Chapter Text
“Leon!” Grace called out in surprise as she opened the door. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
He couldn’t resist a little smirk. “You sent me an invitation, right?” He took the sparkly purple card out of his pocket and held it up to the light. In his other hand he was holding a large present in colorful wrapping paper, with unicorns on it; the lady at the store had recommended the unicorns.
“Y-yes, but I didn’t think you’d—I didn’t think—well, um, o-ok, why don’t you come in! We’re just getting started.”
Leon walked inside the humble apartment. He knew exactly why Grace was so frazzled; they’d shared a few phone calls in the months since their mutual adventure (if one could call it that) but hadn’t seen each other. With him in D.C. and her in the Midwest, there was no opportunity. When Grace had sent him an invitation to Emily’s ninth birthday party, he knew exactly what she had meant by it: showing that she was thinking of him, that she was thankful for the life she had now, and just to let him know that Emily was doing well enough that she could have birthday parties now. She had probably never in a million years thought that Leon would actually fly in just for the party.
To be fair, he didn’t really know himself why he’d come either. He had just had an urge to see the two of them and make sure they were okay, perhaps. Something like that.
He followed her down the short hallway to what must have been her living room, where a group of people were already gathered, chatting and drinking soda. The small room was filled with decorations featuring pictures of cartoon characters he didn’t recognize, with a bright purple “Happy Birthday Emily!” banner on the back wall.
Grace cleared her throat and gestured to Leon.
“Everyone, this is Leon, my- my friend. He’s a, uh…he’s a….”
“Handyman,” Leon finished for her. “I do odd jobs here and there. I fix Grace’s appliances sometimes.”
It was a practiced lie; telling random people that he was a government agent was usually a bad idea, not only because it was bad for basic security reasons, but because it tended to garner too much attention—especially from women. Speaking of which….
“Oh, you simply must have a look at my oven,” a 40-something blonde woman said, “I just can’t get it to work right.” From the way she was looking him over, it was clear she was more interested in affairs of the bedroom than the kitchen.
“Well I’m off the clock now Ma’am, but I’ll give you my card,” Leon said with false cheer.
“Oh please, call me Jessica, I’m too young to be a “Ma’am”!”
Grace caught his eye and raised an eyebrow at him, the meaning of the expression clearly being “a handyman? Really?” and he grinned back at her. She looked pretty today, wearing a dark green dress and a nice silver clip in her hair—of course, Grace looked pretty everyday, but he suspected that she didn’t know that. She was also wearing her thick, black-framed glasses, which added an extra layer of adorableness on top.
Emily, also wearing a green dress that neatly matched Grace’s, looked up at him, and Leon felt his smile slip. If Emily remembered anything from her time as a mutated bio-weapon, then her first memory of him was of him attacking her, pumping her ravaged form full of lead to put her down. For her sake, he really hoped she didn’t remember any of it—it wasn’t like it was the kind of thing he could ask her.
All of the party-goers introduced themselves, and it became clear that all the guests at the party were Grace and Emily’s fellow residents of the apartment complex, not friends from school or work. A couple of the guests were teenagers who had come with their parents, but Emily didn’t appear to have any friends her own age; for that matter, neither did Grace.
“Where do I put this?” Leon asked, gesturing to his gift.
“That’s a big present!” Emily said with genuine enthusiasm, making Leon smile.
“We were just about to open presents anyway. Want to start with Leon’s?” Grace asked Emily.
“Yeah!”
As he watched Emily rip off the wrapping paper of his gift with gusto, Leon mused that calling in a favor so that Grace could adopt Emily immediately, instead of having to go through a paperwork nightmare with Social Services, had been worth it. Sure, the kid seemingly didn’t have friends her own age yet, but that was a lot to expect for a child who had been through what she had; for now, perhaps it was enough that she had bonded so strongly with Grace. He had been worried that perhaps Grace wasn’t up to the task of raising a child so soon after her ordeal, but as usual, Grace surprised him with her capabilities.
