Two children sat on the front porch of their house, hot and sweaty from the Kansas heat. The boy, older by a few years, cradled the other child in his arms as she sobbed. Her tiny dirt caked face was streaked with tears as she held her right knee to her chest. The pants leg was torn and muddy with a bit of blood seeping through from her skin.

"It hurts." The girl cried.

The boy hugged her tighter. "You'll be okay. You're tough."

"But it really hurts!"

"You'll be ok." He repeated. "I'm your big brother and I know these things."

His sister sniffled and looked up with large grey eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Sure."

"Like swear on it?"

"Yeah."

"Like pinky swear on it?"

"Claire!"

"Chris!"

"I'll never let anything happen to you, alright? You're gonna live."

"Okay." The girl wrapped her small arms around the boy. "If you say so." She paused. "You'll always take care of me, right?"

"You bet. Always."

Chris Redfield sat on his front porch, smoking a cigarette. The smoke curled around him like a curtain. It was a safety blanket for him as Chris hadn't touched the things in nearly five years. At the present moment a security blanket was the only thing Chris felt he could rely on.

Behind him he heard the front porch door open. "She show up yet?"

"No." Chris replied evenly.

There was a large sigh. Chris took another drag and exhaled as his wife appeared next to him. Her arms were folded across her chest defiantly and her gaze was firmly planted on their crowded driveway. She kept staring, speaking without breaking her gaze.

"Well, she didn't see it necessary to attend her nephew's funeral so why the hell would she show to the wake?" Jill Redfield spat bitterly.

Chris sighed taking another drag. "You know, Jill, she might have found it a little tough to attend given the frosty atmosphere around here."

Jill Redfield's stare was broken. She spun on her heel and glared at Chris with flashing eyes. "Why are you always protecting her?! After all she's done to you and our family—"

"She isour family." Chris snapped. "That doesn't change anything."

"No. I guess it doesn't. And it certainly doesn't change fact that my son is dead." Jill spat bitterly, turning to leave. "You might want to take that into consideration."

The screen door opened and slammed again, leaving Chris alone. He crushed his cigarette out as a cloud burst thundered out, bringing a downpour with it. Over the pounding storm Chris could hear a motorcycle engine nearing. A moment later a lone figure on a bike appeared soaked. They parked and hesitantly dismounted before slowly walking up the driveway. Chris swallowed and stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. The figure paused before the porch steps to remove their riding helmet then carefully climbed the stairs, setting her protective gear on the steps.

"Hey."

"You made it Claire. Nice to see you."

Claire Redfield shook her long, red hair and ran one gloved hand through the tangled mess. She was dressed casually in jeans, t-shirt and riding jacket. Her clothes were clean but wrinkled. Strong smells of cigarette smoke and stale whiskey poured off of the young woman and Chris did his best to ignore it, as he always had.

Claire gazed at her brother with sleepy eyes. "Where's Jill?"

"Inside." He replied. "She was asking when you were going to show up."

"Oh, so she can ready her list of insults?" Claire asked.

"Claire, please, she's hurting right now. We all are. Just try to keep that in mind." Chris pleaded, then decided it was no good and let the matter drop. "Sherry's inside. She wants to see you."

Claire nodded. "I bet she's grown." She looked sad for a moment. "I don't' want to go in there Chris."

Chris watched his little sister take a flask from her riding jacket and drink. When she'd finished she replaced it and stared at the door, as if waiting for it to jump out at her. He watched her, feeling absolutely helpless. For three years he'd watched Claire descend into a state of depression and despair. At one time she had been full of life, joy and vibrancy. Now it was a completely different story. It was all hate, vice and sin.

The siblings had always been close. That changed too. Now the phone calls only happened when Claire was strapped for cash, or in jail or trying to leave an abusive fling. Chris longed for the early days. Hell things had even been better when they were being chased by Umbrella's goons. He knew he'd do anything to go back; to just to back and change everything but it was impossible. The past was the past, what was done was done. Whether Chris Redfield liked it or not, it was time to face the music.

"You'll make things worse if you don't." Chris said flatly.

Claire stepped toward the door; her hand reached for the knob and then froze. "He's in there." Her hand shook slightly, then dropped and her shoulders slouched.

