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Leon groaned with every step, each step feeling like a mile under his aching sweaty feet. By the time he opens the door, he’d already stripped off his vest, hanging it over the armrest of the sofa. Thunder cracked outside, illuminating the dark room brightly in white for a brief moment. Stinging against his drooping eyes. He toed off his shoes and socks and slowly moved toward the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, which he guzzled down in a matter of seconds. Eyes opening bleerily as if to inspect the room for intruders.
How he hated the edge he felt after every mission, never feeling safe in the sanctity of his own home.
The room was just as immaculate as when he’d left it, not a speck of dirt. Just the way he wanted it for when Chris arrives. The thought rejuvenated him, even if only by just a little. And he began tidying up what he could, but he’d already done the heavy lifting previously. It was exactly the way he wanted it. He bit his lip, glancing around the room, glossing over every book just to make sure they were in alphabetical order, all the stale food had already been thrown out. And there wasnt a single dirt scuff in sight.
He found his way to the bedroom, flicking on the light and placing his phone on the nightstand. The bed, which he’d made before leaving several nights ago remained intact, and the rug hadn’t moved at all from beneath it. Not a spot or smudge remained on the vanity mirror, which figured he was the only person to use it. Chris always kept his hair short enough that he didn’t really have to worry about what it was styled like, so long as it was short and stayed out of sight. But he had to admit he missed the old hairstyle he wore back when he first met him.
It couldn’t have been longer than 5 inches, all slicked back like a greaser at prom. Cheesy, but he pulled it off well enough. But it’d been nearly a decade since they first met. And Leon was far too busy to say hello. Constant training everyday made it near impossible to make friends outside of his profession.
Leon glanced over himself, adjusting his hair. But it overall seemed pointless. He needed a shower. Badly. But as he thought, he couldn’t help but think about his own, while Chris had maintained some semblance of a militaristic haircut, Leon much preferred to keep his as it was. It was the only thing he could truly say he controlled. And he refused to let that change. He had to resist the urge to chuckle at the sight of himself. Even with all that mud splattered over his face, he still had a baby face. Just with eyebags.
He stripped off his sweat and bloodstained button-down, throwing it into the washer, not caring if it got wrinkled or not. He slipped out of his pants, and underwear. He glanced back to the door and retrieved his socks, which he promptly threw in as well, starting the wash. Fetching an outfit he could relax in post shower took little more than a gander over his options and he settled for a fair of white sweatpants and a random band-T for a group called Big E, which as far as he was concerned, had faded into obscurity after they ran their course.
He marched back to the bathroom, dropping his clothes in a neat pile atop the sink. He smiled, and muttered allowed, “We can finally be a family again,” he smiled awkwardly. It felt like the first time he’d done it in months, but he needed the practice for when Chris got home.
Warm water washed over him, in a spray so soothing he almost had to sit on the edge of the tub. Each tiny droplet soothing his aching muscles. Fingers rubbing the caked on grime off his skin, and out of his hair. And he made sure not a speck of it remained. He wanted to shine for Chris.
He climbed out of the tub, and toweled off, blotting the cloth over his skin. Redressing, he lazilly combed his hair with his hand. And then he finally heard it, a knock on the door. Firm, but not so strong that they punched a dent into it. And he smiled, running over as quickly as he could to open the door, only to see Piers there. Alone.
A layer of thin soot coated his skin, short hair going off in every which direction. Although he couldn’t say for certain due to his civis, he imagined Piers’s uniform was in less than ideal condition. But he’d met Chris before, frankly it was always surprising if all four of his limbs remained clothed. He looked like he’d gone through hell.
“Hey…” he muttered “Where’s Chris? Stuck writing a report or something?” he quickly had to reassure himself.
Piers looked down quietly, “He…” he took a deep breath to regain any amount of composure, but it wasn’t enough to muster the strength to look Leon in the eyes, “Can I come inside?”
Leon opened the door wider and shut the door behind Piers, “Piers, you worrying me. He’s not…” The rookie looked Leon in the eyes and extended a fist. "Trying to give me a fist bump?” he tried playing it off as a joke.
Piers shook his head, letting out a quiet whimper as tears began to swell up, he overturned his hand to reveal a ring. Chris’s ring, “I’m so sorry,” he wiped away his tears quickly, but they refused to slow down, “He… saved my life… as well as the whole world…”
Leon slowly picked the ring up, staring down at it in disbelief. His hands trembled.
Piers took a seat and placed his head in the palm of his hand, “H-he told me to tell you… he loved you… even up to the very end. And that he’s sorry he couldn’t say goodbye one last time.” he finally glanced up at Leon, who just stood there, staring at the ring in the palm of his hand, mouth partially agape, breath hitching erratically.
