Work Text:
The view over Washington D.C. from the top of the office building, the D.S.O. had rented under a fake name, was beautiful. Wind rustled soft blond hair, but it was not cold. In fact, Leon hardly felt it.
He was not intoxicated. He had thought of it but had decided against it. After all, years of service had proven that he was no coward. Well... Besides the reason why he sat on this building's roof, and the fact that there was only one, very straight way down for him.
A deep sigh left his lips. Yesterday, he had given his friends the letters, had joked they were invitations and could not be opened until a week later. They had all taken it.
The letters had been a stupid gesture, the way he had announced him even more stupid. Nonetheless, it gave Leon the feeling that he would comfort his friends with those letters. It seemed like the littlest he could do to soften the fall for them.
Despite the little charade he had made up around the letters, Chris had eyed him suspiciously. Leon remembered the moment vividly.
---
"Guys? I've got something for you!" Leon had called, holding the five cards in his hands. They were in sleek, white envelopes and had his cleanest longhand on them. He wanted this to look proper.
Sherry and Claire turned their heads. Rebecca also perked up, her little noise of interest also making Chris and Jill turn. "What is it, Leon?" Chris had asked with his soft, deep voice. Leon felt embraced by it, wondering for a split second if this really was the right way. He discarded the doubt as quickly as it had risen.
He smiled in this bright, medication-induced way again that nobody seemed to see through. "I got a lil' surprise for you. So I got these letters, invitations if you will, BUT you may only open them in one week, yeah?" Leon had explained, one pointer finger lifted as he spoke.
"What is it about?" The blond looked over at Sherry and smiled, trying to keep the sadness out of it. "Couldn' possibly tell, could I? Would ruin the surprise," he had replied, smiling brightly again, as he gave them their corresponding envelope.
When Chris had taken his, their fingers had brushed briefly. Leon almost flinched away from the touch. Everything the older Redfield sibling did seemed to shake Leon's conviction to go through with his plan, his "surprise" for them. "You okay, man?" Chris had finally asked, still looking at him with worried hazel eyes.
A lump had sat in Leon's throat at those words. Of course, he was not okay. He had not been for years and years, and now he was finally tired of running and marching on and fighting only to return to be sent away again to another pharmaceutical drama. "Everything's good. Don't worry 'bout me, Chris. And trust me... What I planned? It'll be worth your while," he had promised with the same fake smile.
Claire had chuckled. "Ohh! Are you going to celebrate your birthday, Leon? I mean it's around that time, mh?" Oh yeah... Damn. She was right. His birthday was around the corner, but Leon had no intention of celebrating it consciously anymore. "Somethin' like that," he had therefore replied, leaving the actual intention ambiguous.
Then he had reached for his glass, lifting it. "Thanks for being my friends, guys. Life's really been a lot more fun with you in it. Cheers." Leon had stated then with a genuine smile, clinking their glasses. Chris had stared at him all evening with this worried expression in his hazel eyes.
---
The envelope glared at Chris when he walked past it while cleaning his flat. He stopped, mop still in hand and looked back at it. The gesture of writing an invitation letter still confused Chris.
Leon was very much a convenience person. Most of the information he shared, he shared through text messages or short calls. Writing a letter was just out of character for him.
Chris had shared this worry with Jill, and while she had agreed that it was weird, she had pointed out that maybe he just really planned something big and wanted it to be proper, hence the invitation letters.
Chris could not deny that she had a point. Nonetheless, it still confused him. He reached for the letter with his free hand, feeling the paper beneath his fingers again and eyeing it.
"You may only open it in a week." Leon's voice echoed in his head. At the moment, he had waited for about 21 hours, and it already felt unbearable.
There was a feeling of impending doom that simply refused to leave Chris alone, and it all seemed to be triggered by this letter.
He sighed, putting the mop back in its rightful place and sitting down by the dinner table, the envelope still in his hand.
The sun was slowly sinking. It was only 4:30pm, but since it was autumn, the early sunset was not confusing. The wind had picked up in the last hour, rustling his hair. Leon did not know why he had not jumped yet. It was so easy. Jump, 2 seconds of free fall, impact, a quarter of a second of pain if he did it correctly, and death. Still, something was keeping him. Maybe it was the view or the lack of motivation that Leon had been feeling for years now.
For months now, emptiness had replaced most of his emotions. Even when he enjoyed something, it became numb and empty in his memory, unable to outweigh everything else on his mind.
