Chapter Text
Leon
Leon doesn’t know what happened.
A monster was chasing him; he knew that. Grace had been running behind, struggling through fearful, weak breaths. Every pounding step only weakened the distance between Leon, Grace, and a gruesome end. Grace’s fear became white noise against the snarling, hot breath of hunger.
When Grace’s scream felt final, Leon was powerless to help her. Even with a suppressant, the infection weakened him. The hand meant for his trigger was blackened and useless.
So why is his heart throbbing inside his chest, rather than between foul, decaying gums? Why did the monster reel back, shrieking and wounded?
Leon only stares. It must be a dumbass thing to do, because the shadows yell at him for it.
“Mierda, Leon, now’s not the time to be admiring it!”
What follows is more shots from the dark that sing through the air with a familiar whistle, and all of Leon’s past piercing him as they do.
Luis’ voice is tired and strained, more than Leon remembers. But it has the same deep accent, and the same fondness embracing every word.
Leon never forgot Luis’ voice after all.
The monster rolls around, skin twisting in desperation. Leon stops hesitating. The flurry of bullets he dispenses into the creature will likely never be enough to keep the thing down, but their impact opens red wounds and windows of time.
He grabs Grace’s quivering hand and dashes for the shadows that beckon him with haste.
When Leon reaches the space he knows Luis hides, every inch of himself yearns to stop. He aches to take a moment to remember all of what he missed. He wants to savour the smell of dying cigarettes and warm cologne, the roughness of Luis’ hand as he pushes them towards what Leon assumes is an exit. But the monster looms, and the dark obscures all of what Leon is desperate to see. He tries to imagine what Luis looks like now; whether Luis might wear the same gaudy red leather, or if his hair is longer, greyer, and as soft as Leon recalls. His head tells him this is not the priority, even if his heart argues it is.
When they make it out of the hospital, it is to streets Leon begged to forget, but also a face Leon prayed to always remember. They’re all gasping for the air lost during a frantic run for survival, but Leon gives most of his focus to Luis. With Luis illuminated by the weak glow of a broken lamplight, Leon commits a new face to his memory.
In the desolate streets of Raccoon City, Luis looks like he belongs. It’s a thought Leon never thought he’d have, but it’s the truth. Instead of a leather jacket, Luis hides under a labcoat so worn that the rain could tear it apart. His hair is much longer, hastily tied in a bun. The strands escape from the hair-tie to kiss at his neck, but his face is framed with the same gentle curls. Age and fatigue etch into his skin, weighing down his eyes. But, even behind broken lenses, they’re the soft, kind silver that Leon searched for everyday after Valdelobos. Like back then, Leon’s gaze settles on Luis’ lips, before temptation gives way to shame. He looks away.
As punishment, Leon’s gaze is forced onto the veins inking up Luis’ neck and down his arms. He notices the frantic shaking of Luis’ hands, and the remnant of coughed blood which stains them.
The air fades from Leon’s lungs. He doesn’t know if it’s stolen by a phantom of his parasite or by fear.
Luis is still infected by Las Plagas. He’d given everything to cure Leon and Ashley but he hadn’t given himself the same. Leon remembers being shown a raised, sharp scar, and a removal Luis did himself. Under the influence of the parasite, weak and afraid, Luis couldn’t have removed it perfectly.
“Ah, I can feel your eyes, Sancho. No free show this time, I’m afraid.”
Leon stares at Luis’ smirk. Suddenly, all of his grief and guilt manifests as sickening anger. How can Luis act so careless? He’d let Leon believe he’d died.
It’s unfair, Leon knows, to feel this rage. None of this is Luis’ fault. Nothing good would’ve come of him searching for Leon. He didn’t choose to die the first time, or to be dying now.
But he can’t smother it.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Luis’ smile shatters to the ground. The sky bleeds hard, loud rain. Luis’ voice wavers against it. “Um… you’ll have to be more specific, Sancho.”
