Chapter Text
Leon
Leon looked contemptuously at the mountain of writhing flesh that was Victor Gideon. His Requiem rang out as he blew away the creature's last feeble attempts to defend itself. Sparks flew from the ceiling as the ground shook beneath him. The whole building was coming down. Inwardly, he chuckled to himself. Classic. These super-laboratories had a tendency to self-destruct, as he had discovered many times throughout his long career. He raised the gun towards the monstrous maw of the Nemesis.
"This time, you ain't getting back up."
BANG
"Grace!" He called out. She had fallen with him, but he had lost track of her during the fight. Hopefully she had managed to get herself out of harm's way.
He caught sight of her at last, lying on her side. Unconscious, but breathing. He rushed to her side. "Grace, hang on."
Her injuries weren't too severe. Gideon's attack hadn't hit any major organs or arteries.
"Fuck. Grace ... Grace."
He gently ran his fingers over her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered. Her voice was weak.
"Leon ..."
More and more debris was raining down from the ceiling. The ground became ever more unstable.
"We need to get you outta here. C'mon, let's get you up." Slipping his arms underneath her, he moved to stand. She cried out. Shit. She was more hurt than he had originally thought.
He surveyed their surroundings. The basement of PANDORA was collapsing in on itself. The concrete dome left little in the way of handholds or footholds. Massive steel doors blocked each exit. He swore under his breath. Beside him, Grace was strangely calm. Quietly, she spoke the words he was thinking in his own mind.
"There's no way out, is there?"
Leon turned slowly towards her. The antiviral she had given had worked wonders. The chronic pain that had been plaguing him for years was finally gone. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt as good as he did now, even after the brutal slugfest against Gideon. For all the evil Spencer had released into the world, he had also given them hope. The name PANDORA felt a little too on the nose. Of course, none of that would matter at all if the ceiling came down on top of them, destroying everything.
He looked into her eyes. Beautiful eyes. He saw them staring deep into his, and knew that she knew as well. I could easily make it out on my own. It almost seemed like she was giving him permission. The antiviral had given him a new lease on life. All he had to do was ...
Abandon her. The woman who had saved his life, whom he had hurt so deeply. Bile rose up in his throat at the thought.
"Well, I'm not gonna leave your side. I'm gonna sit right here with you."
She looked at him again. Emotions flashed across her face. Guilt. Remorse. But also relief. Slowly, the lights burnt out one by one. Total darkness swallowed the room.
Grace's voice was so quiet, almost a whisper. "I guess this is it then."
Grace
The silence was deafening. She could hear her own breathing, her heart thudding. Instinctively, she reached out into the darkness. She touched something warm. Leon. He felt so sturdy, so real. And he was there with her. Because of her. She shuddered, choking back a sob.
Leon took her hand in his. A small gesture, but she was thankful for it nonetheless. His hand was large, powerful, yet surprisingly soft. She broke down. The guilt she had been carrying since her escape from the care center flooded out.
"I'm s-so sorry, Leon. I-I ... it's all my fault. I should n-never have listened to Zeno."
She could feel his piercing gaze even in the dark. His look of reproach, anger, or even hatred.
"I-I hurt Emily, I hurt y-y-you, it's because of me you're even —"
"Stop, Grace." His voice was deep, soothing. "Stop it. It's not your fault."
She took another shaky breath. "B-but it is ..."
He sighed. "You saved me, Grace. You saved my life, and who knows how many others?" He paused. "Emily's death wasn't your fault."
The somber little girl in her glass cage. Grace was sure she had never seen anything sadder in her entire life. Would it have been better if I had left her there? That question would haunt her for the rest of her days.
Ever since her mother had died, Grace had been alone in the world. Nobody cared about her, and she was perfectly content with that. Shutting everyone out was preferable to losing them. She could never go through that again.
But she had also spent so long alone that she had forgotten how good it felt to have someone that truly cared. It hurt, but it hurt so good. She could still feel the cold steel of Leon's gun pressed against her head.
"You still need me, right?"
She suddenly closed the distance between them, burying her head into his shirt. There, she let go. Of the fear and of the pain. Tears soaked Leon's shirt, but if he had a complaint he kept it to himself. He gently wrapped his arms around her. Together they sat until she had no more tears left.
"It'll be alright, Grace. We're gonna be okay." Anger surged through her, unbidden. How could he possibly say that? After Emily...
"Y-you said that last time too."
He didn't respond. That was unfair of me. She knew he regretted the way things had ended down there. Yet part of her, the irrational part, still blamed him.
"I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean it like that."
Leon
Her words shook him to his core. She was right. He was a liar, a fraud, a coward. A failure.
It had been nearly a decade since the first Raccoon City Syndrome victims began dying. Hundreds of people that had survived the worst BOW-incident in history dying from a mysterious, terminal disease. As far as the records had shown, not a single person had survived. Once the symptoms started to show, it was already over.
The day he was handed his death sentence, Leon had given in to it. Resigned himself to his fate. This was not an enemy he could fight directly, not an attack he could dodge. There were no jokes to be cracked. But he had not given up entirely. If not for himself, then for his friends. Sherry, the little girl he had let down. Jill, his loyal sister-in-arms in the war against bioterror. Claire, the woman he should have married. Ada, his biggest what-if. He fought for them.
And the pressure had gotten to him. Every corpse was another nail in the coffin, a dagger in his suit of armor. He spent his days investigating, to no avail. His nights were spent boozing until he got kicked out of bars, picking fights, and drinking himself into oblivion. RCS couldn't destroy him if he destroyed himself first. Deep down, he was ashamed of what he had become.
Things only got worse when Claire got hurt. Her condition rapidly worsened, accelerating the RCS. Desperation had led him to Wrenwood, and fate had done the rest.
Grace
Leon was quiet for a long time. Grace kicked herself internally. The one person in the world who gave a damn, and this is how she treated him. She bit her lip.
"L-Leon?"
His response was muted. "Yeah."
She carefully weighed each word. "I didn't mean what I said earlier. I don't blame you for what happened."
He exhaled, and didn't respond. She was about to say something else when he cut her off.
"No, Grace. You — you were right. I'm sorry. I —" His voice cracked. "I'm so sorry for what I did. I just ... didn't see any other way."
Grace could see that she had hurt him deeply. This was a new side to him she had not seen before. He was dying of a terminal illness just a few minutes earlier, yet he was dropping corny jokes like it was just another Tuesday. She remembered what he had told her earlier, down in the dump.
"This place ... Raccoon City was where it all began for me. When it all happened, I-I couldn't —" He looked into her eyes. "I couldn't make a difference."
With steely resolve in his voice, he told her. "So I am here, now."
Her own voice caught in her throat. He made all the difference to her. She was no good with words though, so they sat in a somber silence.
Spotlights clicked on, cutting through the darkness. Grace had to cover her eyes. She heard the sound of rappels and boots crunching on the debris of the lab. Slowly, she raised her head. Leon had crouched in front of her protectively, hand on his Requiem. A man in tactical gear approached them. Unlike his friends, he was not carrying a gun.
"Leon S. Kennedy?" The man asked in a gruff tone, his voice echoing off the walls.
"Depends who's asking." Leon shot back.
The soldier seemed to be on comms with someone else. "Alpha, do you read me sir? Yeah, they're safe. I got 'em. Yes, sir."
He took a knee next to them. "Mr. Kennedy. I have a message from Captain Redfield."