The duration of your absence had just as big an effect on Leon as it did you.
Leon lost himself. 3 whole years desperately trying to cling onto hope that you are alive somewhere out there. With no evidence to prove anything to him.
The beginning months remain the same for Leon, spending long hours at the DSO using all the energy he has left in him to help find you, following maps, re-reading the transcript he's already gone over hundreds of times. Thinking maybe something will stand out to him this time. Something has to be there. Anything.
You can't leave him like this.
The DSO begins to struggle more and more, spending budgets on agents flying out to random locations related to Umbrella, using all their equipment, still failing to find you. Everything fails, no matter what they do.
Every time the team returns from their time spent searching, Leon already knows they have found nothing, I mean he's literally spent his days and nights glued to the desk watching the agents through the tracking system.
Still, it crushes Leon's heart more and more. Hope slowly fading at each return with nothing helping them move on from the depth of struggle they've been in for half a year.
Upon reaching the 1 year mark, Leon is called in by Simmons for a private meeting, 1-on-1. Leon instantly felt nervousness creeping up his neck. His heart rapidly beating with every step towards the door.
He lifts his hand slightly and knocks 3 times.
Leon's hand closes around the handle as he swings it open, shutting it behind him, stepping forward into the dimly lit office.. Leon clears his throat and clasps his hands over his crotch.
"You asked to see me sir?" He asks, a professional but weary tone wobbling his words slightly.
Leon nods his head, already dreading where this conversation is heading.
He watches as Simmons swallows deeply, trying to find something for his hands to do to stop them from fidgeting with each other. If one of the highest in the DSO is nervous too, this can't be good.
Leon's mind starts to race with possibilities of what he's going to say, making assumptions that cause his throat to choke on a lump, his stomach churning at the thought of hearing your name, followed by 'dead'.
"In regards to the mission." Simmons starts, stopping Leon's current train of thought, slightly startling him.
Leon closes his eyes, shaking his head lightly.
"No. No it's not, we just have to look harder." Leon replies, his voice stern with a slight crack in his words.
"There is nothing to help us here. Our agents are constantly finding empty spaces, no trace of (Y/N) whatsoever. I know it's not what you want to hear-"
"You aren't looking hard enough." Leon's voice cuts Simmons off.
Simmons takes a deep breath.
"We are wasting money on this, we can't keep going in blind."
Leon remains silent, his heart pounding through his chest, fists clenched around the armchair of the seat causing his knuckles to turn white.
"Kennedy, it has been a year. I think it's time we move on" he pauses, "that you move on." Simmons' voice echoes through the walls of the office.
Leon's breath falters for a moment, his stomach dropping. His face heats up faster than he can completely process the words that Simmons has just said to him.
"Take some time off work. Focus on the remainder of your training. And then we can have words about your upcoming missions and future deployments." The words follow, as if it is that easy to do.
Leon's tired of arguing against Simmons, knowing it'll never work out in his favour and just result in being sent home, even further away from you. Feeling utterly useless.
Leon swallows back the words flying around his mind. Inhaling through his nose deeply.
Leon simply stands back up and walks out of the office. The words echoing through his mind on a loop.
"I think its time we move on."
Leon rushes for the exit of the DSO HQ, heading straight for the car parked on the side of the building.
Once he enters, the door slams shut behind him as he settles into the driver's seat, the noise vibrating through his ears, but not as loud as his heartbeat and Simmons words that continue to stab him in the chest.
He turns the engine on, it roaring loudly beneath him as he switches the radio on, instantly increasing the volume of a rock song that is a part of the driving playlist both you and him had created a while ago for road trips together. The bass of the song shakes the vehicle, the pure noise helps to overrun the voices in Leon's head, just for a little while at least.
Leon pulls out of the car park, driving straight towards a place he knows will help clear his mind at least a small amount for now. The bar.
He pulls up not too long after leaving the DSO, only a 10 minute drive away from the office, and a 10 minute drive to the apartment. Leon parks the car down the road from the bar, allowing himself to feel the faint breeze of fresh air hit his body for a quick moment as he walks down the street.
Upon approaching the bar, the muffled sounds of cheerful laughter and clinking of glasses welcome him into the building. The aroma of alcohol, cologne and cleaning products instantly hit his face, a familiar scent for him as of late.
Leon walks through the crowd of drinkers and friends, all cheering and dancing to the faint hum of music playing over the speakers. Their arms reaching over each other's shoulders in a tight huddle.
