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“ You lock your desk?”
Leon looked up, the key for his desk drawers still turned in the lock. Claire had a bemused smirk on her face, almost as if she found the whole scene before her amusing.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Leon, no offense, but you work in a police station. It's probably one of the last places to have issues with workplace theft.”
“I wouldn't be so sure,” he replied, slipping the key into his pants pocket. “Just last week someone stole Marvin’s sandwich out of the fridge.”
Claire rolled her eyes as the two made their way out of the West office and towards the lobby.
“Does everyone lock their desks or something?”
“No,” Leon said, pushing the front doors to the station open, the heat from the summer immediately assaulting the duo. “I'm the only one.”
“And have they had issues with people stealing stuff?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Then why lock the desk?”
Leon looked over at Claire, a single eyebrow raised.
“You're really hung up on this desk thing, aren't ya?”
“I'm inquisitive by nature.”
Leon chuckled as they made their way down the block towards the small diner much of the precinct frequented. Claire was in town for a few days and with the S.T.A.R.S team away on a mission until tomorrow, that left Leon as her lunch buddy for the day.
“Just a precaution is all. Hope for the best, expect the worst.”
“God, you sound like Chris sometimes. You two need to stop hanging out so much.”
Leon held open the diner door for Claire, relieved to finally be in another air conditioned building. They beelined for their usual table, passing other uniformed officers and patrons enjoying their lunches.
“Sometimes Chris is right.”
“I'm so gonna tell him you said that.”
Leon tore half the wrapper from the disposable straw in front of him and blew into the plastic, shooting the other half of the paper right at Claire's head.
“Real mature,” she rolled her eyes. “But I'm not letting you off the hook, Kennedy. Why are you so paranoid that your coworkers are secretly kleptomaniacs?”
“I'm not paranoid,” Leon said defensively.
Claire opened her mouth to reply but was stopped by the waitress coming over to take their orders. They ordered their usual; a cobb salad and ice tea for Claire and a bacon cheeseburger and Coke for Leon. Once the waitress left Claire jumped back into her interrogation with somehow ever more fiercity.
“Could've fooled me. There has to be a reason, there's no way that this is the one thing you aren't Joe Cool about.”
“Can we just drop it?” Leon requested. “Please?”
“You dodging the matter is only fueling my curiosity, you know.”
“I just don't like people messing with my stuff is all,” Leon said, slightly exasperated. “That's all, no secret bombshell to unearth, Redfield.”
"Right..."
"You're not going to drop this, are you?"
"Nope."
Leon sighed dramatically as he leaned back in his chair. "Fine. Since you're so damn persistent. Growing up... I moved around a lot, stayed in a lot of group homes. Longest I stayed in one place was about ten months. I didn't have a lot of belongings and the ones I did I had to guard with my life so the other kids didn't take them. Used to sleep with my bag in the bed with me until I somehow got my hands on a bag with a lock on it. Guess I never really dropped the habit of being overprotective of my stuff."
Claire watched as Leon took a drink from his Coke, concern etched into her features.
"You grew up in foster care?"
"Yeah," he hummed, scratching the back of his neck. "I never mentioned it?"
"No, I think I would've remembered that," she said jokingly, but it lacked her usual humor.
"I'm... sorry if I made it awkward."
Claire tilted her head in confusion. "What? No, no, of course not! I just... I didn't know that about you is all."
"My parents passed away when I was pretty young. Grew up in the system until I aged out."
"You never... no one adopted you?"
Leon leaned his head against his hand. "No. I came close a few times, but no takers."
"God," Claire said sadly. She couldn't imagine that happening to her. Without Chris taking her in after their parents died, it very well could have.
"Sorry to dampen the mood, but you wanted the truth..."
"I didn't mean... I shouldn't have pried."
Leon shrugged, not seeming too concerned with sharing his past with Claire.
"It's fine. You were probably gonna figure that one out eventually, Detective Redfield."
Claire stuck her tongue out at Leon as their food was delivered and they soon were too busy eating to dwell on the topic any longer.
Jill didn't get to the downstairs offices much. Unlike Chris, who seemed to use every excuse in the book to hang around the West Office in particular, Jill spent most of her time at her desk or out in the field. But there was a file she needed that had already been checked out and the clerk was too overworked to be concerned about going through the proper channels so Jill took it upon herself to retrieve it in hopes the officer was nearly done with it.
