If you wanted, you could say one word and Leon would drop the subject, no questions asked. 

But you’d wanted him to know everything, hadn’t you? You’d promised him, back before Fort Benning and all the mess that followed, that you would tell him about the man whose name and fate you had literally tied around your own neck. The man you’d considered a father in a time when you’d needed one, and a man you’d failed. 

Leon deserved to know. So, you nodded. “It was.” 

“And what was his name?” His question mirrored your own in a way that made your heart squeeze. 

You answered with a tight voice because you hadn’t spoken his name out loud since you gave the report hidden only feet away from you. “Simon Reynolds.”  

A moment of silence passed between the two of you, one where you could see Leon debating something. Eventually, when he spoke up again, his voice was soft. “What was he like?”

What was Reynolds like? The question hit you like a bullet, because for over a year you had thought more of his death than the man himself. Grief and vengeance had blurred the image of him in your mind, making him into a catalyst instead of a person. It wasn’t what he deserved, so as Leon asked the question, you let yourself go back to another time. One where you were a shitty kid who thought the world was out to get you. And maybe it had been, in the end, but for a while, Captain Simon Reynolds had been there to guide that anger at the world into something else. Something that could do good instead of harm. 

“He was . . . firm. But never unfair. Kind of guy to tell you when you fucked up, but he wouldn’t hold it against you if you learned. Never made you feel bad about asking for help when you needed it.” You couldn’t help but smile at the memory of him, like you were seeing him, really seeing him, for the first time in ages. “Used to say ‘if you can’t run, you crawl, and if you can’t do that, then you find someone to carry you’.” 

Leon smiled at that, nodding like the words were taking root. You’d figured they would. “I think I would have liked him.” 

“You would have. He’d have loved you.” They would have been insufferable, you imagined, if there was a world where they could have met. If he could have met all of your second family. “They all would have.”

“Your old unit?” Leon asked, and you didn’t miss the hesitancy in his voice. He didn’t want to overstep, but he wanted to know. 

“Yeah.” 

“You’ve never talked about them much.” 

You took a breath, then, because that fact had been weighing on you and now was as good a time as any. So, with a little exhale as movement made pain flare in your ribs, you got up from the bed and reached under the mattress for the manila folder you’d hidden in the lining. Leon watched you with parted lips, right up until you found what you were looking for and handed him a collection of papers. “Good day to change that,” you told him, and his eyes widened as he read your name off the paper. 

“This is-” 

“Everything that happened that night. My report on it. Their stories.” The ones that had been barred from the rest of the world. “All of it.” 

The two of you looked at each other, then, Leon’s eyes widening as it sunk in just what you were telling him. You were ready. You wanted him to know, after months and months of hiding these deeper scars. 

“Krauser also gave me this,” you went on, handing him a second stack of papers. One with his own name printed in black. Leon’s eyes flashed in momentary fear, but you assuaged it quickly. “I didn’t read it.” 

The news made him tilt his head to the side a bit, and he looked between you and the report. “Why?” he asked, because you could have known everything. You could have seen into the wounds he’d been hiding, and that just made his confusion all the more ironic to you. Did he really think you’d do that to him? 

“Because you hadn’t told me yet,” you said simply. That was all it came down to. He hadn’t been ready to share those details, and you wouldn’t take that choice from him. Leon would tell you when he was ready. “I wanted to hear it from you.”

As he realized that, he smiled up at you, soft and sweet. It meant a great deal to him, you could see it in his eyes. Even as they took on a more knowing glint and he handed the reports back to you. 

“What makes you think I want anything different, then?” he asked, and your traitorous heart squeezed at the words. “If you want to tell me, if you’re ready, I want to hear it from you too.”

You took the papers, huffing and giving him a look. “Not gonna let me take the easy way out?” 

Leon just smiled back at you. “Nope. Unless you’d really rather I-” 

“No,” you shook your head, resolute as you braced yourself for what was to come. Because your comrades, your friends, your brothers and sisters, they deserved to have their stories told properly. Even if it was to someone they’d never met. “I want to. I want you to know. Just . . . it’s . . .” 

“Take it as slow as you need,” Leon told you, reaching for your hand. “God knows I’ll probably have to, too.” 

You looked down at him, searching his face. “That mean you’re ready too?” To tell you everything, all the details you’d only guessed at for months. To share the burden with you. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking a little sad. “Like you said, it’s a good day for it.” 

A day to remember the fallen - something you both had your fair share of. A day to mourn, and to try and move forward. So, with another deep breath, you nodded and decided to take a risk. You tugged on his hand, and without needing to be told, he rose and followed you the few steps to your bed. There, sitting on the edge, surrounded by letters and reports and soft music, the two of you looked at each other. It was a different kind of intimacy than what you’d already shared, different than the excitement of you kissing him in the darkness, of you sharing in stolen moments of pleasure. What you were about to share was deeper than that, and you both knew it. This was everything. This was who you had been and who you'd been reforged into. This was the scar you didn't dare to show to anyone, the bones that remained broken even as you tried to heal. One night that had destroyed you, one night that had destroyed him. Nights that, in some terrible way, had led you both right here, to each other.

So, you looked at each other, silently making sure you were both ready before, after a moment, Leon gave you a half smile. One of sadness and solidarity both. “So . . . who goes first?” 

As the two of you shared your stories, as you spoke of the nights that your lives forever changed, his hand never left yours. 

Chapter Text

He hadn’t known, at the time - how could he have known? - but it started with a mission. A mission, soldiers, a doctor and a sample. 

A few vials, something so small, that could cause so much trouble. 

A doctor defecting in fear, running to the US and taking a bioweapon with him. He hadn’t known that Umbrella was tracking his moves - that they were going to be there when he made his escape. They couldn’t have known the threat one doctor could pose - all thanks to those vials he possessed. They couldn’t have known it would end that way. None of them could have. 

Leon hadn’t known then that so much destruction could come from one man. He hadn’t even thought to imagine what would happen within the week. He had been more concerned with the boxes and packing tape that had surrounded him, signaling a new start. A new life. Officer Kennedy. It was a title he would be proud to wear, once it was actually given to him. He’d wished his girlfriend had felt the same. She’d been proud, sure, but she hadn’t wanted to move to Raccoon City. She had been scared by the news reports, and didn’t want to go with him. Even if he couldn’t blame her, exactly, it was a fresh wound that, at the time, had stung deeply. 

That was what he was concerned with, when he’d gotten that call. 

⧫⧫⧫

You hadn’t known, at the time - even if your gut had told you something was wrong - but it started with a mission. A mission, soldiers, a doctor and a sample. 

A few vials, something so small, that could cause so much trouble. 

A researcher driven by greed, escaping to Russia and taking a bioweapon with her. She hadn’t known that the buyers she was going to meet were being tracked, a squad of elite soldiers hunting extremists. It wasn’t the researcher that posed the threat, or the men she was selling her merchandise to. It was those vials she held. They couldn’t have known what they would do. None of them could have. 

You hadn’t known then that so much pain could come from so small a thing. You had thought it a little strange, seeing a wounded squad of spec ops soldiers barely beat a blizzard to your base, just as you thought it strange that they brought a terrified-looking woman along with them. Strange, but not strange enough to distract from the still-new pride you wore, and the rank that had caused it. Sergeant. It had a nice ring to it, you thought. It had been a few months since your promotion, but the pride hadn’t worn off. Your bunk-mates liked to tease you that your ego was all that had grown, not your importance, but you didn’t mind that. You’d earned your rank, and you proved it every day, taking to your duties with dedication. Duties like the patrol you were set to complete.

That was all you’d really been concerned with, before one of your fellows pulled you aside for a warning. 

⧫⧫⧫

“Is this Leon Kennedy?” 

“Yes, who is-”

“Stay away from Raccoon City.” 

“What?” Leon asked, because . . . because that city was his future. 

He’d never forget the tone of the man on the other side. Deathly serious, like this was the most important piece of advice that Leon would ever receive. “This is Sergeant Neil Carlsen with the RPD. I’m sure you’ve heard of the violence happening here, and kid? If you value your life, you’ll stay the hell away.”

“But, sir-”

“Trust me, Leon,” the man said, and he sounded pained. Defeated. “Stay away.”

Click. The sound of the phone being hung up interrupted any further questions Leon might have had. And there he’d stood in his near-packed up apartment, having just been pulled back from the precipice of a new life. He’d wanted to ask why - to say that surely it couldn’t be that bad in Raccoon City. To tell the man that he could help if things really were . Instead, after a moment of stunned stillness, Leon opened one of the boxes beside him and fished out a bottle. Whiskey. A graduation present from the very woman who had, it seemed, ended things with him for nothing. Stay away. Ultimately, when the whiskey could offer no more escape a few days later and the news reports got worse and worse, Leon found that he couldn’t obey the order. 

So, he set out late one night, ignoring the warning he’d been given.

Unaware that, down the road he traveled that night in Raccoon City, something was spreading. Growing. Mutating. 

Unaware that, by morning, everything he knew would be forever changed. 

⧫⧫⧫

“Yo, Sarge, you hear about the fight in the mess hall?” 

“What?” you asked, your look betraying that you had not, in fact, heard.

You’d never forget that incredulous look as Rain nodded. Like something ridiculous had happened, completely and utterly ridiculous, but something that spooked even her. “Those spec ops guys that came in today? Bunch of ‘em went psycho, got into a fight. Like, a messy one.” 

“Anyone hurt?” 

“Oh, shit yeah. Bunch of our guys. Fuckers were, like, biting and scratching and shit.” She held up her hand, displaying a red line, jagged but shallow. “They’re whacked. That doctor of whatever that they brought with them was freaking out too, I guess. Saying they need to be quarantined.” You’d seen the woman in the holding cells a few times, and each of them she’d been raving like a madwoman. It struck you then as a woman knowing she was screwed, that whatever fucked up shit she’d been doing, she’d been caught at last. Still, something twisted in your gut as Rain told you about the fight, because spec ops didn’t act like that, in your limited experience. Something was off. “So, you want my advice? Stay away.” 

“Sergeant,” the voice of your Captain interrupted any further questions, and he approached with a shake of his head. He looked . . . worried. “Enough gossip. Don’t want to leave Morales out in the cold alone, do you?” 

So you obeyed, heading off to complete your duties. 

Unaware that, within that very building you’d come to call home, something was spreading. Growing. Mutating. 

Unaware that, by morning, everything you knew would be forever changed. 

⧫⧫⧫

The song on the radio was one Leon liked. Guitar and words of frustration. A lament disguised as anger. It screamed against the rain pounding on the windows of Leon’s car, the sound of his tires turning against the road. His only companion on the journey had been that music. 

He was glad of at least that music as he drove towards the one place he’d been told to stay away from. The songs kept him from diving too far into his own thoughts, staving off the questions of what the hell are you doing, Leon? It didn’t matter how dangerous it was. 

He could help, so he would. 

That was what he had to remind himself of as he pulled into a gas station off the road, and at last the music was cut off in favor of the rain. A few cars and a police cruiser sat there, but that was all that greeted him. 

Rain, empty cars . . . and blood. 

So, after taking a steadying breath, Leon set out into the dark station in search of the source. Trying to ignore the weight of the gun he carried and the sinking in his heart.

He didn’t know what he thought he’d find in that gas station, in dark and disorganized space. All he knew was that when he found the officer, struggling and losing until his opponent was on top of him, as he heard the screams, Leon had frozen in place.

Because no amount of training had prepared him to see anyone tear out the throat of another person with her teeth. If what Leon was faced with could really be called a person. Pale skin ready to fall free from the muscles beneath it, eyes milky white and empty of feeling, and a mouth bloodied with death. 

⧫⧫⧫

The song playing from the radio was one that you liked. Synth and too-happy vocals. A call to dance, an invitation to live even if you couldn’t understand every word - a local tune, you thought. It sounded against the silence as you sat in the watchtower, the flurry outside the windows getting worse and worse. Bad enough that the song on the radio faded to static before too long, before it was gone altogether. 

“Aw, come on-” the voice of the man at your side complained. At least you weren’t alone to watch the blizzard worsening outside. David was good company, even with his dramatics. “No no no!” he pleaded, switching stations like he was trying to stave off death itself. You could sympathize - the guard shift would be boring as all hell without that music. Then again, you supposed it didn’t matter how boring it was. 

It was your job, so you would do it. 

That was what you resolved as the two of you made light conversation until at last, the hours had passed and it was time for the two of you to leave so Rain and another could take your places. 

Only, Rain was nowhere to be found. 

So, after a teasing remark from David, you set out into the cold in search of her. Trying to ignore the weight of the gun you carried and the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

You didn’t know what you thought you’d find out there in the storm, in the space between the base proper and the guard tower you’d been in. All you knew was that when you found her, her body pressed up against another’s, as you heard the screams, you had frozen in place.

Because no amount of training had prepared you to see your friend tear out the throat of another person with her teeth. If what you were faced with could really be called your friend. Pale skin ready to fall free from the muscles beneath it, eyes milky white and empty of feeling, and a mouth bloodied with death. 

⧫⧫⧫

Terror, sharp and cold, pierced Leon, because he was seeing someone die. He was seeing another person take a life - tearing it apart. Ripping. Tearing. Devouring. 

What do I do what do I do what do I-

“Freeze!” Leon cried. He’d earned top marks for his ability with a gun. He knew what he was doing. Even so, he found the weapon too heavy and too shaky in his hands. “I’ll- I’ll shoot!” 

The once-person didn’t listen. 

Please don’t make me-

Leon pulled the trigger on his pistol because he was afraid and this thing already killed someone and . . . and it didn’t really matter as the man fell to the floor. It didn’t matter because he’d never shot someone before. Never taken a life. He stared at the corpse, hand shaking, staring at his handiwork. The corpse stared up at him, bloody mouth agape, looking well and truly dead . . . 

Only to get back up. 

Bullets. For that first man-turned monster, and the second, and all those that came after that. Until Leon found himself looking down the barrel at a pair of wide, blue eyes. 

He would thank god every day for Claire’s arrival . . . and curse him because it meant more souls having to endure the hell that followed. 

⧫⧫⧫

Terror, sharp and cold, pierced you, because you were seeing someone die. You were seeing your friend take a life - tearing it apart. Ripping. Tearing. Devouring. 

What do I do what do I do what do I-

“Rain!” You cried and lunged for her without thinking, trying to pull her off of the other soldier. Spence. You recognized him now, even with death turning him limp. His body fell just as Rain whirled on you, teeth bared. “Stop!” you begged as you struggled, even as her strength and ferocity threatened to overpower you. 

Your once-friend didn’t listen. 

Please don’t make me-

You squeezed the trigger on your weapon because you were afraid and she’d already killed someone and . . . and it didn’t really matter as Rain fell to the floor. It didn’t matter because you’d never shot someone before. Never taken a life. You stared at the corpse, hand shaking, staring at your handiwork. Rain stared up at you, bloody mouth agape, looking well and truly dead . . . 

Only to get back up. 

Bullets. For that first friend-turned monster, and the second, and all those that came after that. Until you found yourself looking down the barrel at a pair of wide brown eyes. 

Whatever was happening, at least David wasn’t a part of it. At least you’d have someone with you. That was what you thought in the moment, but that thought changed quickly, because he wouldn’t survive the hell that followed. 

⧫⧫⧫

He was alone again before too long. 

Surrounded, but alone. 

He’d been grateful for Claire’s presence, however briefly he had it. When they’d been separated, he could only hope that she’d be okay. That she’d find her own way. And so he’d carried on into the Raccoon City Police Station. The place he would have spent his days, if things had been different. He felt his heart hammering sickeningly in his throat as he looked for survivors, his fellow officers, anything .

And within minutes, he’d found what he was looking for. 

His presence only delayed the inevitable. He hadn’t known Elliot Edward. He might have, in another life. He might have shared a morning coffee with him, or worked late nights on a case together. Now, though, all Leon would know of the man was the sound of his screams, the scent of his blood . . . the feeling of his body going limp in Leon’s grasp. 

Leon might have joined him, were it not for one man.

He never thought he’d feel relief at the sound of a cracking skull, but as the officer’s boot and a security gate both came down on the zombie’s head, Leon let himself sink into that feeling. It only grew as he looked up, seeing an exhausted, paling face and bloodied hands. 

“You’re safe. For now.” 

For now. And in that moment, it all came crashing down around him. Leon could only remain where he was on the floor of the RPD station, his mind struggling to keep up as he realized what he’d just seen, how he’d failed. How he’d be dead too, were it not for the officer standing over him. 

Lieutenant Marvin Branagh - another name Leon might have known. One he would carry with him forever. One he failed. 

“Leon Kennedy,” he introduced himself after Marvin did, trying to steady his breathing enough to speak. “There was another officer . . . I-I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t . . .”

I couldn’t save him. He’s dead because of me.

Marvin’s face - drawn in pain - softened as he held out a hand. “Here. I’m sure you did what you could, Leon.” 

But it wasn’t enough. He only hoped that, at some point tonight, it could be. 

⧫⧫⧫

You were alone again before too long. 

Surrounded, but alone. 

You wished that David hadn’t been with you. That he’d found his own way, somehow, because it became clear to you that night that being near you was a death sentence. You’d run back to the main base, both of you, greeted by the sounds of snarls and gunfire. Your home of the last few years. You felt sick to your stomach seeing the evidence of more death staining the walls, but you and David searched for your comrades. 

And within a few minutes, you found what you were looking for. 

You weren’t fast enough to save him. The men and women who had once served with you, who’d been family to you and David both had acted just as they’d been trained to; quickly and with overwhelming force. You’d known David for years - you’d known all of them for years. You’d shared in laughs and difficult times, you’d had your first drink with them. And now, you knew the sound of David’s screams, the scent of his blood, the feeling of helplessness as you fired and fired but couldn’t stop them. 

You might have joined him, were it not for one man. 

The sound of another gun was a welcome relief. High caliber. A sound you were familiar with. The creature on top of you, the one wearing the face of a man you’d known as James, went still as the bullets shattered its skull. You scrambled out from under it and you felt a wave of relief crash into you as you found a face that was home to you. 

“You hurt, kid? Did they bite you?”

Captain Simon Reynolds - another name of a person you cared for. Loved. One you would carry forever. One that you failed. 

“No,” you shook your head, still checking yourself over. Then scrambling towards the body of your friend a few feet away. The pieces left of him. “I tried . . . I . . . fuck, I tried-”

I couldn’t save him. He’s dead because of me.

A hand grasped your shoulder as you knelt over David’s corpse, shaking. “Kid,” Reynolds said, his voice too kind and calm for whatever was happening. “I know. I know you tried.”

But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. 

⧫⧫⧫

A gun pointed at him, a look of terror in wise eyes. 

Leon didn’t know what to do, just that there had to be something. If he could get Marvin to the hospital . . . but what would be the point? Would the staff even be alive to treat him? Was it possible to treat this? So, that left only one conclusion.

“It’s too late.”

Marvin didn’t move beyond that, his weapon trained at Leon to keep him away, his hands splattered with his own blood. The wound in his side drained him of more than just his lifeblood, Leon could see it. 

“I tried, Leon . . . but I couldn’t stop it. We can’t let this thing spread,” because there couldn’t be more lives destroyed. This couldn’t happen anywhere else. “It’s on you now.”

There was no other choice. Not for Marvin, not for Leon. 

“I understand.”

That was all he could say, all he could promise as he left the man who would have been his Lieutenant behind, taking the knife he'd been given with him. He fought alone through the tunnels beneath the station, fighting through horror after horror for who knew how long. Pushing past the knowledge that the monsters he put down had been people, once. Ones he should have protected. He fought and fought, until once more, Raccoon City threw something at him that he hadn’t been ready for. 

The dog’s teeth snapped over his face, breath smelling of death and decay. One of the hounds the RPD kept before the outbreak. 

Leon’s gun was out of his hands on the floor beside him. He couldn’t reach it, even as the dog’s weight bore down on him. 

Even as those teeth grew closer and closer to him.

A snarl as it tried to bite into him . . .

