Chapter 31 - Snake In The Grass

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| - Extremely Long Chapter - |

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Everything's....been so...quiet...so lonely...

31 hours later, and still, no one can really process what happened.

All those days, you've only been swallowed by physical uneasiness-constant nausea and inexplicable dizziness...but now...some type of...mental numbness...washes gradually inside...your fatigued form.

...You can't think clearly...All your mind is occupied...are the vivid flashbacks of the last 'simple mission' at the Hotel Hilton...his name endlessly haunting your thoughts.

Carlos....Carlos...

Looking down at your bare palms, you still see his blood smeared all over them. Immediately, you reach for the crumpled tissues that are scattered on your bed to desperately wipe them off. However, no matter how many times you've washed them, wiped them... that red liquid dripping from your hands- this upsetting hallucination lingers, reminding you of your impulsive decision.

Fuck...

Closing your eyes, another wave of tears breaks free while your body collapses onto the mattress. Turning to the side, you clutch the pillow against your chest, trying to muffle your sobs.

If you agreed with Piers' plan instead, a life wouldn't be taken-if you handled the situation better... given the care Carlos needed, he'd be still here.

He died because of you...

----

The time nears six in the morning, and Leon still hasn't set foot at the base. He's at some random, nameless bar, nursing another glass of heavy, neat, bitter vodka.

The weight of Carlos' loss presses heavily on his chest, bringing with it a familiar and crushing sense of blame.

There's not a single word to describe what he's feeling right now. His thoughts are a chaotic tornado of regret and sorrow, each one getting deeper than the last.

Downing the rest of the vodka, he grimaces at the burning liquor coating the insides of his throat. With a determined thud, he sets the glass on the counter, signaling the bartender for another refill-a refill he hopes it will bring him closer to numbness, if only for a brief reprieve.

If he wouldn't listen to Ada that night..If join her side - If he had arrived earlier at the parking lot, Carlos may have escaped alive...

He died because of Leon.

----

In the meantime over at Wiskays bar, Chris is swiftly downing another glass of his drink in one large gulp, followed by a drag of his cigarette. The combination of nicotine and alcohol has blurred his total count of consumption.

A few meters away from him, there's Piers standing at the entrance, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. The moment he spots Chris, Piers' face hardens with his eyebrows furrowing. He begins to approach him, his steps loud because of his military boots, until he finally reaches the counter and settles onto the stool, right by Chris' side.

"One coffee. The usual," Piers requests, already placing the bill on the counter.

The bartender nods, jumping right into the preparations for Piers' order. The operator's gaze falls upon Chris, who is enveloped in a cloud of smoke - cigarette butts scattered in the ashtray beside him.

"How's Luis?" Chris finally asks, his voice strained and hoarse.

"Still recovering," Piers reports, bringing his elbows onto the counter. "He'll be back tomorrow."

Chris pauses, blinking slowly as he takes another drag of smoke, his eyes empty of emotions, only reflecting the internal suffering he is enduring. "How many of our men are watching him?"

"About six."

Weakly nodding, Chris continues his repetitive movements. Drink and drag.

That moment, an uneasy silence settles between the two men, buzzing only by the faint chatter of other customers in the background. Chris' fingers curl into fists at this torturous quietness between them, while Piers' hands tap patiently on the slick surface.

Finally, with resignation in his tone, Chris speaks up. "...I killed him," he admits.

"You did." Piers coldly confirms, finally turning his direction to the leader of the team, which gradually begins to collapse. "Thing is...what are we doing now?"

"...Is there anything that can be done?"

"There always is."

Chris chuckles bitterly, bringing a mocking edge to his voice evident as he reaches for his glass. "There's nothing we can do, Piers," he looks at him. "There's nothing I can do anymore."

"So what, you're just gonna drink your sorrows away from now on?" Piers asks, gesturing at the drink in Chris' hand.

"Looks like it," Chris mumbles against the rim of his glass.

But before he can take another sip, Piers grabs the glass from Chris' grasp and pours the remaining liquid onto the floor. He has had enough of everyone's indolence.

"With all due respect, I've had enough of your shit, Captain," Piers says, slamming the empty glass back down on the counter. "Carson killed Carlos and almost killed Luis...We've been idle since then. When I asked you to stay put, you didn't listen. Now. NOW, that we have a reason to go after him, now you suggest we do nothing?"

"But you said-"

"I said what I said before things escalated like this," Piers interrupts, leaning closer, his voice lowering with each word. "With everything that happened at the hotel, it's only a matter of time before Umbrella captures him first...If we let him go, Carlos might not be the only one to lose."

"What do you suggest we do then?"

"Search for him. But this time, we'll be much more discreet, and all of us will be on watch. The clock is ticking Chris, and each second that passes is crucial. If we lose Carson's trails, we might jump right back to the beginning."

"Piers-" Chris tries to protest, but Piers remains resolute.

"For once just listen to me. Just this once," he pauses, leaning closer for only Chris to hear. "...for Carlos' sake."

----

1:24 P.M.

⁤You're slumped at the desk, head resting in your palm with your thoughts being a jumbled mess. ⁤⁤The past few hours have been nothing but aimless wandering, moving from one room to another - from the bunker to the operating room and back again. ⁤Right now, you find yourself holed up back in your room. 

Standing up, you make your way towards your bed, and collapse onto the mattress. For the following minutes, you'rejust laid there. Staring blankly at the ceiling as sleep continues to elude you. It's starting to become...an impossible task.

Just then, your gaze inevitably drifts to Claire's bed, still neatly made and painfully empty. ⁤⁤She hasn't returned since what happened at the hotel, and her absence hits hard right now.

Shit. This becomes unbearable.

With a heavy sigh and a tired blink, you observe for a bit the empty bed across from yours, until your gaze finds and lingers on the novel, lying on the nightstand, between the two beds - untouched since the last mission.

Making a weary attempt, you reach for it, and lie the book right on your thighs, opening the page where you left off. Maybe losing yourself in its pages might provide a temporary escape from the harsh reality that surrounds you. Even if it's mentally. Even if it's just for a bit.

Opening the bookmarked page, you begin to read silently:

'Anna had lost her power. Deep down, she knew Stefan wasn't the right one for her. But there he was, taking care of her like no one else ever done-'

However, your face morphs in strange disgust as for the first time, you can barely finish reading a sentence without...cringing. However, you try to push yourself to read further. And so you read...and read...and read:

'His fingers trail down tenderly against her soft, freckled cheek. His thoughts hang heavy, unable to bear the view of her reaction if she discovers the truth-'

"What a load of melodramatic shit..." you mutter under your breath, snapping the book shut with a frustrated thud. Without a second thought, you carelessly toss it back onto the nightstand, watching it skid across the surface. Perching on the edge of the bed, you bury your face in your hands, realizing that even the world of romance novels offers no escape in your current state.

The same novels that used to be your only escape once.

Suddenly, the door creaks open, but you pay little to no attention to turn and see who it is. Until steps begin to echo closer to you. Before you can lift your head to see who it is, a plastic container appears in front of you, atop the lid a wrapped fork, and a napkin.

Slowly raising your head, you find Leon standing there...the food container in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Wordlessly, he extends them towards you. While a part of you appreciates his thoughtful gesture, the mere sight of food already begins to stir a new wave of nausea.

Averting your eyes back to the floor, you mumble, "I'm not hungry."

"You need to eat something," Leon speaks up and insists, his voice carrying concern despite the noticeable distance in his demeanor. "You've been doing nothing but throwing up for the past two days," his eyes dart between you and the container, a flicker of worry betraying his gaze. "It'll help you. Trust me."

After seconds of hesitation and exchanging glances, you finally concede, "Okay," and reach out to accept the meal. "I'll try to eat a bit. Thanks."