No one but Leon looked up when she entered, a smile appearing on his face as he noticed her.
“Hi, Jill,” he said. He'd been typing up a report of some sort but that was pushed aside for Jill's arrival it seemed.
“Hey, how's it going?”
“Not too bad. What brings you down here?”
“Need a file that got checked out. Know where Branagh is?”
Leon leaned back in his chair, his hands folded casually over his chest.
“Not even here to see me. I'm hurt, Valentine. The lieutenant is over-”
Leon’s words died in his throat and Jill furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. The smile fell from his face and his eyes widened slightly, but Jill couldn't tell what the problem was.
“Leon?” She asked. “What's wrong?”
He didn't reply, only continued to stare at another officer at his desk. Jill turned to look at the man, who had seemingly just lit a cigarette, the smoke surrounding him as he worked on his own reports.
“Leon, what's wrong?” Jill asked again.
“Smoke,” Leon said softly, his voice sounding much more innocent than Jill was used to. “Cigarette smoke.”
“Yeah,” Jill said, clearly confused. “That guy’s smoking over there. Is that a problem?”
“I…” Leon’s words faltered as he suddenly stood up, rushing out the door. Jill wasn't sure she'd ever seen the man move so fast in his life and she quickly followed after him.
“Leon?”
She had expected him to go far but he was sitting on the floor near a fake plant, his legs pressed tightly against his chest as he hugged them. He had his face buried in his knees and judging by his breathing he was trying his best not to hyperventilate. Jill sighed and sat crosslegged next to him, wanting to offer him physical comfort but also not wanting to overwhelm him.
“Leon, what's going on?”
“It's stupid.”
His voice was muffled but Jill was still able to make out his words.
“It's not if it's upsetting you this much.”
Leon sniffled and tensed his shoulders up slightly.
“I promise whatever it is, I won't think differently of you. You can tell me.”
It took a moment, but Leon finally let go of his legs, using one hand to roll up the sleeve of the white shirt he always wore under his uniform. Jill had always thought it odd that he was the only officer who wore a long sleeve instead of a short sleeve shirt, even in summer, but now it seemed she was going to learn why.
On the inner skin of Leon's forearm were small, circular burns, faded with age but still a dull pink in color. There were so many of them that Jill soon lost count and she was sure the other arm boasted even more under Leon's sleeve.
Burns like that really only came from one thing and Jill knew immediately what it was.
“One of… one of my foster dads,” Leon started, his voice hesitant as if he wasn't sure he should be telling Jill. “He didn't like me. I dunno why… I tried to be good. He used to… he smoked Marlboro Red 100s. He'd put ‘em out on me, tell me… tell me that's all I was good for. An ashtray.”
Jill could feel her heart shatter into a million pieces in her chest. She was vaguely aware of the fact that Leon’s parents passed away when he was young, but he never brought up his childhood or what had happened after his parents’ deaths. In all actuality, this was perhaps the very first time he'd even opened up about what it was like for him growing up.
“Leon, I'm so sorry,” Jill said, her hand hesitantly hovering over his shoulder. Leon seemed to get at what she was offering and wordlessly leaned his body against hers, his head resting on her shoulder as she squeezed his arm.
“It was a long time ago. I thought I was over it, you know? Put it past me. But the smell… it just brought back all those memories all at once.”
“It happens.”
Leon chuckled humorlessly. “Everybody probably thinks I'm a freak for reacting like that.”
“If they do, I'll beat the shit out of them. You know I will.”
Leon smiled. It was pained and small but it was a smile nonetheless.
“Thanks Jill. I appreciate it.”
“Of course, rookie. You need a minute?”
Leon nodded. “Yeah I'm gonna go wash my face in the bathroom. I'm good, though, go get that file.”
Jill helped him to his feet and brushed a stray strand of hair out of his eyes, which made him blush slightly. He gave her one last little smile before turning towards the men’s room. Jill waited until he rounded the corner before going back in, beelining directly for the officer's desk who had lit the cigarette. It was between his lips when she plucked it out, ashing it out right on top of his finished reports.
“Hey, what the hell!” He demanded.
