UPDATE 2018: (I started this story in 2009 - it's 2018 now and I have left it MOSTLY unedited. I prefer for it to stand as what it was. Enjoy!)
This begins a new tale. It's classified as Romance primarily though it might leeway into action from time to time through memories. It's going to be a triangle mostly Leon/Sheva/Chris is how its feeling at the moment. The story will deviate greatly from some of my works as I'm still feeling out the kinks of love without action which is a great change for me.
We'll start our tale post 5, no connection to BSAA so our hero and his lady are not yet together. They don't share a child. Though a change in story will occur in this first chapter to let you know the gist of things.
Love it, hate it: you know the drill. Drop me a line either way.
I look forward to pleasing everyone who loves me, generating new people to enjoy me, and brightening everyone's day with what I have to offer.
I. Obscurity
"…monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us. And sometimes they win."-Stephen King
So dear readers I welcome you to the world of Resident Evil. Here within these pages you won't find disaster at least not of the viral kind. You won't find monsters and mayhem and carnally devoured bodies. If you're looking for horror, it won't be here. If you're looking for the undead, I can't help you.
What you will find are characters in the throes of self discovery. You'll find romance and revenge. You'll find angst and agony and delirious denial. You'll find hope and happiness and the endless promise of something more. You may even find humor beneath the madness. So if you're looking for humanity, if you're looking for life that you will find. And it all starts with a simple phone call.
The phone call came in the middle of the night.
He was dreaming of fire. He was dreaming of death and darkness and things that breed in tiny corners of fear and birth destruction.
He was dreaming of demons and hopelessness and utter despair. He was dreaming of obscurity.
The ring tone shattered the dream, drew him from the darkness and to the dimly lit loft he called home. Forty eight floors up his loft offered nothing but views of the sky line thoroughly obscured by the tops of sky scrapers and stars.
The moon shone brightly illuminating his phone where it lay tucked negligently tucked beneath his pillow. His fingers grasped it and lifted it to his ear as he sat up, soft sheets sliding to his waist, revealing a torso honed and handsome. The scars upon his body were marks of a warrior, of a survivor and though in great contrast to the stunning movie star face, they did nothing but enhance the masculinity of the man upon the bed.
"Yeah." He sounded gruff with sleep. A glance at the clock on the nightstand told him it was just shy of the witching hour.
"Leon…it's Claire."
"Hey. You alright?" He flipped on the nightstand light, filling the darkness with the dim glow of electricity. That he even slept in the dark now was a sign of progress. It had taken months to be able to sleep without a light on.
"It's Chris, Leon. I don't know who else to call." Claire Redfield sounded stressed. It was three in the morning here in New York city that meant in Moose Creek, Montana it was one a.m. What was she doing up at that time?
Leon fumbled in his nightstand, drew out a cigarette and flipped his zippo. The first drag was akin to nirvana.
"What's wrong?" He prompted when Claire went quiet.
"He had that mission in Africa, remember?"
"Yeah. Barry briefed us all on it when he got back in the states."
"Right. He wouldn't talk about it. Wouldn't say what he'd seen there or done. He's suffering from PTSD or something, Leon. He won't leave his house. He just lays in his bathtub drinking. It's been months since then. I can't get through to him. Jill can't get through to him. We've tried everything. I called his partner, Sheva Alomar. She's flying in in the morning to try to help but I just don't know what else to do. We've tried therapy, he goes once and doesn't go back. We've tried groups for people with post traumatic stress, he just laughs about it. We've tried cajoling him. We've tried threats. He won't respond."
Leon sighed, flicking the ash off his cigarette. "Tell me the rest."
"Leon…" Claire sounded like she was trying not to cry. "I found him yesterday in his bathtub. The water was pink from blood. And the walls…god…he'd written Kijuju over and over on the walls in blood. He'd sliced open his left wrist. He was out of it when I finally woke him up. He declined the ambulance I called. Said he didn't even remember doing it. And that he'd been drinking pretty heavily. And then he kicked me out. Told me to stop meddling and mind my own business. I don't know what to do!"