. . . and a gunshot that saved him from an instant death. 

That was how he met her. Wrapped in an aura of mystery, dark eyes hidden behind dark glasses. She presented a badge, telling Leon that she was FBI, and he would realize that lie all too late. He was never sure if Ada was her real name, but he did know that she would save his life many times that night. 

The woman in the red dress - the one who found a way to his heart and broke it with equal ease. 

⧫⧫⧫

A gun cocking, a look of determination in wise eyes. 

You didn’t know what to do, just that there had to be something. If you could just find a way to get a signal out, to call for help . . . but what would be the point? Even if comms and the phone lines weren’t down, the blizzard outside would make it almost impossible for help to reach the base. So, that left only one option.

“We’ve got to keep moving.” 

Reynolds lead the way, weapon at the ready, his face splattered with the blood of his men. Your comrades. The ones taken by madness. The battles drained your Captain of strength of every kind. 

“If we can’t be sure anyone got our SOS, then we find who we can and we hold out. We see if we can stop this thing,” because he didn’t want to put down another of his men. You didn’t either, so you had to believe him. “You with me, Sergeant?” 

There was no other choice. Not for Reynolds, not for you. 

“Always.”

And so you set out across Dorne Base, you and your Captain, searching for what survivors you could find, directing them back to the armory, where you hoped they would be safe. You faced horror after horror for hours, pushing past the knowledge that the monsters you felled had once been your comrades. Your friends - your men. Ones you should have protected. You fought and fought, until once more, the base threw something at you that you were unprepared for. 

The claws swiped within an inch of your throat, twisted from the arm of what had once been a human. One of the spec ops soldiers that had arrived the day before. 

Your bullets did nothing as you opened fire, sinking into the things chest. Only Reynolds was able to pull it off of you, his knife sinking into the monster’s neck as the three of you struggled. 

Even then, the once-man swung at you, making you fall but missing you. 

A cry of pain as teeth sunk into your Captain’s flesh . . . 

. . . and a series of gunshots that saved him from an instant death. 

That was how you met him. Clad in dark gear, empty eyes hidden behind the red lenses of a gas mask. He and his men bore the marks of US Special Forces, and you would realize that lie all too late. You were never sure what his name was, but you were sure that he saved your life many times that night. 

The man in the gas mask - the one who stood by your side only to drive his knife into it. 

Chapter Text

His heart racing, his body tensing. There was a shotgun to Leon’s head. The man behind it was brow-beaten and bloody, standing between Leon and the figure of a little girl watching them impassively. 

A little girl whose skin was gray in the glow of the streetlights, one eye already turning a milky white. Leon couldn’t see where she’d been bitten, but it was obvious that she had been. 

A child. No older than twelve. And she was going to die.

“Step aside,” Ada ordered. “We need to terminate her before she turns.” 

Maybe it was a mercy, but Leon was still horrified at the words, because whatever was going to happen to her, this was still a child. 

“Terminate?” the man hissed. “That’s my fucking daughter!” 

Ada didn’t lower her gun, nor did the father protecting his daughter. Not until Leon spoke. 

“Ada . . . just let them be,” he said, his voice solemn because there was nothing else he could do. He’d fought the monsters back in the police station, and he’d fight whatever was to come, but he couldn’t fight the virus in the girl’s blood. He couldn’t save her from this. He couldn’t stop this from happening any more than the girl’s father could. 

He didn’t have help for the man, nor did he have answers for him. All Leon could do was let his heart slowly crater into his stomach as, after a moment, the man lifted his daughter in his arms and took her away. Embracing her as he embraced the inevitable. 

“Just give us some privacy.” 

The sound of a gunshot moments later nearly made Leon sick, because it shouldn’t have ended like that. And it wouldn’t for anyone else. He would lay down his life before that happened. 

So, a plan was formed. A mission, however desperate. Ada would lead him down into the tunnels beneath the city, into the belly of the beast. There, with any luck they would find the people responsible for this. The scientist. The one who’d created this virus, the one they needed to bring to justice. 

A scientist . . . and the sample. The virus that started all of this.

And he would trust this woman with him . . . even if her arrival was strange. Even if she wouldn’t show her full face. Even if she avoided so many of his questions. He would trust her because, exhausted and outnumbered as he was, what choice was there?

“We might not make it out,” Ada warned, with genuine concern hidden beneath the smooth veneer of her voice. She was giving him an out.

But Leon shook his head. “Whatever it takes to save this city, count me in.” 

He wished he’d known then that all his determination, all the blood he would shed . . . none of it would make a difference. 

⧫⧫⧫

Your heart racing, your body tensing. There was a submachine gun to your head. The man behind it was unreadable behind his mask, standing on one side of you, with your Captain behind you. 

Reynolds, whose blood-flecked skin still held color and life, even if his eyes were wide with dread. His arm bled, though, crimson dripping from a jagged bite mark that had torn through his fatigues. 

Your Captain. The man who’d been your rock to cling to for years. And he was going to die. 

“Step aside,” the masked man ordered. “He’s infected. We have to take him out.” 

Maybe he was right, but you felt molten as you heard the words, rage boiling over in you because whatever was going to happen, this was your Captain.

“Like hell we do,” you snarled. “We’re not fucking shooting him.” 

The masked man didn’t move, nor did the other soldiers with him, but you stood firm. At least until Reynolds spoke. 

“It takes a while, doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice solemn because there was nothing else he could do. He’d fought the monsters that had become of his men, and you knew he’d fight whatever was to come, but he couldn’t beat the enemy lurking beneath his skin. He couldn’t stop this from happening any more than you could. 

 You didn’t have help, nor did you have answers for him. All you could do was fight the urge to scream as Simon Reynolds resolved to help as long as he was able. Clinging to his duty while you tried to cling to some hope. 

“If it gets that bad, I’ll do it myself.”

The promise had you shaking your head, because it couldn’t end like that. It wouldn’t. You would tear the world apart before that happened. 

So, a plan was formed. A mission, however desperate. While the rest of the newly arrived soldiers escorted your men to their transport, to safety, you, Reynolds and the masked man before you would find the one person who might know something about this, the one person who might be able to help. If she was still alive. The researcher, the woman the Spec Ops soldiers had detained, who had warned against all of this when she arrived. 

A researcher . . . and the sample. The virus that started all of this.

And you would trust these newcomers . . . even if their arrival was strange. Even if they wouldn’t show their faces. Even if the weapons they used weren’t standard issue. You would trust them because, exhausted and outnumbered as you were, what choice was there?

“Kid,” Reynolds said, shaking his head. “You don’t gotta do this. You can go with the others.” You could get out. 

But you shook your head. “Can’t do that, Captain.” You smiled at him, despite it all. “You might need me to carry you.” 

You wished you’d known then that all your resolve, all the strength you would conjure up . . . none of it would make a difference. 

⧫⧫⧫

Leon had been trained to protect. He reminded himself of that as he descended into the tunnels beneath Raccoon City, his mysterious companion at his side. It didn’t matter what they faced, how sharp the claws or how big the teeth. He would overcome it all. He had to. For what remained of the city he’d vowed to serve, he had to.

So, he fought. 

Even a maw of teeth big enough to swallow him whole wasn’t enough to stop him. If there was even a hope that Umbrella could be brought to justice, if the lives lost wouldn’t be for nothing, then Leon would face down the whole world to see it through. So, after surviving the horrors lurking in the sewers, he and Ada pressed on.  

But it wasn’t the monsters that finally brought him down.

The scientist wasn’t what Leon expected. He hadn’t thought her to be such a simple-looking woman, his mind conjuring some image of a madman in her place. Instead, it was a woman who had helped create this plague. A wife. A mother. 

“Annette Birkin.” Ada’s gun was already trained on the woman. So was Leon’s. 

“She’s who we’re looking for?” 

The woman stood, calm and composed, staring down the pair. 

Ada wasted no time. “We’re here for the G-Virus.”

A scoff. Then, the woman smiled, confident in her conviction. “That’s not going to happen.” 

“I’m warning you, Doctor.”

“Oh yeah?” 

And then she was running. Leon broke after her, but Ada was faster. She raised her weapon as she rounded the corner-

A series of bangs. 

A showering of sparks. 

Leon was moving before he could even think of what he was doing. 

“Ada!”

He moved because she might die if he didn’t . . . 

And he was just fast enough. 

⧫⧫⧫

You had been trained for war. You reminded yourself of that as you carved a path through Dorne Base once more, your Captain and a masked soldier at your side. It didn’t matter what you faced, how many of your former friends tried to tear into you. You would get through it all. You had to. For the man who’d guided you for so many years, you had to. 

So, you fought. 

You let yourself get lost in a single purpose, a single mission. If there was even a chance that the woman in the holding cells could save an ever-weakening Reynolds, then you would move heaven and earth to get to her. So, after obtaining the sample that the soldiers had arrived with, you and your group pressed on. 

But it wasn’t the monsters that finally brought you down. 

The researcher was more terrified than the last time you’d seen her. The woman who’d tried to warn all of you what was coming - a prophet you’d all chosen to ignore. 

“It’s your lucky day,” you hissed to her, unlocking her cell. 

The woman - another mystery to you and everyone on base, was frantic to join you when the door slid open. 

“Thank god,” she said, looking between you and a now-pale Reynolds. 

You wasted no time. “The virus. Is there a cure for it?” 

“W-what?” she stammered, her eyes focusing on Reynolds, doubled over now as pain ripped through him. “No. No there’s-” 

Her eyes found the red lenses of the gas mask moving towards her. Towards the three of you. You watched as her face paled in recognition. Terror. 

And then she was running. You moved after her, but the masked soldier was faster. He grabbed her arm as she tried to slip past him-

A flash of steel. 

A wet splattering of blood.

You were frozen in place, trying to understand what you were seeing. 

“What are you-”

You tried to move as the knife came at you, because it had just opened a red smile in the researcher’s throat . . .

And you weren’t fast enough. 

⧫⧫⧫

The gun went off once. Twice. Three more times.

He was moving, his feet leaving the ground as he jumped, becoming a shield. Protecting. Doing what he had been trying to do all night. Leon barely felt the bullet impact at first, until he and Ada hit the ground and his freshly pierced shoulder screamed in agony. Leon cried out as he landed on the concrete, head spinning as something in his shoulder came out of alignment and slipped where it shouldn’t have been. It was all he could manage because in his twenty-one years of living, he’d never felt pain like this. 

He looked up, and wide, dark eyes where a pair of glasses should have been greeted him.

That, and the sound of Ada speaking his name, soft and worried. He barely heard her.

I’m bleeding. That was the only clear thought in his mind. The only thing that mattered as the world blurred and twisted and darkened. As pain washed over and dissolved all other thought. I’m bleeding and I-

He had just enough left in him to murmur a few words, a plea for the woman looking down at him.

“Just go! Stop her before she gets away.” 

Darkness took him a moment later. 

⧫⧫⧫

The knife went into you once. Twice. Three times. 

You were too slow. That was all you could think as your gun remained idle in your hands. Unable to reach for your training or your instincts because this wasn’t happening. You heard more than felt the bone break under the steel, a pathetic sound escaping your lips. It was all you could manage because in your twenty years of living, you had never felt pain like this. 

You looked up, and red lenses where eyes should have been were all that greeted you.

That, and the sound of someone screaming your name. The blade coming free of you, spilling blood with it, and then a struggle. Gunfire. 

I’m bleeding. That was the only clear thought in your mind. The only thing that mattered as the world blurred and twisted and darkened. As pain washed over and dissolved all other thought. I’m bleeding and I-

You had just enough of you left of you to feel a gloved hand take the virus sample from you and to hear a few words, spoken in a cold voice.

“Target eliminated, sample in hand.” 

Darkness took you a moment later.

⧫⧫⧫

Leon awoke in the dark, pained but propped against the wall, something warm draped over him. His arm, his shoulder, he could still feel the pain, but bandages kept the blood in place, wrapped around him masterfully and with great care. 

“Ada.”

He hadn’t even felt her dressing his wound, hadn’t felt those hands wrapping him in gauze and then draping her own jacket over his body. He hadn’t seen her leave him there, in pursuit of the woman who did this. 

He had to help her. That was what he resolved once his mind was clear enough to think it. 

Because she’d taken the time to tend to him. This beautiful, mysterious woman who had kept him alive. Ada, for all her withdrawnness, had saved his life. He would save hers now, if he could. 

So he bared his teeth and pushed himself to his feet, groaning in pain as he did. The bullet wound in his shoulder flared as he stood, as he reached for the gun Ada had holstered at his side. He took a steadying breath as he checked his ammo once more, the blade that Marvin had given him, and then he set out into the dark. 

Step by painful step. 

It may be the last thing he ever did, he knew it, but he had to try. 

⧫⧫⧫

You awoke screaming. You thrashed against the floor, something burning and bright pressed against your bleeding belly. The flare was held in shaky, weak hands, a desperate attempt to close bleeding wounds. 

“I know kid, I know I know I know, I’m sorry-”

You clung to Reynold’s hand, squeezing it tight enough you thought you might break his bones as he tried to melt your parted flesh back together. There was no time for anything else. Not when the man who did this had gone. Not when Reynolds too bled from a wound at his side, and one of his eyes had already started to pale. 

“We have . . . to go after him,” Reynolds said, once the flare was set aside. “We have to . . . stop him.” 

Because he’d taken the virus that caused all this. He’d nearly gutted you and shot your Captain. He was no ally, whatever he was, and what few survivors from your base left alive, were with his men now. You knew in your slow-beating heart that their fate would be the same as yours. Unless you did something.

So you bared your teeth and pushed yourself to your feet, a sound escaping you that was more animal than human. The world blurred around you as you stood, as you helped Reynolds to his feet as well. His breath wheezed as you both slung arms around each other, struggling to keep each other up. 

Step by excruciating step.

It would be the last thing either of you would ever do, you knew, but you had to try. 

⧫⧫⧫

“I’m a liability now.” Ada’s declaration was bitter, and it made Leon’s heart sink. The bandages he’d wrapped around her wounded leg were holding, but they didn’t make it easier for her to walk. “If I’m going to finish this case, you’re the last hope I’ve got.” She was asking him to go on without her. To find the sample they needed as evidence of Umbrella’s crimes - he knew she was right. He knew it was their best bet, but still . . .

“I’m not just gonna leave you here.” He couldn’t. “What if you’re attacked, what if you need help-”

She leaned forward and silenced him, looking him in the eye . . . and his heart stammered as her kiss made him feel alive. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. I’ve gotta see this through . . .” a hand on his thigh, “. . . and I want to see you again. I’ve got plenty to live for, trust me.” 

Leon held her gaze, conviction growing alongside something else in his heart. He trusted her. He knew she’d be alright, somehow. Something about the look in her eyes. Or the way her lips had felt against his. Could he manage this? Could he do this by himself?

Yes. He had to. For everyone in Raccoon City, he would. 

“Okay.” He stood, feeling a strength in himself that he’d never needed before. He ignored the pain in his shoulder, the shifting of torn tissue and cracked bone, and he readied himself for what was to come.

“Leon,” Ada said, stopping him for a moment. “I’m counting on you.” 

That fact alone spurred him onward. “I know.”

⧫⧫⧫

“You should . . . you should go.” Reynolds pleaded from his place on the ground, his voice full of pain. The bullet wound in his side seeped blood, just as the poorly cauterized wounds in your belly still did. “Find him. Stop him. I’ll just slow you down.” He was asking you to go on without him. To find the masked man and the sample he’d stolen. But your legs shook beneath you and your vision blurred even now. Even if you could make it on your own . . .

“I’m not . . . just gonna leave you here.” You couldn’t. “Don’t . . . don’t fucking ask me to-”

“Kid,” he stopped and silenced you, looking you in the eye . . . and your heart stopped as you saw a face of death looking back at you. “Go. Forget about me. You’ve . . . you’ve gotta see this through . . .” a weak hand on your shoulder, “. . . you’ve gotta stop him. That’s . . . that’s an order.”

You looked away, because you couldn’t bear that half-dead gaze. Not from him. He was dying. Turning. You could see it. Would you make it further without him? Or would the torn guts in your belly kill you before you even got to the man responsible for all of this? Would you be able to stop him at all? 

No. You wouldn’t. You were both as good as dead. So you would both die together. 

“Fuck that.” you groaned, one hand pressed to your wound as the other hoisted him up, ignoring the shifting of broken bones and organs and the blood that spilled where it shouldn’t. You pulled your Captain to his feet, because neither of you could move without leaning on each other. 

“You’re . . . you’re gonna get yourself killed,” Reynolds protested. 

That fact didn’t matter to you then. “I know.” 

⧫⧫⧫

No terror could prepare Leon for what he faced. A mess of eyes and teeth and claws that towered over him. Even with his heart hammering and his shoulder aching, he knew what it was he was facing. A husband, a father, and a man consumed by his own creation. A man become a monster. 

He’d shattered his own wife’s bones, the way he intended to shatter Leon’s. 

Just more prey to hunt and kill. 

He couldn’t let himself feel that terror. 

All he could feel was determination and focus. He had the sample. He could get it to Ada. Then the FBI could stop this from ever happening again. He clung to the kiss she’d given him.

That only made it sting all the more when the Doctor whispered with labored breath the truth. 

He’d fallen for a lie. 

One that ended with him staring down the barrel of a gun, a beautiful woman on the other end.  

Even with the betrayal, even with the damage this woman could do to the world . . . Leon couldn’t pull the trigger. Neither could Ada. Not when it came down to it. Not even when Leon lowered his weapon, letting himself be all that stood between the woman in front of him and her goal. He would never forget the look in her eyes as she lowered her pistol . . . 

Or the look of surprise as another gunshot rang out, piercing a hole straight through her . . .

Or the way the ground trembled as the Umbrella facility began to self-destruct . . .

Or the feeling of them both falling towards darkness.

⧫⧫⧫

No pain could prepare you for what you faced. A mess of bodies, bloodied and limp lay in the snow, dusted by the dying storm. Even as more blood and pain spilled from your poorly cauterized wounds, you knew what it was you were facing. Your men, your friends, your family . . . their faces weren’t like the others. They weren’t a mess of decomposition and rot, they were whole. 

They’d executed them all, the way he’d tried to execute you. 

Just another loose end to tie up. 

You couldn’t let yourself feel that pain. 

All you could feel was rage and desperation. He had the sample. He’d killed your men. If you could kill him and destroy that sample, somehow, then maybe this would never happen again. You clung to your Captain, your strength, refusing to let him go. 

That only made it sting more when you heard the whirring of helicopter blades. 

You’d all fallen for a lie. 

One that ended with you bleeding and broken, staring up as a helicopter began to take off in the dying storm. 

You fired desperately, you and Reynolds both. It was all shaky aim as the last of the masked men - the one who’d taken the sample and perhaps your life along with it – climbed into the chopper. He was far away, but maybe, just maybe, you could bring him down before he got away. Killing just him might be enough. You would never forget that feeling of desperation . . . 

Or the echo of gunfire as his fellows covered him, your Captain using the last of his strength to shield you . . . 

Or the heat at your back as charges you didn’t know had been placed were detonated . . . 

Or the feeling of falling towards the snow. 

⧫⧫⧫

The platform was holding, barely. Leon could feel the metal creaking beneath him, threatening to give way. He heard the clinking of glass, and watched as the vial, the virus sample that this had all been for, fell. It disappeared into the chasm below, vanishing like some sick joke. 

He’d failed. He’d been a fool and he’d failed . . . but for one fact. 

She was still hanging on. 

He needed her to hang on, because this couldn’t be the end. 

Even if he knew it was.

Ada looked up at him, her wrist caged in his grasp. Her other arm hung limp at her side, painted red with her own blood. 

“Leon-” it sounded more genuine than anything she’d said that night. “Forget it.”

“Shut up - I’ve got you!” he cried, even if there was no point. Still, he tried. He tried, even with his wounded arm, to pull her up. He strained and struggled, but the platform buckled, and they grew ever closer to oblivion. She knew as he did. 

“It’s not worth it.”