Leon swung his legs over the ledge. They dangled in the air; beneath his shoes, nothing but abyss. It felt like New York City all over again. His leather jacket had given him carpet burns, and the glass railing had been the only thing stopping him hard enough so he had not fallen into the same abyss he was facing willingly now.
Some nights, he still woke covered in sweat and hyperventilating, feeling like he was falling all over again. His dreams had never cared that he had not actually fallen.
Leon put pressure on his hands, leaning forward precariously. Only one more bit, and there was no going back anymore. The temptation of silencing his mind felt so close now.
Suddenly, the door behind him, the one leading to the roof, slammed open. Reflex made Leon turn his head. His eyes widened in shock.
Dear Chris,
I'm afraid this isn't quite the letter I promised. With it, I sincerely invite you to my funeral. Sorry, I know. Awful humour.
They will say that nobody saw it coming, and I made sure of that. I never wanted anyone to see that I was suffering. Raccoon City taught me that it is no wise idea to allow people to see your true colours.
Nonetheless, I always felt like you were looking right through me, but I couldn't allow you to see me. I'm sincerely sorry that you'll receive this letter too.
By the time you read this, you won't be able to do anything anymore.
Just know, I always appreciated your care and you as a friend. My decision has nothing to do with your effort to save me.
To be frank, my mind has not been silent in years. I keep fighting and fighting and moving forward while never really leaving my spot. I also keep surviving for reasons I'm incapable of explaining.
Missions used to make my head go silent for a few blissful hours, but with time, I got so used to the constant stress that my mind would no longer do me this favour.
I don't want to be alive anymore.
The D.S.O. can do without me, and your life will also continue without me in it.
But if I don't choose this way out, I don't think I ever will.
I'm so incredibly tired, Chris. Please forgive me, but I reached the end of my rope. I don't know how to carry on from here.
I'm so sick of seeing people I care about die because I'm incapable of doing my job correctly. I'm sick of being sent to outbreak after outbreak, fighting symptoms but never addressing the disease.
Krauser would call me weak for choosing the "coward's way" out, but didn't he do the same? Well.
My death will likely hurt for a while, and I'm not able to soften this fall, what an irony, but please know, I'm at peace now.
By the time you read this, my mind will have finally found rest and silence, and I'm finally free.
You've always been my closest friend, inside and outside of work, because you understood my pain. You knew it.
I want to thank you for that. Thank you for always sticking around and saving me when I just wanted to drown it all in alcohol.
You are a good person, Chris. Please don't lose this over my death. Other people still need this side of you.
Thank you. For everything.
Leon S. Kennedy
The words still burned in Chris' mind as he ran up the stairs of the nondescript office building, housing the D.S.O. The letter had said nothing about a location, but for some reason, Chris believed that Leon would choose this way out.
It was the one way that would be final with an almost 100% chance. The impact on the concrete ground from this height would shatter bones and cause tears and significant damage to internal organs and skin. Depending on the angle of impact, death would occur within seconds.
Besides that it felt weirdly poetic, considering that the fall might feel like freedom.
The letter that had kick-started Chris' desperate search still sat crinkled up in the inner pocket of his jacket. He just hoped he was not too late.
Chris tried to shake the dark thoughts, clouding his mind as he took the final stairs to the old, metal door leading to the roof. Without even caring for a key, he slammed through it, the lock breaking under his muscular shoulder.
Wind whipped into his face, but he did not care. All he cared for were shocked blue eyes meeting his own hazel ones. "Leon...!" he gasped, taking a careful step closer. In any other situation, he would not care, but Leon sat on the ledge, legs dangling precariously over it, closer to the ground than Chris felt comfortable with.
Those blue eyes stayed trained on him with the same shock for a few more seconds before Leon lowered his gaze, releasing a long, almost amused huff. "You broke the rules; opened the letter early, mh? I really shouldn't have given it to you before... this... Silly me," he whispered, his voice hardly carrying over the steady wind.
Chris had never felt a bigger urge to punch Leon. "What the fuck, Leon?!" The younger man sighed, tilting his head to look down into the abyss. At this time of day, the streets were still full of people and cars. So many bystanders... Again, Leon pushed himself up by his hands, testing how little it would take once more. That Chris was here now made everything more complicated. In the corner of his eye, he could see him flinch at his unnecessary test. The peace of mind he yearned for seemed too far to reach once more.
"Leon!" The taller man made rash steps forward, panicked. "Why are you doing this?! There must be another way!"
