Together, We’ll Make It Out Alive | Chapter 1 | Leon Kennedy x Reader
Things in Raccoon City were not normal for quite sometime, months even. Reader (Y/N) gets thrown into the chaos on what was supposed to be a normal day of work...turned into what seemed like the end of the world. Co-starring Leon S. Kennedy, a long lost friend, situationship from the police academy. Friends and enemies are met/fought along the way as paths with Kennedy weave you in and out through a world that will never be the same.
CHAPTERS: II • III
It has been nearly 5 years since I’ve posted. I started this fanfiction back when I was in probably 5th or 6th grade, the good ol’ days of Quzilla... Whenever I truly got access to the internet. This story has been with me for a long, long time. I’ve taken a break from writing, lots of things have changed in my life...marriage, children, work but this has always been here with me. I’ve decided to give this story one more re-write. With a new perspective. I’m older now and think I finally give this story the beginning and ending that it deserves. THIS STORY IS A RE-WRITE OF THE OTHER THAT IS POSTED ON MY PAGE. THIS IS ME RE-CREATING MY PREVIOUS WORK. At some point, I will eventually erase the original posting and I am willing to take that loss. I can’t wait to go on this journey with you all.
... BEEPBEEP... BEEPBEEPBEEP...
Just like clockwork, the sound of your alarm blared at the same time nearly every day. 3:45 PM EST. It wasn’t gentle or soothing, it was loud and brash. The shrillness of the electronic beeping jolted you from your slumber or what little of it you had. Things were hectic to say the least the past several months in Raccoon City.
Every night sirens wailed through the streets, their red and blue lights beamed through your blinds. It was enough to wake even the soundest of sleepers. You groaned and buried your face deeper into your pillow. A tired hand flailed across the nightstand in search of the snooze button. Your saving grace every day that duty called. “...Not yet,” you muttered to the clock. You tapped snooze with familiarity and drifted back to your momentary slumber, but before you knew it...five minutes was up. And this time you didn’t miss. Eyes cracked open and through blurry vision, you could barely make out the glow of the clock. 3:45 PM. “Shit.” You laid there for a second longer, stared up to the ceiling deep in a tired thought. Was there a new crack? Or was that just more peeling lead paint? Regardless of the decline of the apartment building, someone had to pay the bills and that was left up to you. Tired, heavy legs swung over the side of the bed and shaky arms stretched for the air above. You stretched, spine popped and a tearful yawn escaped your lips. You somehow were blessed with working the night shift for the Raccoon City Police Department. Rookie’s luck, you guessed.
It’s been nearly 6 months now and this routine had became second nature now. You slept through the mornings, buried your head under the pillow as the sun was peeking its head out for another day. Then before you knew it, your alarm told you that your day was ready to start while everyone else whined down. It would bother some but for you, it wasn’t too bad. It was the fact that you spent the nights sat behind a desk, pushed paperwork and maybe the occasional pencil. This wasn’t what you expected when you enrolled into the academy or when you graduated either. You imagined routes, field work, action or something that gave purpose. Now your duties involved transferred calls and processed paperwork along with the privilege of watching other officers go out into the field. “It’s all apart of the job. The process,” they would say. “You’ll be in a cruiser before you know it,” they would reassure you.
The city itself felt different and even the air had an odd smell to it now. It just made you resent it more and more. You wanted out. Wanted to get away to somewhere warmer, maybe LA? A snort left your nostrils. First, you need to get out of the rookie probation era that you were stuck in.
The thought of paperwork jackets and files stacked a mile high on your desk stirred an audible groan from deep in your soul. Your feet shuffled toward the small kitchenette which was dimly lit from the afternoon sun. As you readied your pot of tea on the stove, turned the small television on to listen to the daily news. The brunette female anchor rambled on and on about a local school’s football team before changing to the breaking news. “Raccoon General Hospital’s reports of the rise in admissions has now doubled, according to the facility’s spokesman. The hospital continues to see patients exhibiting the ‘strange sickness’ that has seemed to be sweeping the area,” you focused your attention and turned up the volume, “this includes rotting skin and uncontrolled aggression. Some say it may have something to do with the allegation of the local waters being polluted. More on this story at 11.” The sound of water spilling over on the sizzling stove snapped your from your trance. You panicked and pulled the kettle from the hot burner then shut off the stove. The news story sat in your mind as you sipped your tea, what the hell was going on around here? There were constant reports of animal attacks, monsters in the surrounding woods and even cannibalistic attacks. It sounded like it was out of a horror movie your friends would’ve dragged you to in your teens. But all of this was going on right outside your window.
