All These Little Nightmares
Fandoms: Stranger Things x Resident Evil
Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x OC, established relationship
Description: Leah Daugherty has a nightmare of one of the many future possibilities that lie ahead of them. She has been having them for weeks, but this time Leon notices her slipping away from him.
Word Count: Approximately 3,545 words
Author's Note: Okay, so this is a snippet of a bigger project that I've been working on that crosses over Stranger Things and Resident Evil. I totally didn't get the idea from a meme post I saw on Instagram. Totally not. Leah has been an OC in my mind since season 4 of Stranger Things first debuted on Netflix. Still, while watching playthroughs of the new Resident Evil game (I do have it myself, but I'm waiting until the summer holidays to play it all the way through uninterrupted), I wondered whether I could make a crossover work. After all, Leah has been through trauma, and so has Leon. It also came from a place where both of these characters deserve a happy ending. Hence, this idea was born. So, here is a little sneak peek of what I have planned with a little less of that happy ending I am planning. Come on, they'll have to work for it. I hope you enjoy it!
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Even though decades had passed, the pain from loss still lingers. It festers under the skin and lurks in the darkest corners of the mind, sometimes long forgotten, until something snaps.
I'd lost my fair share thanks to the Upside Down and Vecna. My younger brother, Peter, died in the woods at the claws and jaws of a Demodog not long after we moved to Hawkins. I couldn't save Billy with my newfound powers at Star Court Mall. Max nearly died because of my lapse in judgement.
It wasn't my fault, but when I met with Dustin at the town hall after trying — and failing — to be Max's anchor, he told me the news. I didn't take it well.
Eddie always felt like more than a friend during those first fleeting moments of high school. He looked at me like I was any other person, not a superhero like Eleven. In his eyes, I wasn't a monster or a weapon. I was just Leah, sometimes Daugherty or Princess Leah, depending on his mood. That's all I needed to be.
When he died, it was like losing Peter all over again. It was like seeing the Mind Flayer hovering menacingly over Eleven and Billy while I faced an impossible choice. It was worse than being in Max's mind and having to face Vecna. No matter how hard I tried, I lost either way.
What I am trying to say is that I already knew the weight of loss when I met Leon S. Kennedy decades later. He came to Hawkins thinking he was dealing with a bioterrorism threat. I knew better. We all did.
In him, I saw a reflection of myself. I lost people I cared about. He'd lost an entire city, among other things. Both of us continued fighting for different reasons, but our morals were aligned. It only felt natural that we'd be drawn to each other's suffering, learning to heal in the process — even if the scars never fully left us. But he made it bearable.
Lately, I've been having strange dreams. Most nights, sleep was already a struggle without factoring in nightmares. But instead of forgetting the dreams the next morning as I normally did, I remembered them in vivid, cinematic detail. Every building interior, every clinical hallway, and every word spoken in the darkness. It all came back to me in a cold sweat.
Years may have passed since he first told me about Raccoon City, but I remembered everything he told me. I knew which building I was in, the Raccoon City Police Department, from his descriptions alone. It was exactly as he'd described, only in ruins now from what had happened after he escaped.
Stepping through the rubble, my heeled boots crunched on something that wasn't concrete. Leon's name in yellow and blue stood out on the circular sign against the grey dust covering it; the colours faded with age but were still starkly bold. There was something that was more than sad about it. It held a very different possible future, one where he was welcomed as a cop instead and where he probably would never have met me. The idea of it made me feel empty inside.
I couldn't help but wonder whether in that future he would have been happier. Whenever he spoke about the days before Raccoon City, the words 'purpose' and 'duty' would make his blue eyes sparkle distantly. The light would fade, extinguished, by what he went through and what he saw instead.
That future he dreamt for himself was not the future we lived. My heart broke for him every day, but it was hard to feel sad when his smile illuminated his face whenever I was anywhere near him.
I kept walking, ignoring the tightness in my chest at seeing the sign for myself.
Somewhere in the distance, above the low whistle of the wind travelling through the remnants of a forgotten city, I could hear shouts. They sounded familiar, but I couldn't place them in this dream world. I didn't go towards them.