“If you or anyone else ever smokes in here again the next place I'll put it out will be between your goddamn eyes. Got it?”
The officer nodded, a look of fear on his face as Jill passed him to walk towards Marvin’s desk. He was watching her with a hint of astonishment as she approached, a small smirk on his face as he held out the file for her.
“Jesus, Valentine, who pissed in your coffee this morning?”
“No one,” Jill stated, taking the file. “Just make sure no one smokes in here, okay? It… it bothers Leon.”
Marvin’s face became a bit more sympathetic at Jill's words and he nodded understandingly.
“Yeah, I'll keep them in check. Tell ‘em to take it out in the hall or something if I can. Can’t promise a miracle, these guys smoke like chimneys, but I'll try.”
“Thanks, Lieutenant. I appreciate it."
The man nodded in response and Jill turned to leave, the file tucked under her arm and her mind full of worry for Leon.
“Why exactly are you here again?”
Barry couldn't help but smirk at how exasperated Leon sounded as they made their way down the juvenile detention center’s cold, cement hallways towards the warden’s office.
“You're just mad it's me and not Chris.”
Leon blushed bright red which only served to make Barry smile even wider.
“I just don't see how this is a matter for S.T.A.R.S. is all.”
“Chief thinks it is. Besides, with your partner out today you could use the backup.”
“I hardly think questioning the warden on some of the kids here warrants back up.”
“What if one of those kiddie gangs gets to ya? I bet they make shanks here too.”
Leon gave Barry a dirty look. If he was trying to look intimidating, though, he was failing. To Barry it just looked like when one of his daughters pouted.
“Relax, Kennedy, it's just protocol. Consider it sorta like a practice audition for S.T.A.R.S. or whatever.”
“Yeah, right,” Leon scoffed. “There's no way I'm gonna be in S.T.A.R.S.”
“I dunno, Chris is pretty persistent.”
Leon raised an eyebrow at that as the guard escorting them opened the warden's office door for them. Barry could tell what he had said was sticking with Leon and hopefully that meant it would put him in a bit of a better mood.
In all honesty, he thought the kid had some potential. He'd make a fine member of S.T.A.R.S one day, Barry was sure of it. He hadn't known Leon for long and he didn't know him as well as his coworkers, but he could tell the kid had heart, which was something that couldn't be trained into an officer. Besides, he trusted Chris' judgement, especially when it came to matters such as this.
“Warden,” Barry greeted, extending his arm for a handshake. “Officer Barry Burton, S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team. This is Officer Kennedy, RPD.”
The warden wasn't looking at Barry as he shook the man's hand. Instead his gaze was on Leon, who suddenly looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.
“Kennedy… that name's familiar,” the warden said.
“No relation to the ones from Massachusetts,” Leon said dryly, no hint of his usual charisma present.
“You look familiar too.”
“I have one of those faces. Anyway, we have some questions about one of the gangs in Raccoon City and if any of the kids here are-”
“I know!” The warden interrupted, recognition lighting up his eyes. “Leon Kennedy! My, it's been what, seven, eight years? Never thought I'd see the day you became a cop!”
Leon’s face was flushed red once more and Barry couldn't help but feel completely lost.
“You were a troublemaker back in the day, as I recall. Had to put you in solitary on more than a few occasions.”
“Wait,” Barry looked between Leon and the warden, the pieces beginning to click in his brain. “Leon, you were in juvie?”
“It was only for a few months,” Leon said defensively, his arms crossed against his chest. “And I didn't even do anything, before you even ask.”
“So they just… put you in juvie?”
Leon refused to meet Barry's eyes. “Where else was I supposed to go? I got kicked out of the last place I was in.”
“Glad to see you cleaned up,” the warden said proudly, as if he had had anything to do with it. “Now you're an upstanding member of society.”
“Why'd you get kicked out of the last place?” Barry asked, suddenly curious about Leon's mysterious past.
“Can we please focus on the matter at hand?” Leon asked, a bit exasperated. “Warden, the teen gangs?”
Barry could hardly pay attention as Leon questioned the warden and wrote notes down on his small pad of paper, his body still terribly tense as they retrieved their sidearms and exited the facility.
“So,” Barry finally said once they'd gotten back in Leon's squad car. “Wanna share with the class?”
