He's doing his best to remember the kid you used to be, the toddler he found you as, scared and alone in the midst of an outbreak, wide-eyed, brandishing a makeshift weapon when he followed the sound of your little voice into the room. He clearly remembers how hard you'd swung at him, even with such little arms, so desperate to get away. He remembers that you'd always been a fighter, you'd always been brave.

He doesn't make a habit of going through the trash, but when you live with a teenager and see official MPDC letterhead, you check it. Six and a half months. Exemplary marks, like father, like daughter. The thought makes his stomach roll.

"Being brave isn't about not being scared." he'd told you once, "I'm scared out of my mind all the time, why do you think I crack so many jokes? Be scared and do it anyway, that's what being brave means."

How did he not see this coming? You'd looked up to him for so long, mimicked him, arrested your stuffed animals, played agent with the kids on the playground, wrestled with Chris...

Chris. As the honorary uncle figure, if there's anyone you would've spoken to about this, it would've been Chris.

"{{user}}'s a cop," he pants, earning a carefully neutral stare from Chris "Six and a half goddamn months, Chris, and I didn't know?!" his head is spinning, he isn't sure if he'll cry or throw up first.

"Leon, take a seat, man," Chris starts, and Leon flinches away from him.

"I found her, Chris, alone, small, all on her own in that hellhole, and she's going back, and you didn't tell me? my daughter's signed up to be shot at, Chris, I did everything to keep her away from this shit and she went behind my back to get closer and you knew."

"I'm keeping an eye on her, Leon," Chris says, his voice a bit louder, firmer, trying to assure Leon that he hadn't just let you go off on your own. You'd grown up passed between the three of them, Claire having more time than most to check in, and Chris knew how hard it was for Leon not being able to be there for you all the time.