Leon shrugged, not meeting Chris' too caring eyes. He would rather he stood all alone again as he had in Spain. Before he had met Chris, before Chris had basically adopted him into the Redfield household and forced him to hang out with their friends. "There isn't... I've looked for it, but no therapy and medication on this planet can fix me, can fix _ this_," he replied numbly, pointing down at himself, pointing at everything. "All I can do is march on and on and keep fighting and fighting and fighting. I'm so tired of it, Chris... They'll never let me go unless I die..."
Chris balled his fists at his sides because he understood. Damn it. He understood so well, especially after losing Piers, but all the understanding in the world would not make Leon change his mind.
He did not need understanding, and Chris was well aware of that because understanding fixed nothing. Especially not when it was so progressed.
"There are people who still need you, Leon!" The blond scoffed, then sighed. "Sherry is better off without me. She has Claire. They have each other. Jill has you, Rebecca has Jill and you... You have each other. No need for me to stick around and drag you down with me. You're safer without me anyway," he replied matter-of-factly, staring straight ahead. He had pulled up one leg, leaning against it.
The words gave Chris pause. Was this really what Leon thought? How? "Is this because of the crap Blake said on Alcatraz?"
Leon's head snapped to him sharply. "All those questions won't fucking lead you anywhere, Redfield. I made my decision. Give me some fucking privacy, will you!" he hissed, despair disguised as anger swinging in his voice.
His attention returned to the abyss. "I can't do this! Don't you fucking get it? I care about you! More than you ever cared to see and more than I ever cared to admit!" The words made Leon flinch.
He smiled sadly, his eyes trained on the far horizon before tilting his head in Chris' direction. Their eyes met. Leon's eyes were glossy with tears, but he looked incredibly convinced. Chris stepped closer, heart throbbing in his throat.
"Thank you, Chris. Genuinely. I'm sorry..." he whispered with the same sad smile, pushing forward. This time, he did not stop. The ledge slipped away from under him, and for seconds there was just free fall.
Silence finally replaced the chaos in his head, the feeling in his belly refreshing to the numbness that had taken over his life.
Leon's whole body jerked when his fall was interrupted abruptly. He gagged, his shirt's collar digging into his throat. Warm knuckles dug into his nape.
His body slammed into the building's glass front, and he did nothing to soften the impact. His hands hung numbly at his sides. "Fuck! Give me your goddamn hand!" Chris' voice bellowed from above. Leon did nothing. The hand tensed in his shirt, the fabric cracking, not made to hold his weight.
"Leon! Fuck you!" the taller man added furiously. A second hand grabbed his sleeve, closing around his upper arm. Leon tried to pull away instinctively. "Just let me go!" Why was Chris so adamant about saving him? Leon did not want to be saved. Did not even deserve it.
After years of being left alone and abandoned, he had finally accepted that nobody would come for him, that it was safer this way, but then Chris Redfield had entered his life. Suddenly, somebody had perceived his life as something worth saving. Had considered him someone worth saving. It had made everything more complicated.
Chris grunted above him, tensing further, the fabric of Leon's shirt making another cracking sound. "I can't fucking do that! GIVE ME YOUR FUCKING HAND, LEON!" Chris yelled desperately.
For the first time, Leon finally looked up. His eyes looked so incredibly dead.
"Why?"
Gravity was pulling on both of them. Chris' abs were tensing, his arms straining. Leon still did nothing to help him.
"Because I FUCKING CARE ABOUT YOU!" he shouted then, readjusting his grip, panic flooding him when he lost grip for a second. "You can't just decide that nobody cares enough and that your life isn't worth living! Please! Just give me your hand!"
Blue eyes glossed over with fresh tears again. Finally giving up, Leon lifted one arm. Chris immediately grabbed it, pulling until he could reach beneath Leon's arms and pull him up properly.
Leon's body hit the roof with a thud, Chris' arms still around him. Even though his legs felt unstable, Leon stood immediately, shaking Chris off and trying to leave.
A familiar hand closed tightly around his wrist, making him spin around.
"What the FUCK do you want, Redfield!? Just leave me the fuck alone!" he hissed, trying to pull free, but Chris did not let go. He stared at the tears cutting tracks into Leon's cheeks, as he kept trying to pull himself free.
