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Ashley was quiet. Too quiet.
Sure, the girl had been timid and skittish with Leon after their initial introduction in the church. The agent would feel her gaze scanning him constantly, with wary body language betraying any initial promises of trust. She was an open book—darting eyes, fidgeting hands, staring at his gear as she kept a moderate distance, as if he’d lunge toward her at any moment.
Leon couldn’t blame her. He knew the dangers of trusting someone who claims to be on your side. It was nice to see that the President’s daughter had a good head on her shoulders.
Even so, Ashley had slowly opened up to Leon as they focused on their escape. She wouldn’t talk much about herself, instead taking an interest in learning more about him. It had only taken an hour for the girl to start asking Leon questions that were surface-level and honestly rather pointless, though they didn’t annoy him. As time progressed, her vocal prodding had grown from cautious to curious—what initially started as “why did my father send you?” and “how did you know I was here?” slowly delved into “what is your favorite color?” and “are you a hot shower or a cold shower type of person?”
He’d humor her every time, of course—even if it was with short, one-word answers that would have bored almost anyone else. The questions seemed to give her a small sense of control, and he wouldn’t keep that from her. If giving her the small talk she craved would build trust, then what the hell. His favorite color wasn’t confidential.
It’s been multiple hours since Ashley had gotten talkative. Skirmish after skirmish with the infected villagers had taken place, rife with gunshots, gore, and adrenaline. Throughout the process, Ashley had lost her appetite for small talk, sticking close to her protector without a word unless he ordered her to give some distance.
Now, they walked along a beaten path surrounded by woods. Neither of them spoke, their boots scuffing softly against the grainy dirt. Every once in a while, the rhythm would be disrupted when Leon held up his hand in a halting motion before using his combat knife to disarm a bear trap in their path.
Just like how Leon didn’t mind Ashley’s attempts at small talk, he didn’t mind silence either. It had become a familiar element to his life as an agent. Sometimes, it was a friend, offering respite between action, or an environment to gather his thoughts. However, this was different—uncharacteristic.
Leon noticed how Ashley’s footsteps were slowly falling further and further behind him, dragging slightly. It wasn’t a limping gait, but it was uneven. Unfocused. He tilted his head back and glanced at her for any sign of wounds as she walked, but only caught a far-off look in her eyes.
“Ashley. You okay?” Leon asked her seriously, scanning her form further. She had a few scratches on her arms and shins, puffy and pink against her fair skin. No doubt from their earlier skirmishes in the woods. Her clothes were dirty and worn in some places, but there was no blood to be seen. His brow furrowed. “You’re quiet. You can tell me if something is wrong,” he pushed.
Ashley squirmed under his scrutinizing eyes, shaken from her daze while realizing how she had fallen behind. “I’m… okay. Don’t worry, I’m good.” The girl rubbed her arm awkwardly as she increased her pace and caught up to him. “Just… processing, I guess.”
Ashley’s gaze met his, but it was clear that she wasn’t completely there. Leon could see the way she was looking through him about the same amount as she was looking at him; it was a look he occasionally saw in the mirror, usually after a long night where the only way to drown bad memories was through the bottom of a glass. The President’s daughter or not, she was too young to have eyes like that. Ashley was supposed to be at college, for God’s sake—gossiping with her friends, attending sorority events, complaining about classes, meeting new people. Not this. Nobody deserved this.
“C’mon. The more we keep moving, the sooner we’ll get out of this mess. Okay?” Leon tried to reassure her with a serious look. He put a gloved hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, hoping the sensation would be grounding.
Ashley gave a subtle nod and a strained smile, though she wasn’t really looking at him. “Yeah,” she said with a weak voice.
Leon frowned and removed his hand.
As much as he wanted to help her by being good company, Leon wasn’t exactly the best talker. If he was, the government would’ve trained him to be the highest level of hostage crisis negotiator, rather than a counter-bioterrorism killing machine.
It was yet another reason Ashley had always been the one to initiate the lighthearted questions. She never took offense from his short, often vague answers, nor the fact that he never asked anything back. The girl knew that he had to focus on keeping them alive, and she respected that boundary. It was a maturity beyond her age, especially for the current situation.
