Chapter Text
we can’t let this thing spread. it’s on you now.
it was funny, how aware he felt. the choice of fearing or embracing death mere moments before the imminent end. was he afraid?
leon s. kennedy, remembered as the twenty-one year old rookie cop who died on duty.
he felt faint, a mix of dizziness and exhaustion from the searing pain that rocked throughout his entire body. and maybe he should’ve considered it sheer cruelty, that the only fight left was his mind reminiscing on that hellish september night.
marvin’s last words had been a command, a lieutenant guiding his subordinate. and leon, desperate to help, promised to honor his every word.
but what hope was there as he lay bleeding out on the cold, sewer floor, his vision fading. it made him wonder if it’d been futile all along.
showing up to this mess of a city, trying to make some sort of difference. if he stayed put like he was told, waited for the professionals to “save the day” like he always trusted they would, could things have turned out differently?
he expected the first day on the job to play out like a classic hollywood movie: a warm greeting from his colleagues, pats on the back, cheers after solving the little puzzle at his desk. hell, maybe even a chance to work with the illustrious S.T.A.R.S officers just on the floor above.
nothing could’ve prepared him for the loss faced that night.
elliot edward, marvin branagh, robert kendo, and his little girl, emma.
his mind repeated the names over and over, as if it’d bring them back. he imagined their silhouettes, the effect of the city that left them bloody and bruised, even gruesomely bitten. he could see each of them staring back–lifeless and dull–as if blaming him without a word.
no, it wasn’t death he was scared of–it was the harrowing guilt that stuck faster than any bullet could.
he failed them–he was failing raccoon city–despite every pledge made the moment he’d been sworn in. he remembers standing on that academy stage, the highest-ranking recruit, ready to protect all those lives standing in front of him and beyond. he beamed with pride when the sergeant assigned him to raccoon city, eager to get straight to business.
leon thought of claire in that moment–the shared eagerness getting to the city–so fueled by hope in finding her brother, in surviving.
have i failed her too? he debated, unaware of her current whereabouts, of her safety.
she’d make it out, he’s sure of it.
–but was it a mistake bringing her into this nightmare for someone nowhere to be found?
and would he be able to manage the weight of marvin’s order? could he gain justice for the mothers and fathers like kendo? carry on the little faith that this city would see another day?
he should’ve listened to every warning, turned on the heel the second he dared to step into the R.P.D, should’ve realized it was impossible from the start–
“hey!”
the voice pierced through his spiral, feeling a slight pat against his cheek as he stirred. it was endearing almost, choosing the embrace of death, letting it pull him deeper and deeper into the abyss.
until that very voice too, willed him to survive.
“don’t die on me, rookie, not yet.”
the immediate, excruciating ache against his wound drew a sharp curse from his lips, his body shot right back into reality. one hand that was not his own continued to apply pressure, the other unbuckling his vest in haste. leon whined hoarsely against the damp floor, hit with the biting scent of burnt flesh and fresh blood. his blood, eased by familiar florals and a hint of amber.
it must’ve been fate yet again, the individual spewing a similar curse at his many layers obstructing the wound.
lilies among the rot, the confidence of her every word–he’d recognize it anywhere without even needing to look.
ada.
he almost laughed, finding them in the same pattern that ensued all night–because who other than the woman who’d already saved his ass twice by now? and so what if he’d been counting? this would be the third.
the moment the fog in his vision started to clear, he found himself gazing at her in agonizing bliss. she worked to prevent his end, dragging him back to life with each buckle and tear of fabric.
what’re you doing? he thought to himself, unsure if it was a question for himself or for ada, nearly gawking as his vision pieced together every bit of her.
and seeing her now, thankfully unharmed–broken glasses and discarded leather gloves to the side, getting her hands bloody of him–all he could do was sigh. a singular life he’s been able to save, even if it could’ve cost him his own. he managed to smirk at the sentiment in spite of the pain, perhaps wearing it too long when she stared back with an unimpressed expression.
“she didn’t hit anything major.” ada muttered as she tore away at his sleeve, soaked from the blood-loss.
annette birkin–right. probably making her grand escape as he laid there helplessly.
“she–” he forced his voice to utter with a puff of breath, harsh and strained, “–is getting away. i told you to go.”
ada only tilted her head with a smirk, unbothered. “unfortunately, letting you bleed out won't be good for my resume.”
the furrow in his brow only deepened, and she shrugged.
“i’ll worry about it later,” a dismissive mutter, watching the exasperated rise and fall of his chest. the assurance did little to ease the tension in his body, keeping his gaze fixed on her.