Leon acknowledges with a silent nod, placing next the bottle of water right by your side. Then, instead of leaving like he usually does, he surprises you by settling himself on Claire's bed directly across from you. But for some reason, don't respond to his presence.

Sitting down, he spends a moment to observe you quietly. You note the concern and uncertainty in his eyes as he scans your features, your stance - how your fingers nervously fidget with the plastic lid of the container - your pale face, and dried tears in your eyes. Still, you don't say anything to him yet. Instead, you let the silence between you break with the soft sound of you unscrewing the water bottle cap and taking a small sip.

"Did Hercules check in on you?" Leon asks suddenly, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs, fingers interlaced.

Confusion furrows your brow. "About what?"

"The nausea," he points with his gaze at your stomach.

"He's not specified for diagnosis," you murmur, your eyes fixed on a spot on the floor, avoiding Leon's searching look.

"Then maybe we should call someone who is. Just to be sure everything's okay," he pauses for a second. "Better be safe than sorry."

"I'll go to my parents' hospital, first chance I'm out of here," you assure, slowly placing the container beside you on the bed.

Leon nods lightly, averting his gaze for a few seconds. The tension is palpable as neither of you make straight eye contact with each other. "Are you...holding up okay?"

Looking back at him, a bitter laugh threatens to escape your throat at his question. But you bury it, and decide to be straight up with your answer to him. "Carlos died. You really think I am?" What's the point of lying? After all, who could possibly be 'fine' after Carlos' devastating loss?

"I know..." he murmurs, nodding understandingly. "That night escalated...fast," His voice is soft, and soon he lifts his gaze to meet yours. "Wanna talk about it?" he asks gently, his eyes searching for any sign of your willingness to open up. But truth to be told, Leon is the last person you want to open up to. Who says, that he won't try to somehow twist this into being your fault?

So, you clear your throat, and lift your head to finally meet his gaze. "You know, Leon, I'm not in the mood to talk, and...i'd like to stay alone for a bit," your rejection comes a bit more aggressive than intended.

Leon stays quiet, processing perhaps your words until he sits up straight. "Right," he stoically says, taking the hint and standing up from the bed. You can notice some type of awkwardness now in his movements, as he walks towards the exit. His hand finds the doorknob, and as he opens the door, he turns to look at your direction. "If you need anything...call me or- come find me to my room."

You don't respond, as you continue your gaze onto your lap. For a few seconds, nothing comes from his side, until the sound of the door closing finally echoes, leaving you alone once more.

Exhaling deeply, your hand reaches for the boiled vegetables inside, and it makes you guilty now for being cold to him. You don't know how to act. You don't know what to do or feel anymore.

----

Wesker paces back and forth into his office. A foreign look of anxiousness plays on his face as he downs his drink, after the news Ares delivered to him. Raymond Carson, the only person who managed to get the copy of the Varium Plaga before the mansion collapsed has vanished, thanks to Sinfuls' plan- or perhaps...Ares' dumb decisions.

A soft knock comes from his door, making his steps abruptly halt. "Enter," Wesker's voice sounds more aggressive, slamming the glass on the soft leather surface. The door opens, one of his men standing with his rifle pressed against his chest.

"Sir, we have a problem."

"About?"

"...Him." Wesker's steps halt abruptly, though he doesn't turn to face him. "We don't know if he's gonna survive the week," the soldier reports to him, that has taken the temporary role of the guard. "We need to inject him."

Wesker takes a deep, subtle breath through his nostrils, and walks towards his desk, gently laying over the now empty glass on it.

"Head back to the room. I'll join you in a bit."

----

6:15 P.M.

The team has gathered inside the main room of the base. You, Chris, Leon, Piers, and Hercules are the only attentive members, while Luis is still recovering at the hospital, and Claire is still out of the picture.

Your eyes drift to Carlos' empty seat, and a wave of grief washes over you. It's the first meeting without him, the reality of his loss hitting you afresh. You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to hide the pain etched across your face.

"Alright everyone...thank you for joining..." Chris starts quietly, not meeting anyone's gaze. Without further a do, he jumps right into the reasons behind the meeting. "First, I'd like to update you.... considering Luis' health. As you can tell, he's still in the hospital, but I'm glad to report the surgery was successful. He's recovering under the watchful eye of a few of my most trusted operators. We expect him back with us tomorrow."

No one says anything. You don't say anything.

Chris clears his throat. "Uh..Claire is...with...Oliveira's..family? Friends? Inner circle..making sure any of them are exposed to danger. Thanks to Leon's help, Claire is also safe."

Still, no one utters a word. The silence is deafening.

Chris takes a deep breath, his next words clearly difficult for him. "Carlos was...a great soldier- a faithful man...and one of the most helpful members of our team. Sadly, fate had other plans for his life."

You close your eyes, feeling a tight knot in your stomach. "And for that, I promise you this - I will do everything, and I mean everything, to track down Carson, Umbrella, anyone who's involved in Carlos' murder." He looks each of you in the eye, his gaze burning with resolve. "For now... let's take a minute of silence. To respect and honor Carlos."

The next 60 seconds stretch out, feeling both eternal and fleeting. The only sound is the soft buzz of the room's lights. Everyone's heads are bowed, fingers laced together in silent prayer or remembrance. You keep your eyes closed, Carlos' face vivid in your mind's eye.

While you and Carlos weren't as close as he and Luis had been, the months of daily interaction, the casual conversations, and the few times you'd hung out together are enough to leave you utterly heartbroken at his loss. The injustice of it all burns within you. He didn't deserve this. He died unfairly.

Because. Of you.

That same sentence repeats over and over, having you take a deep breath and open your eyes.

However, the tranquility shatters as the doors open, and everyone, including your gaze fall upon the entrance, where Claire stands, an empty backpack clutched in her hand. You straighten in your chair, shocked by her appearance - dark circles under her eyes, her usually composed demeanor replaced by an air of dishevelment and grief. Gone is the composed, strong woman you knew.

Her eyes...meet no one else, other than her brother.

Leaning forward, Chris seems on the other hand to be relieved to see Claire back at the base. "Claire, everything okay with Carlos'-" he cuts off as he watches Claire ignoring him completely, walking past by the table, and making her way inside the bunker room.

Turning on your chair, you watch her helplessly as Claire makes her way inside. She's a complete mess...worse than everyone.

Gently pushing up from the chair, you hesitantly stand up and walk after her, while hearing Chris sigh in resignation.

Following her steps, you stand right outside the room where Carlos was staying. Peeking through the creaked opened doo, you watch her opening the closet, and starting to take his clothes out, that numb look still on her face.

Ever so gently, you push the door open, and step inside, before closing it behind you to offer some privacy. Just then, you stand right against the door, and watch her silently for a few quiet moments, hoping she'll say something.

Claire's move remain mechanic, not making a single attempt to turn around and look at you. She only neatly makes Carlos' clothes, and put them carefully inside the backpack. Until suddenly...her movements freeze.

You take the chance, and take a step forward. You can tell by her demeanor, she also had some close friendship with Carlos.

And right at that moment, Claire's shoulders jolt, a sniffle escapes her as you can hear the sounds of her crying. The only time you ever seen her cry, was for her parents' loss.

"Claire..." you finally utter, walking up to her and wrap your arm around her shoulder, trying your best to comfort her.

Her head faces the ceiling, and she closes her eyes, trying to compose herself. "Out of his six brothers...he only managed to meet again with the youngest before we all got into the bunker..." Claire murmurs, her voice hoarse from her crying. "Other than the team...he had no one else..."

She brokenly confesses, head dropping low. This is messed up. Worst thing...is that you don't know how to comfort her. How to help her, only allow your heart to crack even more.

You let your touch soothe her instead, rubbing soft circles behind her back.

She slowly shakes her head, sniffling slightly. Is she blaming herself like you do? Is she feeling the same regret?

"Before I left for the hotel..." she suddenly continues, her voice barely audible, making your head face her. "He saw me in the dress...said I was really beautiful..."

