Chapter 3: FRACTURE
Note: This has been proofread but will still make changes!
Themes: Angst, Drugs, Swearing, mentions of blood, 18+
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
"Every time you look away, it moves. Getting closer."
The house is quiet when Leon steps inside.
Not the comfortable kind. Not the kind that settles in after a long day. This kind sits differently. Thin, stretched, like something could slip through it if given the chance.
He closes the door behind him carefully, easing it shut without letting it click too loud. For a second, he just stands there. Listening. Nothing. No movement. No shifting. Just the low hum of the house and the faint creak of settling wood. Still... something about it doesn't sit right. Leon exhales quietly and moves. He doesn't turn on any lights. Doesn't need to. The layout is already mapped in his head, every hallway, every corner, every blind spot. His steps are slow, measured, the kind that don't echo unless he wants them to. Kitchen first.
Clear.
Counters clean. Trash where it should be. No signs of anything out of place. His eyes linger for half a second longer than necessary before moving on. Living room. Still. Curtains drawn. Nothing disturbed. The faint glow from the TV upstairs barely spills down the hallway, just enough to remind him where to go next. He checks the windows anyway. One by one. Locked. Secured.
His hand presses lightly against the frame of the last one, testing it out of habit. It doesn't budge. Good. But he doesn't relax. Upstairs. Each step is quieter than the last, his weight shifting carefully to avoid the spots he knows will creak. He pauses halfway, head tilting slightly. Listening again. Nothing.
He finishes the climb and moves down the hallway, stopping at the first door. He opens it just enough to look inside. One of the kids is asleep, sprawled out, blanket half off, breathing slow and even. Leon steps in just long enough to pull the blanket back into place, his movements gentle, precise. He lingers. Just a second. Then steps out, closing the door quietly behind him. The second room. Same routine. Same stillness. Same quiet reassurance. Both safe. That matters. More than anything else right now.
When he finally reaches the end of the hall, the bedroom door is already cracked open. A soft flicker of light spills out, shifting faintly against the floor. The TV. Still on. Leon pushes the door open just enough to step inside. The room is dim, lit only by the television. Shadows move slowly across the walls, stretching and pulling with whatever's playing silently on the screen.
You're asleep. Curled into your side of the bed, breathing steady, face half hidden in the pillow. The tension that had been sitting in you earlier is quieter now, softened by sleep but not all the way gone. He notices that. Of course he does. Leon shuts the door behind him without a sound and moves across the room, setting his things down with practiced care. He doesn't turn the TV off. Just lowers the volume until it's barely there, more light than sound.
For a moment, he just stands there. Watching. Making sure. Then he exhales and disappears into the bathroom. The shower doesn't last long. Just enough to wash off the cold from outside, the lingering edge of something he can't quite name. Water runs over his shoulders, down his back, steady and grounding.
Routine. Control. Something he can rely on.
By the time he steps out, the house is still quiet. Too quiet. So quiet that you can hear the crickets chirping outside.
He dries off, pulls on something comfortable, and steps back into the bedroom. Nothing's changed. You're still asleep. The TV still flickers. The room still feels... off.
Leon moves to the bed, sitting carefully on the edge. The mattress dips. And you stir. Your brow tightens slightly, your body shifting instinctively toward the movement before you even fully wake. Your hand moves across the sheets, searching. "...Leon?" Your voice is soft. Half asleep.
"I'm here," he answers just as quietly. That's enough. Your shoulders loosen almost immediately, your hand finding his arm and resting there like it belongs. "You're back..." you murmur.
"Yeah."
You don't open your eyes. Don't ask anything else. You just move closer, your head settling against his chest as if that alone is enough to confirm everything is okay. Leon's expression softens. His hand comes up, resting against your back, slow and steady. His thumb moves once, absent, grounding. He leans down, pressing a quiet kiss to your forehead. Then another.
You breathe out, deeper this time. Relaxed. Safe. For now.
Leon shifts fully onto the bed, pulling you in without thinking about it, letting your weight settle against him. The TV continues to flicker, casting moving shadows across the ceiling.
His eyes stay open. Watching. Listening. Before fully closing, leading to the darkness of the night. His arm stayed wrapped around you hugging your back, protecting you from the things that haunts your lives. Umbrella and their obsession with making bio-weapons to rule over human life. But at least, he can protect you and the twins from it, in their home.