“ada–”
“later, leon,” her reply was curt and concise, another pattern he’d grown ‘fond’ of. he sensed the annoyance too, feeling the huff of her own agitation hit the tip of his nose. he wondered if it was the reminder or the breathy use of her name.
or maybe because the air felt thick, tied with the stretch of silence and a tension neither refused to name, only broken only by the rasp of his breathing and the faint rustle of her hands. at that point, he lay completely bare-chested, attire a pile set to the side.
it was a bloody star engraved into his shoulder—its weeping finally sated—marking him with a grim, eternal badge. and the wistfulness in her eyes, (though he’s sure she’d deny it), lingered just enough to be noticed, vanishing the moment her mouth opened again.
“we wouldn’t even be here you know,” she started, looking up to shoot him a glare. “had you just found a way out hours ago like i said.”
he gave an airy chuckle, much to her disdain. “and let you deal with annette alone? yeah, fat chance.”
“i can handle myself,” she reached for his belt, fingers passing over his abdomen. he watched her slip marvin’s combat knife out of it’s holster with ease, like she’d done it a million times with various sets of knives. she set the blade aside too, and leon only hoped the blood-loss kept his face pale.
“...i don’t doubt that. but would it really kill you to let me help?” he looked at her earnestly when she didn't respond. “–more than an evil scientist anyway,” he jested.
her lips pressed into a thin line, along with a faint crease formed between her brows, irritation settling over her features like armor.
“please.” a beg, rather than a question.
she looked ready to spin another retort, leon watching as her lips pursed, her eyes sharp and instinctive as ever—but the words never came. he wanted to question it–the desperation to keep her distance, as if letting him in would unravel something she had fought so hard to keep together.
“you’re one stubborn asshole, you know that?” ada whispered, gently trailing his wound like he was fragile.
“yeah–” right back at ‘ya, he wanted to say. “shame annette didn’t have better aim,” he sat up against the wall with a shaky grunt, blinking one too many times when her hand reached against his chest–right over his heart–to still him. “...guess you’ll just have to keep putting up with me,” he chuckled weakly, and this time, he managed to pull a small smile out of her.
they sat there like that, smiling sheepishly like they had all the time in the world. the realization must’ve hit her too, when she leaned back and turned away, depriving him of her warmth as the cool air swept over his chest. he got a good look at her face then, without the glasses and mystery, seeing the focus in her brow as she cut his white undershirt into strips.
bandages.
she was crafty, he’d give her that.
in fact, he learned quite quickly who she was behind her steel resolve: a pretty, sharp-tongued enigma. she’d throw her witty replies at his questions, bark at him to leave when given the chance, and he learned to ignore her. their banter seemed like a childish game to him with every sarcastic remark he’d fire back, biting back a smile when her brows furrowed and lips pouted. it was like seeing a cat’s fur prickle at the slightest drop of water.
but even despite feeling a little cocky at being able to get under her skin, to keep the game going, he knew deep down he wouldn’t leave her side. he remembered that promise to the city–to himself–protect as many lives as possible and deliver the justice they deserved.
and if staying by her side meant gaining that exact justice he was seeking, then she’d really be stuck with him till, moreso, his dreadful end.
and he’d take that outcome in a heartbeat.
–then again, much wouldn’t get done with ada disregarding her mission and aiding him back to health. he’d given her the perfect out to finish what they started, yet here she was, steadfast in ensuring his survival.
she was still keeping score.
and she was winning.
who's the stubborn asshole again?
she turned back to him, a bundle of fabric clutched in her hand. as she took his arm, her fingers brushed over the small mole beneath his forearm, trailing down to catch his wrist. the heat of her touch seared through his skin, steadying the tremor he’s so desperate to hide. “hold that there,” she urged, guiding his hand to press the start of the bandage firmly against the wound.
“ready?” she lined the cloth along his collarbone, eyebrow raising when she heard leon’s audible gulp.
“as i’ll ever be.” he gave her a weak nod.
she wasted no time, letting his arm slip as she began the careful cycle–wrapping the fabric along the side of his neck and collarbone, over his shoulder, then back again. he clenched his jaw, trying to quiet himself at every sharp sting that ran beneath the bandage, every careful pull of cloth pressing against bruised flesh.
“you–shit–always patch up strangers on the job?” he mumbled, a wry attempt at a joke through the pain that did very little to cover the grimace on his face.
“no.” a pause. “you’re the only person who's taken a bullet for me.” an honest reply taken by how her voice softened.
“you make it seem like you get shot at a lot.”
“you have no idea,” she muses.
it was then, in the dim, cold room, that he realized—truly realized—how deeply he was drawn to her. and not just due to the instinct to protect, or the desperate need of her survival, but that lingering desire to understand. to be near her in a way that went beyond danger and duty. he wanted to know her, all of her, past the blood and the rubble and the mystery she carried like a shield. and it was no longer a question of if–only when. when they made it out. when they chose, yet again, to defy death, to push through the horrors that clawed at them in every moment–
her hands drifted down, lingering near his thighs, and he watched her debate her next words like they’d shy him away–or reveal too much.
