WHAT: Leon shows up for patrol hungover and Laurence has words for him. WHERE: Outskirts of the forest WHEN: Sometime after the first Vallo flipped plot WARNINGS: Nah STATUS: Complete
A year or two, Laurence wouldn’t have thought twice about the amount that Leon Kennedy was working. Laurence himself had spent most of his life working non-stop. One didn’t get breaks or holidays when they were shipboard, and while he’d had some months landbound between voyages, they were few and far between compared to the months he’d have spent at sea. A work-life balance was not a concept that had been familiar to him, or, he supposed, anyone else in the late-18th and early-19th century.
But he’d been in Vallo for more than two years now, and he’d come to adjust his line of thinking. He cherished the downtime he was able to spend with his husband, his dragon, their cats and dogs. He’d grown to appreciate the logic behind taking time off for one’s self, and that dedicating oneself entirely to their career wasn’t necessarily the wisest course.
He’d been noticing how many hours Leon had been putting in for some time, but was keenly aware that it wasn’t any of his business; it hadn’t yet affected his work, and Laurence would not insert himself, unwanted and unneeded, into someone’s personal life.
Leon made it Laurence’s business though when he come into work showing clear signs that he's overindulged the evening before. He came with the faint but sharp scent of alcohol on his breath, and the tired, somewhat pained eyes of a man hungover. Even when he’d been in the Navy, where such a thing was common practice, Laurence hadn’t let any of the men under his command get away with such a thing, and he’d become very adept after nearly three decades in the service to recognize the signs.
And so he made sure that everyone else was partnered up, gave them their assignments, and then said, “Mr. Kennedy. A word,” before he could file out with the rest of them.
Leon winced. He knew he was in trouble and he didn’t have anyone to blame but himself. It seemed like every time he thought he was starting to get his shit in order, Vallo did something to turn everything upside down and send him right back to where he started. The latest round of absolute dumb fuckery had left him so confused and with so many questions that just didn’t have any answers.
To make matters worse, Leon had purposefully been keeping people at arm's length. He believed it was easier to not get attached to anyone than go through the pain of either losing them or when they stabbed the proverbial knife into your back. The problem with that logic was when you had the kinds of questions and thoughts Leon had, there was no one around to hear them.
He’d started drinking around Christmas. It helped, kept him sane. He had it under control. Or he had until last night when a simple night out to blow off some steam had morphed into a night long bender that he could barely remember. The pain behind his eyes was enough to tell him just how big of a mistake that was.
And now Laurence was going to lay into him. Leon wasn’t military himself, but he’d been around enough military types to know what it meant when your superior referred to you as Mr Anything. And he knew he was already on Laurence’s shit list. He deserved whatever was in store for him.
He didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare insult Laurence with excuses or explanations. He stood rigid, with his hands at his sides and his shoulders squared, in the at-attention stance he’d learned from his training days, and braced himself.
Laurence waited for just a moment. It had been a long time since he’d had to act as a superior officer in any capacity, but he was well used to the instant excuses and explanations that often happened once his men realized they were in trouble. It spoke well to him that Leon didn’t try. He wondered how to approach it, and, after a moment, decided there was no sense in dancing around the subject.
“Have you been drinking, Mr. Kennedy?”
Leon kept his eyes straight ahead. It was poor form to look your superior in the eye when they were addressing you. So, Leon had learned the hard way. “Yes, sir,” he answered matter-of-factly. There was no sense in denying it. If he was going to get into trouble, he preferred it be for drinking rather than lying. “I went out last night. I over did it. I apologize, sir.
If Leon had tried to lie, Laurence would have given him a dressing down like he hadn’t needed to do in years. As it was, he pursed his lips, and gave him a long, measured look. Leon’s personal life was none of Laurence’s business, and he wouldn’t – couldn’t – pry into it, despite his concerns.
“Follow me,” he said, and lead the way to a bench on the other side of the clearing to the waypoint. “Take a seat.”