For Now.
HOURS PASS
8:28 AM - ASHER POV
The room felt too warm. I can't stand it. The fan is spinning around but giving warm air. Turning over to try to get cool down, didn't work. Taking off the cover, didn't work either.
"Bro..." Asher sighs uncomfortably
The vibration of his iPad is going off. It repeatedly lights up with messages flooding up the screen. He sits up, slowly turning to where the sound of vibration is occurring.
"Why are they spamming this early " he rumbles. He flops over to the right side of his side to grab his tablet. He taps the screen. It immediately comes flashes coming to life, blinding him. He squints his eye right after. "This stupid auto brightness", he complains. The group chat is going off with his friends messaging back and forth.
"That is AI."
"Don't be dumb, bro"
"Idk bro, that looks too familiar to Maple Grove. Did you see how the background look? That's how the houses look there." Another person responded back in the group chat
"How would you know what the houses look like there in Maple, dipshit? You're just fear mongering"
"It's called having eyes and paying attention to where you're going. You clearly don't pay attention while your outside for you to reply back to me like that, stupid"
His friends continues to spam the group chat and argue. It over 15 messages that he missed from there. Sliding back up, he finds the video that his friend sent. He clicks on it, playing the video. No volume. Asher turns up his volume.
*The video plays...*
It's a man. He's in the middle of the street. The sunrise is slowly approaching. But there's still darkness beneath the sunrise. Houses lines the streets one by one. It looks like a normal suburban community. Expect until it wasn't. Across from where he sits in his car smoking, is a house. The first home near the exit of the community.
Maple Woods Plantation. The signs reads. Welcoming everyone. Once was a big lot with dark history, where one group prosper while another suffers turned into a community where all can be live freely.
The owls and crickets are howling, chirping into the night while the families and their pets sleep away, in 'la la land'. The land lights stand in the streets giving light into the darkness for everyone to see. But what came next was something that one wished to never see.
A person came from the road. Walking unusual. Weird. Like it is slowly burning and his nerves are slowing dying. It catches the man eyes immediately. Slowly it makes its way to the closest house near them.
"What the fuck?" You can hear the man murmur in the video.
Suddenly, the dog inside starts barking rapidly. The entity walks towards the backyard where the dogs were. It pushes its self against the fence, crawling at the fence. The fence is the only thing between it... and the house. "I gotta stop smoking seriously, I'm seeing shit now" he says.
The video zooms in even closer to the activity. The man is groaning. His face looks like it has blood near his mouth. His eyes are bloodshot red.
"Dude.... Every time, I look away it gets closer" The man goes silent.
The man breaks the fence getting into the sleeping family backyard. You can hear the dog crying now. The men in the video slowly pulls up to the fence walking the weird man slowly walks to the dogs crawling at the family backyard door. Finally the light inside the house, turns on and the owner of the house, opens the door. "Atta boy, why are you crying, Reese?"
The man reaches for the dog, the owner grabs the dogs quickly putting him inside the house. "Back off dude." He pushes the man hard. The dead men reaches for the man now. The owner grabs the man collar and pushes him onto the ground. "What the fuck is wrong with you!" He yells, stepping on the dead man legs, crushing it. It cracks.
"Stacy, call the police!" He yells, walking fast into the house, locking the door.
The dead man leg broken, he now lay on the ground, attempting to crawl. The man comes back out with a gun. He shoots the man in the arms. He still moves.
BAM. The first shot doesn't bring him down. The second shot doesn't even falter his movement. The father starts to panic.
His arms attempts to reach for the man, groaning, its mouth opens and his mouth is covered in blood. The father headbutts the dead zombie near his cheek. His skin rips easily. "The hell are you?" He yells. "HOW ARE YOU STILL MOVING?" He is starting to panic. The father raises the gun one last time and shoots the man in the head. The zombie finally stops moving.
The father stills for a moment, trying to catch his breath. His wife comes out. "Kevin, what's going on?" She panics. "HONEY, STAY BACK!" He turns around. She has the phone to her ear, "I'M ON THE PHONE WITH 911! IS HE STILL MOVING?" She yells
Her husband kicks the zombie, one last time, making sure that it doesn't move. It doesn't. He sprints over to his wife, grabbing her taking her inside immediately.
