Chapter Text
“My sons…your pain isn’t a monster you can fight. Or run from. Accept it as a part of you. It’s exactly…what connects you two the most.”
…
“?!” Dante dodged another bullet from Leon’s sniper rifle, just barely, though. He took refuge in the spidery, harsh shadows that expanded across the massive, well-kept lawn. Dante’s eyes, electric blue that glowed in the blackness, took up his entire face.
Leon’s eyes were dangerous slits. He reloaded quietly, staying crouched. What ran in his veins was hot-white, unadulterated rage— his hair fell into his eyes, his teeth clenched in an unnerving, wide grin.
Quiet as a mime, the blonde beauty rose to his feet. He twisted his body, backwards, forwards, to the side, before slinking across the beautifully carved stone. His hips swayed, his back prostrate.
Dante could smell him. Dante could hear his heart beating. And yet, the half-demon was frozen in place.
“...” Dante peered from the corner of his eye. A tiny, unblinking red dot caressed the grass frivolously, temporarily extinguishing the glistening blue-green for a solid, unforgiving crimson. Dante tilted his head back, relaxing his lower jaw.
Eucalyptus, freshly picked, encompassed by raw, consuming smoke. Leon’s scent was a ghost of what it used to be. It was clean, but superficial, obscuring the rot growing inside him.
“!!” Dante leaped out of the shadows as the rifle bullet sliced a hole into the night. It zipped past Dante’s right ear, leaving the skin there slightly burning.
Dante ducked, dropped, and rolled. He glided across the massive lawn on his heels, turning around to deflect another bullet with Rebellion’s long, wicked silver tongue.
Leon was revealed from the shadows. They retreated behind him, pulled back like a curtain; Leon’s eyes were silver in the moonlight, his hair pleated platinum. His angular, sharp face lost definition to the blackness—he sauntered in Dante’s direction, his sniper rifle back against his long, muscular back. He unsheathed his combat knife from its holster behind his back.
“Leon…”
Leon was silent. His smile was gone, replaced by a smoldering glower. He threw himself forward, his knife not high above his head but waist-length.
CLANG!
Rebellion stopped Leon’s combat knife from digging into Dante’s side. Despite the feather-light collision, light sweat pooled against Dante’s temple. Leon grunted, but was on the move again—he dug his left heel into the dirt, his right leg swinging like a pendulum. Dante hissed as he caught Leon’s leg before it met his stomach, his pale, dexterous fingers kneading the tense, taut muscle underneath Leon’s dark jeans.
Leon snarled, an inhuman sound expanding his ribcage. Under the moonlight, his eyes jumped from ice-blue to ghostly-white. A faint tremor coursed down his spine—Dante’s heart clenched, an agonizing chill in his bones.
“That night, if our positions were switched…would our fates be different?”
…
Vergil’s pleas died on his tongue. He was frozen in place, his aqua eyes pale in the firelight. He was on his knees, surrounded by tall, hulking brutes. Their claws were drenched in red, dripping, and leaving damning stains on the carpet floor.
Vergil opened his mouth to shout for his mother, to beg for her protection. His voice would come out tinny, pathetic, but surely his voice, among the rubble, would ring louder than any bell? Even in the depths of Hell, an angel’s cry runs true.
Then…he saw her.
Her luscious, always soft blonde hair; her thin, chisled face, usually warm and inviting, now pale with her skin stretched tightly over her bones; the long, heavy skirt of her maroon-red dress, her matching shawl cascading down her back.
Vergil’s mother. His mother!
‘Mama! Mama, I’m here!’ Vergil heard his voice in his head, echoing like within the confines of an old church. Relief brought some color to his cheeks, and he smiled despite the tears in the corners of his eyes.
She was running! She was carrying Dante in her arms! Dante was alive! They’re going to escape, they’ll be fine!
‘MAMA!’
…But Eva didn’t stop running. She didn’t look around; she didn’t shout Vergil’s name through the chaos. She didn’t stop, she kept on running. Eva kept running, Dante in tow, her heels muffled by the ruined carpeting.