“Not particularly.”
“C'mon,” Barry practically begged. “You can't blame a guy for being curious!”
“It's none of your business, Burton.”
“Would you at least tell me why you got kicked out of the group home?”
“Oh my God, none of you can ever just leave well enough alone!” Leon exclaimed. He had yet to even turn over the ignition, his arms resting on the steering wheel as he stared out the windshield.
“Look, I'll drop it if you really want me to,” Barry sighed. “But I'm not gonna judge you, man. None of us are. We care about you, kid, and nothing you say or do is gonna change that anytime soon. I can't imagine what growing up was like for you, I get that it probably made you more guarded, but whatever you have to say isn't something I haven't heard a thousand times before. Trust me.”
“Why are you all so good at knowing the right thing to say?”
Barry chuckled. “It comes with the job.”
“Yeah, I guess it does.”
Leon took a deep breath, his face still turned away from Barry. He could still see his expression though. He looked far too exhausted for a man his age.
“When I was fifteen I got kicked out of the group home I was staying at because the lady who ran it caught me stealing food from the kitchen. But it wasn't even for me, it was for the other kids. She used to give us half portions at meals, told us it was too expensive to feed us all. She didn't even care that the younger kids were malnourished and getting sick. So I stole some crackers and she found out and called me a dirty thief and told my social worker she wanted me out of her house.”
Barry could suddenly picture a teenaged Leon, his body thinner and his cheeks more shrunken in, sneaking through a kitchen at the dead of night to steal food that wasn't even for himself. A teenager with the weight of the world on his shoulders whose only priority was looking out for those weaker than himself. He couldn't imagine being in such a situation, couldn't even bear to think about his daughters in a similar one.
“The social worker… I dunno, I think she knew. I think she could tell, but I dunno if anything ever came of it. I hope that woman lost custody of those kids, but I still don't know. But I remember sitting in her car with all my stuff in a black trash bag on my lap and she had this sad look on her face as we pulled into the juvie’s parking lot. And I guess, to her credit, she did seem real sorry about the situation, but she told me I did technically steal and that there were no placements available within the county, especially for an older teen, and that one would most likely open up in a few months."
Leon picked at his nail beds absentmindedly, his blue eyes becoming a bit teary as he continued his story.
“I didn't even do anything wrong. Not really… I mean, it wasn’t like I robbed a store or something. I was just… I guess it doesn't matter. Cause I was there for three months. And I was the easiest target, you know, cause I was so small and skinny and I couldn't seem to find my place. Everything was so different and terrifying and I didn't know what to do. All the kids in my block were bigger than me, they'd steal my shit, push me around, you know. But the guards would never believe me when I tried to tell them what happened. They always blamed me, always said I was looking for trouble. But I wasn't, I just wanted to be left alone.”
Barry inhaled sharply as Leon's voice began to break slightly the longer he talked.
“I just… I just wanted a family. I didn't mean to cause trouble. I just… those kids were so hungry.”
Leon sniffled, obviously trying his best to hold back a sob. Barry wanted to engulf the kid in a hug and never let go.
“Leon… God, I'm so sorry.”
“It's in the past. That's… that's what I always think when it comes to growing up. It's over and done and I survived. I… I just didn't think that the warden would be the same one. I’d been banking on no one recognizing me.”
Barry didn't want to point out that even if the warden had been a new one, even if no one at the juvie recognized Leon, he still would have had to enter a place that had held so many painful memories for him. That he could've tried to get out of the assignment or pushed it onto someone else but he didn't.
“You're very brave.”
Leon snorted. “I'm really not.”
“You went into a place where terrible things happened to you and you stood your ground the entire time. If that's not brave, I don't know what is. Give yourself more credit, Leon.”
Leon seemed to lose some of the tension in his shoulders at Barry's words. He finally looked at Barry, his eyes slightly wet and red. He looked so much younger in that moment and it only served to break Barry's heart even more.
“Thanks for listening. I don't… I don't like to talk about it much but… maybe it helps to get it out there. I dunno.”
“I'll always be here to listen whenever you need me,” Barry ruffled his blond hair, chuckling at the way Leon immediately tried to fix it.
“I know. Thanks, man.”
