Chapter Text
Leon patrolled the ever-dark streets of the small town that had become… not home, but something like it maybe. It wasn’t home, but it wasn’t truly a prison either. Some days Traverse Town felt like a test—if he could protect it, if he could save it, he could be good enough to go home.
He was one of the few able to protect it and it’s displaced citizens, and so he must.
He cleaned up around the hotel first, as he always did, taking extra care in the alley behind it. There were less heartless than usual, and he cut through them quickly, working fast and covering ground even faster.
He stopped, panting with the effort, and surveyed the quiet district. There were no swarms, no buzz in the air of anticipation and heartless waiting in the shadows to attack, no sounds of heartless rooting at doorways.
There was nothing but eerie silence.
Warily he straightened out of a defensive stance, and circled his way up the stairs and in front of the shops. Every store, every house, was closed up tight in anticipation of the influx of heartless that usually appeared this late at night.
The first district was just as quiet—safe. The only movement came from the dim light of scattered light poles and the outline of Cid in his workshop.
He gripped his gunblade more securely, unease mounting sour in his stomach. An anomaly of this scale usually meant something big; something big usually meant Sora’s area; Sora wasn’t here, just him.
He squared his shoulders and pushed open the doors to the third district.
He inhaled sharp, but quiet after years of training, at the heaving mass of heartless skittering frantic, drawn to some spark of light. He slashed through several at a time, managing to dodge most counterattacks but still gathering small scrapes and cuts. Fewer than expected, when they weren’t focused on him.
Why weren’t they focusing on him?
He bounded up the stairs and around the corner and skidded to a halt at the blur of gray, the slash of color that cut through the heartless, never stopping.
Not a person, but taking out the heartless nevertheless.
Another shadow heartless turned to smoke and drifted away, two more after that, another.
The shape stopped moving and crouched low, a deep guttural sound emanating from it as it watched the endless trickle of heartless. It hunched perfectly still, watching a pair of yellow floating heartless, head slowly mimicking their swaying.
Another heartless? An animal for sure, but Leon couldn’t tell its origin. Definitely canine, covered in dark gray fur, matted with filth and blood.
Blood?
Heartless didn’t bleed.
Suddenly it sprung, fast and agile, and jumped to use the cobblestone wall as leverage, long paws kicking off and snatching a heartless out of the air.
It turned to black smoke between its teeth.
That’s all he could watch, having to fight his own share of the heartless as they swarmed and pressed in from all sides.
This was the fight he was looking for, these were the numbers he was expecting, and despite the unease at the unknown creature (wolf? Dog? There weren’t dogs here,) he settled into the familiar routine of combat like a comfort. This was known and he cleared the rest of the area with practiced efficiency.
He found himself close to the dog again, and then it turned on him, leaping forward.
Leon swung just in time to block it. Instead of cutting through the animal, instead of making it back off, it caught his blade between its teeth, whining but pushing back. It tugged, yanked, and Leon had to step into it and into a front roll before he was disarmed by a damn animal.
He righted himself behind the dog, but it’d already turned, facing him again, just as quick. It didn’t attack again, just watched him.
Not a dog.
A wolf. Probably. It was too tall, too lanky, too feral to be a dog saved from some crumbling world. Only probably, because it didn’t have clear eyes, but a pair that were glazed over blue and bright, like magic.
Leon grimaced and readjusted his grip, his stance, his morals—it might not be a heartless (might be a new kind), but it was dangerous, and he couldn’t have that.
He took a measured step forward, a feint.
The creature tensed, muscle coiled and ears pressed back flat. It didn’t take the bait.
Leon took another step.
The creature sank down, shifting back as it growled low, a warning as much as preparation to spring at him.
It didn’t. It took several steps back without breaking the unnerving stare. It turned, just enough to leave down the opposite set of stairs, and Leon noticed the gash in its hind leg, favoring it, blood darkening and clotting at the edges beneath ragged fur.
Leon weighed his options, considered, but by the time he moved as if to follow, the wolf had spun and hurried down the stairs and out of sight, quiet as a whisper, a soft displacement of rubble the only evidence of which way it’d gone.
