Chapter Text
Before
------
When Leon first heard of a sign of Emmelyn’s whereabouts, he didn’t know what to think.
The lead had come from a low-level operative he encountered one night as he was drowning his sorrows at his desk. While doomscrolling through a dark web forum, he encountered a post about a supply shipment moving through DC. It was a foolish mistake and Leon, always on the lookout for any scrap of information, jumped at the chance. The very next day, he assembled a team and intercepted the shipment, successfully capturing the operative and bringing him back to HQ for questioning.
Fortunately, the man cracked under pressure and revealed crucial details. They discovered the organization was called Serpent, marked by a twisted emblem on his jacket—a three-headed snake.
It reminded Leon of the hydra from mythology. According to legend, if you cut off one of its heads, three more would sprout in its place. The metaphor felt appropriate for them, as they were quickly growing notorious for their ability to evade capture and rebuild after any destruction. They were elusive, always one step ahead, making it all the more critical for Leon to find Emmelyn before they vanished again.
After the other agents finished extracting information about Serpent’s operations, detailing what little he knew of their movements and safe houses, it was finally Leon’s turn to interrogate the operative about Emmelyn. He felt a knot tightening in his stomach as he prepared to ask about her whereabouts. His hands shook. Each moment spent waiting felt like an eternity, intensifying his anxiety.
The thought of her being out there, in pain and afraid, spurred him on. The door creaked as he entered the dimly lit room where the man sat, looking defeated but still defiant. Leon sat in the chair in front of him, the dark light of the interrogation room casting shadows over his face. He crossed his arms over his chest as he looked him over.
The operative was thin and young, likely barely over 20. He had dark hair, tan skin, and a rugged but dirty appearance. His wrists were cuffed to the table and he hung his head, likely aware by now that his future would be spent behind bars. Charges of treason and terrorism usually meant extended jail time, with little hope of seeing the outside world again.
Leon leaned forward, sliding a photo across the table so it landed directly in the operative’s line of sight. “Have you seen this woman?” he asked, his voice low and steady as he waited for a response.
He tried to temper his expectations; all his previous leads had only given him dead ends. No one seemed to know anything or want to talk, no matter how they coerced them. But this guy was younger, more prideful, and something about this moment felt different than the rest.
The young man stared at the photo, his brown eyes vacant and unfocused. It seemed to take him a moment to process what he was seeing, likely still shaken from the grueling five-hour interrogation he had just endured. To Leon’s surprise, a laugh bubbled up from the operative as he registered Emmelyn’s image.
“This bitch?” the young man chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned back in his seat. “I don't get it. What's so special about her?”
Leon clenched his fists, struggling to suppress the urge to lash out at the disrespect toward his partner. “That’s not your concern,” he replied, his voice sharp. Fatigue was weighing heavily on him, and weeks of frustration were beginning to boil over. “Just tell me. Have you seen her?”
The terrorist gave a chuckle, licking his lips and shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe,” he repeated, giving Leon a defiant smile. “But sorry, I don’t kiss and tell.”
Leon’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion for a moment. Then a surge of white-hot anger coursed through him as he processed the operative’s words. He sprang up from his seat, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as his heart raced in his chest. “What the hell does that mean?” he hissed, hands slamming on the table in front of him.
He was typically stoic; calm, and composed, known for keeping his emotions tightly in check and acting with reason. But three weeks without his best friend, of sleepless nights, meager meals and excessive drinking, had shifted that balance. Now, his anger was on a tight leash, and he found it hard to rein himself in—especially when it involved her. “I’m going to ask you one more time.” He ground out. “Have. You. Seen. Her.”
The bastard in front of him paused, a little surprised at the outburst. Then he laughed, short and cruel, as he looked at the photo again. “Yeah, I have,” he began, glaring up at Leon through his dark bangs. “In fact, there isn’t anybody from Serpent on this side of the country that hasn’t seen her yet.” He said, words laced with a sick sense of male satisfaction.
Leon felt his breaths quicken, his heart leaping in his chest. Someone had seen her. Finally, he was getting a sign of his partner. It’d been weeks and weeks of nothing. But finally, he could allow himself to hope.
But then he froze, taking a few seconds to process what was said to him. The realization hit him like a wave. His mouth went dry, hands shaking with fury at the implication in his words. In a swift motion, he surged forward and seized a fistful of the operative’s shirt, pulling his face towards him over the table.
“ Where is she ?’ he growled, lips twisted in a snarl. At the man’s hesitance, he gripped him tighter, dragging him closer. “You’d better start talking,” he warned, his voice cold and filled with rage. “Or I’ll make sure you don’t even make it to see prison.”