“Can’t you take something seriously for once?” Leon grits out. “I thought you were dead. I mourned you. And now you’re infected, and instead of helping yourself you try to cure me instead. Fuck, Luis!”
Luis bites his lip. Leon ignores how it makes him feel.
“Leon-” Luis starts. But he’s interrupted by an exasperated sigh, which reminds Leon that it’s not just himself and Luis out here.
“Okay, I get you two have some pent up issues, but now is really not the time for it,” Grace snaps. “I’m wet, I’m freezing, and that freak is probably tailing us right now so can we at least find somewhere safe before you start this bullshit?”
“My bad, senorita,” Luis mumbles. Leon whispers out a pathetic apology of his own.
He wishes the sky would swallow him. Now, Grace knows just what a mess he is. He’s reminded Luis of only the worst parts of himself.
“It’s fine,” Grace sighs. She turns to cast a quick smile towards Luis. “Thanks for saving me again.”
Leon raises an eyebrow, but they’re moving before he can ask about Grace and Luis’ affiliation. How long has Luis been here? How much time has Leon wasted?
As they move, he and Luis don’t speak to one another. When he chances a glance, Luis is always looking ahead, stern and focused. It’s a look Leon rarely saw, aside from when he’d asked Luis to explain the Plaga. Leon wonders if that’s exactly what Luis is thinking about.
Before the silence can drive Leon insane, Grace breaks it. “Is this place safe?”
Leon looks away from Luis towards the building ahead. It’s dilapidated, with rotting walls and broken like torn skin. But the letters cling to the front arch, welcoming Leon home to the Raccoon City Police Department.
Just the sight of the place prompts a surge of nausea. Leon masks a stumble.
Luis’s concern bears into his back. “I think we should find another-”
“This place is fine,” Leon interrupts. He doesn’t turn to see Luis’ expression, or Grace’s naive relief. He forces himself forward, though the wet concrete now feels more like wading through stiff mud. Luis and Grace linger behind. Grace keeps distance out of patience and nerves. Luis keeps himself far away because he thinks he can’t step any closer.
Leon resents that he made Luis feel he had to do that.
The doors loom, protecting Leon from the past he could never confront. He presses a gloved hand against them. His heartbeat pulses through his palm.
On the fifth beat, he pushes the doors open.
The blood on the floors of the RPD is darker and dried. Now, the windows let in harsh howls of wind. This time, there’s no roaming corpses or a hulking stalker. There’s no Marvin.
But the shutter is left open. Leon feels the same hollow dread when he stares at the black space beyond it. The chair which Marvin died on is still here. The spray of blood from where Leon shot him stains it still.
Leon hoped for the station to look less familiar. But it’s as if he’d never left. He half expects to look down to see himself dressed in the mellow blue uniform of the RPD; to feel all of his age and weariness seep away from his bones till he’s a young, promising rookie again.
He’s still in darker blue. He’s still tired.
The doors fall back on themselves with a slam. There’s no leaving now. But at least Leon knows this place. He knows where to lead Luis and Grace, to where it’s safest.
No one speaks. Not until they huddle into the office that once belonged to S.T.A.R.S. It remains a sanctuary, as it did when Leon first needed to hide from monsters. Now, though, Leon can recognise a few of the cadets pictured in a frame on the desk. They beam, bright and unaware of how that emotion now exists for them only in the photograph.
Whilst Grace settles into one of the chairs, Leon goes through the motions. He checks his magazine, then sharpens his hatchet. Luis stares, shameless, and Leon burns like this is his first crush. It’s humiliating.
But when he removes his glove to inspect his infection, Luis' eyes shift to concern. Hesitant, he wanders over. When Leon doesn’t bite in defense, he reaches to take Leon’s hand. Gentle, he studies the blackness. “I see the suppressant is working somewhat.”
“Yeah,” Leon coughs, trying to dispel his nerves. “I don’t want to know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t made that for me.”
The thank you is unsaid. Leon knows Luis hears it anyway.