‘M….M-Mama?!’
Eva ran with Dante in tow. She didn’t look over her shoulder, didn’t falter, or panic. She ran, trying to escape the tall, hulking brutes that set their once peaceful home ablaze.
Dante buried his face in his mother’s shoulder, trembling. His short, white hair danced along with the flames, ricocheting off wide windows and smooth marble. He looked like a puppet with no strings in his mother’s embrace: limp, uninhabited, detached.
“...?!” Vergil’s voice died on his tongue. He was frozen in place, his aqua eyes pale in the firelight. He was on his knees, surrounded by tall, hulking brutes. Their claws were drenched in red, dripping, and leaving damning stains on the carpet floor. Their mandibles housed serrated blades for teeth; their towering frames filled whatever space was left, and Vergil’s vision went black.
A lonely tear escaped his left eye, and then…it was nothingness.
A little boy.
He was beautiful. He was a beautiful, giggly mess. He sat at the foot of Vergil’s favorite chair, playing with a stuffed bear. He was a tiny boy with tiny hands and feet. He had a tiny nose, a tiny mouth, with white hair cropped short. He had a tiny nose and tiny mouth, but his eyes were big. They were too big for his beautiful, round face: the size of two moons, touching his short eyebrows. The little boy tried getting his stuffed bear to sit up, pouting adorably when his toy instead slumped to the floor. “...” Vergil parted his lips, yet he couldn’t string two words together.
“What are you doing in Daddy’s study by yourself, sweet boy?” A deep, musical voice purred out of frame.
Vergil blinked. Then, in all his glory, enters Leon S. Kennedy. He was smiling, dressed down; the little boy smiled, quickly getting to his tiny feet; Leon opened his arms just as the little boy launched himself against his chest, cooing and nuzzling his cheek above a strong, beating heart. “Hahaha, there’s my little Nero,” Leon whispered, scattering kisses all over the little boy’s face. Leon held the little boy close, walking over to pick up his stuffed bear. The little boy squealed, hugging it once again—Leon carded his fingers through the little boy’s hair, his eyes bright and alluring.
“...”
“You gotta stay close, okay? Don’t go explore without me.”
“Mama!” The little boy said, pressing his lips to Leon’s nose. “Mama, Mama, Mama,” he said over and over, which only made Leon chuckle.
“Yes, Nero. Mama’s here, and Mama will always be here. I promise you, sweet boy,” Leon whispered. He took one of the little boy’s hands and brought it to his lips, kissing his knuckles. “Mama loves you, Nero. Mama loves you very much.”
“...”
“Vergil?” Leon placed a hand on the white-haired man’s shoulder. Vergil blinked owlishly, seemingly freed from his trance. He turned to Leon, whose frown deepened. “Are you alright? You went quiet for a bit.”
“I…I saw something.” Vergil said, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat sharply, the pinched skin between his brows smoothing out.
“You saw something? What?” Leon prodded gently, cupping Vergil’s face with both hands. He ran his thumbs along his cheeks, trying to decipher his lover’s puzzled expression through just his eyes.
“I saw…I saw my happiness.” Vergil finally replied, exhaling heavily. His lips pressed into a thin, delicate line. When Leon stared, unsure what to say, the white-haired man rested his hands on his hips. He squeezed gently, carefully kneading before drawing Leon close until they were chest to chest. Vergil then cupped Leon’s face, marveling at the tiny details.
The little boy had Leon’s wide eyes. They weren’t the same color, but the same size and depth. When the little boy smiled, a dimple appeared in his cheek. The little boy’s nose wasn’t as sharp as Vergil’s, but it had his strong bridge. He was…perfect, and while he was merely a mirage, along with the Leon that cooed at him, it was perfection. Perfection, beauty, strength, and potential all in one; Vergil and Leon conceived something unique, different—it was their child, the fruit of their love.
