Together: A Dark Romance Duet || Leon Kennedy x Female Reader

Chapter 8: Leon

We've been walking for almost an hour in silence, moving in the dark like ghosts. In the distance, torches glow like beacons in the night, a sign that tells me we are heading the right way.

I look back to check on her and find her eyes wide in the dark, staring ahead blankly. Ever since she coughed up that blood, my nerves have been on edge, igniting at every little sound or movement she makes, hoping it's not another manifestation of her sickness. So far, she's been okay, quiet. No sarcasm or questions present. I wonder if her silence means she is thinking too much about everything—her sickness and this whole fucked up situation. I can't have her spiraling. Her suffering in silence is almost worse than audible panic.

I've kept my right hand down at my side for her to hold as we walk, and she remains gripping my wrist. I'm trained to use a gun with both hands, so I can still protect us if anything happens. But she wouldn't know that this connection is for both our benefits—that this contact helps to calm me down, too. Without her holding onto me, I'm almost scared she might be taken, snatched by something in the shadows. She's forced to remain at my side, close and safe.

I try not to think about how steady it makes me feel to have her so near, to have someone relying on me, and not in a professional way like I've been depended on so much these past few years. Besides the mission, this girl is depending on me not only to save her life but to take care of her. It seems like for so long, I've only had to worry about myself, and that's been all too overwhelming.

Do the work, stay alive, complete the job. Repeat and repeat. Work and work and work. Keep it professional. Don't think about the past. Shove it all down, and stay numb. Don't let them see you falter. For so damn long, I've been doing this. For so long, I've been alone, dealing with my own shit.

The thought comes out of nowhere: how long have I felt so goddamn alone?

Don't go there, I tell myself. Focus.

If she weren't still holding onto my wrist like it was keeping her from sinking, I'd be worried she'd already drown.

"You're quiet. You okay?" I say, still looking ahead.

"Are they paying you extra to keep checking on me?" she says after a moment. The words sting a bit at the ice in her tone, but I know she's not in the best headspace right now.

"No, but they might raise my pay," I respond.

That earns a breathy laugh. Then she says, "I know your mission here is to get me home, but what about the rest of it?"

"The rest of it?" I question.

"These people—will they be cured? Does anyone plan to investigate this? Are there medical professionals who can help them?"

I grimace, not truly knowing the answers to any of that. "I don't know. My only mission is to rescue you and get you home safely. I wish I could tell you that I knew what was happening here. I'm just as in the dark as you."

"I refuse to believe that," she mutters. Then, "You survived Raccoon City—the virus outbreak. Don't you think the same thing could be happening to these people?"

I see where she's getting at. It's not like I haven't thought about it. This mission has already brought me so close to my past again. These people, their mindless obsession to kill. It's brought me back to the edge of a bottomless ravine I've tried so hard not to fall into. The memories that haunt me seemed to have jumped out of my head and taken shape in the form of these people. And that fact that I've run into a former researcher of Umbrella...I hope, for all our sakes, it's only a coincidence and Umbrella is nowhere near involved in this.

"It's possible. But let's just focus on—"

"You don't give a fuck."

I stop walking. Turn to face her slowly. To her credit, she looks up at me with a steel gaze, not once shrinking back. My anger is mirrored in her glassy eyes.