𝓛𝓮𝓸𝓷 𝓚𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓭𝔂| ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇꜱ ʙᴏᴏᴋ 4

A Coffin For Leon S. Kennedy

AN: This imagine does mention themes of depression and suicidal thoughts. Please take caution when reading!
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The first time I find out Leon's not coping as well as he's been telling me is when I visit his apartment one rainy night. The storm drenches me from head to toe as I walk from my own home to my boyfriend's. I'm not one for believing in spiritual things, but for some reason tonight I have the nagging feeling to check up on him. Something in my gut tells me that the storm isn't the only thing destructing tonight.

I hammer my fist on the door to Leon's shabby apartment. After Raccoon City a couple months ago the poor man lost everything, and in return for getting out alive and providing valuable information the government thanked him by stowing him away in some run down, dank and depressive apartment that's got more leaks than a tea strainer. I sigh, feeling more urgent as I wait and wait for Leon to reply. When nothing happens, I knock harder, a sob threatening to choke me as I keep going and going, hoping I'm not too late.

I'm about to run down the hall and pull the fire alarm in hopes that it actually works when Leon's door opens, revealing him with bloodshot eyes, swaying on his feet, and a haunted look on his face. A sudden boom of thunder has him leaping back, arms coming up to defend himself from an invisible enemy. I watch him, observing the way he trembles, how his lip quivers, then I storm forwards, wrapping my arms around him as he just deflates. I hold him, pushing us back into his apartment as he drops to his knees, breaths coming ragged as I kneel with him and cuddle him to my chest, using my own body as a shield against his nightmares.

"It's alright, I'm here now," I coo, running my fingers through his hair, "You're okay, you're not alone." Leon cries silently as I look around the dark space, noticing a lone gun sitting on his coffee table, and a single bullet beside it. Words aren't needed for confirmation; Leon was going to end his life tonight. The thought strikes fear into my heart, especially knowing that my timing was cutting it close, and that's only because I followed my gut.

"I-I don't know if I can do this anymore." Leon whispers shakily, fingers clutching me as if he were just a small, frightened child, and not a man approaching twenty-two. "I shouldn't be here."

I pull away, cupping his tear streaked cheeks as our noses brush. "Don't ever say that, Leon. You deserve to be alive, and you've already survived much worse. I promise you're going to be okay, I'm with you, and I'm never going anywhere." Leon doesn't reply, he just goes blank, almost numbing himself out as I bite back a cry and tug him back towards me in hopes that I'm enough to piece him back together.

It's almost seven years later, on another dreary night in October when Leon's mind goes back to that pitch black place. He's struggled over the years, but with therapy and throwing himself into military training and earning his right to be alive by making himself 'useful' he's been able to keep the demons at bay. Tonight though, I once more find him debating on cutting his life short. I wake up, padding to the bathroom to see him sitting against the wall, knees to his chest as he toys with a combat knife his Lieutenant gave him back in Raccoon City. I search Leon's stormy eyes, seeing the arguments and conflict buried within.

I crouch down carefully, whole body shaking as I swallow and reach out a hand, my engagement ring glints in the light as I wrap my hand around Leon's, both of us holding the knife as he looks up at me with nothing but guilt. "Will I ever escape Raccoon?" He asks deeply, sounding like a man who's on the edge, and I'm the only one who's here to pull him back.

My brows knit together as I think of a reply. His fist tightens around the handle, hand shaking as he lets his head fall back and hit the tiled wall. He looks up at the ceiling, breathing out a long, tired sigh. "A part of you will always be trapped there, living amongst the rest of the dead whilst you cling to the past and everything you couldn't do," I begin as a odd yet possibly therapeutic idea comes to mind, "but if you bury it and let it go, mourn it and then move on, maybe you'll be able to break free from it."

Leon looks at me, listening and paying attention as I release my hand and let him have control over the blade. He squeezes it, knuckles going white from the pressure as he swallows deeply. "Bury the past?" He asks.

I nod, then explain my idea to him as I carefully lead him back to bed.

Once more, it's a fucking depressing day when Leon and I arrive at the graveyard. The sun doesn't even try to attempt to come out as the clouds darken the skies, and a heavy drizzle floods everything, covering the world in a somber, cold splash. We walk hand in hand, fingers numb as we weave through gravestones and mausoleums until we find the empty dug out spot I reserved. It'll be later dug up and reused for a body that actually needs it, but for now it's acting as Leon's grave. Macabre, yes. However, this could be what Leon needs to see.

Leon stares at the grave and the open casket, empty apart Leon's old police badge resting within. I squeeze his hand, knowing by the stiffening of his shoulders that the memories are flowing back, eating him alive as he mourns what he lost. "It's not about forgetting," I softy say as the rain tries to drown out my words, "it's about forgiveness and letting that part of yourself rest. You can't keep holding on to things that weren't your fault."

Leon swallows, glancing at me before nodding after a beat. His jaw tightens as he releases my hand, moving closer to his grave as he kneels down and lowers his head. I watch, desperate to hear the words he's envisioning right now, but it's not my place to demand or even know. This is Leon's time, and I'd be selfish to ask him about it. A few minutes pass, then he reaches into his jacket, pulling out the combat knife still holding so many terrors. It's well taken care of despite the souls its claimed, but Leon must see it as a reminder. A representation of everything he did but never wanted to do.

To kill your future colleagues. Friends...I shudder at the images of rookie Leon, scared and alone whilst having to murder people he'd hoped to laugh with. Did he see their smiles in his mind when he put them down? Did he imagine the conversations he could have had? Did he learn their names afterwards?

Leon sets the knife in the casket next to the photo. He stands, nodding as if allowing himself to let it go, then he turns back to me as the lid of the casket it closed then lowered into the ground. I take his hand, noticing he's shivering from the cold, but neither of us say anything. As the casket disappears, so begins Leon's guilt. The burden he's been  carrying for all of these years begins to ease, and when Leon finally exhales when the first shovel of dirt is tossed onto the box, I swear I see tears mixing with the rain on Leon's pale cheeks. His lips thin, face stoic, he looks like a lost man, unsure of his place in the world now that the weight of his past isn't holding him back anymore.

"Goodbye." Leon mumbles, turning away from the grave and leading me with him. I raise his hand, kissing the back of it as we walk through trodden paths to get back to the car. As soon as we get into the car, Leon's body deflates, his teeth chatter as I switch on the heater, and I turn on the car, the radio comes on as a sad song plays, but I switch it off, letting the silence and the heavy rainfall pattering on the roof be our music. Leon's fingers form a fist as he rests his hands on his pants, his lips part as if he wants to say something, but I shake my head. The moment is too fragile still.

A few more minutes pass until we're both warm and more stable. Leon turns to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as he leans in and presses a kiss to my temple. "Thank you." He says, voice deep with grief, but a small smile tilts the edges of his lips, as if the beginnings of a new life are in reach. I nod, pecking his lips as he leans his forehead to mine.

"Let's go home." I say, starting the car as Leon nods and links his fingers with mine.

"Yeah, home sounds good."

Leon isn't healed or suddenly happier, but this should help him realise that the past isn't tomorrow or the day after. The past is behind, and whilst it's close enough to reach, it's also far enough to walk away from.