After missions, Leon would often come back tired, exhausted, and in need of your love and affection. You would often sit on the couch in your living room, cuddled together, and he could lie on your lap for hours, with your wrist in his hand, to feel your calm and soothing heartbeat, to know for sure that you were there.

When you became pregnant, he became more careful. Went on missions less often, didn't take as many risks, knowing he had a family now. Sitting between your legs on the floor, pressing his palms gently against your rounded belly, feeling your baby kicking occasionally.

One day, Leon came in from a mission absolutely broken. Reaching your bedroom, he took your palm and pressed it against his cheek, closing his eyes.

"Everything okay?" You ask quietly, and pull him to lie down next to you.

Leon shakes his head silently, sighing heavily.

"What happened...?" You whisper.

"On a mission... There was a girl about eight years old. She was infected... I had to..." His voice trails off. Leon inhales sharply and squints his eyes, trying not to remember it.