As he sits down at the bar, choosing the bar stool furthest from the crowd and in view of the exit, the bartender heads his way, nodding their head as they pour his drink. Already knowing his order from how often Leon visits.
The glass is set in front of Leon, his gaze fixed ahead at nothing in particular. He picks it up, downing it in one singular swig, placing it back down on the bar with a light thud, tapping his finger next to it to signal another.
The atmosphere of a Friday night in the bar is buzzing, groups of friends shouting over the noise of music and other people. Though the noise in Leon's head is much louder. A noise that's been rising in his head the moment he returned home to find you gone.
A noise which grows louder and louder each day.
His eyes find a corner booth, watching a group of friends speak to each other, all with a smile across their face. Though his gaze swiftly finds its way to the couple sitting amongst them, the man's arm around the girl, keeping her close. Leon's heart instantly feels heavy from the sight.
It felt wrong to watch other people have what you both shared together, having it cut away from him so unexpectedly fast. He envied it, the normality, the comfortableness, what he used to have.
The sound of laughter erupts from the far corner of the bar, the glow of warm overhead lights illuminating the busy drinkery on a warm Friday evening.
You and Leon sat together amongst familiar friends shared between you, formed of your time spent in Raccoon City and Leon's DSO training experience so far.
Ahead of you sits Claire Redfield, her red hair falling softly at her shoulders, a laid-back yet comfortable version you have grown used to seeing on the rare occasion of meeting up. Beside her, Claire's brother, Chris. A man whose frame speaks for itself, laughing with his sister at something shared between them. A smile crossing his face, his eyes crinkling in the corners.
Sat beside you is Jill Valentine. You guys had met a while ago whilst you and Leon settled into Raccoon City, she had been a part of S.T.A.R.S, and had been through the incident that took place that cold September night, just as you, Leon and Claire had. She sits there in a comfortable silence, occasionally stepping in to throw the odd insult or joke towards Chris.
Leon sits on the other side of you, the edge of the table. A space he chose for a reason, to keep an eye.
His arm drapes over your shoulder, his fingers lightly caressing the skin at the top of your arms in a circle. The touch soothing to your mind, reminding you of his presence. Leon's way of showing love had always been through physical touch, whether that would be an arm around your body, his hand finding yours, a hand at the small of your back when walking, his head resting on yours, or even just sitting closely so that your knees brush each other's.
A touch which soothes him just as it soothes you.
The evening concludes after numerous drinks and conversations. A catch up between the group that only takes place a few times in the year since leaving RC, everyone's schedules are so busy lately, so it's been hard to find the time.
Leon leans closer to your head, his breath ticking at the crook in your neck.
"Wanna head home?" he mutters to your ear.
You turn your head to face him, cupping his face gently with your hand and placing a soft kiss to his lips, followed by a peck to the bridge of his nose.
"Yeah, I'm ready for bed." you respond with a faint, tired smile.
You and Leon both say your goodbyes to the group, leaving the bar at the peak time of the night. The sun faded completely, stars filling the dark moonlit sky. A breeze sweeping the streets, sending chills over your body, forming goosebumps to rest faintly on your skin.
Leon's hand intertwines with yours as you walk side by side in a comfortable silence, your body automatically leaning closer to his arm. Your joint hands sway back and forth between you.
Leon often turns his head to look at you in the comfortable, silent slow walk home, a soft warm smile covers his face. His heart is at ease. Such a normal moment, but it feels so special shared with you. His hand squeezes yours, causing your stomach to flutter.
Leon still somehow causes butterflies to appear in your belly, after so long spent together, the love you guys share has never once faltered.
1 drink turns into 3, which swiftly turns into far too many for Leon to function as a normal human. The bartender refuses Leon another drink. He huffs and lowers his head at the words.
His head feels slightly quieter, but nothing lifts the heavy feeling sinking over his heart.
Leon soon returns to his training, a brief distraction from home. His trainer Jack Krauser understood his situation well, offering a welcoming smile any time he saw him. Krauser often began taking it slightly easier on him on the harder days, he would even ask if Leon wanted to talk about it after sparring. Especially if he could sense Leon's feelings through his punches, his scrunched up face, narrow eyes, heavy breathing.
Krauser soon became one of Leon's most trusted friends. The only person who he looked up to and would speak with about everything going on in his mind.
After many more months pass, Leon eventually completes the necessary training required to be a fully qualified DSO agent. Granting him with the privilege of field work and deployments. Fun!
