LEON KENNEDY HEADCANONS ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐⁐⁐⁐⁐⁐⁐୨୧⁐⁐⁐⁐⁐⁐⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱
My personal extrapolation of Leon's backstory in full, based on the canon of the games, from his birth to present day.
Warnings: death, depression, PTSD, and suicidal ideation.
/!\ This is about Remake!Leon, not OG!Leon. They're vastly different characters imo.
︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶
Leon lost his family when he was around 6 years old so he still has hazy memories of his life before it happened. Only brief, nebulous snippets but sometimes, he'll dream of those fragmented recollections like they're from a distant past lifetime.
His parents were first-generation Italian immigrants which is why, when Leon became orphaned, he was placed into foster care as he had no other next of kin in the US.
Leon's father was Sicilian. He came to the US when he was young to make a better life for himself. Like many Italian immigrants, he first came to New York City hoping to strike gold. But unfortunately, life in America wasn't what it had been made out to be and Leon's father realized the American Dream was nothing short of a mirage. He became disillusioned and got in with the wrong crowd, started working with the mob. He committed crimes to make a living which worked out pretty well for him.
A few years later, Leon's father met Leon's mother while on a trip back home in Sicily. Leon's mother was from central Italy, and several years younger than his father. The two got swept in a whirlwind romance and subsquently, flew back to the US together where they married in the late 1960s. Leon's mom didn't want her husband to be a mobster so they moved out of New York, and headed north, settling in Boston to start fresh. This is when his father changed their surname to Kennedy, as he was a supporter of late president John F. Kennedy and liked the name.
In true Italian fashion, Leon's parents wanted a big family, especially his mom. Accordingly, she gave birth to three children, two elder daughters, and a youngest son.
Leon's mom was a gorgeous woman, a true picture of the Mediterranean beauty archetype with long, luscious, chocolate brown hair that she passed down to all her children. Leon got his good looks from her, except his eyes which were his father's.
While his dad spent most of his time at work, Leon's mother was a stay-at-home mom who took the utmost care of her children. She loved her kids and coddled them immensely.
Leon was a chubby toddler thanks to his mom's delicious home cooking. As the baby of the family, he was the apple of his mother's eye. She took him everywhere with her when he wasn't in school. Which explains why, out of all his family members, Leon remembers his mom best. Not in detail, he forgot the features of her face somewhere along his twenties but she remains a blurry figure tucked in a corner of his mind.
She'd always call him cute Italian petnames like cucciolo or cocco di mamma, and one of the memories Leon kept of her for the longest time was her voice.
Leon was a happy child before tragedy struck. He grew up surrounded by love which is why he has a good heart. Not only did he have a very close bond with his mother, but he also got babied by his two sisters, and the way they cared for him stuck with him.
Despite everything his father did to lead an honest life and provide for his family, he never managed to truly get rid of his old mob ties and one day, his past eventually caught up with him.
Leon doesn't remember much from that day. It was too traumatic for a young child to process, and he suppressed a lot of it for a very long time. Decades later, he only recalls the fear, the utter terror that clot his blood solid while he hid in the corner of a dark closet after his mom had told him to say quiet in there, and the dull ringing from the gunshots that echoed in his ears for what felt like hours.
That's when the nightmares started. They were reccurent, happened almost every night for the first year. He'd wake up shaking, cries ripping out of his body as if the massacre had just happened, again, and again. The nightmares were so extreme, he'd sometimes wake up with wounds and scratches all over his body.
Something else he remembers from that cursed day is the police officer who found him, rescued him. A real life hero with a badge and a uniform. That officer visited Leon several times after he was placed in the foster care system, bringing him some of his personal possessions as well as keepsakes from his family once the investigation on their murder concluded.
Most notably, he gave Leon a few photographs, only two or three. Of him and his family.
Leon never looks at them. The last time he did, he was in middle school. Since then, the photos have been collecting dust in a small tin case where he keeps the very few items related to his early life he still owns, including his father's old art deco lighter.
