mychoombatheroomba

[mychoombatheroomba]

I'd Be Home With You (Krauser x GN! Reader)

You fought each other and both lost. It's not the ending you would have chosen, but it's one you're at peace with.

Word count: 982

CW: major character death, angst

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Never let it be said that life didn’t have a sense of humor. A bad one, maybe. A taste for irony in the bitterest sense of the word, but a sense of humor, nonetheless. 

You wondered if Jack remembered saying those words to you, years and years ago. You’d cracked some stupid joke, and the Major had rolled his eyes. Smiled. Spoke those words with an affection that had given you pause. You remembered that moment because it was when you knew that loyalty wasn’t the full extent of what you felt for the man. There was something else. Something more. 

You remembered that moment now, because it seemed so impossibly far away. It was a time you would give anything to go back to. 

You’re gonna be the death of me.

He wasn’t smiling now. There had been fury in his eyes as you’d fought. Fury and hatred and desperation. A madness you couldn’t name or recognize. It all faded now, as the realization set in. As the cold metal sank home, into his chest, just like he’d taught. Just like that, a passing joke was turned into something heavier. Inescapable. As your knife finally stopped at the hilt, you thought of those words. The death of me. 

The price of that death settled heavily in your gut, flesh and bone that was twisted and mangled and sharp enough to punch clean through you. Enough to make blood bubble up in your throat and spill down your chin with a cough. 

Krauser’s eyes, even fading, widened at the sight. Then washed over him a look of understanding. Acceptance. 

Equal exchange. A life for a life. 

His for yours. Yours for his. 

“Thought I . . . taught you better . . .” he managed, still standing somehow, the both of you leaning on each other to stay up. It was a house of cards, you knew, because the stone and earth beneath you was calling. Beckoning the two of you to, after such a battle, after so much hurt, to rest. You hadn’t wanted to do this. You’d tried - really tried - to make him see reason. To call back the man you knew. In the end, though, he’d forced your hand. Your mission, your orders, all of it pointed towards this moment. 

You should have had the strength to survive it. Krauser was right, he’d trained you better. He’d given you the tools you needed to fight and to live. He’d given you strength, a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen. Major. Friend. Confidant. Partner. Enemy. Jack Krauser had been so many things to you, and now, he would be one more. 

He would be the last person you ever saw, and you the final soul to see him. At that moment, you couldn’t imagine it ending any other way. Falling on each other’s blades. You were sure you’d seen that film or read that tragedy. 

Now, though, even with the taste of ruin in your mouth, you just laughed. Even if it was a dying thing. “Taught me . . . everything I needed,” you said, gritting your teeth through the pain. Staggering a little as your legs started to give. You wouldn’t have to live in a world where you killed the man you cared for most, now. That knowledge, that weight, would be picked clean by whatever carrion birds would circle you by morning. There was peace in that. 

Peace enough that, as the two of you sank to your knees together, your blades still locked in each other’s flesh, you smiled. “Had you on the ropes.” 

Krauser’s head lolled forward a bit, the warpaint on his face doing nothing to hide the curl of his scarred lips. His gaze was unsteady, but he still tried to look you in the eyes as he spoke. “Look where it got you.” There was no venom in his words. No malice. No anger. Just him, however weak. The man you knew, once, who’d saved you just as you’d saved him. So many missions, bruises and cuts and broken bones . . . 

“Glad it’s over,” you said with another cough, admitting what had been burrowing into you for years. Freeing what you’d kept to yourself. 

You supposed you could have mourned what might have been. Even as you looked into his eyes, though, even as you imagined being so close under better circumstances . . . 

No. This would do. 

Because no matter what could have been, no matter how things might have ended up, you felt a little lighter as Jack huffed one of his final breaths. “Glad it’s you.” 

You should have heard those words under different circumstances, but this was alright too. As the world started to blur, it was enough to know that, even with all the fury that had built between the two of you, even with all the wounds you’d dealt and been dealt, it didn’t matter. That whatever he felt, beneath it all, there was care. Whatever name it took didn’t matter as you felt yourself teetering. As you nodded - or maybe it was just the world around you dipping and dancing. Either way, you knew your forehead rested against his for a moment as death reached for the two of you.

“Feeling’s mutual . . . Major.” 

Your grip on the knife was growing weaker. 

His eyelids looked like they were being weighed down. 

“Knew . . . heh . . .” he shook his head, “knew you were gonna be the death of me.” 

You couldn’t quite manage a laugh this time as you both fell. Even so, as your vision ebbed, as you felt your blood seeping out of your body, you weren't afraid.

Jack went before you did, the blade in his chest cutting the thread of your story together. Good, bad . . . none of it mattered. Wherever he went, you knew you wouldn't be far behind.

That was an ending you could live with.

A/N: The seasonal depression and Hozier are responsible for this ("In A Week" specifically)

[mychoombatheroomba]

[mychoombatheroomba]

[mychoombatheroomba]

Just in case, since today was a fuckin' rough day in America:

If you're queer, if you're a person of color, if you're concerned about your autonomy, your rights or your future in the next four years and beyond, this blog is a safe space. I know that doesn't mean much, but I hope it means something.

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Monsters

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 56

You and Leon are sent on your first mission, and must embrace a hard truth; it isn't just bioweapons that you'll be fighting.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (Coming Soon!)

Chapter Index

TW for military operations, death, guilt and one could make a case for war crimes (or at the very least killing soldiers who are not actively in combat).

Take care of yourselves lads, don't read if you think it'd bother you!

It should be snowing. That would be poetic, wouldn’t it? It would complete the violent nursery rhyme in your head, the one about soldiers and monsters and bloody justice. That was always how those ended up, wasn’t it? Darker than they should be. Maybe there was something to that, if this was what the world was turning out to be; draped in pitch and blood-soaked clothes. 

It certainly looked that way from the deck of this ship - the cold biting deep into your bones. A debriefing, a plane ride, and now, here you were. Being smuggled close to Russian waters on a Norwegian fishing ship wasn’t how you imagined this mission starting, but you were agents now. It wouldn’t be the last time you found a back door into a country, heading towards a destination you couldn’t see in the night. Even the stars were blocked out by clouds, leaving no light but those on the ship.

Funny how even going in blind, you felt like your vision was clear for the first time. 

That came with its own drawbacks, of course. You knew your target, you knew your goal . . . and you knew that there would be a cost to this all. Blood for blood. Whose blood would it be? Yours?

Dina’s? Valeria’s? Leon’s? 

Leon. 

What would happen if he died tonight? What would that do to you? You couldn’t stop the scenario from playing in your head, over and over and over again. Your mind conjured up images of him with bullet holes and knife wounds, torn or blown apart . . .

You would do anything to prevent that. Give anything. 

That was the problem, wasn’t it? Because if you didn’t accomplish this task - if you didn’t prove to Simmons that you were someone who could do this . . . 

“Aren’t you cold?” 

You had to close your eyes as you heard the voice. The one voice you’d both craved and dreaded these last few days. 

Of course he’d come looking for you. He always would. Another problem to add to the collection, however sweet it was. 

“I’m fine,” you said flatly, because admitting anything else would just make the truth more inescapable. 

Truth that Leon knew, without needing to be told. 

“You’re not.” 

There was pain in his voice. So much pain it was almost enough to drown you. To make your lungs burn because you couldn’t breathe. You didn’t dare to look back at the man you loved. He, of course, made that all the more difficult by taking strides to your side. 

“You’re not fine.” 

You could feel his gaze on you, his warmth so close against the cold. So close. 

Too close- 

“You have a fucking handprint on your neck,” he went on when you said nothing. “You’re not fine.” 

How could you tell him what happened? That the man who did this to you was the one who’d given you the intel you were acting on now? It would only worry Leon more. You just couldn’t decide if your silence was worse in this moment. 

“What happened?”

“What do you want me to say, Leon?” you asked in your still-rasping tone, shaking your head. Hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your voice strained with more than just the constriction your neck had suffered. 

Stupid to hope for such a thing, when you all but felt him wince at the sound of it. 

“I want us to talk,” he answered. “I want us to talk about things, like we promised we would.”