Leon specifically requested himself to be sent to missions without a partner, claiming he works better that way, which isn't a lie. He really does function under pressure alone without someone else to focus on, prevent them from getting hurt, and them standing in the way of his plans.
He continues to visit the bar during the heaviest moments that cloud his mind. You never once leave his train of thought.
Despite Simmons telling him that your mission had resulted in a dead end, and that they are ending it, Leon agreed to move on, but during his free time, he'd attempt to conduct his own research.
The apartment quickly filled with maps strung along the walls, images of umbrella locations pinned to the map from where they are situated. Red ribbon hanging between various locations.
The room soon looked nearly unidentifiable as a space that you once shared with him. Now it is his own personal office where he spends all his time sitting at the table reading files, watching CCTV footage and researching through the DSO database on previous umbrella locations they had raided.
Even his own attempts at finding you failed, they hid you well. Too well.
He couldn't even think of a reason why an umbrella would keep you for so long, at first he believed it was because of himself. He stuck with that for a while, taking the blame for your disappearance but never once sharing that thought with others.
Leon tries his best to hold onto hope of finding you, secretly praying that one day you would just simply show up out of nowhere with open arms. A silly thought that he kept telling himself to get over and get a grip of himself.
The DSO began sending Leon off for his first few solo deployments, small missions just to test his capabilities and for himself to prove his point on being better off without a partner.
The deployments helped slightly, being far away from home. Since anywhere Leon would go or turn to would soon result in a flood of memories, making his heart heavier again. Taking out his emotions onto people who deserved pain and death, often picturing bioweapons to be some random umbrella agent he had imagined to be the reason for your kidnapping.
Although the feeling didn't lighten for long, the moment he returns from missions back to the apartment reminds him you aren't there to welcome him home with the cheery smile you always have and open arms that squeeze him half to death.
He'd travel to countries across Europe, places he probably would have never visited if it weren't for work. Bosnia, Andorra, Slovenia, Belarus, the list goes on. Though some missions were located in places you had both planned to vacation at together, those hit the hardest. The gorgeous coastside in Italy, the mainland of Greece, the populated city of Amsterdam, constantly imagining you walking beside him, pointing at the pretty views that he thought you would simply make look pathetic compared to the sight of you.
If you were still at home waiting for him, he thought of bringing home souvenirs and gifts from little tourist shops he walks past. A bracelet, magnet or trinket box, something small that he knew would put a smile on your face with ease, his favourite sight to see.
After 2 years of you being gone, Leon really did begin to lose hope in ever seeing you again.
God he didn't even know if you have been alive this whole time, maybe they really have been chasing a ghost.
Leon's DSO friends, more like his work acquaintances, tried their hardest to help him move on, get him back into the world of dating and women. Afterall, it had been 2 years.
He just couldn't ever shake the feeling off his chest that you'd be back.
It took a lot of convincing from the guys to even get Leon to come with them to a club rather than a bar, it wasn't his type of place. He's only ever stepped foot in a few with you to keep you company and keep you safe.
Of course, with Leon's handsome looks, he picked up a lot of women's interest, plenty of girls drooling over him. Flirtatiously flipping their hair, batting their eyelashes, touching his arm.
None of which turned Leon's attention to them. He'd often ignore them, or simply stand there as they drag him to the dance floor, not paying much attention to the girl grinding over his body. If anything, it made him uncomfortable.
At least he's out of the apartment.
Once it had reached the 2 and half year mark, Leon was nearly entirely convinced you were gone for good. And that crushed him. It was rare he would go through a whole day without his mind returning to you, your eyes, your smile, your hair, your gentle touch, soft skin. The sound of your laughter felt like such a far away memory in his mind.
He can't even recall your voice anymore. Only images of your face stand still in his mind.
Though he often has flashbacks hit him unexpectedly, making him lose complete focus on a task he had been focused on. Usually something small like scrolling through his phone, sitting at the bar, or stirring the pan of food over the heat of the stove.
But at times, during missions, his mind would drift to you. A memory of sorts crossing his mind. Causing a B.O.W to have a perfect attack on his standstill frame.
The memory soon snaps back to reality as a monstrous creature hangs over his body, chomping away at the air dangerously close to his face.
At this point, Leon gave in to the women pining after him at bars and clubs, only occasionally hooking up with a random woman who had been staring and practically throwing herself at him.
It meant nothing to him. He barely received any pleasure from it. Not once did he kiss one of the women he slept with. Not once did he bring a woman back to the apartment. Always either taking it to her place or a bathroom stall. Nothing too personal.