Leon changed foster homes about three or four times in total. He didn't have bad foster parents, per se. He was never neglected or abused, but he never got the proper love, attention, and support a child needs. As a result, he became emotionally withdrawn and was mostly a quiet and reserved kid up until his late teens.
In school, Leon was neither popular or unpopular. He got good grades and stayed out of trouble. He was just an introverted boy with a bit of a dork reputation thanks to his corny one-liners which were sparse and only tentative back then.
When he hit puberty, he got acne for a few years and was insecure about it.
As a teenager, Leon only truly relied on a small group of friends which was comprised of his bestfriend and two other close buddies with whom he hung out all the time, in and outside of school. They'd often hit up the arcade or loiter around the local mall together. He could be his real goofball self around them but otherwise, he stayed pretty timid.
Despite that, he never hesitated to help an elderly lady cross the street, or to reach for something on the high shelf at the grocery store to help out someone. Leon has always thrived on the sentiment of being useful to the people around him.
He started taking up any odd job he could find when he turned fifteen, saving money so that he could pay for his driver's license and later on, for a car.
When it comes to pastimes, the only sport Leon has ever had any interest in is baseball, though he's never really played it. His first foster father gave him some old baseball trading cards and that got Leon into collecting them. He still enjoys watching a game from time to time. Naturally, as a Bostonian, he’s a Red Sox fan.
His real hobby, however, is cinema. Leon is a movie buff, a film bro, a true cinephile. At first, he started going to the movies because it was a way for him to escape reality for a few hours. It helped soothed his melancholy on the days he didn't want to return to his foster home.
The more movies he watched, the more his love for the art form grew. And the fact that it was cheap meant he could go multiple times a week and easily cultivate his passion for it. It was one of the only things in his life he could really call his.
He was–and still is–a big Tarantino fan, had a Pulp Fiction poster in his room which he took with him when he entered the police academy. At that time, action and thriller were his favorite genres.
Music wise, he grew up listening to classic rock like Bruce Springsteen, Billy Joel, Bob Dylan and the Eagles. Then, like many people his age, he was greatly influenced by rising alternative artists such as Nirvana and Radiohead. His favorite album as a teenager was Grace by Jeff Buckley.
He got his first girlfriend in his junior year. She was a classmate he had had a crush on since middle school. They started dating after Leon mustered up the courage to awkwardly ask her to the homecoming dance, and she quite unexpectedly agreed.
Being in a relationship improved Leon's self-confidence in a way he didn't know possible. He took great pride in being someone's boyfriend, someone's choice, and he wanted to be the best he could be to prove that he was worthy of the title.
He bought his Jeep Wrangler around that time as well, which gave him a sense of freedom, and helped him to really emancipate. Those last two years of high school was when he started coming out of his shell and asserting himself.
After graduating, he immediately joined the police academy, never losing sight of what always felt like his calling.
Leon loved being at the academy. He applied himself and excelled in all his courses. He was surrounded by people who shared his strong sense of justice, made friends with them. He was finally out of the foster care system, the frequency of his nightmares was waning and, for the first time in a long time, he truly felt like he belonged.
He started lightening his hair then, at eighteen years old, to that ashy brown color which might not seem like much to most people, but to him, it was like a clear manifestation of independence. He also started building his physique and putting on muscles, effectively growing out of the scrawny body he had during his adolescence, out of childhood itself.
Nevertheless, he still had that naivety to him, that undying optimism that always wanted to see the best in people. He often got teased for it, but he believed everyone was worth saving. Always.
Things were good for Leon then. He was liked, even admired as an exemplary cadet. He aced his exams and graduated at the top of his class. His self-assurance had never been that high. He really felt like his life was taking a turn for the better.
Unfortunately, his girlfriend broke up with him after he told her that he had asked to be assigned to middle of nowhere Midwestern America. She didn’t want to be stuck in a long distance relationship while she was in college and decided to end things with him.