"Babe, hello?" someone speaks over the speakers in the car. The man turns back to the stereo where the sound comes from quickly putting his phone on the tripod attached to the headboard. "Heather, you won't believe what the fuck, I just seen dude." He speeds off. The phone still records. He is leaving the neighborhood when he sees three cop cars heading the same way that he just came from. "What happ-"
The video cuts off.
Asher just stares at the screen, "...what the hell was that?" He looks over at the clock, 8:40 AM. He gets out of bed, putting on his slippers before leaving the room to go to the bathroom. He brushes his teeth and washes his face. Opening up the bathroom door, he jumps back. His sister Autumn, stands at the door.
'What are you doing?" She crosses her arms. "Just woke up." He replies. "Are you done out the bathroom?" She asks. He walks out letting her go inside, closing the door. Asher walks back to his room. The curtains are closed. He opens them half way before sliding up the window to let fresh air into the room.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, he turns on his tv. Livestream.... a conspiracy theory streamer was talking about conspiracies of the undead and what truly happened in Raccoon city. Asher knows that his father was a cop in Raccoon City and dealt with casualties there but he didn't know to the extinct of how much Leon dealt with.
Leon and Y/N made a promise to keep such things away from the twins because they wanted for the kids to have a normal life so much as possible.
*Livestream keeps talking*
Urban legends. Old footage. Rumors dressed up as entertainment.
Asher doesn't notice the way the tone shifts from "story" to "speculation," then to something almost confident. Almost convincing. "...Raccoon City wasn't just an outbreak," the streamer says. "It was a containment failure. And most of what people think they know? Sanitized." Asher frowns slightly, thumb hovering over the screen. Then, he exits off the stream.
Third Person POV
The glow of the TV dims, the room settling back into softer light. Normal again. Quiet again. Just another morning pretending to be harmless. Cool air drifts through the room, brushing against the curtains. The soft sound of Y/N's breathing fills the space, slow and steady. She's laying on her side, facing Leon. He's asleep but not deeply. Not fully. He never is.
It only takes one shift. One sound. And he's awake. It's been that way since '98. Not by choice. Just... survival.
*Y'N Dreaming*
"Mom?" The word echoes too loudly. You're inside a gas station. Run down. Empty. The lights flicker overhead, buzzing faintly. The shelves are half stocked, half abandoned. The clerk's desk.... Empty. With blood on the counter.
Outside, your Porsche 911 sits near the pump. Autumn is asleep in the backseat. Still. Unaware. Asher exits out the car. Near the gas tank, scanning the area, he start to look for you. "Mom?" He clutches his jacket tighter.
Your chest tightens. "ASHER GET BACK INSIDE. NOW." Your voice cuts sharp through the space as you move fast, grabbing what you can. Water. Snacks. Anything. You start to pace towards him. Then suddenly. Too fast. The clerk lunges.
Not right. Not human. The basket drops, plastic cracking against tile as you catch the attack, shoving her back hard. Her body slams into the counter, CRACK. Her head snaps against it, leaving a smear of red. No hesitation. Your hand is already moving. Gun up. Trigger....The shot echoes too loud in the small space. Her body drops.
Still. You breathe once, Then you look up. And that's when you see it-
*You Wake Up*
You jolt upright. "ASH-" Leon is already moving. "Y/N—" His hand finds you instantly, pulling you in before the panic can fully take shape. You're not shaking, but you're tense. Every muscle locked tight, breath caught too high in your chest.
"It's a dream," he says low and controlled. "Hey...look at me." His hand slides to your back, slow and grounding, the other steadying your arm. "Asher's okay. They're both okay."
You don't answer right away. Your breathing is uneven, stuck. Then Leon leans in, pressing his forehead gently against yours. Warm. Steady. "Stay with me," he murmurs. "Breathe. In." He inhales slowly.
You follow. "...and out." It comes out shaky, but a little steadier.
"Right here," he whispers. "You're right here." You finally focus on him, but something is still there behind your eyes.
"...I saw it again," you say quietly.
"The man on the road?" Leon asks.
You shake your head slightly. "Not exactly." Your fingers tighten in his shirt. "It wasn't him as... a person. It just looked like him." A pause. "A store clerk."