You frown lightly at her words, but don't interrupt her. "I told him to be careful," Claire says, a ghost of a smile flickering across her face. "And you know what he said? 'Oh, don't worry, I'm not gonna die so easily and leave you in a cold, cruel Carlos-less world'."

You both share a weak chuckle, tears blurring your vision as you hang on her every word.

"...Then before I left, he walked up to me...wished me good luck...and kissed me..."

Your weak smile transforms into shock, eyes widen at Claire's bold revelation. Claire....and Carlos...were a thing?

"For the first time. The very first..and the very last."

Holy shit...

"Oh, Claire..." your own voice cracks as you pull her into a tight embrace. She clings to you, her head resting on your shoulder as her tears soak into your shirt. You cradle the back of her head, sniffling softly.

And at that moment, she says it. "If I didn't choose Chris' plan..." she starts, but can't seem to finish the sentence.

You recognize the look in her eyes - yes. It's the same guilt and regret that's been eating away at you.

"Claire," you say gently, "This isn't your fault. None of us could have predicted..."

"It was predictable," she strictly cuts you off. "Chris knew that better than everyone else.."

Desperately now, you try to make her feel...a little better. "We'll get Carson, make him pay for what he did. The guys have a plan."

Claire laughs bitterly. "Saw how the other plan worked already...Even if you make him pay, Carlos won't come back, (y/n)."

The truth of her words feels like a slap across the face. Even if Carson meets the end he deserves, it won't bring Carlos back. Nothing and no one will.

Claire wipes her tears with the back of her hand, her gaze slowly returning to meet yours. "I need some time alone."

"Of course... of course," you quickly agree, stepping back to give her space.

"Tell Chris I'll be with Carlos' brother until tomorrow afternoon. I'm making sure he leaves the country safely."

You nod, wiping away your own tears. "Whatever you need, Claire. We're here for you."

With another step back, you turn heel and make your way to the exit. As you open the door you glance over at Claire once again, wanting to make sure she's okay. But you push yourself, understanding the need for her loneliness, and instead, you step out, giving her the time...and space she needs.

----

Tic,

Tap,

Tic,

Tap...

----

2:05 A.M.

As you exit the bathroom, your hand gently cradles your stomach, still reeling from the third round of vomit you have endured since nightfall. The sour taste still lingers down your throat, but the relief is bringing you more peacefulness.

Your steps as light as a feather, begin to retrace back to your bunker room, the dark and eerily quiet surroundings of the main room inside the base. Not that you really care and dare check on anyone, afraid your fragile serenity might shatter at the slightest interaction.

Getting back inside your room, you carry yourself back to bed. As you sink into the mattress, your body curls, turning your side to face Claire's empty bed. Your heart aches for the pain that she goes through. The image you had to face and the things you had to hear from Claire. You lived her lose her parents, her family, and now someone whose love she kept hidden. And that, because of you.

A scoff escapes your lips, more of a choked sob than anything else. And then, everything bursts, and tears start to flow. Hot and relentless. They run down your cheeks, soaking into your pillow as you're officially caught in this endless loop of grief and self-recrimination.

"Stop fucking crying, damn it," you whisper harshly, trying to compose yourself.

--

The distant sound of heavy steps breaks the silence - black tactical boots stepping cautiously into the deserted base. The figure stands still for a moment, observing the main room- the big, white table where it's littered with Umbrella documents but empty of any human presence. The base feels abandoned, not a whisper or movement to be heard. Just then, the boots resume to light thud against the floor, each step bringing them closer to the corridor leading to the bunker rooms.

As they approach, a faint screech of rubber on linoleum echoes softly through the empty hallways. The closer they get to a specific room, the unmistakable sound of muffled sniffling reaches their ears...hitching breaths of someone desperately trying to stifle their sobs.

Reaching outside of the targeted closed door, makes them halt for a moment, eyes looking down on the gleaming metal of the doorknob.

--

Your sobs gradually fade into small, quiet hiccups. With a monumental effort, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, reaching for the box of tissues on the nightstand. It becomes unexplainable how sensitive you became all of a sudden and how frequent these breakouts are happening. It's like you can't control it anymore.

--

A masculine hand slowly reaches the doorknob, finger tightening around the metal, but not turning it just yet.

--

You exhale, crumpling and tossing aside the used tissue. Sleep is something you begin to desperately need, but at the same time, you're unable to close an eye.

Soon enough, you hear the door open, and you lift your heavy head, eyes puffy from crying. There stands Leon, his silhouette in the dim light of the doorway. His normally confident posture is replaced by an unsteady sway, one hand clutching the doorknob as if it's the only thing keeping him upright. The sight of him catches you off guard, a small pang of surprise appearing through your fog of misery.

"Leon?"

He doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he just stands there, swaying slightly, his gaze never leaving your face. Just then, a subtle movement can be seen, his hand slowly drops from the doorknob, and you can see his lips glistening in the low light. His blonde hair is a mess, sticking up at odd angles as if he's been running his hands through it repeatedly. You also notice his holster is empty.

Suddenly, Leon starts moving towards you. His steps are uneven, but purposeful. Eyes continue to be locked on you as he approaches your bed. And then, the scent hits you before he even reaches you. The strong scent of Jack Daniels or other brands strikes almost immediately- becoming his permanent perfume, clinging onto his skin from his constant drinking sessions today.

"Yeah. T's me," he finally clarifies, the words tumbling out. As soon as he reaches you, his legs seem to give up, and he sinks to his knees before you, catching you by constant surprise.

Leon then looks up at you, his eyes struggling to focus. There's something in his gaze-a submission that you've never seen before. His attention zeroes in on the tear tracks on your cheeks, and his brow furrows in concern.

"You're cryin'?" his words slur together, barely coherent as he questions your tears. "Why you're crying?" You remain silent, unsure how to respond. Leon hums, his hand finds its way to your lap, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin. "I hate it when you're...fuckin' crying.."

Sobriety is far from his system; he's a total mess.

"You're drunk again?" you ask quietly, though the answer is painfully obvious.

Leon tiredly chuckles, followed by a weak denial. "M'not drunk," he murmurs, his gaze moving over your hands.

"You're drunk," you clarify in a whisper, only for your words to fall on deaf ears. You thought after that night at your place, he couldn't end up any worse. But seems you're wrong. He's far beyond the point of reason and talking properly. He's one step before passing out...

"Maybe 'bit," he admits, his fingers clumsily showing an amount that's clearly an understatement. "Jus' a little."

"And what do you want here? This is not your room, you know," you try to keep the distance Leon wanted after all, but seeing him like this breaks you. Because you still care for him. And you hate that. That despite everything, his pain still affects you.

But Leon is long lost in his own world now, letting his body - his actions speak louder than his slurring words as with surprising gentleness for his intoxicated state, he takes your hand in his, cold fingers, encircles your wrist, and guides your palm to his clean-shaved cheek, starting to nuzzle into your touch.

What is he doing...

"Your hand 's very...soft..." he murmurs, his deep voice barely above a whisper. His eyes flutter close, savoring the feel of your skin against his. "Soothing..."

Turning his head, he presses feather-light, yet sloppy kisses on your palm, while his hand moves up to the back of yours, slowly intertwining your fingers.

It's perhaps the first time you've seen Leon so unguarded, so straightforward with his words and actions. His vulnerability is raw...and exposed in a way you've never witnessed before.

Relying on the alcohol only proves to you how he's fucked up beyond repair, and you don't know how to feel about this. You're already messed up with Carlos' loss. Gnawed with self-blame. Right now, Leon's emotional baggage feels like too much to bear on top of your own pain.

"Leon..." you begin, only to be cut off.