It was a hard blow for Leon. He had been with his girlfriend for over four years at that point and inwardly, had begun projecting the two of them into the future. But Leon didn’t go on a bender and drink himself unconscious for half a day like his OG counterpart. He just dealt with his chagrin the only way he knew how, by dismissing it.
He was onto greater things after all. His assignment request had been accepted so he stayed focused on his impending posting, eager to start making a difference in the world.
—RE2R...
After what happened in Raccoon City, Leon had trouble reconciling his feelings for Ada with the reality of her betrayal and her presumed death. The only way his brain was able to cope was, again, by disconnecting even further from his emotions, and his avoidant issues worsened from that point on.
Not that he had any time to really process what he had just lived through anyway, as he was arrested and coerced by the government to join a special task force and fight against bioterrorism.
As grueling and taxing as training was, Leon found odd comfort in the rigid structure of military life. The repetitiveness of it became familiar, reassuring; diametrically opposed to the chaotic events that plagued his mind and haunted his sleep. The daily tasks gave him something tangible to focus his thoughts and energy on, and kept him from falling into total despondency.
Once he was out of the training camp, Leon moved to Washington D.C. where he began working as a USSTRATCOM special operative.
Outside of work, he became somewhat of a recluse, spending most of his time cooped up in his apartment. The secrecy of his new occupation, not to mention how he had seemingly dropped off the face of the earth for the past two years, had forced him to cut contact with all his friends, leaving him completely isolated. So, when he wasn't across the world fighting genetically-modified abominations, all he wanted to do was enjoy what little peace he could get, away from everything else. At least, that's what he told himself. In reality, he was battling severe depression.
Of course, the nightmares had gotten worse, way worse. Some nights, Leon wouldn't even go to sleep. He'd just lie awake in bed because he knew what awaited him there, in his dreams, and he didn't have the fortitude to face it.
What helped him in the long run was maintaining a routine. It made him feel grounded, as he had discovered during his time training both as a police officer and as an agent. So he upheld his daily rituals like shaving–every day, without fail– and going for a run on an empty stomach first thing in the morning.
Leon dedicated the rest of his free time to improving his level of fitness. As long as he could focus on something pragmatic like his physical performances or his combat skills, he felt like he could keep a grasp on his sanity. Staying physically active also helped relieve some of the chronic pain he suffered after being shot in the shoulder.
He grew bulkier, stronger, but never strong enough to make carrying that weight inside his chest any easier. He'd often agonize over all the lives that were lost in 1998, wonder why he had survived when so many didn't, sometimes he'd wish he hadn't.
He still found solace in watching movies, only he preferred doing it from the comfort of his own couch rather than going out to the movie theater. His genre of choice changed to neo-noir, his favorites being Taxi Driver, The French Connection, Heat, and The Departed.
He started bleaching his hair dirty blonde in an attempt to reignite that long-lost spark of carefreeness he felt the first time he lifted his hair color after high school, to no avail. He had grown too emotionnally numb. At least, he liked the look.
Despite earning a good living, Leon has never been much of a spender. He puts all of his money in savings. But one day, he bought himself a beautiful mountain lodge tucked in the forest upstate, to serve as his retirement plan of sorts. It was a small shelter of peace and quiet where he hoped to end his days, even though he doubted he'd ever make it that far.
—RE4R...
Seeing Ada alive stirred up the conflicting feelings Leon still had for her but he had already given up on the possibility long ago. Things were better that way, less messy.
Upon arriving back in the US, Leon was featured on the news. A picture of him standing stoically next to the President, Ashley and some other government officials was plastered on the front page of every newspaper as well as every news broadcast in the country, introducing him to the world as the savior of the President's daughter, and causing him to gain recognition for his accomplishment among his peers.
But Leon didn't care much for glory or for status. That day, he returned home like he did after any other mission, greeted by the same phantoms he had been living with for years. For him, nothing had changed.