Leon could still remember how terrible it was just to be alone in Raccoon City, back when he was a different person. For the most part, there had hardly been a single soul to talk things through with, nobody to bounce ideas off of, nobody who would care whether he lived or died. Those brief moments that he was able to meet up with Claire during their escape felt like the only thing that kept him motivated, at times. Their limited conversations through the RPD’s iron gates or Umbrella Lab’s comms has given him hope, a vision of escaping, a tangible reason to plan ahead. Hell, even his brief time with Ada had calmed his nerves, even if she wasn’t exactly a stable presence.
The memories opened a pit in his chest, but he refused to fall down into it. Instead, he redirected his focus back toward Ashley, and how Leon could prevent her from falling down her own pit that was clearly already in the process of being dug.
Leon urged them to continue on the path, keeping his head on a swivel for any stray villagers or bear traps. The gap between the both of them was a bit smaller now, their bodies closer to being side-by-side, though he still remained just slightly ahead as a precaution.
In his head, Leon went over the information he knew about Ashley from his intel. She was twenty years old, a college student starting her second year. Sorority girl. Her last physical report measured her height as five foot six, weighing approximately one hundred and twenty five pounds. Blood type O-positive. Blonde hair. President Graham is her father, currently running for re-election. No siblings.
It wasn’t a lot. Most of it was useless for conversation, actually. But he could work with it.
He cleared his throat. “Hey, Ashley, tell me. What do you study in college?” Leon asked, keeping his voice low.
Ashley’s eyes flickered, looking up at him in confusion. It took a few seconds for her to register that Leon had asked her a question. It was probably the first thing he said to her in hours that wasn’t some sort of order or reassurance.
“Oh! Uh, well…” she floundered, picking at a scratch on her arm. “I actually… haven’t decided yet. I was in the middle of taking some general courses to get a feeling for what I’m interested in, but then…”
“Surprise vacation to Spain.” Leon huffed.
Ashley smirked for the briefest moment, but it fell away. “Yeah.”
Another awkward pause as they walked among the dry brush of the forest. Leon cursed himself for his inability to steer the conversation away from their current predicament. Like he said, he wasn’t a very good talker.
Thankfully, Ashley was open to picking up the slack. “What did you, um, study in college? Assuming you…?” she asked him, hesitant.
“I didn’t,” Leon said. “I studied at a police academy to become a cop, when I was your age.” And that turned out just great, didn’t it?
Her eyebrows raised in surprise. “A cop, huh? You sure climbed up the ranks fast.”
“Something like that,” Leon huffed. While he was glad to get Ashley talking again, he’d rather avoid the topic being about himself this time.
The girl smirked at his refusal to elaborate, used to it by now. “Well, you must’ve been a pretty good cop, then.”
Leon hummed and looked away. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he was only a cop for a single day, and he had ended a lot more lives than he saved.
Sticks and leaves crunched beneath their boots filled the pause in conversation as they continued forward. A few moments later, Leon heard a hesitant inhale from his side.
“…I’m in a history class, and it’s pretty cool, I guess…” Ashley said shyly. “I don’t know if I wanna do history as a career, but the content is interesting at least.”
“Interesting, huh?” Leon pushed. Finally, a topic without baggage. “What kind of history do you learn?”
Ashley hummed, some light returning to her eyes. “This is a bit ironic, but… our last exam was about the Raccoon City Incident.”
The words hit Leon like instant karma. He schooled his face on instinct, and didn’t offer a response.
Ashley continued anyway, interpreting his silence as a listening ear. “I can’t believe it’s only been six years since that happened… feels like it’d be like one of those historical tragedies from centuries ago, you know?”
A sense of unease was rising in Leon’s blood, his hand twitching toward his gun on reflex. The pit in his chest yawned. This had been a bad idea. Why did he try to talk at all?
Ashley paid no mind to his internal struggle, lost in the distraction of her own copeful musings. “—I mean, we're only dealing with a village of freaks, right? Can you imagine, like, a whole city of infected people? Tens of thousands?”
