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The concrete was cold against his shoulder and his cheek. At first, he didn’t feel anything, but then the pain kicked in all at once. He took in a breath through his teeth, screwing his eyes shut tight. Today, just one day, he had suffered all manner of blows: giant fists to the face, more bites and scratches and bruises than he could count. He had been choked, thrown, almost ravaged by undead dogs. He had fallen from ladders, caught on fire, been clawed at by vicious monsters. Leon S. Kennedy was fresh out of the academy. He had never been shot. It’s fine. I’ve had worse. A lie. But he had told Ada to go . He had to deal with this on his own. It’s… fine… But he knew he wouldn’t be able to muster the strength to take care of this, he was already fading in and out from the shock.
Someone knelt down, lifting him into a sitting position by his tactical vest and leaning him back against the cement wall behind him. “Leon… Leon.” Things were fuzzy… his vision, his hearing. He couldn’t tell if it was from pain, shock, or loss of blood. But the pain was intense, nothing he had felt before… his shoulder throbbing, blood slicking his arm. A soft hand pressed against his cheek. “Listen to me, I need your help. We have to get this off you so I can stop the bleeding.”
He tried to blink away the blurriness, meeting her eyes. She was so calm and collected, even now. “I told you…” he groaned, “To go after her…”
“Not until you're stable, rookie,” Ada said. He could hear her now, quickly unclipping his tactical vest. She had asked for help, but he was being completely useless. His chest hurt, and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. Panic started to build up within him. So much blood… there was… so much blood. “Leon, listen to me,” Ada said, more urgently, “You’re going into shock. I need you to stay with me, okay?”
He couldn’t answer. He was trembling, everything felt cold.
“Hey!" She grabbed his chin so she could look him in the eyes, "Okay?” He nodded once, shaking as she yanked off his tactical vest. Pain shot through his shoulder, radiating to his neck and down his arm. He let out a yell, reaching to clutch his injury, staining his hand red. Ada was already working on his uniform, unbuttoning his shirt, to reveal his gray long sleeves. Now he could see how bad it really was. His final layer was soaked in red, like watercolor spreading across paper. Nausea rolled over him with another involuntary tremble.
Ada practically cut away his shirt, tearing it with her knife into long strips, yanking off his elbow pads, and then taking one of his gray sleeves, and pressing it hard against his shoulder as she dug in his pouches for the first aid supplies he had collected. Leon let out another yell as her hand pressed against the injury, his whole body tensing through the pain, knees lifting, his hand clutching at Ada’s coat. He bit down, clenching his jaw, trying not to kick his legs before Ada finally let up, selecting a spray from his kit.
The moment the spray touched the bullet wound, pain like fire burned through Leon’s arm. His eyes rolled back and for what seemed like only a moment he drifted between consciousness and the darkness beyond. But it must have been much longer, because when he came to, Ada was already finishing the last tie on the bandages she had made from his shirt. She was close to him, her knees pressed against his thigh as she gently buttoned his police shirt once more, letting out a soft sigh. Her hands were warm against his chest, and she was focused on the task at hand, not caring whether or not he was conscious.
He realized then that this was the first time he had seen her eyes. Green eyes, framed by her neat, dark raven hair. She was beautiful. For one moment, he let himself imagine that none of these awful things were happening, that he was safe and warm, and that they were meeting under different circumstances. The thought faded as she pulled on his tactical vest, jostling his shoulder and jolting him awake with pain.
“There,” she said, finishing with the last buckle and patting his chest, “Now, you need rest.” For just a moment her expression softened and she reached out, gently brushing his hair away from his eyes.
“Ada…” he groaned, “You… shouldn’t have stayed—”
“Don’t worry about that,” Ada snapped, “You saved my life , Leon. I was just returning the favor.”
“What about all those other times you saved mine?” Leon chuckled. His voice sounded hoarse, and his mind was sluggish. "I thought it was 'getting old.'"
Ada smiled a little, her expression becoming so warm and welcoming as their eyes met again. "Mm... let's just say, you're growing on me." Leon's shoulder was still throbbing and he grimaced. He was trembling… from cold? Shock? “Here…” Ada pulled off her coat, gently draping it over his shoulders. “This is a safe area. You should rest. I’ll go after Annette.”
Leon let out a soft breath and nodded once as if relenting… for now. He would rest, only because he could barely keep his eyes open. “Has anyone told you, Ada?” He asked, drifting off to sleep. Shock and pain were still making his mind foggy.
“Told me what?” Ada frowned, rising to her feet, her heels tapping on the cold concrete beneath them.
Leon closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the cement wall, “You have really pretty eyes.” And then he was out.