Time had escaped you as you spent the remainder of your free time watching television and cooking. By the time you realized it, the clock read 7:45 PM. Damn! Shower, change and coffee — in that order. You hoped the shower this morning would be a hot one, your landlord had been MIA the past few weeks. The neighbor across the hallway mentioned something about him being admitted into the hospital after a homeless man attacked him outside the lobby door. No landlord meant no plumber to access the hot water tank issue that plagued the entire complex. The pipes groaned loudly behind the walls as the water struggled to push its way through the 40 year old plumbing. Fingers danced under the faucet as you begged for hot water — and bingo! Prayers were answered as hot water tickled your fingertips.
Just as you were ready to step in, the phone rang. You ignored it. Probably spam or someone misdialed. — it stopped. The immediately started again, your eyes closed. “Seriously?” You could swear that it sounded louder this time, shriller and impatient. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” you complained as you stomped across the floor with wet feet. “Hello?”
”(L/N)! Where the hell are you?!” A voiced barked loudly in your ear, Lieutenant Branagh. Great. “I’m home,” you answered. “My shift starts at 9:45.” He was quick to respond, “That’s not soon enough. I need you here now.” His tone was off which made your posture straighten. “Reports have tripled all day,” he continued, words were heavy like he was out of breath. “Sounds like you need to call in an on call patrol—“ “We have.” He snapped. “Half of them aren’t picking up.” Your palms grew sweaty, that wasn’t normal but you were adamant on not coming in for overtime today. “L-Look,” you stuttered, “I don’t come in until—-“ he cut you off one last time, “I will see you here.” And then the line went dead. No and’s, if’s or but’s — it was an order. You stood in silence for a moment longer and listened to the dial tone, a heavy sigh escaped.
“Unbelievable.” As you turned to continue your shower, your foot bumped into one of the half unpacked boxes that was still sat near the doorway. It knocked over and spilled everything that was inside onto the floor. Papers, old notebooks and a few random photos. Several swear words were muttered under your breath as you couched to gather the mess. Then you noticed it. The photograph which had landed face-up. Two familiar faces stared back up at you and they had smiles that were unseen for quite sometime now. On the left, you, (Y/N), and on the right, well, that was Leon Kennedy.
A baby-blue eyed young man with a white smile and a perfect hair flip. He had been your partner in crime at the academy, not exactly official but in all the most important ways. He was the only one who never saw you like you were something fragile that needed to be put away on a shelf and wound up there by accident. Unlike the other guys, he never “went easy” on you. He saw you as someone on his playing field which only made you appreciate his companionship more than the others. The first thing he ever said to you was, “You shoot better than half the guys here.” And you liked him instantly. The more you stared at the Polaroid, the more your heart thumped faster. The sound filled your head but slowly dissipated as the sounds of that day faded to front of your mind.
It was ridiculous. The two of you wore paper party hats that sat crooked over your hair. The string dug into your jawlines and grins so wide they looked painful. Your arms looped around his shoulders, his left hand was around your waist — they looked natural as if it was were they belonged. In his other hand was a large beer mug that was too close to being spilt onto the floor. You could hear his laugh which muffled the banging of your heartbeat. On the back of the photo in your writing it read: Graduation Celebration! July ‘98. Then all the memories of that night flooded back to you—
.✦ ݁˖
The summer heat was hot and damp. But that didn’t stop the nightlife from bustling and the young people of the city from enjoying it. Music spilled from every open bar door and laughter bled through the walls. Leon’s car was parked in a lot that was behind the final bar of your celebration crawl. It was a pitiful vehicle. Covered in faded paint and rust but he insisted he was going to fix it someday. He was leaned up against the hood as he observed you come his way from the bar door. You stopped in front of him with crossed arms and pretended to notice the sky above rather than making eye contact. “You’re drunk,” you finally spoke, a quick dart of your gaze before a reconnection with the clouds. “Maybe,” he answered. A smile was in his voice which caused one to creep at the corner of your lips. A moment later, his fingers brushed your arm — soft at first and then with more reason when he noted you didn’t pull from him. Finally you turned to him, (E/C) and blue eyes met. His were half lidded but focused, you could feel him from within. Soon, the world faded from around you both and a faint, “Leon...” was all you could muster, tone soft but grounded. His knuckles met your cheek and glided softly against your red skin. You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or your blood had rushed to your cheeks from your pounding heart. He hesitated, you could notice his hand trembled as thoughts raced across his mind. That’s what you remembered the most. It wasn’t his kiss, it was the hesitation. Like he was afraid that was he was about to do would ruin whatever thiswas between the two of you.
