Nine: This Old House

Dulvey, Louisiana – 2017

The Baker Plantation – Courtyard – 2120 (9:20 pm)

The little trailer felt stifling. The three people gathered inside of it were currently rifling through papers looking for Zoe's notes on the location of the D-Series pieces they needed for the serum. Now, ordinary folks in this situation might be panicking a little by this point.

After all, this was a series of unfortunate events that had befallen our reckless hero, his erstwhile companion, and the tag along with the same eyes as our hero's formerly deceased (recently resurrected) potentially lethally infected wife. It was categorically amusing, to the hero in question, that the little skinny thing that had been so aptly flirting with him before was currently making googoo eyes at the unflappable, unstoppable, terribly UN-amusing Chris Redfield.

Leon studied them as they dug through various areas. Chris was looking amongst her wardrobe. Zoe was, sorta, looking in her kitchen. She was, really, looking at Chris.

Curious, Leon stopped flipping papers on the little table he stood beside to observe this interesting turn of events. Maybe was looking into it too much.

Chris shifted and set his rifle down. He bent down to do it.

Leon thought: Wait for it….and there it was.

Zoe's eyes watched his ass the whole time.

Lips pursed with amusement, Leon felt her gaze kick over to him. He lifted his brows at her. Her pale face flushed fire engine red and she shrugged one skinny shoulder. Leon wiggled his brows and made a kissy face, Zoe rolled her eyes and promptly gave him the finger, and Chris stood up again.

Hurrying to keep digging in her little airstream trailer where they all gathered, Zoe avoided Leon's laughing gaze and gave him a look that might have felled a lesser man.

Curious little thing, Leon mused, she was sniffing around him an hour before she started sniffing around Redfield. On one hand, he got it. After all, what girl didn't want to sniff after Leon Kennedy?

With a snort of laughter, Leon could PICTURE Claire's face somewhere in the world as he, not only referred to himself in the third person (she DESPISED this. He did it mostly to get her goat.) But also spoke of himself with such arrogance that it was, very nearly, painful. But the truth was that girls had been jumping on his dick for years. The only thing that had stopped it had been devotion to the red haired psycho that was currently running around this nasty plantation trying to kill him.

But what kind of self hating sad little thing pined around for Chris Redfield?

He considered his brother in law and tried to see him like a girl.

Redfield wasn't…handsome. Not really. Not exactly. He was surly and kinda fat, honestly. He was hairy and wide and scarred up. He never really laughed, so he was always grumpy. Poking him to get him mad and fuming was one of Leon's singular joys in life. It was like running around with a stick trying to jab it in the eye of an angry gorilla. Eventually, it would get him killed but since he was betting he was faster than the overly roided Redfield anyway…he wasn't afraid.

Claire hadn't gotten all the looks in the Redfield family. Chris had a big jaw and a heavy brow and clearly needed a shave, at least three times a day. What was it Leon was missing here?

He watched Zoe for a moment. Her eyes shifted, her lip rolled under her teeth, and Chris shifted something in the closet. It must have had some heft behind it because he had to lift it and redirect it. His arms bunched when he did.

And there it was.

Her face just…lit up.

Really? Leon mused. The muscles? SERIOUSLY?

That was it?

To be fair, Redfield had plenty of muscles. Too many, honestly, and he could stand a good dose of cardio in the heavy lifting he was fond of. But really?

That's what chics were getting all drooly over? Big huge muscles?

Leon shifted with a little laugh and balled his fist. His arm bunched nicely. He had muscles. His were just…streamlined. Like a jaguar. Redfield was a monster truck. Leon was a muscle car. One was made to run you over and destroy you. One was bred for speed and agility and class.

Why was he standing here in the boiling Louisiana heat feeling jealous of Chris Redfield?

Absolutely stupid.

Because some little girl wasn't giggling over him anymore?

Was he that fucking shallow?

Apparently, the answer was yes.

Highly impressed with his powers of deduction, Leon turned to scan the things pinned to her little corkboard. The interior of the trailer wasn't badly decorated. It was clear she'd holed up here for some time.