The man’s unease at Leon’s actions was evident, yet he let out another weak laugh. “Touchy… but fine,” he muttered, clinging to his bravado despite the situation. “But you gotta put me down first.”
Leon stood there for a second, breathing through the rush of hatred he felt. After he agreed, he relented, unceremoniously dropping him back into his chair.
The man landed with an oomf , a small, twisted smile playing on his lips as his handcuffs clanged against the table. “She’s being held in one of our warehouses, south of Virginia,” he admitted, glaring at the agent across from him. “And I’m only telling you this because we’re about to abandon the place, anyways… and her as well”. He let out a breathy chuckle, ”She’s… reaching her expiration date.”
Leon felt that anger surge through his veins again along with a sense of dread. Expiration date? He resisted the urge to grab him again, his fists clenching so hard at his sides that his knuckles turned white. “What the hell does that mean?” He hissed, his whole body tensing. Scenarios flowed through his mind, each one worse than the last, and he felt his stomach twist. “What did you bastards do to her?!”
The man in front of him sighed, slumping back in his seat and shaking his head. “You’ll have to find out for yourself,” he said matter-of-factly. “And I suggest you do it sooner rather than later. People can only go so long without food or water, you know.”
Leon felt his heart drop into his stomach, the implication of his words making him sick. They were starving her? Fuck.
He knew he wasn't going to get any further with this guy. Pushing back the urge to knock him out, Leon stood up, tension coiling in his muscles. He grabbed Emmelyn’s photo from the table, turning to leave. His mind raced with plans to track down the warehouse and find her before it was too late.
Just as he reached for the door, the operative called out, halting him in his tracks. “You’re really betting it all on a lost cause,” the man jeered, and Leon could hear the smirk in his voice. “Hope you’re ready for disappointment.”
Leon stood there, gripping the doorknob tightly. As much as he wanted to push for more, to beat him to a pulp for the things he said about his partner, he couldn’t allow this asshole’s taunts to derail him; Emmelyn’s life ticked away with each second that passed on the clock.
Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself, forcing aside the anger and doubt that threatened to overwhelm him. He had to remember what was at stake- failure was simply not an option.
He left the room, not dignifying that last comment with a response. When he woke up this morning, he still had that pit in his stomach that he’d had for weeks. But now, he was getting somewhere. Finally he would find her. He just hoped he'd make it in time.
------
Now
------
When he first stepped into the warehouse, Leon couldn't shake the disbelief that Emmelyn was actually here. It was dark, and the lights inside barely worked. Everything was dirty and run down, the walls rusting and old, and the smell of mildew lingered in the air. The space felt nearly abandoned. Each room he went into was mostly bare, with only a few scattered bits of ammo and equipment hinting that Serpent had ever been there. He was nervous that he was too late, that they moved her or worse. But he stuck to his guns and let his training kick in, searching the building with increasing trepidation.
He spent what felt like an eternity navigating through the almost empty halls until he finally found something. He stood in front of the only sealed door in the entire warehouse, furthest away from the entrance. It was metal, with wooden boards nailed to the outside, keeping it shut.
His heart beat rapidly in his chest. Did they seal her in here? Trap her for no one to find? He hoped the intel he got was good because if he walked away with nothing, he didn't know what he was going to do.
He tried not to let himself think about the worst case scenario as he rushed to open it. He found a screwdriver in another room and used it to pry the nails out from the boards, ripping them down when enough of them were free. The door was sealed further with a large padlock, but that was no problem for Leon. In a matter of minutes he picked it, throwing it aside and turning the handle.
Leon slowly pushed the door open, the sound of the metal bottom scraping on the concrete floor filling his ears. He stepped inside, recoiling slightly at the smell. Blood, sweat, vomit, and something else he couldn’t name but equally repulsive. He started to look around before he stopped in his tracks.
His surroundings were only lit by a few hanging bulbs, but he could clearly see what was in front of him. A woman was laid out on a metal table in the middle of the room, her limbs spread out to each corner, secured by metal handcuffs.
He looked closer and felt his breath get punched from his lungs. It wasn't just any woman.
It was his partner.
“Shit, Emmelyn…” He whispered, his mouth going dry as he inched closer. She was… so thin. Emaciated. He could faintly see the outlines of her joints and ribs through her skin, even from where he stood. They starved her, just as the operative had said. He felt sick as he got a better view of her..