“Ah, well, it’s not like I haven’t done it before,” Luis shrugs. He keeps stroking Leon’s hand. Then, his voice lowers to a private whisper. “Are you okay being here? I understand it is for the senorita’s sake, but…”
Leon squeezes his eyes shut. “Yes. It’s fine. I’m sure I know this place better than Gideon would. If we need to make a quick escape, we can.”
“You know that is not what I asked. Always avoiding my questions.”
“I learnt that from someone else,” Leon retorts.
“Touché,” Luis breathes out a laugh. Too distracted by Luis’ hand tracing his, Leon regrets not paying enough attention to savour the sound. “I suppose I owe you a lot of explanations, don’t I?”
“You do.”
Leon turns away from Luis to watch Grace. She’s folded in the chair like a dying leaf in winter. Her eyes stare at the blank ceiling, as if an answer to what she’s gone through is in the broken plaster. She looks so fragile, but she’s nothing but strong - so much like Ashley.
Leon doesn’t want to leave her alone, but he can’t stand another second where he doesn’t have some talk with Luis. But he doesn’t want her listening in on that.
“Give me a second.”
Reluctantly, Leon takes his hand away from Luis, and moves over to Grace. Seeing him, she tries to smile, but it’s formed by a loose string.
“How’re you feeling?” He asks. It’s a stupid question, but one that’s required.
“Better, now we’re not running for our lives,” she sighs. “Sorry for getting snappy earlier.”
Vehemently, Leon shakes his head. “I was the one being unreasonable. You just put me in my rightful place.”
“Maybe,” Grace mumbles. She looks down at her nails. They’re gnawed down to nothing. “We can’t stay here forever, can we?”
“No. But I’ll make sure you get out of here safe, don’t you worry.”
Grace frowns. “I’m more worried about you, and… is it Luis? He never told me his name before.”
“So you do know him then,” Leon confirms. He’ll have to ask Luis about that. “Speaking of Luis. Before we figure out how to get out of here, do you mind if he and I have a talk? We won’t go far. Just out in the hallway.”
“Oh, I see,” Grace smirks. Leon doesn’t know what to make of it. “I’ll be okay. I handled myself before you guys showed up, you know.”
“Of course,” Leon indulges her. “Um… thanks. We won’t be long.”
“Mhm.” Grace murmurs, but her eyes are back on the ceiling, lost in a world far from Raccoon City. Leon won’t tear her away from it. Instead, he strides back over to Luis, and grabs him by the sleeve.
Luis protests with an indignified squawk. Leon has to bite down a smile as he drags them into the empty hallway. The only light is the weak glow of the moon from where it watches behind the clouds. When Leon looks into Luis’ eyes, he sees the moon again.
“Did you need to be so aggressive?” Luis mutters. “This coat has grown on me, you know.”
“Really? Pretty big downgrade from your usual style in zombie outbreaks,” Leon remarks. In the quiet calm, his bones and muscles melt. He slumps against the office door. The ridges carve unspoken words into his spine.
Luis falls beside him. There’s a breath of space between them which Leon wants to close. “Okay, you got me. I had a leather jacket, but it got ruined. It’s my fault for wanting to fight zombies with some style.”
“I’m not even surprised,” Leon smiles. It’s so easy to fall back into Luis’ comfort. In Valdelobos, he’d been so angered and resentful that it took a lot for him to let himself just be. But when he did, having Luis with him felt natural. Every silence after him was wrong.
But Leon can’t let himself drift along waves of familiarity. He has questions that rock the boat, and an infection that boils the water.
“I’m sorry for acting like that earlier,” he begins. “This is a lot of shit to process. Not that it excuses it.”
Luis moves closer to latch onto his voice. Finally, their shoulders touch. The burn Leon feels is juvenile and addictive.
“It’s fine, Sancho. I honestly expected worse. Hold on, that sounds bad,” Luis chases his words. “I didn’t mean I expected you to be cruel. Just that I felt it was what I deserved.”