Chris lit another cigarette, becoming annoyed. "Leon? Of course. He's still part of the family, at least a willing member of the family."

The last comment didn't seem to bother Claire, or she wasn't listening, because she reached into her jacket to get the flask. "Funny." She said before taking a drink. "The ex brother in law is more welcome than your own flesh and blood sister. Just fuckin' hilarious."

The screen door opened and shut, banging close. Chris took a drag and exhaled, his mind whirling. A million thoughts rushed from one side of his brain to the other. The only discernable one was desperately praying she'd put the flask away.

She was drunk.

Claire eased her way into the Redfield home, sleepily smiling at strangers who passed by. The entrance was packed with mourners. Most of them stood around a table erected in the foyer that held pictures, a guest book and toys belonging to the late Maxwell Burton Redfield. It's all so morbid, Claire thought to her self. When I die, I want a damned party, not a goddamn cry fest.

Most of the guests Claire didn't recognize and that was fine by her. At his point, seeing someone she did know wouldn't be a positive thing, especially if that someone turned out to be her sister-in-law. Claire hadn't seen Jill Redfield since the day of the fire. She'd been wise to keep her distance, which was God's honest truth, knowing Jill's temper. Her son had been a RSV infant and was suffering from smoke inhalation. Her poor baby Max was sick. Claire scoffed at the thought of Jill weeping over her ailing son's bed. It had all been so tragically poetic. Where had all the sympathetic mourners been when sweet Cody lay in his coffin-bed?

At the thought of Cody, Claire's own first born, she felt an overwhelming sense of desperation. Pulling into the bathroom hallway Claire indulged in another pull from her flask. It seemed that no on remembered Claire's baby boy that had been snatched from her. It was all about Jill, just as it always had been; Perfect Jill that her brother loved with all of his heart. The love that Chris had for Jill seemed to rival the love that he had for Claire. It wasn't that Claire was jealous at this fact; it just seemed that blood family should be first to a person, not someone attracted because of raging hormones.

Things with her sister-in-law had always been a bit strained. Now with the situation at hand, they were even worse.

Then there was Leon….

It was at that moment that Claire saw her ex-husband. He was standing at the front door, engrossed in conversation with an elderly woman, probably another sympathetic griever. Despite all that was going on Claire couldn't help but notice how wonderful he looked. He wore a black suit, probably expensive and tailored specifically for him, and had his shaggy hair strewn about his head. Those baby blue eyes still twinkled brightly despite the whites being a bit bloodshot. He looked thinner, but it made no difference. The man was attractive, beautiful even. And, as always, professional and business like.

For a moment Claire wanted to run to him, to smell him. She suppressed it with another drink. There wasn't a point. Emotions only got you into trouble. It was a hard lesion but Claire Redfield Kennedy had learned it. Satisfying herself with pointless sexual encounters was much better than investing herself into a long term, committed relationship. If you suppress emotion or feel nothing at all, it's easier when everything falls apart.

"So you showed. I didn't give you enough credit."

Claire froze, feeling like she'd been caught masturbating in her bed. The voice was behind her, soft but unyielding. She didn't turn around knowing already who it was.

"So, you found me." Claire tried to recap the flask discreetly.

Jill Redfield sighed, disgruntled. "Look in the shadows and you'll find things lurking g. Trust me, I've had experience."

Claire shook her still damp hair from her face and turned around, deftly slipping the flask into her pocket. "Thanks. Nice to know I'm lurking. It's good for the self esteem."

"You aren't lurking, you're drunk." Jill pointed out, arms crossed and glare unwavering.

Claire shrugged. "Just paying my respects." she glanced around. "Quite a turn out."

Jill's look was icy at best. "Leon's here. Might want to say hi to him."

At the mention of Leon Kennedy, Claire felt her inner temperature begin to rise. Wanting to strike out the best way she knew how, she lit up a cigarette. Jill's eyes flashed but she made no move, said nothing, waiting for Claire's response.

"Yeah, I saw him." Claire said. "So?"

Jill chortled. "I don't get it. The two most honorable men I've ever known in my entire life love you more than anything in the world. They worship the ground you walk on. It's totally baffling."

"Jealous?" Claire was angry again, liquor fueling her. She finished her smoke, dropping it to the ground and crushing it out on the salmon pink carpet. She watched Jill bristle, loving every minute of it. Neither moved, frozen by rage.