“Now let's get the hell out of this place, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Leon chuckled, finally turning the key that had been sitting idly in the ignition. “Let's get outta here.”
Leon watched, bemused, as Rebecca rolled her chair over towards where he was seated in the library, her short legs almost not reaching the floor at all.
“Can I help you with something?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m having a crisis,” she said, quite serious.
“Oh yeah?” Leon played along, pushing the book he’d been reading to the side.
“Yes, it’s a big problem and I need all the help I can get.”
“Is this about a case, or-”
“It’s about my birthday.”
Leon chuckled lightly, making sure to keep his voice down despite them being the only two currently in the precinct library.
“Your birthday?”
“Yes, my birthday. It’s in two weeks and I have no idea what I should do for it.”
“I’m not the best person to ask, I never do anything for my birthday.”
Rebecca frowned and leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table as she studied Leon’s face as if she was trying to tell if he was joking or not.
“Wait, for real? You don’t do anything for your birthday? Like… ever?”
“Nope,” Leon shook his head. “I’ve never done anything for my birthday. Just another day, as far as I’m concerned.”
“You never had a birthday party?”
“Um… no?”
Rebecca seemed shocked by this revelation and Leon didn’t look like he was quite understanding her reaction.
“You’ve never just had friends over? Not even a birthday dinner or cake?”
“I’ve… Well, I’ve never had a birthday cake.”
“What? Leon, you have to be pulling my leg, everyone has had a birthday cake!”
Leon was starting to look a bit uncomfortable with the conversation, his cheeks red with embarrassment.
“I mean… when I turned twelve I put a match on a Twinkie, so that kinda counts.”
“Leon, that does not count and you know it.”
“Well, that’s the best I got, okay?”
Rebecca was devastated. She couldn’t imagine never celebrating her birthday, never blowing out candles and making a wish while surrounded by her loved ones.
“Have you ever even gotten a gift?”
Rebecca was worried she already knew the answer before Leon even opened his mouth.
“Well, one year, when I was seven I think, there was a church that was having a clothing drive and I got a pair of sneakers that were in pretty decent shape, so that was kinda like a birthday gift.”
“Oh my God, Leon, you’re breaking my heart.”
He looked at her, confused. “Why? What’s wrong with sneakers?”
“The sneakers aren’t the problem, Leon. The problem is that you’ve never had a proper birthday!”
“Birthdays weren’t really important growing up. Some years I kinda forgot myself, to be honest.”
“What, were your parents Jehovah Witnesses or something?”
Leon looked down at his lap. “Um… No, I… I was raised in foster care since I was eight.”
“Oh, Leon… I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
Leon shrugged. “It’s fine, not your fault.”
Rebecca paused for a moment, a bit confused now. “Wait, but you said you got the shoes when you were seven, but you weren’t in foster care until you were eight?”
“Yeah,” Leon still wasn’t looking at her. If anything, he was trying even harder now to avoid eye contact. “My parents… They were pretty busy, they didn’t… it was hard for them to remember things like that.”
“Can… Can I ask a personal question?”
Leon smirked, though there was no humor in it. “As opposed to the other questions you’ve been asking, which weren’t possible at all?”
“Leon.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “Yeah, go ahead.”
“Did they lose custody of you?”
“No… they passed away.”
“Leon, I’m-”
“You don’t have to keep apologizing. Really, it’s okay. I’m really not bothered by it.”
That was one of the issues, at least to Rebecca. Leon had just told her something completely heartbreaking and he was acting as if he’d just told her what the weather was going to be like for the rest of the week.
“When’s your birthday?”
“Huh?” Leon finally looked at Rebecca, obviously caught off guard by the question.
“You heard me, when’s your birthday?”
“July thirty-first.”
“Well, prepare yourself, cause I’m gonna throw you the greatest birthday ever!”
Leon finally smiled and Rebecca couldn’t help but smile back. It was such a small thing, in the grand scheme of it all, but that didn’t matter to her.
“Thanks, Rebecca. Sounds great. And, for the record, maybe you could go to the aquarium for your birthday, if you’re still hunting for suggestions?”
“Hey, that’s not a bad idea! Only if you come, though.”
Leon laughed. “Yeah, I wouldn’t miss it.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Redfield?”
