Author's Disclaimer: As I have stated in all of my previous works, I do not own the rights to Resident Evil, which is the property of Capcom.
"Hey Claire?"
Claire Redfield looked up from her desk, and turned to the speaker, a young Hispanic kid wearing a grease-stained black shirt with the "Redfield Choppers" logo on the front.
"Is it okay if we go get lunch?" He asked, pointing his thumb out of the door of Claire's office into the vast, open working floor of the garage.
It took a moment for Claire to work out what he was saying, as though she was in a daze and nodded as she lowered her head back down to the yellow, pink and white forms that covered her desk, "Yeah, sure. Where were you thinking of going?"
The youth grinned as though he was offered the keys to his very own shop. "We were thinking of heading over to Hot Wok. Want anything?"
Claire thought hard for a minute and looked up at the clock. She didn't realize that it was almost passed two, or that her stomach was beginning to growl in protest. Naturally, she had forgotten to have breakfast. "Sure." She nodded, "Get me some eggrolls and potstickers, okay?"
"Don't wanna come?" He asked with a hint of disappointment.
Claire looked up and had an expression as though she was still in some sort of daze and said, "I'm… kinda swamped here with all of the orders. Sorry."
The youth nodded and gave her a thumb up before turning and walking back to the garage, shouting that lunch was on.
Claire listened to the clattering of tools being put away and grease monkeys talking about what they were planning on having, how bad their favorite teams did, and how their families were doing. She could a face and name to every voice, yet cursed herself for eavesdropping on her employees.
When Rodrigo, yes that was the youth's name, finally closed the door, Claire leaned back in the rolling chair and let out a sigh of fatigue as her hands ran across her cheeks and covered her eyes.
The familiar, foul stench of body odor invaded her nostrils, and she frowned in disgust at herself before leaning forward and walking over to the communal washroom. As she stared at the woman in the mirror looking back at her, she saw someone who was getting pretty worn out. Several strands of her red hair, enough to be noticeable, managed to escape her usually well-kept ponytail and stood defiantly on top of her head like a crown. Gray circles smudged her just under her eyes, barely noticeable to all but her, and her eyes revealed a fatigue and wear that was taking its toll from so little sleep.
The young Redfield groaned and turned the faucet on full-blast. She let the water run for a moment before cupping her hands to catch the water and splash it against her face. As the cold water stung her skin and clung for a moment before sliding down her cheeks, she cupped her hands for a second offering and hit her face again with a splash of chill.
After a third splash, she rubbed her hands against her cheeks and closed eyes and massaged her face quickly and roughly, as if she hoped to rid herself of any traces of her fatigue. When she finished, she turned the water off, ripped a sheet of paper towel out of the wall dispenser, and started rubbing it against her face lightly to rid herself of any traces of stray droplets.
Claire took one more look at herself in the mirror and sighed softly. It had almost been three weeks since she had last had a good night's rest, and just that long since she began to feel… just… what?
What was it she was feeling right now? Was she stressed about the pile of orders she was getting now for her bikes? Of course not. If anything, this was a slow period for her. Was she worried about not being able to pay for her supplies and equipment, let alone her employees? Not in the least. Slow period or not, she was still making a good living on the shop, and she never seemed short of money to pay for anything. Hell, she had practically paid off the building she was using as her shop the first year she opened it.
As she walked out of the bathroom and passed the four bikes in various states of completion, she heard her favorite song, Wish I had an Angel, playing on the radio.
What about Chris and Jill? They couldn't have been better! Especially since they both got married practically right after Umbrella went under, and now Chris thought Jill was, of all things, pregnant! Claire couldn't help but laugh a little at the thought of big tough Jill Valentine as a mother, taking a little version of Chris and herself to school in a big SUV or soccer practice, fretting when he or she wouldn't come home till midnight as a teenager.
What was it then? The thought plagued her like a demon even as she found her seat and turned up the volume on the radio, so that the music practically blared into her ears.
"I WISH I HAD AN ANGEL, FOR ONE MOMENT OF LOVE! I WISH I HAD YOUR ANGEL, YOUR VIRGIN MARY UNDONE!!"
She closed her eyes as she heard the next part of the chorus.
"I'M IN LOVE WITH MY LUST!! BURNING ANGEL WINGS TO DUST!!"
And a flash of Leon's face blazed brilliantly in the darkness of her eyelids.
A gasp escaped her lips as she shot back out of the chair and turned the volume down, her hand trembling.
"I wish I had your angel tonight!"
