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As the adrenaline from the earlier fight slowly drained from his system, Leon became aware of the dull aches blooming beneath his skin, the stiff protest of old injuries and the quiet reminder of years that refused to be undone. Looks like Elpis didn’t cure anything in that department. It seemed, Age still collected its due.
Yet beneath the soreness, his body felt lighter than it had in years. His mind, once a storm of deep rooted memories and relentless guilt of Raccoon City, had settled into something steadier, something almost peaceful. And his heart… despite being dragged back through the corridors of his worst nightmares, the aftermath wasn’t as devastating as he had feared. If he allowed himself to admit it, he was content. Maybe even a little happy.
He slid his glove off, to carefully slip the familiar silver band onto his finger. The metal was cool against his skin, grounding and steady. A quiet promise he still carried. He exhaled softly, tension easing at the simple comfort of it.
After speaking with Sherry and Grace and tying up what loose ends he could on this side of the chaos, he finally made his way toward his car. Each step felt heavier with longing than exhaustion. He wanted no, he needed to go home. To his love. To his son. To the warmth of his life.
One of them was gone, yes. The absence would never truly fade. But he could still hold their son. He could still see echoes of the one they miss in the curve of a smile, in familiar eyes.
His hand reached for the car door handle, anticipation tightening in his chest.
“Mr. Kennedy,” a voice called out behind him, calm but insistent. “A minute, if you would?”
Leon glanced over his shoulder at the approaching footsteps. One of the Wolf pups jogged toward him, clad head to toe in tactical gear, visor down, insignia barely visible beneath dust and scrapes. Leon didn’t recognize him at first, but then the voice gave him away.
Rolando aka Umber Eyes.
“What is it?” Leon asked, turning fully now.
“Boss wants a word with you,” the soldier said, extending a comms device toward him.
Leon made no move to take it. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest, the fabric of his shirt creasing softly as it stretched over the muscle of his arms.
“And what if I don’t want to have a word with him?” he shot back, one brow arching.
Rolando froze mid gesture, still holding the device out like an offering. He knew this routine. He’d seen it before. But that didn’t make standing between his commanding officer and his commander’s stubborn husband any less uncomfortable.
The comm crackled faintly.
“Tell that little shit he can’t ignore me like this after what he pulled.”
Rolando went rigid.
He absolutely could not repeat that.
He coughed awkwardly instead, nudging the comm unit forward another inch. “He… uh… insists.”
Leon caught the tension immediately. His eyes narrowed slightly, then he sighed and rolled them skyward. Of fucking course.
He uncrossed his arms and finally took the device, pressing it to his ear. “Oh yeah?” he drawled, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Wanna see how I do it?” There was a bite of sarcasm there, but it lacked real heat.
On the other end, Chris huffed sharply.
“Leon, I swear,” Chris snapped, voice tight with lingering adrenaline and something dangerously close to worry. “You still have the brass neck to argue with me after what you just did?”
Leon’s expression softened just a fraction, though his tone stayed even.
“I had to do my job.”
“Without informing me?” Chris shot back, his voice rising before he forced it under control. The strain in it was unmistakable. “You didn’t even tell me where you were going. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead, Leon. If it wasn’t for Sherry–” He exhaled sharply. “For once, I couldn’t do a goddamn thing because I’m stuck in hiding. And forget about me, did you even think about Erik?”
The words hit harder than the earlier fight ever could.
Leon closed his eyes briefly.
He did regret not telling him. Regret settled heavy in his chest like wet concrete. But he couldn’t apologize for going. Couldn’t apologize for doing what he believed had to be done. He hadn’t even known if he would make it back alive. That was the truth of it.
That was why he had sent Erik to Claire.
Their five year old had clung to his jacket that morning, bright eyes searching his face. “Where are you going, Papa?” asking in his little nimble voice.
His lower lip trembled despite his effort to steady it, wobbling as he fought back tears he didn’t want to shed. He was trying so hard to be brave.
Always a little brave, just like Chris.