Vergil…Vergil wanted that. Vergil wanted that little fruit of their love to be real. And he hoped Leon would want that too.
Because when he looked into that little boy’s eyes, he saw Leon. He saw purity, beauty, kindness…he saw what his father saw in his mother.
He saw what made Sparda kneel willingly.
“Your happiness?” Leon echoed, disrupting Vergil’s train of thought. He watched his lover blink slowly, contemplating something. “Were you not happy before…?”
“You misunderstand,” Vergil replied, his voice softer than before. A hint of a smile, relaxed yet elegant, touched the corners of Vergil’s mouth. He sighed as he brought Leon into a warm embrace, one hand resting on the back of his lover’s neck. “You make me happier than I ever thought possible. The anguish deep in my bones seems less…consuming when around you, Leon. I’m happy with you because you hold the keys to my happiness. You yourself are one of those keys.”
“So, you were seeing another key to your happiness?” Despite not having the full picture, Leon didn’t take long to follow Vergil’s lead. He took one of Vergil’s hands, lacing their fingers together. The constant storm in Leon’s eyes vanished in an instant—he rarely felt the need to maintain his cold, professional front in Vergil’s presence. They were equals in every way but strength, yet…Vergil felt that the truth was now misleading.
“Yes, another key. Another key that I don’t…deserve, yet you give me.” Vergil said as he tightened his arms around Leon. He sighed silently, his cheek pressed against his lover’s shoulder. “You open doors I didn’t think existed for me, Leon. I can never find the right words to express that, or thank you enough.”
Leon folded his arms around Vergil’s waist. He turned his head slightly to brush his lips across his lover’s cheek; Leon trembled as he felt Vergil’s heart beat in tandem with his, faster and louder yet not once falling out of step. Their heartbeats intermingling was a song that Leon had known for the past six years—like a beacon in his darkest days, a guiding light. Almost everything in Leon’s life post-Raccoon City was rigid, detached, and harsh. There was little space for warmth, comfort, and a sense of normalcy. Vergil was far from normal, but what he brought to Leon’s life was normal. What Vergil brought to Leon’s life was what Leon wanted, regardless of the vehicle his wants arrived in.
Vergil saved Leon. So Leon wanted to give himself to Vergil in every way possible. That’s what love is.
“Are you going to tell me what other key to your happiness you were daydreaming about?”
“Ha, perhaps sometime in the near future.”
“Ah, so never.” Leon deadpanned, snorting, amused.
Vergil’s smile broadened. “You and your mysteries, hun.”
“Believe me, this mystery will unravel faster for you than it will for me.”
“That human’s life leads to the creation of an abomination far greater than the sons of Sparda…I’ve tolerated its existence for Vergil, but I’ve also seen where this path leads…my throne will NOT be defiled, it will not pass hands. That abomination…will not see the light of day…”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll get him back.”
Leon’s eyes traced Dante’s face. The icy look in his eyes, that harsh set of his jaw—it faltered for a minute as he gazed at his mother’s face, perfectly preserved in a tiny photo tucked into a golden locket. For a minute, the deep lines in Dante’s face lessened, revealing just how young he was.
Dante then looked at Leon. “I’ve appreciated your help thus far, Angel. Now you sit tight while I wrap this entire mess up.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m staying on the sidelines,” Leon growled, ravenous-looking despite heavy bandages around his left leg.
The demons that came after Leon and Jill had been particularly prickly. One of its large, jagged teeth had pierced flesh, but no poison or infection was detected. Dante had heard the two demons chanting, “Slice it to ribbons, leave it in pieces!” their entire fight with Dante, Jill, and Leon, every movement thrumming with madness. There was a feral-like mania to their limbs, in their bulbous eyes.
It. They wanted to kill it.
Dante thumbed his nose, smiling a cool smile that made Leon’s blood boil. “You’re badass, Leon. I know that—you were badass back in New York City, and now you’re every man’s power fantasy. Seeing you like this is surreal. I don’t know which urge is stronger: to murder every bastard involved in turning you into this, or to praise every inch of you, right here, right now, inside and out.”