Yes, he could. Parents, children, peers, relatives, coworkers. All of them—gone mad with a manufactured virus, compelled to eat each other like animals, alive or dead. Leon didn’t have to imagine. He had been there, and he’s been trying to forget that fact for six years now.
“Yeah, we should be grateful,” the agent heard himself say.
“I was old enough to remember hearing about it on the news when it happened, but my class really dug deep into the details. We learned about how there were only a handful of survivors. Just a few dozen, I think. I can’t imagine—“
“Ashley,” Leon said hoarsely. He cleared his throat. “Let’s focus on getting out of here, okay?” His jaw started to ache, which led to the realization that he had been clenching it. He moved his hand away from his gun holster and rested the palm against his left shoulder, giving himself a grounding squeeze while rolling the joint. In return, it gave a phantom pulse of soreness. “We’re not going to end up like them. I won’t let us.”
His heart rate was picking up inside his chest, the thundering organ starting to drown out the ambient noise of the woods. His chest squirmed uncomfortably as a piercing ring grew inside his ears. He shook his head, trying to pull himself together—now was really not the time to have a moment like this.
She must have sensed the tension pouring from him, because her tone quickly softened. “Wait… did you know someone who…?” She questioned, almost to herself. Her eyes went wide in horror. “Oh shit. You work in counter-bioterrorism, right? You probably... Oh, my God. I’m such an idiot, sorry, I didn’t mean—“
Leon let out a shuddering exhale. “It’s okay. We just need to focus on getting out of here,” he commanded, mostly to himself.
Getting out of here. We need to get out of here.
The girl said something in response, likely more apologies, but Leon focused his energy on walking forward, urging his sore muscles into a march that was almost robotic. “It’s okay. Let’s just move.”
We need to get out of here. There’s no one left. We need to get out.
The woods seemed to swallow Leon whole. Endless trees stretched and spun in the peripherals of his vision. Ahead, the dirt path was the only thing that remained. If they both just kept moving forward, they would be okay. It’s what Leon had told himself back at Raccoon, and he managed to survive then. This was the same thing. They were still alive, so they just had to keep moving.
A concerned feminine voice met his ears. “…Leon?”
Leon.
He couldn’t think straight, Ashley’s voice multiplying and swirling in his head, noises overlapping each other like layers of fluid that poured deep into his ears, falling down, down, and mixing together in the pit of his gut. His clothes and skin felt tight against his muscles, which burned and ached with the urge to sprint while he still could.
I’m giving you an order, Rookie! You save yourself first!
Leon.
You’re a cop… you’re supposed to know something—!
Leon!
“I can do this,” Leon said between labored breaths. The words were surprisingly hard to get out, which was strange, because he didn’t mean to say them out loud.
He could see it in his mind, turning corners and shuffling down dark, twisting hallways. Keeping his ears open for groans and hissing breaths, praying that he still had enough ammunition to make it to the next undiscovered room.
“Leon? Leon! There's a—“
An iron grip snared his right calf and squeezed tight, tearing a pained yell out of his throat.
He tried to drag his leg away but the grip only clawed him harder, pulling him, breaking skin. Leon pulled out his combat knife on instinct, the one given to him by his Lieutenant, and readied himself to plunge it into the zombie’s throat before it could bite his leg.
“Leon!”
Another zombie went for his knife-wielding arm, tugging on it with a weak grip. He could feel its breath on his forearm as it groaned in hunger, rancid breath wafting into his nostrils as the living corpse tugged urgently to lead his exhausted flesh into its awaiting jaw.
Leon swiveled and shoved the zombie off his arm, knocking it to the ground with a yell. He was trying to remember his training from the academy, but his movements were panicked and instinctual. He couldn’t slow himself down to think his actions through, his body and brain filled only with the goal of survival.
The monster at his feet refused to release him, no matter how much he tried to back away or shake off its desperate hold. Its nails still pierced deep inside his skin, a cold burn that urged him to flail desperately. Leon’s balance finally faltered as he fell backwards onto the dirt, air forced from his desperate lungs.