"...Everytime you were jus'...touching me," he slurs slightly, looking up at you with unfocused eyes, "I feel...better. Good. Your scent..." His hands release yours, moving to your thighs as he nestles his head in your lap. "...I'm sorry..." he lowly says, his voice cracking a bit. "For everything. All the shit I've put you through." His hands roam slowly, sensually, from your calves up to the back of your knees before wrapping around them in a gentle embrace.

You can feel the goosebumps spreading on your skin like wildfire at the sensation. Hesitantly, you reach out to stroke his hair, hoping to offer some comfort in return. But as you look down at his profile, your fingers curl and slow their soothing motion, knowing that there's nothing you can do for him, or yourself...or even both of you.

"...you're slowly killing me, Leon." you brokenly confess.

Leon stays quiet...perhaps processing your words. Until, suddenly, he begins to do something odd- letting go of your legs, he removes his tactical gloves, tossing them carelessly aside. His now-bare hands return to your skin. He turns his head, pressing soft, almost reverent kisses to your thighs, seeming to overlook what you just said.

"I'll protect you," he begins to mumble nonsense- drunken promises against your skin. "With everything I got. Promise."

Your breath hitches, staying frozen in place at the contact. Leon's lips begin to trail up to your hips. From there, to your clothed stomach. Your hands move to the edge of the bed, clutching against the cheap mattress tightly as you don't react. You try not to react.

He's too out of it, clearly having no clue of what he's really doing.

His kisses grow more insistent, the wet sounds echoing in the quiet room. As he reaches your cleavage, you can hear-feel his breathing becoming heavier, more ragged. Your eyes gradually blink, every inch of you remaining still, though fighting the urge to wrap your arms around him and lose yourself in the moment.

Leon's plump flesh continues its trip to your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses that make your skin tingle. You stare straight ahead, welled-up eyes closing, letting the tears trickle as Leon continues his path upwards.

When his lips, reach their final destination: your lips, it feels like a hard slap of reality to your face. The taste of alcohol is overwhelming, burning your taste buds. His saliva is pure, neat whiskey.

For a moment, you actually try to protest, gently placing your palms against his chest to push him away, but his hands find a gentle yet firm hold on your wrists, his head pushing more forward.

You sniffle between kisses as Leon almost forces himself on you. He still doesn't take things further...yet. Not that you'll let him.

Pulling away, he looks right into your watery eyes for a few quiet seconds, his mouth almost quivering-as if he's telling you something with his silence.

Until his inherited thoughts, become words...

"I love you. Y'know that?" the confession tumbles out so casually as he hovers over you, coaxing you to lie down beneath him.

But that casual confession hits you like a ton of bricks. Your eyes widen in pure shock, swallowing thickly. "What did you just say?"

"I love you," he repeats over and over. "I fucking love you." The raw emotion in his voice threatens to break down your own defenses, making you want to believe him - to love him even more-

But the logical part of your brain screams in protest. No. No...These are drunken words, you remind yourself. If he truly loved you, you wouldn't be in this painful situation.

Leon adjusts his position, lowering his body until his chest presses against yours. "I love you s'much..." his lips brushing your neck before he groans and kisses it once more. The heat of his breath sends shivers through your whole body.

At your continued silence and lack of reaction, seem to penetrate Leon's mind, even through his foggy-drunken mind. His lips halt right against the pulse of your throat, before slowly dragging them up to your jaw. He pulls back, looking down at you with unfocused eyes.

"Do you feel anythin' for me anymore?" his unsteady hand cups your cheek. "Or I lost you for' good?"

You can't think clearly, dazed completely by the sorrow, grief, and weariness.

You shake your head weakly. "Of course I do..." you whisper. Another soft sniffle leaves you, another soft sniffle escapes you as you reach up to cup his cheeks, forcing him to steady his gaze back at you. "And I hate that."

"...I hate it too," Leon whispers back, face mere inches away from yours.

For a moment, you're both frozen, lost in each other's eyes. But barely after those seconds, it feels that you're driven by an invisible force, and you initiate another kiss. Leon immediately reacts, lying himself back on top of you.

Your nails dig into the collar of his shirt, both of you letting pent-up emotions and feelings spill shamelessly through this moment. Leon grunts lightly against your lips, his hands moving to hook your legs around his hips.

His mouth latches on your jaw, his fingers almost impatiently lower the sleeves of your top, bringing them down to your shoulders, ripping slightly the fabric, but too blinded by the need to care about it. His lips move up and bite on your neck as he shaky exhales, catching needy gasps escaping your lips.

--

"You really want to go for it?" Hercules asks as the doors of the base open, the two men stepping right inside as they continue their conversation.

"I'm not sure yet how this will work. I mean, with Raymond on the run," Piers admits as he exhales deeply, expressing his conflict, their steps slowing down as they reach the main room. "What do you think?"

"I'm just a doctor here," Hercules teases lightly, causing Piers to sigh. "Okay, I'm gonna be honest with you. I don't know if searching for Carson now will help us."

"So what's your bright idea then?"

"I'm not claiming to have all the answers," Hercules admits, holding up his hands. "But something in my gut tells me we will end up wasting time. We need to focus elsewhere, but keep a close eye on Raymond."

Piers squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't know- shit...Give me a break, I'm only 26."

Hercules chuckles lightly. "Alright, conversation over. Message received," he says, injecting a hint of humor into his tone. "Anyway, I'm calling it a night. Today was a rough one," he adds as he watch Piers gathering up the Umbrella folders scattered across the table.

"Agreed. We'll regroup in the morning," Piers nods, equal fatigue evident in his voice.

"Okay. Sleep well," Hercules lastly says, heading towards the corridor that lead to the bunker rooms.

As he walks down the dimly lit hallway, an unexpected sound catches his attention. Hercules slows his pace, coming to a halt outside one of the rooms. Specifically the girls' room. His eyebrow arches in curiosity as he picks up on muffled noises from behind the closed door.

Instinctively, he takes a quiet step closer, his hand hovering over the door knob. The sounds become clearer-sighs, soft moans, and the unmistakable wet sounds of kissing. Hercules' gaze darts to the open door of the room he shares with Leon, finding it unsurprisingly empty.

It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together...

As the realization strikes, Hercules takes a step back, his brow furrowing and his hands unconsciously clenching into fists, until without wishing to hear anything further, he leaves, making his way back to his own room.

--

A quiet moan escapes you, mixed with discomfort and an undeniable desire to have Leon. Because you missed his touch. His lips. His scent on your skin.

But you also don't want to take advantage of the situation. From the time Leon is so vulnerable, you can tell that he's really got no clue of what he's doing.

Leon's low, animalistic growl vibrates against your neck as he sucks hungrily at your skin. One hand reaches the back of your head, holding you in place. His kisses continue to grow more desperate-messier, wetter as he clumsily begins to grind his hips against you, igniting a fire you're desperately trying to extinguish.

Suddenly, your eyes snap open the moment you hear the metallic clink of his belt on his jeans. Your eyes lightly lower to see Leon's hand fumbling against it, struggling to undo it.

"No," you whisper, pressing your palms against his chest to create some distance. "What are you doing?"

"I want you t' feel good. Make you," he slurs, glancing down at his half-undone belt. "C'mon....Help me get it off."

With a gentle but firm push, you guide Leon off of you, and help him roll onto his back on the bed. What a goddamn mess.

"I'm gonna help you sleep instead. You're completely wasted, Leon," you whisper as you get off from the bed, trying to get it together, by fixing your now disheveled condition...and the wetness Leon has created with his touch.

Not wasting any time, you begin to unlace his boots, in order to make him comfortable. As you tug them off, Leon watches you through heavy-lidded eyes, propped up on his elbows. Surprisingly, he doesn't protest, despite the obvious bulge straining against his jeans.

With great effort, you make him lie down on your bed, moving the covers from under him tucking him in, while his drunken gaze never leaves your movements.

Meeting his eyes, your expression softens with understanding. "Alright...You're gonna...close your eyes now, and try to sleep. Okay?"