Confusion creases Leon’s brow. “Why the hell would you think that, Luis?”
Luis shrugs, but the nonchalance isn’t there. “I don’t know… punishment for everything, maybe? For this city, for Las Plagas, for being alive and keeping it to myself. I have many reasons.”
Leon numbs his lip. Does Luis really feel the same damning guilt he felt over twenty years ago? Maybe it’s Leon’s fault, for waiting until Luis’ last breath to tell him he was a good person after all. His own fear made him wait to say what Luis needed to hear.
He shifts even closer until their knees click together. “You know I don’t blame you for any of that. Not anymore, at least. You had your reasons for not telling me. They were probably good ones.” He sucks in a breath. “I’m just glad you’re here now.”
“Aw, Sancho, don’t tell me you’re getting sentimental now,” Luis smiles. But his face deepens to a darker red. “I had my doubts about coming here, but hey, maybe it wasn’t a totally dumb idea.”
Leon mirrors Luis’ smile. It’s not as natural on his face, but his eyes soften the same. “Maybe not.”
He takes the moment of stillness to stare at Luis, beyond his surface level. Stares at the sharp rise in his nose, the curve of his lashes, the black veins in his eyes. He wonders if Las Plagas is why Luis is here; questions how Luis even knows about Gideon or Elpis. As far as Leon knows, Luis was only a part of the European branch in Umbrella, which Gideon was not. He doubts their paths crossed. News of Gideon and Elpis is restricted to the government, so unless Luis managed to trespass into heavily guarded files, he wouldn’t have a reason to believe something is still hiding in this dead city.
Leon knows someone who would be able to do that, but it’d be a frustrating truth if that were the case. The more he thinks on it, though, the more it becomes the only explanation he has.
“Why are you here?” Leon asks. “Information about Victor Gideon and the virus is classified. You shouldn't know about it.”
“I got a tip,” Luis replies, as vague as he ever. When he senses Leon’s exasperation, he laughs. “Okay, okay, I’ll be honest. Ada told me there was something here that might help fix my… problem. But then I saw you, and found out about what that creep plans to do with the senorita. My priorities shifted.”
As expected, it’s Ada. She and Luis knew each other, which Leon was aware of. He just didn’t expect them to still know each other. If he thinks more on it, she’s likely the reason why Luis even found a way out of Valdelobos, and why he’s not been given to the government.
In the past, this might’ve ignited in Leon a feeling of betrayal. Even jealousy over how she got to see Luis for the decades that Leon was forced to grieve him. But he’s not as childish anymore. Any resentment he held towards her aged away. Now, he sees this as just another reason to be in her debt. He’s really racking up a bill.
“I guess I owe Ada again,” Leon repeats. “But why didn’t you follow me? Why make Grace give me the suppressant, instead of yourself?”
Luis stares at Leon as if the answer is obvious. “Look at me, Leon.”
Leon is. He hasn’t stopped looking. He knows what Luis is shameful of: the harsh, infected veins splitting through his skin; the blood dripping from his lip; the weariness weighing down his eyes and bones. But Leon doesn’t know why it matters. He will always see Luis as someone worth every slight glance, and every longing gaze.
“I don’t see the problem,” Leon admits. “You’ve seen me like that before. Hell, I’m infected again. We both look like shit.”
“I guess we do,” Luis sighs. “I just wish it could’ve happened a little differently.”
Again, they fall into silence. Outside, the wind hums a low tune, as the rain tap dances upon the rooftops. The dark clouds have moved so that the moon flaunts itself in full. It shines through drifting curtains and onto the fairy dust in the air. Luis rubs at his fingers, ghosting the lighter he used to hold. The moment is a cool blue compared to the dusting red of the elevator, but it makes Leon feel the same as it did back then, when Luis confessed his own sins, and Leon hesitated to do the same.
There are truths Leon thought would always be left to rot in his mind. Now, he decides to force some out.