Leon was already moving to the closet. "He's not going to thank me for this Claire. He's going to down right hate me. I have to know that you understand that I'm not going to be nice to him. In fact, I'm going to probably have to hurt your brother to get him out of it. Are you okay with that? I want you to know up front that I'm going to push him to face his demons. And it might come to blows between us."
"Leon you're the only person I know who struggled after that thing with the president's daughter in a similar fashion. I trust you. Will you help?"
"Of course." Leon glanced at the windows. Apparently he was leaving behind the city for the country for awhile.
Chris Redfield lived in the middle of nowhere on thirty acres of land. Moose Creek, Montana was little more then a fart in the middle of a tornado. He figured the whole town maybe had three hundred people. Whoopie doo!
"I'm on the first plane, Claire."
"Thank you, Leon. Thank you. You'll never know how much this means to me."
"Chris, please. You have to open the door." Sheva Alomar tapped gently on the closed bathroom door. "Let me in. Talk to me."
There was no response on the other side.
She'd been trying for hours to get the man barricaded in his bathroom to listen to her. The phone call from his sister the day before had had her on the first plane out of Africa.
What had happened in Kijuju still haunted her. The things they'd seen. The monsters, the murders, the horror. It kept her up at nights. Apparently, for Chris, it did more then that.
Claire had thought that maybe talking with her would help. Sheva figured it was worth a try.
Chris's house was an old farm house. It had a loft above the kitchen that could only be accessed by a ladder showing that it had started life as a barn. Three bedrooms and a bathroom sat on the main floor adjacent to the living room and kitchen area. The basement area housed another bedroom and a roughed in bath.
One of the bedrooms on the main level was filled with the typical signs of a girl child. Posters of popular tween stars, a bedspread showing the face of someone named Hannah Montana, a computer on nicely stained wooden desk and random clothing tossed negligently around the room like forgotten trash.
She'd known he'd had a daughter. She also knew that the woman they'd rescued in Africa, Jill, was the mother and Chris's estranged wife.
Claire had made it quite clear that Jill and Chris were separated and had been long before Jill had gone missing. Apparently it was an amicable split and the pair were still good friends. Though neither had attempted to file for divorce in the year and a half they'd been living apart.
They'd married; it seemed, not long after Raccoon City. Claire said that things had gone great for a few years but they'd simply fallen out of love with each other around their daughters eighth birthday and separated.
Still partners at work, they'd had a friendly relationship. No hard feelings or so Claire made it sound. And Sheva was glad as she'd harbored a thing for him ever since their time together in Africa.
It was hard not to. The man was dynamic. He was handsome, athletic, charming and funny. They'd clicked or so she'd thought. Although nothing had come of it. They hadn't even really flirted.
But now apparently Chris had shut himself off from the rest of the world. He was dealing poorly with his own emotions. Sheva was hoping she could coax him out of it.
She heard someone enter the house by the front door and assumed it was Claire back from her morning meeting at Terra Save. She was a diplomatic engineer in charge of over seas cooperation…whatever the hell that was.
Claire Redfield appeared in the hallway with a hand on one trim hip. It was amazing how trim she was considering she was about a hundred years pregnant.
Sheva didn't know anything about the husband but the shiny gold band on the woman's left hand implied there was one. Claire was soft and pretty with pregnancy, her long red hair scooped away from her shoulders in a loose ponytail. Chris's comments about her put her somewhere close to thirty, having been a mere nineteen when Raccoon City had gone down over a decade before. She was wearing a soft white sable coat with a dark brown fur border around the hood over dark jeans and dark brown boots.
Her face was pinked from the cold air outside. Sheva couldn't help but be a little jealous of the woman's obvious pregnancy and happiness. She looked like a poster child for happily ever after.
It was winter in Montana and the snow had started coming down sometime that morning. Already a pretty three inches covered the ground outside the large front window.