He still wouldn't go to sleep some nights. He'd just sit in his living room, alone and hollow, wondering if he had turned into a ghost himself.
Leon can deal with the horrors, the monsters, the trauma, the grief, even all the blood on his hands. He can endure it, but what suffocates him is the crushing guilt he feels for all the lives he couldn't save. That, he can never forgive himself for.
And, on some of his worst nights, that guilt makes him stare at the gun sitting idle on his coffee table a little too hard, a little too long.
But he's still the boy who'd rush over if he saw someone fall and ask if they're okay. Still the teenager who'd offer to help if he saw someone struggling to carry something heavy. Still the man who wants to make up for his shortcomings, his failures. So he tries to, day after day. He keeps going because that's all he can do.
At times, making progress is as easy as noticing coffee makes his anxiety worse and switching to decaf. At others, it seems insurmountable, daunting in ways that make any bio organic weapon he'd ever stared in the eye laughable in comparison.
It's slow and tedious. It takes years, but he gets a little bit better every day.
Leon meets his wife in the most mundane way, by happenstance. They click in an instant, getting along like lifelong friends. But Leon lets her slip away. He’s become too secluded, too aloof. The idea of keeping in touch with her doesn’t even cross his mind, let alone the idea of pursuing her romantically.
But fate has other plans because sometimes, even lightning strikes the same place twice. It happens again. They cross paths. And if Leon hadn’t become so numb to the language of his own body, he would’ve noticed his heart thumping a little harder at her presence.
They start seeing each other regularly, not romantically, but not quite platonically either. Something latent and tacit suspended between the two of them.
She's like the summer breeze; delicate, wrapped in sunlight, and gone too soon every time. Leon longs for her in ways he doesn’t catch on to. Like the way romance films from the 1930s and 1940s suddenly become very appealing to him, or the way his gaze lingers on the pretty bouquets any time he walks by a florist.
But he has too little sense of his own self-worth. He thinks it’s not meant for him, companionship, happiness, love. He's tainted, with things worse than mere blood and gun oil. He's broken, jaded, messed up, and she's so... sweet.
It’s happened before he realizes it, falling for her that is. One morning, something peculiar happens. Leon wakes up from a dream. He’s never had one before, only nightmares, horrible reminders that disturb his rest relentlessly. But that day, he had a dream, soft and quiet. It was her, just her. And he can’t deny his feelings anymore.
So he asks her, and that’s all it takes. Their relationship unfurls with ease that is hard to ignore. One day, she’s leaving a toothbrush at his apartment. Now, he’s handing her the spare key. He used to overthink about coming off as too needy. Now, he lets her drag him to couples dance classes every week with a grin on his face.
Leon is a gentleman through and through. He'd sooner eat dirt than let his lady lift so much as her little finger. Whether it be opening doors, pulling out chairs, carrying bags, offering up his jacket, footing the bill, he does it all like second nature. It’s his primary way of showing care.
Being of service, that he can do. He’s a bit rusty when it comes to sweet nothings and tender touches though. In the near decade that’s gone by since his last relationship, he’s forgotten how to use his hands for anything other than combat. It feels foreign to him now, being held in anything other than a chokehold.
Slowly, with time, Leon rediscovers parts of him that he thought long gone. She makes it easy. He feels safe around her, enough to confide in her on those nights when he still feels like he's being swallowed alive with despair. She's his comfort, his anchor, his everything.
Leon was raised Catholic by his parents, but obviously, he was too young to cultivate any kind of faith. He has a very complicated relationship with religion but would simply say he's agnostic if asked. But he still wants to get married in a church, maybe because he knows it would've made his mother happy.
It takes a while for Leon to take that next step in his relationship. She doesn’t mind. She’s patient, understanding. And when he does, it's steady, resolute, each of the four words resounding with purpose.
Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy.
They buy a house, a little further away from the bustle of the city, and refurbish it together. Leon can't seem to get the words "my wife" out of his mouth. It's new, wearing a ring, he's never worn jewelry before. He likes it, the weight of it on his finger, how it ends up becoming a part of him.