“Don’t do this-” his arm shook with the strain of holding her and he hoped beyond all hope - he prayed - that he could pull her up. That he could save this one life, when he had failed everyone else. 

But as Ada looked up at him, a look of acceptance on her face, he knew that he couldn’t. 

“Take care of yourself, Leon.” 

Whatever had kept her holding on, whatever strength he’d had to keep her there, she slipped from his grasp. 

Then she was falling, and Leon screamed as he reached for her in vain. His fingertips met only air as he watched her fall. Falling and falling until she disappeared into the darkness below. Leon could only lay there on his belly, staring at the nothingness that had taken the woman he’d only just met. 

The woman who’d used him. 

The woman he might have loved, if things had been different. 

The woman he couldn’t save. 

⧫⧫⧫

Your base was on fire. You could feel the heat, the lingering flames from the explosions. You heard the slicing of helicopter blades, and watched as the craft took off. The craft and the masked man who’d outplayed you. He and the sample he’d taken disappeared into the dark sky, one final insult to injury. 

You’d failed. You’d been a fool and you’d failed . . . and now all you could do was watch as one last life was taken from you. 

He was still hanging on. 

You needed him to hang on, because this couldn’t be the end.

Even if you knew it was.

Reynolds was doubled over in the snow, his fingers twitching, his breathing ragged. He was shaking, groaning, the ground painted red with his blood. 

“Kid-” it didn’t sound like him. It didn’t sound like your Captain. “K- . . . kill . . .”

“Don’t-” you begged, even though you knew it was futile. Even as you pushed your broken, bleeding body up. The fall or the exertion had reopened your wounds, leaving your own blood spilling down your side again. You held one hand there, shaking. The other . . .

“Kill . . .”

“Simon-” the gun shook in your hand, and you hoped beyond all hope - you prayed - that you might reach him. That you could bring him back to you with his name alone. 

But as Reynolds looked up at you, his lips pulling back in a snarl, you knew that you couldn’t. 

No final words of wisdom. Not this time. 

Whatever he’d been holding onto, whatever part of him was left, it slipped from his grasp. 

Then he was lunging at you, and you screamed as you fired. Your finger squeezed against the trigger over and over again, even as he tackled you to the ground. Over and over until bits of his skull came loose and he slumped on top of you. You could only lie there on your back, staring at the broken face of the man you’d known for years. 

The man who’d guided you. 

The man who, for reasons you’d never fathom, had loved you. 

The man you’d killed. 

⧫⧫⧫

He stumbled to his feet. He didn’t know where he was going, exactly. Only that he’d felt relief when he’d seen Claire’s face on the cameras and heard her voice. “We can make it!” she told him. 

The chance to live. He honestly didn’t know if he should even take it. Was it even worth trying at this point? He didn’t know if he could outrun the destruction of the facility or survive the monsters in his path. But he had to try. For Elliot, Marvin, for Kendo and his daughter . . . for Ada. He had to believe he had enough strength to see this through for them. His eyes narrowed into a hard focus one last time and he made his decision. 

So, with hope lingering on the horizon, he ran.

⧫⧫⧫

You dragged yourself away. You didn’t know where you were going, exactly. Only that you couldn’t look at him. Only that you’d used all the bullets in your gun and his was empty too.

The promise of death. It was looming over you, and you were all too happy to welcome it. A bullet would have been faster - more preferable. Maybe you could make it back towards the fire to burn with the bodies of your brothers in arms. To be with Rain, David, James, Spence, Sasha and all the rest. Your strength wouldn’t allow that, though. All you managed to do with what you had left was roll onto your back once more, eyes glazing over as you beheld the night sky. 

So, knowing your torn belly or the cold would do the work for you, you waited. 

⧫⧫⧫

The sky was painted a triumphant gold. Gold like the hair of the child walking alongside him, and the heart of the woman who’d saved her. Claire had done the impossible - she’d saved a life, brought a little girl through hell itself. Claire, who’d managed to make sure she and Sherry could see another sunrise. 

And Leon had helped to keep them safe, even if only at the very end. He and Claire had faced down Birkin one last time to save the scientists’ daughter from himself. She’d nearly died, nearly been transformed into something else. Something other. 

But here she was, safe with them. 

He had made it. It was done. He’d fought, and somehow, he’d survived it all. Now, as birds sang in the morning sky, he could only take in the fresh air. He’d won . . . but he knew that he’d carry more than just the scar of a bullet wound with him. 

He took some solace in the warmth of the sun. In the promise of a new day.

A small hand fitted against his palm, the girl smiling up at him and Claire, wrapped in a red leather jacket that was too big for her. 

“Long as we stick together,” Leon resolved, “we’ll be fine.” 

Because despite it all, they were alive. 

He was alive. He shouldn’t have been, but he was. 

Alive, but changed, because Leon knew as he, Sherry and Claire walked away from Raccoon City, who he was would be left behind in the ruined streets of Raccoon City. Pieces given to those he couldn’t save, until there was almost nothing left. 

Leon was changed, and Sherry and Claire walked with someone entirely new down that lonely road. 

He knew only one thing with certainty:

The people who did this had to be stopped.

He would make sure of it. 

Whatever it took.

He would stop them. 

⧫⧫⧫

The sky was bleeding a rising red. Bleeding just like you, a halo of crimson building beneath you. You knew it wouldn’t be long, now. You couldn’t move anymore, could barely keep your eyes open to see one last sunrise. 

You’d be with your friends soon enough. Your mentor. Or you’d be gone into nothingness. Whatever waited for you once your heart stopped, you just hoped that your body would remain still in the snow. You hoped that you wouldn’t somehow become something else. Something other. 

You supposed you wouldn’t know. 

All you knew was that you were ready. You wanted it to be done. You’d fought, and you’d lost. Now, as you watched the ravens circling overhead, at least maybe you wouldn’t hurt anymore. At least you wouldn’t have to carry the weight of them all with you.

But then a shadow passed over the sun. One that even your fading mind recognized as a person. 

A scarred hand reached down for your pulse, and a sharp-featured face contorted in concern. A red beret above you that became all you could really focus on. 

A gruff voice broke through the fog. “This one’s still alive!” 

Words that brought no comfort.

You were alive. You shouldn’t have been, but you were. 

Alive but changed, because you knew as you felt arms carefully lift you from the snow, who you had been was being left in the smoldering embers of Dorne Base. Bled dry with the corpses of your second family.

You were changed, and that morning, Major Jack Krauser carried something entirely different away from the wreckage. 

You knew only one thing with certainty:

The people who did this would pay. 

You would see to it. 

Whatever it took. 

You would end them. 

⧫⧫⧫

A small room. Leon and one other man were all that occupied it, empty otherwise but for the choice being offered to him. 

As if “choice” was even the right word. 

Weeks of sleepless nights, of memories, of weighing his gun in his hands . . . and not pulling the trigger for one reason and one reason only.

Sherry. 

The girl he and Claire had saved . . . and the one they threatened now. 

“We have the authority to do as we please with you. You and that girl.” Leon was still healing. Still struggling to understand what he’d seen, to find some semblance of peace or normalcy again. That didn’t matter to them. Only one thing did. “Bottom line is: you have the experience we’re looking for. So, if you want this to end peacefully, you really have only one choice.”

Choice.

He almost laughed.

No . . . no there was no choice at all. Not for him. 

⧫⧫⧫

A small room. You and Krauser were all that occupied it, empty but for the choice being offered to you. 

As if “choice” was even the right word. 

Months of sleepless nights, of memories, of weighing your gun in your hands . . . and not pulling the trigger for one reason and one reason only. 

Revenge. 

The thing you’d dreamed of . . . and the opportunity he offered you now. 

“You don’t have to decide now. Take the time to get yourself into fighting shape again.” You were done healing, though. You were done trying to rationalize what happened, done trying to banish the thoughts of it from your mind. That didn’t matter to you. Only one thing did. “But if you want to take the fight to the bastards who did this, if you want that chance, come find me when you’ve made your choice.” 

Choice. 

You almost laughed. 

No . . . no there was no choice at all. Not for you. 

⧫⧫⧫

You looked at him, and he looked at you. Seeing each other more fully than you ever had, knowing what no one else on this earth knew. 

There, in the infirmary, with the radio playing, you and Leon Kennedy finally knew each other. And all either of you could think to do as you took one another in, all the loss, the scars, all of it, was to reach out. His arms fell around you like they belonged and yours settled around him like home. 

You clung to each other as song after song played, the air heavy with the names of those you couldn’t save. Elliot. Marvin. Robert. Emma. Ada. Rain. Spence. David. James. Sasha. Simon. Countless others. Too many souls. Too much weight to bear alone. 

So, in that moment, you shouldered it together. 

It was why you cared so much for Leon, you realized. Because he was always willing to carry you.

It was why you were terrified for him.

It was why you would raze the world for him. 

It was why you loved him-

You loved him. 

“Huh.” You didn’t mean for it to escape you. 

“What?” he asked, and you had to swallow down too many emotions at once. 

Luckily, as Leon pulled away from you, there was a good excuse playing you could use as cover. “Nothing, just . . . haven’t heard this song in a while.” That much was true. 

“What has happened to it all?”

“Crazy, some'd say . . .”

Leon looked at you like he didn’t quite believe you, but whatever his suspicions, he took a moment to listen to the song too. “It’s no Spice Girls,” he said, when he finally turned back to give you a gentle smile. 

“Where is the life that I recognize?”

“Gone away.” 

You laughed just as softly, studying his face. His eyes, the light shade of their blue, the sharpened cut of his cheekbones, the little mole next to his nose and the ones on his neck . . . taking in every detail because you knew better than anyone you might not get a better chance. “No . . .” you agreed, deciding to give him another piece of you, “it’s better, actually. One of my favorites.”

One you’d listened to with a kind, wise-eyed Captain a few times in another life. 

“But I won't cry for yesterday”

“There's an ordinary world”

“Somehow I have to find . . .”

Leon’s smile widened as he listened, and he nodded his approval. “It’s a good one.”

“And as I try to make my way”

“To the ordinary world”

“I will learn to survive.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, feeling somehow heavy and weightless at the same time. You would never be free of what happened . . . but for today, for this moment, you weren’t alone. “It is.” 

Chapter Text

He finished the letter just before lights out. You helped, even if you insisted that it hadn’t been much. 

It helps to have someone listen to it, Leon had insisted, reading you the words he’d written and rewritten until at last he was satisfied. You’d done your best to point out what you thought Reed and Hellman would want more vague explanations about, suggesting how to phrase some things. Otherwise, your supportive expression and quiet nods were enough. 

The letter, though . . . that would never be enough. It would never convey all that Leon wished to say, or all of his regrets. It would never right the wrongs that began that night in Raccoon City. 

It was a start, though. 

Sherry,

I will never be able to apologize enough for not writing back to you sooner. I’m sorry, I promise if I could have, I would have. 

I am okay. I can’t tell you everything, but just know that I’m okay, and I’m so glad to hear that you are too! I’m so glad that you’re feeling better! Told you that you would! You’re a regular Supergirl! I know it’s frustrating, not being able to go back to school. Just keep studying. It’ll be easier when they let you go back that way! I know I probably sound like a boring old fart, but it’s true! 

And hey, tell you what? I don’t want you missing out on all the fun. Go ahead and watch Star Wars without me! You can write back to me and tell me all about what you thought, if you want! In fact, that’s my mission for you! Watch as many movies as you can! Read as many books, and just have as much fun as you can! I want to hear all about it! 

I wish I could tell you what I’ve been doing these past few months or tell you about the people I’ve met. I wish I could have written to you sooner. I wish a lot of things.  Just know that I’m going to be trying to keep people safe, just like Claire did for you. And know that I didn’t forget you. Never could. I don’t know when I’ll be able to visit you. Someday soon, I hope. Until then, please keep writing to me. I’ll write you back every time, I promise!

Don’t get into too much trouble, okay? 

But even if you do, I know you’re smart enough to get out of it. Just stay safe, okay? Talk to you more soon, hopefully! 

I miss you too.

- Leon

It wasn’t perfect, but you nodded your approval as he finished reading it aloud all the same. “I think that’s good.” 

“Not too much?” Leon asked, eyes betraying his worry. 

“I’m not exactly an expert on writing letters.” 

Leon could sympathize. “Neither am I. Obviously.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d written home because . . . well, there was really no home to write to. He’d wondered if that was the same for you, but there had been enough painful memories resurrected that day. He wouldn’t ask. Maybe you’d tell him eventually, but the two of you had given the fallen their due deference. It was their day, after all, but now, Leon wanted to think of the living. 

He wanted to think of just how lucky the two of you were to have survived all that you did, because he’d come so close to never knowing you at all. He’d nearly lived in a world without you - something that in just a few months had become unthinkable to him. 

The thought of leaving you in a few weeks was painful enough in his heart. When this had all begun, he’d never entertained the possibility that he’d finish his training before you. You’d been here longer. Trained harder. You were the best and then . . . well, you both knew how easily disaster could befall you and change everything, didn’t you? He didn’t want to leave you behind. Not now. Not after all that the two of you had shared, and all that he wanted to share with you still. But he couldn’t heal the broken bones in your side any faster. All he could do was try and remind you that he was out there. That he would think of you every day. 

“I can write to you,” he offered. “When I . . .” he didn’t even want to say it, just as you didn’t want to think about it. Leon saw your expression fall, something in your eyes going a little distant. You were worried. He could see it. He would be worried too, he supposed. But maybe if he wrote to you . . . 

You didn’t say anything, at first, just listening to the ever-playing radio. 

“I mean, if you want-”

You didn’t give Leon’s doubt time to grow, and he was grateful for that. “I do.” Your answer was simple and straightforward, as it always was. 

And as always, it made Leon smile. “I will, then.” 

“You’d better.” There was something in your voice. Strained. Brittle. Ready to break. Your voice had sounded like that throughout your entire tale of what happened that night in Finland. Then, as now, you hadn’t been able to look Leon in the eye as you spoke. 

So, he reached for your hand, his brow furrowing as the skin to skin contact made your nostrils flare and your lips purse. Like you were resetting the mask you wore. If that was what you needed right now, even if it hurt to see, Leon understood. That still didn’t stop him from holding your hand, even if for just a few moments of silence. 

Moments that ended when you spoke, your voice soft. “And you’d better be careful, too,” you finally said, and the desperation of your words . . . it gave Leon pause because he’d never heard you like that before. 

He knew exactly why you were making that demand of him now, too. He knew it was because the memories of those you’d lost weighed on you still, because you cared for him. 

Because you didn’t want his to be a story you told and mourned in a year. 

“I will be,” he agreed, but when you finally turned to him, he knew that his words weren’t enough. 

“You have to be-”

Your name slipped from his lips, and he leaned in, his free hand finding your cheek. Making you look into his eyes fully so you would know the sincerity of his promise. “I will be.” Because he wouldn’t leave you alone. He would come back to you, he could feel it in his bones. Whatever other fears he held, he couldn’t let you be another unwalked path, another what if in his life. Another joy taken from him. You wouldn’t lose each other, he would make sure of it. 

You would be different. 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy,” he told you, and he could see you fight tooth and nail for even the tiniest of smiles to form. And when he still saw doubt in your eyes, he leaned in further. You always were someone who preferred action to words, anyway. 

The kiss didn’t last as long as he’d like, but it, like his letter, was a start. A promise. 

You searched his eyes when you separated, and Leon felt such a beautiful pain in looking at you, because he knew now what you’d been through. He knew what you’d lost, he knew what you feared to lose. And he knew exactly why you asked your next question. 

“How can you believe that so easily?” 

Honestly, Leon didn’t know. He had expected only death and pain in his future when he’d been forced to join STRATCOM. He went to sleep every night fearing that he’d relive Raccoon City, and now he was a few weeks away from facing it down in his waking hours too. He had prepared himself for that. What he hadn’t prepared for was you. Your presence and the friendships he’d forged despite the odds . . . if he could find something good in this hell, then maybe not everything was lost. “Not saying it’s easy to believe,” he grinned, “but I do anyway.” 

You scoffed a laugh at that, shaking your head but not moving away. “I hope you’re right, then.” 

“So do I.” He had to be. 

Because the world owed you both that much. It owed you the chance to heal, even if only a little. It may not give you much of one, but . . . well, if it was a lifetime of dressing each other’s wounds, of putting each other back together . . . then maybe he could find it in him to face what was to come. 

Maybe he could have hope again. 

⧫⧫⧫

“You’re looking better.” 

You tried not to frown at the words, because, encouraging as they were, “better” wasn’t healed. It didn’t mean you were back in fighting shape. You still had several weeks before that was the case. Still, after the weeks of rest you’d already endured, it at least was starting to hurt less to breathe. That was something. Seeing the x-rays of your slowly healing ribs was something of a comfort too. To you, to Doc, and to Krauser, who stood with his arms crossed, leaning against a wall on the far side of the room. 

“Should be on track if you keep the rest up like you have been,” Doc told you, though you knew the report was for the Major as well. 

Krauser had been . . . well, he’d been quiet these last few weeks. Since Memorial Day, really. You’d seen him mostly at night when the two of you set up for the next morning’s lessons, but even then, there hadn’t been many words exchanged between the two of you. A few months ago, that wouldn’t have bothered you. Now, though . . . well, things were changing, weren’t they? 

“I’d still give it a while,” the Doc went on, “but you should be okay to move a bit more in two weeks, give or take.” Two weeks and then you could start training again fully. That meant four before Leon’s graduation . . . 

“Good,” Krauser cut in, his voice curt as it had been the few times he’d really spoken to you these last few days. “Then I want you with the new recruits in melee drills. No fighting, but you’re going to be giving notes. Watching their technique.” 

Your brows furrowed as you looked towards the Major, and you were hit with a feeling of deja vu. And a feeling of confusion, because when Krauser had pulled you in to spar with Leon’s old squad, he’d done it to get you more practice. Watching people fight wasn’t useless in developing skills, you knew, but so much of the extra help you’d given Leon had been because you could physically cross blades with him - him and the rest. If you couldn’t actually fight, though . . . “Not sure how much help I’ll be to you if I can’t demonstrate.” 

“Not me you’re going to be helping,” Krauser corrected, somehow sounding more displeased than he already had been recently. “Reed and the other instructors are taking over their combat drills for the time being.” 

And just like that, you were pissed off too. 

“What?” Your voice took on a tone of incredulity, your focus completely turning away from the Doc because the sheer notion of Krauser not being the main instructor-

The Major’s frown didn’t lessen, but he shook his head and clarified all the same. “Just for the new blood. Hellman and I have things to set up, so we needed to reallocate responsibilities.” He pursed his lips together, then his chest rose as he took a breath. “I need someone watching to make sure he’s not teaching them bullshit.” 

Because he didn’t trust Reed. 

You couldn’t blame Krauser for that. You sure as hell didn’t trust the agent either. You wouldn’t even agree to help that bastard in any way if it weren’t Krauser asking - if you didn’t know that he had his reasons. As it was, however quiet the Major had been with you these last few days, this set your mind at ease because if he didn’t trust Reed, this request proved that he did trust you. So, there was only one answer you could give. “I’ll do what I can.” 

Krauser nodded, his expression that had been so stormy as of late calming just a touch. A moment, that’s all it was, and then the Major pushed off from the wall, his expression resetting once more. “Good,” he said simply, and was about to show himself out when the door opened in front of him. 

Someone you didn’t know stepped in - a man about your age, his face drawn in an expression of pain and one hand wrapped around his wrist. One of the more recent recruits, you realized. His eyes widened though, as soon as he caught sight of Krauser standing in front of him. “Major! Sir! Sorry. I was told to have the Doc look at-” 

“Then what are you wasting time talking to me for?” Krauser deadpanned before stepping aside, making way for the young soldier to scurry past. 

He’d taken a bad fall from the obstacle course, he explained. It didn’t take long for the Doc to have a rudimentary diagnosis. “Probably a sprain,” he informed the soldier, then looked your way, finding you ready and waiting. “You know what to do?” 

“Ice it and wrap it,” you answered, already moving towards the door. 