Sheva, of African descent, wasn't used to snow by any means. And she was a little upset with herself for not thinking of packing something more then a light jacket for near subzero climes.
"Hi," Claire smiled at her gently, "Still nothing?"
Sheva shook her head sadly and came down the hallway toward her. "Occasionally I hear him rustling around in there, water sloshing and obviously a beer top popping."
Claire nodded and moved into the kitchen to hang her coat over one of the bar stools there.
Chris's kitchen consisted of an island butchers block, a side bar with stools and your typical deep sink, fridge, and oven. He didn't own a microwave. But he did have an expensive coffee maker which had been Jill's last gift to him before their split.
Claire, in a soft pink maternity sweater of expensive angora, moved to brew a fresh pot. While she set the beans to grinding, she studied the woman standing at the edge of the kitchen with her hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans.
She'd seen her file so she knew Sheva Alomar was pretty. But she hadn't expected her to be so young. Claire judged her at early twenties which meant she and Sherry Birkin would be about the same age now. Claire was still in constant contact with Sherry since Raccoon City. In fact, Sherry's wedding was scheduled for a week from now, and Chris was supposed to give her away. They had a very limited time frame in which to get him up and running.
Sheva was dressed in dark jeans and a short sleeve butter yellow top that did fabulous things for her skin tone. Her dark hair was shoulder length and straight as a pin and looked fabulously silky. She had dark eyes cleverly outlined with soft make up and a full pouting mouth that Claire knew any man would love to nibble on.
The sister in Claire picked up right away on the other woman's attraction to her brother. Not that she could blame her. Chris was a catch, sisterly loyalty aside. But he was also probably at least a decade older, separated with a kid. She was hoping Sheva Alomar knew what kind of baggage that was.
Claire couldn't help but feel a niggling little bit of envy at the other woman's taut and toned figure. She, herself, felt like a humongous balloon with the baby bloating her body.
As if in answer, the baby kicked, and Claire put a hand to her belly with a smile as she drew down two coffee cups. "Black?" She asked Sheva, removing cream from the fridge for herself.
Sheva smiled gently. "Absolutely. You okay?"
Claire smiled tiredly. "He's kicking. He does that all the time now."
"I'm sure its awesome."
"It is." Claire put a mug on the bar in front of Sheva. "I'm sorry you flew out here for nothing. I was hoping he'd come out for you."
Sheva smiled a little. "It's okay. I think he will. We just have to give him time."
Claire nodded. And Sheva hated Chris just a little bit for putting the lines of worry on the other woman's face. Claire looked exhausted and her brother having a break down wasn't helping.
"What does your husband have to say about all this?" Sheva inquired gently, guiding Claire to a stool to sit down.
"Kevin's been…interesting about it. He thinks I'm being too soft with Chris. But he's my big brother, ya know? And he's hurting. Kevin really hates that I won't let him get involved."
Sheva nodded. "It's probably better this way. I don't think rough is the right response."
Claire gnawed her lip a little. "I should tell you. I called a friend last night to try to help. He seemed to be of a similar mind as Kevin. I've been trying for weeks with gentle. Nothings working. And then…with the blood. God…Sheva…I'm at my wit's end."
Sheva laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We'll help him. As best as we can. He has to be ready to deal with it. All we can do is be here for him."
"That's not all you can do."
Sheva jumped at the voice from the doorway. She hadn't even heard him open the door.
He stood there, against the back drop of falling snow, and he looked…hard. He was tall and dressed in a black Northface parka atop jeans and black boots. A black and red stocking cap covered him from forehead to ear. He was removing his black leather gloves and tucking them into his pockets as he knocked the snow off his boots.
"Leon!" Claire rose and waddled toward him excitedly.
The man looked up and the hard look on his face vanished, replaced by a softness that reached from eyes to body. Sheva noticed that moments before his wintery blue eyes had been cold as the snow falling outside and now they were filled with such gentleness that it was nearly startling.