The little curved couch and table were littered with newspaper articles and photos. Zoe had notated things on all the papers. Some were in red ink and clearly questioning. There was a picture of a ship that was listing to one side and a red X in a circle with a notated word: HEAD!?

What had Claire's video said? The answers were on the ship.

At the wardrobe, Chris was leafing through a folder he'd found under the box. It had images of wizened corpses. Some were curled in the fetal position. Most looked like husks or mummies that had been preserved in their tombs. There were question marks on a few of the pictures and a series of random calculations. He shifted a few pages and glimpsed over the research there.

The agent in him was shivering with something like barely leashed rage.

He spoke quietly, but forcefully, "They created her. She wasn't lost. She was fucking MADE. And they let Claire go after her like she was a little orphan needing a hug."

He snapped the folder closed after taking pictures of the contents with his phone. The Genesis in his armor told him the infection wasn't present here. It was regulated, clearly, to the house and the outbuildings. The grounds, the air, were clear.

The thing that was E-001 AKA EVELINE was only able to spread and shed the virus into existing structure. Curious. And more curious was that she could also subjugate an infected host through mental projection. The little bitch had mind control powers. So she needed to physically infect them, get them to ingest it, or engulf them in the mold that contaminated the house to rule them.

Curious and important, clearly, for fighting her. Fighting her was NOT HAPPENING in that house. At all costs, they'd needed to face her in the open air. It was their only real chance.

The last picture in the pile was of an old woman in a wheelchair. She was as dried up and ugly as the dead bodies in the former photos. Chris lifted the picture and showed it to Leon across the trailer.

"You meet this old bitch?"

Leon paused, cursed fluidly, and laughed, "You fucking with me? GRANNY?! I KNEW there was something off about the old geezer. You telling me she's ground zero here?"

"Looks that way. She's the fount anyway."

Zoe was shaking her head. "It won't do any good to kill her. She's everywhere. The old body is just her shell."

Leon shifted, annoyed. Zoe moved to gather things from a big box by the window. The décor here was straight seventies chic. It was charming , in a dated kind of way, and fit the shaggy hair on her thin face and the bell bottoms hanging in her closet.

Chris set the folder down and rifled a little in her clothes to see if there was anything else worth noting.

There wasn't.

There was…however…a very pretty little lacy black and white bra.

He stopped, blinking, and realized he was holding it aloft in his hand and staring at it.

Leon coughed loudly, Chris dropped the bra like it was on fire and, literally, jumped like someone had smacked him, and Zoe glanced over from her box.

Oh lord, Leon was kinda in LOVE with this moment. Chris Redfield – the human tank – the scourge of the undead – the blight of bioterror – the scariest fucking guy dead or alive in their business – was BLUSHING. He was BLUSHING because he'd been caught oogling a little brassiere.

Oh lord in heaven high on crack; it was the best night ever.

Leon held his gaze, wiggled his brows, and got the most dead pan expression anyone had ever made in return. HE grinned widely, glanced at Zoe to make sure her back was to them, and simulated humping the little table in front of him.

He couldn't help it.

He REALLY couldn't help it. He HAD to give the dude shit.

It was a priceless moment.

Chris rolled his tongue around his teeth, pursed his lips, and gave him the finger.

It was the second bird he'd been flipped tonight. For Leon Kennedy, it was a record.

Zoe rose, grinning a little, "There! Here, I found it!"

She moved forward, offering the little container in her hand. Leon took it, considering, and realized it was propane meant to be used in a flamethrower. His mind latched onto the memory Claire's movie she'd left for him. This is what you'll need, she'd advised, to finish Mama.

Fire.

Naturally.

Zoe paused as Leon moved to the door of the trailer and hopped out. She glanced over at saw her bra on the floor. Curious, she lifted her eyes.

Chris cleared his throat and said, a little hoarsely, "It…uh…it was by the folder. I bumped it and it fell."

Zoe lifted her eyes from the bra to him. She wasn't entirely sure, but she thought he might look a little flushed. It was hard to tell in the ugly orange light from her trailer.

But she was pretty sure his voice was hoarse.