He hurried to follow, but when he turned the corner it was gone. Like a ghost.
He did another circuit of the district for enemies, found none, and couldn’t understand why the creature was going to such lengths to eradicate all the heartless itself. It had several chances for escape, and yet stood its ground.
He sighed and rubbed at the scar over his nose, and tried to put it out of his mind. He was already working much later than he should, and there nothing he could do about it tonight.
He enjoyed the rare quiet on his trek back to the hotel, exhausted and grateful for the momentary reprieve, and let himself into his room. He paused, taking in both of the girls fast asleep across his bed. Again. His chest did something tight and complicated and he made himself look away, laying his gunblade across the table and his jacket over the back of his chair, quieter than he might’ve otherwise.
Aerith shifted and roused, pushing herself on one hand as she yawned, rubbing at her eyes.
“You’re late.”
“Stuff to take care of,” he said.
“We waited, to make sure you were alright.”
“I can see.” He didn’t look at her, her soft tone sounding like tiptoeing around a bomb and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Some days it pissed him off, some days he was quietly grateful for her care and kindness. He was too tired and strung out to figure out which it was tonight.
He sat at the table and disassembled his weapon, setting each piece carefully in order and then picking them up again to clean meticulously, the same steps and process each time. It gave order and stability to his endless days, something he always knew how to do.
He could feel Aerith’s gaze on him, but didn’t turn to address her.
She sighed.
He kept at his task, the only thing that never changed.
“Are you okay?” she finally asked.
“Are any of us?” he snapped back. He felt bad immediately, but didn’t take it back.
She didn’t sigh again.
He put his gunblade back together, reloading it with a different set of specialized bullets. Maybe elemental magic would keep the heartless dispersed for longer.
He shoved the last bullet in harder than he needed to. “I can’t keep them down,” he said. “I can kill them, but not for long, not long enough, they just, Aerith, they just keep coming back and I can’t do anything about it. People keep getting hurt and I can’t…” It dissolved into wordless frustration.
“Sora will lock the world,” she said. The covers rustled behind him as she scooted closer. “Sora will beat back the darkness, I just know it.”
“I shouldn’t have to rely on a child,” he said. He didn’t realize he’d hit the table until he heard Yuffie sit up with a disoriented gasp.
He turned in his chair, jaw set, and felt bad about that too.
Yuffie was looking at him blearily, her headband askew. “Squall?”
Leon sighed harsh—that was the last thing he needed right now, just another reminder of how he wasn’t good enough.
“I’m going out,” he said, standing up in a huff and near throwing the chair back under the table.
“But you just—Leon, you just got back,” Aerith protested. “You’re exhausted, you’re going to get yourself hurt.” Her eyes skipped down to his arms, his hip where his shirt had ridden up. “More than you already are. Come here, let me help.”
“Go back to sleep.”
“You don’t have to shoulder all this alone,” Aerith said, tone firming in frustration.
Leon didn’t say anything, just locked the door tight behind him, knowing they’d be safe here at least.
To his credit, Cid took one look at Leon’s expression when he came into the workshop, and handed him a marker. Ordered gruff, “Help me organize all these damn gummi parts. I swear, those moogle don’t know how to alphabetize to save th’r life.”
Leon nodded and got to work. And later, when his eyes wouldn’t stay open, let Cid banish him toward the shop couch.
Leon started paying attention when Yuffie lurched forward with her fingers extended and hooked, miming claws. He opened his eyes fully and straightened from where he was leaning against the hearth in Cid’s shop. He hadn’t managed a lot of sleep, but this was familiar enough to rouse him.
“And he was vicious, ripping apart the heartless left and right!” Yuffie finished her story by chomping her teeth, mimicking snarls as she jumped onto the couch.
“The wolf,” he said.
She whirled around, expression slack. “What—Leon, you saw him too?”
He nodded, sharing a brief glance with Aerith, acknowledging her concern. He was concerned too. “Third district.”