He embraced the small woman, pulling her into the thick parka for a tight hug.
"Look at you," He said in a happy tone, pulling her away after a long moment to stare at her belly. "You got fat."
Claire laughed softly and cupped his face to kiss him hard on the mouth. "Still the charmer, Kennedy. Still the charmer."
Ah, thought Sheva, that helped. SPC Agent Leon S. Kennedy was well known in the BSAA. He was the right hand of the President. He was also the man they called when they wanted it done quick, efficient, quietly and under the table. There were more confidential and high security clearance files in his folder then James Bond. In the right circles, Leon Kennedy didn't exist. He was a spook, a spectre, a ghost. His file stated he was also a survivor of Raccoon City. And Chris had mentioned he'd survived it with Claire.
Claire stepped away from him as Leon removed his sock hat. Thick hair the color of dark honey spilled free to tumble (the way only a really expensive hair cut can) over one eye. He tossed his head a little, which seemed like an old gesture, and the hair settled gently to brush the line of his jaw.
Yeah, Leon Kennedy was a ghost but no one had mentioned that the ghost was gorgeous.
Claire took his hat and his parka when he unzipped it and removed it, moving over to hang it on the standing coat rack beside the door.
"How was your flight?" She queried while Sheva Alomar studied the toned physique nicely show cased in a black form fitting long sleeved thermal.
"Eh. It was the red eye. Screaming babies, sleeping CEOs, the usual." Leon skimmed a hand over Claire's soft red hair. "You look good kid. Kevin treating you right?"
"Like a queen." Claire smiled. "Thank you for coming, Leon. I mean it."
"Bah. I was coming for Sherry's wedding anyway. One week early, no biggie." He took Claire's hands, squeezed. "But I meant what I said Claire. Don't thank me yet. And promise me you'll stay clear of it."
"I promise."
Leon lifted his eyes and finally took notice of Sheva.
His first reaction was how silly to have discounted someone who obviously had training written all over her. His seconded was purely male. She was beautiful and very young and obviously the partner from Africa.
He held out a hand. "Leon Kennedy."
"Mr. Kennedy, your reputation precedes you. I'm Sheva Alomar."
They shook. Leon, no fool, felt a tiny spark of something in the touch of skin. Not that it mattered. He wasn't here looking for a spark of anything. And he was a man after all. A pretty woman was a pretty woman no matter what the circumstances.
"It's Leon." Leon released her hand. "And don't believe a word of it."
Ah, Sheva thought, he could be charming. That smile said worlds. It was knock your socks off sex on a stick.
Leon turned back to Claire. "Where is he?"
"He's in the bathroom. The doors locked. He won't answer. We've been trying all morning."
Leon nodded and moved into the kitchen, looking through drawers.
Sheva met Claire's eyes with eyebrows raised. The front door opened again and another man entered, stomping the snow off his boots.
He was dressed in a dark green parka similar to Leon's. Age wise, Sheva couldn't judge him. But he was likely somewhere in his thirties. He had shaggy dark hair that was attractively unruly and a five o'clock shadow at nine a.m.
His eyes were a shade of blue slightly darker then Leon's in a face that was strong jawed and handsome with a slightly crooked nose that hinted at having been broken once or twice in his life. When the jacket came off, he had the build of a football player: tough and strong. He clearly took care of his body which was housed in a white t-shirt over faded light jeans.
Sheva thought the cowboy boots on his feet were a nice touch and somehow managed to make the package.
Claire moved toward him and they embraced, kissing softly. Obviously this was the husband.
"Hi." Claire smiled as they parted. "You didn't have to come. I told you Sheva was here and Leon was coming."
The husband shrugged and rubbed a hand over her belly. "It's starting to really come down out there. I didn't want you trying to drive home alone."
Leon glanced up from his search. "Hey Kev."
"Leon."
"Your wife looks fat."
"My wife looks awesome. And you look jealous."