“I thought about you so much,” he confesses to break the silence. Luis turns, eyes widening to a full moon as Leon continues. “I felt so weak, for grieving so much. We didn’t know each other for more than a day. We still barely know each other, really. But that one day meant so much more to me than it ever should’ve. I guess I was grieving what I thought I’d never know.”
His voice tries to retreat, but he won’t let it find safety, not now. He meets Luis’ gaze. “Did it ever mean that much to you, Luis? Or am I just feeling too much again?”
“Oh Leon,” Luis soothes. Leon leans towards his voice, drowning in the solace it gives him. “I’ll be honest, I thought missing you as desperately as I did was pretty stupid. But I think that parasite has only kept me alive as long as it has so I could see you again. My thoughts always returned to you. It makes sense that my body would one day as well.”
He smiles. “I guess you made a good impression on me.”
“Yeah…” Leon mumbles. He can’t tell if the warmth in his body is caused by the feverous infection or Luis’ words. They’re only one type of confession; Leon doesn’t think he can ever ask for the other. But it consoles one of the fears that was haunting him.
He moves back to the simple questions. The ones Luis prompted.
“How did the parasite.. I mean, I saw you..” Leon begins. “I know I saw you die.”
“I did.” Luis confirms. “But trying to remove a parasite with only a scalpel and nerve isn’t the best way to ensure a clean job. I must’ve left a little bit of it in there. And I guess it didn’t want to bother finding a new host, so it mutated to bring me back. I couldn’t restore contact with you, but I could reach Ada. She got me out, found me what I needed to make a suppressant.”
He turns his hand to inspect the quivering and the veins. “I think Las Plagas must’ve made itself weaker, so it could wait inside me until it found someone else. But it never did, so it’s a little pissed off. The suppressant doesn’t work anymore.”
Leon caves under the heaviness in his chest. Luis sounds so hopeless.
“What about removing it?” It’s a foolish question, but Leon asks it anyway.
“The machine and blueprints all burnt up with the island. There’s no way of removal. This parasite is bound to me until I die.”
There’s a hard lump in Leon’s throat, and he can’t swallow it. It lingers to remind him that it’s likely he’ll have to watch Luis die again. He can’t create a surgical machine or a suppressant. He can’t heal knife wounds, or carve open a chest to remove a parasite.
The deja vu is stifling.
“Don’t look like that, Sancho,” Luis whispers. “It hurts.”
“How else do you want me to feel?” Leon bites.
“You’re right. Sorry.” In apology, Luis reaches out to take Leon’s gloved hand. Leon wishes he could rip it off just to feel the contact. “But we can still get rid of your nasty virus, and get the senorita to safety. Just like before.”
“Are you seriously just going to give up? You made a suppressant for me, out of, what, some blood? What makes you think that wouldn’t work for you?”
Luis smiles, but it’s nothing but sad. “I thought this virus was like Las Plagas, but I don’t know if I believe that anymore.”
“But you’re not sure. You’re only guessing.” Leon presses. He’s being childish, prying for an answer Luis doesn’t have, but it’s this fact that makes him ask. Because if Luis isn’t certain, there’s a chance. This hope is dangerous, but Leon won’t let it escape him.
“Leon…” Luis begins, but Leon won’t hear it.
“You’re the reason I’m not infected by that parasite anymore. You’re the reason I’ve not already lost myself to Gideon’s virus.” Leon keeps Luis’ gaze, even as the other tries to run away. “Let me be the reason you make it out of here. Because I’m not leaving without you. Not again.”
Leon doesn’t look away from Luis until he sees his eyes glaze over with a reluctant shimmer of hope. When Leon cracks a messy smile, Luis throws his head back in mock exasperation.
“Seriously, Sancho, you’re going to make me insane. Is it my own fault? Should I have known you wouldn’t just lay down and let it happen? You never do.” Then, he mumbles into his hands, face softening to a pink, sunset hue.
Leon raises an eyebrow. “Are you going to tell me what you just said, or is it another secret?”