Almost her entire body was exposed, the clothes and gear he last saw her in long gone. Instead she wore what looked to be a white nightgown, stained and dirty and almost falling off of her. He stepped closer, unsure if she was even breathing at this point.
“Oh my god…”
His voice left him in a broken whisper, his heart cracking in his chest as he looked her over. She was bound tightly, her wrists and ankles heavily chafed and bleeding from the metal cuffs digging into her skin. Two of her fingers were bent in odd angles, broken and healing improperly. Her hair was a matted mess, a cloth gag shoved into her mouth, tear tracks stained on her dirty, sunken cheeks. And the bruises,,,
He reached a hand out without thinking, touching her shoulder lightly. She recoiled, whimpering weakly through the gag, her body starting to tremble against the table. He felt a rush of relief at her movement, grateful that she was alive.
However he felt like an idiot for doing that. He muttered an apology, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. After a brief pause, he reached out again, this time towards the gag in her mouth, his hand more careful and slow.
She recoiled once more, and he whispered what he hoped were comforting words as he gently removed the gag, giving her space to breathe. But instead of calming her body trembled harder, and she looked up at him with eyes that barely seemed like hers- so filled with grief and terror it nearly knocked the wind out of him.
“P-Please…” He heard her croak before he could say anything, his eyes locked on hers still. He froze, holding his breath, waiting for her to speak again. But what she said made his heart sink into his stomach.
"Please k-kill me…” She sobbed out, a stray tear leaking from her eye. “Please...”
He visibly flinched, feeling his eyes sting. His partner, his feisty, courageous friend was begging for him to… to kill her? He felt the room sway, having to take a second to remember how to breathe. He opened his mouth after a moment, his chest tight.
“God, Emmelyn, I’m… I’m not gonna do that.” He said, his voice pained and low. What could have been done to her, to make her beg for her own death like that? It felt like his heart was breaking.
He leaned in closer, trying to make her see him, trying to remind her that he was there. But she only mumbled desperate pleas for him to go away, to not touch her.
A cold wave of dread washed over him, the fear in her voice ringing alarm bells in his head. The idea that anyone near her could trigger that kind of terror made his gut twist. He spoke to her, trying to break through, to get her to realize who he was.
At first, she didn’t believe him. He expected that, given how deeply traumatized she was acting, but it still hit him hard. She kept repeating a course of "no," and "don't," her voice trembling with fear. Every word she said, every instinct to pull away crushed him. He couldn’t have her scared of him—not now. If she fought against him, it would make everything harder. But more than that, seeing her like this, so broken and afraid, hurt him more than he could bear.
Eventually he got her to look at him, a glimmer of recognition settling in her gaze, and he breathed a sigh of relief. She whispered his name, and his heart soared at the familiar sound. “Yeah, Ems... It's me. It's Leon,” he murmured back to her, a small smile gracing his features, trying to reassure her.
Emmelyn began to cry in earnest now. The sound was weak and hoarse, pitiful, and it made his hands shake as he reached to unlock the metal cuffs around her wrists and ankles. He whispered soothing words to her, reminding her to breathe, that he was there, that she was going home.
A stab of grief went through him as the noises filled the room. He’d never heard her cry before. She’d always been so strong, so resilient. And now…. He shook his head. There was no time for him to get emotional too. He had to get her out of there.
With her permission he eventually coaxed her into a sitting position, her dress slightly rolling up at the motion. A flash of crimson caught his eye and he panicked, freezing completely as he held her upright.
“Shit, You're-!" he gasped, his voice breaking off with a choked sound once he saw the source of the bleeding.
His eyes wandered over her lap, frozen in place. Blood coated her inner thighs, both wet and dry, staining her skin in different shades of red. Her legs were covered in bruises, the most prominent ones near her hips, and he could make out the shape of them under all the dirt and grime.
Hands. They were shaped like hands.
His stomach rolled with nausea, realization hitting him in a wave. “Oh, god... Emmelyn..” He whispered brokenly, his shoulders beginning to shake with grief and rage. It all made sense now, his worst fears coming true.
They raped her. And from the look of it, not just once.
His chest rose and fell quickly as his eyes moved over her body. The evidence was stark, right in front of him, and he didn't know how he didn’t notice it before.
Finger-shaped bruises marked her wrists and arms, traveling up to her shoulders and neck. More blood was smeared across her skin and dress, mixed with dried fluids that churned his stomach. He saw the hickeys, the bite marks- vile, unmistakable proof of what she’d endured.