As I entered the open expanse of what looked like the remains of a reception area, a statue towering above everything, a human body lay cradled on its side on the dust-covered ground. I could make out the muscles underneath a navy compression shirt. Their back was clad in a variety of weapons, some of which I couldn't name off the top of my head. The gentle rise and fall that lay there told me they were still breathing, still alive.
"Hello?" I called out into the empty space between us. "Do you need help?"
An all too familiar grunt, deeper than the one I knew, followed as he turned towards me with his arm reaching out.
I stared at him, something strangled crawling up my throat. I was caught between a scream and a sob, my hand flying up to my mouth instinctually to choke it down. Blinking back the tears starting to form, I tried to make sense of what I was seeing.
"Leah?" he asked, barely a sound coming out despite his mouth moving.
The first thing I noticed was that he was older. Ten years, maybe. Then I took in how pale he was and the trickle of blood from his lips after he coughed violently. What worried me more was the dark, black blotch of something peaking under his collar and crawling along the left side of his face. It looked unnatural.
As if in response, the power humming under my skin pulled back.
Lowering my hand, lips trembling, I closed my eyes and took a breath. Opening them again, I shook my head at him. "Leon?"
He tried to get up, but his legs failed him, and he collapsed onto the dusty marble. "You shouldn't be here," he choked out.
Almost like I wasn't completely in control of what I was saying, I retorted, "Did you really think I wouldn't come for you?" I took a careful step closer.
As he coughed, he held up his hand.
I sighed, ignoring it and getting closer until he was by my feet. Kneeling down, I moved his hair from his face with the tenderest flick of my fingers.
He caught my hand, taking my wrist into his gentle grip as he gazed at me with those sad blue eyes. "Leah," he said more seriously, an edge to his voice. "You shouldn't be here," he repeated.
"Neither should you," I snapped back.
Leon stared at the ceiling for a moment, exhaling slowly. "You're impossible."
"But you love me," I teased, unable to help myself.
With my other hand, I pulled the collar back to see the darkness it was hiding on his neck. I bit my lip when my fingers accidentally grazed it.
He hummed, but it sounded weak. "Do I even need to ask?" he whispered.
I could feel his eyes on me as I studied how many there were — the answer was too many. They were all over him. Under his gloves, they were there on his hands. His arms had more black blotches that weren't just dirt clinging to his skin.
Ignoring his question, I ran a hand through my unruly curls. "You're infected, aren't you?" I couldn't hide the wobble in my voice.
For a heartbeat, I waited. His silence was answer enough.
All my thoughts were selfish.
No, not him. Anyone else but him. Why us? Why was it always us who had to suffer? He can't leave me, not like this. After everything we've been through, this can't be how it all ends.
"Leah," he called to me, bringing me back from my thoughts. The look on his face was enough to tell me he knew what I was thinking. "It's okay."
"It's not okay," I choked out, biting down a sob. "It's always us. Why can't the universe pick on someone else for a change and let us be happy?"
The thumb on my wrist brushed my skin in gentle strokes. Even now, when he was clearly dying, he was comforting me. It should be the other way around. But I didn't know how.
"You know that's not how any of it works," he said slowly, calmly. "You'll be happy. You'll find a way."
Something snapped inside of my chest, my heart breaking. "Not without you." I leaned down until our foreheads touched, breathing in the dust and decay around us. My other hand lay on his chest, feeling the rhythmic thump of his slowing heartbeat.
Under my touch, I could feel him breathing harder and his heart trying to keep up with it. I clenched my eyes closed against him, feeling his breath on my face while I tried to will whatever was wrong with him out. I reached out with my powers again, but they recoiled away from him.
Before I could scream in frustration, the air suddenly became colder around us. There was something else here.
"Princess Leah," the voice sneered, mocking me with a nickname that was born from friendship. Slow, calculated footsteps padded on the floor somewhere in front of us. "You have lost, and you will lose again."
A chill ran down my spine, but I forced my gaze to flick up towards the thing.
Vecna stood by the statue, his cold gaze fixed on me. That's when I really knew I was dreaming. He was dead, only a manifestation in my mind of what I feared most. Oddly enough, it wasn't enough to reassure me.