Luis drops his head to stare at Leon with deep intent. “A very deep secret. If the knight saves the princess, he gets to hear it.”
“So now I’m the knight and you’re the princess?” Leon snorts.
“What, you think I’m not pretty enough to be one?” Luis bats his eyelashes as he tucks a loose hair behind his ear. Leon laughs because it’s funny, and because he’s nervous. This is borderline highschool flirting, something he hasn’t done in decades. He should be too old for this.
“I guess your hair is long enough now,” Leon reaches out to play with the other curled strand. As expected, it’s silk between his fingertips. He debates moving closer to catch his nails around Luis’ hair tie, so the hair falls in waves upon Luis shoulders. The thought of running his hands through tempts Leon like a siren’s call.
Luis watches Leon with parted lips and moonlight eyes. His breaths are quiet. He doesn’t move.
But silence is always weighted, and it once again drags Leon back to the uncomfortable earth. He’s not young anymore, taking risks that, if he got lucky, only led to foul insults spat with disgust. Luis wouldn’t be like that, Leon knows. But his mind tells him Luis’ stillness is discomfort; that if he keeps going, he’ll ruin what he’s only just found again.
With an awkward cough, he retracts his hand. He doesn’t look at what Luis’ expression might be as he stands, and directs himself to the door. He doesn’t want to know.
“Grace is probably wondering where we are,” Leon mutters.
He turns back to Luis, because he’s not going to be completely childish and avoid his gaze. But there’s a glint in Luis’ eye that Leon can’t decipher, a tilt to his smirk that has Leon scalding inside. Luis doesn’t look uncomfortable; it’s more the opposite.
“Lead the way, Sancho,” he replies. Keeping eye contact, he adjusts his hair-tie until more curls kiss his neck.
Leon’s mouth dries. As normal as he tries to sound, it doesn’t stop his words grating against his gums like sandpaper. “If I’m the knight, wouldn’t I be Don Quixote?”
“Mm, yeah, but you’ll always be Sancho to me.” Luis hums. He holds out a hand, and instinctively, Leon pulls him up. “Alright, let’s not keep the senorita waiting.”
He strides past Leon, who follows behind like a lost dog. It’s becoming disturbing how he can’t stop acting like his rookie self.
Grace hasn’t moved since they left. When she hears them, she stops boring holes into the ceiling to stare them into Leon instead. He doesn’t know what he looks like, but it’s enough for questions to flit past Grace’s eyes. In every blink there’s another.
Though, to Leon’s relief, she doesn’t ask. She shuffles over to meet them, wrapping her arms around herself as she does so. Seeing her up close highlights the terror that’ll forever be scarred onto her face. All her bones shake with it, but she keeps herself upright, too stubborn to let herself fall. Even when her mouth tries to press itself into a closed, nervous line, she forces herself to speak.
“So, how the hell do we get out of here?”
“To be honest, I doubt Gideon doesn’t know where we are,” Luis begins. “He may be insane, but he’s very intelligent also. If you want to know what he’s planning, I don’t think brute force is the way to do this.”
Towards Leon, he casts a teasing smile. “Sorry, Leon.”
“Why? ‘Cause you’re the brains, and I’m the brawn?” Leon mutters.
“Exactly,” All the softness turns to pride as Luis grins. “So, we need to lure him out. We figure out everything he’s planning with Elpis from the inside.”
An unease builds in Leon’s throat. He doesn’t like where this is going.
But it’s Grace who speaks up instead.
“I’ll do it,” she declares. “He wants me, after all. I can let him believe that I want to free Elpis. He’ll probably let slip some secret, and then you can both apprehend him then.”
“No.” Leon won’t allow this. He can’t believe Grace is even suggesting it. “I’m not letting you put yourself at risk.”
“But you’re allowed to throw your life away? I might not be a field agent like you, but I can survive by myself. I want to do this.”
“That’s different-” Leon begins, before Luis interrupts with slight hesitance.