“Touch me, and I break your neck.”
“Wouldn’t unless you asked,” Dante assured Leon with a soft, fond giggle. His expression sobered a little, his smile melancholic. “What I would give to have taken those hits for you…in a world too loud and dark for its own good, you are a way the sun comes through.”
“...Are?”
“You think your supersoldier prowess, sick new dye job, and dark, broody aura are a turn-off?” Dante’s eyes widened an inch. Leon’s glower hardened. “No, no, far from it. This side of you is growing on me. And it’s been a real eye-opener.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Leon snapped, agitated with Dante’s vague speech.
Dante giggled again.
“I’m talking about how I treated you before. As a breakable, fragile human, even when you handled your own against the White Rabbit. No matter what happened back then, I couldn’t shake off that stupid mindset. I was thinking, like how my father probably thought: even if the one we loved was powerful, we took that power away from them.”
Leon’s eyes widened an inch this time. “I made the same mistake as Vergil, seeing your humanity as a weakness, but not in the same way he did. I saw it as too fragile to stand on its own, as needing my demonic half to balance it. I wanted to protect your humanity so badly…I didn’t see that it was me who needed protecting.”
Leon’s hands trembled at his sides. He looked down, his teeth clenched under his lips. “...”
“I needed protecting from the truth. I didn’t see what more you could become—I came into this seeing you as corrupted, when in actuality you always had that darkness inside you, Leon.” Dante rested his hands on his hips, Rebellion slung across his back. “You had that darkness inside you, but you used it to make yourself kinder. Even when you were forced into this service, you saw it as a way to help people. You’ve done more for humanity now than you would have done as a police officer…you don’t need my protection, Leon. You need my understanding.”
“I don’t need anything from you,” Leon whispered, rolling his eyes. Yet again, he put on his passive mask. “This isn’t about how I feel, or what I need. This is about stopping Mundus before both Makai and the Human realm are his. Demon or human, a tyrant is a tyrant, and a tyrant will always excuse his tyranny. I refuse to allow his tyranny to destroy any further.”
That includes Vergil.
Dante’s heart quivered. “So don’t talk to me like I’m not part of this. I am, and I’m seeing this through.”
“It’s not going to be easy,” Dante said, though he blinked when Leon smirked.
“If I had to choose, it wouldn’t be. But I don’t have to choose, Dante.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll see what I mean later,” Leon replied smoothly, brushing his hair back. How he flicked his wrist, tilted back his head, and sighed was scarily familiar; Dante’s stomach roiled. “Now, drop the hero act and let’s get down to business.”
“Right. You can join in! Later.”
“What?” Leon barely had time to react before Dante tossed him into a nearby cell. Toss is one way to put it; Dante actually lifted Leon into his arms and sat him down on the hard, cold cot, shutting the gate before Leon could get up. “You asshole! Let me out!” Leon snarled, sending a roundhouse kick the high-tech lock’s way. It left a dent, but didn’t budge. “Let me out!”
“Sorry, Leon, but I can’t. You’re good, real good, but I think the less exposure you get, the better.” Dante said as he shoved Ebony and Ivory into their respective holsters.
Leon growled and resumed kicking the lock. “I get this weird feeling that Mundus would want you out on the battlefield.”
“You expect me to sit this out?!”
“If it means keeping you safe, yeah,” Dante said as he tossed something shiny, round, and golden towards Leon. A hole opened up in the cage, allowing the locket to land in Leon’s hands before sealing closed once again.
“??” Leon swallowed hard. He cradled the locket with both hands, swallowing hard as he pressed down on the tiny hatch and opened it.
Eva’s all-seeing eyes stared up at him. She looked as regal and kind as Vergil described her, even if he spoke of her with a touch of bitterness. Her long, flowing hair, warm smile, and thin, beautiful face…she looked straight out of a fairytale, the nameless maiden that would become queen down the road. Leon swallowed hard; this was supposed to be his mother-in-law, someone he once hoped beyond hope that, if she ever got to meet him, would approve of him for Vergil.