"Get out." Jill growled her voice barely above a whisper.

Claire blinked. "Excuse me?"

Jill took a step forward, her finger in Claire's face. "Take your goddamn sarcasm and your alcohol out of my home. I don't need your antics." She hissed her voice still low. "And neither does my husband."

"Oh, right! I forgot." Claire's voice raised and she didn't care. "Chris is all yours now. I shouldn't matter now that you've claimed him, you frigid bitch!"

Their conversation had now attracted onlookers. The house had become eerily silent save for the arguing. Jill's face twisted.

"Get out." Jill rasped.

Claire laughed and shook her head. "Fuck this shit. Fuck it." She stormed away, almost to the door. "Fuck it."

Brother and sister, standing in front of a mirror, just staring.

"You look good… I guess."

"Well, do I or don't I? Guessing isn't going to work this time Christopher!!"

"Pretty. You're pretty. Does that work?"

"As long as you're sincere."

"As sincere as I can be, knowing that some punk kid is coming to my home to pick up my sister in a death trap."

A scoff. "First of all, Christopher, Leon is not a 'punk' kid. He's a nice boy. And secondly, he doesn't have a death trap. It's a perfectly safe Camero."

"Sure. That's why it always leaves oil stains in my driveway, Claire."

There was a brief moment of exasperated silence.

"Honestly, I look ok?"

The brother took another look, this time closely and seriously with all joking aside. "You're beautiful."

Claire flew past her brother on the way out of the house, not even acknowledging him. She muttered a few curse words to herself as she fished her motorcycle keys out of her pocket. She was pissed at life, but more pissed off at herself. She'd expected a frosty reception and to be treated like an outsider. There was no excuse for the language or words exchanged inside the house, Claire knew that, and she also knew that Jill would be off the hook. Everyone would gather around the deprived mother and offer their sympathies, apologies for that "horrible sister of Chris'".

"Claire!!"

She stopped in her tracks. If any other voice had spoken her name she would have kept walking. This wasn't any ordinary person calling her name. And so she paused, spinning around, bracing herself for the visual impact. He stood in front of her, the light rain beginning to plaster his blonde locks to his skull. One look in those angelic blue eyes showed pleading and, if not for wishful thinking, hope.

"Claire, wait." Leon Kennedy said evenly.

Claire tried to plaster an indifferent look on her face. "What do you ant Leon? I'm kind of late for an important date."

"I'm glad you came." He replied, unfazed. "Even Jill is, although she isn't showing it."

At the mention of Jill, Claire exploded. "Isn't showing it?! She fucking hates me! And that's the best part too. See, if I didn't show, I'm a spoiled bitch black sheep brat and if I do show, then I'm a disgrace. I'm the fucking bitch black sheep brat that killed her nephew."

Leon said nothing as Claire climbed on her bike and fired it up. She revved the engine, and then took off, her back tire throwing mud and gravel all over. In a moment she was gone leaving only a single tire track.

Leon watched her go. The rain began to fall harder and he didn't notice. All he could do was stare. It seemed so long ago that the woman on the speeding Buell had been his wife. They'd been happy, once upon a time. Two crazy kids brought together by teenaged hormones and stayed together through the transition to adulthood.

He'd proposed on the Saturday after their high school graduation. Everyone had told him he was crazy, especially Chris Redfield. Nevertheless Leon Kennedy had dropped to one knee and asked for Claire's hand in marriage and she'd readily accepted.

They'd married in a beautiful outdoor ceremony, promising each other now and forever. For seven long years they'd done well but after one horrible night in November, forever had been cut dramatically short.

Now he was stuck between hate and love, watching his ex speed away in the middle of a downpour, her helmet forgotten on the front porch step. Part of Kennedy wanted to jump in his car and race after her. The other half wanted to turn his back forever, forgetting every feeling.

"Smoke?"

Leon was forced back into reality and it took him a moment to realize where he was. He turned around to see Chris Redfield behind him, hands stuffed in his pockets. Even though he hadn't touched a cigarette in years, the situation seemed to make an exception.

"Meet me on the porch."

