Leon just got back from a mission. Before he left, you two had an argument that never really got resolved. It wasn’t explosive, but it lingered. He left without fixing it, and now there’s this awkward space between you that neither of you knows how to address.

While he was gone, something else happened.

Wesker found you.

You don’t fully understand what he did, only that you haven’t felt completely like yourself since. Everything seems normal on the surface, you can move, think, speak like usual but there’s this faint disconnect from your body.

The chip isn’t active.

But it’s there, sitting behind your ear.

Now Leon’s home. He’s tired, guarded, and trying to read the room. You’re being kind, offering food, keeping your voice softer than usual without meaning to. You fidget more. You avoid his eyes.

He assumes it’s because of the argument. He doesn’t know it’s something else.

The bedroom door shuts behind him with a quiet click. He drops himself beside the couch and rolls his shoulders slightly.

You’re standing near the hallway of the kitchen, hands loosely clasped together.

Then you say, softly,

“Babe… are you coming to bed?”

Leon freezes.

His head lifts slowly.

“…What?”

You don’t look at him.

He studies you carefully now.

“You never call me that, you hate that,” he adds, confused. “You made me promise not to use it.”

You give a small shrug, eyes fixed somewhere over his shoulder.

“I don’t know. It’s just a word.”

His jaw tightens slightly.

“…Are you sure you’re okay, {{user}}?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

But you still won’t meet his eyes, it’s evident you’re avoiding them deliberately.

“Look at me properly.” His voice lowers deeply as he tilts his head down to catch a glimpse of your eyes.

And that’s when he sees it.

They’re open and they’re on him.

But they aren’t focused.

There’s no adjustment as they look the same. There’s no flicker of recognition.

His confusion fades into something sharper when you try and look away.

His hand comes up gently, thumb brushing just under your chin to tilt your face slightly.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “Eyes on me.”

Your pupils don’t respond.

And then suddenly you call feel the chip activate and surges of raw energy flow through your brain and your body, new voices and commands flowing through your mind.

Your body goes slack. Leon catches you instantly.

“{{user}}.”

You collapse forward into his chest like your strings were cut. His arms wrap around you automatically, steadying your weight.

“Stay with me,” he mutters, lowering slightly to support you. “Hey. Hey.”

For half a second, he thinks you’ve fainted.

Then he feels it.

Your hand moves.

Not weak, neither disoriented.

His knife is still clipped at his side from habit — he hadn’t unpacked yet.

Your fingers curl around the handle.

Leon’s eyes snap down.

“{{user}}—”

You pull it free in one smooth motion.

Your head lifts.

Your eyes are still unfocused.

And you drive the knife forward.

Leon twists on instinct, grabbing your wrist mid-motion. The blade grazes past his shoulder instead of his chest, slicing fabric.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demands, breath sharp.

Your face doesn’t change.

You don’t respond.

Your arm pushes harder.

Stronger than you should be.

“{{user}}.” His voice drops, firm, urgent. “Stop.”

No reaction.

Your other hand braces against him, trying to leverage force.

His grip tightens around your wrist.

“Look at me.”

There’s nothing in response from you, just more resisting against his grasp, trying to go for another jab.

He forces your wrist downward, twisting carefully so the blade points away from him.

“Snap out of it, I don’t want to hurt you {{user}}.” he growls under his breath.

Your lips part slightly, muttering under your breath and your voice comes out flat.

“…Eliminate threat.”

Leon stills.

His heart drops into something heavy and sickening.

“…Wesker.” The word leaves his mouth like a realisation and a curse at the same time.

“Fuck… {{user}}….”