And the next picture in the locket was of Dante and Vergil when they were kids.
“...”
Leon has never seen pictures of Vergil as a child before. His childhood was drenched in pain, veiled in misery—Leon’s own wasn’t much better, so both men buried their child selves and looked towards the future. Sometimes, that past is too painful to revisit.
But this boy…this boy with wide, wide eyes, wearing a sweater vest over a crisp, buttoned-up white shirt, gangly and pale with his hair perfectly styled back…this was nearly one-to-one how Leon envisioned a kid Vergil. He stood tall, only an inch taller than Dante. Unlike Dante, who sported a lazy smile—victory pose included—Vergil stared straight into the camera. His arms were at his sides, his mouth in a perfect, thin line.
He looked so serious, yet innocent. He looked curious but put up a front. This…this was Leon’s Vergil.
“Cute kid, huh?” Dante asked, about to walk out of the room. He braced his hand against the doorway, watching as tears flooded Leon’s once unfeeling blue eyes. “Always a stick in the mud, that one. But Vergil was always a great fighter, and…you never once saw him with a messy collar.”
Leon exhaled sharply. He was on his knees, biting his lower lip. His tears streamed down his thin, sharp cheeks, pooling inside the locket. One tear pelted kid Vergil’s tiny, round face, the other landed on his impeccable sweater vest; another landed on the lively grass, and another landed on kid Dante’s nose.
“...Vergil.”
“He loves you, Leon,” Dante whispered, swallowing around the lump in his throat. His hand balled into a fist against the doorway. He hung his head, his long, unruly white bangs hiding his watery eyes. “He loves you. I haven’t seen him look at someone else the way he looks at you…he lied to you, but because he was afraid he’d lose you too.”
“You’re excusing him n-now?”
“Ha, it’d be excuses if it weren’t the truth.” Dante’s mouth twisted into a pained smile. His shoulders slumped. “...You mean more to him than I’ll ever understand. Like with me, you’ve touched him in a way he’ll never recover from. You gave him hope, Leon. You gave him hope that someone loves him, and that you’d never abandon him. You talk a lot of shit, haha, but I see it in your eyes…you don’t want Vergil ruined. You want him saved; that makes two of us.”
Leon’s lower lip quivered, his teeth stained in a faint red. “I’m getting him back, Leon. For Mom, for me, and for you.”
“Dante!” Leon shouted, but the man in red waltzed out of the room. He trembled violently, like a leaf in winter, as he crushed the locket against his chest. His bones turned to jelly, and Leon slumped to the cold, unforgiving floor. His tears sparkled as they ran down his smooth, heated skin—Leon swallowed hard, gritting his teeth. “Dante, please…p-please…” Leon choked out, dry-heaving onto the floor. “Please…”
Dante stood just outside the door. He was still as a statue, Leon’s plea ringing in his ears. He nodded solemnly, his footfalls light yet with purpose.
“Bad idea, my guy,” Carlos growled, keeping the tiny, red dot smack down between HUNK’s eyes.
The masked man kept the mouth of his gun pressed against Leon’s temple, the pretty blonde nearly thrashing in place, trying to escape. “How about we talk this out, hmm? Drop Kennedy, and I drop my aim.”
“So you still don’t remember,” HUNK whispered, his voice raspy, grainy. His voice rang in Leon’s ear, HUNK’s arm a vice grip around his waist. “I’m disappointed, Leon. This isn’t like you.”
“Got tired of stalking me on missions, Grim Reaper?” Leon barked, close to grinding his teeth into dust. He didn’t wince as HUNK dug his piece harder into Leon’s temple. Leon smirked, his blue eyes glinting. “Not a complete one-eighty from your usual act, though the gun’s a bit much-”
“Still snappy, ha. So you’re still in there somewhere.”