Once there, Krauser stopped you with a raise of his pale brow. “Been playing medic, too?” He said it like he almost couldn’t believe it of you. A few months ago, you wouldn’t have, either. 

“You told me to make myself useful,” you shrugged, glad that you could pull off that small movement without being in agony, now. 

By the smile Krauser gave you, you could tell that he was glad too. “Well then get to it.” 

You surprised yourself by giving him a smile back. “Yes, sir.” 

He was gone by the time you returned, allowing you and the Doc to wrap the recruit’s wrist in peace. Your work was observed and approved of with a nod . . . and a surprise when evening fell. 

You’d never thought that half of a homemade sandwich would look so good. 

The Doc looked more than a little amused as he handed it to you, no doubt because of the surprise on your face. “Fair payment for fair work,” he told you. “But not a word of this to anyone. Can’t have people thinking I’m running a deli out of the med bay.” 

You nodded, taking the first homemade meal you’d had in . . . well, maybe in years, with an eagerness you hadn’t expected. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Doc.” 

You already had your fair share of secrets to keep, after all. What was one more? 

Chapter Text

The first weeks of training had been exhausting. Hours and hours spent contending with Major Krauser’s demands, and a still-healing shoulder and the struggle to find the will to go on. The motivation to fight, to push himself up and keep going. Each day a challenge, every minute an eternity. Months had passed and the pains hadn’t changed, not really. It was still just as brutal - more so, maybe. Now, though, Leon felt like that time was slipping through his fingers too fast.

They were in the final hurdles now; he and what remained of the squad. Each day there was more and more pressure put on him and the rest. He took comfort where he could find it. 

One of the biggest comforts had come a week after Memorial Day; an already-opened envelope delivered by Reed. Not even the agent’s scowl could take away from the joy in Leon’s heart as he read the looping handwriting.

Leon! Hi! 

Sherry’s response was too-long and Leon wanted to believe that the numerous spelling mistakes and messy, almost rushed handwriting meant that she’d written it in a state of excitement. She went on and on about everything and nothing, telling Leon about what she was studying for when she could go back to school, about how she was trying to convince her caretaker to get the Star Wars movies for her - did Leon know that a new one came out last month?? - and how she was so, so excited to get Leon’s letter back. His worries had been assuaged when he read those words, his guilt lessening. 

I was so worried! I’m glad you’re OK!

It’s OK you can’t say everything. There’s stuff I’m not supposed to tell you, either. But that’s OK! 

I hope I can see you soon!

No accusations, no anger. That had done more for Leon than he could fathom, and he’d written back immediately. Another letter proof-read by you, and then handed off to the CIA agents for final approval. Now he waited on a response, feeling more certain that he was going to get one this time.

He found other, smaller comfort in the little, exhausted smiles he would exchange with Alenko or Williams, or any of his fellows. 

“Shouldn’t have tortured us when they did,” Alejandro joked one day, as the squad returned from a ruck that would have left them boneless and breathless not so long ago. Now, though, their pain had hardened them. “Makes the rest of this a cakewalk.” 

He spoke it just a little too loud. It might have been alright, were it not for the escort back to base that they’d picked up. Major Krauser had been a bit more absent as of late, with most of his time spent with Hellman somewhere Leon wasn’t sure of. Setting up for the final test, he told them. Whatever today’s preparations were, it seems the Major and agent were done early, and had been able to accompany the men back. That said, Alejandro’s remark was received, and the Major didn’t even look over his shoulder as he shot back a counter. “Keep talking, Garza. You can go do it again if you’re such a hard ass.” 

There was no fear in Alejandro’s eyes like there once had been when the Major spoke, just a crooked smile and respect in the form of no further remarks. 

A respect that, surprisingly, the Major had extended Leon’s way as well. At least as far as you were concerned. When Leon sparred with Krauser, the few times he’d been able to since Memorial Day, there had been no more jabs at the affair. No more pointed remarks at your or Leon’s expense. Just pointed steel that Leon was able to keep from striking him. For the most part. 

One less worry was a blessing, as far as he was concerned. 

And for all the looming worries of what horrors awaited him and the others, there were a few present worries that seemed to be lessening. Like the worry that your ribs, now twice damaged, would remain unhealed. That particular worry had been in your mind as well as Leon’s, he knew, but as he and the others returned from that ruck, he was all too happy to glimpse you in the yard, standing with your arms crossed over your chest, nodding as a pair of recruits crossed blades in front of you. 

Leon smiled to himself as he saw you stop them with a few words he was too far away to hear. Then you stepped forward, taking a practice knife from one of the recruits and taking their place. You moved slowly, demonstrating something the way you often had for him, and he couldn’t help the relief he felt as no sign of pain crossed your face, even as you used your full range of motion. You weren’t back to one-hundred percent yet, he knew that, but even seeing you making little progress was enough to raise his spirits every time. 

A little jab of his own ribs pulled his focus away from you, and Valeria was there, silently reminding him not to betray anything, if he could help it. 

“¡Oye! No mires fijamente-” she murmured to him, and Leon straightened his face and focused as best he could. 

His Spanish was nowhere near as good as hers, but he was learning as best he could. “Yo no-” Leon didn’t even get to finish the sentence before Valeria shot him a look. Ah, well, she would know best. After all, Dina did her own fair share of staring, something that Leon and Valeria had both been on the lookout for in an effort to curb it. They couldn’t afford any slip-ups. Not with the two CIA agents watching . . . 

One of whom Leon couldn’t help but turn his attention towards. If looking at you was a balm to his nerves, looking at Reed might as well have been poison oak to him. 

When you’d told Leon and the others that you’d be assisting Reed, you’d not been happy. Williams had pointed out that, once you were healed, maybe it would be an opportunity to land a few blows on the agent yourself. “Just for the sake of demonstration,” she’d offered with a scheming smile. 

You, ever the realist, had dismissed the idea, but Leon saw how your eyes had sparked just a touch. 

Regardless of whether you wanted to work alongside the agent, it was good to see you back in your element, even if only dipping your toes in. Leon had never thought he’d enjoy seeing anyone fight, but he couldn’t deny that he longed to see you back, to see steel in your hands again and to dance with you to the singing of that steel. 

That was what he thought of that night as he made his way to the training yard with the others, wishing that you would be there, that you could prepare with the rest . . . 

And even if Valeria would give him shit for it, he couldn’t contain his smile when he saw you already waiting for the group there, spinning a knife in your hand. It warmed Leon’s heart, though, when he wasn’t the only one smiling at your presence. 

“Sarge!” Williams beamed, raising her hand towards you as she approached, and you clasped it with a poorly hidden smile. “Thought you weren’t good for another week still?” 

“I’m not,” you confirmed, “but Doc said I could do some things, long as they’re not too demanding.” You held up one of your weapons, gripping it carefully by the blade. A different design than what he’d grown used to using himself, one without a grip on the handle. Throwing knives. You spun it back down, and Leon was all too happy to see your dexterity for that, at least, had survived your time recovering. “And besides, Alenko said you all might need an outside eye to watch your sparring.”

And on hearing that, Leon looked over at the older soldier with a grateful smile. Alenko didn’t know about your affair with Leon - or, at least, Leon hoped another person hadn’t found out about that secret - but he still extended the offer to you. He still wanted you around, if for no other reason than you were a part of the squad, even if you wouldn’t be graduating with the rest. 

Leon would have to find some way to thank him subtly for that, but for that night, the group just fell into an easy rhythm, Leon against Alenko, Valeria against Williams. Krauser’s music played in the background, and for a while, Leon let the familiarity warm his heart. He never thought he’d long for any of his days training with STRATCOM, but now, he could at least appreciate those memories of stolen happiness, with you and with the others. 

“Go for the neck and head more, Alenko. BOW’s don’t do well with damage to their brains,” you observed, your correction given just before you took aim and threw at the target you had set up. Leon couldn’t see if you hit or not, focused on his opponent as he was, but by the little curse you muttered beneath your breath, he guessed probably not. 

Alenko, meanwhile, just smiled, circling Leon after a failed attack. “We still doing last names? Come on, think we’re past that formality.” 

Leon saw you frown out of the corner of his eye. “Focus on the fight, not what I’m calling you.” 

Your advice was well-founded, because Leon, in a few moves, managed to end up pinning Alenko to the ground, with all the skill Krauser had taught him, and all the efficiency you’d refined in him. As Leon rose off of the other soldier, giving him a hand up, he couldn’t help but look your way, not missing the pride that crossed your face. “Good,” you said, though you were right back to business a moment later. “Use your left hand more, though.” 

Always room to improve. Leon knew you meant well, so he nodded. 

“Thanks, Krauser,” Valeria scoffed, and even Leon chuckled at that not-insult. “Hey, as the favorite, got any insight for that big test they’re setting up for us? Or does the Major only tell you where the morning tripwires are supposed to go?" The favorite. Leon didn’t know why that observation made him bristle a little, but it did. 

“Even if I did know,” you answered Valeria easily and honestly, “I wouldn’t tell you.” 

“Oh, so there are some things Krauser keeps secret from you.” 

“Telling us would defeat the purpose of the test,” Leon said, repeating the words you’d spoken to him all those months ago. Months that seemed like a lifetime. 

Valeria didn’t take kindly to his use of your mindset, rolling her eyes with a little smile. "Dicks."

You didn’t miss a beat. "Bitch."

“They’ve been going out into the woods for it though, right?” Williams asked, swinging at Valeria while she was distracted, catching the shorter woman in the side with her blade. There was an exchange of pointed looks that turned a touch playful between the women, and Leon smiled at it as you answered the question. 

“Off-base, yeah.” 

Williams nodded, her own smile growing, dark eyes lighting up. “Then I think I might have an idea. Little brother enlisted in the Marines the year before last, he told me about their final test. Big, multi-day thing they started doing a few years ago. You get sent out with rations and they do a bunch of simulated battles and obstacle courses, stuff like that.” 

Alenko hummed at Leon’s side. “Doesn’t sound too bad.” 

“Sure,” Leon agreed, “but it’s Krauser. He’ll make it tough.” 

“Plus there’s Hellman out there with him,” Valeria agreed. “Probably gonna make it a pain in the ass for us.” 

“They should,” you declared. “You need to be ready for anything.” Because anything could happen at any time. You knew that better than most - but Valeria didn’t have the benefit of knowing the horrors you’d seen. All that you’d told Leon, you’d kept close to your chest otherwise, so it was hardly surprising when the woman frowned at your defense of the instructors. 

“You’re a kiss-ass sometimes. A lot of the time.” 

You just raised a brow and threw another knife, not even looking back at Valeria as you spoke your advice for her. “And you go for the head too much. Makes you predictable.” 

Valeria used her free hand to flip you a middle finger, even if your back was turned so you couldn’t see it. 

“Zombies don’t seem smart enough to recognize patterns,” Williams defended, trying to give Valeria the benefit of the doubt. 

Your answer was sobering, for Leon and for the others. “Umbrella has their own soldiers,” you reminded them, and Leon knew by the tone of your voice what you were thinking of now; the man in the gas mask. The one who had nearly killed you. The one that the thought of made Leon’s blood run cold. “They’re smart enough to.” 

The tall woman frowned, nodding. “Right. Soldiers and monsters that can kill us with a scratch.” Because that was all it took. Leon had told them, and Reed and Hellman had confirmed it in their own lessons. Bites and scratches, whatever it took for the virus to get into the body, and then . . . well, not death, but something worse, as far as Leon was concerned. “Fucking . . . lucky us.” 

“Nice of those bastards to make monsters like that and no cure,” Alenko grumbled, and Leon tensed a bit. Because . . . well, it wasn’t entirely true. Sherry had been cured - of the G-Virus, at the very least. Still, she and that cure had been notably left out of lectures given by Reed and Hellman. Sherry’s absence in said talks, he was glad of. The cure, though? That had always rubbed him the wrong way. Still, he hadn’t spoken of it to anyone but you. 

There was a moment of deliberation, but then . . . “They did,” Leon admitted, his voice soft, just in case unwanted ears were about. “They did make a cure. For the G-Virus, at least.”

And then, you spoke, and even Leon froze. “The T-Virus, too.”

Silence struck hard and fast, wielded by the deft hand of utter surprise. When it was broken at last, it was Williams who asked the question that all three who didn’t know had to be thinking. 

“What the hell do you mean?”

You looked at Leon before answering, a silent invitation to tell or not tell his part of the tale. To spill secrets that Leon knew damn well were meant to stay hidden. He'd promised once - both of you had - that if information was withheld from your fellow recruits, then you would both risk it to tell them. Now, after the stories you'd shared, after you both knew how your lives had been forever changed without any kind of warning . . . Leon thought it only right to give his friends as much knowledge as he could. "There was a girl," he said, "that was infected with the G-Virus and cured. I helped get her out of the city that night. But . . . there was no other that I knew of. The only vial of it that I knew of was the one used to save her."

And so he looked to you, now feeling desperate for answers that he hadn't known were out there. You must have seen that in his expression, because your eyes softened as you nodded, completing the story he hadn't known he possessed only pieces of. 

“There was a cure, in Raccoon City,” you began, your voice low so no one could hear but the four in front of you. “Someone called from inside the city, the night before they dropped the bomb. They said there was a cure, but top brass wasn't willing to gamble. They said they had a certain amount of time to get the cure out of the city. They didn't make it in time.” You tapped your finger against the metal of the knife in your hand, something darker washing over your features. 

More silence, and this time Leon’s own shock was added to the mix because he didn’t know. He hadn’t known that someone had tried to get the cure - that there had even been a cure beyond the one Claire found for Sherry. He’d spent the entire night looking for the virus sample itself, but there had been a cure . . .

“How do you know that?” Alenko asked, but Leon already knew. You had his report, the transcript of his interrogation. The other stack of papers you had, all given to you by Krauser. 

Just how many secrets had the Major given you?

“Tomorrow,” you said, resolved. “I can show you.” 

You and Leon both - you would arm your comrades with more than just blades and bullets, but knowledge as well. 

Chapter Text

They read the reports in silence, their own letters at their sides - easy cover, should someone step into your little room in the infirmary. You acted as something of a lookout, your fingers twisting pins into lock after lock, all while you kept an eye out for them. That was your ritual over the next few days, whenever your little group met to study. It had taken weeks for you to get through all of the reports Krauser had given you, all of the secrets, but you would give your squad mates what you could. More importantly, you would give Leon what you could. 

You would look over at him and the others, seeing horror or confusion or rage crossing their faces with each line they read, every word they processed. You watched them doing what you’d done; putting together the picture of all that had transpired. Even if you didn’t give them the report of what happened to you, or what happened to Leon, you knew that the timeline was becoming clearer to them all the same. 

“So, let me get this straight,” Alenko’s French was almost flawless - a skill he’d learned far before STRATCOM. It made him difficult to understand when he spoke with fluent speed, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it? To be able to understand? Besides, even if some of his words were lost in his quick speech, his disbelief was easy to understand. Besides, speaking in a mix of different languages they were teaching meant a slightly lower chance of someone walking by and learning what you were all talking about. Training through treason. If they wanted you to trade in secrets, then you would. “They knew about all of this for months? We lost a base, and they still wanted these weapons?” 

You gave him a simple answer in Mandarin. “Yes.”

Leon carried on the sentence, albeit in a flawed Russian. “And Umbrella learned about it. They killed Birkin after.” 

Valeria piped in, shaking her head and answering in perfect Spanish. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Williams cut her off, giving her a look that was a little too familiar. “Hey, it’s not practice if you’re fully fluent in it.” 

A pointed look heralded a sharp response - though even you could see the affection in Valeria’s expression. “If Alenko gets to do French, I get to do Spanish. Besides, it’s practice for you. Lord knows you and the pretty boy can use all the help you can get.” 

“I’m not that bad,” Leon defended, and even you frowned a little at his pronunciation, even if the words were right. 

Valeria beat you to voicing the brutal truth of it. “Your accent is shit. But good try, blanquito. You’re getting there.” 

Leon pursed his lips but took the criticism just as Alenko spoke again. “Are we going to brush over the fact that our government was willing to make a deal with a man who killed thousands? Even if indirectly? That we could have a cure if they’d just waited a little bit longer?” 

“We’re not ignoring it,” Williams answered in Spanish, her accent a little better than Leon’s though she took longer to think of the words. “But we can’t do anything about it. Unless those papers gave a name . . .” she switched back to English after a moment, not sure how to say what she wanted to say otherwise, “then we can go fuck someone up.” 

“But speaking of names,” Alenko shook his head. “This scientist - Birkin - he knew a lot about US internal affairs.”

“Umbrella soldiers were at Dorne Base,” you reminded him. “They told their . . .” you struggled to think of the right word in Mandarin - something you were thankful for, giving you something to think about other than the soldiers in question. In the end, you couldn’t think of the word you needed and resorted to English. “Higher-ups.” 

“Sure,” Alenko nodded, “but then . . . how did Umbrella find out? Who ratted him out about the deal with the CIA?”  

You frowned, because you’d thought of the same thing on many nights as you poured over the reports Krauser had given you. 

Leon weighed in again, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know.” He’d been the one to see the emails damning Birkin - but he’d told you they were from someone else in Umbrella sending his own correspondence back to him. No hint as to who it was that he was talking to, or if the tip had come from within Umbrella. 

You hoped it had, because the alternative . . . 

“And nowhere in these reports does it say who he was in contact with in the US government?” Alenko asked again, holding up one of the papers you’d given him. 

Your frown only deepened, then, and you shook your head. “No name.” Or, at least, not one that you could read beneath the black ink. No name for you to hate for making a deal with the devil, no name to loathe for dragging Leon by the throat into something he should have been kept safe from, or destroying Raccoon City and the cure it housed. 

And that presented a problem, because the only thing left to hate was the government behind it all. The one you’d sworn your life to. The one that had been your life and livelihood for years. The one that had offered you the chance to avenge those you loved. 

That was why you sat here, spreading the truth of their actions to those who deserved to know. You’d told Leon that you’d been a bit of a handful, once. That you had a disregard for authority or rules. Stealing the radio from Commander Cortez had proved that part of you to still be alive, but this? This was something else. A side of you that you weren’t used to . . . 

Well, you couldn’t exactly say that either, could you? Not when you’d been breaking regulations for months just to steal a few moments of peace with the man at your side. 

A man you wanted to give every advantage, even if it meant reinforcing what he already knew of the people pulling his strings. 

A man who, like you, was full of righteous anger at the people in power - for all that had happened because of them. “It’s not right, what they did,” he said, his gaze downcast but steady. Resolute. “But we can stop Umbrella.” He spoke the rest in English, his voice so steady and sure you could hardly believe it was the same boyish recruit you’d knocked to the dirt all those months ago. “That’s what matters.” 

Williams, Alenko, hell even Valeria all nodded. All set on a warpath you were barred from . . . but one you would be allowed to claw your way back to, in just a few days. Your ribs healed for a second time, your muscles aching to get back in the fight . . . 

And Williams spoke your next thought aloud. “Just have to make it through this place, first.” 

And you . . . you had farther to go than most, now. As the lock in your hands clicked open, regardless of what questions Alenko had posed, your thoughts were on that training and that training only. 

⧫⧫⧫

The mid-June sun was unrelenting, and so were you. 

The minute Doc had cleared you for full training again, you’d thrown yourself back in, full force. An attack dog given the signal, you sank your teeth into the training you’d been barred from for so long. And you did so viciously. 

You were sloppy. That was what you noticed in yourself, what you lingered on as you sparred with the lower-level recruits. Every error, every misstep, every mistake that could mean death in the field - you cataloged all of it. Filed it away, demanding that you do better. You were a harsh teacher and always had been, but you were harshest on yourself. Had to be.

The recruits you were helping to instruct ended up getting harsher instruction as a result, and you regretted that in part. You knew that your frustrations with yourself were coming out and biting into them instead, but you couldn’t help it. Not when you demanded nothing less than perfection in yourself, and when the man who was actually supposed to be teaching these men and women didn’t seem to be bothered. 