His lips found yours. It wasn’t perfect and it definitely wasn’t practiced. Maybe it was the alcohol? Maybe it was stage fright? Hoots and hollers shouted from across the street and from those who passed by when he did it. But it was warm and real with maybe some slight uncertainty. But it was real. When he pulled away, there was a coolness to the air as reality rushed itself back in between. Leon’s eyes squinted a bit to see if your face read any signs of regret. But there was none. Your face showed a mixture of excitement and surprise. Several smaller kisses were exchanged after that. You could get lost in his warmth and you almost did. But things changed after that. No fights, nothing upfront and jarring. However, neither of you voiced the things were wanted to, were too scared to do and eventually, silence took over for those unspoken words.
.✦ ݁˖
The warmth of the memory lasted longer than you wished. It felt like a hug for a shiver that you had carried for far too long... You didn’t realize how much more time had passed until violent pounding shook the floor. “Hey! You’re using all the fucking hot water!” Your neighbor’s voice barked as another thud followed. “You’re not the only one who lives here!” And again, another thud. You blinked, thoughts empty for a moment. Shit. Shower, right. “Don’t worry, you’ll great your bath, princess!” You shouted back through the floorboards and scrambled to your feet. Clothes off. Scrub body. Dry off. Uniform on. Bun tight. And...badge on...straight. Shoot! Almost forgot the bagel.. and now, bagel in mouth and out the door. When you stepped outside, rain greeted you as you stepped from from the apartment lobby. “Of course,” you mumbled and shoved half the bagel back into your mouth as you jogged down the sidewalk to your car that was about a block away. Storm clouds rolled in as the sun was now tucked far behind the mountains that surrounded the city. Thunder rumbled as the raindrops went from a dribble to almost a downpour. “Come on, come on—“ keys fumbled between your fingers before the landed in a puddle at your feet and then the bagel followed. Your eyes closed briefly, “Is today over yet?”
You bent down to snatch them up — and something slammed into you. A woman. Drenched head to toe, her expensive looking business attire was disheveled as if she were in a fight. You staggered backward as she grabbed onto your uniform to keep herself upright. You caught her shoulders to steady her and that’s when you saw it. Mixed in with her soaked clothing was a dark spot on her right shoulder. A bloody, dark spot and it began to stain the blue fabric around it. “Ma’am—“ you spoke firmly. Her grip tightened on your sleeve with desperation as if she was about to claw through it.
“They’re everywhere,” she was clearly not in her right state of mind. “Who is?” You asked. She shook her head violently, a bloodied hand wiped the rain from her face and left a red trail. “They’re coming—“ her head turned toward the alley that she must’ve wandered from. You followed her gaze. The alley was quiet but dark, however, an eerie feeling crept from somewhere within. “L-Let me call an ambulance,” you stuttered as you began to turn toward the nearest pay phone. Her grip tightened, “No,” her voice cracked, “It’s too late.” Your gazes met and you could see that she had no light behind her eyes. They were bloodshot and pupils tight. Something was wrong with them and it unsettled you. And before you could react, she bolted. “Wait!” You called after her but she ran straight down the street and disappeared around the corner.
“...Who’s coming?” Fear and curiosity flooded your veins as your attention turned back to the alley. It remained quiet except for the rain that pelted off the concrete and surrounding cars. Then it hit you. Crazed civilian, all the crap on the news and the Arklay stories? These puzzling pieces began to connect to each other. As you backed away, your eyes caught the bloodied stains leftover from the woman’s palms which now adorned your uniform. Things were beginning to spiral and unbeknownst to you as well as the rest of the city. This was only the rising action.
