SAVEGUARD ⟼ leon s. kennedy

xvii. fool me once

𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕖
𝟙𝟜:𝟜𝟝

It just doesn't really add up; how quiet Leon is being.

So, as I sit here on this deck-chair on the observation deck, and look at the grey sky, waiting to see a helicopter coming to our aid, I try to add up what I know:

1. Leon and I have been aboard the Queen Zenobia for six days now. Maybe less, maybe more. 

2. Each of us has almost died without the other, multiple times.

3. Each of us has saved each other, multiple times.

4. He's talked me out of multiple panic attacks, always with the same degree of relentless patience and understanding.

5. We have, so far, joked about me wearing a red thong, us grabbing dinner together, us showering together. 

6. He has called me 'good girl' more times than my little head can handle. Three times, to be exact. 

7. He carried me on his back, fireman style, and refused to let go for a while, his grip on my waist teasing and firm.

8. Our conversations, once bordering on banter and flirting, are now... Strained and awkward.

What the hell am I missing?

Loud noises snap me out of my thoughts. Somewhere deep inside the ship, something has woken up. We have no way of knowing if it's another thing or just the ship's machinery somehow creaking back to life.

"Where the hell is Redfield?" Leon sighs, checking his watch. "We've been out here for three hours."

"Time flies when you're having fun, right?" I say, tongue in cheek.

Leon shoots me a look, and even though he looks like he thinks he's frowning, the little crinkle at the corner of his eyes give him away.

He looks at me for a while and I smile at him, waiting for him to joke back. I don't even care about the flirting right now. I just want his friendship again. He opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but instead his fingers shoot up to his earpiece, and he frowns in concentration.

"Roost?"

I can't hear what Hunnigan is saying to him, so I just stare at his blonde hair, how it still looks so god damn good.

"Roost— Slow down. Alpine Two is still with me," he says as he shoots me another look. "Roost? Fuck," he curses, standing up.

"What is it?" I ask, curious.

Anxious.

"The head of the FDC? And you're telling me this now?" Leon says, his voice in total disbelief.

He looks at me like he's just seen me for the first time.

"Negative," he says into his earpiece. "Roost, I— Roost, you have to listen to me."

He takes a step away from me, and I instinctively stand up, my hip-pouch and holster coming undone at my hips and flopping back onto the deck-chair. "Leon? You're worrying me."

Leon presses his earpiece in deeper, as if he thinks Hunnigan can't hear him loud enough. When he speaks, he looks deep in my eyes, like he's trying to read my thoughts. "Roost, for the final time, that is a hard negative. Condor One, out."

"What happened?" I ask, my head shaking slightly as I try to focus on anything but his penetrating gaze. I feel like he actually can read my thoughts, the way he's staring at me.

"Clementine," he says, taking a step towards me, his hand out.

I take a step back.

"Why'd you step back?" He asks, a very subtle look of hurt flashing across his face. It quickly changes to a look of alertness.

"You're kind of scaring me," I say, looking down. "Can you just spit it out?"

He closes the distance between us until he's almost close to my face, I panic and step back until my back hits the ship's deck wall behind me, a cold mixture of wood and metal, with ridges digging in between my shoulder blades.

Leon stops right in front of me, with his hand planted firmly on the wall, right next to my head. "I'm going to ask you a question, and you're going to reply. Truthfully."

He's so close to me that I can smell him, that same soap smell and body odour, and it makes me a little weak in the knees, how he can still smell so good to me.

"Okay?" I say, and my eyes start darting all over his face, the anxiety of his sudden seriousness making me panic, unsure of what to do, where to look, how to breathe. I catch sight of his gun in its holster, of all the tools on his belt—

"Look me in the eyes," he says quietly, and I do. "How do you know the head of the FDC?"

The acronym means nothing to me. "Who?"

"Clementine!" Leon slams his fist into the wall so hard, I feel the vibrations ripple through the back of my head. "I asked you a god damn question."

"I have no idea who the hell you're talking about," I say, and my voice comes out all high-pitched, like it was supposed to be loud, but failed miserably. I try to push him away from me, both my palms pressing against his chest, but he doesn't even so much as half-budge.

"I have intel on you," he says.

"What intel—"

"Don't interrupt," he interjects. "I have orders to kill you right here, on the spot."

The total bewilderment I feel in my chest is so bright and so loud that for a second, my vision blurs and my feet can't feel the floor anymore.

"What?? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"How do you know Morgan Lansdale?"

I connect the dots in my head for a quick second, but with Leon staring at me, it feels like an hour. "My ex's DAD? What the fuck?"

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