He is standing over a chasm, twisted debris and smoldering rubble are barely discernible within it's depths. Darkness envelopes him like a great cloak. There are no stars out; the skies are inked with thick, choking smoke. It is hard for him to breathe. He coughs, and the heat from the unseen fire presses heavily on his back. Moans can be heard from the source of the heat; he senses hands reaching out toward him; he is scared. There is nowhere for him to go. Something crashes loudly behind him; something is coming, something more dangerous than the creatures he had been running from. Sweat pours from his body, soaking him. Die or die? Those are his only choices.

Suddenly, something is behind him; it's fetid breath hotter than the invisible fire. He could jump; deny the creature his flesh. But he knows he cannot. He knows he is no coward, no matter how great the threat. His grip tightens on the gun, and he draws strength from it. He turns to face the monster....

Bolt upright. A dream. A nightmare. Sweat is plastered to his face, and he is panting as if he just ran a marathon. The dream still feels real; the memories hold him there for a moment longer, petrified, and he lets out a great, shaky breath. The sheets are drenched, he pulls them off the bed as he climbs to his feet, wads them up, and tosses them in the hamper that adjourns the bathroom door.

He feels along the wall for the switch, and then squints as the bulb comes to life. The cold water tap sputters for a moment before it flows in the sink, he washes the sleep from his eyes, and shivers.

He leans heavily on the edge of the sink, reluctant to look at his own reflection in the mirror.

'This is stupid.' He berates himself. Still, he walks away without looking up. He doesn't turn on anymore lights as he makes his way to the kitchen; he knows the way. He smiles at the lump on the couch as he passes through the living room, and he is careful to close the door between the rooms so he doesn't wake his guest with the light.

He grabs a glass from the cupboard above the sink,and fills it halfway with Jack Daniels. Then, almost as an afterthought, he gets a few ice cubes from the freezer and adds it to the drink. He swirls the amber liquid around with his finger, and downs it, grimacing.

He fills it again, and then a third time. He felt steadier, calmer.

"Leon?" His guest stepped through the door, squinting her blue eyes at the light. Leon smiles at her, and gestures at the chair opposite himself.

"Hope I didn't wake you." Leon is glad for the company. She opens the top cupboard, pulls a glass down, puts a few ice cubes in it, and grabs the Jack as she takes a seat. Unlike him, she only sips it.

"No. Couldn't sleep." She seems thoughtful for a moment, then continues. "What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep." Leon is reluctant to tell her about his dream. He almost feels ashamed, she is his best friend, after all.

"Come on, I know that's not it. You're not telling me something." Her blue eyes peer intently into his eyes, and he has to look away.

"Claire...." Leon begins, but then cannot bring himself to finish. Claire takes his hand suddenly, and he squeezes it, drawing strength from her. "The dreams...I couldn't sleep." She nods her understanding, and releases her grip. She was there, too. She knows the horror of that accursed town; that Hell that Umbrella Corp. had wrought when it let the T-Virus leak out on the unwitting citizens in Raccoon City.

In a gulp, she finishes her drink, as if to drive away the memories he saw lurking behind her eyes. She stands and comes up behind him. Claire ruffles his hair, something that normally would drive him to distraction, but in this case, it warmed him as the alcohol had not. "Come on, let's play Halo; maybe it'll help you if I kick your ass."

"You wish! The day you kick my ass at that game...

"Wasn't that yesterday?" Claire pulled gently on Leon's arm, and he rolled his eyes as he stood. They played Halo on the X-Box until Claire's persistent yawning became almost as frequent as a bad case of the hiccups. Leon turned off the system without warning.

"Oh, come on, tired already of getting your ass handed to you?" Claire yawned the last part, and Leon chuckled.

"No, you sound like you're tired of kicking my ass. All that yawning was distracting me, anyway. I can't concentrate when you...*yawn*sound...*yawn*like...*yawn*this....*yawn*." Leon said, grinning at Claire goofily. She chucked a pillow at him, and it bounced off his face.

"Oh, you're just mad cuz I'm better at something than you."

"Hey, I can't help it you're helpless at everything but Halo." Leon shot back jokingly. Claire laughed, and Leon stretched languidly. "Get some rest, eh? You can kick my ass some more first thing in the morning."