Leon doesn't interrupt. "They looked the same," you continue. "The same wrongness. Dead." Your voice lowers. "She looked the same like the man. Just at a different location. A gas station."
Silence settles. Leon's jaw tightens slightly, but his voice stays even. "You saw something out there. It stuck with you." You look at him. "Did you see the car?."
"There wasn't," he says immediately. That should be enough. It isn't. "...Then where did it go?" you whisper.
Leon doesn't answer right away. He's close next to you, but the silence shifts less comfort now, more thoughtful. "I don't know," he says finally. No filler. No redirect. Just that. His hand stays steady on your back, grounding you.
A beat passes. Your grip on him tightens slightly. "So I wasn't imagining it," you say quietly. Leon's gaze doesn't move from you.
"I didn't say that," he answers carefully. "I said I didn't find anything." That distinction lands harder than anything else. Because it leaves space. Too much space. Your voice lowers. "...That doesn't help."
"I know," he says.
The room stays quiet for a moment, TV still flickering softly in the background, light moving across the ceiling like something restless. Leon finally exhales, thumb brushing once along your arm again. That's the closest he gets to comfort.
The silence doesn't settle. It thins. Leon's phone vibrates. He doesn't move right away. Then, "...Sherry," he mutters, already answering.
"Leon." Her voice is steady. Too steady. Like it took effort., "...Something is wrong" she says. No buildup. No context.
Leon's hand stills against your arm. "What happened?" he asks. A pause. Not because she doesn't know. Because the answer doesn't sit right. "...Survivors from Raccoon City, are being killed. It's not like a normal death either. Too many, close to each other, more than before," she says.
Leon frowns slightly. "...You think it has something to do with Umbrella and their associates?" Another pause.
"...That's the problem," she replies. "I don't know. It's not much information about it." You shift beside him, watching now. Leon leans forward, elbow on his knee.
"...What do you have? " he says. "They were sick" she answers quietly. "All had symptoms of black marks spreading, numb feeling and coughing up blood." That lands. Wrong.
"...what's the survival rate?" he presses. "I can't answer that" she says. "It starts off slow but eventually once it hits the last stage, I would say that, it's zero." A beat. Silence stretches. Leon's jaw tightens slightly.
"...All survivors had had this?" he asks. "Yes." No hesitation there. That part is certain. "...How certain are you?" he asks. Another pause. Longer this time. "How many stages is it?"
"Three."
A breath. Silence. "What's stage one?" He presses
"...It's like something is... wearing them down from the inside," she says. "Piece by piece." You feel your chest tighten slightly. Leon's grip on the phone shifts. "...Timeline," he says.
"It changes," she replies. "That's not an answer." "
I know," she says, sharper now. Then quieter "...but it's the only one I have." A beat. "Some go fast," she adds. "Some don't." "...And the ones that don't?" Silence.
"...They don't stay that way," she says. That's worse. Leon exhales slowly. "...When did this start?" he asks. Another pause. "...Officially?" she says.
"...Sherry." "...A while ago," she admits. "We just didn't see it." Leon's expression tightens. "...Why call me now?" "Because it's not slow anymore," she says. "All survivors from that city are suddenly dying... thats not concerning to you?"
"...And you're sure it's connected to us?" he says. "I'm past sure," she replies. "It only shows up in people who were there." There. She doesn't say it. She doesn't have to.
Leon's eyes flick toward you. Just once. You're looking back, concerned, "...Then I'm on that list," he says. Silence, "...Yeah, both of us are." she answers. You sit up fully now. "...Leon, what is she talking about?" He doesn't answer. He looks down at his hand. Thinking. How much time does he have before he reaches the point of no return. Autumn and Asher. How much time, do they have left with him? So many questions but little answers.
"Sherry, what's going on?" You come close to the phone. "Y/N! Sorry to bother... it just a couple concerns that I wanted to ask Leon about" she downplays the situation at hand. Leon is quiet. You take the phone from him, "is there a new outbreak going on?" You simply ask.
"No! But there's concerns of a new variant and it's symptoms ..." she falters off.
Before the silence can settle too long, you speak. "...Sherry?" "...Yeah?"
"I don't know if this matters," you say carefully. "But yesterday... I saw something weird." Leon looks toward you immediately.