He looked at her, laughing and talking to Jessica, the one who had flirted with him, and felt a flash of anger—not at Grace, but on her behalf. Though she was getting better, she still had that persistent stutter, and that, along with her slight frame, led people to think that she was weak. He knew that she was anything but—he had seen the lioness inside her when she protected Emily, even protected him. She had survived a nightmare where most people would have given up and let death take them rather than keep fighting. The girl had taken down Lickers, for fucks sake, all by herself, yet he knew people didn’t see her for what she truly was.
The FBI knows though, he thought. I wonder if they’re treating her right?
After ripping off a lot of paper, Emily cheered when she finally revealed Leon’s present.
“It’s an art set! With watercolors and special metallic markers!”
“Good for you!” cheered one of the women, and everybody clapped.
“Good pick?” Leon asked Grace quietly, and she nodded. He didn’t really know what to get for a nine-year-old girl, since his only real experience with a girl child was Sherry, who had been years older than this when he’d met her—and besides, that was a long time ago now. Grace had mentioned that Emily liked drawing, so that had been something to go on at least.
Emily was trying to open the art set, but like a lot of toys, it was diabolically complex to open the damn thing. “Grace, can I go to my room and color with the markers?”
“No sweetie, you’re opening presents now. Don’t you want to open the rest of them?”
Emily grinned so wide it almost looked like it hurt. “Oh yeah!” she said, then grabbed another wrapped package out of the pile, and everybody laughed.
As he watched Emily rip off more wrapping paper and nursed his soda, Leon had a strange feeling. He had been to children’s birthday parties before, mostly for his superior’s children, but he of course had never been to one for a child of his own. Now, at the age he was, he could be pretty certain that it was never going to happen. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that; frankly, it was improbable that he had even survived as long as he had, in his line of work. Trying to fit a family into his life introduced a million problems in search of solutions that didn’t exist, and he thought he had made peace with that. Still, when he watched the happy child, surrounded by people who cared about her, he did allow himself a moment to grieve what might have been, in another life.
He was so lost in his musings that it took him a moment to notice that someone else had come in, which was unusual for him; usually, his hyper-awareness would not shut down, no matter where he was or what he was doing. Perhaps he was just tired, needed this day off more than he had realized.
“Is it okay if I come in? The door was open,” called a deep male voice, and Leon instinctively narrowed his eyes.
“O-oh yes Charles, it’s fine, come in the living room,” Grace called, and Leon looked at her in confusion.
The fuck? Who’s Charles? I haven’t talked to her in three weeks, and now there’s a Charles?
A man who looked to be around 30 came into the room, holding a huge present. Leon supposed he was handsome, as these things went, even if he did have a bit of a receding hairline. About 5’8, he had medium brown hair and dark eyes and was wearing a dark blue business suit.
Grace scampered over to him to take the present, then introduced the man to the group. “Everyone, this is Charles, he works at the law office next door. We met because we’re both always shopping at the corner store at the same time.”
“Yes, I can confirm that Grace is a big fan of Pop Tarts,” Charles quipped, and Grace laughed.
Leon drained the rest of his soda, considering. Alright, so he’s just an acquaintance, another person she knows from the neighborhood. Not anything I need to worry about.
The party continued, with Emily tearing into more of her presents and all of the adults chatting. Leon got into a conversation about politics with a fifty-something man named Gerry, who lived with his wife in the apartment across from Grace’s. While he was conversing, he noticed that Charles kept engaging in conversation with Grace, but with all the chatter in the room, he couldn’t make out the words. He could read lips, but Charles was facing away from him so that was no help. He was going to focus on Grace’s lips, but then Gerry started on a huge tear about taxes and infrastructure investment and Leon had to at least pretend that he was listening.
Eventually, Grace stood up from the couch and addressed the room. “It’s time for cake! Who wants birthday cake?”
“Definitely me!” yelled Emily.
Leon stood up, dropping his soda cup in the garbage next to him. “Let me help you cut the cake, I’m good with knives.”
Grace laughed nervously at that, being the only one who knew the full context for that admission, but she waved him over and they went into the kitchen together. The kitchen, though modest, like everything in the apartment, was suspiciously clean and tidy; Leon had a feeling that Grace didn’t cook, just brought in prepared food.
And Pop Tarts, of course.