The bloody leather of his gloves creaked from the strain as he held his knife in a shaking grip.
He just wanted to help people.
“Leon? Leon! There's a—“
Ashley could only watch as Leon put the full weight of his right boot on the bear trap, his calf instantly ensnared by the cold steel teeth.
“Leon!” she cried.
Ashley felt her lips and jaw tighten into a cringe at the way Leon’s knees nearly buckled. The yell that came from his mouth was hoarse and guttural, the loudest noise she’s ever heard him make.
Then, instead of using his strength to open the trap and free himself, Leon scrambled backwards with an animalistic snarl, shaking his leg with desperate ferocity as if trying to kick it off. The trap’s weight fought against Leon’s efforts, dragging against the dirt with a painful-sounding scrape.
Leon pulled his combat knife from its sheath. His eyes were empty when he glared at the trap, as if seeing something else. The blade raised in a trembling fist.
Ashley’s mind went white with panic, completely lost at what to do. She ran up to him without a thought, grabbing and pulling his arm. He hardly budged under her efforts.
“Stop! It’s just another trap!” she yelled, frantic.
Leon turned toward her, and Ashley’s breath caught in her throat. His blue eyes burned—it wasn’t the cold, calculated look that Leon gave the infected villagers before effortlessly sinking a bullet into their heads. No, this was something much stronger, raw, threatened. Like a cornered animal.
In that moment, Ashley realized how big Leon was, his muscled frame towering over her in a way that turned her blood into ice. She never once considered what it would be like to be on the other side of her designated protector—to be considered a threat to Leon. She didn’t get the time to flinch.
Leon shoved her, hard.
Ashley’s arms flew backwards to break the fall, the skin of her palms burning as they both scraped against the dirt and rocks. A pained noise left her throat as the ground punched the air from her lungs. The hot sting of weeping scrapes could be felt on her hands, a deep, growing ache already crawling up her wrists and tailbone from the impact.
She heard the dragging of metal against dirt. Then, another thud. Ashley opened her eyes, unaware of when she had even closed them. A few feet away, Leon had fallen onto his rear, heaving quick, full breaths that wheezed slightly. The agent’s face was hidden behind curtains of dirty-blond locks.
Fear and worry swirled in Ashley’s gut, cold. “…Leon?” she whispered.
His lips twitched as gasping breaths poured from his mouth. After a few moments, the air switched course, coming out in slow, pressurized bursts from his nose. Leon’s eyes suddenly sharpened, as if he just woke out of a daze. Pinprick pupils darted frantically, bouncing from the knife in his hand, to Ashley’s crumpled form, and then finally his own collapsed body.
His face hardened, and the agent then slid the knife back into its sheath with gentle care, as if it were an explosive that could detonate at any moment, before burying his face in his palms. A moment later, a deeper, shuddering exhale could be heard from between his fingers. The apple of his throat bobbed with a swallow.
“Ashley,” Leon said with an uneven tone.
Ashley opened her mouth, words caught in her throat. What happened? What did you see? Are you okay? Are we okay? Are we safe?
“…I’m here,” she settled on. It came out quicker than intended.
The man removed his hands from his face, but remained silent. Ashley watched his movements. They were careful and slow—choreographed. Gloved digits trembled almost imperceptibly as they inched toward the trap’s jaws, which were closed just below his knee. A low grunt left the man’s throat, arms tensing as they pried open the steel maw, giving barely enough space to remove his limb. As soon as he was freed, the agent let the trap close with a thick clang. The tips of the teeth glistened with red.
Ashley didn’t move, just watching him with concern.
Leon slowly pushed himself onto his boots, favoring his left leg. A suppressed hiss escaped his teeth. Then, he walked up to her fallen form, before gently squatting in front of her, just above eye level.
“I’m sorry you had to see that. Are you okay?” His voice was soft.
Ashley stared at his face. He looked… normal? A little too normal for whatever just happened. It was unsettling.
His brow furrowed with concern, and she realized she hadn't answered his question. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine!” she said, hurried.
