Chapter Text
Leon had suspected something was wrong for a while before he learned that something was wrong for sure.
Going on for long periods of time without hearing from or seeing Dante was normal. For one, Dante had a business landline, and that was it. No cell phone, no laptop, no nothing. Granted, he was most often sitting next to said landline receiver, poised and ready to answer at a moment’s notice in the hopes of being able to pay rent that month (and to help out someone in danger regardless of their financial situation, but that remained unspoken). Then, of course, there was also the issue of work getting in the way on both ends of their relationship — never mind the distance.
Even so, Leon was certain something was up.
When his suspicions were confirmed, he had been trekking his way up to his Virginia apartment after a long, harrowing op, and he had just wanted to hit the shower and pass out for a good thirteen hours or so. But something in his brain fired off in such a way that he went to check his mailbox in spite of the extra minute or two it kept him away from his bed.
Inside, for once, there was a letter.
Leon stared at it and blinked cartoonishly, like he was suddenly coming out of some kind of exhaustion-induced stupor. It was a red envelope, the shade evocative of a certain demon hunter he’d grown fond of over the years. On it, Leon’s name was written in Dante’s surprisingly elegant handwriting, centered perfectly on the envelope in black ink. There was no delivery address, no return address, nor any postage.
Leon’s stomach sank.
Trying his hardest not to crush the paper in a fist, he started his ascent to his apartment, moving much quicker with a new objective to complete. He forced himself to breathe deeply as he jogged up the stairs, willing himself to relax each muscle manually. Through great effort, his mind was blank as he moved, until finally he made it inside and could carefully open the envelope.
Leon,
You may have noticed it’s been a while. Maybe that’s my fault, maybe it’s yours, maybe both. Or neither. Does it really matter?
What matters is that I’ve been really busy with family stuff. Vergil is back and I’ve had to rip him a new one (again), but I’ve still got to keep an eye on him. Oh, and you remember what I was telling you that one time about Nero? Yeah, well, turns out I was right. Congrats, you’re an uncle!
From now on, where Vergil goes, I follow. It’s gotta be that way if the world’s gonna have even the slightest chance at something close to peace. It’s kinda like you being caught up in the whole bioterrorism fighting thing after getting incredibly unlucky, you know? Vergil is my own personal Tyrant, with more brain cells and bonus family trauma.
Technically speaking, I could have told you all of this and more in person. And I probably should have. But the whole thing was a bit time sensitive. There’s also the issue of me seeing your face, and then not having the strength to leave.
I’ll be back for you, Leon. I promise.
I love you,
Dante
There was a lot to take in. The letter left so many questions, more than it answered. How long ago had Dante left? Leon had been gone for so long…
…and now he felt so empty.
So that was it. He set out: he hopped in his car and started his lonely journey to Red Grave City. Well, first to the airport, then to Red Grave. Hell, it wasn’t like he had to pack. He had an apartment there, after all. He simply grabbed his things he’d brought with him on the op and left as quickly as he’d come in.
He stopped at his apartment in the city first, just a quick pause to set his go bag down at first, but then when he realized what time it was (the wee hours of the morning), he decided to spend the rest of the “night” there. Maybe he could try to get some sleep.
Yeah, right.
As he lay in bed, the impact of reading Dante’s words plagued him.
There’s also the issue of me seeing your face, and then not having the strength to leave.
That was what haunted Leon most: the thought that he had so much power over Dante that he could keep him from following his own brother into God knows what kind of hellscape Vergil had landed himself in. Did he really mean it? Or had he been joking? God, sometimes Leon couldn’t tell. Dante was often an enigma like that: layer upon layer of carefully concocted snark and humor and sarcasm, covering up a core of emotional intelligence and vulnerability.
No wonder they simultaneously got along so well and drove each other crazy.
Leon flopped over onto his stomach in his bed and sighed. Sleeping was not on the table tonight, he was sure of it, but he really did try to rest. That had to be worth something.
—
When the first rays of sunlight hit his face the next morning, waking him up, Leon realized two things: one was that, against all odds, he had fallen asleep. The second was that his pillow smelled like Dante.
That explained how he’d gotten to sleep in the first place.
Face twisted into a miserable scowl at the thought, he got ready for the day, then practically made a beeline for Dante’s office, breakfast be damned.
For some reason, approaching the place had him feeling more anxious and uneasy than he’d felt in years. Why was it that facing off against a monster three times his size was doable, but potentially confronting a man he loved was so terrifying? He was sure he could figure it out if he actually gave it some thought, but as it was, he wiped his mind blank, only slightly hesitating at the doors of Devil May Cry.
“Good morning, how can I — oh!”
Leon was greeted by a familiar voice that sounded soft and twinkling, like a wind chime on a warm and breezy day.
“Kyrie? What are you doing here?” Leon squawked rudely, then immediately backpedaled: “I mean, not that it’s not nice to see you, but… I usually only see one person sitting in that spot, and I’d say he’s got about ten inches of height and a good hundred pounds on you if I had to guess.”