As Grace went to the refrigerator to pull out the cake box, Leon leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “What were you and Charles talking about? You were talking with him for a while.”
Grace looked embarrassed for a fraction of a second, then smiled. “He actually asked me out. For Saturday.”
Well, fuck.
“And you said yes?”
“I did,” Grace said, placing the big white box on the table in her eat-in kitchen. “Do you think that’s bad?”
She looked at him, and Leon knew she wanted his approval. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
“You can do whatever you want, I’m just worried about you. I didn’t think you were dating right now. You never mentioned dating before.”
She shrugged as she cut the red and white string that secured the box. “I haven’t been, really, but my therapist said it’s good to try new things. Start living life, instead of waiting for it to start, you know?”
Leon ran a hand through his thick hair, feeling somewhat out of his depth. “Well, none of my business, I guess. Just as long as you feel ready.”
“I do,” she said. Then she turned and handed him a big serrated knife. “But it’s nice of you to look out for me. I appreciate it.”
There was something formal about that, something that suggested distance, and he didn’t like it. He took the knife from her.
“Well, you did save my life, comes with the territory.”
After he had cut the cake and everyone had a slice, Leon came to stand next to Charles. “So you work in a law office?”
Charles turned to him and smiled, but it was a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Leon had a feeling that Charles didn’t like the idea of Grace having a “friend” that looked like Leon. “Yes, I’m an attorney. If you want to tell a lawyer joke, sorry but I’ve already heard every single one.”
“Oh, I’ll bet.”
“What do you do?” Charles asked, taking a sip of the coffee Grace had made. “Since I got here late, I missed all the introductions, unfortunately.”
“I’m a handyman, I do odd jobs.”
Leon watched Charles reaction and saw what he expected; a little smirk of self-satisfaction, smothered beneath a layer of civility but still discernible. Now that Charles thought that Leon had a blue-collar job, he saw him as beneath him, someone who didn’t matter.
“Oh well, that must be difficult. It’s so hard to make it in the trades these days, or so I hear.”
Classist piece of shit.
Leon thought of telling Grace that her date was a dud, but decided not to—he wasn’t her father, for God’s sake. He’d protect her from anybody who meant real harm, but it wasn’t his job to protect her from all the annoyances of life. Was it?
After the guests went home, leaving in ones and twos (with Charles lingering an annoyingly long time), Emily bolted to her bedroom to color with her new markers. Leon stayed and helped clean up the living room. As he picked up a stack of paper plates smeared with fudge frosting, Grace laughed, a tinkling sound.
“What?”
“It’s just, I can’t believe the great Leon S. Kennedy, DSO, is in my apartment picking up trash.”
“Well, I don’t just kill zombies…Grace?”
He had startled her. “Y-yes?” she said as she took down the birthday banner on the back wall.
“You have no idea when Emily’s real birthday is, do you?”
She rewarded him with a sly smile.
“No clue. Emily said she’s been 8 for a while, so I told her to pick a date that will count as her birthday from now on. She picked April 15.”
“It’s a good birthday,” he said, then he turned to leave. “I should probably go if I want to catch my flight back.”
“Okay. Will I…see you again?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Depends on the missions. But thank you for having me.”
“Anytime.”
“And Emily looks great, keep doing what you’re doing.”
Her smile was grateful, beautiful.
“Thank you so much for saying that.”
She let him out, and he stood there for a minute, considering. He turned around and looked at the door, then pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. Sherry answered on the second ring.
“What’s up?”
“Sherr, I’ve gotta take a few more days of vacation. Something has come up.”
Sherry sounded annoyed. “Really, Leon? Do you think now is a great time to take more vacation, what with everything going on?”
“Sherry, if there are zombies on the National Mall eating people, I promise I’ll fly back. Otherwise, give me a fucking break.”
There was a pause, then Sherry’s voice turned low and mocking. “It’s because of Grace, isn’t it? You want to make sure she’s okay.”
“More or less.”
“You like her.”
“She’s half my age, Sherry. I just want her safe.”
“Sure,” Sherry said, sounding unconvinced.
“You gonna book me a hotel, or do I have to do my dirty work myself?”