It’s an unusual moment of peace, one you’ve rarely experienced in the decades you’ve spent with Leon. Your lives have always been tied to chaos, to the constant threat of the Umbrella Corporation or whatever other nefarious organization rose from its ashes. Being grandparents… the idea feels almost absurd to you.

You’re sitting in the old recliner, watching the scene in front of you. Leon is there, standing in the middle of the rug, carefully holding your grandson, Leo a small bundle of blankets and soft babbling.

It’s an image that disarms you. Leon’s expression is a complex mix of awe, confusion, and a tenderness brutally held in check. He never thought about having a grandson, or even about having a quiet, domestic life you know that better than anyone. His destiny was always to be the lone agent, the reluctant hero.

Now, he’s holding the next generation.

You watch him gently rock the baby. Those hands that have wielded countless weapons and saved innumerable lives now cradle the child awkwardly. Your eyes meet his, and you smile at him. He returns a half-smile, that very typical expression of his, but this time with something different in it a hint of genuine bewilderment.

“It’s… it’s strange, isn’t it?” you say softly.

Leon nods slowly, his blue eyes fixed on Leo’s sleeping face. “Very strange,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never imagined myself in a scenario like this.”