“I think it’s a good idea.” Before Leon can attack him with disbelief, he continues. “I’ll go with her.”
He turns to Grace. “To be honest, I don’t think he’d believe you for a second. But I can feign interest in this Elpis. What do you think?”
Grace nods.
Leon feels like he’s losing his mind. “What the fuck, no. He’ll kill you both, don’t you understand that?”
He doesn’t voice the dread he feels, or the suffocating fear of losing Luis again, and of failing someone else. Instead, he’s hoping that Luis might see it in the shaking of his hands, and the desperation blown in his irises.
But Luis only shakes his head. “The only way I can find a link between Elpis and Las Plagas is if I go back to his labs. But he won’t be happy to find me there again. Not unless I pretend to want what he wants.”
Only to Leon, in hushed shame, he adds, “I used to be like him, Leon. Believe me, it’ll be easy to pretend.”
Trying to force out the aching fear in his head, Leon rubs at his temples. He knows nothing he says will convince Luis otherwise. Agreeing makes his heart wring itself out like a rag, but he’s helpless to do anything else.
“Fine. But I’m going to be as near as I can be. If things even look like they’re going to go wrong, I’m shooting him on the spot.”
It goes against his instructions to apprehend Gideon alive. But Leon’s long past obedience. His radio has been off for hours. Either Hunnigan has already sent out for a retrieval, or his superiors have ordered her not to. He’s gone off course; as good as dead.
Then, he leans into Luis. With a certain whisper, because he can’t bear Luis still believing himself to be so vile and cruel, he reassures. “You’re nothing like Gideon. Not now, not ever.”
“You’re going to make me doubt my acting ability if you say that,” Luis replies. Yet, his eyes are heavy with gratitude. Leon will make sure to say it again and again until it’s all Luis hears, just so there’s no possibility he can think of himself as anything but good.
“Am I missing something?” Grace asks. “Why are we whispering?”
“Don’t worry about it, senorita,” Luis rests a hand on Grace’s shoulder to steer her towards the office door. “Leon was just making me feel better.”
Leon nods as he walks over. Before he faces the hallway, he fishes out his spare radio, and places it in Luis’ hand. For a second too long, he lingers in Luis’ space, until he hears the ticking of clock hands in his head.
“I don’t want you two to be with him any more than you need to be. When you’ve found what you need, call me. Keep him distracted long enough for me to get there. I can handle whatever comes after.”
“Of course, Sancho. I’ll leave the boss fight to you.”
Leon rolls his eyes.
The door didn’t loom like this earlier. With a sharp intake of breath, Leon pushes it open, and steps into the hallways. The wind still ghosts the curtains with a sharp whisper, but the moon has since draped itself in dark, bulbous clouds. As they make their way down to the second floor, their footsteps echo back hollow.
When they reach the end of the staircase, Leon turns to Luis. “I still don’t like this.”
“So you’ve said,” Luis replies. “But we don’t have any other choice, Sancho.” He pauses. “Unless you let it go. You escape with Grace, and you use her blood, which I know will help you. You leave me here. I promise I won’t come back to haunt you.”
It’s a meaningless promise. Luis didn’t intend to haunt Leon before, yet his ghost was in every mirror.
“You know I can’t do that,” Leon grumbles. “I’m just…” he trails off.
He doesn’t even have the courage to tell Luis he’s just scared.
There isn't time, either, because the building begins to shake under Gideon's fury. Luis was right. Somehow, Gideon knew they were here.
Leon isn’t given much chance to process before Luis is shoving him underneath the staircase, and hissing at him to stay put. Disgruntled, Leon complains under his breath. Loyal as always, he does as he’s told. It’s too late now to drag Luis and Grace to safety and convince them not to throw their lives away. All he can do is shrink against the wall until the infection melting on his skin becomes indistinguishable from the shadows. He readies his gun. Time becomes excruciatingly slow as he waits.