“It’s okay, I know what you mean, Leon,” she assured with an amused smile on her lips. “Well, things have changed a lot around here,” she continued thoughtfully, looking unsure of how much to say. “Ever since — ”
“Dante left.”
Leon and Kyrie both turned abruptly to the source of the interruption, the voice coming from the landing upstairs and echoing slightly off the hardwood flooring.
“Nero. Good to see you too, kid,” Leon muttered, crossing his arms. He wasn’t lying, but the kid’s lack of manners sometimes drove him a bit nuts.
“Go fuck yourself,” Nero spat back immediately, punctuating his command by jumping over the railing of the upper level and landing on his feet right next to the desk, startling Kyrie.
“Nero!”
“Sorry, Kyrie, sorry, I just — ”
“Apologize to Leon, not to me!”
“Yeah, apologize to Leon, too,” Leon agreed, furrowing his brow and bristling, although he was more confused than angry at this point. “What did I even do?”
“It’s more about what you didn’t do,” Nero grumbled, arms crossed as he glared at Leon. “Dante and my — and Vergil are gone, and you didn’t do a damn thing. They went off and where were you? I thought you cared for him!”
Suddenly, Leon was seeing red. He didn’t care that Nero was taller and stronger and one quarter demon to boot — he marched over to get in the kid’s face.
“You watch your mouth,” Leon said, voice dangerously low as he punctuated his words with an index finger poking into Nero’s chest. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Nero opened his mouth to reply, but Kyrie cut him off with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Nero, stop.”
Leon expected Nero to protest, but as soon as he felt Kyrie’s touch, before she even said anything, he wilted, all of his attention being redirected at her. Leon felt a bit uncomfortable seeing the way Nero looked at her, so he glanced at the floor instead.
After a moment, Leon heard Nero let out a long breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just — they just left. Took off before I could even process… everything. And I’m just so angry. I’ve been so angry for, what, a few months now? And there’s no one and nothing to direct all the anger at, and then you walk in, and I think — I don’t know…”
“Um, sorry,” Kyrie butted in softly, “but, Leon, do you even know what happened?”
Nero’s face immediately flushed with embarrassment.
“Sort of,” Leon replied, doing his best to keep the amusement off his face. He reached into the interior pocket of his jacket and brandished the letter that had brought him here between his index and middle fingertips. He watched as Nero and Kyrie’s heads tilted at the exact same angle to read Leon’s name written in Dante’s handwriting, then continued, “The asshole left me a letter. He kind of explained, but, y’know, I’m sure there’s more to it than what he wrote. All I really know is that I’m an uncle and that Dumb and Dumber have gone someplace far away and won’t be back for a long while.”
Nero and Kyrie looked at each other quickly, then back to Leon.
“Putting a pin in the uncle thing — what do you mean, they ‘won’t be back for a long while’?” Nero questioned.
Leon blinked, wondering why he was the one answering questions. “Well, I’ll spare you the mushy details, but Dante wrote that he’d be back.” The memory of Dante’s handwriting formed around the words ‘I promise’ passed through Leon’s mind briefly, before he abruptly stifled the emotions it elicited in favor of looking at the pair with his brows knit in confusion. “Wait. How long ago did you say this all happened? Whatever the hell it was that happened, that is.”
“A few months,” Nero responded, looking back at Leon with an equally confused expression. “Did he not mention that?”
“Um, no?”
“Oh.”
Leon was starting to panic; he could feel the anxiety start to itch at his brain. “What the hell? I — oh, Jesus. I’ve been… I’ve been in DC that whole time!” Leon ran his palms down his face. “Fucking — I need a vacation. Or to retire altogether, God damn.” Suddenly, he wished, so much that it hurt, that Dante was here to literally and figuratively hold him up through the panic attack he was suddenly careening into.
“Leon,” Kyrie said softly, “it’s okay. He wrote that they’ll come back, right? Is it okay if I touch you?”
“Yes, yes, yes to both,” Leon said in a breathless rush, letting himself be gently ushered over to the lumpy leather couch he was so familiar with. Suddenly Nero was tapping his shoulder and handing him a cleaned out salsa jar full of water.
“Everything will be okay,” Kyrie said, her soft voice and the steady pressure of her hand rubbing his shoulder like a balm on his senses. “We didn’t even know that they’d be back, so you’ve given us great news. Right, Nero?”
“Yeah,” Nero said, his voice softer than Leon had ever heard it, like he was trying to imitate Kyrie. “We were sure that they were gone for — ”
“GOOD GRIEF!”
All three of their heads whipped around to glance at the doorway, where a whole caravan of characters was pouring in. Leon recognized four out of five of them: there was Morrison, Lady, Trish, and Patty, and at the front there was someone Leon had never met.
“Nico! Keep it down, can’t you see someone’s having a panic attack here?!” Nero shouted, completely undermining the sentiment of his words.
“No, but I can see the middle aged emo boy you two are cuddling with. I thought you said y’all weren’t looking for a third?”
Leon turned to look at Kyrie, who simply shrugged.