Leon responds with a noncommittal hum, his eyes already starting to lower.

Your head turns back to Claire's empty behind. There's definitely no way that she'll be back during the night, so perhaps sleeping on her bed for the night instead is better.

But just as you're standing back on your feet to walk over the other bed, Leon's hand locks firmly around your forearm, halting further steps.

"Sleep with me," he requests boldly, through the ongoing booze. "Jus' like that night...your place... my place."

For a moment, you find yourself hesitating, because you really don't want Leon to...perhaps try and do anything once you join him to bed again. Then again, Leon looks extremely tired, it is only maybe a matter of time till he passes out.

"Okay..."

At your words, Leon's grip loosens. He shifts unhurriedly like a turtle to make room, pushing the covers aside in a clumsy invitation.

Slowly, you join his side and his hand moves over to the covers, tucking you with unsteady moves right by his side. His head lies beside yours, arm draping over your waist, pulling your back right against his chest. It ends, with a soft, lingering kiss against the back of your shoulder.

Your skin carries the scent of the alcohol, along with the room. It's extremely unpleasant, and nagging smell, but eventually you get used to it.

Outside, you can hear the strong wind and heavy rain that has erupted since midnight, and with Leon's warm body against yours, his palm resting protectively over your stomach, you're finally able to get some sleep.

Even though it's not enough.

----

The morning has arrived, and you find yourself waking up in the position you 'fell asleep'. As your senses sharpen, you become aware of a warm presence right behind you. Leon's muscular chest is pressed firmly against your back, his arm still draped loosely over your waist. His breath, still tainted with the lingering scent of alcohol, tickles the nape of your neck.

Carefully, you disentangle yourself from him and the sheets as quietly as possible in order to not disturb his sleep. As you finally manage to get off from the bed, you can feel every single bone in your body cracking.

"Jesus Christ.." follows with a soft, pained groan escaping your lips as you stretch your arms above your head. It surely would be a goddamn lie if you manage to sleep last night.

Reaching for your phone onto the desk, you check the time. Though it appears to be almost 11, you decide to let Leon sleep as much as he can, before the hangover will strike and drain him like a bitch.

Padding softly across the room, you approach the cramped closet you share with Claire. The door creaks slightly as you open it, making you wince and shoot a worried look back at Leon. He doesn't stir. Relieved, you turn back to the task at hand: finding some fresh clothes to replace your slightly ripped and whiskey-scented outfit.

However, that's when you catch a glimpse of a dark spot adorning the left side of your neck in the small mirror attached to the inside of the closet door. "What the fuck?" you mutter, leaning in closer for a clearer look. There, a dark red with a trace of purple mark, lingers persistently on your skin. "Goddamn it..." you whisper, your finger gently tracing the outline of the hickey Leon had most likely left behind.

Sighing heavily, you peel off your torn top, tossing it unceremoniously to the floor. Your eyes scan the hangers, searching for something-anything-that might cover up this embarrassing love bite. After a moment of hopeless searching, your hand lands on a plain, high-necked shirt.

Before changing, you can't help but glance back at Leon's sleeping form. His face is peaceful after his messy state. But also, you can't shake the memory of his behavior last night, his words echoing in your head. That...'I love you'.

Were those drunken words reflecting sober thoughts?

Lost in thought, you start to pull the clean shirt over your head. Suddenly, a deep, pained grunt from behind makes you jerk slightly.

"Shit..." Leon groans, and you quickly pull down your shirt.

Clearing your throat, you crack your fingers nervously. "Good morning,"

Leon's bleary eyes struggle to focus on you, his brow furrowed in confusion and discomfort. "(Y/n)?" he croaks, his voice rough from sleep and last night's drinking. "What am I-" he starts, but cuts himself off with a sharp hiss, his hand flying to his temple. "What am I doing in your room?"

"You were too drunk to find yours, I suppose."

Another grunt rumbles from his chest as Leon slowly pushes himself into a sitting position. "Fuck..." weakly, he raises his head to look up at you. "Sorry for this.."

You turn back to the closet, gently closing it to buy yourself a moment to compose your thoughts. "Don't worry, got used to it already..." you mutter mostly to yourself. "Do you remember anything from last night?"

"No...nothing at all," his gaze seems thoughtful, as if he's like desperate to remember what might he have said last night. "So... hope I didn't become a pain in the ass."

Your hand unconsciously moves to your neck, fingers brushing over the spot where his mark lies hidden beneath your shirt. Those words resurface again in your head. The memory sends a shiver down your spine, but you push it aside. Clearing your throat, you force a weak smile. "You're fine...don't worry."

There's no reason to tell him about it. Just take care of it, and get over it. No need to... make things awkward once more.

----

11:12 A.M.

"That sounds good," Hercules agrees in a murmur as he nods in agreement while he and Chris pore over the papers across the desk.

Chris leans back in his chair, the leather creaking softly under his weight. A wry smile plays at the corners of his lips as he says, "Never thought I'd say this... but I'm glad you're taking my side, at least, Hercules."

"Well, you're the leader after all," Hercules says, straightening up. "Have to stick to your method, no matter what is,"

Chris' expression drops as he weakly shakes his head. "And Piers still doesn't want to listen."

The conversation is abruptly interrupted by the soft whoosh of the automatic doors sliding open. There stands Piers, right at the doorway, a white envelope clutched in his hand. His eyes dart between Chris and Hercules, a storm of unreadable emotions seeking through his features. For a moment, he doesn't move at all.

Chris and Hercules move their gaze back to where Piers is, and Chris raises an eyebrow, noting Piers' weird stance.

"Aren't you gonna get in?" Hercules asks. Piers's head drops low for a moment, glancing at the opened envelope before he finally enters with slow, confident steps.

"What's that?" Chris asks cautiously, his eyes never leaving the envelope.

Piers' response comes out calm, but there's an undeniable impatience in his voice, like a pot about to boil over. "Call in for a meeting."

Chris dismisses the urgency in Piers' tone, swiveling his chair back to face the desk. "We'll call in later when the rest of the-"

"Call a damn meeting now!" Piers suddenly shouts. The outburst echoes in the small room, causing both Chris and Hercules to start in surprise.

Chris's face hardens, his jaw clenching as he turns his attention to Hercules. "Hercules, call the others," he orders, his tone brooking no argument.

With a curt nod, Hercules strides purposefully towards the door, his footsteps echoing in the sudden silence as he heads for the bunker rooms to summon the rest of the team for this urgent meeting.

--

"Was that Piers?" you ask confused, your head turning to the closed door as Leon shrugs his shoulders.

"Sounded like him," he replies weakly.

His hoarse voice makes your attention return to him, your fingers gently toy with each other, taking in his disheveled appearance. Your fingers intertwine nervously as you watch him carefully adjust his position on the bed. "Feeling better?" you quietly ask and Leon nods.

He takes another long swig of the water bottle you offered him earlier, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "Getting there," he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Before either of you can say more, a gentle knock interrupts the moment. The door swings open, revealing Hercules' tall figure. His eyes sweep the room, moving from you to Leon...and oh boy doesn't it feel awkward the moment you see him, taking in both your states.

"Uh, good morning Hercules-"

"Piers calls in for a meeting," he interrupts with an uncharacteristic coldness settling over his features.

Leon lifts his gaze, and both of you exchange eye contact, before you address Hercules. "What for?"

"Just come," Hercules responds dryly. Without waiting for a reply, he closes the door behind him. The soft slam makes Leon wince, his hangover clearly still affecting him.

Turning back to Leon, you find him already on his feet. He's adjusting his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles from sleeping in it. His movements are measured, careful, as he reaches for his tactical gloves that were scattered right under the bed.

This is weird. Too weird. Your eyes linger at the door thoughtfully. Why does Piers want to call in a meeting without Claire and Luis?