Yuffie dropped down to her knees, bouncing on the cushion and draping herself over the back of it to look at him. “I knew it! He’s so cool, he’s—“
“Dangerous,” Leon finished for her.
“Leon’s right,” Cid said, looking thoughtful even as he worked behind the counter. “You leave that animal alone until we know more about it.”
“But, Cid,” Yuffie whined, “he was hurt. Real bad.”
Leon nodded. “Yeah, back leg.” Didn’t mean he was considering doing anything about it.
“No, no, it’s worse. He’s all torn up, here,” as she gestured over her side. Her voice dropped, distressed, “Leon… he looked really bad.”
Aerith exhaled in an audible rush, turning her eyes on him. Leon’s stomach sank, foreboding and resigned. They had these moments sometimes: having spent so much time clustered close he’d learned to read them as well as they, frustratingly, him. He thought this is what it must be like with sisters; the complicated snarl of emotions waring in his chest, wanting to be firm, wanting to protect them even if it upset them, wanting to bend to their whims.
Leon made the mistake of looking back to Yuffie, who could sense a foolish inch she could take for the mile.
“Lee, we gotta do something,” she pleaded. Her eyes went wide and round, her lips pulling down. “He can’t be all bad, right? Fighting the heartless? That’s what we’re doing, we could use the help—he could use our help.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” he said. Choking back, I don’t need its help.
She shrugged, loose limbed. “We don’t know anything about him and we won’t unless we investigate, right? We don’t know he’s a threat, and we won’t if we keep hiding from him.”
“I’m not hiding,” Leon snapped, dropping his folded arms to take a step at her, challenging. He knew immediately he’d lost.
“It’s a small world,” Aerith added, leading and almost musical.
Leon swung a look at Cid, who put his hands up in the air. “Your call, son, ‘m not gettin’ pulled into this.”
After a moment as quiet as it was tense, Leon exhaled harshly through his nose. “What would we even do with a wild animal?” he asked, gesturing at the small shop, gesturing between he four of them. “Huh?
“Not keepin’ it here,” Cid bit out firmly. “Don’t even think ‘bout it. It’ll scare away all my customers.”
Leon snorted, and took a pointed look around the otherwise empty shop. “Think Sora’s doing most of the buying these days, and he won’t be scared.”
“He’ll probably want to pet it,” Aerith said, laughing behind one slim hand.
“Not the point, not on the table,” Cid said. He thumped a heavy tome on the counter to close the matter. “Y’er gonna keep it in the motel if you manage to pick it up.”
“Mine,” Leon said. Because there was no way in hell he was allowing it to be in the vicinity of the girls when he couldn’t be there.
He realized his mistake almost immediately, but not fast enough to take it back.
Yuffie was beaming. “Really?”
“No, no that’s not—“
“Oh Leon, you’re the best.” She all but threw herself off the couch and against his chest. It happened so fast he couldn’t do anything except catch her, chest tightening at the tightening of her arms.
He looked to Aerith for help, but she just offered him a bittersweet smile and a helpless shrug, her eyes dancing with mirth. She was just as relieved, and he felt his resolve crumbling.
He would make it work.
He sighed, carefully brought his hands up to Yuffie’s shoulders to squeeze before gently pushing her back. “We’ll try. I’m not going to get us killed trying to help a wild animal, which may or may not be a heartless all along.” He did not voice the very real possibility that they might have to put it down, but at least Aerith was looking at him like she heard it anyway.
“Doesn’t look like one,” Yuffie sang, rocking on her heels. She took Leon’s hands and pulled him toward the door. “C’mon, c’mon.” Twisting around she said, “We’ll be back soon! Get those bandages ready, Aerith.”
“Well, now what?” Leon said. He held Yuffie back by an arm, trying to shuffle her behind him even as she strained to look over his shoulder. He didn’t break eye contact with the blue pair that seemed to glow in the gloom, daring him from the shadows. He wasn’t sure he wanted to take that challenge.