Claire pulled into her hotel just as the storm let up. She parked and dismounted, fuming and desperately needing to re fill her flask. Angry and soaked she made her way to her door, barley making it inside before an unexpected thunderclap brought another wave of rain. She stripped down on the way to the mini fridge, throwing wet clothes haphazardly about. Only wearing a tank top and panties, Claire refilled her flask, taking a huge drink from the bottle, draining what was left.

"Fuck." Claire muttered to the empty Jack Daniels container.

A blurry, heavenly few minutes later, the Beatles filled the air and Claire was lying on the bed. Her head spun delightfully and she couldn't think of anything bad "Happiness is a Warm Gun" droned in the background of Claire's disjointed thoughts. She closed her eyes, thinking of Leon and Chris and Jill and Max and Cody.

Leon Kennedy eased the gas pedal slightly. He kept an eye on the weather as the downpour continued. Street signs blurred and he was on auto pilot. Thoughts of Claire Redfield dominated him even though he knew he should be concentrating on the road conditions.

After all this time he still loved her. She was his first and only love. NO one else could ever come close to touching his heart the way she had. It was true she was a complete disaster and not even Leon could contest that. The light in her eyes had died after they'd lost their only child.

Grief filled Leon. The grief was followed by jealously and then shame. After Cody's passing Claire had detached herself from everyone and everything that had reminded her of the lost child. Leon had been supportive until the point when he broke. Anguish filled him because of the death of his son and jealous chased it, knowing that Cody had taken away not only his namesake but the only woman he had ever loved in his entire life.

Thoughts drifted away as Leon turned into the Pink Park Hotel. He found the first available parking spot and whipped in his SUV, throwing it into park and killed the engine. He barely felt his feet hit the pavement on the way to her door, knowing she would listen to him.

He knocked.

She had to listen.

A rap at her door drew Claire out of the solitary darkness. She muttered a cruse, pulling herself out of the trashed bed. Her head pounded with soberness and she answered it by draining the contents of a nearby Jack Daniels bottle, which allowed her only a few luscious drops. The alcohol seemed to dull the headache and that was enough for her.

Staggering to the hotel door, she threw it open, a tirade of expletives on the tip of her tongue, ready to unleash on the unexpected visitor. The words died where they had started as soon as she saw the soggy intruder standing there. Her curses faded from her mind and she moved to the side, letting him enter

"Get out." Leon Kenned rasped.

Claire started at him puzzled. "What?"

A figure, lying motionless on the bed, stirred and a head popped up. She blinked, not comprehending. A man was in her bed. A man was in her bed and for the life of her she couldn't remember how he'd gotten there.

"Who the fuck are you?" the man rasped, sitting and pulling the covers around his naked body.

"I'm the fucking cops asshole." Leon growled. "Get out before I bust you for whatever the hell you just shot up with."

Claire watched the forgotten man move like lightening. He gathered his clothes as modestly as it could, throw on his pants and run out the door without a look back. After he'd left, Leon slammed the door and turned hurt eyes on her.

"Another junkie one night stand Claire?" Leon drawled.

She blinked. "I don't know." She was desperate not to show weakness. "What do you care anyway? And what the hell are you doing here?"

Leon swallowed heavily and held out her riding helmet. He knew it was a feeble gesture and a horrible cover up at the real reason he was there. The speech he'd practice on the way to her steps failed him as soon as he'd seen the naked doper lying in the bed, surrounded by empty liquor bottles.

"It was to return your safety equipment but now, I don't know." He tossed the helmet on the bed and started to pace. "What I saw today at the wake broke my heart because I know you can't help what you do because you're sick. I've got this stupid, noble feeling for you, thinking I can save you. I've got to stop doing this Claire. I've got to move on. At first I Thought I was coming here to try to talk some sense into you but I think I'm really here to say I'm finished."

Claire's headache returned and she swayed uneasily, wishing for a drink. Through her drug and alcohol infused mind, she stared at him best she could. "No." panic engulfed her unexpectedly. "No." she reached out, arms shaking.

He batted her hands away, intent on now leaving. "Get away."

On the edge of desperation Claire threw herself in front of the door with her arms spread wide, blocking his path. "Please don't go."

"Why not?!" Leon screamed, his control teetering. "Why the hell not?! I have bailed you out of jail, risked my job, my career, and bribed my own colleagues to keep you from doing time. My career, Claire! Everything I did was for you and it just got thrown back in my face."