Claire felt her heart pumping quickly as the rest of the song played out, her cheeks turning red with the sudden influx of blood. When she closed her eyes again, she still saw that familiar face silhouetted against the darkness.
When she opened her eyes this time, the realization struck her like a wave. All of her sleepless and restless nights, of all things, all started three weeks ago.
And it was three weeks ago that she drove Leon to the airport for his mission.
She shook her head in disbelief. Why would she be losing sleep over Leon? It was crazy, she reasoned without words as she paced around her office. He was more than capable of taking care of himself, and he had been on more dangerous missions for longer time before.
Then again, did that make his absence any less worse? Claire turned to the window that allowed her to look out at her garage and pulled the blinds as far as she could. She took in the sight of red towers brimming with tools and the half-finished motorcycles and smiled proudly at herself. Leon was the one who encouraged her to get into this, more than anyone else in the world. Chris thought it was a good idea, but preferred that she did something more… productive?, with her time. Yet Leon never wavered in his belief that she could open the shop. Hell, he even lent her a portion of the funds to set it all up.
The irony was, Leon never was, nor ever seemed capable of being, a bike fan. At least, not at the level that Claire was.
The more Claire thought about the shop and what it took to make it happen, the more she found herself thinking about that man who was over in Spain right now. Who would have thought that a man who pointed a gun at your face when you first met would be someone you would…
"Would what?" She asked to no one but herself in a voice so low it may have been an illusion.
What was she feeling right now? Could it possibly be true that she was actually crushing on Leon Scott Kennedy?
Well… why not? Why couldn't she have feelings for someone who became her best friend? After all, with all of the things they witnessed and the horrors they had to go through, they deserved to be close.
But it was more than the horrors, Claire realized as she sat back in her chair and rocked back and forth. There was something else, always something else. That… understanding and level of intimacy that only came from someone who suffered a loss just as great as yours, and knew the pain too well.
She remembered too clearly what happened six years ago, when she and Chris finally touched down at an Air Force base. They were dragged through showers and decontamination rooms until their skin was peeling off of their bones. Finally, after what seemed like only a split second of sleep, Claire was shoved into an interrogation room, where she beheld the first smiling face that wasn't her brothers.
Leon. Sitting there looking all prim and proper in a military dress uniform. He looked almost like Chris did in his old Air Force days.
He had brought her coffee. Even though it wasn't how she takes it, it was still the best tasting coffee she ever had, if only because of the intentions behind it. A part of them knew that they were both there merely for procedure, yet… there was still some deeper meaning to him being there, aside from taking her statement on the events.
She recalled just how soft his voice when encouraging her to continue. Never in her life did she have to do something as impossible as spill her guts about that incident.
When she got to Steve, she nearly fell apart. If it had not have been for Leon holding her as she spoke and whispered that everything was okay into her ear, she may have shattered.
A tear crossed over her eye and fell down her cheek as she recalled the event. Quickly, she wiped the tear and rubbed the hand against her shirt.
She shook her head and the thought and tried to deny it. No. No, she wasn't crushing on Leon. It wasn't possible.
Not like Claire was his type, anyway. There was still Ada, that part of him he couldn't ever let go of. She knew it, and more importantly, he knew it. Now and forever, no matter her feelings, Leon Scott Kennedy was off-limits, so there was therefore no point in having feelings for him.
Still… it didn't hurt to, did it? That stubborn romantic part of her tried to reason. After all… people fall in and out of love all the time, and after all these years, would he really still want her?
Maybe… maybe not…
But Claire would never know, until she tried.
Just as Claire reached her epiphany, the main entrance flew open, and her smiling employees came back in, smiling, laughing and joking. Claire was too numb from her own inner struggle to comment or react to the sudden shift in noise.
She knew it now… she liked Leon.
More than liked. She wanted him.
Rodrigo came in with a pair of Chinese containers and knocked, "Claire? I got you your food."
"Thanks, Rodrigo." Claire smiled widely and accepted the food. She reached into her pocket and gave Rodrigo a twenty in payment.
Rodrigo looked at the currency and said, "It was only 7.50."
Claire shrugged, "Keep the rest, then." And winked as she leaned back in her chair and opened up the container with potstickers. "Our little secret?"
Rodrigo smiled widely and nodded before he waved and ran out.
Claire smiled and stood up, walked over to the door, and shut it slowly. She walked back over to her seat and leaned back as far as she could before diving into the container. As she nibbled on a potsticker contently, she resolved that somehow, someway, she would tell Leon those words that wanted to come out so bad.
"Leon Scott Kennedy…" She rehearsed to the heavens. "I love you."