Leon chuckled and went back to rummaging. "You're probably right. It's my own fault. I sort of introduced you."
"Chris introduced us. It just took you pushing her to get her to finally agree to go out with me."
Leon chuckled. "Survivors pity. She felt obligated."
Kevin rolled his eyes good naturedly.
"Besides," Leon commented, "She only went out with you because I turned her down first."
Claire snorted.
Kevin gave Leon the finger.
Claire smiled at Sheva and gestured. "Kevin, this is Sheva Alomar. Sheva, my husband, Kevin Ryman."
Sheva lifted her brows. Well that made sense. Another Raccoon City survivor. If files and memory served, this one had been a cop. He'd escaped with a handful of others. That explained the connection between Leon and Kevin, Kevin and Claire, and Kevin and Chris. Clearly they'd all known each other.
Leon finally stood with a screwdriver in one hand.
"It's good you're here actually. You can run herd on these women while I oust Claire's brother from the bathroom."
Sheva's eyebrows sprang high up into her hair. "Run herd on us?"
Kevin grinned. "Don't mind him. He's a superb agent apparently. He's also dumber then a box of rocks about women."
Leon shook his head and crossed toward the hallway. "I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt. But then he's coming out. One way or another."
Sheva moved to step in his way. "Wait a second. He's suffering. You're not going to go in there and drag him out."
Leon looked down at the slender hand on his chest. Nice fingers, long, piano hands. He met the stunning face attached to it. "I am. If you can't handle that, go wait outside."
"He's hurting!" Sheva stated emphatically, "The last thing he needs is Rambo storming in there and forcing him out."
Kevin chuckled. "Rambo? He's too skinny to be Rambo."
"Stuff it, Ryman." Leon retorted.
"Kevin." Claire admonished. "Stay out of it."
"Well he is." Kevin muttered. "I'm just sayin."
Leon and Sheva faced each other squarely. "Look," He said finally, "I'm sure you care about him or you wouldn't be here. But right now he doesn't need kindness. He doesn't need pampering or catering or patience."
Sheva pushed a little on his chest. He didn't budge. "So he needs to treated like a child? You gonna storm into his room and spank him?"
Kevin snorted. "What a mental image."
Claire slapped him on the arm again. "Hush."
"What?" Kevin stuck his hands into his back pockets and rocked on his boots. "I agree with, Kennedy. I've been saying it forever. Your brother needs a kick in the ass. I don't blame you for trying it the easy way, honey. Really I don't. But he's beyond that."
Sheva tried another little push. Leon didn't move.
His eyes went down to her hand and back up to her face. "I'm here to help him. You have to let me do that. You have to trust me."
"Trust you?" Sheva inquired. "I don't even know you."
"Sheva." Claire said softly. "Let him try. Please."
"If this doesn't work," Leon stated quietly. "You can go back to doing it your way. But so far, that hasn't done shit. And he has a daughter who needs him. So move and let me try."
Another handful of moments passed before Sheva shifted aside. "Fine. But I don't like this at all."
"Dually noted." Leon started down the hallway.
Kevin shifted to follow. "You guys stay out here. Okay? Please? Given the size of your brother and his current state, I don't think that skin and bones can handle him alone."
Claire nibbled her lip in worry but nodded and sat down at the bar, sipping her coffee.
Leon knocked on the door. "Chris. It's me. Open the door."
There was a rustling on the other side. The sound of water striking porcelain as the bath tub came on.
Kevin and Leon locked eyes.
Leon knocked again. "Chris. Open up. We know you're in there. Put the beer down and step away from the bathtub."
Kevin chuckled a little. "Very cop like."
"Thanks. I had a lot of practice at being a cop. One whole day."
Leon lifted the screwdriver, stuck it between the door and the jamb at the lock and gave it two solid whacks with the flat of his hand.
The flimsy lock gave and the door burst open, banging against the opposite wall. It was like opening a proverbial Pandora's Box. They had no idea what horrors were waiting on the other side.