Once Leon had sat down, Laurence took a seat next to him. “I will not have you going on patrol in your current state, Mr. Kennedy,” he said.
Leon wished Laurence had laid into him. That would have been better than the calm voice that was telling him he couldn’t work. His pulse started to beat faster. This type of work was all he knew and all he was good for. But again, he had no one to blame but himself. If their places were switched, Leon wouldn’t have wanted a hungover Laurence on patrol either. Not that he thought for a second Laurence would ever let himself get to this state. It was all Leon could do to not put his head in his hands.
“Yes, sir. I know sir. I --” he stopped himself before he said more than was appropriate. He couldn’t run the risk of saying something to offend the officer again. “I’m sorry. I know you expect better. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
“See that it doesn’t,” Laurence said sternly. But some of the steel left his voice when he added, “You’ve been working quite a lot lately.”
Which, there. He’d breached the topic, though he was acutely aware that it was very nearly prying.
Laurence hadn’t fired him. Leon was grateful for that. His body relaxed a little more and his pulse rate slowed, leaving his head hurting only slightly more than it had been previously. The change in tone was what caused Leon to risk glancing in the other man’s direction. He was cautious, believing Laurence to regard professionalism above all else. He chose his words carefully. “There is a lot to do,” he said. “People depend on us to protect them.” He was aware that made his current state all the worse. He winced again, this time visibly. “I know. I need to be better.”
Laurence let the silence sit between them for several long seconds; he could see that Leon understood the position he’d put them in, and he would let him stew with that knowledge for some time.
“I’m going to ask Command to put you on leave for one week,” he said after a moment. “It’s my opinion that you’ve been pushing yourself too hard. I do not want to hear that you’ve been drowning yourself in drink while you’re off either – not that I think you would, only that I have known men who’ll do so if they’re not occupied with work. If you find yourself in need of occupation, you may come to me.”
He hesitated, uncertain. Back home, it had not been his place to dictate what men did in their personal lives. But then, there’d been very little personal lives for his men to indulge in. While he’d been in the Navy, they’d have spent years at a time at sea, and while they were on his ship, they were under his command. And while there was more freedom to roam among his men once he’d joined the Aerial Corps, they were expected daily with Temeraire while they were abroad. Personal lives were a luxury men could return to for a few weeks every few months or years.
“It is not my place to dictate how you live your life outside of work, Mr. Kennedy, and I would not presume to do so. But… I think it might be wise if you try to find pursuits outside of Defense. When men are overworked, they make mistakes that can endanger themselves or their team. Up until today, I have found no fault with your work. You know your duty well, and you work hard. I do not want to see that change.”
Leon held his tongue when Laurence told him he was placing him on leave. He hated it, but he knew better than to attempt to argue with a superior officer. However, when Laurence went on about finding a life outside of work, Leon frowned despite himself. What the hell did Laurence think he’d been trying to do last night? Did he think Leon was just out drinking because he was some kind of drunk?! Maybe he did. It wasn’t as though Leon had made a good case for himself for Laurence to think otherwise.
Maybe if Leon was still the stupid naive kid he used to be, this wouldn't have been an issue. Hell, if he was the version of Leon from that Other Vallo, none of this would have been a problem either! That version of him, who did fucking yoga in the morning, cooked people breakfast and seemed to be a never ending source of optimism and bad puns, wouldn’t have had any problems separating his life from his work and he’d lived in a near literal hell! The Prime version of Leon hated him.
Because what was the fucking point of it all? It was a question Leon had been asking himself for a while now, hoping that at some point he may find an answer. There was no answer. Laurence had offered the reasoning of avoiding burnout which could result in putting the rest of his team at risk. Logically, that made sense, but what did you do when that didn’t work?
Leon’s mouth was dry and his head still pounded, but he found himself speaking anyway. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
Laurenced nodded and made a light gesture for Leon to continue.