Reed would give notes, sure, but for the most part he just let the recruits fight, his focus on them but his thoughts unspoken and unknown. You’d watched him for two weeks now, not giving notes when he should. Keeping silent while you handled the squad.

Before now, it would have been alright. You’d had the ability to watch everyone, but now you needed to focus on yourself. So, three days into your return to training, you finally had enough. 

“You’re an instructor while you’re here, aren’t you?” You said, your temper getting the better of you as you looked over at an impassive Reed. “Some instruction for them would be good.” 

The agent’s head turned towards you, all too slow, his face just as impassive as ever but for a flicker of annoyance. 

“You want instruction?” He raised a brow and stepped forward, holding his left hand out towards another recruit. The young soldier looked between the hand and him before hesitantly placing the knife on Reed’s outstretched palm. “Let’s give them a demonstration.” 

With that, Reed took up a position against you, and your brow furrowed. 

You hadn’t seen him fight yet. It occurred to you then - he’d demonstrated moves on occasion, but you’d never actually seen him cross blades with someone. 

Size him up. What are his strengths?

Tall, lean, precise with his movements out of combat . . . and strong. Strong enough to break your bones. To knock you out of training for six weeks-

Stop it.  

You forced yourself to focus again, lifting your own practice knife and-

He gave you no more time to prepare. 

Reed advanced, his knife reaching for your right side and, with a sharp exhale and a stab of instinct, you blocked. Your body jolted with the action, combat an old friend that you weren’t sure how to greet any more. Your eyes widened as the agent moved, not letting you hold the defense for more than half a second before he was moving again, lighting fast. Low leg, right side. You blocked again, nearly too late, feeling the knife brush the fabric of your fatigues. 

Then, as he moved, you realized how Leon must have felt that first day against you, as your brain and body went into overdrive. You blocked another strike almost too slow, this one a stab as he switched his knife to his right hand, thrusting it at your chest.

How was he so fast? 

Or were you just slow? 

Had those six weeks really weakened you that much?

Control the blade-

Smaller arm movements-

Use more than your knife-

You reached across your body to block, so that hopefully you could free your right hand to strike at him. In doing so, you realized your mistake too late. 

His knee moved up, his body close to yours, and you only just moved in time to avoid the worst of it. Still, his knee connected with your left side. With your newly healed bones. You suppressed the yelp in your throat, eyes bulging in fear as you felt the pain and alarms rang out in your mind because no, God, no, please don’t be-

Your retaliation was instinct more than anything else. A thrust forward with your knife as you sucked in a breath, anger and terror making you lash out clumsily. Reed moved - still so fast - and blocked with his free left hand. 

His knife hooked at the back of your neck, and with his leg braced in front of one of yours, he leveraged you forward. You grasped at him, nearly taking him down with you, but it wouldn’t matter in a fight. Your spine would have been severed, or at the very least you would have been thrown onto your stomach as you were now, dry dust kicking up around you as you landed. 

And there, on the ground, you felt nothing but rage. 

You reached for your ribs, gingerly checking for any lingering pain, huffing furious breaths. Not broken. You could tell that, at least. Though not for lack of trying. You wanted to scream and curse as you pushed yourself part way up. Part way, before Reed’s words made you look over your shoulder at him. 

“A demonstration for you all,” the CIA agent said, his words callous as ever. “Exploit an opponent’s injury, if they have one.” He spared you a glance, but no offer of help up before he stepped away, tossing his knife back to the recruit he’d taken it from. “Back to it.”

You seethed there on the ground, your grip tightening on your knife. 

Stupid. Useless. Fucking pathetic-

“Here, Sarge,” a hand came into view, and you looked up, seeing one of the recruits you’d been working with offering it to you. Offering you a hand you felt you didn’t deserve. He was your age. Not bright-eyed as Leon had been, but with a smile of someone who knew the struggle. Someone who’d been through boot camp and gotten their ass kicked, same as you. 

It wasn’t comforting to you, though, because he didn’t know yet what awaited him. You did. And, even as you took the hand up, you knew that you were far from ready. 

That needed to change. 

⧫⧫⧫

Leon had been hesitant when you first brought up the idea - not because he didn’t want to spend time with you, but because of the other company the two of you would be keeping. 

But then, if Leon was hesitant, Krauser was even more so. 

Leon supposed he couldn’t blame the Major, entirely. It was, well, damned awkward as the three of you met in the training yard one evening - the night when Leon would have sparred with just Krauser alone. Even if Krauser had given Leon a rest with the insults about you, seeing the stone-faced man there that night made Leon on edge, at first. It was a smart move, having someone else there, both to keep suspicions off of you and to have a more experienced pair of eyes observing, but that didn’t make Leon any more thrilled with the idea. He could see the harsh line of the Major’s brow, the way he looked between the two of you with something like disdain . . . 

But in the end, he, you and Leon all found focus elsewhere. 

Namely, in the way you were moving. 

Leon had been able to win against you often enough before Fort Benning. He was still nowhere near as quick as you’d been, but his skill had been improving with each fight. He was almost a match for you, then. Now . . . Leon found no sense of victory each time he slipped his knife past your guard, or when he managed to twist your wrist and disarm you with a move that you’d so often used on him. With each loss, he could see despair growing in your eyes and it led him to moving a little slower. Leaving openings for you to attack, blocking just a second too slow . . . 

It made him smile when you took advantage of the little accommodations, even if each of them made your brows pinch closer together. 

“Stop holding back,” you hissed a plea after you stabbed at his side and landed - a move he, admittedly, could have blocked. You retreated from him, taking steadying breaths to calm your frustrations. 

“You heard the Sergeant,” Krauser nodded off to the side, thick arms crossed over his chest and his expression dour. Normally, there would have been an insult to follow up the order, but this time, Krauser just turned to you, his voice detached. “And you - what am I going to say?” 

He didn’t have to wait long before you gave him the answer he sought, offered with a tight jaw. “Go with your gut, don’t think.” The words Leon had heard on his first day, all those months ago. 

Words that you yourself had spoken to him in some way or another to Leon on so many occasions. 

Words that you struggled to recall, it seemed, as you attacked first this time. You were still strong, fast and skilled, but those six weeks spent doing so little . . . they had dulled you. Leon could see it as he batted your attack away. Even as you let his deflection shift you into switching hands, the knife coming up towards his right shoulder, then down when he parried. You almost caught him with that, but his own retaliation came in the form of a blade to your neck. 

Leon saw your eyes flash, and heard you exhale as you both lowered your blades. 

“You left yourself open,” Krauser pointed out, giving voice to what you already knew. 

Just as he voiced the next mistake you made. “Close distance.” 

“Watch your footwork.” 

“Don’t over-commit.” 

Mistake after mistake until, at last, Leon saw your frustrations boiling over. You got hit with a slash to the stomach and immediately you stepped back, turning your back to both of the men in the training yard with you, shoulders rising and falling. Leon thought he heard you swear beneath your breath, and then, concern for you overcame any hesitancy or lingering animosity he had for the Major. He looked Krauser’s way now that your back was turned, letting that worry be known. 

Leon wasn’t surprised when he saw a glint of that worry reflected back at him, then. Valeria hadn’t been far off, last week, after all. Favorite or not, Krauser had pulled you from the snow in Finland. He’d saved your life and given you the tools you needed to safeguard it in the future. He’d given you no mercy, but he had given you care, Leon could see it in his expression now. 

And for all their disagreements, Leon found himself smiling a little when the Major took a breath and spoke. “Kennedy, remind me what happened that first day I had you two fight.” The order was spoken with a now-familiar brashness, and it made you turn back to face Leon and Krauser both. 

Leon glanced your way, before looking back at Krauser as he gave his answer. “Got my ass knocked into the dirt, sir,” he said. He’d never thought to be sentimental over such a thing, but . . . well, these were strange times. 

He’d never thought to be trying to cheer you up with Jack Krauser of all people, either. 

The Major nodded once, very nearly smiling at the memory - smug bastard that he was. “You did. Several times. But you also landed a hit on one of my best men. You know why that is?” He turned towards you, this time, making it clear he expected an answer from you instead. 

Your answer was weighed down by self-loathing. “Because I was too slow.”

You were right - those had been the words Krauser had spoken to you, Leon remembered. Even so, the Major shook his head. “Because shit happens,” he corrected, and Leon felt a strange mix of emotions in his chest as Krauser took a step forward. “You made a mistake. Happens to the best. Your problem is that you get in your own head about it.” He looked back at Leon gesturing to the younger man’s eye - the one that you’d lined with purple and blue in that first fight so long ago. The strike you’d delivered out of anger and shock, that you’d apologized for the next day. “Made you bruise up that pretty face back then, and it’s making you sloppy now.”

Leon did his best not to react to that comment, even if the Major’s word choice made him blink. Instead, he focused on your expression, still a storm of self-pity and guilt. “I know,” you murmured, not meeting Krauser or Leon’s eyes as you did. 

Krauser tilted his head to the side, but his words didn’t hold their usual edge. Just tough love - something that Leon was becoming more and more familiar with from the Major. “If you know, then breathe and get your shit together.” Instead of making you angrier, you nodded and tried to smile. Didn’t quite get there, but you tried. The next comment, though, was the winning blow in that battle. “Now go on. Think Kennedy’s itching for you to knock him down again, isn’t that right?” The taller man gave a wolf’s grin as he looked Leon’s way - a silent challenge. 

Well, if that’s how it was gonna be . . .  

Krauser stepped back and out of the way as your expression shifted from disbelief to a grin. You rolled your shoulders back and stepped up to face Leon once more, but before either of you moved, Leon gave you his own devilish smirk. What he did next might have surprised him, not so long ago. You and Krauser had always had a rapport, but now, whether it was spurred by that twinge of something prickly in his chest or even the rapport that Leon himself had been building with the Major, Leon wasn’t sure. He didn’t know if it was because, as all that happened in Raccoon City and beyond came to light, he realized that the list of people in power that Leon could trust was well and truly bare, save for the man who had taken so many opportunities and risks to do his best by his men. He didn’t know if maybe, just maybe, he’d come to like Krauser just a little bit over the course of the last few months, and that was part of why his mind set him on this path. What he did know was that he wanted you to smile more, and he had one hell of an idea on how to do it. “You feeling up to a real challenge?” he asked, raising a brow, the one visible under his now-grown-out hair. 

Your expression sharpened as you tilted your head to the side. “Not sure I’d put up a good showing unarmed today,” you said, but Leon just shook his head. 

“Not what I meant.” 

Your own brow rose, then. “Oh?” 

Leon just gave you a smile and a wink, and then he whirled around, knife raised high. 

Krauser almost didn’t block in time. 

When he did, when he raised his hand and his arm felt the force of Leon’s blow, the once-rookie cop couldn’t help but smile wider. He never thought he’d have the pleasure of seeing Krauser so surprised, but those wide blue eyes spoke for themselves. 

“What the fuck do you-” 

Leon hadn’t been sure that you’d join in. Not until he saw the flash of your knife at Krauser’s other side, forcing him to lean back into a retreat. He looked between you and Leon, his arms coming up on instinct as he processed what was happening in the blink of an eye, and then . . . 

Well, Leon knew you were both fucked because Krauser smiled. 

Hours spent in training scenarios just like this - and the too-brutal memories of the fight at Fort Benning - gave you and Leon the right instinct to press your attacks. The trouble was that the Major had taught you both how to do that. He’d instructed you on how to move, how to seek out weak spots, and even if you weren’t a little slower than usual in that moment, Krauser was still faster and stronger than you both. 

With the two of you, though . . . it was almost a fair fight. 

You and Leon had time enough to find your rhythm, and there were a few times when your knife or Leon’s nearly had Krauser. So many times where a blade would come so close to achieving that victory, only for the Major to bat it away. 

And as soon as he did, the attacker either had to get clear or be faced with a punch or a kick as punishment. 

“Pretty sad showing. I expected more!” he called out, and Leon could swear that the man was actually having fun. 

He directed the flow of combat as the three of you moved, turning just in time to catch Leon’s thrust as the two of you tried to flank him, using the momentum to toss Leon into the wall of the officer’s barracks. Vaulting far too acrobatically over the table where the rest of the training knives were to arm himself, all while hurling the spare, dull blades at you as you tried to rush after him. 

“Use your surroundings!” the Major reminded the two of you, and as Leon rushed to rejoin you, he heard you grunt in frustration. 

A knife came spinning Leon’s way, then, and instinct made him raise his own blade - only to be met with a shing as metal met metal. Knife meeting knife. The blade Krauser had thrown landed in the dirt at Leon’s feet, and the younger man’s eyes widened in shock and excitement at what he’d just done. 

Even Krauser looked a little impressed - right before you rushed forward and raised your leg to kick forward. The table between you and Krauser shot forward then, hitting the Major hard in the thighs, making the man double over a bit, his hand bracing on the table’s surface. 

Leon took the moment of distraction you’d bought him, boots hitting the dirt hard as he dashed into the fray. He went for the Major’s unarmed left side, not surprised when his strike was blocked a little clumsily, the dulled blade scraping Krauser’s forearm. That was fine, if not the intended result. He quickly went for another, one that was similarly deflected. Just as well. All Leon needed to do was make you an opening. If he couldn’t land a hit, then maybe you could.

Or you could have, if it wasn’t Krauser that the two of you were facing off against. As soon as you got close enough, Krauser looked over his shoulder and kicked his leg back, catching you in the stomach - and very clearly low, avoiding the ribs that had just healed - before you were in range of striking with your knife. With you stumbling away, Krauser was free to answer Leon’s next attack, balancing focus between the two opponents effortlessly. 

Until, at last, it seemed like he’d had enough. 

When you came back in with an attack not too long after, Krauser blocked high in an arcing motion, spinning just as Leon stabbed out towards the Major’s neck. Or, at least, where it had been. Leon didn’t have enough time or space to move as Krauser ducked low, his leg outstretching with a viper’s speed. 

The leg that was forward in Leon’s stance was kicked out from under him and, with most of his weight having been on it, the younger man felt himself falling. Not for long, though, before he hit the ground hard. 

He didn’t see what happened next fully. All he knew was that his attempt at hooking Krauser’s legs to knock him down too missed, leaving him to raise his knife and try to roll to the side and away . . . only to see a shape moving his way. 

No, not moving. Falling. 

The weight of another person crashed into him, and both you and Leon had the wind knocked out of you as Krauser threw you down, right on top of Leon. Your chest against Leon’s back, your arms bracing awkwardly against the ground. Leon’s newfound strength was enough to keep him from being flattened into the earth, luckily, but fuck did you landing on him like that hurt. You were both shaken from the crash, and even if you landing on top of Leon didn’t press him down, Krauser’s weight added to that sure as hell did. Leon grunted as the Major forced him down once more, kicking one of Leon’s arms out from under him and delivering two stabs once his opponents were subdued. One to you, and the second to Leon. 

The three of you breathed in the dust that had risen around you, and Krauser . . . well, Krauser just chuckled. “Even if you have the numbers in a fight,” he said, still holding the two of you down, “those numbers can be used against you.” 

Leon huffed - or tried as best he could with your weight on him, but he nodded all the same. “Thanks for that, sir,” he groaned, and his heart soared when he heard you laugh the tiniest bit from above him. “You gonna let us up?” 

“You gonna learn?” 

“Eventually.” The answer came from you, snarkier than Leon would have expected for when you were talking to Krauser of all people.

Still, the Major hummed in mock-disappointment. “If you two fought half as smart as you talked, you’d be the best fighters I have.” His weight came off of the two of you, and Leon saw him extend a hand towards you. A moment later, you were hoisted to your feet, and Leon began to push himself up . . . only to have a callused hand offered to him as well. Leon looked up at Krauser as he reached for that hand, and he felt strange seeing the older man offering help even while wearing a smile. A grin that, once, had meant only harm was coming Leon’s way. 

“And who are your best?” You asked, and Leon could have sworn you chased the dark away even with the smallest smiles. Enough to make him and Krauser both smile a little wider. 

“After assessments, I’ll tell you,” Krauser shot back, matching your wit a little too well. Leon saw it in the way the corners of your mouth fell, ever so slightly. Because you wouldn’t be taking part in those assessments. Not any time soon. Leon didn’t need to read your thoughts to know that was what sobered you. Krauser must have seen it too, because his own good humor faltered like guilt had kicked the back of its knee. “Go on,” he said, his voice softer, “get some rest. Both of you. I’ll finish up here.” 

With you back in training proper, at least Leon was able to walk with you back to the barracks . . . but it was a walk that went by in almost complete silence. 

“You’ll catch back up, you know,” Leon finally said, not far from the barracks. He could see you grimace as he looked over at you, but he went on because he needed you to hear it. “You were already doing well tonight.” 

“I was shit tonight.” Your response was a brutal and self-inflicted wound. 

“Give yourself a break,” Leon insisted. “You’ve got time, you can work with Krauser-”

“I don’t want time.” You stopped walking, your lips pressed tight together, your fists clenched tight. “I should be going with you.” 

“Hey-” Leon shook his head, turning to face you. “I’ll be okay,” he promised once more. “You’ll be out there soon enough.”

You just frowned, not saying anything, but clearly not convinced. 

Still hurt, even if your bones had healed. 

He’d been seeing you like this too often as of late, so he stepped forward, his mind set only on one thing - the need to reassure you. His arms closed around you and you froze, even as he all but crushed you into his body. You were silent, even if he could practically hear your worries fighting to break free . . . but before long, Leon felt his heart stir as you returned the embrace. You held him tight for a few precious moments, ones that Leon knew he needed to savor. 

After all, there might not be too many of those moments left. 

⧫⧫⧫

“Do you think he’s ready?” The question forced itself from your lips before you could stop it, breaking the near silence of the woods around the base. Krauser looked over at you, lit only by his flashlight. Even so, you could see his expression curve into a frown. “Leon-”

“I know who you’re talking about,” Krauser grumbled. “You’re still in your own head.”

“And you didn’t answer my question.” 

“No one’s ever ready.” He never held back with you in training, you knew he wouldn’t hold back with the truth of this, either. You could see that much in his eyes as he rose from where he’d been kneeling, turning to face you fully. “You know better than anyone that you can’t ever prepare for everything out there. Especially not now.” 

“But do you think that he’s-” it was you that cut yourself off this time, because you knew the Major was right. Still, you needed to know. “Do you think he has a chance? That any of them do?” How could they, when their own government might hang them out to dry? When they were going to be sent against monsters and horrors beyond reckoning?

Krauser studied you, his jaw moving a bit as he thought of what to say. When he did speak at last, his words were quiet but honest. “He had no right to make it this far, but he did. He’s got a chance.” 

That, more than anything else, soothed your worries. It didn’t erase them, but hearing Krauser affirm that . . .

“But take it from someone who knows,” the Major went on, his voice more grave, his words broken up by a heavy breath. Like he was gathering strength, almost. Saying something he didn’t want to say. “Don’t waste a moment if you can help it.” 

You felt your lips part as your jaw dropped a little, surprise on your features as you looked at the man in front of you. Not so long ago, you’d heard him give you ice cold advice, telling you to forget the pipe dream of what you and Leon shared. “What happened to ‘not being stupid because it feels good’?” you asked, cautious and incredulous because this was in no way the advice that Krauser should be giving you as a superior officer. 

And yet . . .

“If you’re going to be stupid, better to be stupid here than out in the field.” It sounded like a half-logical and half-hearted reason, throwing you all the more for a loop. “You’ll have enough regrets as is. Don’t leave here with more.” 

You stared at him in the dark for a moment longer, trying to understand. Trying to make sense of the conflicting warmth and emptiness in your gut. In the end, though, all you could do was ask one thing. “Why? Why give a shit at all?” 

Another beat of silence met you before Krauser answered, deflection clear in his tone. “It’s all you ever talk about,” he accused with an attempt at humor. “Maybe this’ll finally get you to shut up about it.” 

You scoffed at that but smiled a little anyway. “Bullshit. We haven't been talking about anything for weeks.” 