“Leon, can you not be you for a minute?” Carlos asked, torn between heart-stopping adrenaline and raw, barely contained agitation. “Let him go, HUNK. Whatever Leon did to piss you off, take it elsewhere—kick back a couple of beers, and you’ll be good again.”
“Oliveira, still sore over our last dance, I see.” HUNK purred, a smile in his voice. “Again, I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just a one-man kind of guy.”
Carlos’s eyes widened, as did Leon’s. HUNK kept his haunting, red stare on Carlos, his gloved hand faintly caressing Leon’s side. “And I want him back in one piece. I’ve had enough of this pathetic excuse for my Bella.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Sons of Sparda…D.C.’s looking rough, with those two using it as their personal playground.” HUNK went on, shaking his head slightly. “Those rabid dogs are off their leash. We don’t have time for petty family drama—the Demon realm and our world are converging.” A hint of panic flooded HUNK’s tone, his throat tight. “The collision is inevitable, and if you two want fewer and fewer caskets filled, we end this childish tug-of-war. Now.”
“Kind of hard to when you’re going hot and heavy on me!” Leon exclaimed, throwing his head back. The masked man didn’t stagger.
HUNK laughed, light sweat dripping down Leon’s brow.
“Then remember, Bella. Remember.”
“W-why do you keep calling me that?!”
“Not jogging your memory? What about Alice?” HUNK asked. Leon’s thrashing softened a little. “Alice, I always hated it when he called you that…”
“A-Alice?”
“He promised your death as soon as the wall came down. When it wasn’t him, it was Baines bopping you around like a ragdoll—both have taken something from you.” HUNK’s gloved hand yanked on Leon’s hair, forcing the blonde to expose his smooth, pale neck. Carlos snarled, but didn’t move an inch as HUNK trailed the mouth of his Lightning Hawk along Leon’s collarbone. “They’ve both taken something from you; now it’s for you to return the favor. No one owns you, Bella. So prove it. Prove. It.”
“?!”
“Please…don’t do this to him. K-kill me if you want, but don’t do this to him. Please!”
“I suggest holding still, Mr. Kennedy. This will be the last time you’ll see Dante, the last time you’ll remember him.”
“D-Dante! No, Dante, no! DANTE!”
“Stay calm. It’ll only hurt worse if you struggle.”
“DANTE!”
Choking, spitting, and wheezing, followed by an inhuman stillness as Leon’s body went limp, his eyes disappearing back into his skull. His vitals slowed considerably, his breathing shallow yet visible, audible.
“How long until it takes effect?”
“If we administer the serum three times a day on strict hours, it’ll take effect in a week. He won’t remember anything, sir.”
“Perfect.”
“Baines…B-Baines…”
“You served as Alice to both him and the White Rabbit. They stole you away from me, Bella. But I want you back.” Leon groaned as HUNK kicked him in the back, forcing the blonde onto his knees. Carlos yelled, but HUNK kept his Lightning Hawk on the back of Leon’s neck. Leon exhaled, his eyes darker than before. “You didn’t die six years ago. You were always there. I need you…they need you.”
“G…Grim?” Leon uttered, slowly turning his head to look into those round, empty ruby eyes.
Carlos paled, his heart thudding sporadically behind his ears. He stared, flabbergasted, as Leon, still on the ground, turned his body toward HUNK. Those dark blue eyes were wide, Leon’s pupils sickle-shaped, as he breathed in through his open mouth.
“...Hmph. Just don’t expect me to look after the runt at your whim.” HUNK snapped. He then slid his Lightning Hawk back into its holster before holding his hand out to Leon.
Carlos watched on, uneasy. But Leon accepted HUNK’s hand without hesitation; Carlos watched as HUNK drew Leon in, brushing their foreheads together for a millisecond before relaxing, pulling away. “Get your ass in gear, Bella.”
“Right behind you, Grim. Carlos, you’re coming with us—get in touch with Jill, Chris, and Claire. We’re going to need the whole team, stat.”