“We’re on our way to an Umbrella facility-” you finally turned to him, fog escaping your lips as you spoke. “We have bigger things to worry about than our feelings.” 

You’d offended him, you could see it in his eyes. You were picking at a wound that you yourself had carved into him these last few days. “You think I don’t know that?” His voice wasn’t soft, like it usually was with you. He was frustrated. Angry. And he had a right to be. Even so, he didn’t reach for you. Didn’t push in on your space. “I know exactly where we’re going. Same as you. And I’m worried, alright?” He sounded defeated, then. More than you had ever imagined he might. “I’m worried about you, and not just because of where we’re headed.” 

Worried that you were never coming back to him? Or that you had little regard for your own safety right now? That you might do something foolish if it meant the success of this mission? 

They were all valid worries - if he could afford to have them. 

Leon cared too much. For you, for everyone. That was one of the reasons you’d grown to love him. You longed - ached - to have him in your arms, to hold onto something and let the world fade away. Even to just hold his hand. To remind yourself that he was alive and so were you. 

And you wouldn’t allow yourself even that much, because in a few hours it could be ripped away. 

“Don’t focus on me,” you shook your head, trying not to be affected by the sight of Leon now, his face falling as he realized he was losing. “Focus on the mission.” You stepped closer, your gaze harsh and unmoving from his own. “You want to talk? You stay alive. You make it through this.” Because you couldn’t even think about the alternative. 

Even if you knew you were foolish for it. Even if you were doing the equivalent of closing your eyes as you saw headlights coming your way. 

As if ignoring what was to come would make the pain easier to manage. 

“That means you have to make it, too,” Leon said after a moment, his gaze just as unwavering as your own. His hand almost reached for yours, but it looked like he held himself back. Instead, his jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “I’ll only ever give you this one order from here on out, and this is it: you have to stay alive.” 

How strange it was to hear those words coming from his lips now. 

As if you were the one who needed that order. 

He was the one who would throw himself into the fire every single time. Leon S. Kennedy was the man who would die if it meant saving only one person, you knew it in your bones. 

And you? 

For whatever reason, whether punishment or some divine joke you weren’t privy to . . . you just couldn’t seem to die. 

“I’m not dying,” you told Leon, feeling like something sharp was clawing its way out of your throat. “Not until Reed and every last one of them is in the ground.” 

And there it was. Even in the night, even with only the shitty deck lights to see by, it was clear as day to you. You’d seen it from him in the hallway at the CIA compound, and you’d seen it when you blew a hole through your friend’s head. 

Fear. 

Of you? Or for you? 

Didn’t matter, because it was gone in a moment. “We’ll get him.” You hadn’t heard him angry many times before. Not like this. “I promise you. We’ll get him.” 

You would. You knew in your heart that this ended with Reed in the ground.

It was just a question of what it would take to make that a reality. 

“Hey-” Williams’ voice sounded across the deck, battling against the churning of the sea. She appeared from beneath the deck, strapped in the same tactical gear that you and Leon both wore, all dark shapes and lethal promise. A plate carrier strapped to her chest, a rifle, side arm, helmet, and a pack you knew was full of charges. And, of course, a knife, hooked to her belt. “We’re close.” 

No more time for regrets, or fears. The path ahead was all that mattered. A path that led straight into the darkness you’d just been staring into, for you and Leon both. And as you passed Leon, a thought occurred to you. One that stopped you, made you turn to face the man you loved. The man who loved you. 

One more hurt to deliver to him. Another bruising lesson. 

“There will be people there, you know,” you said, your voice hollow. Flat, because you needed him to understand. “We’ll be fighting people.” 

Killing them. 

Leon had faced monsters. He’d brought second deaths to the undead, and he’d ended things that never should have existed in the first place. He’d never killed a person before. Not a living, breathing, unmarred person, and not out of mercy to keep them human in their final moments. 

You could see, now, as you looked back at him, that he had thought of that exact fact too. That he’d worried over this. 

That you were forcing him to confront it now. 

“I know,” he said, and you couldn’t place the emotion that colored the words. You wondered if even Leon knew what he felt. 

All you knew was that, for a moment, however brief, you saw that bruised cadet you’d glimpsed from across the tables. You’d been compelled to help him that day, even if you were the cause of his pain. You were compelled to do the same now. You just hoped it would mean something. 

So, you gave him one last piece of advice - the same one you were clinging to, that drove you on despite it all: “They’re monsters too.” 

You weren’t sure he believed you. 

You weren’t sure you believed yourself.

And you weren’t sure it mattered.

⧫⧫⧫

You all took a smaller boat to shore; one with a quiet engine and just enough space. The five of you had loaded on and split off from the ship that brought you to the edge of Russian waters, to be rendezvoused with once the mission was complete. Leon tried to steady himself on the long journey, trying to trust Hellman as the agent guided them in the dark. Trying not to think about being swallowed up by the icy waters around them. Instead, he turned his attention to the task before them.

It was simple, in theory: apprehend Reed if he was there, neutralize resistance and retrieve any useful information. 

Once the island came into view, though, once he spotted the distant searchlights of the Umbrella compound, Leon could only think about your warning. About how it would be people he was facing. 

It didn’t snow, but by the time you were boots on the ground, it had started to rain. It felt like it turned to ice as it hit Leon’s body, even through the cold weather gear he wore. Freezing and biting and perfect to cover their approach. A stroke of luck. 

As if any of this was lucky.

The boat was left far enough away from the facility, Leon hoped; hauled ashore and hidden as well as it could be amidst the rocks. Helmets with night-vision goggles that could be swung down over their eyes allowed them to see in the pitch black of night, showing the bleak terrain that they crossed as they moved forward. 

“All Shadows, on me.” 

Shadows. Fitting callsigns for the group moving like wraiths across the darkened plain. Who stayed low as the perimeter fence came into view. Any doubt of whether there were soldiers housed inside was erased when Leon spotted the Umbrella logo emblazoned in red and white at the gate. 

Hellman watched for a while through binoculars, then gave orders over the roar of the rain. Guard towers first, then perimeter guard, then they would move in. 

Leon had often wondered how the men who’d destroyed your base, the men who’d offered safety and alliance only to betray you, could live with themselves. Now, he wondered how he would manage it, when he put that first soldier between the sights of his rifle. AK-74M, Russian made, so any investigation of ballistics would stave blame off the States. Mid-range, equipped with a suppressor that would only be made more effective by the rain pummeling the earth. The weapon was twin to the one Valeria held at the ready beside him, her sights on the guard beside the one Leon focused on. Two more of the same guns were in the field, hidden from his vision.

He knew that you were just on the other side of the base, you and Dina. You were hidden in the shadows, just like Leon was, with a soldier in your sights. A person. 

“You have your targets?” Hellman. His voice came through the earpiece that Leon wore - that they all wore. The agent was on overwatch, keeping an eye from a distance, covering them all with a rifle, should things go poorly. He asked his question as if it was normal. As if this wasn’t going to be sudden death for four people. 

The man through the scope was a soldier, that much was obvious. He held a gun, his body encased in gear. His face was uncovered, clear in the light of the guard tower he stood in. One that he leaned over the railing of, yawning in exhaustion. His fellow guard nudged him with a smile. This wasn’t the man in the gas mask you’d told him about, though he wore the red and white patch of Umbrella. 

They’re monsters. But Leon couldn’t see a monster, at that moment. He saw many things that conflicted with each other. 

A man simply doing his job.

A bastard who signed up to work for Umbrella. 

A soldier. A son. A human being. 

A target. 

A threat. Because if the others shot and Leon didn’t-

If this man could raise the alarm-

Would this man plead for his life, if he knew that Leon was about to end it? 

“Repeat: all Shadows, do you have the targets?”

“Affirmative,” Leon whispered his response into the comm with a voice that felt alien to him. He heard your own voice soon after, Dina and Valeria too. All ready. His finger was on the trigger, and the tension of it was like a plea. A last chance to stay his hand and hold his fire. 

He was going to kill someone, because they stood in his way. He was going to end a life-

“Take them.” 