He sleeps better at night. The nightmares still occur but they're less prevalent, less intense. And althought few and far between, he has dreams now, good ones, peaceful ones.
In the beginning, Leon is vehemently opposed to the idea of his wife ever touching a firearm. Protecting her was his job, his duty. But as time goes by and with each mission he goes on, he grows increasingly concerned about her safety. So one day, he takes her to a range and teaches her how to shoot a gun. Just in case. Leaves a small pistol in her bedside drawer. Just in case.
When his wife gets pregnant, the first emotion Leon feels is fear. The fear of falling short. He doesn't know the road map, he barely remembers his own father. He's scared that he won't be enough, that he'll screw it up. He's seen so much evil in this world, what if he can't protect his child from it? It terrifies him.
He spends his days reading up on parenthood, learning about how to keep a baby out of harm's way. Sometimes, he paces around the newly furnished nursery, making sure that there are no sharp corners, that the cradle is sturdy and secure, that all the safety locks are functional.
Those nine months zip by him like a freight train, never giving Leon a chance to feel like he's truly prepared. He watches the bump grow larger with each passing month, anxiety brewing inside of his chest with proportional intensity.
And just like that, he's holding his firstborn in his arms. So small. So precious. And everything clicks into place.
If Leon was already constantly alert prior fatherhood, he can only be described as hyper-vigilant now. He keeps the bassinet on his side of the bedroom and wakes up with such speed at the slighest noise that his wife starts to wonder if he ever really goes to sleep.
Whenever they go out on family outings, Leon looks just as–if not more–geared up than he would going out on a tactical mission. Bottles, snacks, pacifiers, wet wipes, emergency diapers and changing pads, extra clothes, ointment, toys, hand sanitizer, sunscreen, a first aid kit, it’s all neatly packed in the various pockets of the big shoulder bag he carries with him like it's a badge of honor.
Leon loves the baby carrier, to the point where having a stroller almost becomes redundant. He just loves feeling the weight of his baby's head over his heart, the tiny, pudgy fingers clumsily clawing at his shirt. He wishes it could last forever.
It ages him, being a dad. But in a good way. He’s calmer somehow, not as restless as he used to be. His gaze seems to wander off less often, he's a little more present in each moment. He seems truly at peace sometimes.
He's so involved, in every aspect. Doctor's appointments, first words, first steps; and later, every birthday, every first day of school. He's there because he wants to be, wants to see it all. He's like that with all his children. Dedicated to a fault, because he knows how each moment with them is a blessing.
His kids aren't like him, they're cheerful and carefree. They make him so proud. They bounce at his feet when he comes home. When they're outside, their eyes shine with wonder at everything they see as they eagerly tug him in all directions. They're so full of life and see the good in the world. They're so honest, innocent and kindhearted. His kids are so much like him.
The first time his eldest questions him about his job, Leon’s tempted to stop, drop and roll because what else are you supposed to do in a situation where you feel like you’re caught in something so much bigger than you.
“Mommy always says you're out saving the world...”
It sounds almost accusatory, like he's been found out by his four year old. Leon sits there, befuddled and tongue-tied. You wouldn’t believe he is one of the most efficient and levelheaded agents in the US. He doesn’t know what to say. There is no feasible way to explain what his job entails to a preschooler. But the small child looks back with a shrewd glint in the eye before Leon can come up with a proper response.
“I know what that means... You’re a superhero!”
Leon doesn’t cry, he never does, it’s part of his sequelae. But in that moment, his chest tightens so hard he fears it might collapse on itself. It only gets worse when his child promises to keep the secret safe, smothered in Leon's tight grip.
Leon never thought he’d be a father. But here he is. They’re his little miracles.
He loves to watch them. He sits on the porch, watching his children play outside until they inevitably drag him to join them. He leans against the doorframe and studies his wife getting ready through the mirror. It doesn’t matter if he’s seen it multiple times and already memorized every step of her routine, he's in awe every time.