Chris couldn't help but smirk at how pissed Leon looked. He was desperately trying to look intimidating but was obviously failing miserably.
“Relax, would ya,” Chris replied. “Chief called in S.T.A.R.S. for this one. You're good to go.”
“I'm not going anywhere.”
Chris raised an eyebrow. “This isn't your case anymore.”
“Bullshit.”
“Okay, what's gotten into you, Leon? Someone steal your pack of gum again?”
Leon had an unreadable look in his eye, which was saying something considering Chris could usually read the guy like a book. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why Leon was so insistent on staying on a case involving a local gang.
“Chief gave it to us, Kennedy. We've been looking into this gang for a while, the residents are known members,” Chris said, this time more sternly.
“But their kid isn't, Chris.”
“Why does it matter to you so much? What makes this kid so special?”
Leon didn't back down like Chris had hoped he would. If anything, Chris’ questions seemed to fire him up even more.
“Because his parent’s crimes aren't his fault. He needs compassion right now, especially since your team is going to be storming the place, guns ablazing. You’re gonna scare the shit out of him.”
Chris knew deep down he should pull rank on Leon. He should tell him to go back to the station and finalize his side of the report. But Chris didn't do either of those things.
“Okay,” he relented. “But I run point, got it? You don’t leave my side.”
“Got it,” Leon agreed. “Thanks, Chris.”
“Don't mention it. Seriously, don't mention it, or Irons will have both our heads.”
Leon grinned before schooling his features once more.
“Okay, Alpha team,” Chris spoke into his walkie. “Prepare to enter.”
Leon could hear the various members over the radio copy Chris’ order as they all took position at the varied entrances to the house. Leon stood behind Chris at the front door, a nervous look on his face.
“Ready?” Chris asked.
Leon nodded.
With one, swift kick, Chris had the door open, the wood of the frame splintering away from the force. Leon followed quickly behind, his pistol drawn and at the ready.
The house was dark and eerily quiet as Chris shone his flashlight around the living room.
“Master bedroom clear,” Jill's voice sounded through Chris’ radio.
“Upstairs bathroom clear,” came Barry's voice next.
“Checking kitchen now,” Chris replied, walking carefully around the discarded toys that littered the ground.
Leon followed, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as Chris and he slowly rounded the corner of the hall to enter the kitchen and dining room area. Once they saw what awaited them, however; they froze in place.
On the floor were the bodies of the two gang members Chris and his team had come to arrest, a bullet in each of their heads. Right in the middle, sitting next to them, was their five year old son.
“Alpha team, we’ve found them. DOA.”
Leon wasn’t listening to Chris as he spoke to his team through the radio. Instead he put his gun away and raised his hands in a non-threatening way as he walked slowly towards the child. The boy was staring into space and didn’t even seem to notice the two men, not even once Leon kneeled next to him.
“Hi, my name’s Leon, what’s your name?”
The boy blinked and hugged his knees tighter to his chest, his fingers gripping the fabric of his pajama pants like a life line.
“Victor.”
“That’s a cool name,” Leon smiled softly. “Over there is my friend Chris. We’re police officers, we’re here to help.”
The boy finally looked up at Leon, his eyes wet with tears.
“They won’t wake up.”
Leon sighed softly. “I know, buddy. Why don’t you come with me, okay?”
“Why won’t they wake up?”
“I’m sorry,” Leon said, and it sounded like he really meant it. “They’re gone.”
The boy looked at Leon’s outstretched hand warily.
“There’s so much blood.”
Leon winced slightly. It was so small that Chris almost missed it.
“I know, Victor. Don’t look.”
Victor uncurled himself and seemingly fell into Leon’s arms, burying his face into his uniform shirt. Chris could hear the boy begin to sob as Leon quickly picked him up, one hand moving towards his head to keep it in place so that the boy didn’t look at the bodies of his parents any longer.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Leon said softly, walking backwards out of the kitchen. “You’re gonna be okay.”
Chris watched silently as Leon carried the boy out, his body frozen in place as he took in the scene. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but seeing Leon know exactly how to react in this particular situation wasn’t it.
“Redfield, medics are here, should we end them in?”
Chris broke free from his trance, the realization that he had two dead bodies to clean up suddenly dawning on him.