Chris wordlessly tugged, making Leon stumble forward into the taller man's arms. "LET ME GO!" Leon yelled when Chris hugged him, pulling his arms up to punch his chest. "I FUCKING HATE YOU! LET GO!" He punched him without much restraint, pushing with all his strength, but it was to no avail.
The taller man simply took it, kept holding him until the punches finally died down and Leon simply released a broken sob. More followed until he finally folded in on himself, breaking down sobbing. Chris caught him, held him close, and even knelt with him when the younger man collapsed, still crying.
Chris simply held him, not letting go. "Shh... It's okay..." Leon glared at him, making Chris shut up and return to simply holding him. "Wh-why... Why did you have to inter-intervene!? I.. I don't even de-deserve to still b-be alive... S-so.. so many di-died be-because I-I didn't do my jo-job properly... Wh-why..? I-I'm so tired of ev-everything..." he sobbed, finally spilling everything that had clouded his mind every second of every day.
For a long time, Chris did not reply. Leon's words did not really ask for a reply. Instead, he simply kept holding him, feeling how Leon's tears soaked through his shirt. Chris had tears of his own in his eyes. Not only because of the relief but also because he finally understood that Leon had never managed to let go of any death he had witnessed and had been unable to prevent.
After many long minutes, Leon finally stilled, his breathing relaxing. Chris loosened his grip slightly. "Better...?" he asked, voice hoarse. Leon avoided his gaze, shrugging. He felt so awfully numb again, but there was something else. Suffocating pain. Chris cared. Cared enough that he had opened the letter early, had rushed here and saved him. Leon had no idea what to make of this, how to handle it.
"Can you stand?" Chris continued gently, not even standing himself. There was no expectation, no pressure. It almost made Leon cry again. Instead, he shrugged. "Let me help," the taller man said, hooking his arms under Leon's once more and carefully pulling him up to his feet.
Leon leaned against him heavily, dissociated still and unable to make sense of any of this. He kept wondering how he was worth saving to Chris Redfield and if that had done anything to his conviction of wanting to die.
"Let's go home, yeah?" Chris offered, cupping his face with a hand. The gesture was far too intimate, far too gentle. Leon flinched but still leaned into it involuntarily. He felt pathetic. "Just drop me off at my place... No need to bring my sorry arse into your space."
Chris gave him a disapproving glance. "As if I'm gonna leave you alone right now," he replied, supporting Leon as they slowly walked to the broken door, leaving the rooftop. "Fuckin' golden retriever..." Chris almost chuckled at the remark but simply kept walking, one arm wrapped around the small of Leon's back, allowing him to lean into him.
The Redfields' flat was large, clearly intended for both siblings. Claire had left a note on the fridge that she was out for some investigation. Leon was glad she would not see him like this.
"You can stay here as long as you want, Leon." Chris pointed out, while walking into the flat's open kitchen, to make them something to drink. Leon just shrugged again. He clearly was still out of it. In his mind, he should not even be alive anymore.
In the kitchen, Chris was boiling water in a kettle. He had already prepared two cups, each with a strainer of loose tea leaves. Herbal teas. While usually a coffee person, Chris liked to drink tea in the evening to calm down for the night.
Now, Leon sat at his table, distraught and dissociated from a thwarted suicide attempt. Chris poured the boiling water into both mugs, carrying them over and placing one in front of Leon, who cupped it in his hands only to give them something to do.
Chris sat with him, placing a plate for the strainers between them. Leon was fidgeting with it, moving it up and down to disperse the tea faster.
"How are you feeling?" Chris asked then, cupping his own mug. The heat seeped into his palms, somewhat calming him.
Leon looked up, eyes still somewhat distant. Then he shrugged, chuckled in his heart--shattering, broken way. "I don't know... Like always... Numb.. but also not at all... I.. I can't make sense of it, and I hate it... I shouldn't even be alive anymore..."
Chris reached out, just offering his hand, not expecting anything. Leon just stared at it, not doing anything with the clear offer. "For what it's worth... I'm glad I reached you in time. I.. your death... I'm not sure I would've been able to handle it." Chris told him honestly. Leon averted his gaze.
"I'm sure you could've lived without me. I'm not that important..." "You are to me." Chris immediately retorted, making Leon look up. He gulped heavily. "What?" "You are this important to me, Leon. Genuinely," the taller man repeated honestly.
They both knew that Chris' life without Leon in it would still be livable. But for Chris, something would be missing. Something vital to him.