A dampened crack of gunfire. The rifle kicked back against his shoulder, something he registered before he even realized he’d obeyed the order. The man through the scope made like he meant to move, and instead his head was knocked back. 

Oh god-

With a spray of red in the air, the body was down, his fellow soldier collapsing beside him. Valeria had made her shot, too. 

They’d both killed someone. 

Oh god-

He’d killed someone. 

He’d done it with such ease. 

Only the sound of the rain filled the cold air as Leon felt the horror sink into his bones. As he realized well and truly what he’d done. 

Still, there was no time to feel the bile rising in his throat. No time to register the first real and whole life he’d taken, because in a few moments Hellman was calling out another group of targets. The perimeter guard. More bullets. More bodies. 

Had it been this easy for the man who’d nearly killed you? When he and his men gunned down your friends? 

What did that make Leon, as he gunned down another man? Then another. And another. What did that make all of you, as at last the perimeter was breached, and Hellman joined the rest of you with his gun at the ready? So many days, Leon had spent at your side, with his friends, crawling under barbed wire while cracking jokes. Training at the range, cheering when someone hit all their shots. Slipping into the blind spots of cameras to steal kisses and touches from you. Finding moments to be human whilst training for something that had seemed distant. 

Now, it was here, and as Hellman cut a part of the wire fence to allow you all to slip inside, Leon felt like the world had been turned violently inside out. Because it wasn’t his friends that passed over the bodies of the people they killed without a second glance. It couldn’t be his love that wove between the cameras and destroyed them with pops of gunfire, heading towards what looked like the barracks. 

Leon had thought Krauser cruel all those months ago, during assessments. When he’d woken Leon and everyone else in his squad with tear gas. 

Now, he realized he was about to do something worse than cruel. 

There was movement inside, but only from one body. Someone was on fire watch. Dina reported that she could count a dozen or so other bodies, all asleep in their beds. 

Hellman tried the door once, then looked at you. 

You pulled a slender set of lockpicking pins from a pouch on your belt, the very same ones you’d practiced with for so many weeks in the infirmary. Meanwhile, the rest of them took up positions and avoided the windows. Leon felt the absence of relief when the lock clicked, and you lowered your arms. 

You nodded to Hellman, your mouth pressed into a thin line, and your hand stilled on the door knob. 

Your name slipped from Leon’s lips, and for just a moment you stopped. For a moment, there in the rain, you halted. 

A hand clamped over Leon’s shoulder. It was an order without words. An order for him to shut his mouth and let this happen. Hellman’s voice was steady against the rain. “Sergeant - now.” They had to do this. Leon knew that.  If these soldiers escaped the barracks, they could alert others you were here. They would fall, whether now or later, sleeping or waking. That was the mission, however wrong it was. 

And it was wrong. 

That didn’t stop you from opening the door, or Hellman gunning down the soldier on fire watch, then turning his gun on the rest. Unarmed and unawares, they never stood a chance. 

Defenseless. Unsuspecting. 

They shouted. Screamed. Some of them took cover. Leon was caught looking the wrong way in on a memory, only this time there was no tear gas. No lesson to be learned. A few of the soldiers tried to rush Hellman, or scrambled to escape.

It didn’t matter if they were Umbrella, or if they would make trouble if they were left alive. It didn’t make a goddamn difference, because this was wrong. 

They were monsters.

Leon was a monster. 

It had to be done. 

It had to be done. 

It had to be done. 

That was what he kept telling himself. What he hoped would help him justify this. These were mercenaries. They knew what they were signing up for. The evidence of that was written all around; in the Umbrella labeled gear they recovered, in the assault rifles the guards carried. In the armored vehicles in the motor pool. In the tank that sat alone in the rain. 

This was a military installation. The enemy’s base. A base that, in the dark of that storm, fell all too quickly. Easy to do, when the enemy was unprepared. When they didn’t see the bullet coming. 

Monsters.

That was the thought that settled in Leon’s gut as the last of the cameras was destroyed, and the final guard outside was given a bullet. 

It had been too easy. 

No alarm had been raised, no real opposition had found them. 

There was one building left. One structure left to clear. Hellman led the way, the rest of you filing in just the way you’d been taught. Sweeping the interior-

“What the fuck-”

Leon heard the voice as soon as he stepped in the door. Saw them step out from around the corner of a cargo container. Black gear, red and white symbol on their chest-

Go with your gut.

They raised their gun. It was aimed at you. 

Don’t think.

Hellman beat Leon to the shot, his own sidearm out and aimed in a flash. There was a gunshot, then a choking sound. A sputtering as the Umbrella soldier clutched at her neck. Shock. Anger. Horror. So much crossing that stranger’s face as they realized they were going to die. 

Leon could only blink as he realized that it could have been you. All because he hesitated. If Krauser were there-

There was shouting. Two voices. Two more guards. 

“We got hostiles!”

Leon didn’t hesitate, then. Couldn’t afford to as the gunfight broke out. The first real one he’d ever been in. 

Well, almost. 

He’d jumped in front of Ada to shield her from gunfire, once. Now, though, it wasn’t a shield that he felt like. Instead, as he moved around the cargo containers, he was a bullet. A blade. He flanked one of the shooters as Valeria took care of the other. Their only opponents were put down in a matter of seconds, left to lie in puddles of red on the concrete floor. 

Monsters killing monsters. 

Leon’s hands shook around his rifle. He could barely hear Hellman’s orders or his comrade’s voices as he looked down at the soldier he killed, numb. 

“Search for Reed. See if you can get a positive ID.” 

“I didn’t see him.” 

Empty eyes stared up at nothing. 

“Thought he was supposed to be here-”

Blood pooled under the body, slipping between the separate panels of concrete.

“We weren’t sure. Just knew this was a training facility-”

“A big one for not that many people-”

Blood that slipped between and disappeared, instead of running along the seams . . .

“There’s no officer’s barracks. Cameras but no security hub . . .”

Leon’s eyes caught on the lines, tracing along the gaps in the concrete. Seeing the scrapes and tire marks gouged into the floor. Like things had been dragged and driven on, but then . . . 

“Sir. Something’s here.” 

The rest of the group turned towards Leon as he spoke. With everyone’s goggles up, it was the first time since they arrived on Kolguyev that Leon could really see the faces of his friends. Your face. Dina and Valeria looked shaken but determined. They’d been soldiers before they were his friends, after all. You, though . . . Leon struggled to find you beneath the soldier that seemed to have taken control. 

“Where?” Hellman stepped forward, the older agent’s eyes discerning as he took in the scene before them. Once Leon pointed it out, there was little debate. “Umbrella loves their secrets. Look for a lever, a switch . . . anything, but do not touch it if you find it!” Hellman ordered, and the team set to work. Leon crouched down, searching the body at his feet with shock-shaken hands. He took the extra ammunition he found, but nothing else. Not the ID card that he didn’t have the heart to read. Maybe that made him a worse person, not wanting to put a name to the face of the person he’d killed. 

That didn’t matter right now. He had a task. Something to look for. 

Something to open up the floor. To reveal whatever lay below. 

Raccoon City had housed the birthplace of nightmares, a sickness just below the surface. What would they find here, if Leon was right? If there was some way beneath the earth hidden here? 

If this was a storage warehouse, then what was it they might store away from prying eyes? 

This had been easy. 

There were too few soldiers. 

Too little resistance. 

Something was wrong, and one look at you confirmed you felt the same. 

Your eyes met, vicious instinct traded in for wariness in your expression. 

“Something’s-” 

The sound of an alarm made Leon nearly jump free of his skin, his gun up and his eyes wide. Immediately, he swung the barrel towards the nearest door, his body moving in anticipation of further gunfire. 

Instead, he nearly lost his balance as the ground lurched beneath his feet. 

“Move!” Hellman ordered, but Leon was already running. Already hauling himself off the now-splitting sections of the concrete. The body of the soldier Leon had gunned down began to slip as the panel - a little over twenty feet long and half as wide - slipped down and then slid to the side. 

“I made myself clear, you weren’t to activate anything!” Hellmans’ voice was urgent now, the alarm and the rain outside battling to overpower his concerned tone. 