His eyes scanned her, lingering on the way she had called backward in the dirt. She felt the agent’s attention focused on her arms, which were still supporting her from behind, when they stopped her fall.
“Let me see your hands,” Leon ordered softly.
Hesitant, Ashley adjusted to sit herself on her knees with a quiet grunt, and then offered her palms. A few beads of blood poked through the dirty and scratched skin—she could feel Leon staring at them, expression unreadable.
“I hurt you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
Ashley’s heart sunk at his admission. She didn’t think of it that way at all. Leon had acted on instinct in a moment of fear, which had definitely been her fault, yet kept damage at a minimum. He didn’t even use his knife.
Oblivious to her thoughts, he lightly touched her wrists, guiding them in a circular movement. The joints buzzed uncomfortably, but no sharp discomfort. “Doesn’t seem broken,” Leon mumbled to himself. “Any pain?”
She shook her head.
It was genuinely nothing serious. Ashley considered herself lucky—a few bloody scrapes was nothing worrying nor new. However, Leon looked at her scrapes like they were an utter tragedy. While his face was neutral, Ashley could see the way his eyes were haunted with guilt.
“I’ll get this cleaned up for you,” the man said as he pulled some sort of packaged medical wipe from a pouch on his belt, unwrapping it. His hand slid to cradle the underside of her own, a gloved palm cushioning her knuckles while he used the other to hold the sanitary wipe. “This is going to sting a bit,” Leon warned, before applying the wipe to her scratched skin. The movements were clinical, yet laced with apology.
She felt the cold antiseptic wipe against her palms, before the sensation quickly bloomed into a hot burn. Ashley cringed as Leon rubbed the wipe further into the cuts, removing dirt and bacteria with practiced precision. She couldn’t hold back a slight hiss, which prompted Leon to lightly squeeze her knuckles and murmur another apology.
After her hands were wiped clean, Leon took out a vial of crushed green herb, and poured some of the contents onto her still-outstretched hands. A few leafy crumbles fell out, soft and oily against her skin. Leon then used his thumbs to carefully rub and spread the medicinal herb over her scrapes, a numbing coolness spreading as he did so. She noted the way his hands weren’t steady—they trembled ever so slightly.
While the agent focused on tending to her minor wounds, Ashley couldn’t help but stare at him.
In the several hours that she had known Leon, he seemed nearly untouchable—physically and mentally. The only emotion that ever emanated from the man was a quiet, professional sense of urgency, along with a general air of tired exasperation. It comforted Ashley, the way he handled their situation as if it were just a boring day of work, but it also made a sadness bloom in her chest. Leon didn’t seem like a happy person, and Ashley wondered if he ever was.
As Ashley felt her heartbeat slow down, the situation replayed in her mind. Leon had panicked. That man never panics. If he ever did, then hiding it must be another professional skill in his arsenal—a thought that almost felt worse. A torrent of questions and realizations began to swirl like a whirlpool in her head, the emotion causing her eyes to burn.
Leon was still a person, one who was dragged into this nightmare because of her. He was scared—just like her. But, the man was trained to hide that fear, to make her feel safe.
How many scenarios like this has he been in? How many times did it take for him to learn how to hide it all?
A wave of guilt surged into her core as her thoughts raced. “Leon, I—I’m sorry,” she blurted quietly, before she could stop herself. “I’m so sorry—”
“Hey.” Leon’s eyes flickered. She could feel another apologetic swipe of his thumb against her palm, her cuts almost unnoticeable now. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Ashley. I just… got startled. It won’t happen again.”
“No! No,” Ashley accidentally yelled, taking Leon by surprise. The urge to apologize bubbled up again, but she pushed it down. He didn’t understand. She wasn't just sorry about digging up old wounds and getting him hurt—she was sorry for everything. Sorry for him.
Because here he was, squatting down in front of her, holding her hands in support, when he was the one who got hurt.
Leon could probably see the blizzard of thoughts in her misty eyes, yet he didn’t pry. Instead, he kept his comforting touch on her hands, patiently waiting. Listening, like his life depended on it. She wondered how many times it actually has.