His mind is constantly thinking of you during the acts of 'love' making. Picturing you beneath him, himself inside you, faint memories of sexual encounters with you embedded into his mind. That had been the only way he'd reach a climax. Otherwise it would result in nothing.
An overwhelming sense of guilt would fall upon his shoulders afterwards, hating himself for what he's doing. Both for the woman's sake and his own. And for you. He felt as if he were betraying you, cheating on you. Hurting you. Despite you being god knows where or worst case, dead gone and buried.
Nearly no hope was left in your return in Leon's heart. Leaving a permanent mark on his heart, a heavy weight that crushes him every morning when he remembers you're gone. It hits him harder when he awakens from a nightmare, his horrible dreams of RC continue. But the worst? Dreams of you, here with him, dreams that felt like real life, like a memory. And then he'd wake up, the an empty apartment, an empty bed.
His drinking continued, and worsened over time. Heavily relying on the thick burn of whiskey coating his throat and turning off his mind for a little while.
Time felt as if it were both a time-lapse of life going by since you vanished, but still feeling dreadfully slow. Repeating most days, always doing the same thing to pass the time. Days became a blur, nothing really felt special to Leon anymore. Like his life had lost true meaning.
The bench you had both spent so much time sitting at overlooking a breathtaking view, Leon would find himself visiting it alone, sitting at the same spot staring into the distance. Hearing the faint distant memory of your voice beside him. Like a ghost.
Watching a shitty reality TV show you had loved, just to have a laugh. He used to find himself invested in it despite his complaints, curled up on the couch with you snuggling into his chest, his arm resting on your waist as his fingers ran through your hair. Watching it alone in the apartment felt emptying, no laughter escaping from him. No feelings. Nothing.
Cooking a meal you both enjoyed eating during special occasions was Leon's final attempt at feeling closer to you again. Spending the time over the stove, putting effort into the seasoning and ensuring it was cooked perfectly. As if he didn't want to offend the memory.
He sits at the table alone, digging into the meal slowly. The dim glow of the TV from across the room lighting up the space in flashes of light. It didn't feel the same, nor did it taste the same as he remembers.
Even just the act of repeating something you both had done together, but alone felt like he was betraying you. He didn't even continue watching the series you started together. It felt wrong to him.
He had lost hope in you coming back, but never lost the thought of you. You are a part of him, deep inside.
After 3 years had passed, Leon entered the DSO at his usual time, prepared to sit at his desk for hours engrossed in heaps of paperwork and writing reports of previous missions he's been on recently.
However, after he reaches the designated floor, he notices more agents running around, louder chatter filling the space, folders everywhere, screens displaying a location of a village. The other side of the hall had files pulled up onto the screen, images of a forest and what looked like the site of destruction. Leon had no idea where to turn first.
He overhears conversations between agents, roughly making out the words 'Spain', 'missing', and 'cult'.
And to his other side, he eavesdrops more conversations, only just about hearing 'laboratory', 'Bioweapon', and 'Umbrella'. His face turns upwards in confusion, brows furrowing, what the hell is happening?
"Perfect!" A voice echoes from across the hall, Leon turns his head to the direction of sound.
Simmons approaches Leon from the end of the hallway.
"Come to my office, Kennedy."
Leon follows Simmons, a brief silence falling over the two. As they reach the office, Leon shuts the door behind him, to which Simmons signals for him to sit at the chair in front of the desk.
"There's a mission that requires your dedication. It's harder than previous ones, the risk is undeniable and unpredictable. But we need you."
Leon remains quiet, waiting for more details, because realistically, does he have a choice in this?
"This mission is top priority. The president has specifically asked for you to be assigned."
"The president?" Leon asks, curiosity peaking. Though his face doesn't show the expression, he remains stoic, just as he has been for a while now. Eyebrows remain furrowed.
"The president's daughter, Ashley Graham, has been taken to a Spanish island by members of a cult, suspected bioweaponry involved."
Great. Fucking great. A mission to rescue someone who has been taken, sounds familiar.
Leon simply nods, understanding immediately.
"When do I leave?" he asks.
"3 days time. Plan well, communicate with Hunnigan and be safe."
"And what about what I've overheard about some sort of forest related to Umbrella?" Leon asks, confused as to why some agents had been focused on that, whilst others focus on Spain.
Simmons sighs, as if he knew Leon would ask this.