A ramp began to make itself clear beneath the opening segment of the floor, leading down.

“Wasn’t us, sir,” Valeria shook her head, her eyes trained down the barrel of her rifle, wide and ready. 

It hadn’t been you or Leon, either. Which meant-

“All Shadows, with me. Prepare to engage.” Hellman was quick to move, bringing the group around towards the side overlooking the deeper section of the ramp. Leon felt like some other force moved him there, kneeling at the edge of the now-opening abyss. They would be covered. They would have the high ground. Whoever would be headed their way, they would have a brief advantage over. 

Assuming it was a who and not a what. 

But as the screeching of metal stopped, as the alarm finally ceased, Leon could feel in his bones that there would be no such luck. Luck had abandoned him long ago. 

All he could do now was wait, trying to remember to breathe. To hold his weapon steady. To have his finger on the trigger. 

There was the sound of something moving down there. Leon could hear footsteps, heavy and drawing closer. 

Closer. 

Closer. 

He glanced to you, your presence at his side cold but reassuring. He hoped you remembered the promise you two made to each other on the deck of that ship, as a new sound hit his ears. 

A low, wet snarl, one that turned into a screeching roar. 

Stay alive. 

That was all Leon had time to wish for as a blur of green charged out. Claws like the blades of machetes ripped into the body lying still on the ramp beneath them. Crimson splattered as the scent of copper hit the air.

Hellman’s order to fire didn’t mean anything. 

The bullets of five assault rifles pierced the armor of the creature beneath them - and armor it certainly was. Chunks of that chitinous plate chipped off as Leon and the rest of you fired, until red sprayed into the air. Until the monster - that even Leon had seen only blurry images of before - screamed in agony. 

It didn’t mean anything, though, as from beneath, a second pair of claws came springing towards them, and the air was knocked clean from Leon’s lungs. 

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Chapter Index

Tag List: @greywardensaywhat @torchbearerkyle

A/N: Oh boy home stretch here we go!

SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING FOR TWO MONTHS (unless you're an icon and you're reading Disavowed too, in which case sorry for disappearing for one month).

The holidays were very busy for me and then I got home and everything was on fire. Luckily not my own place of living, feeling incredibly grateful for that! In any case, the Ao3 curse does seem to be alive and well and so does artistic burnout, but goddamn it we're gonna finish this story cause I WANNA WRITE RE4.

Wherever you are in the world, thank you for reading and for being patient, and please keep yourself as safe, happy and healthy as you can! I'll see you guys in the next chapter!

[mychoombatheroomba]

I found this old video I made in January 2024 thought you guys might enjoy it

[mychoombatheroomba]

Oh you know it's getting wild when you pull up the Geneva Conventions while writing to see if your characters are committing war crimes

[mychoombatheroomba]

May we present @mychoombatheroomba, the author of Between the Bones

[mychoombatheroomba]

Someone to Carry You

Disavowed (Krauser x GN! Reader/Krauser x Leon) - Chapter 6

1998

Krauser visits you in the hospital and reckons with a world that will never be the same again.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (Coming Soon!)

Chapter Index

TW for hospitals, PTSD and vague suicidal ideation

February 12th, 1998

18:43

Washington DC

He’d seen something he shouldn’t have seen. That much was very plain to Krauser in the weeks following his return from Dorne Base. He’d seen what he shouldn’t have – what he and the government both wished he hadn’t. 

The next week was full of questions and red tape. Above all, there was an order that he would speak not a word of what happened. Not him or any of his men. They’d pulled him from the mission he was supposed to run and kept him and the others grounded. It wasn’t the first time in his career he’d been told to keep quiet about something.

It wasn’t the first comrade’s funeral he’d had to attend, either. 

Captain Simon Reynolds. Buried with honor. Krauser had stood there, in the same dress uniform he’d worn the last time he’d seen his friend alive. He’d watched as Simon’s wife held back tears during the three-volley salute. As his family tried to look strong. There were dozens of empty caskets lowered into the ground that day. Dozens of soldiers who would not go home to their families, their bodies kept for study and security. “Unrecoverable” was the official story. So Krauser had received dozens upon dozens of dog tags that should have gone home to mothers, fathers, siblings and children. 

All but one, belonging to someone who wasn’t present at the funeral. 

Someone who, from what he’d heard, had woken up the day after your Captain was laid to rest. 

They wouldn’t let him see you - or let anyone see you, for that matter. Not based off what he was told. There were questions to answer first - questions that burned at the forefront of Krauser’s mind, too. 

He’d seen his share of bodies, but nothing like what he’d seen that day. Nothing like the twisted parody of a man lying in the ruins of the base, claws and teeth sprouting from dead flesh. That image flashed through his mind often. Almost as much as the image of his friend lying in the snow, dead and gone. 

That one always came with the memory of you, asking to be left behind. Asking Krauser to let you die. 

It was hard to reconcile that memory with his first impression of you. That didn’t get any easier when, after a week, they finally cleared his request to visit. 

A request he wasn’t even sure why he was making, if he was honest with himself. 

He had visited plenty of soldiers in the hospital before. If any of his men were ever injured in the line of duty, the Major made damn sure that he was there for them. To let them know that their sacrifice was recognized and appreciated. Only, you weren’t one of his men. He’d only met you twice, and yet, here he was, standing outside the door to your hospital room. 

The questions in his head were part of what led him there, he knew. He wanted to know what they were refusing to tell him, what had happened that could kill so many. What could possibly turn a human being into whatever it was he saw? He wanted to know who had set the charges that set the base on fire. He wanted to know who had executed the soldiers there and burned their bodies. He wanted to know why his friend had been torn apart by bullets, and why an empty gun had been at your side when he found you. 

All of those burning curiosities . . . and when he opened the hospital room door, the sight before was a bucket of water dumped over them. 

The last time he’d seen you, you quite literally had been on the verge of death. Now, weeks later, you didn’t look much better. 

Bruises and bandages, and dark violet circles under your closed eyes. You slept so still in that moment after he opened the door, Jack wondered if perhaps he’d been lied to - that you’d died after all. Only the droning of machines told him otherwise. 

You were a soldier. Getting hurt was always a risk, he knew that, and you had to have known too. Seeing you now, though, knowing only shrouded inferences of what you’d been through . . . it was enough to give him pause. Enough to shift his concern towards you, because you’d been so vibrant. So removed from the violence of this life. 

And now that violence had marked you, irreversibly and irrevocably. 

You hadn’t been at fault for whatever happened. If you had been, Krauser had no doubt that you would be locked away somewhere, away from everything and everyone. You weren’t the crux of his anger. You had lost someone, just as much as he had. More so, maybe. Reynolds had been a guiding ally for Krauser. He didn’t know who the Captain had been for you, really. He just knew the way Reynolds had looked at you that night, his eyes so full of pride. 

You meant something to Simon Reynolds. You meant something to his friend. That was what made Jack step fully into the room, towards the chair by the window. 

He only barely moved to sit before a sharp intake of breath stopped him dead in his tracks. 

You’d tried to sit up, but it looked like pain stopped you. Your face contorted into an expression of agony, your eyes snapping wide open. One hand grasped at your belly, at the stitches and bandages hidden beneath your hospital gown. The other clutched at the space around you for something. Anything. A weapon. As if there’d be anything to defend yourself with amidst the shitty bed sheets and shittier pillows the hospital provided. 

As if Krauser was a threat at all. 

Still, he knew damn well that it wasn’t him you were afraid of. So, he held up his hands in surrender. “Easy, Sergeant.” He wasn’t used to making his voice sound soothing. That was an aspect of his nature that didn’t come easy. Still, he tried. 

The dawning shock in your eyes made it hard to tell if it worked. 

Your voice at the bar all those weeks ago had been confident. Magnetically so. Now, Jack almost didn't recognize the broken sound of it. “Major Krauser,” you spoke after a moment, like you didn’t really believe what you were seeing. 

“Didn't mean to wake you,” the Major went on, a genuine apology in his tone. 

Your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, no doubt all your wounds would allow. Panic turned into a wary curiosity. And once that took hold, Krauser saw something else behind your eyes. Something that seemed to do everything in its power to keep your words from fleeing you. Still, you managed to shake your head, however small the motion was. “You didn’t.” 