Still, there's only one way to find out what's going on.

--

Opening the door, you and Leon enter the main room, and notice the tense silence between the present members. Hercules is leaning against the table, arms crossed, Chris is still seated to his seat, and Piers standing in the center, a white envelope in his hands. His face carries caution. Extreme caution. You don't know how to explain it - As if everyone is a suspect for murder.

"What's going on?" you ask confused, stepping beside Leon. Your eyes dart around the room, eventually landing on Piers. He's clutching something tightly in his hand. Is it a file? A document? Whatever it is, it seems to have everyone on the edge.

"Well, Piers. Now that we're all here, minus a few faces, how about you enlighten us on why you called this hush-hush meeting?" Chris' voice cuts through the tension, tone filled with sarcasm.

Piers doesn't utter a word. Instead, he methodically removes the piece of paper from an envelope, unfolding it with painstaking care, his gaze fixates on its contents. Hah...the last time a letter was brought here, almost got you killed.

Finally, Piers clears his throat and begins to read aloud:

"Dear Sinfuls, we hope this letter finds you well. Especially alive. We're reaching out to express our deepest condolences to Carlos Oliveira's family and friends. May he finally rest in peace. With much appreciation, Umbrella Corporation."

Your eyes widen in shock, and a chill races down your spine. How the hell do they know about Carlos' pass, since no one, even B.S.A.A. doesn't know about it? Only the team-

"P.S.," Piers continues, his voice growing colder. "We regret to inform you that 'Nathan Carter' is now beyond your reach."

...They know about Carson too. And they mock you about it. What the fuck is going on?

Chris and Leon look with the same look for shock right into their faces. No one - absolutely no one - could have anticipated this - Umbrella itself sending a letter to the 'secretive' base beneath the B.S.A.A.'s headquarters.

Chris is the first to break the stunned silence, his voice tense, barely containing himself from breaking down. "How in the hell do they know we're after Raymond? How do they know his name?"

"And how the fuck do they know about Carlos?" Leon asks next, matching Chris' anger.

The questions hang in the air, heavy and unanswered.

"You tell me," Piers responds, his voice unnaturally calm, yet extremely cold. He folds the paper with deliberate slowness, the creases crisp and sharp. You can hear it in the tone of his voice...see it in his movements. He's like a ticking bomb, ready to explode any moment.

"The letter about Rosewood...the ambush, bringing us to Cuba-" the realization begins to creep in. "From the moment they mentioned Carlos and Carson, it's clear they've known everything since this team was formed," he rasps, his face hardening. Without warning, he slams the paper onto the table, making you jump. "And all of this because we have a fucking mole on the team!"

The bomb resonates heavily inside the main room. Before anyone can react to Piers' bold and extremely weighty accusation, something unexpected happens: Hercules and Leon draw their weapons at the same time, aiming directly at each other. You stumble backwards, trying to process the sudden escalation.

"What the hell are you both doing?!" Chris asks, raising his voice, pushing off from his heat, his chair clattering to the floor behind him.

Neither of them say anything. Only a slow smirk forms on Hercules' face in response. "Why are you pointing your gun at me, Leon?" he taunts, eyes pinned right on Leon.

"For the same reason as you," Leon retorts, his voice cold as ice. His eyes betray...hatred towards him. You're afraid that Leon might just straight up shoot at Hercules. Even though, it's usually unlike him.

Hercules lets out a dark chuckle. "Bold of you to assume I'm the mole, just because I never met your eye,"

"Ordering around the first day you got here, then leaving a member of the team behind so easily is a reason enough to not think so," Leon spits out, his jaw clenching tightly. "Wanna start explaining now instead on how long have you been Umbrella's lapdog?"

Hercules follows with a scoff. "You're a goodamn fool, Kennedy, if you really think I'm the traitor."

"I don't think. I know you are."

"Put your damn guns down now!" Chris commands, but neither of them makes the move. Neither of them even flinch. His words pass on deaf ears as the two men don't even acknowledge him.

You and Piers stand silent, not knowing how to handle this. It escalated so quickly. Piers doesn't take the matter into his own hands. He leaves the situation right to them. As if he knows about something...

"I'm a military doctor, Leon. Trained enough that if I wanted to trick you, I'd do it with great efficiency. But here's the thing about traitors," he pauses, his eyes flicking briefly to you, then Chris and then Piers before settling back on Leon. "They're usually the ones you least expect. That's what makes them so effective. No one on the team suspects a thing. But there's always a tiny slip-up in the end."

With that, the barrel of Hercules' silver pistol pivots torturously slowly, until it aims right at you. "Ain't that right, sweetheart?"

You freeze, standing right at your spot, not daring to make a single movement. You can't help but look at him stunned, and pang of pure disappointment. After everything - the terrible conditions in the bunker, the conversation, and the proximity you developed with him... Hercules turns out to be nothing more than a snake in the grass.

Maybe Leon was really right after all, and you didn't listen-

Hercules is just one sneaky son of a bitch.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Leon snarls as he roughly pulls you behind him protectively, shielding you with his body.

"I'm trying to get your girlfriend to explain herself. Maybe Ms. (y/n) can...shed some light on the situation, hm?" Hercules says mockingly, his eyes fixed on you.

You can't let him disrespect you like that. You won't allow it.

"You truly have some goddamn nerve to ask me to explain myself when I haven't done anything but offer my help!" you speak up, stepping out from behind Leon.

"Oh, I'm sure you've been very helpful, especially to our little agent here," Hercules sneers, returning his gaze to Leon. "Heard that very well, last night."

The blunt implication in his words makes your cheeks burn, a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort, realizing that he might have heard your exchange with Leon last night while he was drunk...

"What are you talking about, Hercules?" Chris interjects, stepping forward, but Hercules's sole attention remains focused on Leon.

"Tell me, Chris. Why is it that (y/n) is the one being 'watched' by Umbrella when Leon, you, and Piers are the bigger targets?" Hercules questions, his eyes piercing as he lays out his accusations.

Leon starts to respond to your defense, without a second thought. "Because she's the weakest member among us-"

"How by the time she stayed at your 'top-security and fortress' apartment, Umbrella ambushed you?" Hercules sharply cuts him off. "...how...was she the one that insisted on joining us on the latest mission? Found Carlos and didn't communicate with anyone until you found them," Hercules addresses Leon next, gaze still fixed on Leon and aimed at you.

Your eyes immediately turn to find Leon, searching his face for any sign that he sees through Hercules' manipulation. But his expression is unreadable, a mask of stone that gives nothing away. Once more, you can't figure out what's going on in his head right now. All you wish is that Leon sees through Hercules' bullshit.

Hercules relentlessly continues to press. "Most importantly...how has someone so 'weak' and 'inexperienced' like (y/n), managed to survive everything so far? Especially after Cuba? Don't tell me it's just luck."

"She might have survived, but you have no fucking clue what we went through in there. What she had to witness because of your irresponsible thinking!" Leon raises his voice, his gun jerking weakly right at him.

Hercules chuckles bitterly, glancing around at Chris and Piers who look at each other, before turning back to Leon. "Look at you. She's dragging you by your dick and you follow like a lost dog." His gaze locks with yours, cold and merciless. "You heard Carlos' last words: don't trust...her."

"Shut up," Leon growls, his finger hovering over the trigger.

"Face it, Leon. You were nothing but a pawn. Turn her to your side, so she can perhaps take you to Umbrella. Have you ever thought of that?"

The silence that follows is suffocating. You stand there, mouth agape as your mind can't seem to comprehend what you keep on hearing from Hercules' mouth. Not hear only...but being accused of. After everything you've endured for Chris - this team, Hercules comes here to manipulate your actions as evil. Turn you against them.

Every ounce of pity, guilt, and sympathy is fading from your face. Your features darken. Hardening in disgust, and frustration. Frustration because you lose your rights so unfairly.