She’d been tortured, brutalized, trapped for weeks. Used like a plaything by who knew how many depraved monsters. A violent, bloodthirsty anger pulsed under his skin, his grip on her shoulders tightening slightly as he fought to keep his composure.
Emmelyn must have noticed his reaction. Her breath hitched in her chest as she croaked out his name, her voice snapping him out of his stupor slightly.
“L-Leon…” She whispered. “Th-they…. They…” She cut herself off with a whimper.
It was so out of character for her to sound like this, and it broke his heart. He quickly shushed her, knowing the admission was too raw and great to be spoken aloud,
"Shh, I know," he said, his voice tight, the words heavy as he met her tear-filled gaze. A wave of guilt crashed over him, sharp and unrelenting. He was furious with himself for not being able to stop this, for failing to protect her. "Fuck, I know."
But he couldn’t afford to get lost in his own remorse. Not now. He had to get her out of there, and had to get her somewhere safe.
Leon didn’t wait any longer. His arms slid around her fragile body, one hand on her back and the other under her knees, lifting her off the table effortlessly.
Her face twisted in pain, her body instinctively fighting against him as he held her. But he murmured soft words in her ear, promising her that it was him, that she was safe, and she eventually stilled against him. Good. Now they could get out of there,
With a grunt, he turned and moved swiftly toward the exit, cradling her against his chest. The warehouse felt colder now, the urgency of the situation pressing down on him. He kept an eye on her as he moved, trying to keep her conscious, though he could see the exhaustion in her eyes. She was fighting it for now, but it was a losing battle.
He found the exit and broke into a run, radioing Hunnigan the moment he was out of the building.
"Condor 1 to Roost," he breathed as he pushed through the trees, each step urgent. "Condor 2 is secured. Heading to the EVAC point now."
Hunnigan’s voice crackled through the comms, relief palpable in her words. "Thank God. Sending a chopper your way. What’s her condition?"
He looked down at Emmelyn, her head slumped against his chest, her breathing shallow and erratic. "Bad," he said, his jaw tight. "Requesting medical assistance. Now."
A sharp curse came through the radio. "Understood. A medical team is on standby. They’ll stabilize her until you reach the hospital. Stay safe, Condor 1."
Leon didn’t say anything as the connection cut off, his focus solely on moving as quickly as he could. The woods surrounding the warehouse offered some cover, the darkness helping to shield him as he pressed forward. The thought of what she’d been through gnawed at him, but he tried to focus on the path in front of him. He could lament and rage later. The only thing that mattered now was getting her to safety.
He panted as he ran, cursing under his breath when Emmelyn’s limp body slipped further into unconsciousness. He couldn’t slow down to check on her. Not now. The extraction point was still too far, and he needed to get there as fast as possible for her to have a chance.
His gaze kept flicking to the blood staining her torn shift as he made his way through the brush. It soaked through the thin material, a dark crimson spreading across her inner thighs. She was still bleeding, whatever wound inside there was most likely still fresh.
The sight ripped at him, the evidence of her torment feeling like a dagger in his chest. This was his partner, his partner , used and broken like this. Leon was no stranger to the cruelty of the world, but this… this was a new low.
After what felt like an eternity, he broke through the trees and into a clearing. This was it, the EVAC point. The sound of helicopter blades reached his ears, a distant but unmistakable shuddering that sent a wave of relief coursing through him.
He stood there, catching his breath, the slight weight of Emmelyn in his arms. He lowered his head to make sure she was still breathing, panic racing through him for a moment. But his heart skipped a beat when he heard the sound of her breaths, weak- but steady. He sighed in relief, the feeling slightly bitter as it mixed with the fear that still gnawed at him.
"You're gonna be okay," Leon whispered, trying to reassure them both. He didn’t know what he would do if she wasn’t. He held her tighter against him, as if his touch could somehow anchor her to this moment. The helicopter was close now, he just had to hold on a little longer.
His mind raced as he waited, replaying everything that had happened- the sight of her on that table, alone in that room, waiting and begging for death. He shook the thoughts away, staying focused on the woman in his arms. None of that mattered right now.
What did matter was getting her help, getting her home. It was his duty as her partner, as her friend. He had promised to protect her, and damn it, he wasn’t going to fail her again. She was going to be okay. She had to be. He wouldn’t let himself think of the alternative.
The helicopter was almost overhead now, the trees ruffling in the wind from its blades, the engine's roar growing louder. His grip on her tightened as he looked down at her pale, battered face, the remnants of her pain still visible in every line of her features.
She was in bad shape, but she was still breathing. For now, that was enough. He had to believe so, for both their sakes.