Maybe you’d been a better liar before all of this. Right now, though, Krauser didn’t believe you for a second. Something to do with the way you averted your eyes - the way you kept glancing at him, like a wary and wounded animal. 

Like you didn’t want to meet his gaze. 

The Sergeant he’d met at that military ball, the one he’d wondered about for longer than he should have, was nowhere to be found now. But maybe you were in there, somewhere. 

He was no good at comfort. Some soldiers were, but he certainly wasn’t one of them. Still, he owed it to the Captain to try. “Mind if I sit?” Krauser asked, gesturing to the chair he’d been headed towards. 

You spared a half-glance at it, and even less of a nod for confirmation. 

It was enough. 

So, Krauser lowered himself into the old chair, the compression of the cushion the only noise to accompany the sound of the hospital machines. At least until the Major settled in enough to take you in. Then, after a moment: “What’s the prognosis?” His hand lifted, gesturing to the wound he knew lay hidden on your belly. The one he’d watched his medic reseal, after the mess of badly-cauterized flesh had ripped open. 

It was a wound you didn’t look at when he called attention to it. Hell, you didn’t even look at him as you answered. “I’ll heal.” 

“Fully?” 

A single nod was your response. No words, because Jack knew damn well that as much as the flesh may heal, the rest would never be the same. Still, you were alive. You’d fought, just like he told you to and now here you were. 

“Good. Wasn’t sure you were going to make it.” He’d seen lesser wounds kill more experienced men. Cold and steel and whatever else you’d faced, though, hadn’t been enough to kill you. He wasn’t sure how you’d survived it all, in truth. 

You wouldn’t have, if not for him. 

“You were there.” He wondered how much of the experience was still out of reach for you. If you remembered him carrying you vividly, the image made sharp from pain, or if you’d been so far gone it was little more than a dream to you. He supposed the latter was more likely. So, he nodded in an effort to bring clarity. 

However much the memory pitted out his stomach. 

“I was. They sent me and my team in when the base stopped checking in.”

“And you found me.” 

You and so much that Krauser couldn’t outrun, these last few days. He’d had the fortune to seldom struggle with sleep, even after all he’d seen. Still, he’d been more restless than usual as of late. 

He could only imagine what it was you saw when you closed your eyes. Perhaps that was why you didn’t sound happy that you had been found at all. 

Leave me. You’d made that request of him, the words embedding in his memory. You’d wanted to die, and he hadn’t let you. 

“Damn glad I did,” Jack nodded, watching you carefully, and speaking more carefully still. 

“And why are you here now?” The question was borne out of fear, Krauser could hear it. Fear and guilt shrink-wrapped together. 

The reason for that fear, he knew, was also the answer to your question. “Because Simon was my friend. And I want to know what happened to him.” 

Horror. Pure and utter horror poisoned your expression. 

That only made the pit in Krauser’s stomach deepen. He could retreat. He could insist that you didn’t need to tell him, to spare you reliving that memory. He could, but he wouldn’t. Instead, he waited for your answer, even as it tore at you. 

“I can’t say. They told me not to talk about it.”

Krauser had expected as much. He’d known that the order to keep quiet would have extended to you too. “Tell me what you can, then.” 

For days now, he’d waited. Wondered. Imagined every possible ending for his friend’s story - for the ending of an entire base full of good men and women. As you shook your head, then, he knew that you’d been reliving that end. Every second. Every moment since you woke up. He could hear it in your voice as, finally, your lips parted to deliver your answer. 

“He saved me,” you said simply. “And . . . and I couldn’t save him.” Your lip trembled, your head shaking against the pillow that supported it. Your fingers picked at your nail beds. He saw blood beading there as you spoke again. “None of them. I couldn’t-”

Krauser watched you clench your jaw so tight he thought you might break your teeth, your eyes shining under the harsh hospital lights. You refused to let the tears fall, though, cutting them and your own words off. You were still fighting. Now, it just wasn’t against your injuries or the cold or death as it tried to claim you. You were fighting yourself, he could see it. 

You’d failed to save someone who meant something to him. He should condemn you for that. Instead, Jack shook his head. 

“You did what you could.” He said it as if he’d been there. As if he’d seen you give your all to save your Captain, because he knew that you had. In your voice and in your wounds, he knew it. 

Even if it hadn’t been enough. 

Just as his words weren’t enough, now. 

All the poor comfort in the world wouldn’t change what you’d been through. What you’d survived. It made the next words you croaked out less than surprising. “You should have left me there.” 

Less than surprising, but no less enraging. 

“That’s not what he would have wanted, and you damn well know it.” 

A flicker of pain crossed your face, but you didn’t protest. So, Krauser went on, bracing his scarred forearms on his knees. 

“You mattered to him. I may not have seen much of him these last few years, but I could see that plain as day. So you don’t get to give up.” Because too many men and women lay dead for anything else. Too many families had buried empty caskets. You were the only survivor of something Krauser had never seen before. You were the only one who knew what it was that was out there, now. He wouldn’t let you waste away, or crumble inwards on yourself because he could feel the shifting of the world. He knew that whatever had twisted those corpses into monsters in Dorne Base wouldn’t just go away. He and his country needed to be ready. “You’re the only one who knows what we’re up against. The only one left who saw what happened-”

“I know-”

“You’re the best chance we have of bringing whoever did this down-”

“I know.”

“Then you have a duty to all of them, to everyone in that base to live.”

“I know!” you cried, baring your teeth in a grimace of pain. 

It was as he already knew - comfort was not something he was good at. Each word was a battering ram to you, he could see it. You lay on the bed with your eyes squeezed shut, like you were trying to block out him and the rest of the world. 

“I know.” Your words were weaker this time, broken by sobs. That sound brought about some regret in him, however small. 

So he gave you a moment. Just a brief moment as your fists trembled against the hospital bed. Your nostrils flared as you took in shuddering breaths. They no doubt tugged at broken bones and sutured flesh, enough that tiny sounds of pain escaped you as you grieved. As you mourned in the only way you could, in that moment.

Which pain was worse for you, he wondered? 

He’d caused it. At least in part. He’d pulled you from the snow, he’d kept you from death. He’d pushed you to look the aftermath in the face. 

And he would keep pushing you.

“So you live,” Jack went on, still firm but as soft as he could manage. “For him. For the rest of them. You honor your Captain by holding on to your life and living it.” 

It was another few moments, but slowly your breathing steadied. Your hands relaxed, your arms sinking into the bed at your sides. Your eyes remained closed, but you nodded. 

Good. 

“So what do you want to do with that life, Sergeant?” Krauser asked. 

Maybe you’d say you wanted him to leave. Maybe you’d say you wanted a stiff bourbon, or to live the rest of your days in peace. Maybe you’d say you wanted it all to end. Krauser prepared himself for any of those answers. 

You gave him another one altogether. 

“I want to kill them.” 

The Major looked at you with a pale brow raised, watching as you took a deep breath despite the pain it had to have caused. Or, maybe, because of it. He watched as you opened your eyes, red from crying, and stared up at the hospital ceiling like it had taken everything from you. But then, he doubted it was the ceiling that you were picturing in your mind’s eye. 

“I want to find the people who did this, and I want to end them.” 

There you were. Not the carefree soul who’d flirted with him at the bar, not the broken body he’d found in the snow. 

A soldier. A fighter, just like he’d thought you would be. 

“Then heal,” Krauser commanded, rising to his feet and moving forward. “Get your strength back.” He stopped at your bedside, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a little piece of metal, a name and serial number stamped into its face. It was twin to another tag - one that had remained with a body that Simon Reynolds’ family would never get to see. If they couldn’t have the tags because of a lie, as far as Krauser was concerned, there was only one person who deserved to hold the Captain’s memory. One person who would carry it and the debt that came with it. So, he placed the dog tag on the table by your bed, seeing a fresh wave of emotion wash over you as you read the name on it. “And when you’re ready, we’ll hunt these bastards down together.” 

You looked up at him, those reddened eyes searching his. “Why would you help me? You barely know me.” 