“You’re just—” The words burned like swallowed glass, still indecisive about coming out of her throat. “You’re just trying to help, you’re always trying to help, but you’re hurting here too, and I’m so sorry, Leon—“
Her throat closed, swollen and painful. Ashley squeezed her eyes shut, and felt a wet warmth trail down her cheek.
“Ashley…” Leon whispered. His warm blue eyes were crinkled with soft concern. His mouth opened, and then closed. He let his eyes fall shut for a moment, a slow exhale escaping his nostrils, before sliding his hands to gently grip her wrists.
Ashley mirrored his grip as he used his strength to gently pull her back up into a standing position. Leon didn’t let go right away. Instead, he kept her hands in a firm hold, and looked down into her eyes.
“Listen, Ashley. Nothing is your fault. You don’t have a single thing to apologize for. Do you understand?”
Ashley felt her throat get tight once again. Half-formed thoughts tumbled out of her mouth. “But I’m the whole reason you’re in the mess—” saying it aloud nearly tore a sob from her throat, “—you shouldn’t have to be here, not after what you’ve probably already gone through, and just because I’m the President’s daughter—”
“—You shouldn’t have to go through this either, Ashley,” Leon said. “But right now, all we can do is move forward and get out of this. Together,” he shook her wrists with gentle emphasis, “—as a team.”
Leon’s blue irises were filled with conviction as he stared at Ashley. She knew that the agent wasn’t just saying those words for her, he was saying it for the both of them. She knew, because the words that were rich with trust caused the agonizing tightness in her chest and throat to slowly loosen.
As a team…
It was Leon’s way of expressing that he understood that they were each going through their own separate yet intertwined layers of trauma and guilt, even the ones she couldn’t properly form into words. There were still so many things she could say, wanted to say, but she could recognize that now wasn’t the time.
“We have to keep moving forward,” she whispered partly to herself, repeating the words she’s heard him say so many times.
His lips pressed into the smallest smile. “You learn quick, Baby Eagle.”
Despite herself, the stupid codename got a light, wet giggle out of her, and Leon looked a little too accomplished about it.
“C’mon. We’ve been here long enough,” the agent continued, finally releasing her hands as he smirked. She mourned the loss of the contact.
“Wait,” Ashley blurted.
Leon paused.
“Your leg?” She remembered aloud, glancing down. Although his pants were black, there were darker spots around his upper calf, surrounding small holes in the fabric that showed tiny glimpses of his bloody skin beneath.
He followed her line of sight and shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”
Any other time, Ashley would have let it go, trusting him more than herself—but the past five minutes weighed heavy on her shoulders, tugging her lips into a complicated frown.
Leon seemed to sense her apprehension. “...but I’ll take care of it real quick,” he added, looking around and spotting a tree stump nearby. He walked over to sit on it, rolling up his pant leg.
She gave a stiff nod. “Good. Otherwise, I would have, uh,” Ashley verbally stumbled, “…done it myself.”
“You’re a medic now?” the agent huffed with amusement as he dug through the gear on his belt.
“Only if you leave me no choice,” Ashley promised. She really just wanted him to look after himself with the same care as he did for her—and using Leon’s professionalism against him seemed like the best bet.
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Leon hummed.
Whether or not he was aware of her strategy was impossible to tell. He was preoccupied with his wound, performing the same routine he did on Ashley’s hands. It was hardly a minute before the wound was cleaned, salved with herbs, and wrapped.
His movements are a lot quicker when they aren't weighed down with guilt, she thought.
“Ready to hit the road?” Leon asked her, rolling his pant leg back down and pushing himself to his feet. His face gave no reaction to the movement, no wince or flinch of pain to be seen.
Ashley nodded, satisfied.
He made a quiet, amused noise in response, and they started walking nearly-side-by-side again.
“...Hey, Leon?” Ashley said hesitantly.
He hummed.
“I’m grateful you’re here,” she admitted. “And… thank you.”
She expected him to quip, but he was thoughtfully silent for a moment.
“I’m just happy to help,” Leon replied gently.