"If you insist..." Claire smirked. "But I get the bed!" Both of them shot to their feet; this was an old game. Claire raced in front of Leon, hauling ass through the hallways. He lagged behind her on purpose, he didn't mind sleeping on the sofa. She burst through his bedroom door and then he heard a loud "THUD!" from inside the room, followed by an even louder "SHIT!" from Claire.

"You alright?" Leon asked as he rounded the corner. She was on the floor, grasping her ankle, cursing expletives that would have made a sailor blush. Leon knelt beside her, and inspected her foot. Swelling was already beginning, and a faint trace of purple lay under the skin.

"I twisted it on that goddamn rug of yours. Oh, sonuvabitch!" Claire's eyes were misty, but she didn't cry. Leon lifted her easily in his arms, and when Claire tried to protest, he shushed her harshly.

"Stay here." Leon instructed as he lay her on his bed. He made haste as he went back to the kitchen for an ice pack, and while he was there, he grabbed their glasses and the Jack. Soon, he had her ankle propped up on a pillow, iced, and each of them had a drink in hand.

"I should get hurt more often here, the service is great." Claire winked at him.

"But not free." Leon joked.

"You pig!"

"That's not what I meant...But if you're offering..."Leon wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Claire was quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful.

"How long has it been for you? Since...her." Claire asked quietly, looking away from him. Leon frowned.

"Does it matter?" Irritation leaked into his tone; this conversation made him uncomfortable.

"Leon...." Claire hesitated, and then looked him square in the eyes. "I know. I know you loved her; still love her. But she's dead, Leon. Isn't it time you were happy again? I adore you, and it hurts me to see you beat yourself up so much, for so long." Leon remained stoic as she continued. "Why don't you see someone? Why have you never, not in four years, even looked at another woman? You are funny, smart, devastatingly handsome, sweet as honey, and insanely rich after the lawsuit; you have everything that a woman could ever want."

"It's not that simple..." Leon took her hand, and squeezed it gently. "I don't know how to explain it. I just don't have the desire to go out; I'm a wreck. What woman would want to keep me after she heard me screaming in the middle of the night from the ghosts that still haunt me?"

"I would." A blush crept up Claire's face after the last syllable died, and Leon was stunned into silence. Claire let go of his hand, and he could see the tears brimming in her eyes as his silence stretched on. "So that's it? I lay myself out like that and..." Leon grabbed both sides of her face, and kissed her hard. Her lips moved underneath his own, warm and moist as her tongue darted out, seeking entry. He gave in to her wholeheartedly, his breathe catching in his throat. He moved over her, covering her body with his own. She arched her back and moaned into his mouth, her hands seeking to pull him closer to her. Then, as suddenly as Leon had kissed her, she pushed him back roughly.

"What's wrong?" Leon asked, confusion etching his features. He had been so enrapt in the taste of her, the feel of her skin, the passion burning in her sapphire blue eyes as she had gazed up at him...

"This is too fast," Claire whispered breathlessly. She was searching his eyes for forgiveness. He smiled at her gently, and nodded as he came to a sitting position beside her.

"Sorry, Claire. Guess I just got carried away with your tongue in my mouth and all..." Leon said, and Claire punched him lightly in his shoulder as her face burned red. "So...how's tomorrow night at eight?"

"That sounds great," Claire smirked at him, a mischievous turn of her full lips. "Maybe if you play your cards right, you'll get lucky."

"Oh, you tease!" Leon tackled her, which spurred her into a giggling fit, and the two wrestled playfully, kissing and groping, until they were once again caught up in each other. And this time there was no going too fast.

Fin.

Randomness is cleansing. Here's a small tidbit.

Let's see if you guys can guess where my next quote comes from: "What we've got here is...failure to communicate. Some men you just can't reach. So you get what we had here last week. Which is just the way he wants it. Well, he gets it."

This story is dedicated to those who enjoy a little fluffy story; something cute and sweet and to the point, without the usual smut that I usually incorporate into my works of fiction. Hence it's short span...I get bored easily, what can I say?

Keep your spice cupboards full, good citizens; keep those noses clean.