"We have reports of a dangerous Umbrella B.O.W loose, it broke free from an undetected laboratory, destroying the entire place."
Leon takes a breath inwards.
"So both are high risk missions, but I have no choice but to go to Spain to rescue this 'Ashley Graham?'"
"You are one of our best, Kennedy. And the other mission will be assigned to the rest of the team to handle. I trust in you."
Leon nods in response, picking himself off the seat before extending an arm to shake Simmon's hand in acknowledgement.
He exits the office, making his way to Hunnigan's office to discuss the plan for communications and aid in his mission. They speak for an hour, going through rough routes they have identified so far, Leon receives intel on the location, a map and information on who have taken her - not enough to fully grasp the full extent of how dangerous this mission really is.
Leon returns home at the apartment, kicking off his boots before making his way to the kitchen, opening the fridge for a beer. He sits himself onto the couch, a long exhale as he leans his head back.
A hand runs over his face, flicking his hair back in one long movement. The dark circles under his eyes are much more prominent than ever, frown lines standing out above his eyebrows.
The DSO arranges Leon a flight to Spain, informing the local police department of his arrival coming up, instructing them to make sure he receives help from officers from the area. Leon knows some Spanish, the basics that he has picked up over the years of many missions and his own boredom. So it shouldn't be too difficult to communicate with local villagers about whether they have seen a blonde girl as of late.
What may be a challenge however, is understanding what they respond with. Though Leon is confident enough to make out some words and combine them through context.
The next few days entail more planning, more meetings, briefings and paperwork leading up to Leon's departure. A boring couple of days. Meaning his mind often trailed elsewhere, to you. Still heavy on his heart. But he knows he needs to just push you out of his mind, concentrate on this mission, come home, and do it all over again.
The DSO has erupted into organised chaos of agents running back and forth offices, 2 missions taking place at the same time.
The morning of the Spain mission starts bright and early. The early dawn sunlight glistening through the small gaps between the curtains and window, lighting up the bedroom.
Leon is already awake however, not getting nowhere near enough sleep that'll provide him with the energy needed, he isn't even sure how long he'll be gone for, hoping that it will be a get in then get out situation, get the job done as soon as possible.
His flight is at 9:00am. Leon glances over at his watch resting on the bedside table, 5:00am.
His eyes fall on the side of the bed next to him, empty. Leon never rolls over to your side of the bed, he keeps the space free, imagining your beside him grants him some comfort. Until the realisation kicks into reality that you aren't really there, a figment of his mind for years.
Leon forces himself out of bed, having a brief cold shower to wake himself up before he packs the final bits of gear and equipment into his duffel bag, heading out of the apartment.
The drive to the airport was quiet, he chose not to play his music too loud, trying to keep himself focused and prepared for the journey and mission ahead. 8 hours of travelling awaits him, followed by possibly many sleepless nights and non-stop fighting god knows what.
The airport security runs smoothly, Leon's DSO badge proves useful to pass queues as a top priority flyer, meaning he gets through the worst parts far too quickly. So quickly that he still has hours to spare until his gate opens.
Leon lets out a frustrated groan as he flips his wrist to glance at his watch. How the hell does he spend 2 and a half hours in the airport now?
He decides to sit himself down at a cafe, his other option was to get a drink. Which he soon realised would be far too inappropriate and unprofessional, he doesn't drink on duty. Leon orders a black coffee with a sandwich for his breakfast.
He takes his time to eat it, no rush. A common theme that occurs during Leon's time at the airport alone, his mind thinking of you being with him, preparing for the vacation ahead. You had never managed to go on an actual vacation with him. Leon would always be at training, clashing with the plans you made together.
Now here he is, travelling the world for the reasons he did not expect. Without you by his side.
As the time eventually passes, the intercom of the airport announces Leon's gate opening. He gets up from his seat, beginning the long walk to the plane.
His seat is at the front of the plane, aisle seat. Planned for easy route and safety precautions. As he boards the plane, he reaches above his aisle to store his bag in the overhead compartments.
Settling comfortable into his seat, spreading his legs slightly as he slouches backwards, head resting back until the boarding ends.
Once the plane takes off, he takes out his headphones, turning up the volume to a reasonable limit, not too loud and not too quiet, enough so he can hear his surroundings in case of an emergency.
His eyes shut, maintaining his breathing, slowly falling asleep for the majority of the flight. Having no expectations of how the next few days will go. And what monstrosities will be there to welcome him, with what heaviness will welcome him back home afterwards.