And it made her roll her lip in again and laugh a little. "No worries, sugar. Just skivvies. We all have 'em right? Least those are clean."

She winked a little and bent to pick it up. Logically, she could have shifted out of the way and let him pass first. But what fun was that? Instead, she rose and was VERY close to him as she laid the bra back in the wardrobe.

"There." Her voice was soft. "See? No harm, no foul."

She was teasing him, entirely; she couldn't seem to help it.

And it wouldn't have been such a big deal, not really…but he glanced down at her mouth and then? Right down at her chest. Just brief. Just a flicker. But there it was. The teasing cut both ways, it seemed, and she felt her face flush.

"Sure." Gruff, she thought, his voice was very gruff. She liked it.

Zoe shifted a little toward him. He could have moved. Again, he could have MOVED. He didn't.

Her hand closed on his rifle, her arm brushed his, and she whispered, "Don't forget your gun. Probably gonna need to do a lot more killin tonight."

His palm turned and closed over the barrel of the gun. It slid down and over her hand where it rested. She should pull that hand back and let him have it, she mused.

Annnnnd she didn't.

His voice was so low it dragged, "….right. Thanks."

"Mmm. Welcome."

Zoe swayed, just a wee bit, toward him. Chris' other hand closed over her arm above the elbow to steady her. And he queried, "You ok?"

So low. They were both pretty much whispering.

She answered, "….it seems to be a bit hot in here."

"….right." He cleared his throat again, charming her, "Sweltering bayou, right?"

"Right. Just the weather."

"Maybe the infection."

"Maybe that too."

"Yeah."

Why were they still standing here!? They needed to stop Mama. They needed to find Claire. They needed to GET MOVING.

He needed to TAKE HIS HAND OFF HER, Chris thought gruffly. And yet….he didn't.

Her eyes drifted to his mouth, held, and her whisper had goosebumps popping on his neck. "What's the scar beside your bottom lip?"

Quiet. So quiet. He answered, "…claw mark…"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Nearly took my whole face off."

Her fingers curled into his vest. He could TASTE his heartbeat. And she breathed, "…what a tragedy that would have been."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah…oh yeah…it's a fucking good face…"

The gun slid to the floor with a clunk. His gloved hand lifted and gripped her face in a move so fast it left her breathless. Rough, he pulled her up to him –

The door to the trailer was jerked open, Chris let go of her like she'd burned him, Zoe jumped back so fast she stumbled into the stove, and the way too amused voice of Leon Kennedy spilled around them, "Yo! You two wanna hurry it up in here? I'd like to find my wife before I turn into a freakshow. If you're gonna start taggin, at least wait until we find the serum. Otherwise, can I watch? It's been awhile since I got some. Could use with a good porno. Course…seeing as it's Redfield staring in it, it's more like a horror movie. Be careful, Zoe, there's so many better things you could do with the thirteen seconds you'd be wasting fucking him. They don't call him the human tank for nothing. Rolls right over the top, leaves you flat, and dead…no finesse at all. Utterly fucking awful. The master of just rabbit fucking…that's just what I've heard. Just sayin."

He made a little honk honk sound when he said "taggin" and pumped his fist.

With a self-induced chortle, he let the door swing shut again.

Outside, Leon amused himself by counting the seconds before they him.

True to form, Redfield was out the door in less than three. As he stepped into the grass, he shoulder bumped Leon so hard that the other man staggered a little.

"Hey! Flag on the play. What's that about?"

With a dirty look, Chris started off into the dark toward the path Zoe had pointed out that would take them to the old house.

Leon waited for Zoe to join him.

She was red faced and quiet.

He lifted his brows at her as they followed Chris through a rusty gate toward the house.

The silence dragged, full of awkwardly delightful discomfort. Amused, Leon teased them mercilessly, "Did you guys play tonsil hockey? I heard he kisses like he fights, all painful punching and bad breath."

Zoe mused, quietly, "Well, do you fuck like you fight? All bad one liners, bragging, and mostly bullshit?"

Impressed, Leon eyed her, "You think I'm all talk?"