"What kind of weird?" Sherry asks.
You hesitate. "There was a car on the side of the backroad highway near the woods," you explain quietly. "Just sitting there."
Leon's expression shifts. Subtle. Listening now. "It was getting dark," you continue. "Close to sunset." Your brows pull together slightly. "And there was this dark smear near the driver side."
Sherry goes quiet. "...Smear?"
You swallow. "...Looked like blood." Silence. Heavy. You glance briefly toward Leon. "I thought I saw someone too," you admit quietly. "But I couldn't really tell."
"...Someone?" Leon questions.
"You remember," you say softly, glancing at him. "I told you."
His jaw tightens slightly. "...You said you weren't sure."
"Because I wasn't." A pause. "But something about it felt weird."
Sherry goes quiet again. Long enough this time that it feels deliberate. Then, "...Can you text me where this was?" Your stomach tightens. "...Why?" A beat. Then quieter "...Because something changed." Now the room feels different.
"...Changed how?" you ask quietly. A pause. Too long. "...We've been getting reports," Sherry says carefully. "Before, it was isolated. People getting sick. Disappearing. Dying." Leon's grip on the phone shifts slightly. Listening now.
"But now," she continues, voice lower, "...it's not isolated anymore." That lands differently. "...Meaning what?" Leon asks. Another pause.
"...Patterns," she says. "Similar areas. Same timelines. It's clustering." You glance at Leon. His expression tightens. "...And sightings," Sherry adds.
The room stills. Not dramatically. Just enough that everything feels sharper.
"...Sightings of what?" you ask quietly. Sherry hesitates. "...People acting wrong," she says. "Disoriented. Aggressive. Not fully... there." A pause. Then softer, "...Almost like Raccoon."
That name doesn't need to be repeated. It sits in the room anyway. Leon goes still beside you. You feel it before you even look at him,"...You think it spread?" he asks.
"I don't know," Sherry admits. "But something changed. The rate. The behavior. The consistency." A beat. Her tone shifts less analysis now, more personal. "...And Leon?"
"...Yeah." A pause. Then quieter, "If those marks are progressing like I think they are..." Her voice steadies, "...you may need to come in."
Silence. That one lands heavier than everything before it. Not warning. Not suggestion. A directive. Leon doesn't answer right away. His eyes drop slightly, like he's already calculating what that means. What he can leave behind. What he can't.
"...Come in where?" you ask before you can stop yourself.
Leon's expression shifts. Tiny. Fast. Gone just as quickly. "Now's not a good time," he says suddenly, voice lower.
"Leon," Sherry starts. "I'll call you later." A pause. Long enough to feel intentional.
"...Leon," she says again, quieter now. "Don't do that thing where you decide you're fine." His jaw tightens. "I said," he says, calmer this time, "I'll call later." Click.
The room goes quiet. Too quiet. You're still watching him. Really watching him now. Because Leon Kennedy only cuts conversations short when something matters. And whatever just happened? It mattered.
"...Leon?" you ask carefully. He doesn't look at you immediately. Instead, he reaches for the edge of the blanket, absentmindedly straightening it. Buying time. "It's nothing," he says. Too quick. Too practiced.
Then finally, he looks over. "I'm fine."
The room stills. Bedroom dim except for the TV flickering quietly against the walls. Shadows stretch lazily across the sheets, warm light catching against rumpled blankets. You're still holding the phone. Still sitting close enough to feel Leon beside you. But suddenly he feels farther away. You glance at him. Really glance.
The TV still hums softly in the background. Some late night rerun neither of you are watching. You slowly lower the phone. Set it on the nightstand. Neither of you move.
For a second, it almost feels normal.
The known has yet to be said out loud and it's a ticking time before shit hits the fan.Unbeknownst to both you and Leon, it already begun. Just how long before it actually hits your home?
AUHTOR'S NOTE: Chat, it's been one hell of a minute since I updated BUT I'm here! I hope everyone enjoyed this new chapter and be sure to vote, leave respectful feedback and comments.
BUT NEXT CHAPTER, WE WILL BE INTRODUCING RE9 UNIVERSE AHHH. I can't wait to start writing it. it's about to get real good, the plot is thickening!
<333 (ppoppypy)