"What?" she whispered. "You bribed people?"

"Yeah." His gaze turned cold, indifferent.

Tears filled her eyes and she blinked hurriedly, hoping they would go away before they fell down her cheeks. It was too late and she began to sob, still standing with eyes locked on him. "You think this is easy? Do you think losing my son and my husband was easy for me?"

"Yeah, I think it's incredibly easy!" Leon roared. "All you do is grab a bottle and a needle and make it all go away. I'm doing this the hard way Claire. I live with the memory of my son. I face it. You drink it away."

"Well, what do you expect? I'm all alone here. I don't have anyone to help me—"

"Help you? Help yourself! All anyone has ever done is try to help you. Your brother doesn't know what to do. He's tired of trying. So am I! I love you so much and it's destroying me. I've done things that jeopardized my job and career to get you out of a bind. Each time I promised myself that it wouldn't happen again and what do I do? End up right where I'm at now."

Claire's panic turned to anger. "That's not my fault! You made your own decisions just like I make mine. Just like when you ended our marriage."

"I may have ended it on paper but you're the one who actually ended us."

"I lost my son!"

"So did I! Stop thinking you're special or that you're the only one that was destroyed by Cody's death. It's getting really old." He sighed, exhausted. "Everything has been for you. Not anymore though. You'll never see me again. Have fun with your life."

Leon reached for the door and Claire again grabbed for him. He shoved at her but Claire was past panic. She clawed at his arms desperately, Finally she was able to get her hands around his arms and she gripped as hard as she could, finger nails biting into his skin. Leon ignored the pain as he maintained his path to the door. Claire's grip tightened, followed by maniacal sobbing, incoherent words spilling from her lips.

Annoyed, frustrated and exhausted, Leon Scott Kennedy did the one thing he'd sworn to never do in his life. He struck a woman. Claire staged backwards, falling to the carpet with one hands pressed to her cheek. Leon froze. For a moment, he though of bolting but that would have undoubtedly led to even more chaos.

"Claire." His voice broke as he spoke. "Are you okay?"

Kennedy moved to her side offering assistance that Claire refused. She scuttled away still holding her cheek. Her eyes were locked on his, wide and afraid, brimming with tears. "I just wanted you to stay!" Claire screamed in between tears. "I've just always wanted everyone to stay but they never do. Everyone leaves."

A brother and sister stood in a suit and wedding dress, both staring into the mirror before them.

"Claire Kennedy. Sounds too damn proper if you ask me."

"It's a good think no one did then."

A long pause. "Are you sure you want to do this Claire?"

"I wouldn't have said yes unless I wanted to, Chris." A sideways glance. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Do what?"

"Give me away."

"I'm not giving you away. I'm just… letting Leon borrow you for a few years."

"Nice and territorial. That's my big bro in a nutshell."

For the first time in a long while the brother was completely serious. "You may just now become his wife but you'll always be my sister."

The wake wrapped up later than expcted, leaving a trail of desctruction in it's aftermath. Jill Redfield was thankful for this despite the state of her home. It seemed that doing dishes kept her mind off of the situation and she wholeheartedly threw herself into the chore. Help was always appreciated although not needed. Tonight Jill was thankful for the company of young Sherry Birkin as she needed a sympathetic ear.

"I can't believe the nerve of that woman." Jill fumed, scraping a saucepan. "The nerve and disrespect. Coming into my home, drunk off of her drugged up ass, causing a scene. It never ends with her."

Sherry reached for the clean dish to try it. She was torn in her response. Claire and Sherry were close, at least they had been, and Sherry always viewed Claire as a mother figure as she was also an orphan. Understanding Jill's point of view was easy, she'd lost her son, but then again so had Claire. To Birkin it seemed that Claire had lost so much more and had received much less sympathy. It was almost as if Cody's death had been a practice for Max's and now everyone knew exactly what to say, to do. That didn't excuse Claire's actions but it certainly helped to explain her actions.

"Sherry?"

"Huh?" Birkin blinked.

Jill was staring at her, amused. "You've been holding that dish so long that I don't' think we'll need to dry it."

"Oh, sorry." Sherry hurriedly wiped what water droplets were present and placed it on the drying rack.

TO BE CONTINUED