She had hit the ground running, never stopping until she reached the train station, buying a ticket for the next train, regardless of its destination, in her broken French and boarding as soon as she could. She'd dialed the number in the lavatory as soon as the train had started moving, explaining everything as quickly as she could to the female voice in the other end. After she'd hung up she'd spent the majority of the train ride sobbing quietly in the toilet, her jacket pressed to her face to muffle the sounds.

That had been ten days ago and she'd woken up exhausted the next morning in a tiny, dingy room in Paris, in the only hotel with an office she'd been able to find still open. Now she was in Calais, scribbling with a pen in a notebook on the table in front of her along with a mostly cold café au lait, her sunglasses pulled down over her eyes to protect her from the morning sun. She hardly looked up from her writing when Chris Redfield sat down across from her, but her body stiffened noticeably.

"Beautiful weather we're having," he crossed one leg over the other, motioning the waiter for a cup of coffee.

"Stunning," her voice was monotone in reply. She finished writing and looked up, laying the sunglasses on the table in front of her. Her eyes were dull, sunken from lack of sleep. The man in front of her had a broad, open face, the kind people inherently wanted to trust, to open up to, despite the bristly demeanor he practically exuded out of his pores. She didn't know his name, never would, didn't know if he was even one of Leon's contacts, but didn't care anymore. She just wanted this all to be over, one way or another. "How is he?"

"You know I can't answer that either way,"

"Yea," she shook her head, smiling weakly, "but it was worth a try."

"Care to join me for a walk?" She nodded and he threw a handful of change on the table, leaving his coffee untouched. They strolled around the streets, silence between them, and it reminded her painfully of the last time she'd spent the day walking around a French costal town. They reached a pier, one that looked out over the water, and she turned to him as he leaned his forearms against the barrier. She passed him the sample and the notebook, their hands hidden over the side of the rail, hers icy cold against his rough, warm ones.

"Everything I know is in that book," he tucked them both into his jacket, passing her a passport and a new wad of cash in exchange for the cell phone and her own blood-stained funds. He walked with her to the train station, his unfamiliar and huge presence somehow comforting after so many days alone and afraid.

"Someone will be waiting for you at the train station in Dover; an older couple, the woman will probably be wearing something bright pink."

"Great," she bit her lip, "well if you'll excuse me, I'm sure you're a really nice guy, and I appreciate everything you've done, but I hope I never see you again." He had to smirk at that,

"Likewise," he turned to leave, but she called out to him again.

"Hey, one more thing. If you ever see him around, just around or whatever, will you just tell him," she paused, lips quirking into a frown as she tried to condense everything she wanted to say into one relay-able message, "that I'll miss him?" Chris paused for a moment, biting the inside of his lip, his eyebrows furrowing behind the frames of his own sunglasses. What women saw in that shaggy-haired whelp was beyond him.

"Yea, if I see him around, I'll let him know."

"Thanks," she gave him a last half-hearted smile, and hitched up her bag, stepping onto the train and out of sight.

When Chris arrived back at the hideout Leon had dragged himself into the homey little kitchen and was staring blankly at a bowl of cereal in front of him, his leg propped up on a chair. He had spent the last week and a half miserable and confined to bed rest, having everything relayed to him second hand by Claire or Rebecca who had been brought in to patch him up.

"Here," Chris tossed his cell phone and what was left of his money on the table in front of him. The wad of cash was still fairly thick; most of it too bloody to be of use any longer.

"It's done then?"

"Yea," the older man walked past the table to the refrigerator where he pulled out a bottle of water, twisting off the cap and taking a swig, "as far as you're concerned anyway." Leon nodded, still pushing his cereal around in its bowl,

"How'd she look anyway?" Chris set his water down and stepped back over to the table, shrugging

"Honestly, what do you want me to say, Kennedy? That she looked like a million bucks? She looked like hell, what else do you expect?" Leon stood, shoving the chair out behind him, ignoring the pain that shot up his thigh. The two men had never been friends, tempers often rising to fisticuffs when they stood on opposite sides of an issue. "She asked about you."

"Yea, and what did you say?"

"Nothing. Would you have rather I told her that you're fine, but for some reason you sit around here on your ass all day feeling sorry for yourself?" Leon narrowed his eyes, he'd been looking for a fight since he woke up in a strange bed, his leg bandaged almost to the point of immobility, and his sorry excuse for a life totally out of his own control. "She asked me to pass along a message for her."

"And what's that?"

"That she'll miss you," Chris said earnestly, then chuckled, a low, hostile sound, "I don't know how you do it Kennedy, but you get 'em to fall for you every time."

"Jealous?"

"Hardly."

"Then what's your problem anyway?"

"I think you're just another asshole, parading around in a Boy Scout uniform."

"I'm an asshole? Well I guess you would know, right?" They were almost nose to nose now, muscles tensed, waiting for the brawl that had been building for the past week.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Claire stepped into the kitchen, placing a bag of groceries on the counter, "you're both assholes, and I should know." She gave them each a look, "you," she pointed at her brother, "out. And you," she pointed at Leon and then at the chair behind him, "sit. Now." Chris rolled his eyes, grabbed his water and left, slamming the door shut behind him. Claire poured herself a glass of juice and sat down at the table across from him. She looked flushed, her skin rosy from walking out in the afternoon sun, but otherwise she was the same old Claire, hair pulled up in a ponytail, all decked out in her finest t-shirt and jeans. "What's the matter with you two? You sprinkle too much testosterone on your corn flakes this morning?"

"Don't look at me, you know I only take sugar on mine," he smiled weakly, but it didn't even reach the heavy dark circles under his eyes. She glanced at the cell phone and the money on the table.

"So, you've got it pretty bad, huh?"

"Got what?"

"Come on Leon, you've been moping around here for days. It's not like you."

"What else am I supposed to do with a banged up leg?"

"It's not that, and you know it," her voice was soft and she took one of his hands. Somewhere along the line, while he'd been busy going bump in the night, Claire Redfield had matured into a strong, kind-hearted, caring woman; tough as nails and one hell of a friend.

"I just can't get her out of my head," he scrubbed his free hand over his face, as if he could rub the sight of her out of his eyes.

"She must have been something,"

"She was –is- everything good I'm not," he chuckled, "which is a lot."

"Leon…"

"I felt like a human being again, for the first time in a long time. I felt normal, and I liked it, too much."

"So if you want her, go get her," she patted his hand, "I'll even make it easy on you and give you the address."

"And what does a guy like me have to offer someone like that?" his face twisted involuntarily into a sneer, "a life of worry? Of never knowing if I'm coming home alive?"

"So you'll condemn her to a life of never knowing you at all? Haven't you suffered enough? Both of you?"

"I can't do it; I'm in too deep now. The Feds aren't just going to let me go."

"You survived the hungry undead of Raccoon City, single-handedly rescued the President's daughter from a colony of parasitic maniacs, and God only knows what else. I think you can handle a few paper pushers in DC. You've done your time Leon, let some of those friends of yours in high places help you out for a change."

"Would you do it? Give up all this to settle down somewhere?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, "maybe if I met the right person. Stranger things have happened. We never asked for this, we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I just can't," he shook his head. He had given up his shot at a normal life a long time ago.

"Just promise me you'll at least think about it," she stood and leaned over, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. "You deserve to be happy Leon," she said into his shoulder before straightening up again and stepping quietly from the room.

"Claire?" he stopped her as she reached the doorway, looking over his shoulder "you're still the best." It was a running line between them, left over from their brief but passionate time as a couple.

"I know," she answered brightly, ruffling his hair and then closing the door quietly behind her.

At least some things never change.