Some nights, Leon doesn't go to sleep. He just sits in his living room while his precious family is sound asleep upstairs and he just listens. To the quiet. Soakes it in, in an act of gratitude.
His kids keeps growing and so does he. He gets his first grays sooner than he would've liked, but it's worth it when he hears his wife calling him a silver fox.
He develops dad habits, like taking a bite out of a snack before handing it over to his kids, says it's to make sure it's not poison. He picks up woodworking, falls asleep on the couch with his arms crossed. Of course, he has a knack for dad jokes, given his proclivity for one-liners, as well as a natural gift for dad noises.
They go on family vacations to that cabin up in the mountains and Leon thinks he would happily spend the rest of his life like that, hopes he'll live long enough to see the day when he can.
He still doubts that he truly deserves it–all of it–but if he wouldn't wage war to keep it, even if he doesn't.
His kids keep growing and so does he. When he buys his Porsche, his wife jokes that he’s having a midlife crisis. He pauses... is he?
When the first signs of infection appear on his hand, he does his best to hide it, the way he always does. He still can't bear the thought of people worrying about him, especially his loved ones. His wife lets him get away with it. The first time she points out the discoloration on his neck, she gives him an out. "Did you burn yourself?" Leon hums without looking at her. "Yeah, it's nothing.”
—RE9...
He's only been away for a few days but stepping through the front door makes him feel like he's been gone for a lifetime. He saunters in the living room and his kids look back over the couch. "Hey, dad!" They chirp with wide smiles. "You sure you were gone on a work trip? You look better than when you left." They tease as they get up to embrace him in tight hugs.
His wife is in the laundry room, folding a batch of clean clothes. Leon finds her without having to ask. His arms wrap around her from behind, his head dips, landing on her shoulder. He inhales deeply, the whole room smells like fabric softener.
"Your burns are all gone," is all she says when she turns to look at him, a quiet admission of relief dressed with a smile. "Yeah." He replies, his tone mirroring hers. He’ll tell her all about it later.
No one makes it a big deal, when he leaves, when he comes back. It's a sign of trust, of unwavering faith. It acts like a talisman so when he steps inside his home, nothing follows him inside. Leon is eternally grateful for it. His sanctuary.
He's older now but somehow, he feels lighter on his feet than he ever has in his life... Well, he does wear a back brace on occasions. It took a lot of convincing from the missus but it does help alleviate some of the strain on his spine. His kids like to tease him about it.
He still gets bouts of pain in his left shoulder from time to time. Not that he would ever mention it himself, but one could notice from the way he rolls his shoulder after carrying the groceries inside or how he randomly squeezes it for a second or two. But it's manageable.
When he looks in the mirror, he complains about how he still can't grow a full beard at age 50.
His favorite kind of movies are the weird psychological dramas from independent directors. Foreign arthouse films that make his kids mockingly ask "What was that?" when the screen turns black. Leon just shrugs and smiles.
Because now, when Leon comes home from a mission, he's greeted by the tinkling laugh of his children, the warm smell of his wife's cooking and a kiss on the cheek. There are no more ghosts, only the comforting lull of domestic life.
︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶
꒰ EXTRAS ꒱ ⊹ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Leon’s an Aries sun, Virgo moon, Capricorn rising. ⊹ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ His favorite snack is a PB&J. ⊹ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Big animal lover. ⊹ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ We know this, but Leon is a front sleeper. ⊹ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ He has over a dozen of moles on his chest alone. ⊹ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ He still says "clicker" instead of remote.
︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶
If you've read all of that... damn, that's crazy– but thank you so much!!! I'm not a writer, so I apologize if my prose is a bit clumsy.
Feel free to share your thoughts and opinions as well as your own interpretation of the character! My inbox is always open and I love talking about this fictional geriatric dude. ദ്ദി´ ꒳ `)