Piers swallowed hoarsely, “I’m so sorry, Leon, I tried so hard to save him. I’m so sorry.” it ate at him from the inside. Regret spilling over. He should’ve saved him. He wanted to save Chris, but he took a risk, and sacrificed himself for the benefit of mankind. He leaned into the palms of his hands and continued crying.
“N-no… Chris can’t be… he” Leon slowly came back to reality, shambling toward the couch. He sat quietly, still just staring at this damn ring. And he slowly put it on his finger, right above his own, “I-I… When you came to me, and told me you had a lead on Chris… I thought it seemed almost too good to be true. I wanted to believe you then, but it felt like a dream to finally hear it.” he cleared his throat and swallowed tightly. “I- …had a mission to get to, but the thought never really left my mind. Even as I was accused of assassinating the president, and running from a massive bone T Rex, all I knew was I had to survive if I ever wanted to see him again.”
He glanced toward Piers, “And then I saw him with my own to eyes, face to face, his gun pointed at me, and mine at his… I finally got to see him again, here him say my name… and now he’s gone.” he forced a smile as tears rolled quickly down his cheeks, “Th-thank you… for… letting me know,” he shook as his skin paled, head wobbling as each breath drew in quicker than the last.
He stood up slowly, “I… I… wanna be left alone for now. I’m sorry, please, let yourself out. Or… fuck, it’s too late after all that, just stay here, Couch is free!” he spoke as quickly but kindly as he could possibly manage, but his mind scattered throughout the cosmos, and he could barely contain himself. he walked toward his bedroom, pressing his back toward the door as soon as he shut it. Sliding down the wall until he sat on the floor.
Piers walked toward the bedroom door, taking a deep breath, “We’ll talk tomorrow. S-see you soon.” he stepped away, and slowly eased toward the front door, locking it before returning to the couch.
Leon crawled his way to the bed, legs too unsteady to properly walk on, “I-I… Chris…” he dragged himself into bed and hugged his pillow tightly. Shielding his face as he let out a blood curdling scream. Overcome by grief and anger. For Carla, and Simmons, and whatever bastard murdered Chris.
“Claire, I’ve gotta tell Claire,” He reached for his phone, sitting up. He forced himself to steady his breath, “Claire?” he panicked.
“Leon?” she muttered quietly, “It’s two A.M. why are you-”
“Claire, please, I need to talk to you!” he spoke urgently.
Her demeanor seemed to change entirely, “What’s wrong?” she muttered kindly.
“I-I…” he swallowed, “Chris is… dead… I-I don’t know how… Piers told me, and I just… You needed to know. And I’m so sorry to wake you up for this. I just… you needed to know.”
“Thank you for telling me.” she, much like Leon, went silent, “I’m… I’m sorry, I’ll call you back, I just… I need to calm down.” She hung up the phone.
Leon couldn’t help but feel for her. They were orphans, and he’d always protected her. And he protected Piers, who would’ve been his replacement had he been able to retire, and to an extent he protected Leon. But now? The three of them just sat there, in their own mental cage, pinned against themselves in a brawl for stability or a complete mental breakdown. And based on the feeling alone, Leon was losing the fight.
He hugged his pillow as tight as he possibly could and though back to it, and for whatever fucked up reason, he wanted to blame Piers. It wasn’t his fault, he was sure of it. Dealing with B.O.W.s was a very deadly profession, but he couldn’t help wondering if he truly tried saving Chris. But then he remembered Piers and had to mentally slap himself in the face for even doubting the kid’s loyalty for a second. Of course he would’ve. Wouldn’t he?
He saw Piers, he knew he’d gone through hell and back, there was no doubting it. He had to have tried. But it didn’t make him feel better. No, all it did was make him feel worse. Not only had he doubted Piers, but he had to watch his best friend and mentor die right in front of him.
And he began crying again.
Piers sat quietly. The only noises he could hear were Leon’s sobs and his own pounding heart. It ached, and he desperately wanted to help Leon. But truth be told, he wasn’t in any better of a position. He could only imagine what was goin on inside of Leon’s mind right now. He’d just got back from the same shitshow of a mission, only to discover his husband died.
Piers laid down and peered up at the ceiling fan, watching a specific blade as it spun. It helped calm him down. So long as he didn’t think about it, he could avoid thinking about the fact that his best friend had died. And he wondered how many other people would be affected by this.
He slid a hand through his hair, gripping at a patch, “Fuck me,” he muttered and rolled over. He had to be there for Leon, he’d make sure he gets through this if it’s the last thing he does.
Leon slowly pulled a blanket over himself and bit his lip. He could try to get some sleep, but there was no guarantee, but he had to try.
He had to be there for Piers and Claire. And so he vowed to protect them, for Chris. He wouldn’t let anything happen to them.
The three all cried themselves to sleep that night. And for several nights after.