Leon had crouched down then, brushing a thumb over those plump cheeks, memorizing the warmth of them. Erik had sniffed, blinking rapidly, shoulders squared in that stubborn, Redfield way. As if courage meant not crying.
It had nearly broken him.
And even now, leaning against the car with the echo of that memory fresh in his chest, Leon felt the ache of it all over again.
But Leon couldn’t stay after hearing about the Racoon city survivors death. Some ghosts of the past didn’t let you sit still.
He couldn’t blame Chris for his anger either. Chris was already neck deep in his own war against the BSAA, isolated, hunted, carrying the weight of command and betrayal. And now this.
Leon disappearing without a word, was like gasoline on an already raging fire.
At least Leon had been able to hold their son before he left. Chris hadn’t even had that luxury now.
Leon exhaled slowly, forcing the tension from his shoulders. He leaned back against his car, metal cool through his shirt as he slouched slightly, eyes drifting toward the rescue camp the Wolf Squad had set up. Tactical lights cut through the dusk.
The pups were here.
Which meant the Big Bad Wolf was alone.
Only because he sent them here, to help him.
Leon pressed the comm closer to his ear. His voice had lost its edge when he spoke again.
“I thought about him,” he said quietly. “That’s why I made sure he was safe.”
A pause.
“And I knew if I told you… you would’ve tried to stop me. Or worse. you would’ve come.”
He let that hang between them.
“I–” Leon began, the word catching slightly in his throat. He swallowed. “I don’t regret coming here. But for your sake… I’ll say I’m sorry.”
“Spare me that, Leon.” Chris’s voice was tight, like he was holding something fragile together with sheer force. Anger was easier than vulnerability.
Leon’s thumb brushed slowly over the silver band on his finger, grounding himself in the familiar ridge of metal. “I’m okay now, Chris. I didn’t come here expecting a cure, but… turns out that’s exactly what I found. I’m going back home.”
A beat of silence.
“Did Elpis really cure it?” Chris asked, quieter now. Hope threading carefully through the question.
Leon glanced toward Grace across the camp before answering. “Yeah. It did. I haven’t felt this good in years.”
On the other end, Chris let out a breath that sounded like it had been trapped in his lungs for months.
“Don’t do this again, Leon,” he murmured. “Just… think of Erik first.”
Erik.
Baby blue eyes. Dark silky hair, thin lips. Plump cheeks that still held the softness of childhood. A perfect, living blend of both of them. Leon’s chest tightened painfully at the thought. He needed to see his son. Needed to feel those small arms around his neck. He should text Claire and let her know he was coming to pick him up.
“When I get home, I’ll send you pictures of him again,” Leon said gently. “I won’t ask when you’re coming back but… try to keep me updated.”
The irony wasn’t lost on him. His voice faded at the end, aware of the hypocrisy. But Chris didn’t call him out on it.
“I will,” Chris replied. Then, frustration cracked through. “I miss you two so much, goddamn it. I just–” He exhaled sharply. “I really want to hold you after everything.”
Leon’s vision blurred faintly, his eyes stinging. He blinked it away, smiling despite himself. “Oh yeah? Then finish your job and get back here. I’ll be waiting for you at home.”
A softer pause this time.
“I love you.”
The words had weight. Everything mattered.
“I love you too,” Leon answered, voice thick, before ending the transmission.
He lowered the comm unit slowly. Rolando approached once he saw the call had ended.
As Leon handed it back, he caught the younger man’s wrist, fingers tightening with quiet urgency. His voice was heavy but steady.
“Bring him back home to me, Rolando.”
The soldier didn’t hesitate. “You have my word, Leon.”
Leon released him with a small nod.
He opened the door of his Porsche, sliding into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life beneath his hands, a familiar purr vibrating through the frame. He cast one last glance at the battered skyline of the city, at the smoke, the lights and the ghosts.
Then he drove.
Out of the godforsaken ruins.
Toward home, and this time, someone was waiting for him.