A fair question. One he answered with words he’d heard once, when he was younger. When he’d been bleeding and could barely stand, and one man had taken it upon himself to lift him up. “When you can’t run, you crawl. And when you can’t do that, you find someone to carry you.” 

When your eyes widened, Jack knew you’d heard those words before. He didn’t have to ask who from. 

“Good to know he was still spouting the same old lines after all these years,” Krauser mused with a bitter smile. 

You said nothing in return, but you didn’t need to. The spark was lit. You would survive this, Jack was sure of it. 

For the sake of his old friend, that was enough. 

Whatever you became because of it . . . that was up to you.

“I’ll come back with bourbon next time,” Jack said. “Made you a promise, didn’t I?”

And he was a man of his word.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (Coming Soon!)

Chapter Index

A/N:

Congratulations to you all for starting you anti-hero arcs! Or your downfall arcs, depending on how you look at it, I suppose. Next chapter (which hopefully won't take four months to write) will be back to Operation Javier! Because if Capcom won't give us the remake version of events then I continue to have free reign to do with it whatever I want 😁

And also they can pry my Firefly references from my cold, dead hands

[mychoombatheroomba]

A short comic I drew for Tango Down, a Chinese metaltango fanzine. I wanted to show my vision of the story of Leon and Krauser's relationship, mixing the original game, the remake and the chronicles. The result was a path from mistrust to forbidden passion, and then through alienation and hatred to posthumous reconciliation.

I made a sfw version for publication on some resources. Although the original comic is already quite restrained.

And how it looks in the book! Socond image by @19o4 <3

[mychoombatheroomba]

the two types of leon fans

[mychoombatheroomba]

More Arcane spoilers beneath the cut

So Mel Medarda is single again???

[mychoombatheroomba]

An Eye for An Eye

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 55

Leon and the squad grapple with the weight of their loss while you learn what you mysterious ally has given you.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

“You look like shit.”

Valeria had never been one to mince words. Whatever else had changed in the last week, that had remained the same. At least something had. 

Leon wasn’t sure he wanted the company. He had gone outside to escape the droning fluorescent lights and ever-present eyes inside the CIA facility. He’d gone out to be where his thoughts could have a quiet place to wage their war. His friends should have brought him comfort. 

He hated that they didn’t. 

“Don’t worry, I feel worse.” His response was dry as his friend leaned against the wall beside him, sliding down to sit at his level. She hummed what might have been a laugh, once. Now, the sound was muted. A gray tone where once there had been vibrant color. 

Leon could sympathize. 

“Good to know we’re all in the same boat.” Dina lowered herself onto the ground at Valeria’s side, the three of them looking out towards the dimming sky. 

The shorter of the two women scoffed, shaking her head. “Can’t fucking sleep. Every time I close my eyes, it’s just . . .” 

She didn’t need to say it. Leon knew. Maybe that was why they’d sought him out. Maybe they hoped he’d have some advice. Some secret to help them through it all. As if he hadn’t been cursed with this for months now. Just when he’d thought he might finally be free of it-

“You guys hear the official story?” 

Leon turned his head towards Dina, who looked up at the sky like she had a bone to pick with whoever was up there. He knew what she was talking about without having to ask. The base. How the Army would spin so many lives lost all at once. 

“They, uh . . . they’re saying it was a fire that got out of control. Someone smoking without authorization. Summer heat, dry brush . . . fwoosh .” She motioned with her hands, then let out an empty laugh. “Probably easier that way. Don’t have to send home any bodies if they’re all ash.”

A fire. The same excuse used for Dorne base. More lies. More deaths kept hidden. 

It was a bad joke.  

“You know, they put all this money into this,” Dina droned, shaking her head, “training us to fight monsters, teaching us to spy and shoot and whatever else. And then none of it fuckin’ matters.” 

“It’ll matter,” Leon shook his head, surprising himself. He sounded like you. Like you used to, before everything had crashed down around you all. He just wished he believed the words more. “It’s gotta mean something.” His life hadn’t been torn open and rearranged for no reason. You hadn’t been made to relive the worst night of your life for nothing. He had to believe that. 

“I don’t think any of this means anything,” Williams shook her head, digging her heels into the dirt and pushing her legs out in front of her. “I don’t think watching your friends kill each other has some greater purpose behind it.” 

“Dina,” Valeria spoke, her voice softer than Leon had ever heard it, “he wanted to go out on his own terms.” 

It didn’t matter how right she was, though. The words, the memory of you lowering that gun, of that look of nothingness in your eyes, and a pool of crimson framing Logan’s head . . .

“Shouldn’t have had to, though,” Dina shook her head. “He should be right here, telling us some stupid shit about tanks, or singing fuckin’ Journey.” 

The world blurred a bit, as tears stung at Leon’s eyes. He clenched his jaw tight. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t let it out, or he’d crumble. These last few days, he’d learned very quickly in the solitude of his room that once he started down that path, there wasn’t much that could stop it. 

None of this should have happened. Leon almost spoke it aloud with a bitter laugh, feeling his heart beating at a faster pace. His mind running in desperate circles, trying to escape the thoughts that nipped at its heels. None of this should be like this. 

All the wishing in the world wouldn’t change it, though. 

“But he isn’t.” That was all Leon could manage to say. 

Dina shook her head, her mouth pressed in a thin line. “But he isn’t.” 

Silence blanketed them for a few long seconds, before the covers were torn off again. 

“Sarge said anything about it?” 

The question was meant for Leon. Who else? He was the one you spoke to most, before. If you would have said anything, it would have been to him. Should have been to him. As it was . . .

“No.” He couldn’t decide if he wished you had or not. 

Dina didn’t look like she could decide, either. She bit at the inside of her mouth, shaking her head. “I know why it had to happen . . .” she said, nodding like she was trying to convince herself of it even now; that you putting a bullet in her friend’s head was the right thing to do. That it was mercy. “I just . . .” she just couldn’t fathom it. 

Leon nodded in turn. “Yeah. I know.” 

There was only so much rationalizing one could do. Only so many times a person could tell themselves that it had to be done. Leon knew he would either be broken by that fact or become numb to it. He wasn’t sure which one he dreaded more. 

Nor was he able to dwell on it for long, before a figure approached, winding around the edge of the building. Leon and his companions looked up just in time to see a guard there, his face pulled into a tight expression. Leon didn’t even get to ask what brought him there before the guard spoke, gesturing for them all to stand. 

“Everyone needs to come with me. Now.” 

He didn’t hide it very well - the worry in his voice. The urgency. 

“What happened?” Valeria asked, her eyes suddenly sharpening as she picked up on the new energy brought to the moment. 

There was no real answer given, only a sense of looming dread as they were ushered back to their rooms. A sense of dread that was becoming all too familiar to Leon. 

⧫⧫⧫

Fate hadn’t given you many of the things that you’d hoped for. 

In fact, lately, it felt like life had been gorging itself on you, rather than practicing charity. What it had given, you found, had only led to hurt. Or it surely would. This would be no different. The gift you’d just been given would bring pain, but it was the kind you would gladly endure. You wouldn’t refuse something you craved with all your being - that you had paid for in blood and bruises and a breaking spirit. You gave in to a dark faith that now, finally, fate had thrown you a goddamn bone. 

Not all those around you shared that sentiment.

Including you, there were five in the room - a room that was completely sealed off from the rest of the world. Simmons watched the room from the edges of it, twisting the gold ring on his thumb while he focused. Hellman and Benford were more focused on the computer screen in front of them. As for the fifth . . . you could never remember feeling so much weight behind Major Krauser’s gaze. He’d done a poor job of hiding his concern when you and Hellman explained what had happened. That concern had so quickly turned to rage, and you had wished you could return to being blind to the cause of it all. Things had been less complicated, then. 

You wished a lot of things could go back to the way they had been. 

But with no way to go but forward, you set your focus to the information in front of you. A hound being given a scent. 

“I don’t like this.” Benford shook his head, the computer screen in front of him reflected in his glasses.  

The images on it, the text . . . 