"Well, I've seen you fight, hot stuff. And I've cleaned you up after picking you up off the floor. If you fuck as good as you fight, I figure Claire probably spends most of the time you guys are in bed doing all the work with little reward."

Hah!

He kinda loved this girl.

Looping an arm around her skinny shoulders, Leon kissed her temple and made her laugh. "Don't try to make me fall in love with you with your filthy humor, girl, I'm an old married man."

Zoe rolled her eyes a little. "You are full of shit, Leon Kennedy. So much so that your eyes should be brown."

"Alas, they are the blue of angels. And so is the joyful dulcet sounds of my voice."

Near the next gate on their journey, Chris intoned, "Why don't you do us both a favor and shut the dulcet sounds of your voice up for two fucking seconds so we can manage to NOT get caught by bad guys? The way you jabber on like a teenage girl, you're gonna alert every fucking monster in three square miles to our location."

Leon chuckled, undaunted, and let go of Zoe as they reached the gate.

"For you, big guy? Anything. You know you're my favorite brother in law."

Chris snorted and rolled his eyes, "I'm your only one, you idiot. And that makes one of us. I'm pretty sure Claire marrying you was just a way to punish me for all eternity by making me related to the former man whore of bioterror. You think I like living down the stigma of knowing my sister wed the fastest zipper in the west? Horrifying. I can barely show my face in certain circles anymore. I think you married Claire just to spite me."

Leon laughed good naturedly, "What a hurtful thing to say!" He feigned offense and winked at Zoe as they started across the bridge toward the old house, "But it doesn't make me any less fond of you. I'm a supporter of the mentally challenged, after all, and appreciate how hard you try to keep up with the rest of us. I find your dedication admirable…even if you are dumber than a box of rocks."

They paused, the humor flagging, as they realized they were surrounded on the narrow bridge by the burnt and melting faces of babies lynched and dangling all around them. Baby dolls, thank god, but the tableau of disgust still served its purpose. Leon glanced at Zoe and said, "Your family is fucking sick, darlin."

"….I know. Help me stop them."

Chris glanced at her over his shoulder. No humor now, just truth, "We will."

They reached the far side of the bridge and eased up toward the house. Leon moved to the right firstly and rooted around for a minute.

Eyebrows raised, Chris glanced at Zoe with a question in his eyes.

She said, "Claire left something for him."

And sure enough, Leon came back with the makeshift flamethrower in his hands.

He handed the shotgun to Zoe and hefted the new weapon, grinning a little. "Man make fire…Man burn Mama."

Rolling his eyes, Chris pushed open the door to the house and cleared their way inside.

Zoe followed him, carefully.

The old house was falling apart. Although the plantation had been dirty as hell. This house was just a mess of collapsing frame and cracking plaster. Nasty pods of burping crap clung to the walls and the floor in random places, pulsing like…hives. Leon paused, watching one shift in the dying red light from a broken lamp in the corner.

The floor was wonky here too. It was sagging and collapsing. The structural integrity of the house was near utter desecration. The water that ran beneath it had eaten away at the foundation and, coupled with the hurricane that had come through, the old building just couldn't hold up.

Across from them, a wide open gulch existed that blocked their way to the other side of the house. It was a crisscrossed mess of broken floorboards, collapsed beams, and jagged pieces of broken wood. The image of Claire running through the house and showing him the way prompted Leon to start toward that side, carefully avoiding all the holes along the way.

He was halfway there when the laughter started.

It spilled around him and had him turning, eyeing the broken abyss that waited across the gulch.

A small girl stood there, the same one who'd flickered over Claire in the basement, she waved sweetly at him.

Leon glanced at his companions, curious if they saw her.

Zoe did.

She paused, grabbed Chris big arm, and halted him.

But Redfield didn't see her, likely because he wasn't nearly as infected as the rest of them. Chris asked, brow lifted, "What is it?"

Zoe breathed, "Eveline."

And his gun came up, just like that.

She grabbed the barrel, shaking her head. "It won't do any good. She's not real."

Laughing, Eveline eyed them across the divide. "I'm not?"

Zoe answered her, shaking a little. "No. You're not real. Go away, Eveline. You have no power here."