"You're one goddamn piece of shit for even saying all this without valid evidence!" you shout at him, unable to contain your rage any longer.

"You need valid evidence?" suddenly, he steps backwards, reaching for the drawer on the shelf. Retrieving one file, he tosses it onto the table, his gun still pointed at you no matter what. "Explain how your father...was working for Umbrella."

...

"What?"

"What-?" Chris and Leon echo simultaneously, as Piers lunges for the papers, scanning them frantically. A momentary, heavy silence hangs in the air, the tension is palpable as everyone- including you, stand with a holding breath.

Piers' face suddenly drops as he looks up at you. His expression only confirms Hercules' nonsense.

"Where did you get this?" Piers demands as he turns to him, gesturing at the document in his hands.

"In Umbrella's intel, you've gathered. This morning. Her last name popped right in, some guy named Vector," Hercules responds, shifting to a professional manner.

This can't be true. Your father, no matter how much he chased wealth, he'd never work for a corporation like that- your mother herself told you that they worked for the Redfields-...

Unless your father worked for Umbrella, way before he met your mother. You don't know what to speculate anymore.

"Is that enough for you figure out what's really going on?"

"You got to say something? Speak up, Hercules." You challenge him, with the tiny patience that's left in you.

"I thought it was obvious already on what I wanted to say," he clears his throat mockingly. "I'm gonna be straight up then. I'm saying that you are the traitor, (y/n), and you probably told Raymond we were going to surround him, making him kill Carlos and shoot Luis."

"You can't be serious," you laugh in disbelief.

"Put the gun down, Hercules," Piers finally intervenes, pointing slowly his own pistol at Hercules. "Put. It. Down."

Your head momentarily turns to Chris, who suddenly has gone silent. And it worries you. Because Chris is not on his greatest mind after what happened. You only hope now he's not taking Hercules' side.

"Chris? What do you have to say for all this?" You ask with a hint of anguish in your face. "You know me. My parents- my family. You know they worked for your parents- You know I wouldn't do anything like that, right?" you stir everything together in raw despair. "Don't tell me you believe Hercules over me."

He looks at you....cautiously.

"...And what about those documents?" he utters quietly, seeming to shift and take a slight more guarding stance towards you. "

"They're not real. They're not!" you insist, your voice cracking. "...and even if my dad actually had to do with something like this, I'd never support it!"

Chris? He remains silent, averting his gaze from you in guilt.

"Say something for fuck's sake!" your eyes dart frantically between Leon and Piers. "Anything!"

This silence...those suspicious glares...becomes the last. Fucking. Straw.

Taking a step backwards, you shake your head lightly, feeling all their looks pinned upon you as if you're some kind of a criminal. You. YOU?

You take a stumbling step back, shaking your head in disbelief. Leon sighs heavily, lowering his weapon as he stares at the floor. He doesn't pick your side from the moment Hercules showed those documents - claiming all these things about your father.

Leon too...?

"...After almost losing my life twice for joining this sick shit, you really believe I could be capable of something like that?" you whisper, mostly asserting Chris. A bitter scoff escapes your lips as you take another step back. "...Then there's no place for me to stay here any longer," you respond unfamiliarly calmly, striding towards the small bunker room to start gathering your stuff.

All of them are assholes. Neither of them deserves your snapping. You're done. Fucking. Done.

As you enter the cramped room, you yank your bag out from under the bed, tossing it onto the thin mattress with more force than necessary. The closet door creaks in protest as you wrench it open, grabbing fistfuls of clothes and shoving them into the bag. The walls seem to close in around you, the air growing thick and suffocating. You need to get out of here. Now.

The stillness outside is broken by approaching footsteps. You ignore them, focusing on your task with single-minded determination.

Leon appears in the doorway, his brows furrowing as he takes in the scene. "What are you doing?"

"Leaving," you snap, not bothering to look at him.

"It's not safe-"

"So?" you interrupt rudely sharply, whirling around in Leon's direction. "I'm the goddamn mole of the team who secretly works for Umbrella, remember?" the sarcasm drips from your tongue, expressing the anger and hurt through your voice. "And you apparently...believe Hercules over me as well. Don't you?"

Leon sighs heavily, running a hand over his face. "It's not...-" he starts, fumbling for words. "Those papers-"

Your face drops, another blow of betrayal catching you at the lack of Leon's response. You hands fall loose to your sides as you look at Leon's face...Of all people, you never thought he'd be the one to doubt you.

Everything falls down. Crumbles.

"I opened up my fucking heart to you, Leon, more than once," you swallow thickly, fighting back tears. "I trusted you with my life. More than once! I gave you...my love for fuck sake!"

And at that moment, you feel something inside you shatter.

"You know what, Leon? Fuck you," you spit out, turning back to your packing.

Leon's jaw clenches, watching you helplessly pack your things. The more you feel his presence, the more angry and stupid you begin to feel. "I can't believe..." you mumble, shoving your stuff inside. "I almost gave up my damn dream for your ass,"

"...What?" he finally asks, feeling his eyes now pinned on you.

"Yeah, you heard me," you say, your laugh bitter and mirthless. "I was actually considering giving up on Sweden and stay here for you. How stupid is that?" You turn to face him with an icy stare. "But you know what? You've just made it so much easier. I'm leaving. I'm getting away from all this bullshit!"

As you reach for your bag, something in Leon snaps. His jaw clenches as he lunges forward, grabbing the unzipped bag, his hand closing around the handle just as yours does. "You're not going anywhere-"

"Let it go-!"

But Leon doesn't listen. In a swift move, he yanks the bag from your grasp, tossing it aside before grabbing your arm. His hold is firm, almost bruising...another side of him you've never seen before. "We will talk about this," suddenly, he pulls you closer to him. "I don't want you to leave- I want you here, with me..." his voice breaks, becoming a weak, pleading whisper as his thumbs caress the sides of your jaw with heartbreaking tenderness.

That touch...his touch that once was enough to make you melt, now only fuels your anger. You shove his hands away, stepping back. "But I don't want to be here for another second. We're done, Leon."

Zipping with forceful moves, you grab your bag and stride straight to the exit of the bunker room...leaving Leon behind.

--

The moment you step out to the main room, you see that Hercules is no longer in there. Only Chris, facing away from everyone else, and Piers' eyes meeting you.

"(y/n), stay, and let's talk about this," Piers urges, pushing away from the table he's leaning on. But you completely ignore him. "You can't just leave like that-"

"I have no shit to talk about," you respond as you stride towards the exit, without sparing them a single glance.

"(y/n)-!"

"Let her go, Piers," is what you last hear from Chris before you slam your hand against the scanner. The doors open and you leave, without looking back.

Your footsteps echo heavily as you see the elevator at the end of the grey hallway, only a few meters away. Upon reaching finally, and just as you reach for the call button, the doors slide open, revealing Luis. The moment he lifts his head and look at you, you can see his expression shifting to surprise.

"Senorita..." he greets you, his eyes widening as both of you absorb eachother's state. Your eyes move down to see his casted leg, body supported by crutches, before returning to his flustered face. "Where are you taking the bag?"

"Home," you reply curtly.

"Did it miss it?" Luis asks, attempting an extremely weak joke. Your stony expression doesn't waver, and he shifts uncomfortably. "That's certainly a way for a 'welcome back' welcoming."

You sigh impatiently. "What do you want, Luis?"

"Tell me what's going on, eh?" he asks, stepping out of the elevator to let the doors close behind him.

"What's gone on the past two days isn't enough for you already?"

"I'm talking about you being all grumpy with the bag in your hand,"

You look down at your bag, before back at Luis. "I'm leaving the team, Luis."

Luis' brows twitch in surprise. "What? Why?"

"Ask our amazing for-shit leader, Chris, and his new maggot, Hercules," you spit out sarcastically, catching Luis confused gaze to your sudden explosion. And rightfully so, since he's not aware of what happened moments ago.