"I won't lose him," I called back, but there was a sliver in my voice that sounded uncertain.
Completely still, he seemed to inspect me. Not in the same way as an insect under a microscope, but like he was trying to figure me out. "He will die—"
"Over my dead body," I interrupted. In response, my powers seemed to let out a burst of energy, a desk nearby exploding into splinters.
Lifting his chin, he considered me. "Your time together will run out. You will be alone and defenceless. You have known it all along. The happiness you sowed has an expiration."
I swallowed, the words sinking in slowly.
My thoughts drifted back to when I was a teenager, in the body of the Mind Flayer, the first time I heard Vecna's voice inside my head.
"You and I are alike. We were made to be bigger than the world will allow us to be. Let me help you realise your true purpose."
Almost like he sensed the change, Leon's grip on my wrist tightened, drawing my attention back to him. "Don't listen to him," he murmured. "You are not a weapon. You aren't a monster." A shuddering breath wracked his ribs, his steady gaze locking on me. "You're my Leah."
Those words he repeated time and time again. They were a prayer and a hope. It's something I held onto during the moments I felt like I was being used. But Leon always knew what to say to remind me who I was.
Still, his heartbeat slowed under my hand, and his eyes began to close. The resolve slipped from him, a weak cough forcing more blood out of him.
"No," I sobbed, unable to hold it back any longer. "You can't leave me."
Leon's gloved fingers grazed my cheek. His eyes fluttered open for a moment, and he looked up at me with a soft smile. "I won't. I'm just resting my—" Eyes fluttering closed again, I felt the lack of a pulse under my hand. The grip on my wrist loosened, and his hand fell at his side, limp.
He was completely still. Too still for whatever came next.
I gently prodded him. "Leon?" I asked quietly.
My fists gathered the fabric of his shirt at his chest, shaking him violently. "Leon!" The scream tore from my throat, echoing in the hollowness of the ruins.
From somewhere in front of me, I barely registered the retreating footsteps and the low rumble of laughter as my vision blurred.
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I jolted awake, sat up and breathed heavily. In and out, in and out, I tried to calm myself.
Beneath me, I could feel the pool of sweat soaking into the sheets and the bedding. My pillow was dripping wet, too. Everything else in the room seemed intact, so no spontaneous outbursts of powers while I was sleeping this time. I counted that as a very small win.
Turning to my left, I found Leon. He was younger than in my dream, his hair perfectly tousled from sleep. His gaze remained on me, hands reaching out to steady me if I needed it.
"It was just a nightmare," I stated.
It was the rhythm we'd settled into after every restless night, despite my mind still having one foot in the dream as I processed him alive in front of me. Not dead, not even close.
He nodded. "I'm still here." He took my hand and led it to his chest, just over his heart.
My skin brushed his. The rhythmic and strong thump pulsed beneath his chest, steadying me in the present. He was alive.
I exhaled slowly, closing my eyes. I let his heartbeat coax me into something akin to calm, but not quite there yet. With every breath, the grip of the dream faded, leaving me sitting there with Leon in our bedroom. Sometimes he breathed with me, other times he just made sure that I was coming back to him.
"We'll need to change the sheets again," Leon murmured.
This was what felt like the hundredth night of these nightmares. The same thing happened every time; he died. It happened in a different place and in a different way. Never the same twice, apart from the fact that I would always be too late to save him or help him. It was like the future hadn't decided what would happen and was televising every possibility into my dreams.
Unlike other nightmares I'd had, I chose not to record them in my diary. Instead, we talked it through to try to make sense of it. These were not dreams I wanted to remember.
Still, he was so patient with me. He didn't need to be told what this was about. He already knew.
I bowed my head against his chest. "Give me a moment."
A hand stroked the back of my head in soothing circles, fingers entwining with my sweat-soaked hair. "You'll also need a shower," he teased.
I couldn't help but laugh, tilting my head to look up at him. "You really know how to make a girl feel better."
Absently, he moved some auburn-brown curls out of my face. His fingers lightly brushed my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. A small smile crept onto his face, making him look more boyish, younger even.
My heart warmed at seeing him so at ease. It still bewildered me that he chose this — he chose me.