Your car drive to the station was short but what remains from that encounter with the crazed woman made it feel so much longer. The radio played concerning news “reports of escalating violence across the city. Citizens are urged to remain indoors—“ just as one sentence ended, another began. “—hospitals at capacity” your finger quickly pressed the power button to shut it off. “Enough.” If it was as bad as what you just witnessed, what the city needed was a miracle.
The streets near the RPD were blocked. Cars seemed to be sitting right where their drivers left them, doors hanged open and some damaged in collisions. You pressed the brake abruptly, the maze of cars would make it impossible for your vehicle to continue. People rushed past you in bursts — soaked, scared and not paying you any attention. “Hey!” You called. “What’s going on?” But no answer, just the sounds of their footsteps on the puddle ridden pavement. As you got out of the car, a man shoved past you hard enough to almost knock you over. “Wait!” You yelled after him but he was gone before you knew it. The city seemed to turn into every man for himself, more than what it normally was. This wasn’t inconsideration, this was survival.
When you finally entered the station, chaos was off the charts. Phones rang endlessly, radios sputtering incomprehensibly, people shouting over one another. Officers and civilians limped past you, bloody and injured. Fear set in and you were frozen. Too much was happening at once. They warned you about this in the academy — freezing when too much is going on. A hand on your shoulder snapped you out, “There you are, (L/N)!” Branagh stood in front of you, rain dripped from his coat. He looked tired and defeated. A flicker of relief was in his yes when your sights met. “I need you to put your best foot forward,” he spoke with urgency as he nudged you toward your desk. “Paperwork’s stacked on your desk. File it and then you’re going out in the field.” Your breath stopped, “Me? Out where?”
”The whole damn city,” he clenched his teeth, “Shit has hit the fan, officially.” A group hustled past him and he was gone. You darted for your desk and then you saw it. A banner strung across the ceiling in a bright, cheery blue and yellow.
W E L C O M E L E O N
You swallowed hard. The environment around you closed in and the words burned brightly in your vision. Leon. There was only one Leon that mattered, the only one in law enforcement that you were aware of. He told you he would find you. He said it half-joking outside the bar that day. “If they split us up, I’ll just transfer. I’ll find you.” You believed it was just drunken nonsense for the most part and kind of sweet. You gnawed on the nail of your thumb and noticed Rita sitting by you, she was focused on whatever she had going on at her desk. “Hey,” you said as casually as you could, it was clearly forced. “Who’s this Leon guy?” She didn’t look up, “New rookie. Out of town. Last name starts with a ‘K’ or something. Ask Neil.” Your stomach started hurting. What are the astronomical chances there’s another “Leon K”? You turned to the desk near yours that was typically the catch all but it was now cleared off and spotless. You reached over the divider and grabbed the note taped to the surface.
“Leon S. Kennedy, we’re putting you on a very special case for your first assignment. Your mission is to... unlock your desk! The key to your success is in the initials of our first names”
Hands grew cold for a moment as they tightened on the paper. Damnit. It was him, there was no denying it. This wasn’t real. He hadn’t called, hadn’t written, no heads up...nothing. After everything? His promise? Everything came crashing at once. Did he think you wouldn’t care? Or maybe, he assumed you’d be happy to see him? You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, even as the station fell apart behind you, you couldn’t help but imagine seeing him. He’d walk in with a half-smile. The other officers would greet him with a slap on the back and maybe give him some crap for being the new guy. He’d laugh along with them, pretend he wasn’t nervous. Then he’d notice you, nose buried in your paperwork. He’d drop the fake smile, not completely but the mask would be gone. Leon would excuse himself from the others, hands rubbed together anxiously. “I didn’t expect to see you here, (Y/N)” You wouldn’t believe it at first, head tilted up in curiosity. “Funny. I was just thinking the same thing.” As cool as you would try to be, you’d be a puddle beneath it all. Why? Because you never stopped wondering what could’ve, would’ve and should’ve...after the night that ended in silence.
