SAVEGUARD ⟼ leon s. kennedy

xviii. confusing instincts

𝕝𝕖𝕠𝕟

𝟙𝟜:𝟛𝟘

"What?" Leon says, confusion blinding him. He takes a step away from you, and you come undone from the wall, bent over as if you've just run a marathon.

"What— How the hell do you know his name?" You ask, and you look so genuinely confused and scared that Leon's heart softens for a second.

But his heart had softened back in Racoon City too. That's how he had ended up as a pawn, with a gun pointed at his head, almost dead.

"Are you telling me you didn't know your ex father-in-law was the head of the FDC?" He asks you, crossing his arms across his chest.

Fuck, how he hopes Hunnigan has got it all wrong.

"I met him, like— Twice? Once for dinner and once at the amusement park— I don't even know what the FDC is," you stammer, sliding down the wall, your knees pressed into your chest.

"A police officer and you don't know what the FDC is?" He says, irritation rising from the pits of his stomach. Why does everyone think they can play him like he's some idiot? "Spare me the bullshit."

"What exactly about me strikes you as a cop that's good at her job?" You say, and you look up, and he catches sight of shiny tear drops at the corner of your eyes.

"Water works again. Of course," he says, his fingers on the hilt of his gun. "Is Clementine even your real name?"

You look at his hand on his gun holster, and his heart stops for a quick second as he sees the look of total vulnerability etched between your eyes. "Leon— Are you serious right now? Why are you reaching for your gun?"

"Because you're lying to me?"

He sees your head dart in the direction of the deck-chair you had been sitting on.

Your hip-pouch and holster are both there.

As he looks back in your direction, he sees you scramble to your feet, trying to reach the deck-chair in time for your handgun.

He swoops you up in one arm, grabbing you from behind, stopping your momentum as you desperately try to claw your way out of his grasp. "The T-Abyss virus messing shit up here? Developed by your lovely father-in-law. Working hand in hand with none other than your mentor, Steve Tripp who is one of the leading men of Il Veltro," he says in your ear.

"What the fuck," you cry as you dig your nails into his arm. "Leon, let me fucking go. I have no clue what you're talking about!"

You try elbowing him in his stomach, but he can barely feel anything on top of the embarrassment and betrayal he feels right now.

"I'm just doing my job," he says, and the words ring with harsh familiarity in his ear.

"And I'm doing mine, so let me get my damn gun to protect myself," you cry, but no matter how hard you try to break free from his grip, you don't manage. Leon knows he has both height and weight on you, which means he only needs to let you tire yourself out.

Eventually your nails stop digging into his arms, and he lowers you down, and as he does, he turns the safety of his gun on. He isn't ready to commit to the idea of actually killing you yet.

But he has to know the truth. So, he points the sights at you.

"Leon..." You whimper, still on the floor.

His heart jumps a little at the way you whimper his name, but he feels too betrayed to give a fuck about that anymore. "All that flirting, all that touching. Those fake panic attacks, you're a good actress. I can't believe I fell asleep and let you keep watch," he spits.

"Why the fuck would I agree to come here if I was who you're saying I am? Why the hell would I come on board a secluded cruise ship with special agent Leon fucking Kennedy?"

"To get me and Redfield in the same place, at the same time. He's probably coming with his partner too, but you knew that, right? Three agents, one ship."

You raise your hands to your face, breathing loudly, sliding backwards way from the aim of his gun. "I don't know— I don't know how you can even think— Even think that— I didn't know anything about Trapp's doings with Lansdale, I didn't even know the FDC existed."

Leon lowers his gun, his finger off the trigger, even though the safety is on. "Sounding like a broken record, Clementine."

You look up at him, and he can see the tears swimming around your eyes. Guilt clenches around his heart, but he knows how easy it is to turn that off.

You stand up, and he aims at you again. "Don't move," he commands. "I have direct orders—"

"So professional," you murmur, wiping the tears from your cheeks, and walk up to the deck-chair, wobbling a bit.

Leon knows how to turn off his emotions, knows how to calm his breathing, how to stop his heart from palpitating. So when he sees you reach for your own handgun, it is instinct that turns off the safety of his gun.

"Clementine," he says, steadying his stance. "I'm warning you."

You sniffle, your back to him. He sees you bend down to grab the handgun. "Leon, I don't know how I can convince you that I'm not lying." The words are so quiet he can barely hear them over the waves lapping into the cruise ship.

"Drop that damned gun!" He shouts, and fires a shot to your left. "I'm not messing around."

"Okay," you say, and in one clean movement, chuck your holster overboard, your gun hurling downwards into the great blue ocean. "Done," you say, your voice breaking as you blink back tears.

Leon lowers his gun and clicks the safety back on. "What is that supposed to prove?" 

But he already knows the answer to his question.

You have nothing left to lose.

"Shoot me, I don't care," you say, tears spilling onto your cheeks. "I have no proof that I didn't know about this. I'm— I'm sure you've shot people for less. I thought we at least trusted each other."

Leon sets his gun back in his holster after a few seconds of loud thoughts bombarding his brain. "Clementine, I'm not about to be someone's pawn again—"

"Again? How did I make you my pawn?"

Leon shakes his head, trying to come up with a plan, a plan so you can prove you're innocent— if you even are— but the pool on the observation deck starts bubbling, stopping his thoughts from forming. The grey colour of the pool turns a deep red, and then a light brown.

"Fuck," he groans, and instinctively puts himself between your body and whatever the fuck is about to come out of that disgusting water.

"This thing has perfect timing," you say behind him, and for a second Leon expects to turn around and see you make a run for it, but when he turns around to look at you, you're sitting there with a sickly smile on your face, your cheeks pale and and wet from your tears.

"Stay behind me," he tells you. "Our conversation's not finished yet."

"I hope not," you say as he steps back and feels your chest dig into his back. "You need to— You owe me an apology."

Leon turns to look at you again, and before he can stop it, feels that stupid grin form on his lips, the one you're able to coax out of him so easily.

He focuses his aim on the pool, and the nightmare that is about to erupt from within.