Maybe it was the way Leon looked at him after a mission, or their banter, or Chris observing Leon tease Claire. Maybe it was an accumulation of all of those things. Maybe it also were the unaddressed feelings Chris felt whenever looking at Leon and the crushing relief when he returned alive from yet another life-threatening mission.
"You are such a sweet talker... Always knowing what to say, mh...? With charm like that, you could probably talk a cat out of a tree." Chris reached out, placing a hand over Leon's right arm. "Except that I actually mean it," he stated calmly. Leon hated how much he yearned for this calm, judgment-free voice.
For hell's sake... He had just tried to commit suicide. How could Chris not judge him? "Doesn't make anythin' easier..." "If that means that you aren't gonna try again once I turn my back, worth it," Chris replied with a shrug, taking a sip from his mug after removing the strainer with the tea leaves.
Leon observed the gesture, removing the strainer from his own mug too. He shrugged. "Don't know where to go from here to be honest... I haven't really planned tomorrow, you know." The sentence stung. It hurt Chris how honest those words were.
If it had not been for him, Leon would no longer be alive. "I'm not sure how, but I can try to help... Maybe just call in sick for the moment and stay at this place. I know it might feel patronising, but I don't wanna leave you alone, neither right now nor tomorrow." Chris offered this same golden retriever kindness, which would have pissed Leon off in any normal situation. Right now, it felt like a balm on his internal wounds.
For a long moment, they just sipped on their teas, allowed the silence to spread between them, no longer feeling like the plague.
"Thank you..." Leon mumbled then. "For staying, I mean." Chris met his eyes. "Anytime, Leon." The younger man almost smiled at the promise; he knew Chris would make sure with his life to keep.
More calmly, he finished his tea. His heart still felt heavy, and part of him mourned that he had not jumped earlier, that he had allowed this whole charade to go down. A much tinier part was happy that he sat in Chris Redfield's flat now. Still breathing, body still in one piece, organs still in their rightful place, alive.
Chris also finished his tea, taking their mugs and placing them in the sink. "You wanna get some sleep? Guest room's free." Leon grinned, not missing his chance. "Slow down, bear. Buy me dinner first," he joked, clearly using his quips as a shield again. Chris had learned to love the untimely one-liners that Leon always seemed to procure out of thin air. He huffed a laugh. "C'mon. Bedtime." The retort earned him a probably fake grin, but at least it lightened the mood.
Leon stood nonetheless, following Chris into the guest bedroom. It was not lavish, by any means but it was cozy. Lived in, loved and comfortable. Like the whole flat. It made Leon feel what he had unlearned to feel. At home. Part of him wanted to never leave again, while the other, sharp-teethed, hissing part reminded him of his failure to take himself out of this misery.
With balled fists, Leon suppressed the thought, looking away. A hand closed around his fist, opening it gently with its warmth and comfort. Leon looked up, blue eyes meeting hazel ones and getting lost in them. "Not gonna tell ya it'll be easy, but it'll get better. One day at a time, and I'm here. Always." Chris stated gently.
Part of Leon wanted to start crying at the words. Fucking Chris Redfield really made everything more complicated. Nonetheless, he slightly leaned into him, his fist opening into a calloused palm.
Chris stayed where he was, providing anchorage as best he could. "Call me if you need anything, yeah?" he hummed after several minutes. Leon nodded but could not help himself nonetheless.
"No worries, Redfield. I'm not some damsel in distress." "I know. But everyone needs a little bit of help sometimes." Chris retorted with the same soft smile, returning Leon's deflective sarcasm unpolished.
Then he moved on. "Good night," he said, finally slipping away and leaving Leon alone.
The younger man released a long breath once he was alone. One day at a time, mh? Chris was always so gentle. It was sickening and consoling at the same time. Leon sat on the slim bed. He was safe, alive and most importantly, somebody cared. The feeling was weird because Leon had never allowed it before.
It seemed to deconstruct his beliefs from the inside. He sighed, collapsing on his side. Could Chris correct? Was living maybe not that bad? Leon could not possibly tell. All he had ever gotten from life had been hurt and loss and betrayal. It would take a while to shake those beliefs to the core and unroot them.
But maybe that did not have to be the goal. Maybe with Chris at his side presently, taking life one day at a time was a far more manageable goal. Maybe it was because of Chris.
A tear slid over Leon's nose bridge. Maybe there was hope, and maybe this hope just happened to be shaped like a certain B.S.A.A. captain. Leon sighed, deciding that being open to that possibility was probably the best chance life had to offer at the moment.