“...why’d you do that?” she settled with, chewing her lip when he tilted his head in confusion. “take that bullet for me, i mean.”
“you don’t even know me.” her voice sounded so, so small.
“why wouldn’t i? you could’ve been killed.”
he saw the cogs turn in her head, gazing at the (cute) puzzled expression on her face.
she dismissed his want for an answer, lifting her hands and picking back where she left off. “you shouldn’t be here, leon.”
“again, not happening,” he shot back, fighting down a smirk at the way her shoulders stiffened and bristled, “besides, what if i have to take another bullet for you?”
“another?” his words broke through her, and her voice rang, silky and musical, a laugh hiding somewhere in the edges.
he felt like he was on fire.
–because despite it all, he wouldn’t be able to forget her. not with the healing scar he’d be seeing in the weeks to come, echoing every moment of her hands against his skin and the small smiles he wished he could see more of.
“and what about you? how’d you end up here, a cop in raccoon city?”
“always been my calling, i guess. dreamed of it since i was a kid.”
“is it everything you ever hoped?”
it was his turn to be dismissive, just a bit. “ask me again later. when we’re out of here.”
she hummed. “oh, aren’t you hopeful.”
“of course,” he shrugged like it was the most obvious response in the world. “you do owe me a ‘talk,’ after all. can’t miss out on that.”
and she again, rewarded him with one of her small, gentle smiles.
and maybe he should’ve felt guilty, knowing he was caught up in the small, foolish thrill during what he had already considered the worst night of his life. yet he couldn’t help it—she was one of the few things pushing him, however slightly, out of this nightmare.
“i mean it when i say i’d do it again,” he looked at her with steadily, and the softness in her reciprocated gaze should’ve been what killed him. he didn’t need a reply to know she understood, even if, as always, she’d deny with a flare and scrunch of her nose.
–
“almost done” she reassured him, accidentally tugging at the bandage a bit too hard. a sharp wave of pain shot through his body and he jerked upright, letting out a pained moan as he gripped her forearms to halt her movement.
“hey–easy, rookie,” ada helped him lower back down, his back flat against the concrete wall as every nerve in his shoulder screamed in discomfort. his head hung forward, eyes squeezed shut behind his sweaty bangs as he took the time to catch his breath.
for a moment, he felt her still entirely. it didn’t even matter when her hand, tainted with all things red at that point, gently caressed his face, wiping a bead of sweat away from his feverish skin. she held her hand there against his cheek, like she’d done it before, like it was natural. a soft sound drew from his lips, and he found himself pressing closer into the heat of her palm.
and as always with ada–he’d learned to accept by now, stubbornly–things ended faster than they’d come, feeling her retract her hand, all her warmth and softness vanishing within an instant.
sooner or later, he heard her voice again, “–that should do it,” and after a bit of careful shuffling, his body was shifted against the wall a final time, more comfortably. her fingers buttoned his shirt, then clicked back on his vest, bringing him back to his original state. close enough to it, anyway. she leaned back a little to get a good look, a proud glint in her eyes despite his–for sure–disheveled appearance.
when he caught her gaze again, as he already had many times that night, he couldn’t seem to look away. he felt his energy dimming by the second, body forced to relax after fighting faint spells for what he felt was an hour.
as the world behind them started to fade, a faint smile tugged at his lips, and he uttered the last words his mind could convey coherently:
"y’know, you have really pretty eyes."
he eked out the compliment before his eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to the engulfing exhaustion.
–
ada stared in incredulity, letting out a sigh before standing up and away from leon’s unconscious body.
delirious, she couldn’t help the small smile forming at his words. what kind of cruel joke had the universe made against her to allow such a stubborn, aggravating, charming boy to make her job slightly less painful?
or maybe the cruelty itself was the fact things would only get worse from here, the longer he stayed by her side.
at that, she cursed to herself, eyes trailing around the pale room.
snap out of it, she shook her head, finally focusing on the true mission at hand. who knew what her employer would do without a report, he wasn’t the type to waste time.
but her eyes could help but trail back, seeing leon shudder within his dreaming. if he could still dream after a night like this.
taking off her coat, she draped it over his body, hoping it’d bring him some kind of solace, keep him warm, whatever.
or maybe to leave a reminder, because she knew they might not see each other again after all this.
a thank you, she concluded.
ada stood up, unhooking her walkie from her holster before speaking into it, teeth bared and resolve fully recovered before walking away from the unconscious rookie cop.
she steeled her voice, pushing past whatever previous hopes she may have harbored. there was no time for that.
“i’m right outside the facility, in pursuit of annette.”