“Yeah,” Chris replied into his radio. “Send them in.”
“Hey Chris?”
Chris jumped slightly at his little sister’s voice, not expecting to see her standing behind him. She looked nervous and had what looked like a cassette tape in her hands.
“What’re you doing here?”
She scoffed, the anxiety leaving her face to be replaced with annoyance.
“Hello to you too.”
Chris offered a small consolation smile, turning his full attention towards her.
“Sorry, how lovely of you to drop by, what’s the occasion?”
“No need to be an ass,” Claire replied. “I… Okay, so you know how you gave me your log in so that I could look at case files and check things out from the record room?”
“Um, I remember you stealing my information and me telling you not to do that.”
“Yeah, basically the same thing. Anyway, I may have found something that I think you should listen to.”
“You just happened to find something. You weren’t, let’s say… looking for it?”
Claire glared at her brother and shoved him aside so that she could grab the Walkman on his desk. He sat back and let her, watching as she put the cassette tape in and clicked play.
The audio had a bit of static at the beginning, but soon the Redfields were able to hear a voice start to speak.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
There was more static and Chris looked over at Claire, confused.
“911, is anybody there?”
There was still no reply.
“Claire-”
“Just shut up and listen.”
Chris shut his mouth. He’d seen Claire like this before and could tell she was serious.
“Is anybody there?”
Finally, a new voice joined the recording.
“I’m… I’m here.”
It sounded like a young boy, one that couldn’t have been older than ten. His voice shook as he spoke and it was slightly muffled, as if he was holding the phone directly against his face.
“Hello, what’s your name?”
“They won’t wake up.”
The dispatcher inhaled sharply.
“Who won’t wake up?”
“Mommy and Daddy.”
Chris looked at Claire, confused. He couldn’t understand why she was making him listen to this tragic 911 call.
“What’s your name, honey?”
“L-Leon. Leon Kennedy.”
So there it was.
“Hi Leon, my name is Cheryl. Can you tell me where you are?”
“Home. In the kitchen. I just… wanted some water.”
“Where do you live?”
“There’s… There’s so much blood.”
Chris suddenly remembered the last time he had heard that phrase. He remembered the way Leon flinched when the kid said it too, how it had been such a small thing that Chris had chosen not to think about it in the moment.
“I know, honey, and I’m going to send you some help, but I gotta know where you live. Do you know your address?”
“Y-Yeah, kinda. I live on Spear street, in a yellow house. I… the number ends with six I think… It starts with a two…”
“You’re doing really good, Leon. Stay on the line, okay, I’m going to send some police officers, okay? Can you go into the living room for me?”
There was some shuffling as Leon presumably moved away from the kitchen, his breathing heavy on the other side.
“O-okay, I’m by the couch now.”
“Good, Leon. Help is on the way. I’m gonna stay with you, okay?”
“O-okay.”
“How old are you?”
“Eight.”
Chris closed his eyes, his brain forcing him to imagine Leon at the age of eight, huddled in the corner of his living room, his pajamas stained just as Victor’s had been.
“That’s a good age. You’re in, what, third grade?”
“Y-yeah.”
“What’s your favorite subject?”
“I like history.”
“Me too, that was always my favorite.”
The sound of faint sirens could be heard as the first responders arrived. Chris looked over at Claire, trying desperately to read her emotions. She was staring at the wall in front of her as the audio continued, the dispatcher staying on the line even after the police had arrived.
“My name’s Officer Cooper. What’s your name?”
“Leon.”
“Hi Leon. I’m here to help. You wanna take my hand?”
“They won’t wake up. Why won’t they wake up?”
Chris wished Claire had never found this damned tape. He wished he’d never had to hear this side of Leon’s past, especially without his knowledge. He felt as if he were violating his trust in some way, like he shouldn’t know something so personal without his express permission. On the other hand, it made everything he knew about Leon make so much more sense, why he had reacted that way to Victor.
He’d known what the kid was going through. From the very start he knew what awaited him inside that house. And he went in anyway.
“I’m sorry, son. They’re gone.”
Leon started to sob, his words muffled as he most likely buried his face in the police officer’s chest.
“Don’t look,” the officer muttered. “Don’t look, Leon.”
The tape clicked as it came to an end.