Krauser just raised a brow. “You want something to talk about? Fine.” You were sure he was going to chew you out. To give you a lecture about how you’d been moping again, or how you needed to ‘get your shit together’. Something of substance, of weight and importance. Instead . . . “You really like that Spice Girls shit?” he asked, and you balked at the words. 

You, once again, spoke faster than you could really process your own words. “Rich, coming from the man who played bluegrass for weeks on end.” Krauser snorted at that, and you found yourself enjoying the sound. “But yes, I do like them.” 

The Major just rolled his eyes and set back to work - though this time, there was a steady conversation between the two of you as you finished up. One you were grateful for, but one that gave way to a single thought, when you returned to the barracks for First Call. 

A thought that pressed against you as the day carried on - one of the last days you were guaranteed to share with the man you loved. 

Krauser was right. You had enough regrets. Enough what-ifs. 

You hadn’t gotten to say a proper goodbye to so many people you loved. 

You would be damn sure Leon would get one. 

Before he was thrown into the fire, you decided that morning that he would have as much of you as you could give. 

Chapter Text

“So . . . you think there’ll be fireworks?” 

Leon’s brow arched as he looked over at Williams, and the tall woman looked back at him with an innocent expression. 

“What?” she went on. “Krauser can’t be that much of a stick in the mud. We could say it’s mortar shell training or something. Besides, haven’t we earned some real celebration time?” 

Valeria, who walked on Williams’ other side, scoffed. “Krauser might be in favor of that, but Reed and Hellman? Assholes probably didn’t even want to give us the day off.” 

A fact that Leon had to agree with - and one he was all too glad hadn’t been the case. The agents - alongside Krauser - had worked everyone to the bone these final two weeks. Leon had dragged himself through mud and barbed wire, run farther than he ever had in his life, taken bruise after bruise in the training yard and shot after shot at the firing range, all in preparation for what tomorrow held. The beginning of the end. The final test before he and the men and women beside him were no longer trainees, but agents. Weapons in an arsenal for a war unlike anything seen before. There might have been no chance to breathe before that final hurdle, were it not for the day it happened to be. 

He’d never been one to savor national holidays until now. Even Reed and Hellman were forced to honor Independence Day though, it seemed. And so, on this, the final Sunday before the test, the STRATCOM trainees were given another much needed day off. 

“Yeah,” Leon deadpanned, “a day off that you two really wanted to spend strolling through the woods with me.” Which, in truth, he was a little grateful for. The rest of the squad had planned something of a party in the evening, but the rest of the day? Leon had wanted to spend it with you. It was his last chance to, after all. It had made him more than a little disappointed when you’d told him that Doc needed your help in the infirmary in the morning, and he hadn’t seen you in the hours since then. So, even if he knew that he was likely just being dragged along with Dina and Valeria for the sake of cover, he appreciated the chance to keep his mind off the impending test. 

The thing was - Williams had never been a great liar, even with all the CIA training going on. And now, as Leon made his remark, her innocent look slipped in favor of a knowing smile. 

Valeria shot a grin over at him - one that didn’t cover her obvious sarcasm but did divert his attention. “What can I say? You’re just such good company.” 

Leon laughed, but shook his head all the same. “Well . . . you two just let me know when you want me to ‘lose you guys’ in the woods.” 

Williams’ smile widened, and Leon took that expression to mean that he’d hit the nail on the head. “You think we’d ditch you to go have some fun by ourselves?” she asked, as if the very thought offended her. 

Didn’t change Leon’s answer. “Yes.” 

Valeria laughed, then. “Well, you’d be right. But that’s not the only reason we’re out here, you know.” She’d make a good agent - Leon already knew that, but in the moment that followed? He was made completely sure of it in the nonchalant tone of her voice. The measured control she had over her expression. 

The way she didn’t even look at the movement Leon couldn’t see on his other side.

The way she didn’t give away that there was a fourth person there, until there was a hand at his arm and he only just stopped a blunted knife from meeting his throat.

Leon froze, but smiled all the same because he didn’t need to look to know who was at his back. Not with the way Dina and Valeria were grinning at him. Not with the way your body pressed against his. 

“It’s too easy to sneak up on you, Kennedy,” you told him, and Leon huffed a little laugh. 

“Thought my friends here were going to be watching my back,” he said, looking over at his walking companions - who, of course, were taking steps further down the forest path, backing away from you and Leon with knowing smiles. 

“And Krauser would tell you not to use your friends as a crutch,” Valeria smirked. 

Leon returned the look, unable to be anything other than excited, he found. Because if you had coordinated this with Valeria and Dina as he suspected you had, that meant that he was going to be spending the day with you after all. “What a betrayal,” he sighed, but there was no real hurt in his words. Just as there was no real intent to harm when he shook off your hold on his arm and leveraged his body, sending you arcing over his shoulder. You grunted as you rolled, coming into a crouch, your knife still in your hand and your lips carved into a wicked smile. 

Your eyes met, and for the first time in weeks - since Fort Benning, really - Leon glimpsed something he’d missed seeing in you. 

Fire. 

“Not bad,” you praised, rising to your feet but keeping your knife up, your stance ready. God, he’d missed this, he realized. Not necessarily the act of crossing blades with you, but the challenge of your will crashing against his own. Your bodies against each other, the line between lesson and love blurring until it became non-existent. And, as Dina and Valeria continued to move on past the two of you, Leon knew to expect exactly that feeling. 

“Have fun, you two. Meet you back in an hour,” Valeria called over her shoulder as the two of them disappeared down the winding path, leaving you and Leon alone. Payment for the nights Leon had spent on fire watch, when he’d awoken Valeria and Dina to have an hour for themselves. Hours and moments stolen, and now the same opportunity given to him. 

An hour, with just the two of you and the green around you. 

It would never be enough, but he would take what he could get. Even if that hour started with you lunging at him, your knife aimed at his heart. He blocked easily, just as you’d taught him to; taking a step to the side and reaching for your wrist, trying to trap your hand against his chest. Two weeks ago, he would have been able to disarm you with that move. Now, you just stepped in with him, your knee rising fast just as Leon twisted his torso to leverage your wrist. 

He stepped back just in time, letting one hand leave your knife to block your knee - and it was enough for you to wrench your blade free, the dulled edge scraping across Leon’s chest as it went. 

And God, the smile you gave him when you felt that . . . it was only fuel to his fire. 

He looked at you then, the soldier who had somehow stolen his heart in all this mess, and he almost laughed because, well, for once, he felt like the odds were even. Not because your injury had brought you down to his level, but because you’d raised him up to yours. Through hours and days and months, you had given him the ability to stand against you now. Krauser may have given him the skills, but you? Leon knew now that you were his strength. The reason he pushed himself to be better, the firm hand that had pulled him up from the dirt. Then, you had been unarmed and Leon had been unsure. You’d been a mystery, and he’d thought you a monster. Now . . . now Leon could scarcely imagine a world or a life without you in it. 

And now he would face you down, the final time a mirror of the first.

“That the best you’ve got?” Leon challenged, not because you weren’t giving him your best, but because he wanted to see your fire. He wanted those cinder-stares and the burn of your touch. He wanted it more than he could remember wanting anything, because this might be the last time he could-

You severed that line of thought with another attack, a series of slashes that Leon managed to successfully defend against. He managed a push kick to create some distance between the two of you, and the tension between the two of you came to a simmer as your eyes locked together. 

“You want my best?” You asked, raising a brow and letting your smile turn wicked. “Then come get it.” 

Maybe Williams had been on to something after all.

Maybe there would be fireworks. 

⧫⧫⧫

The battle - and it truly felt like one - traveled off the dirt path and into the woods. Between trees and around fallen debris, you and Leon traded blows and crossed blades. Use your surroundings, Krauser had told you, and damned if you weren’t going to prove a good student. You led Leon through the woods just as you planned, either retreating and forcing him to follow after you, or pressing the attack to get him back on course. 

To get him where you needed to be. 

The trouble was that herding an opponent as smart and skilled as Leon was harder than it looked. You learned that when he too took advantage of the forest around him, putting trees between him and you, grinning like the smug bastard he could be when he routed you successfully . . . 

Of course, you would do the same to him; knocking him into the brush, forcing him in the direction you needed him to go. You were nearly there, nearly at that perfect place . . . but then in a few moves, your plan came a little unraveled. 

You’d lost sight of him - just for a second or two, but it was enough. Enough that, as you scanned the woods for him, he could come at you sideways. You swung at him and he ducked just beneath your arm, rising on the other side at your back. With a grunt, you swung backwards at him, but too late to avoid the block he raised. Too slow to escape him trapping your forearm in his grip, his other hand bracing at your shoulder. 

The pressure he applied there, combined with him hooking one of your legs out from under you was meant to send you straight down. Trouble was that you happened to catch yourself, and you stumbled in an awkward arc. 

Right into a goddamn tree. 

You barely managed to reach up with your free hand, bracing against the worst of it, but the bark still scraped against your skin - forearm and face both. You grunted at the pain, but it was Leon who’s reaction bore the most concern. He called your name in surprise, and you felt his grip on you loosen. 

“Fuck! Are you-” 

He didn’t get to finish his question or his worry, because you ducked fully under his reach, your blade now free to run across his stomach. Unable to defend, Leon exhaled above you, then exclaimed as you reached for his knee, pulling his leg out from under him. His back met the forest floor and you landed on top of him, pinning him there, blade to his throat. 

“You had me,” you scolded despite yourself, shaking your head. “You could’ve won. You cannot keep doing this. You can’t keep letting your worry hold you back.” 

His smile faltered, the light in his eyes fading at your words. You could see yourself strangling the joy from the encounter, but you just couldn’t help yourself. Still, Leon just shook his head. “You’re one to talk about worry,” he pointed out.

“I have every reason to be worried.”

“Not today,” he insisted, some annoyance coming through now. Or maybe it was fear. “I don’t want to think about that today.” 

Guilt weighed you down, making for one hell of a tag-team as that worry refused to let go of its stranglehold on you. Still, you nodded, forcing yourself to relent. “Okay. Yeah, sorry.” 

Leon was, as always, too quick to forgive you. “It’s okay,” he promised. Then he smiled like he was seeing the sun for the first time after weeks of rain. “I’ve missed you.” 

Even if you were the one with the knife pressed to his skin, that simple phrase cut deep into you because, damn it-

“I’ve missed you too.” 

You moved then, freeing his arms. Letting him reach for you. Letting him hold you the way you’d been imagining him holding you for the last eight weeks. You weren’t surprised when he reached for your face, his thumb gently stroking the fresh scrapes on your cheek, just beneath your eye. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, too sweet for what he was about to become. But it wasn’t some hardened soldier underneath you, then. Not the man who was about to be Agent Kennedy. No, however much his body had changed over months of training, this was your rookie. Your Leon. So, his concern over the little injuries made you smile. 

“You know I’ve had worse,” you reassured him. “Besides . . . we’re even for that first day, now. ‘Bout time you gave me some bruises to remember you by.” 

“That’s not how I want you to remember me.” Leon’s words were serious, then. Weighty. And you couldn’t fault him. You both had so many hurts - so many marks left on you that told the story of your lives. You’d both shared those wounds with each other. It was time to share something better. 

So, you leaned down, taking the knife away from his throat. “Then how do you want me to?” you asked, your lips so close to his.

He answered you with a kiss - no hesitation. No waiting. Not anymore. Your response was the same, meeting him in that touch of slow passion. Not that it stayed slow for long. “Like this,” he said, and you smiled against his lips. 

You’d had a few weeks to take out your frustrations of not training. Sparring wasn’t the only thing you’d been unable to participate in, and it didn’t matter how often you let your own hand wander between your legs back in the infirmary, or more recently in the shower. It would never be enough to alleviate your yearning for him. There was only one way to get around that. 

So, you pressed your body against his, feeling the shape of him that you’d been denied for so long. With the woods between you and any prying eyes, you let yourself fall into his kiss with abandon. 

Well, almost. 

“I fuckin’ missed you . . .” Leon repeated, the words trapped between your lips and his. You could feel his hand gripping desperately at your waist, his body tensing underneath yours. 

“How much?” you asked, and you pressed a sly smile against his lips. 

Leon smirked right back at you, the hand on your cheek moving to the back of your neck instead to pull you down against him. “Let me show you.” 

It was hard to break away from that kiss. A test of willpower to stop, even as he let you dip your tongue into his mouth, making one of his soft little sounds. God, you had to call on so much willpower before you managed to break that heated kiss, pressing a hand against his chest to keep him from following you up. “Right here on the forest floor, Kennedy?” you asked, feeling like a wire coming to life with electricity. 

“I don’t mind getting dirty,” was Leon’s simple reply, and you weren’t sure whether you wanted to roll your eyes or kiss him harder. 

“Well, you’ll be the one on your back,” you warned, smiling as it made Leon exhale a little breath. “You want that to be here? Or somewhere more comfortable?”  

Leon just raised a brow, looking up at you in confusion. “Wasn’t the woods your idea?” 

“This was part of my idea,” you corrected, and when Leon’s look of confusion only grew, you smiled and got up off of him. He took your hand when you offered it to him, and you couldn’t help the little sparks of excitement bubbling in your gut as you led him through the woods, following the notches in the trees you’d used to mark your way. It wasn’t long before you reached your destination at last, and you looked over at Leon just in time to see his eyes light up at what you’d prepared. 

“What’s this?” he asked, his voice betraying his joy. 

Not that there was, really, much to cause that joy. Just your rucksack, partially unloaded, sitting in the middle of a little clearing, two plastic bags with sandwiches inside (thank you, Doc) and an unzipped standard issue sleeping bag laid out in the shade. All that and, of course, a little radio resting up against the bag. 

“This,” you said, propping a hand up on your hip, “is your graduation present. Part of it.” 

Leon just stared at you for a moment, and you took it as an opportunity to go on. 

“You said you wanted a date before. Best I could do-” 

“You’re a romantic.” The observation cut you off, and your eyes flashed a little like he’d just slapped you, even if his words were nothing but adoring. 

“I am not-”

“You are,” Leon insisted, chuckling. 

“And you’re a pain in the ass.” 

“Yet you keep me around.” 

“For some reason.” 

Leon laughed, because there was no real venom in either of your words. Then he took you in his arms, pulling you tight against him. Like he never wanted to let go. “Whatever reason that is, I’ll take it.” 

Reason. As if there was only one. As if Leon Kennedy hadn’t been the damn sunrise for you these last few months, breaking through your clouds. As if he hadn’t made you laugh and smile and forget even for just a few moments. As if he wasn’t the most beautiful man you’d ever seen inside and out. As if he wasn’t the person you would kill and die for. 

That was all too much to speak, though. That was why you’d planned this. Why you’d decided to risk it once more, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time. 

So you kissed him. 

You kissed him until the woods and the sounds of birds faded to background static, and you didn’t stop as you felt his hands seeking the hem of your shirt. He wasn’t the only one who wanted this to be memorable, after all, and so you dedicated yourself to making him come undone. Your time together hadn’t been long, in the grand scheme of things, but you had learned his weaknesses in love just as you had in fighting. Things like the way he melted when you took charge, his breath catching in his throat as you pushed him back against a tree, trapping him there. Or the way he tried to hide his moan when you pulled his hair back hard, exposing his throat to you so you could trail kisses there. 

Back between the buildings of base, you would have commended him for that attempt. Here, though? “There’s no one to hear you but me, pretty boy,” you murmured against his neck, your free hand sliding down to palm the growing hardness between his legs. “And I better hear you.” 

“Oh, God,” Leon breathed, his head falling back against the tree. He laughed a little as he pressed his hips into your hand. “This the other part of my graduation present?” 

You hummed against his skin, excitement building in your belly. In another world, another life, you would have spent hours building to this. You would have unraveled him piece by piece until he was a mess in your bed. Here, you didn’t have such time, so your plan would have to be enacted faster. “You remember our rule? You can tell me if anything goes too far at any time?” 

There was some hesitancy in his answer, but he nodded all the same. “Yes.” 

“Good,” you responded, leaning away to nip at his earlobe, enjoying the way it made him shudder. Still, you enjoyed his reaction to what you said next far more. “Because I want to ride you,” you told him, and already you saw red creeping into his cheeks, “but I only want that if you want it too.” You pulled back to look at his face for that last promise, bringing a halt to your teasing touches to let him make his decision. 

In the end, he stared at you with those wide eyes - more black now than blue - like he didn’t dare to hope what you’d offered was real. “Are you sure? We don’t have-”

“I’m sure,” you confirmed, your eyes finding his own so he could see the truth in them. “I want to feel you.” And you didn’t know when you’d ever get the chance again. If you’d ever-

“I want to feel you too.” Leon’s admission was quiet but you could hear the need in his words. The fear, because no doubt, he had the same worries in his mind. “But are you really sure?” 

You just gave him a look and pressed your lips against his once more. His hands found your face as he kissed you back, holding on like he was afraid to let go. “I’m sure,” you repeated against his lips. “Have you ever done this before?” you asked, because it was an important question. 

Leon stopped his kisses for just a moment, blushing a little deeper as he answered. “Once.” 

You’d figured as much. “Well, it’s been a long time for me,” you admitted. “Might need your help with a few things. Are you okay with that, too?” 

Leon just nodded, murmuring your name. “You could ask me to do just about anything and I’d do it.” 

You could hear the truth there. The complete and utter devotion in his words. It terrified you, so you pushed the feeling away. “Then you have some work to do,” you said, your hand dragging down to his chest.

“Guess I do,” Leon agreed, and your eyes widened as you felt him grip your shoulders. He maneuvered you so that you were against the tree now, facing the bark as Leon settled in at your back. So much more confident than he’d been that first night, when he’d all but let you do what you pleased with him. It made you smile as you braced your hands against the tree, all while feeling his hands at your hips. 

“Getting bold, rookie,” you pointed out. 

“Just like you taught me to be,” he said, his hands fiddling at the waistline of your fatigues. “Is this okay?” 

“So long as you remember that this ends with you on your back.”

“I think I can live with that. But I’m gonna give you a run for your money, first.” 

You’d never known Leon Kennedy to go back on his word. But as his lips met your neck and his hand snuck between your legs, you knew that this was a promise he meant to go above and beyond with. Before too long the two of you had set a rhythm, his hips rubbing against you, his hand opening your fatigues and sliding down to touch-

“There . . .” you sighed, rocking yourself against him, tilting your head to the side as he sucked and nibbled gently at your skin. Still, as nice as this was, you were on a bit of a schedule still, and damn did you want more. “That the best you’ve got?” you asked, using Leon’s earlier words against him. 

It made him chuckle against your skin. “Not by a long shot.” 

He made good on that promise too just a few moments later, as he tugged your pants down past your hips, your underwear too. He proved that he was good for more than just oaths when you felt him kiss his way down your back . . . and then even you moaned as his tongue circled you. However stupid this is, however foolish, you couldn’t give a damn in that moment. You let your eyes fall closed as he tasted you, one hand on your hips to support you, the other snaking around you to stroke exactly where you needed. 

He took to his task with vigor, and you arched your back into him, desperate to feel more of his tongue and touch. “That’s it,” you moaned, reaching a hand back to grab a fistful of his hair. 

The action made him groan into you, as it always did, and there the two of you stayed for what was too long and not nearly long enough, him worshiping you on his knees.

When he added the first finger at your instruction, you dug your nails into the bark and his name was a hymn as it left your lips. “Leon-”  

“I’ve got you,” he promised, and you believed him, letting yourself adjust to the feeling of him. 

Nothing mattered but him. Nothing else in the whole fucking world. 

“Another,” you ordered, and he obeyed, sliding another finger into you. You groaned at the stretch, at the feeling of his hand pressing into and against you, and all you wanted is more, more, more-

And he gave you just that. Working you open, learning what little of you he hadn’t known. He rose, leaning over you to mouth at your neck once more, careful not to leave any marks while his hands moved fast. Then you cried out as he reached that place in you that made sunlight bloom in you, and he noticed. You’d never given him credit enough for being able to find weak spots until now, but it wasn’t long before you were panting as he held you close. He was breathing heavily against your neck, his muscled body all but pressing you into the tree until-

“Oh, fuck!” you hissed, biting down on your lip as pleasure washed over you, warm and gentle just like the man that unleashed its tide on you. You shivered, glad of the strength of your legs not betraying you, and when it was finally done you could only let out a huff. “This was supposed to be about you,” you breathed, looking over your shoulder, only for Leon to nuzzle into you. 

