Love From The Other Side ☆ Leon S Kennedy X Reader

21 ☆ Processing Overload

I nervously look down at my calloused hand, before a small, weak smile forms on my lips and I hold it out for her to take. Without a second thought, the punk backtracks our location. I sigh, chasing after her. What the hell was on that note!?

I walk beside her, looking down at her scruffy figure and marijuana.

"Y/N, please talk to me. You can't do this everytime you find out something that stereotypes cops." I mumble, attempting one last time to hold her hand; just incase she didn't see it last time. She smacks my hand away. It feels as if my heart is single handedly being torn from my chest.

"Don't fucking talk to me like that. You don't know anything." She huffs, taking a hit of her joint. She seems to decide against it, pressing the burning end into the wall and enclosing it in a small vial-like jar.

"Are you joking? Of course I don't know anything, you won't speak to me!" I exclaim, throwing my arms out subconsciously.

"I can't trust you enough!" She confesses, frustratedly.

"Oh, great, thanks. What, 'cause I'm a fucking cop?" I huff.

"Yes, 'cause you're a fucking cop! I- I don't... hate you, though." She mumbles.

It's reassuring, but still irritating.
"Thank you so much for not hating me for being a policeman." I scoff. "I don't hate you either."

She huffs. "Whatever... some of the RPD worked down here. Not all of them."

I nod. She's actually telling me what's on her mind. "Mhm?"

"They watched my brother get fucked. Unconsentually. Night after night." She mumbles. "There's so many police assholes, I don't know who to trust."

So that's why she thinks I'M an asshole.

"Y/N, that's disgusting. I would never do that." I let out a small groan, placing my hand to my head. "Do you want my shirt? You're just... out here in your bra. I'd have to take my gear off, but-"

"No, I'm fine." She responds, bluntly. I nod at her choice... my shirt probably stinks anyway.

"...Are you sure? What about the guy earlier that said you were sick?"

"It's a cold."

"So you're sick?" I ask, trying to brush off her bland replies.

"It's a cold."

"Okay..." I gulp. "What about your memory? Are we getting that back next, or-"

"No, Leon!" She yells. She pauses for a moment, letting out a long, tense breath. "I'm sorry."

I nod at the effort. I appreciate the apology. "It's okay, Y/N. Do you want to fill me in a little so I don't have to keep asking questions?"

She nods, sniffling a little and wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand. "Um... let's just go. Go find Ada and get out of here."

"And Claire. But we have a slight issue with Ada." I begin. "I've been told that she might be mercinary."

She tilts her head ever so slightly in confusion. "So?"

"So, she's not on our side." I dumb down the conclusion for her. "She isn't helping us, she wants the virus to sell to someone. Which means the virus would only spread from the city."

"Oh..." She mumbles, slightly disheartened.

"But, that might be wrong. Let's just hope." I add on, not so convinced by my own reassurance.

As we make it to the large room, I look around and spot Ada, her vibrant red dress iconically sticking out. She's by the middle of the room with the elevator; approaching us on a bridge. The two of us meet her just beyond halfway, and she smiles.

"You're here! I was starting to think you'd been killed, God... and where's your shirt, girl?" She crosses her arms.

"...It's gone. And my name is Y/N, incase you forgot."

"Oh, I know. Leon mentioned you enough. Speaking of... do you two have the virus mutagen?" She asks, stepping forward and holding out her hand expectantly.

"...Annette says you're a mercinary." I state, matter-of-factly. I watch her face drop as she glances at the both of us. Her eyes dart back to me as she pulls out a pistol per hand, aiming it at both of us. I instinctively step infront of Y/N, and she leans around me and points her gun at Ada.

"Give me the vial, and nobody gets hurt." She threatens. "I didn't want to resort to this."

"It's evidence. And... no-one will get hurt?" I ask, sarcastically. The punk finishes my sentence. "How about the millions of innocent people in the future, huh!? You really wanna put up with this shit all over again?"

"Give me the vial." She demands.

The next few seconds go by in an instant, but the next thing I know I'm grabbing onto her hand and trying to pull her up from the side of the bridge which had managed to crumble in on itself.

Y/N tried to pull her up, but Ada refused to let go of the vial that she'd previously snatched from me. Meaning she was only holding onto my hand. And... I don't have the right angle to pull her up. It's not happening.

"Ada, drop the god damn vial!" I command, being met with clear refusal. I try again to heave her up, only to feel her fingers slip.

It feels like time freezes as each of her fingers lose grip on mine. I catch a glimpse of her eyes before she goes; they held nothing but acceptance.

The guilt flooding over my body in this moment is insane. If I tried a bit harder, maybe put my back into it, she would've had a better chance!

"Ada!" The two of us yell in sync, watching her disappear from view. I turn to Y/N, who's stood there in shock. Her jaw is dropped completely.

"...I think I'm gonna be sick." The girl groans, trudging over to the elevator. I hesitantly follow her, the next few minutes coated in a heavy layer of silence.

We ascend the elevator, venturing through some rooms and picking up the odd gear or ammunition scattered around. We switch on a computer, and before we know it...

"You have ten minutes."

"Ten minutes before what!?" Asks the punk girl. I gulp.

"I don't know. But I don't want to find out."