Chapter Text
“You have got to be shitting me.”
“Leon, I-I didn’t know what to do! I couldn't just leave him to die, you know?” Chris paced around the room, eyes stuck on the bloodslicked dining table and the near-dead body lying on it.
“What makes him different from the hundreds of other zombies you’ve shot without looking twice?” Leon stood and crossed his arms. He was well familiar with Chris’ guilty stare, but it still cut through him like hell every time.
“He asked for help!”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“He— Leon, look at him!” Chris gestured frantically at the stranger. “We have to save him if we can!”
“The savior inside me died a long time ago.”
“Oh, my god! Cut it out with that bullshit! You’re Leon fucking Kennedy!”
“I’m not who I used to be. I’m getting too old for this shit, Chris. We both are!”
“Really? You’re just.. going to say no? You’ve spent twenty-fucking-something years fighting just to give up?”
“I’m done. I’m done with this,” Leon lamented. “I’ve played my part, I’ve been the hero for long enough! I just want to fucking rest!”
The constant sting of terror in his chest bloomed into conscience again. It hadn’t gone away since Raccoon City.
It never went away. Twenty-eight years, and it never went away.
“Just because you want it to be over doesn’t mean it is. Keep your goddamn head up. I want to forget about all this and move on, too, but it’s not that easy!”
“Not for you, it’s not. I don’t have anything left— I never had anything!”
“Oh, cut the crap! You have Claire, Ada, Grace, Emily, Ashley, Sherry; you have me! Is that not enough? Am I not enough for you?”
“That’s not what this is about and you know it.” Leon gritted his teeth and put a hand on his husband’s shoulder.
“It is! You won’t fucking listen to me, Leon! I’m not letting you give up. I’ll drag you by your neck if I have to!”
“Then do it, asshole!”
Chris stood still for a moment, unable to find anything to say. He bit down on his lip and watched tears stream down Leon’s face.
“…I’m taking a walk.” The blond stepped back toward the door of the apartment, letting his hand fall on the handle. His ring slipped off and clattered onto the ground.
“Leon, wait.”
“What?”
“…Just.. I.. let’s talk this out. I don’t want to fight.”
“You’re doing a pretty shitty job, then.”
“Can you just sit down?”
“You switched up real fast.” Leon huffed, kneeling to grab his ring. “You afraid I’ll shoot myself?”
“…It’s not.. just.. that.”
“So, yes.” He coughed and reluctantly returned to his spot on the couch. “You don’t have to lie to me. We’ve been married for eighteen fuckin’ years.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“You’re a couple decades late,” Leon muttered sarcastically.
“Not what I meant,” Chris sighed and threw himself onto the cushions next to him. “Leon, I can’t let you give up on this. We’ve spent so long helping people and fixing what Umbrella’s done, and you’re just going to be finished?”
“I’m too old for this. I’m not the same rookie cop who survived Raccoon City, I don’t have anything left to fight with!”
“It’s not another outbreak! It’s just some unfortunate kid!”
“Don’t yell at me.”
“Why do you have to be so goddamn.. so weak!? Pull yourself together, Leon!”
Leon paused, stood again, and walked over to the kitchen. His back was turned, but Chris could still sense the pain in his expression as if it were his own.
Silence lingered in the air. Chris contemplated what the fuck he’d just said, and stared off out the window.
Forgetting was the next best thing to reversion.
“That…” Leon lazily uncapped a bottle of whiskey. “That takes the fucking cake, Chris.”
“I didn’t mean that.”
“So much for talking it out,” he put the mouth of the bottle to his lips and leaned against the counter.
“I’m sorry. Forget I said that. I didn’t mean it.”
“Fucking piece of shit,” Leon muttered, “Weak? Really? What happened to the times you’ve traced all my scars?”
“I said I’m sorry, Leon—“
“I remember how you clung to me after I got out of ARK. Fuckin’ nails digging into my back. And I’m the weak one.”
“How much have you had to drink tonight?” Chris asked sternly.
“Nothin’ ‘till now. What, you think all my feelings are just alcohol? Fuck that, and fuck you.”
“Lee. You’re taking this way out of proportion.”
“Sure, sure. Out of proportion. Like I haven’t been through hell and back.” He sniffled, wiping away tears and continuing to down the bottle. “What the fuck’s your problem?”
“It was an accident. It didn’t come out right. I’m sorry.”
“Say it like you mean it.”
“I’m fucking sorry, Leon! You want me on my knees?”
Claire’s bedroom door flew open. “Chris, can you stop yelling? I can’t fucking sleep.”
“It’s alright, Claire. Just an argument,” Chris took to his feet and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Who the fuck is that!?” She pointed at the dining table. “Argument my ass!”
“..Fuck. Right. I found him crashed and unconscious by a barn.”
“And he’s just been sitting there? While you two have some petty debate? Help him!”