He just hummed against the back of your neck, and you just knew he was grinning ear to ear. “Sorry. Got a little carried away.” You felt him kiss your still-clothed shoulder, and you laughed. 

“Well, pretty boy,” you said, turning to face him fully, letting your eyes glint in the light slipping through the trees, “I intend to give as good as I get.” 

⧫⧫⧫

Leon laughed as you pushed him down, the unfolded sleeping bag rustling as he landed on top of it. You never were one to waste time, and you didn’t now as you climbed on top of him, your lips crashing against his. He almost protested that you shouldn’t, given what he’d just done for you, but you didn’t seem to care and that only made him blush hard into the kiss. 

And as you kissed him, Leon felt his heart hammer against his ribs and sunlight kiss his skin as you pushed his shirt up. He rose, trying to help you pull it all the way off, but you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back down firmly. “Down, boy,” you told him, and Leon blushed a deep, dark red. “Much as I’d love to strip you down, that’ll have to wait for next time.” 

Next time.  

Please, God, let there be a next time-

All thoughts of the future began to fade, though, as you reached for the fastenings of Leon’s fatigue pants. Freeing him from what he’d been straining against for some time now. He lifted his hips to help you pull them down, and your hand set to work immediately. Leon sighed as you licked your palm, then wrapped your fingers around him and God, he needs you. 

He’d never felt a need like he did then, not once in all his life because you were his and he was yours. All that you had gone through and all that you would go through, whether together or apart, whatever pain awaited you, the two of you would have this. 

You would steal one moment of perfection together. 

I love you-

So, when you finally had enough of working with your hand, there was only one answer to the question you asked. “Are you ready?” 

“Fuck yes.”  

You were in control. Leon had no illusions about that. So he let you move yourself, straddling him a bit awkwardly with your pants still around your ankles. His hands came to your thighs, squeezing gently because, frankly, he didn’t know what else to do. All he knew was that he’d imagined this moment so many times and now it was here at last. 

He watched with wide eyes as you lined him up, feeling himself pressing up against the wetness he left behind . . . and then moaned as you sank down on the first inch of him. 

He wasn’t entirely sure he survived what followed, really. Strangled gasps left him and you both as you lowered yourself bit by bit - he didn’t even have time to ask if you were alright. You were setting the pace, and Leon of all people knew that you were going to push yourself to the limit as much as you would push him. And so, the two of you moaned together as you took him deeper and deeper until, finally, blissfully, he felt himself fully buried in you. 

And there was nothing, not anything at all on this Earth, that had ever felt so good. 

He stared up at you, eyes blown wide, and found it nearly impossible to breathe as the two of you stilled, letting your body adjust for just a moment. Leon couldn’t find the words. What words could possibly do justice to the sight of you over him like that, the sun haloing through the trees above you? How could he ever describe to you how deeply you moved him, how your jagged-glass eyes softening and looking away from him made him feel alive? An angel of vengeance that, for just a few moments, had been sent to love him. To soothe the shredded heart in his chest. 

I love you, he repeated in his mind, once that mind was clear enough to form a thought. 

“Are you okay?” he finally managed to ask, and he hoped so desperately that you would say yes. That you would tell him to move. That he could feel you like he’d wanted to all this time. 

Your nod was heaven-sent, just like you were. “Yeah,” you told him. “You?” 

“Yeah.” 

A smile. A spark of hellfire in heaven. 

Then your hips rolled, and Leon moaned. 

You’d told him that you wanted to ride him, but fuck he hadn’t imagined it quite like this. 

“God you feel . . .” he couldn’t do justice to that feeling, either. He never could. You knew it, too, because you gave him a toothy grin and ground your hips against him harder, pressing him deeper into yourself, and Leon was sure those fireworks he’d been talking about had been lit in his chest.

“So do you,” you told him, your eyes falling closed as you twisted and moved on top of him. 

The two of you panted together, hips swirling and your hands splayed over his chest. Your fingertips traced down from where his shirt was bunched up at his collarbone, brushing against the scar at his shoulder. A wound taken for a woman who’d dealt him a wound in turn, and who, in that moment, was far, far away from Leon’s mind. There was only you, then, and the sweet sounds of your breathing. The feeling of your hand over his heart for just a moment, and then the involuntary jolt that went through him as you pinched at one of his nipples. 

The feeling made him flush because he hadn’t thought to- 

“Like that?” you asked, leaning down to grin at him. Leon, breathless, just swallowed because holy shit the way you looked, the way you felt around him-

“You’re gonna kill me,” he whimpered when you pinched him again, your hips moving at a torturous pace. 

You just chuckled, moving down to kiss his throat as you worked and your lips and your hands and the feeling of being inside you-

It was all too much. He couldn’t take it, his mind turning into a haze as he moved his hands up, feeling your hips. Your belly. He pushed your own shirt up, desperate to see you, only for his eyes to widen as he brushed against rough, raised skin. You stopped your torment of him to grab both his wrists, just as he brushed against your scars. Fearing he’d made a misstep, he let you pin both arms at his sides, looking up at you with concern. 

He was met, though, only with desire when his eyes met yours. 

And just then, your hips picked up speed. 

“Oh my god-” another exclamation as he surrendered to you fully. He didn’t know what to do - whether to buck up into you, to meet your passion with his own, or to let you have your way. Either seemed too perfect a choice, too tempting a desire, and each time you rose up and sank back down on him it only filled his mind with more and more static. 

“You have no idea . . .” you told him, whispering the words against his ear between breaths. “No idea how long I’ve wanted this.” 

“Yes I do,” Leon insisted, feeling something white hot and unstoppable building in his chest. Something he tried to stave off because he wanted eternity for this moment. “Yes I do-” 

I love you-

“You’ve wanted it too,” you agreed, squeezing his wrists a little harder as you moved faster. “I know. I know baby.” 

Your name left his lips, but you went on. 

“Show me. You promised to show me how much you missed me. Show me.” 

I love you-

Only you could give him orders like that, and as soon as Leon felt your grip on his wrists loosen, he did as you asked. He gripped your hips with all his newfound strength, and he let his instincts move him. Instincts that led him to lifting you, the muscles in his arms flexing as he did it. Your eyes widened, and then flashed as he brought you back down around him, hard. 

From there, it was a losing game. 

⧫⧫⧫

Moans filled Leon’s mouth, and then your tongue followed as the two of you worked together, trading kisses as he helped you move up and down, up and down. It was almost brutal, the pace you set, offset by the sweetness of the kiss. 

Of course, that could only last for so long before you needed more. 

Always more. 

You broke away, leaning back and bracing one hand on Leon’s thighs. The other went between your own legs and you moaned, letting your head fall back as he thrust up into you. Letting yourself fall away and into the abyss, where none of your worries dared to follow.

⧫⧫⧫

But Leon followed you. 

As beautiful as you looked above him, he couldn’t let you go. Not yet. He watched you touch yourself for only a moment before he pushed himself up, one arm coming around you to pull you flush against him. Your head snapped back down, clearly caught by surprise, your lips parted as the two of you went on moving. 

Your eyes met his and-

⧫⧫⧫

You knew you were doomed, because just like that, you couldn’t look away. 

The hand you’d braced against Leon’s thigh came to press against his back instead and you let your body rock with each shared movement.

⧫⧫⧫

He whimpered as you pressed down on him-

You moaned as he pushed your shirt up and laid kisses on your chest-

As he felt you clenching around him-

As his hand replaced your own between your legs-

As that pleasure in him built-

And built- 

Until, at last- 

“Leon-”

“I’m-”

His warning and your name both were lost in the kiss you gave him, and then you were both gone from the world. For just one moment, you weren’t you and Leon wasn’t Leon. There were no boundaries between the two of you, nothing left to hide. Nothing left to fear, or fear for. 

Only each other. 

“I love you.”

He wasn’t sure you heard the confession, but he supposed it didn’t matter. You knew. You had to have known. 

Leon clung to you tightly as he finished, his hips twitching up into you just as you shuddered in his lap. Quiet settled in around you, wrapping you both in its embrace, only broken by labored breathing and distant birdsong. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, not sure what part he was sorry for. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t be sorry,” you shook your head. “Not for anything.” 

His heart set at ease once more, Leon could have lived in that moment forever. He wanted to so desperately as he lay back against the sleeping bag, dragging you with him.

For a few beats of his healing heart, he was happy. 

Even as you asked a final question in a worried, weary voice-

⧫⧫⧫

"You sure it's a good idea?" you began, your head against Leon's chest. "Loving me?" Because that was all you could think of; his whispered confession in the throes of passion. You wanted to give him the chance to take it back. To choose a safer path. 

You should have known Leon Kennedy was a man of risks by now. 

"Maybe it isn't," he admitted, catching his breath. "But honestly? I really don't give a damn." 

Your fear came back, then, creeping across the forest floor to join in on your embrace. Still, your voice managed to be mostly good-humored as you shook your head. "You're crazy." 

He laughed. God, he sounded so young. So happy. "Maybe I am. Think that's part of what you like about me."

Like. Not love. He didn't want to presume, even if he'd be right. Even if you did love him. 

Even if the mirroring confession to his was right at the tip of your tongue. There it lingered, holding on for dear life as you nodded. "Maybe it is," you agreed. 

You weren't entirely sure why you didn't say it back, even if you knew you felt the same love. 

All you knew was that you didn't voice it that day in the woods. 

Later, you wondered if maybe you should have. 

Chapter Text

Sunlight strained through trees.

Music, playing so softly you could barely hear it. 

Warmth in your heart, blooming from the fresh memory of his touch. 

I love you. 

The words Leon had whispered to you as your skin pressed up against his. A secret more devastating and dangerous than any of the reports that Krauser had given to you. 

He loved you. And you hadn’t been able to say it back. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not as the two of you redressed yourselves, nor as you lingered in the woods for a little while longer, listening to the radio and eating the sandwiches Doc had intended only for you. You should have been enjoying the final day together - a day that had so luckily happened to fall on a holiday once again. Instead, you couldn’t stop thinking of those words, from the walk back to base proper, well into the evening. 

An evening that should have offered some distraction. 

STRATCOM recruits worked hard, but on the Fourth of July? On the last day before their final test? They played even harder. 

Your stolen radio was just as celebrated as the fact that, for your squad, training was almost over. The months of pain and pressure were coming to a close, and as your squad gathered in the barracks that night, pushing bunks out of the way, you were happy to try and drown your screaming thoughts in the music. To watch your fellow recruits dance and laugh. To watch Leon smiling and trying not to look at you as the two of you gravitated towards each other. 

He loved you. 

You remained on the edges of the party, not sure whether to thank God or damn him for that love. You’d known, you supposed, but now it was real. Tangible. Lingering like the growing soreness in your body. There was no way to ignore it, to set it aside. What was that box with the cat inside of it? The one where you weren’t sure if it was alive or dead? Well, it was alive and well and now you had a life in your hands that you didn’t know what to do with. Because soon enough, it would be Leon that could be either living or dying and he loved you and you didn’t know how you could-

“I’m stealing your pretty boy,” Valeria pulled you from your thoughts just as she pulled Leon towards the cleared out space in the middle of the bunkhouse. His eyes widened and he tried to protest, but you just smiled and shrugged, not coming to his rescue. 

Watching him dance with the others was funny enough to outshine your turbulent mind for a moment. You got the feeling that Selena wasn’t what he usually listened to, let alone danced to. Still, you knew better than anyone that he was a fast learner. Valeria and the others laughed, and it wasn’t long before Leon was laughing too, finding an easy rhythm as songs went by. 

And for a moment, you found yourself caught in a different memory, same circumstances; same stupid, happy music, but different faces. 

Faces that had been warped and twisted not by time and memory but by a weapon without a blade or trigger-

“Not gonna dance, Sarge?” Alenko had once been hesitant to talk to you. Hell, most people on base had been. Now, he left the dance floor and wiped his brow with an easy smile and nothing but friendly affection for you in his eyes. 

Williams answered for you, shaking her head and approaching after her friend. “Nah. Having fun? This one? Maybe when hell freezes over.” She had a teasing tone to her voice that was familiar but not entirely welcome . . . but welcome or not, that tease made itself at home and started brewing a feeling of amusement in you. 

“Or when you learn to not overcommit on your slashes,” you shot back, earning a smile from Williams in turn. “That’d be just as likely.” Still, even with the joke, you didn’t move. 

Not until Alenko came and sat at your side, his voice lowering so others couldn’t hear you as well. “Come on,” he said, “it’s our last night all together. Can’t be a proper unit without our Sergeant.” 

Even with how those words stung, you almost said no. At least, until Leon looked over at you from the dance floor, looking younger and happier than you’d ever seen him. 

You’d prided yourself on your defenses, once. Now, they crumbled so easily. 

“Fine,” you said, and you had to try to sound annoyed as you stood, feeling like you were stepping into the past.

Against all your best efforts, against everything in you screaming to make it not so, you had fun that night. Dancing to whatever other stupid songs came on the radio, trading muted but real smiles and laughs with the men and women you’d trained alongside . . . sharing glances with the man who loved you. 

Who you loved in turn. 

“I owe you an apology for that first day too,” Leon told you, a little out of breath, as the two of you stepped off the impromptu dance floor for a break. 

“I seem to recall you were the one that walked away with a bruised face that day,” you pointed to the matching scrapes you’d picked up in the woods that matched. 

Leon chuckled but shook his head. “Nah. I said you couldn’t dance. Think you proved me wrong tonight.” 

You just laughed at that, because you honestly hadn’t even remembered that snide remark of his until now. “Glad to know I haven’t lost that skill entirely.” 

“Well, maybe we’ll have to try again some other time,” Leon offered with a low voice and a shrouded smirk. Dancing with him again. In the future. He sounded so hopeful when he said it. Hopeful . . . and afraid. Still, he’d always been good at hiding his fear. “You know, practice makes perfect and all that.”

God, you loved him.

“That is what they say.” 

You didn’t get the chance to tell him that night, though, as Krauser knocked on the barracks door and told you all to get some rest. All you did was try to memorize his smile. God, you would move mountains for that smile. It was a smile that you held on to as you all turned in for the night, one you clung to as you lay in your bunk. His smile, the feeling of him, all the moments you’d stolen with him. You thought of it all as you went to sleep. 

Sunlight strained through trees.

Music, playing so softly you could barely hear it. 

Warmth in your heart, blooming from the fresh memory of his touch. 

I love you. 

It was, by all accounts, the best day you’d had in a long damn time. 

You only hoped that Leon felt the same. That you’d given him enough to hold on to when he passed his test - and you knew he would pass his test - and went into the world. You hoped that whatever horrors he would face, he would remember the sun and your touch on his skin and find the will to keep fighting. 

You hoped that he knew, even if you hadn’t spoken the words, that you loved him. 

You hoped he knew.

⧫⧫⧫

Krauser had told them he’d wake them all at 0200 - that the test would begin in earnest then, that it would span over the next three days. Leon wasn’t surprised when the door to the barracks was knocked open at 0100 instead. 

Just as well, he hadn’t been able to sleep much anyway. He’d allowed himself to get lost in thoughts of you. Memories of your touch, of how you’d felt. 

As soon as Krauser came through that door, though, Leon did his best to push those thoughts aside. It would be days before he saw you again, he couldn’t let you distract him any more than normal. Easier said than done, when only a few hours before you’d been above him, framed by sunlight and-

Leave it to you to find a way to make this just a little more challenging for him. 

You rose with everyone else, even if you weren’t going to be coming along. It seemed that you hadn’t been sleeping much, either. Leon hoped the thoughts keeping you awake would be more pleasant ones, but he knew there was likely more on your mind than just your time with him. Leon glanced over at you as he got ready, unable not to. Not just because you had given him a memory he would never forget, but because you should have been going with. You should be putting your skills to the test alongside the rest of them. His only solace was that you wouldn’t be deployed with the rest any time soon. 

You would be safe for just a little while longer. 

He knew that would be of no consolation to you, though. That was likely why your smile wasn’t genuine when you caught him looking at you.

Even so, you made your way over to him, just before the squad moved out. “You ready?” you asked, searching Leon’s eyes for the truth of his answer. 

And honestly? No, he wasn’t. He didn’t fear the days of tests that awaited him, however grueling and cruel Krauser and Hellman were going to be. He feared what would happen if he passed - and he had to pass, didn’t he? The government wanted their toy soldier. Their weapon. If he didn’t pass this test . . . well, for Sherry, he wouldn’t let that happen. 

That meant there was only one path open to him. One that led straight towards the nightmares you’d kept at bay. Still, he didn’t want you worrying for him any more than you already were. 

“As I’ll ever be,” he answered, technically with the truth. 

“You’re ready,” you reassured him, surprising him with the certainty of the words. 

He gave you a little smile. “Not gonna tell me to stop worrying about everyone else and start worrying about myself?” 

“You gonna start listening?” 

He laughed at that, but as it faded, his look became more meaningful. “Wouldn’t have made it this far without you, you know.” He spoke because it was some truth that had been weighing on him, but you just shook your head. 

“Yes, you would’ve. You would have found a way to get where you needed to be.” 

Leon just swallowed, then, his lips pursing before he spoke again, quieter this time. “It wasn’t the sparring that kept me going.” 

Your eyes flashed, your lips parting. Whatever you were going to say, Leon could see it get stuck in your throat. He realized then that he’d pushed it too far, perhaps. That he was saying too much, even if it was all truth. When you didn’t respond to his admission right away, Leon just tilted his head in a shrug, trying to play off the awkward pause. “Sorry. Running my mouth a lot today.” 

“Just today?” You raised a brow, and he laughed. 

“Alright, most days.” You scoffed and shook your head, just as a sharp knock sounded on the barracks door. Time to go. “I’d tell you how it all goes when we get back, but-” you didn’t give Leon the chance to finish. 

“That would defeat the purpose of the test?” 

The two of you shared a knowing smile at the joke that felt older than it actually was.

“Have to keep things fair, don’t we?”

You hummed as you nodded, looking to the door, then the rest of your squad, and then back to Leon. “Go on,” you urged, nearly reaching for him before you stopped yourself. “Go kick ass.” 

Leon didn’t intend to refuse an order from you. 

So, he decided as he loaded his pack up with rations and everything else, as he and the others received their rifles - loaded with blanks, of course - and formed up in line under the street lamps one last time. Krauser and Hellman stood before them all, and Leon was glad that the agent stayed back to let the Major speak instead. 

“I’ve asked more from you all than any other instructor has in your careers,” he began, his gaze sweeping the line of ten before him. “And you all have met those demands. That is why you’re standing here today. You’ve found ways to overcome every obstacle that’s been thrown your way, and you’ll need to continue to do so because this world is going to ask more of you than it has of any other soldiers before. And even if soldiers aren't exactly what you’re going to be at the end of all this, you are all still some of the finest men and women I’ve been in command of.” Leon could feel the pride in those words, just as he felt the stab of a challenge as Krauser’s eyes met his. “Course, you’ve still got fifty-four hours to prove me wrong.” The Major gave a warning sign in the form of a smile. Trouble was, Leon didn’t fear that look. Not anymore. That was why he was able to return the expression, however faintly. Krauser tilted his chin up at the mirrored taunt, and Leon saw that smile grow.

Maybe he shouldn’t have played with that particular fire, because his own last name was burning at his ears a moment later. “Kennedy! Soto!” Krauser called, and Leon and Valeria both stepped forward. The two that Hellman wanted gone, that only stayed thanks to Krauser’s own intervention. “You two will be squad leaders during our little test.” Leon felt himself suck a breath in at that order, because he hadn’t expected it. “You will be responsible for the men under you. Their successes are your successes, their failures are your failures. Am I understood?” 