"I try," he said, pressing a kiss onto my forehead. "The same dream?" he asked, knowing he'd disarmed me for now.
My chest tightened as the remnants of the dream came back to me. I compared it to the others. The only thing the same about them was that he always died in each one.
I shrugged. "Thereabouts."
Leon stared at me for a long moment, smile faltering into something else I could never fully decipher. After all, how were you supposed to react when almost every night your girlfriend kept seeing different versions of how you might die in the future? To be honest, he was probably handling it better than most. Or he was good at hiding it behind helping me through it.
"You know, I am right here," he said, half reassuring me and half reassuring himself. His hand lay on top of my hand on his chest, pressing it down. "I'm nowhere else than right in front of you."
The thump of his heart against my palm kept me there with him. Not in the dream, but right there in front of him. This is what we'd practised every night since the dreams began.
Carefully, I reached out with my powers. I could feel his energy, the blood flowing through his veins and the quiet strength he possessed. Underneath it all was that unfamiliar hum of unnatural poison dormant within him. It was the first thing I searched for when I woke up from the first dream and every dream since. Feeling it there told me everything I needed to know about those dreams.
"Don't do that," he said, interrupting my thoughts.
I could hardly meet his gaze as I pulled my powers away from him. "Do what?"
He sighed, brows furrowing. "Look at me like I'm already gone."
The words felt like a punch to the gut. I flinched away from him, trying to pull from his hold. He firmly kept me there.
"Leah," he began softly. "I'm not leaving you."
I bit my lip, holding back the sob caught in the back of my throat. "Every time I see it—" My breath caught, the thought left unfinished between us. I didn't need to finish it. He already knew.
"I know," he said, gently rubbing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. "But it hasn't happened and you still look at me like I'm a ghost."
Heart cracking in my chest, I closed my eyes tightly shut as tears began flooding my vision. A sob escaped my chapped lips, wracking my ribs. "I'm sorry," my voice wobbled. "It feels real."
Taking my free hand, he guided it to his cheek, where it rested with his other hand on top. "Does this feel real?" he whispered, drawing me closer.
Eyes fluttering open, I looked into the blue oceans of his irises, allowing myself to drown in them. My lips parted, the nodding happening slowly. "You're here," I whispered carefully.
He blew out a breath. "Thanks to you."
I laughed, earning me a reciprocal smile from him. "Okay, I think I'm back now."
His smile didn't falter, but I could see him searching for any cracks he may have missed. Finally satisfied, he leaned back, not fully pulling away from where he kept my hands on him. "I'm going to run you a shower. While you're in there, I'll change the sheets."
It was the same routine every night. I have a nightmare. I wake up and he talks me back to reality. After, no matter how long it takes, he looks after me. Neither of us will be tired at that point, so we spend the early hours of the morning talking until one of us yawns and goes back to sleep until later in the day.
I learned not to argue with him. He wanted to take care of me, just like all the nights I'd taken care of him when his nightmares paid us an unwelcome visit.
Allowing my hands to fall to my sides, the absence of his warmth on my skin left a chill in my bones. I watched him walk into the ensuite bathroom. The trickling of water running from the shower filtered into the bedroom where I sat waiting.
Every so often, the memory of seeing Leon on the ground came to me in violent bursts. A stray tear betrayed me, falling down my cheek.
"Are you okay?" Leon asked from the doorway.
I quickly swiped it away, smiling up at him. "Um, yeah. Is it ready?" I pointed behind him.
He nodded, leaning against the doorframe.
I moved to walk past him, but paused when I reached his side. "You don't have to keep doing this, you know. I can take care of myself," I said for what felt like the billionth time.
Despite the solemn expression, he managed a small smile. "I don't have to, but I want to." He placed a kiss on my cheek, the brush of his lips still causing them to flush with heat. "Anyway, you like me taking care of you," he teased, resting his hand on my hip and giving it a comforting squeeze.
Tilting my head, I let the weight on my shoulders ease for the smallest of moments. Because no matter what the nightmares were trying to tell me about what lay in our future, all I ever needed was him by my side. I was sure it was vice versa, too. What mattered was that he was here. The real battle would be remembering that.
