GRAVEDIGGER ━━━ leon s. kennedy

eight.

"We should go inside," Leon said, stepping forward to stand next to the grieving, dissociated girl so thoroughly drenched that the pink of her top was a whole other color. The puffs of mist from his breath blending into the air was heavier in opacity than his voice. "You'll get really sick."

There was no indication from Vera that she'd heard him. Leon attempted to swallow down the stacked rocks of guilt and pity and called her name, louder this time, uncompromising from the carefulness to not spook her, as he'd learned she was easy to startle.

He had to force his face not to sour in sorrow when she turned to him as if waking from a dream and not really comprehending her surroundings. "Huh?"

"We should go inside," he repeated, reaching for her, but not really touching, just to get her attention to gesture towards the police station. "You'll get sick if you stay like this any further."

"Ah," she smiled the tiniest bit, hollowly. "Sick, huh. Right."

He knew what she was thinking inside. As if she could care about something insignificant as catching a cold at this moment.

There was a pocket of shelter a balcony above provided they could use to step off from the rain. Leon was able to at least get her to back off together with him underneath it, even if they had to stand close to the body bags lined along the wall. She was intermittently getting the shivers, and he wasn't sure if it was the cold or the misery. Maybe both. The girl was missing a whole sleeve for god's sake, and her bandages were getting wet.

So, he ended up briefly leaving her side to go get the jacket he was wearing prior to changing into the uniform, and Vera accepted wearing it with little to no protest – like some patient in a hospital not really conscious of what the nurses did to her.

It was a bit baggy on her and covered her hands until only the ends of her fingers showed, but if it did its job in warming her up, then the size was no problem at all, on the contrary, the material wouldn't touch her bandages like this.

"Thanks," she exhaled, yet, had that bitter, distant, thousand yard stare on her as she adjusted the jacket that he didn't take personally.

Leon knew what he was saying and worrying about was so dumb from her perspective, but he had to look out for her, didn't he? She was all that was left. Even if Leon had been a colossal failure this far at protecting people he'd sworn to aid, he couldn't fall on his ass, let everything go and complain about it, he had to keep going – he had to keep trying his best and succeed this time. He had to make sure Vera was safe, and it started simple with looking out for her health so she had the strength to move forward. The girl wasn't in the right state of mind to care for her wellbeing right now, so it was up to him to remind and support her to get back on her feet.

It just didn't sit well with Leon how the situation was forcing him to go about it.

This really wasn't how a person facing death of an immediate family member should be treated like, in a better world he would be helping her take care of herself where he was allowed, and giving her all the time and space in the world she needed while making his presence clear as someone she could confide in and seek companionship whenever she needed it. Steer her in the direction of therapy without outright saying. These things required time and labor of the heart.

He was endlessly uncomfortable with basically having to tell her to suck it up and move on and mourn when she was safe to do so. Hated the cruelty of it, hated more that Vera was in this situation in the first place.

Though, what could he do? God, if he could somehow guarantee Claire and Sherry's safety to let Vera sleep and rest, he would let her stay by this grave as long as she needed to in a heartbeat.