There was no room for argument. “Sir, yes sir!” 

Krauser nodded once. Gestured with his chin down the road that waited for them all. “Then stop wasting time and move out!” 

The squad obeyed without complaint, and so it began. The beginning of the end. 

Through the night, they marched, out of the base and into the hills and forest outside. Krauser and Hellman rode ahead in a truck, and a few other instructors remained with the squad for the march. There was little sound in those first few miles. Only the sounds of footsteps against the dirt path and the forest around them coming to life . . . but then . . . 

Williams started it. Humming softly one of the songs that had been on the radio the night before. One Leon recognized immediately. 

“Thought you hated the Spice Girls?” he grinned, looking over his shoulder at the tall woman. 

She just shrugged. “Maybe they’re growing on me.” 

He couldn’t help but smile at that, because it was almost a way for you to be here. Almost. He didn’t know he could be so sentimental about a soldier who’d given him more bruises than kisses . . . but here he was. The instructors along with the group didn’t seem to appreciate it when some of the other squad members joined in, singing along as the group traveled through the dark with just their flashlights to guide them. 

By the time morning came around properly, the songs had been stamped out in favor of birds and the forest around them stirring . . . and a sound that made Leon and the other nine recruits freeze in their tracks. A hissing-growl that Leon wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly, at first. 

It echoed through the trees, bouncing off the trees and setting ice forming in Leon’s blood. 

Because Leon knew that sound - he’d learned all too quickly in Raccoon City that answering that sound with one of his own would mean death. It would mean a skinless monstrosity with a maw of saw teeth and claws like butcher’s knives coming his way. Thanks to the reports Reed and Hellman had gone over with the squad, they knew too. Still, Leon raised a finger to his lips as he looked over at his comrades, his first command as squad leader delivered without words. 

Not a word . . . not a sound. 

Chapter Text

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

“Um. Breakfast?” You thought the answer was fairly obvious, given you were only a few feet from the mess hall doors. Still, Doc took the time to stop you and ask the question. 

The old man just shook his head. “No you’re not. I’m down an assistant today, need your help organizing. Just got a new shipment of supplies.” 

You wouldn’t be mad at that, actually. Anything to take your mind off the fact that you weren’t testing with the others . . . and you wouldn’t be mad that you likely wouldn’t have to eat the cardboard they passed off as food, either. Still . . . “Don’t think Reed will be okay with that,” you grumbled. 

“Well, Reed can kiss my ass.” Doc’s response was curt and made you smile, glad to know that yet another person on base shared your sentiment about the CIA agent. “Krauser already okayed it. Can’t pull you out of any drills proper, but I am gonna enlist you at mealtimes and in your off-hours. Need all the help I can get. My other assistants and I are gonna be rotating to shadow your squad up in the hills, in case something goes wrong.” 

“Like what?” you asked, because you couldn’t help but be curious about what it was you were missing out on. You couldn’t help but worry, just a bit. 

Doc just gave you a look. “Krauser makes good tests, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility that someone gets hurt in one of them.” 

That just pinched your brows together. “They’re not doing anything that crazy up there though, are they?” Your turn to ask an obvious question and get an obvious answer. 

“It’s Krauser.” 

“Fair point.” 

Doc chuckled, but his expression turned more reassuring soon after. “They’ll be tired by the end of it all, but no. Nothing too crazy.” 

Somehow, you didn’t quite believe him. 

⧫⧫⧫

Rifles rose slowly in the silence, the act of breathing itself coming to a halt. 

No noise. 

Not if they could help it. And as they were, on a gravel path and surrounded by woods on either side, standing still was the only way they really could manage that. 

Another shrill screech from up ahead, overpowering the sounds of birds waking up, and Leon felt an old dread shoot through his heart, and he worried that the beating of it was so loud that it could be heard by whatever was out there. 

Eyes up, gun up. Not that it would matter, really. It was loaded with blanks. That was what made Leon think it wasn’t actually a Licker waiting for them in those trees. Krauser and Hellman wouldn’t throw them against a BOW without arming them first, surely. 

Right? 

“What are you all waiting around for?” A familiar voice interrupted Leon’s thought process, and he felt himself relax as he looked to his side. Krauser stepped through the trees, wearing his usual warning-smile. “You’ve got places to be, soldiers. Only problem is . . .” another screech, and the Major’s crooked grin widened, “. . . you make a sound, you’re as good as dead.” 

The first test, then. 

“Move forward without drawing attention to yourselves,” Hellman said in simpler terms as he appeared at Krauser’s side. “Manage that, then your next challenge will be waiting for you.” 

Leon looked to his side, his gaze finding Valeria’s at once, a silent question shared between the two of them; how do you move ten people without making a sound? The answer was obvious enough; slowly. Still, it would be easier said than done, and likely not enough. They would move when the woods made noise to cover them, and if that was not enough . . . he had an idea in mind. So, Leon switched his rifle to one hand, and then bent down with as little noise as he could manage. He took a larger stone from the path, and nodded to Valeria as she did the same. Once they both were upright again, they gave a simultaneous signal with the hand, the group began advancing forward, heel to toe, trying to make as little noise as possible on the gravel path. 

They made it several feet amidst the shrieking and shrill cries echoing through the woods . . . but, of course, it wasn’t long before a footstep made noise, a rock slipping out from beneath a boot and skittering across the path. 

As soon as it happened, Leon held up a signal for them to halt, and just as Krauser opened his mouth to no doubt shout a reprimand, Leon hefted the stone in his hand. There was some noise as he threw it, but not nearly as much as when the rock impacted with a tree far off the path. It struck the bark hard, the sound scaring birds into flight. 

With the distraction, the group moved forward again on Leon’s command, stopping when the forest went quiet around them once more. With no words from Krauser suggesting otherwise, it seemed the plan worked. All that remained was to repeat it. So they moved, a group of ten moving carefully through the trees. It was as they moved, under the cover of well-timed distractions, that Leon almost broke the quiet with a huff of breath. An exasperated sigh as he looked through the trees and at last glimpsed what horror had been making the shrieking calls in the woods. Or, rather, lack of horror. After all, there were many things to be afraid of, but loudspeakers strapped to the trees were not on the list, as far as Leon was concerned. 

Leave it to Krauser to be good for a scare. 

So, as Valeria threw a stone of her own, creating another distraction, Leon glanced over at the man shadowing them, the one who, not so long ago, Leon had borne little but contempt for. 

The Major, many times in the past, had only looked annoyed or judgmental of Leon’s efforts. 

Now, Krauser just nodded his approval. 

A good start, then, but he knew . . .

⧫⧫⧫

“It’s not over yet,” your voice cut out across the training yard, but you weren’t sure the recruit you were speaking to believed you. After all, it was hard to believe that you could win a fight after your weapon had been taken from you. You also knew that fighting well in that moment was all the more important. “Keep your guard up,” you instructed. 

The recruit did as you ordered, looking from you to his opponent . . . to the agent watching from a distance. 

The agent who was otherwise occupied with his own set of recruits. Two who circled each other, following Reed’s instruction. The man never looked your way - not if he could help it. You couldn’t help but watch them too, because Reed never seemed to object when they went for blows to the face. He never seemed keen to discipline hits that, in basic training, would have gotten you a reprimand at best. 

Krauser had always believed in learning through the bruises you received, but still . . . 

The movement of the two recruits you were training snapped your attention back to them. “Come on, you know better,” you sighed, “bend your knees.” 

They obeyed, and blunted steel streaked through the air, traded blow for blow. 

“Keep your blade in front of you.” 

You wondered if Leon was fighting up at the test. 

“Switch hands more.” 

Was he doing well? 

“Smaller-” 

“Fuck!”

You looked just in time to see the recruit land, his feet finishing the arc through the air and the rest of him crashing into the dirt. Then came the cry of pain, the wide eyes of someone realizing something painful had just happened. The same young soldier who had helped you up after Reed kicked your ass not too long ago - Grayson. His opponent let go of the arm he’d used as leverage in an instant, realizing something had gone wrong. When the one on the ground tried to stand but yelped when he put weight on his arm, you felt something in you stir awake. 

When Reed made no move to stop or help, you were at the recruit’s side in a matter of moments. You ignored the apologies of his opponent, kneeling in the dust at Grayson's side.

“Can you move your arm?” you asked, but with the way it remained at the young man’s side, you doubted it. 

“No-”

“Then get yourself to the infirmary,” Reed commanded, his tone indifferent as ever. 

The tension of being left behind during the test had already put you in a bad mood, and here was the man responsible. One who had now just overseen the injury of another soldier. So, you didn’t reign in the gnashing remark that came from snarling lips. “You make a habit of getting your soldiers crippled?” you spat up as you helped Grayson to his feet. 

Reed’s shoulders rose and fell, almost imperceptibly. “I make a habit of making sure they’re capable fighters.” 

“Then don’t fucking let them break their bones before they even get to the front lines!” 

“Your Major has expressed that you be prepared-”

“Prepared for our own comrades to knock us out of the fight?”

“Prepared to show no mercy,” Reed hissed, stepping forward, more tense than you had ever seen him. “Take you, for example. If that Umbrella soldier had gone for your throat instead of your side, then you would be dead, and they would have one less enemy. But here you are.” His nostrils flared, and you swore you felt a thrum of pressure in your healed ribs as you stared him down, Grayson’s good arm still slung over your shoulder. “These men cannot afford to make the same mistake and let their enemies get back up.” 

Fury coiled in you, and if you hadn’t been holding on to the injured soldier at your side you might have struck. You might have gone for Reed’s throat then and there . . . but instead you just fixed him in a scathing glare. “But we aren’t the enemy,” you snarled, then turned on your heel, beginning to help Grayson towards the infirmary. 

The agent didn’t stop you, or even speak another word to you. He just issued his next order-

⧫⧫⧫

“Keep moving!” 

That was the best command Leon could give, one that was easier said than done. An obstacle course was something they’d done dozens of times now, even if this new one in the woods was set up differently than what they were used to. Even the cases of ammunition they now carried, they’d had to handle before. 

The hands reaching up for them, though . . . that was an added challenge. 

Krauser and Hellman wouldn’t release true bioweapons on them, but they would find ways to imitate the grasping hands and hungry teeth of the zombies of Raccoon City. The solution to that had been simple; anyone could become a bioweapon, and so the squad had been split, and Valeria’s half now walked just below Leon, their hands reaching up. 

The goal? 

For Leon’s men, it was to get through the course with at least one of the ammunition cases. For Valeria’s, it was to stop that from happening. And they certainly had the easier job of the two groups. 

Leon felt sweat sticking his hair to his forehead as he moved, taking the ammo case from Williams. There had been no reprieve since they started this morning, no real chance at a break. Now, the sun was beginning the second half of its arc in the sky and hunger and exhaustion were beginning to press in on him. 

Still, he had to press on. That was the only choice now, because it would be the only choice in the field. He knew that better than anyone. 

They were almost there. Almost to the end, if Valeria and her men had been doing everything they could to stop them from getting there. They’d been instructed to remain on the ground, to more accurately simulate the zombies that Leon’s report had spoken of in Raccoon City . . . but Valeria had never been one to play by the rules. So, Leon was hardly surprised when, even with how she and Dina felt about each other, Valeria shook her head and took a running jump, one of her men boosting her. 

Leon was sure she’d go for him. That she’d try to jump Leon to try and pull him down through the bars. He should have known better. He should have known that Valeria was more cunning than that. 

So, when Dina called out his name, nearly falling from the bars, Leon knew it was a ploy. He knew it was a distraction, in the back of his mind . . . but he moved anyway. 

The case nearly slipped from his grip as he lunged, his body caught awkwardly across the bars in a way he knew would leave bruises behind. Still, he caught Dina’s wrist just before the tall woman was yanked off the bars, holding on to her with one hand, and the case in the other . . . 

And fighting off the memories playing in his mind all the while. 

“Oh, fuck!” Williams cried, kicking her legs as Valeria tried to pull her down, and Leon grit his teeth. It was a test - a simulation. Still, he could think only of the last time he’d been in a position like this. When he hadn’t been strong enough, and the woman he’d been trying to save had slipped through his fingers . . . 

So, he strained with all his might, willing his arm to bend. Forcing himself to fight.

“The longer they hold you, the more likely you’ll get bit!” Krauser shouted a reminder, but Leon didn’t pay much attention.

His muscles had ached for days upon days, when Krauser started training him. He’d thought, at times, that he wouldn’t survive. That the feats the Major wanted him to carry out would never be possible. 

Now, he felt only awe at the strength he had as Dina freed herself from Valeria’s hold, and Leon lifted the woman with only one arm. 

Williams swore as she met Leon halfway, beginning to pull herself up . . . just in time for one of Valeria’s men to jump too, grasping the ammo case with both hands. In his distracted state, Leon’s eyes flashed as he realized he’d been played, and he and his half of the squad lost that portion of the test within a few feet of the end of it. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, helping Williams the rest of the way up all the same. 

Hellman watched from a distance, shaking his head. “You prioritized your team over the objective,” he accused. “Admirable, but it will cost your team a resupply.” That meant less ammo for whatever was to come . . . but honestly? Leon didn’t care. Not if his friend was safe, even if this was just a simulation of a dire situation. 

Krauser’s own thoughts on the matter were hidden behind a stern expression and an order to switch out, but Hellman’s disapproval was clear. Williams and Leon both seemed to share the same sentiment regarding that. 

“What a fucking-”

⧫⧫⧫

“- asshole.” 

As far as you were concerned, the word was a bit gentle when it came to describing Reed. Grayson could have called him infinitely worse, and you wouldn’t have blamed him, especially now that he was taking up the same position you’d been stuck in for weeks. 

When you’d dropped him off at the infirmary earlier, you’d been told by Doc to return to drills for the day. Now, though, dinner had come around and you’d returned to help as instructed. When you found out that Grayson had been sentenced to the sick bay because his arm had popped out of socket, you had felt a familiar rage in you.

Well, in truth, it had just been more gasoline to the fire that had been burning all day. 

Even if Reed hadn’t dealt the blow this time, another soldier was out of commission on his watch. And more than that . . .

“If that Umbrella soldier had gone for your throat instead of your side . . .” those words replayed in your mind over and over and over again. How could they not? How could you not fixate on that wounding remark? 

Especially when something about it just didn’t sit right with you . . .

“Asshole is putting it mildly,” Doc agreed, as he sifted through his supplies. Getting ready to switch out with his assistants in the mountains had him rushing to be ready - he hadn’t been expecting the injury he had to deal with today to be here rather than up with Krauser’s group. 

“You’re going to tell the Major, right?” you asked, because, frankly, you thought Krauser might kill Reed for this. You’d like to see that, you decided. 

“You bet your ass I will,” Doc nodded, shaking his head in a display of his frustration. “Bastard is gonna have the whole base crippled at this rate . . .” 

Yes, he would. 

Even Hellman had shown remorse about your injury, and about having to cut soldiers from the ranks, if Leon was to be believed. Reed, though, never seemed to care. To Reed, you were all disposable . . . 

But then, if he knew that Umbrella was responsible for your injury all those months ago . . . 

When had he read your file? 

Had it been before he was assigned here? Or after? Because if it was before . . . if Reed had known about your injury and still decided to strike you in the ribs anyway during the interrogation . . .

“Hey,” Doc pulled you from your thoughts, stepping closer. “I know I’m breaking my own rule here, but the kid’s gonna be stuck in the same boat you were.” He gave a sympathetic glance towards the bed where Grayson sat, and then looked back to you. “And sharing is caring and all that bullshit.” 

You knew what he meant, and you had to admit that some part of you felt better when you handed Grayson a slice of pizza - one of several that Doc had stocked you and his assistants with for the next few days. The recruit’s face lit up at the sight of food that wasn’t what they served in the mess hall, and the two of you ate in the quiet of the infirmary . . . and had some small amount of fun giving Reed scathing glares when he dropped off the opened mail the base received that day - one letter for Grayson that the agent had read and ensured was safe. 

Still, as much as offering Grayson company distracted you from the test you were missing out on . . . you couldn’t help the other questions that began to gnaw at you as Reed left. 

Questions like-

⧫⧫⧫

How the hell were they going to get through this? 

The goal was simple, really; get through the course, avoiding as many “casualties” as possible, and retrieve an ammunition case from inside the structure at the end. Eliminate the “targets” between them and their objective. And just like the entire rest of the day, from dawn to dusk and now continuing after dark, the problem was the course in front of them. 

There were flashes in the night sky, resounding booms and cracks of gunfire. Screams. 

None of it was real. That was what Leon had to remind himself. Like with the sounds of Lickers they’d played in the morning, none of this was real. Even so, that didn’t make it easier as he crawled on his belly, moving through mud and under razor wire with his nearly empty rifle in his hands. 

His squad was close, and that helped. It would have been better if you were there at his side, telling him to keep going . . . but he could practically hear your voice in his ear, even now. 

Tripwires were disabled, spats of mock-gunfire evaded, and Leon pushed his men on. “Come on,” he insisted, “we get to sleep a whole four hours after this,” he grinned, cracking the mud that had caked on his face. 

“Oh, what a relief!” Alejandro huffed at his side, but Leon could see the man’s smile when he looked over at him. 

It was those smiles that helped Leon to push forward, even as he heard Hellman’s voice call out a consequence for ducking into cover too late. “Garza's hit! You’re bleeding soldier!” 

Leon grimaced, because he knew what would come next. They’d been briefed on what to do if one of them was designated a casualty. The goal was to simulate evacuating the wounded from a battlefield, and Krauser and Hellman both had been adamant that whoever was pretending to be wounded play the part. Alejandro might have felt a bit ridiculous when he started screaming, but for Leon, the sound was plenty convincing. 

What was it that you told him your Captain used to say? If you can’t run, you crawl. If you can’t do that, you find someone to carry you. 

Leon gritted his teeth and finished the last segment of the course with Alejandro laying across his back, the added weight of another man pressing him further into the mud, making every inch all the more of a struggle. Still, he pressed on, right up until he and the others were up against the side of the building they needed to breach. The loss of the ammo case earlier had cost them a resupply, so after a quick ammo check, Leon ordered Williams to remain with Alejandro while he and Alenko went in to handle the targets. 

Gunfire still echoed through the night as he and Alenko stepped up to the door, looking first to each other and then reaching out.

⧫⧫⧫

There was a little click as the lock opened and you felt your heart lurch. 

This was stupid. This was so fucking stupid . . . but you’d been doing a lot of stupid things lately, hadn’t you? It wasn’t too late, you could just re-lock the door and go back to setting up triplines in the dark. You could . . . but you wouldn't. You’d come this far, and you had questions that needed answers.

You tried to take some relief in the irony of the situation. Reed and Hellman had taught you how to pick locks, and now that skill was being brought to bear against them. It was stupid, but it didn’t stop you from slinging your bag of springs and wires over your shoulder and reaching for the newly unlocked door. 

It didn’t stop you because the entire day - hell, since you met them through the bars of a jail cell - you had felt something wrong about the CIA agents sent to oversee training. Perhaps it was just paranoia. Perhaps it was the fact that Reed had broken your bones. Either way, you found yourself moving into a dark office that night; one you absolutely should not have been in. 

Reed’s office held few answers. You found no personal effects, really, just the pile of mail that the agent had sorted through before delivering it to the rest of the base, an small and empty box that he’d no doubt confiscated. 

You picked the secondary lock on his desk with nervous hands, eyes glancing around all the while, and for a few moments, you skimmed through the reports you found inside in the light pouring in from the streetlights outside. 

𝚂𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝: (𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎)

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖: █.█.

𝙼𝚢 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚜 ███████ ██████, 𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚄𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙸’𝚖 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔, 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚒𝚗 ███████ 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝. 

The same report Krauser had given you - you’d almost memorized it, you’d read it so many times. You didn’t have such a luxury now - every second you spent in here was another second you were at risk of being court martialed. Still, you had to know. You had to know what they knew. 

You didn’t have much time to sift through it all and read each report. You could only skim, hoping that something would stick out as different . . . 

And your eyes widened in the dark when you found that something.