The words Leon wanted to say were easy in his head but getting them from his brain to his mouth was difficult. He felt both foolish and stupid for how hard it was to get them out. It took him a moment before he finally spoke. “When I was a cop in Racoon City during the outbreak, I came across a shop owner and his daughter. She was about six years old. It was obvious that she was infected with the T-Virus and had just turned. The dad knew it and he knew there was no saving her. I could see it in his face. He looked me dead in the eye and asked me why this was happening to them.” Leon shook his head. “I couldn’t answer him. I didn’t know why. I still don’t understand why.”
Leon ran a hand through his hair. “They both died. Later I learned that his name was John Kendo. I think about him and his daughter a lot.”
Laurence knew how difficult it could be to speak freely to a superior officer, and so he sat, calm but attentive, until Leon began to speak. “I’m sorry,” he said after a brief pause where he waited to see if Leon would continue. “That must have been quite difficult.”
“It is,” he said. “After Racoon City, I swore I would never let something like that happen again.” He sighed. “And yeah, I know that pushing myself too hard leads to burnout and I won’t be any good to anyone, like that, but when I try…” he trailed off and shrugged his shoulders. “I end up thinking about Kendo and his daughter, and Luis, and Krauser…so many people are dead and yet, I’m still here.”
He looked at Laurence “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”
“I think I understand regardless,” Laurence said, frowning to himself. “There are lots of competent people here in Vallo,” he said after a long moment. “A lot of people who care, and care deeply. If a situation like that arises in Vallo, and I doubt very much that it would –” There’d been one future, he understood, where something cataclysmic had happened. But Time Travel was as real here as any other sort of magic, and they’d stopped it before it even began to happen, “then almost every Outlander would be there to offer aid and succor to the John Kendos of this world. It need not be a responsibility you take on yourself. And besides, I’ve found that when men rest when they’re given time to rest – when they enjoy their leisure time, and eat and rest when they’re able – then they perform better in the times when they can’t take time to themselves.
“Vallo does indeed have times, occasionally, when rest isn’t permitted.” Temeraire had lost his eye in one of those instances, when Laurence had decided to rest rather than to keep watch. He grimaced. “Do you think you would do better during a week of ceaseless danger and combat after you’d had a week of taking the time to rest, or do you think it more wise to enter one of those weeks after working every day and night for a month beforehand, when most of those days were also worked by men and women as capable of fixing a farmer’s fence?”
“Of course not,” Leon said, his voice taking on a tired tone to match how his head and body both felt. “I know that Vallo is full of fighters and I know most of those fighters are a lot better and more powerful than me. I know any one of them could have saved Kendo and his kid.”
He glared hard at the floor in front of him. He knew – or thought he knew – what Laurence was repeating to him again and again about to just let everything go, get his rest and enjoy himself. Laurence made it sound so easy, so simple. Leon wished it was.
He thought, for a few fleeting moments, about telling Laurence about the other version of himself and asking if Laurence understood the point and how to get rid of the guilt of living. He bit back the words before they got past his tongue. He was afraid if he admitted that, Laurence would never let him back on the Team and if he planned on remaining sane, he needed this.
He shook his head. “I need to get it together.” He ran his hands through his hair and got to his feet. “I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time, sir.”
Laurence frowned. He felt rather like he’d bungled the whole conversation, but perhaps it was better to let it go now instead of attempting to fix it; undoubtedly he’d only manage to make the situation worse. He was very aware that he and Leon had gotten off on the wrong foot nearly from the start.
He couldn’t claim, either, that Leon hadn’t wasted his time, though he’d not have put it in such terms; Leon had wasted time by coming to work hungover. He rolled some responses over in his head for a moment, before settling on, “It is my job as Team Coordinator to look out for the well-being of my team members. I’d be remiss if I didn’t do the same for you, Mr. Kennedy. I hope that you’ll come to me should you face any difficulties.”
“Yes, sir.” It was Leon’s intent to not do anything more that would give his superior officer any further reason to dislike him. He was still at a loss for what Laurence intended for him to do during his week suspension, but he’d figure something out. He’d gone his whole life figuring things out on his own, this shouldn’t have been any different.