Chapter Text
2004
A whole month had passed since Valdelobos.
A whole month of arguing with government officials and Hunnigan telling him to take a break.
But Leon couldn’t. Not without losing his mind completely.
Claire had been visiting at least once a week to make sure his fridge was fully stocked. One time she even brought Sherry and the three of them made cookies. He tried to pretend that it was just like the old days, right after Raccoon City, but Sherry was eighteen now and he felt like he’d aged by at least twenty years himself. She also reminded him of Ashley, with her boundless optimism and cheery nature, which felt like a punch in the gut.
While the President was indeed grateful for his daughter's safe return, Leon had only seen Ashley once since they returned, and it was under the strict surveillance of a number of moody-looking government officials with guns. Stupid really, considering they’d been alone in that godforsaken village except for when Luis was around.
Luis.
Leon winced and took another long swig from the near-empty beer bottle in front of him. Every time Claire texted to say that she was coming over he threw any remaining bottles into a box in the closet, ashamed that he had nothing better to do with his free time. Chris turned up unannounced one evening, sending Leon into a blind panic that involved him smashing a bottle and slicing his hand open on it. Chris didn’t say anything when Leon opened the door with a bloody towel clamped against his left hand. He simply sat him down, asked where his first aid kit was and bandaged him up without a word. Afterwards he talked sombrely about an attack on some place called Terragrigia, but Leon wasn’t listening. If he was honest, he couldn’t focus on anything other than Valdelobos.
Before getting in his truck, Chris lit a cigarette on the driveway. Leon had winced visibly, a wave of anguish paralysing him from neck down. His heart beating so fast it felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. Pins and needles flooded his fingers. He nodded vaguely at whatever Chris was saying, willing him to leave. When his truck finally pulled away, Leon gave a feeble wave before rushing inside and slamming the door. He stumbled to the bathroom, fell to his knees on the hard tiles and threw up a liquid that was probably 95% beer. The sensation was wreaking havoc on his still-healing broken ribs, and he realised that his bandaged hand was gripping the toilet seat with such force that he was seeing stars from the pain.
He leaned against the cool tiled wall, tipping his head back and staring at the sad single light bulb hanging from the ceiling. He sat like this for ten minutes, waiting for his heart rate to slow down, before dragging himself to the bedroom. He tore off his clothes and left them in an uncharacteristic mess on the floor. It was still light outside but he drew the blinds, shutting out all trace of the outside world. His smallest handgun lay on the bedside table, fully loaded. He quickly checked that there was still a knife under his pillow before climbing in.
That had been the worst panic attack he’d had since his return. And all because of a stupid cigarette.
“People can change, right?”
He wishes he’d kept that stupid lighter. Just so he had something. Something to hold on to.
But he had nothing. No Luis. One weird visit with Ashley. Ada god knows where again. Hell, even Hunnigan was ignoring his calls. Any connection he had to his time in Spain was gone and he needed someone who would understand.
Claire had been great, but this was different to the aftermath of Raccoon City. Las Plagas had been inside him, messing with his psyche, pumping through his veins. The only people who could relate were either dead or on house arrest in the fucking White House. And he really didn’t want to scare Ashley anyway.
He needed Luis.
He let out a choked sob, tears threatening to spill as he hastily wiped at his face with the bedsheets.
No tears. Not today.