Leon stiffened. “It’s not a petty debate. He told me—“
“I don’t care what he told you, there’s a dying man in our house!” She cried. “And put the bourbon down!”
Chris sighed and saw himself to removing the stranger’s extra layers and accessories. He handed his sister a green bag, to which she replied;
“He’s an organ courier. Huh.” Claire frowned and unzipped the bag, cautiously peeking inside as Chris examined the stranger’s condition.
A peculiar ichor emitted a faint glow from inside its container. The label read; ‘エルピス.’
“…Well, lookie here.”
“What is it?” Leon set the bottle on the counter, gritting his teeth at the slight thud of glass against marble. He stood at the other side of the table.
“A vaccine.”
“How do you know that from first glance?”
“It… says it’s Elpis.”
“What..?” Leon’s eyes darkened further. “How the fuck did he get Elpis!?”
“I don’t know!” Claire startled.
“Why would he even need it?” Chris pursed his lips.
The trio paused in thought for a second.
“I mean,” Leon sighed, “it looks a bit like Raccoon City Syndrome.”
“I thought there weren’t any more known survivors,” Claire hummed. Leon nodded affirmatively.
Chris cleared his throat. “So do we give it to him, or…”
Claire shrugged and picked up the vial. “Couldn’t hurt. Unless it could.”
“Let’s hope not,” Leon walked back to the kitchen.
Claire handed the sample to her brother as Leon found and returned with a syringe and his whiskey.
“I’ll do it,” Claire commanded, and took the syringe and serum back.
“Yes ma’am,” Leon replied sarcastically.
“…What is it you guys were fighting about?” She took the cap off the needle and stuck it into the antiviral, pulling the plunger back and watching the golden substance fill the barrel.
Chris stayed quiet.
“He.. uh, just misspoke.” Leon answered, as if he believed that.
“Mmhm.” Claire responded doubtfully, pressing two fingers against the infected man’s wrist to ensure he still had a pulse. “Uhh, alcohol?”
Leon handed her his bottle.
“..Fuckin, whatever.” She took it and doused a seemingly clean-ish part of the stranger’s beanie, pulling his sleeve up and pressing it against his upper arm.
“Chris?” Leon anxiously tapped his fingertips against the tabletop.
“Hm?”
“Do you mean.. what you said?” He stared at Chris, who refused to look back.
“…No.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
Leon nodded. “D’you promise?”
“What, that it’s over? I mean, I can’t say th…” he paused and cleared his throat again. “I— Yeah… yeah. I promise.”
Claire pressed the needle into the stranger’s skin and slowly pushed the medicine in.
“It’s Elpis, so it should work fast..” Leon remarked hopefully.
“Let’s hope,” Claire replied, putting her thumb against the wound to hold the bleeding somewhat steady.
The apartment went quiet for a moment. Anticipation grew, just to stagnate.
“…Maybe,” Leon added. “Can I have my whiskey back?”
“No.”
He groaned in retaliation.
“…Should we call Jill or something?” Chris perked up.
“Let’s see what happens with this kid first.” Claire waved a hand dismissively.
“Aye aye, cap’n…”
“Doesn’t he look a little.. scrawny?” Leon pointed out.
“Eh..” Chris shrugged. “So was Ethan.”
The stranger twitched. All three of them immediately jumped.
“Jesus. Hey, you there?” Claire put a hand on his shoulder. Leon covered the stranger’s mouth with his hand, just in case.
“Whghh…” he tried to speak.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe. Can you understand me?”
He opened his eyes slowly. Fatigue was clearly present in his face. “Mhhrh…”
“Take your fucking hand off his mouth,” Claire muttered and swatted it away, returning eye contact with the stranger. “You’re safe. We’ve got you.”
“Mi…chelle?” He coughed.
She shook her head candidly. “..No, I’m sorry. I’m Claire.”
“…Where am I?”
“Safety.” She cautiously stroked his hair. “Just rest. You’re gonna be all better soon.”
“I don’t want to die,” he choked out.
“You’re not going to die. We gave you a vaccine. Just… rest.”
He exhaled heavily and shut his eyes again.
Chris picked him up and gestured to the bathroom. Claire began to fill the bathtub as her brother carried the stranger in.
Leon took his bourbon back and watched from the dining room.
Chris placed the stranger in the shallow bathtub, pressing a damp cloth to his wounds. Claire followed suit with soap and water. He seemed to visibly relax.
Leon remembered how he’d done this for Grace.
How she’d called him ‘mom.’ How she had cried out for him. How she always knew he would help if she needed it. How she still called almost every day, and how relieving it was to be able to hear her voice and see her face and know that it really was all over.
He looked down at his calloused hand, and watched his fingers frame the bottle of whiskey.
He didn’t even notice the absence of his wedding ring.
The Redfields discussed something as they cleaned the stranger up. Leon didn’t process a word of it; his attention lied on the amber that swirled around the bottle he drank from.
Was it really over?