“Uh.” For the first time Yuffie seemed to fully understand the gravity of what they were doing. No where was the levity and bright eagerness of an hour ago, instead just hesitancy and her fingers gripping the sleeve of his jacket. “I don’t know. I found him, so now you can do your…” She flapped a hand at the wolf, huddled down into the corner of boxes and snarling low, heavily favoring his entire left side and not standing. Leon wondered if it even could. “Do your, your muscle thing.”
Leon sighed and rubbed at the scar over his nose. “It bleeds, so we know it isn’t a heartless.”
“Exactly. So… do your thing,” she said.
He didn’t understand how they always put him in these positions.
He pushed her farther behind him and took a step forward, another.
The growling increased, but the wolf stayed down, flashing its teeth the closer Leon came.
There were several more injuries than last night, blood oozing sluggishly from ragged gouges over its ribs. It breathed quick and shallow, legs trembling.
He held out his hand when he was still out of reach. It’s ears flattened back against its head, eyes wide and wild, even if glassy with pain. It tried to stand, but its back leg buckled and slid out from underneath it.
Leon’s heart hammered in his chest, a mixture of anticipation, fear, and a sort of desperation seeping into his veins and making him wish he’d ate more at breakfast.
It snapped at his fingers a few times, yelping either in frustration or pain the flailing caused it. As soon as it stilled, Leon crossed the last few feet and clamped his hand around its muzzle, holding it closed with more effort than he’d expected. It thrashed, growled, but just as he’d hoped, stopped moving and slumped, breathing heavily through its nose, chest expanding too quickly.
“Yuffie,” he called softly. “Come help.”
For a moment no one moved, and then her shoes scrapped against cobblestone and she inched forward, body held rigid. She did as he indicated, replacing her hand around its muzzle.
“I gotcha,” he whispered, and didn’t think too hard about if he was actually talking to Yuffie. He flexed his hand and then stooped to get his arms around it, gingerly lifting.
He jostled the wounded leg anyway.
It convulsed. Yuffie let go and scampered back. The wolf yelped and twisted to snap at his face. Leon reared back just in time to avoid it, and he shifted his arms to press its head against his shoulder, pinning it.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said unconsciously. “Shh, sorry.”
It was much bigger this close, much more dangerous. Unwieldy in his arms, but he was strong enough to hold it at least, and after thrashing it went limp in his arms again, panting hard.
Yuffie swayed closer and then away again. “How did you—you’re crazy. It’d probably take my hand off and you just,” and gestured at them both and lifting her arms over-exaggerated.
“This was all your idea,” Leon reminded her. He shifted his hold to make sure it was secure, to make sure it was as comfortable as possible with it’s head flopped over the crook of his elbow. He ducked back through the hole that brought them into the hidden space and back into the first district.
“Besides, it’s wounded and sick. Not much it can do to defend itself right now.”
“Still…”
They fell into silence; Yuffie openly watching the wolf, and the wolf looking back as if glaring. It held itself tense, shaking, and Leon shifted his hold again. It didn’t help.
She reached out a hand to it. It growled. She ignored it and went for its ears. It promptly took a snap at her fingers. She squeaked and cradled her unmarred fingers to her chest.
Leon rolled his eyes. “That’s what you get. Leave it alone.”
“But he looks so soft.”
“He’s filthy.” And then, too curious to keep quiet now that they’d achieved their objective, “How did you track it down, anyway?”
Yuffie preened, even if Leon tried not to sound as approving as he was. “Oh that part was easy. He’s hurt, right? So he won’t stick around in places he knows he’ll have to fight, and he’d want to hole up somewhere he feels safe.” She gestured behind them at the secret passage even though it wasn’t in view anymore. “Quiet, dark, only one entrance, easily defended. It was simple.”
Leon couldn’t stop his thoughts immediately turning to the waterway beneath the town, where he often retreated when he wanted to be left alone.
Thought also about Yuffie: young, bright, and already knowing the tactics of battle and warriors. It soured his stomach that she was so familiar with it, how quickly she’d had to grow up and learn.
He thought about all of it all the way back to the motel, not liking the picture it made.