Gideon hauls himself down the corridor, consuming the space with his monstrous frame. Hauntingingly, he reminds Leon of the bioweapon that stalked him, only stopping when he was nothing more than spurting blood and a shattered ribcage. Leon prays Gideon is not so durable.
When Gideon focuses on Grace and Luis, his mouth stretches, his teeth growing out over his lip.
“Grace,” he hisses. Spit clogs his mouth. “You shouldn’t have run away from me.”
Then, he jerks towards Luis. His snarl gurgles in his throat.
“You are a fool to think you could steal her away. You don’t understand how much she is needed.”
But, when Gideon nears, Luis puts on his mask. With one of his hands held up in surrender, the other clasps Grace’s arm like a handcuff. Gasping, Grace struggles. It’s a show, but one that makes Gideon pause enough for Luis to continue the act.
“I didn’t before,” he starts. “But I do now. You’re forgetting I was once an Umbrella researcher myself. I worked on Nemesis. I even discovered my own virus, just like Elpis. I made it so a whole village was under the mercy and control of one man. That’s what you want, yes?”
Grace jerks in shock. Luis must’ve forgotten to mention that when they’d first met.
With black holes of aspiration in his eyes, Luis raises his free hand towards Gideon. “Let’s work together. After all, I brought Grace back to you, didn’t I? All I had to do was make her trust me.”
Having to sit and watch is torturous. Every muscle in Leon’s throat wants to shout that it’s not true. But there’s no stomaching the guilt he feels over how, for a second, he fears it might be; that this whole time Luis was only the Plaga, and Leon never had Luis back at all.
Yet, Luis’ throat shudders as he speaks. No matter how dark he tries to make his eyes, within them they still hold the moon. Luis could never feign cruelty.
“You did,” Gideon muses. “I know of Las Plagas. It came up in my research.”
His grin widens until it peels back layers of thick, folded skin. But his eyes are hidden behind bottlecap lenses. There’s no way to see if they reflect any joy.
“It did?” Luis whispers. Leon’s heart thudders. He stresses Gideon can hear it.
“Yes.” Gideon leers over them. Vulnerable under his stare, Grace shivers. “It’s impressive you managed to extract such a parasite from mere deposits of amber. It seemed like the benefits of being able to control the infected were appreciated by not just Saddler. You should feel proud.”
Leon grits his teeth. In his mind, he remembers a time cast in thick fog, when all he did was drown in hard liquor and roam the streets during sleepless nights. He remembers being asked about Los Illuminados, and having to force down bile.
Raccoon City is digging up every virus related trauma he’d been desperate to bury.
To Leon’s surprise, Luis doesn’t respond to Gideon with any more than a nervous, twitching smile. Sweat coats upon his forehead, soaking into dark veins. They pulse deeper than before. Now, Leon sees that Luis’ grip on Grace is only faint, and that Grace is mouthing whispers of concern and fear.
Gideon watches with an unwavering smile. His words are condemning.
“But Las Plagas is nothing compared to Elpis. It did not save people. It will not save you. You will die to that parasite, unable to witness as I cleanse this world.”
Despite Leon never moving with such desperate speed, it still isn’t fast enough. As soon as Luis collapses, Gideon is dragging Grace away with mangled hands, relishing in her panic. Her shriek is a banshee scream tearing into Leon’s soul.
Gideon ignores her. Instead, he turns to Luis, looking down upon him as if he were less than the undead, little more than a corpse.
“You are a foolish scientist, dying because of his own research. Mine will make me a God.”
Leon shoots at Gideon until gunfire is all he can hear. But Gideon and Grace are suddenly consumed by zombies, fading into nothing but guttural groans and desperate screams. Luis is a fire underneath him, steadily flickering away, scalding to touch.
Leon’s only choice is to pull Luis up and stumble up the stairs.
As Luis writhes beneath him all he can do is hope Grace can survive herself, as she promised. Helpless, he holds Luis, and prays for the miracle he never got the first time. He prays for Luis to live.