Terror's the Least

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Buffy/Devil May Cry/Resident Evil/Background NCIS Crossover (Hold My Heart)
Chapter Summary: Leon's bad day just gets worse.
Word Count: 685
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Leon/Xander
Warning: Leon's alcohol problems return

 

         Leon’s good mood, unfortunately, doesn’t last. Part of it is working with Hunnigan. It’s the fact that she knows him well enough to know when he’s not doing so well, and it’s hardly the first time he’s had to come back in after a nightmare. They pretty much all deal with it. He doesn’t usually let it haunt him like this, though.
         He knows they’re keeping him out of the field so he’s on hand, just in case anything actually happens with those threats. If it’s a Scarlet Order escapee, it’s probably not that big a deal, but they can’t afford to dismiss it. Honestly, he doesn’t mind it, too much, nor the chance to catch up on his paperwork—and that’s something that hasn’t changed much since his academy days. A lot of his peers chafed at the lack of action, wanting to be in the field a lot of the time, but he never minded taking on a little extra work if it meant helping out other busier colleagues.
         When she brings her own phone to him, though, apologetic look on her face, he feels tears suddenly appearing in his eyes, the bad feeling from his nightmare returning in full force. “You should take this, Leon.” Her voice is gentle, gentler than she’s ever used to address him, and he takes it numbly with fingers that suddenly feel clumsy and inadequate.
         “Leon? I’m so sorry.” He knows that tone—damn he knows that tone, he’s been trained to use that professional, compassionate tone, even as his mind instantly starts protesting, because this can’t be happening. This is just an extension to the nightmare. He hasn’t actually woken up. “Breathe. This isn’t the ‘he’s dead’ call,” she continues, and Leon gasps oxygen, feeling a little shaky. He needs to sit down.
         “He is missing, though, and I thought you deserved to know that, because if we didn’t call you’d go home and be wondering where he was or why he wasn’t letting you know when he was done because he was supposed to be done now and obviously that’s not how it’s going,” she babbles. It’s hard to tell if that’s reassuring, because he’s really gotten used to the fact that this is just something they do when they’re nervous, or absolutely not, because Rosenberg nervous is bad. Leon feels a little lost and distant.
         “Is there something we can do to help?” Hunnigan asks from somewhere behind him. It’s a good question. He should have thought of it.
         “We’re going over—it was a teleportation accident, like in Star Trek, according to Andrew, except this never happens and I have absolutely no idea how it happened—we’re going over the arrival and departure spots and the in-between with the magical equivalent of a fine-tooth comb, but absolutely. I could hack the satellites, because you never know what they could catch especially when he’s got his cell phone on, but it’s faster if we get permission instead.” She continues rambling, and it’s probably useful information he should know, but he can’t help himself. He tries to listen, to follow along, but the rest seems a little jumbled.

         It’s only when he gets back to his new apartment that Leon realizes what he’s done, operating on autopilot without conscious thought.
         He’s bought a bottle of beer. He stares at it in his hand and sets it on the countertop in the corner. He quickly backs out of the kitchen and grabs the chair, rolling it over to the island and sitting. He should grab his phone, call Willow, call Xander, do absolutely everything, but once he sits facing the bottle, he can’t get up. It’d be the extra step, to go around, but he doesn’t trust himself, not right now. His hands are shaking. He needs to get dinner, but he’s not hungry. As much as he wants to taste oblivion, he’d made a promise, and how much progress has he made if the second something goes wrong he goes running back again? He doesn’t feel like he can move, not safely, so...he just doesn’t.