It was the wrong thing to say.

Entirely.

And likely a bad idea to taunt a psychotic monster. Probably.

Leon mused, "Not the wisest move there, kid."

Zoe whispered, "….I'm a bit of an idiot."

And Eveline threw her power at them.

The world shifted. The wind rushed. Chris was hit full bodied by it. He was thrown out like he'd been swatted. Zoe shouted and tried to hold on but she was thrown the other direction and went right out a broken window into the bayou beyond.

Chris hit the far door of the old house, went through it like it was nothing, and crashed somewhere beyond.

The power hit Leon and….seemed to part around him.

He stood there, watching Eveline quietly.

The little girl cooed, gently, "Agree. Be my Daddy. Love me. And I'll let them go. I'll let them all go. And we can be a FAMILY."

He considered it.

Would agreeing buy them time?

Would agreeing find him CLAIRE!?

Taking a chance, Leon said, "Sure. I'll be your Daddy."

And the laughter swirled around him. "LIAR! You're a BAD DADDY. DADDY'S DON'T LIE!"

The power struck him now and threw him into the gulch like he was nothing. The flamethrower skidded over the floor out of his hands and hit the wall. He plummeted, tried to grab on, and ended up in the water beneath the broken boards. He went under, sputtering, and the warm water was musty and disgusting.

It kicked up and pushed him with rough hands and slaps. He was tossed into the wall and slapped back into the broken foundation on the other side. The pain lanced up his back and out of his mouth in an angry shout.

Leon tried to grab on to something and leverage himself out of the angry waves but it was pointless. He was tossed around and smashed into concrete, kicked over and thrown at rotting wood. The third time he smashed into cold steel, it sliced down the side of his face and nearly took his eye.

He panicked, kicked against it, and pushed up. The pain gave him enough power to grab a small dangling beam above him. He wished, for a brief moment, that he had Redfield muscles after all, and Leon swung himself up and over like a gymnast.

He pushed off, grabbed the neighboring beam like a set of high bars, looped up and around three times for momentum and slung himself up to grab the edge of the floor. Turns out muscles weren't the most important thing after all. He was agile. He'd trained in so many forms of martial arts he was practically a machine.

Who needed big guns?

A set of hands grabbed his when he caught on and started pulling.

Expecting Zoe, Leon climbed out of the gulch.

"Thanks kid."

"You're bleeding."

He froze. He turned back from moving to get the flamethrower.

Not Zoe.

Nope.

"Claire…"

She looked pretty fucking awful. Her short shaggy hair was sticking up all over the place. Her clothes were SOAKED in blood. She was wearing some little white tank top (now red with blood) and it was stuck to her skinny frame like glue.

In this moment, it was really evident how much weight she had lost in three years. She was bone skinny, like Zoe, clearly starving. Her breasts…what was left of them…were so small they were little more than nipples on her narrow chest. The bloody top showed each rib, each notch in her collarbone, each part of her sternum.

She was emaciated.

Would she soon turn wizened like granny?

It was horrifying to think of it.

He said tonelessly, "You look skinny as hell, babe. Been skimping on the carbs?"

With a painful chuckle, she moved a little toward him.

His hand hesitated over the Magnum in his thigh holster.

She paused. Her eyes tracked down to it. They tracked back to his face. And the grief…the grief on her broke his fucking heart. She whispered, "It's ok…it's ok, baby. Pull it. Aim it at me. You should. It's ok."

Jesus Christ.

He left the gun in his holster.

He moved toward her and Claire lifted a hand to halt him. "Don't. Oh, Leon, I said don't."

"Right. I so often listen to wise advice after all."

He ducked a little as he moved. He ducked and scooped her up. She made a small sound of pain and jumped. He lifted her around his front, curled there with her legs wrapped around him, and kissed her.

Bad timing. Stupid.

And the only thing he could fucking think about.

Her fingers tunneled into his hair, she jerked his face up, and she just let him have it. The blood smeared all over him. Whose blood was it? A scary thought.