Coordinates. Overhead images of an island - Kolguyev, it read. A sizable but mostly unoccupied piece of land in the Barents Sea. Russia. The island itself had a small town on one side, and on the other, a fenced perimeter. Four buildings were tucked in, surrounded by more open expanses of land. Ranges, you realized. You could see vehicles, even what looked like a tank, and well-carved pathways for them to use. It was a familiar layout even if you’d never seen the island before - you’d spent the last several months in places just like this, after all.

“It’s a training facility,” you breathed, your voice raspy. Crushed down to size by the man’s hand around your throat. A man who, it seemed, had given you a target. 

It was all but confirmed when Benford scrolled down, and names and faces you didn’t recognize passed the screen. Service records, you realized, though not for any one country’s military. No, they were unified under a different banner. 

𝚄𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 𝚂𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚂𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎

𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝: 𝚁𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝙲𝚒𝚝𝚢

That was not surprising. Instead, what caught your eye was not who they served, but where they’d come from. 

𝙱𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙺𝚘𝚕𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚎𝚟 𝙵𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢

Benford leaned back in his chair, his mouth set in a thin line. 

His silence only served to fuel your anger. You weren’t alone in that. 

“You said Reed was heading to Russia?” Krauser sounded just as viciously pleased as you were. It only made the senior agent at the computer more uncomfortable. 

Benford nodded. Once. Reluctantly. “But there are Umbrella facilities all over the world. We don’t know-”

“We don’t have to know.” You straightened up, feeling something rise in you. Potential energy, the need to do something. And now, you’d been given a heading. “If this is a training facility, then we can start to level the playing field.” You could take from them what they’d taken from you: their future. And if Reed was there, then you could kill him. You could show him the failure of his cause as he died and-

“The risk is too high,” Benford shook his head. “Not when we have so little concrete information.”

“But you can get more information.” Krauser sounded almost as certain as you were, tearing open holes in Benford’s argument. 

He’d taught you to press the offensive, so you did. “You wanted to fight Umbrella. You trained us to do that, and now what? You’re too scared to use the weapons you built?” You met Benford’s eyes, and felt some little satisfaction when you saw him waver under your stare.  

His response was measured, even so. “It’s not that simple, Sergeant. It’s how we were given this information that concerns me.” 

“You mean the man who broke your perimeter like it was made of tissue paper?” Krauser’s words bit hard into their target, as they so often did. 

Benford just turned the attack into more ammunition. “Exactly. This man broke into our facility without issue. He overpowered you and Hellman both, and left just as easily. This kind of intel isn’t just given without motive.” 

“Umbrella has enemies besides us,” Simmons pointed out, finally entering the conversation with a cool voice. “Their facility on Rockfort Island was destroyed by a paramilitary organization a few months ago, was it not?” 

So Krauser hadn’t been given all the reports after all, because that name didn’t sound familiar to you. By his reaction now, it wasn’t because the Major had omitted any information when it came to you.

“It was,” Benford confirmed, “but I would argue that makes this more suspicious. Not less.” 

It was Hellman who spoke next, incredulous. “If Umbrella has an enemy in that man, why is he not the one storming Kolguyev?” There was something to that, you supposed. He’d crushed a knife blade in his hand. Lifted you off the ground like you were nothing, and moved with a speed you couldn’t hope to match. Even so, even with all that power, he was handing this off to the likes of you. “He wouldn’t let us take him in for a reason. He’s setting us up to be pawns.” 

“Does it matter?” you found yourself asking, the words not your own. Did it matter whose pawn you were, so long as Umbrella was dealt a blow? 

Benford turned to you, already-present frown lines deepening. “There’s a good chance that this is a trap. If this is a training outpost, there will be soldiers there-”

Fire rushed through you, your gaze turned to a branding iron. “I’m counting on it.” 

A laugh followed your declaration, and Simmons pushed off the wall. Satisfaction curled his lips into a smile. “ That right there. We need more soldiers like that if we’re to stand a chance against this corporation. Sometimes risks must be taken in a fight such as this one, and we need those who will do what it takes.” 

“So glad you approve,” Krauser snarled under his breath, but the conversation went on as if he’d said nothing.

Benford snapped his attention to his fellow agent, then. “Derek, we don’t have many people who know about this conflict left. If this operation goes wrong, we could lose all of them.” 

It was true. You knew it. This was enemy territory. No reinforcements, no solid intel, nothing to go on but what you held now. And it was worth it, for the exact reasons that Simmons spoke now. “And if this really is a training facility, if more records like these are available there and we got ahold of them,” he pointed his chin towards the screen, “then we could root out Umbrella’s personnel.” 

People like Reed. People like the man who’d driven a knife into your gut, and the team that had been with him. If there was a chance you could find them - track them down . . . 

“So send me.” The room turned towards Krauser, the Major pulling attention with his declaration. One forged in iron. One that embedded itself in your gut.

“By yourself, Major?” Simmons asked. The bastard had a talent for sounding patronizing, one that Krauser didn’t appreciate, if his biting tone was any indication. 

“Benford’s right. You’re down too many men to send them. I’m the most experienced soldier you have who knows about all of this. One man has a better chance of not being spotted than a team.” 

No. You felt a surge of something rise in you at the suggestion, because you knew how that would end. Whatever was happening with Krauser, whatever his feelings for you and however you felt in return, you knew that if he went out there alone, he would likely die. 

That was unacceptable. 

Even so, you stopped yourself from voicing that thought. You stopped yourself because all of the people in this room seemed to think that there was something between you and the Major. Something you couldn’t give credence to. You had to act as though you didn’t care, as though the man who’d saved your life, who’d given you so much, meant nothing to you. 

So, just like with Alenko, you dug deeper into the hollow of yourself. 

“So,” the Major went on, blue eyes boring into Benford’s own, “send me.” 

The most horrifying part was that the men around you considered it. You could see them making the mental calculations. Better to lose one man than an entire squad, that was the brutal calculus of it. One that you couldn’t exactly argue.

“No.” Your focus snapped elsewhere, and you never, ever thought you would be grateful to Hellman of all people. Still, the agent, wielding the guilt you’d buried in his gut, went on. “You’re a good soldier, no one can deny that, but this is about infiltration. Information retrieval. That’s what I’ve been trained for.” 

Krauser scoffed, somehow making a laugh sound dangerous. “You couldn’t even tell that your friend was an Umbrella plant.”

“Neither could you, Major,” Hellman reminded him. “Not until it was too late.”

“You watch your mouth-”

Hellman went on, undeterred. “I’m in the best position to make it right. I can scope things out and see what’s there.” It was an idea that sat with you no better than Krauser going alone. Not because you cared about Hellman’s safety, but because he didn’t deserve this vengeance, as far as you were concerned. 

“Noble of you,” Simmons nodded, still twisting the gold band on his thumb, “but that doesn’t solve the problem of one man not being enough to take down an entire base. A small team could assess the facility covertly and then infiltrate it if need be,” he went on, eyes sharp as he planned. 

“The Umbrella facilities we’re aware of thus far have always been more than they appear on the surface,” Benford pointed out. “There could be more than what’s depicted here. They would be on enemy territory, going in blind, fighting a force they’ve never faced before.” 

“How fortunate then,” Simmons just went on, his fingers twisting his ring while his lips were twisted into a smile to match, “that we have individuals with experience in such matters. Individuals who understand the value of knowing one’s enemy, and will stop at nothing to take the fight to them.” He looked at you, then, with the expression of a man who gambled and won more often than not. A man who didn't mind betting, especially when he wasn't the one who stood to lose. 

You didn’t mind that he was gambling with your life, though. Not so long as you got what you wanted. 

The only trouble was that Simmons wasn’t the only player in this game. 

“I don’t like the idea of sending just the two of them,” Benford said, another opinion added to the mix. One borne of mistrust - that much you could see plainly. You and Hellman were untrustworthy in his eyes, even now. You couldn’t blame him, you supposed; this mysterious man with too much information on Umbrella appeared out of nowhere and gifted you exactly what you needed. Anyone with a brain would find it suspicious. 

You understood that, you truly did. The only trouble was, what you knew was coming next. What you felt in your bones. 

