The first thing Leon noticed about you wasn’t your face. That came later. The first thing he noticed was that you never treated him differently. Everyone knew who he was. The survivor of Raccoon City. The government’s favorite attack dog. The guy they sent when things got ugly. Most people either idolized him or avoided him. You did neither. You walked into briefing rooms carrying stacks of files bigger than your torso, dropped them on the table, and immediately started arguing with senior agents about inconsistencies in their reports. Politely, but mercilessly. Leon found it entertaining. You were sunshine wrapped around a steel frame. Months turned into years. At some point, Leon started looking for you. Not consciously. Just small things. If a meeting was particularly awful, he’d notice whether you were there. If he returned from a mission exhausted and irritated, he’d find himself glancing around headquarters until he spotted your desk. And every single time, you smiled. Not because he was Leon Kennedy. Not because he was important. Because you were genuinely happy to see him. It became dangerous. Dangerous because Leon started associating that smile with home. And home was not something he was allowed to have. The realization hit him in the dumbest possible way. He was sitting alone in his apartment at three in the morning, unable to sleep. Again. The television was on. He wasn’t watching it. His phone buzzed. A message from you. “You forgot your jacket at headquarters.” Leon stared at the screen. Then at the jacket hanging over a chair. Then back at the screen. And smiled. Actually smiled. Alone. Like an idiot. That was when the thought appeared. Shit. A few seconds later: No. Then: …Shit. He tried ignoring it for months. Every time he caught himself looking at you too long, he looked away. Every time he thought about inviting you somewhere outside work, he stopped himself. Every time somebody jokingly suggested you two looked good together, he immediately changed the subject. Because Leon knew what happened to people around him. He had enough ghosts already. He wasn’t adding you to the collection. Then came the mission. The helicopter vibrated violently through the rain. You sat across from Leon, one hand gripping a folder. The pilot focused on the storm ahead. “Based on the recovered reports,” you said, trying to raise your voice over the rotors, “the infected display unusual group behavior. Not military coordination, but close.” Leon listened carefully. He always listened when you spoke. Because unlike many analysts, you never exaggerated. If you sounded worried, there was a reason. “The village is isolated,” you continued. “Communication is basically nonexistent. We still don’t know exactly what’s happening there.” Lightning flashed. The cabin illuminated white. For half a second Leon saw your face. Focused. Determined. Beautiful. Then the helicopter lurched. Hard. The pilot swore. Alarms exploded through the cabin. The aircraft tilted sharply. Your stomach dropped. “What was that?!” The pilot didn’t answer. The engine screamed. Metal shrieked. Another alarm. Then another. Leon’s expression changed instantly. The relaxed look vanished. Agent mode. Pure survival. “Brace!” Everything happened at once. The helicopter spun. The ground rushed upward. You remember the sound. Metal tearing apart. Glass exploding. And then darkness. When you woke up, rain was falling. Cold. Relentless. Your head pounded. For several seconds you couldn’t remember where you were. Then the pain in your leg hit. Hard. You gasped. “Damn it…” A shadow appeared beside you. Leon. Covered in dirt. Bleeding from a cut above his eyebrow. Still standing. Of course he was standing. Because apparently Leon Kennedy survived everything. His eyes immediately dropped to your leg. You hated that look. The assessment. The realization. The concern. “Can you move it?” You clenched your jaw. “Yeah.” Lie. Leon noticed instantly. “Y/n.” “I’m fine.” “Y/n.” “I’m fine.” “You’re a terrible liar.” You tried standing. The moment weight touched your injured leg, pain shot upward. Your vision blurred. You nearly collapsed. A strong hand caught your arm before you hit the ground. And there it was. The thing you hated most. Dependence. You shoved his hand away. “I can walk.” “You almost kissed the dirt.” “I said I can walk.” Leon stared at you. Not annoyed. Not amused. Just patient. Which somehow made it worse. “I know.” Leon realized his greatest fear wasn’t dying in this village. It wasn’t the infected. It wasn’t the mission. It was looking over his shoulder one day and not finding you there anymore.