He'd forgotten the feel of her. Forgotten. His fucking poltergeist, she'd haunted him for three years. He couldn't BREATHE without missing her, feeling her, aching for her. And here she was, skinny and infected.

It didn't matter.

His hand went right up under her bloody tank top and palmed one of her tiny little breasts.

She made a small mewl and popped their mouths apart. "You dirty old man. You think we have time for that?"

He wanted to say something clever. He wanted to be charming and funny and witty and humorous. He'd been so good so far. He'd kept on laughing.

He'd been so good.

She was grinning down at him.

And he didn't know how long she'd even be HER.

He just didn't have the will to make a joke. He breathed, softly, "Claire…you fucking bitch…you left me. You left me. I died that day."

Her smile collapsed, her hands grabbed his face. She put their foreheads together and the tears squeezed from her eyes to roll down her cheeks. "I would NEVER leave you. Ever. Ever. I'm so sorry. I tried to get away. I tried. And when I knew…when I knew what she was…I tried to KEEP HER AWAY FROM YOU. It was the only way I knew to protect you. The only way."

They clung, shaking. They kissed, desperately.

Against her mouth, he nearly growled, "I don't need you to protect me, you stupid woman. I need you to STAY WITH ME. Don't leave me, Claire. I won't make it. I didn't make it the first time. I don't even remember the first year after you left. It's just…it's just this haze…I can't do this without you. STAY WITH ME."

The harsh whisper nearly killed her. She dropped down to stand with him. Her arms looped around him. His echoed it, nearly twice, she was so fucking skinny.

"I'll stay…I'll stay, baby, for as long as I can. I'll stay with you. I can't..I can't promise anything. I can't. But maybe…maybe I can help you stop Mama."

They couldn't stop clinging. She rubbed her nose against his face like a cat scent marking. She nuzzled at his mouth to kiss him. He was salty.

Salty.

She opened her eyes.

And he was crying.

The most powerful man in the Western World. The right hand of the President. The great Leon Kennedy. The battle axe of Bioterrorism. He was crying.

And it nearly killed her to feel it.

And it nearly HEALED her to see it.

She breathed, "Don't. Oh, baby, don't. Please don't. Don't."

But, of course, she was crying too. She clung, kissing him desperately now, and he put his face in her neck and shoulder and held on.

It was a good moment. A good moment indeed.

It couldn't get any better.

But, she was wrong about that too, because it could.

"Claire!?"

She turned, letting go of Leon.

And there was her brother. He was bleeding. He was limping a little on one side. He was holding his gun loosely in one hand.

His hair…had started to go gray in places. He was big and awkward and older.

And hers.

The soft crying turned to a horrible little sob. She pressed her hand to her mouth. She shook her head. And her big strong brother? His voice broke hoarsely when he asked, "CB -Are you alright? Are you ok?! Where the FUCK have you been?"

She shook her head and ran toward him.

And she whispered, "When did you get so old!?"

The laughter of it nearly killed him where he stood. He'd missed her like nothing he'd ever known.

He picked her up like she was nothing. He held her whiles he shook, sobbing madly now. It was painful to feel it. She racked with grief and pain. He crushed her into him, his eyes moving over her shoulder to where Leon stood watching them.

The rage on his face was something Leon understood very well.

It was hard not to feel it when you saw her. She was a shadow of herself. She'd starved and lived in fear and horror for three years here. There was no place on earth where these people could hide to protect themselves from the vengeance that came with seeing her.

He'd nearly torn the world apart to find Jill when she'd gone missing all those years ago.

He was going to tear it down, fuck it raw, and watch it burn for his sister.

His baby sister. She was so frail. Fragile. And she'd NEVER felt fragile before to him.

The strongest thing in the world, she was so weak here. Broken. Used. And starving.

Holding Leon's gaze over her shaking shoulders, the look they shared united them in a way they'd never been before. It was a pledge in silence to avenge her. It was a vow of blood to destroy to protect her.

And it was a code of brotherhood that said they'd kill anyone that stood in their way.

For the first time in a long time, the look they shared wasn't pleasant rivalry. It wasn't friendly competition. It was determination. It was shared purpose.

It was CLAIRE.