“Kennedy has been inside Umbrella facilities before,” Benford went on, and it was clear to you then that fate had not, in fact, thought you’d paid the price for this gift. No, it demanded ever more. “And they worked well with Soto and Williams. That would keep the team small enough to avoid attention.” 

Your jaw tightened as he spoke their names, eyes going wide, showing off the red that had crept in when your air was cut off. 

But before you even had the chance to speak, Krauser huffed, incredulous. “Then I should go with them.” 

“I would be inclined to agree,” Simmons took a moment to formulate his counter, “but you and Hellman here are the only two instructors we have left with knowledge of bioweapons.”

“You can just tell someone else. They just destroyed an entire base, it’s not like it’s going to be a secret forever.” 

“The President has made it clear,” Benford said this time, “the fewer people know about all this, the better.” 

It was a losing argument. A fight not worth spilling blood over. That didn’t stop Krauser, though. “You’ve got to be joking,” the Major shook his head, looking between you and Simmons. “You wanna send a bunch of shell-shocked rookies out there? You’ll get them killed.” 

Simmons tilted his head to the side. “Many of these ‘rookies’ have service records before STRATCOM, Major. With the exception of Kennedy, I suppose. Though I would imagine his experience in Raccoon City makes up for that fact.” 

“They’re not ready-”

“Are you implying that your training of them was insufficient?” 

“Damn it, you’ve seen them!” He was talking about the entirety of your squad, but he looked at you. And in that moment, you had a realization: this wasn’t the Major you were used to seeing. In the last few months, he’d been a steadying force for you. A leader you could look to for guidance. Now, in this moment, all you saw was a scared man, clinging to whatever control he had left. Control that he’d given up the moment he gave you those reports. The second he admitted his guilt in doing so. “They’re afraid, and angry, and if you send people like that out there, they’re going to slip up. They’re going to get themselves killed.” 

He’d told you so many times to never show weakness. To never bear your scars and wounds. Now, here he was, doing it without meaning. 

A blunted blade would do them no good. Whether that was Krauser or Leon or you. 

So, no matter how much you wanted to insist that Leon be left behind, that he wasn’t suited to this mission, you knew how that would look. You knew that, to Simmons, that would be blood in the water for him to scent and salivate on. 

Not that it mattered what you or Krauser wanted, anyway. The decision was already being made, you could see it in Simmons’ eyes. 

Leon’s fate and yours, your friends . . . you were all tied together. At least you could spare one person you cared about. He’d saved your life once, after all. You hadn’t expected to return the favor this way. 

You hadn’t expected so many things. 

“You’re angry, sir,” you said, finding your voice again, however hollow it may be. You’d seen many expressions on Krauser’s face that you’d never thought to see, lately. The surprise you were greeted with now, almost like betrayal, was one of them. He wasn’t the only one that had a claim to that betrayal. Still, you carried on, reminding him of a fact he should have known well. “Your judgment would be just as compromised.” 

You’d never been on the receiving end of Major Krauser’s anger, really. Some part of you had hoped to never experience it. When faced with it now, though? You were surprised by how little it affected you. He’d taught you to face down worse though, hadn’t he? 

“My judgment?” He asked, stepping closer. “You want to talk about emotion clouding judgment? All you’ve ever done is let what you’re feeling control you. The only reason you’re here is revenge. That’s it. You want to kill the people who took your Captain. Your friends-” 

“Umbrella didn’t kill them,” you said, your expression blank as you stated the truth that had eaten away at you. The truth that had carved a well in you and taken up residence there. Because as much as Umbrella had turned your friends into monsters, as much as Reed and the man who’d driven a knife into you had done, they hadn’t pulled the trigger on Rain. 

Or Reynolds. 

Or Alenko. 

“I did.” 

Krauser, for once, looked disarmed. He stared at you - him and the other men in the room. Men who had either helped shape you into the dagger you were, or would wield you. 

“I did what I had to do. And I will keep doing that, until Umbrella is buried.” That had been your vow, all those months ago. As you lay in a hospital bed, clutching a dog tag that would be all that remained of the man you considered a father. You’d lost sight of that goal, and the world had reminded you of it now. So, you looked at the computer screen in front of you, at the image of the base there. Your chance, not to make it right, but to strike a blow. “That’s all that matters.” 

And to these men who would be your commanders, who would now dispatch you across the globe, hunting your targets, that was enough. 

⧫⧫⧫

Hours passed, and still there were no answers. No justifications for why everyone had been taken back to their rooms, but it was all too clear to Leon that something had happened. The guards - rigid even on a good day - had been tight-jawed and tense as they’d guided Leon and the others towards their rooms. Something was wrong, because it seemed like something was always wrong, now. 

The only question was: what?

That night, he was allowed to imagine just how wrong things were. By the time their cell doors were opened again, the worst possible scenarios had flooded his mind, memories amplified by a sudden and gruesome abundance of imagination. It didn’t amount to the horrors he feared. There was no attack. No undead. 

All Leon was greeted with was a pair of eyes framed by glasses, set in the aging face of the man who’d ruined his life. “Agent Kennedy, if you’ll come with me, please.” 

Agent Kennedy.

He was an agent now, wasn’t he? He’d passed his final test. He was theirs to send wherever they pleased. 

Him and you, it seemed, because you stood just behind the agent, and you weren’t alone. Hellman, Dina and Valeria were there too, each of them looking like the hangman had called their names. Not you, though. You were stone, as you so often were.

Even with a handprint bruised onto your throat. 

Leon felt sick to his stomach as he saw the mark, the skin on your throat turned a dark purple from the pressure of someone's grasp. He’d worn a bruise to match after Raccoon City, courtesy of the silent monster that had stalked him that night. That had come too close to killing him too many times. 

That handprint had been larger than a human’s hand, though. The one on your throat could have belonged to anyone. Who then? Who had hurt you? Who had done this to you? 

There were no answers to be found from Benford, who simply gestured for Leon to follow, before pausing a moment. “And if you may . . .” he held up his other hand, one that had been clenched at his side. One that, as his fingers uncurled, Leon realized held little plaques. Three sets of two, linked by chains, numbers and letters stamped into the metal. Three sets of two, and one chain that linked three plaques, the name REYNOLDS clear to Leon’s eye, just as your name was. 

Their dog tags. 

Benford was collecting them. 

For a moment, Leon felt fear surge through him. With the group gathered before him, he worried that the feelings present among the group had finally been laid bare. He worried that, at last, their luck had run out and their places in STRATCOM had been taken as punishment. 

As he hesitated, Benford spoke a clarification. One he sounded solemn about. “You’ll get them back when you return.” 

“Return from where?” Leon felt numb even asking the question. 

Benford didn’t look any more pleased as he took a breath in, but Leon saw your expression shift. You didn’t look up from the empty space you stared off into, but your eyes darkened all the same as the agent answered. “I’ll explain elsewhere, but . . . you have a target.”

A target. 

A mission. 

His first. 

And wherever you were all going, your identities couldn’t follow. 

He had little choice, so did as he was told and reached up to his neck. A moment later, his name was pressed down beside yours and those of his friends, hidden from view as Benford closed his fist around them. 

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[mychoombatheroomba]

ARCANE SEASON 2 SPOILERS BENEATH THE CUT

If I had a nickel for every time in media I like, a sad gay with floppy emo hair was betrayed and hurt by their grief-stricken, beret-wearing commanding officer/lover, I'd have two nickels. Not a lot, but weird that it happened twice.

[mychoombatheroomba]

I can’t express in words how much I love your ongoing leon fic😭 ♥️♥️♥️♥️

GUH THANK YOU SO MUCH I feel bad I've been taking a lil break from writing it lately, but I wanna make it as good as I possibly can! Thank you so much for reading it! It's a big lad, so I always always am honored when I see people going through the whole thing! ❤

[mychoombatheroomba]

“The training, the punishing missions nearly killed me”

[mychoombatheroomba]

On the one hand, I'm devastated and do not want to write at all.

On the other, if Project 2025 goes into full effect it could deadass inhibit me from finishing Between the Bones and my other silly little projects because it would criminalize porn in the US (among many other terrifying things).

So I gotta lock in out of spite, I guess.