"Wait-"

"It's been almost a year, Luis," you cut him off, snapping right at him. "Almost a fucking year! Only to be accused with such heavy allegations!"

"Por favor, senorita, I can barely understand what you're talking about," he says, lifting his hands in surrender.

"I'm sorry," your anger deflates slightly as you glance back at his recovering leg. "Do you need help?" you ask in a softer tone, and Luis slowly shakes his head.

"I'm fine. But apparently, you're not," he leans in to study your face. "Talk to me, senorita. What happened in the base?"

Without spending more time, you begin to tell him. "Long story short- Umbrella....sent a letter to the H.Q. It seems they knew that we were after Raymond and about Carlos' death. And that....asshole Hercules believes I'm a rat, working for the corporation! Handed some buried files about my dad working for them in the past too...One thing led to another, and even Chris- Leon ended up believing him over me," you look down at your bag. "So, I'm making it easier for them and leave," your jaw clenches and you tightly shake your head. "Chris has known my family all his life. Then he suddenly chooses someone he's barely know!"

Luis tries to raise his hands to your shoulders, trying to calm you down. "Aye, aye calmado..." he glances behind him at the elevator, and jerks his head towards that direction. "Come, take a walk with me, clear your mind," he offers gently. "You're too angry now and you take hasty choices."

He begins to slowly turn, but you stay rooted to your spot. "It's not a hasty choice. I've made up my mind."

Luis stops once again, and turns back around to face you. "Alright then. Just a five-minute walk. If you insist on leaving, I won't stop you," he insists in a gentle tone.

You sigh, relenting. "What about your leg?"

Luis looks down at his cast and chuckles softly. "I survived worse."

"...Okay then," you mutter, before you press the button of the elevator. The doors instantly open and you with Luis step inside.

----

Tap, tap, tap, tap...

----

"Are you sure you don't need any help walking?" you ask with an outstretched arm, ready to offer support at any moment. Your eyes dart between Luis and his crutches as you both inch your way towards the exit, moving at a snail's pace.

Luis lets out a pained chuckle, adjusting his crutches. "Ah... always the caregiver, you are," he says with a hint of amusement. "Don't worry, I got it. I promise."

You gently nod, allowing Luis to manage on his own. After what feels like an eternity, you finally step out the entry of the B.S.A.A. building. Your eyes scan the familiar surroundings - the guards, and the service cars surrounding the block.

The cool breeze hits you, and the scent from the wettened ground fills your nostrils. The grey sky looms above you, the aftermath of last night's heavy storm. You hoist your bag onto your shoulder as you continue to patiently follow Luis' pace.

"You know, Senorita," he suddenly breaks the silence with an efforting grunt, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "I couldn't help but notice how shaken up you were after what happened. When you first joined us, you were practically invisible. But today? Today you stood tall, told everyone to go fuck themselves, and walked right out. That's quite the transformation."

He's not wrong. This is exactly what you said. And you actually, don't regret it a bit. "I guess this is what pent-up frustration over all those months does to people. The accusations were the icing on the cake..." Carlos' face re-enters your mind, his last moments alive. "This whole shit just keeps getting worse."

"Ain't that the truth..." Luis murmurs, his playful demeanor has completely vanished. "Those days at the hospital, Carlos was the only one I was thinking about."

You can hear the raw pain in Luis' voice as he talks about him. He was one of the people that was also close to Carlos. And maybe...Luis feels his own type of blame inside. It mirrors your own all too well.

"What did really happened that night?" you ask softly, letting your curiosity get the best of you.

"Carson was...he wasn't right in the head when we confronted him. Carlos swore he had it under control, and told me to call for some of the guys. But Carson... he was convinced for some reason that we were going to take him straight to Umbrella. I rushed for the exit, and then in all of a sudden... bang," Luis' gaze is to be frozen ahead, seeming to recall with every vivid detail what happened. "When I turned around, the bastard tried to take me out too. Caught me in the leg as I hit the floor."

"That asshole..." you mutter through gritted teeth. Hatred and trouble courses through your veins. "First Carlos dies...now we find out there's a traitor into the team. We're falling apart.." Gently, you finally decide to ask Luis the critical question, "You reckon I might be the mole of the team?"

Luis chuckles softly, "Is this a trick question, to test my loyalty to you?"

"I just want to know if anyone's at my side at this point."

"...You're too pure for that kind of dirty work, Senorita," he responds sincerely.

A mocking chuckle leaves you. "After everything I've seen these past few months? I don't think 'pure' is the word I'd use."

Luis weakly laughs. "Well, life can become unpredictable. One minute everything's unicorns and rainbows, the next..." his face drops. "One minute is all it took for Carlos to leave us behind."

"It still doesn't feel real," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "I mean- we weren't best friends or anything, but...shit, Luis, I'm truly devastated. And it's not just the guilt, it's... I don't even know how to explain it."

As you finally reach the sidewalk, you look around, not really thoughtful of how you can leave, since your car is still untouched at your home.

"Shit...forgot about that."

"What's wrong?" Luis asks, before he joins your side, facing the same view. "Ah, I see. Why don't you hitch a ride with one of the security boys? Better safe than sorry, right?" he gestures towards a nearby service car.

"Not a bad idea. Taxis are about as common as unicorns around here," you sigh, turning to face Luis. "Thanks for listening. It surely made me feel a little bit better."

"And are you still sure you want to leave?" Luis asks, seeming to try to make you stay.

"Yeah, I am. My mind's made up, Luis," you say, eyeing the car. "This is where it all ends."

"If that's what you want," Luis murmurs, disappointment coloring his words. "At least let me walk you to the car."

The two of you make your way towards the B.S.A.A. service vehicle, two guards already seated inside.

"What are you planning to do now?" Luis asks softly, breaking the silence once more.

"First, I'm gonna head to my parents' place...time for my dad and I...to have a little chat about his alleged connections to Umbrella. Then....I'm off to Sweden. But not only for my studies. But for good."

"...And what about Leon?" Your face hardens the moment you hear his name. You pause mid-step, fixing Luis with a steely gaze.

"Leon now belongs to the past. I tried to be understanding all this time, but I won't allow him to even be cautious of me after everything we-...I-..." your words trail, wishing to not share anything more personal about Leon to Luis. "Never mind.."

Finally reaching the car, Luis offers and opens the door for you to enter. Even in his condition, he stays the gentleman, the charmer he always was.

Before sliding in, you hesitate, one hand on the car door. "Luis, I... thank you. For..." The words die on your tongue, gratitude mixing with confusion. "This?..."

Instead, Luis responds, "No problem. Take care, Senorita. Take care of yourself out there."

"Will do," you tenderly say with a weak smile, before finally getting inside the car.

As Luis gently shuts the door, you adjust your bag on the backseat before turning to the driver. "Plover Street, please," you request, settling your bag on your lap. Through the window, you can see Luis still standing there, watching, waiting for you to leave safely.

Time to confront your father for the last time.

The driver nods, one hand on his earpiece. "Sir, we got her."

Wait. What?

Your brow furrows as you stare at the driver, those three words setting off alarm bells in your head. Something's very, very fucking wrong.

Your hand instinctively flies to the door handle, but a resolute click of the locks engaging stops you cold. Your eyes widen in horror as the driver's head turns, the all-too-familiar logo adorns his earpiece.

Umbrella.

"No....no..." you whisper in panic.

Your heart races fast enough to visibly thunder against your clothed chest. You whip around to face Luis, and start to desperately pound right on the window. "Luis help! They set us up!"

But... Luis makes no move to save you...He just stands there, staring at you through the glass, his face a mask of regret and guilt.

"I'm sorry, (y/n)..."

----

Had to cut off some scenes again because as usual, the chapter would be endless. Have a great and lovely day, and enjoy your summer! <3