RE: Inclination

A/N: On to a schedule for the other stuff, hoping to make it out of this alive by mid-October. Thanks to everyone for reading.

::EDIT:: Many apologies for uploading the wrong chapter. Let there be a FIX.


May 2006

After he'd retrieved the log, and they retreated to the cabin to inspect it and formulate some sort of a plan. The log had shown frequent, short trips made by the vessel. While Leon was considering what location the distance would imply, Claire mulled over the other contents of it – passenger lists, times traveled, some vague notations by the captain written in neat script in the margin. Leon was more worried about where it was going than what the captain had to say.

"This is a pretty classy boat to move BOWs in," she said.

"TriCell, while a large pharmaceutical company, hasn't seemed to be fruit from the same branch of the tree as Umbrella."

"Weren't they the ones involved in the cleanup of the G-virus WilPharma had in Harvardville?" Claire asked, glancing at Leon from where she was checking over the magazine from the Glock. Leon shrugged. "That I just don't buy, not all the way. From what I've seen about TriCell at TerraSave… I can't believe it, Leon. No. At least I can't put it past them. Not after… not after Umbrella."

Leon nodded. He had to give her that, at least. They were both quiet for a moment. Leon was pleased that hearing the name Umbrella no longer had quite the same potency it did years back. He'd been through too much since then. The same old tingle was still there. The flutter of his stomach when he thought about it, the pricking of the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, but it was short of what it had been years ago.

He couldn't be sure whether it was time or whether it was the other things he'd faced since then. He knew that, in essence, there would always be a strong reaction. Like the recollection of a first hangover, or… the first horror movie that really got to someone… Leon had already accepted the fact that Umbrella and it's actions were a part of his life that would never go away.

Umbrella had set him on this path, after all.

Claire made a noise in her throat, contemplating something. "I bet this boat was used for high profile passengers. Money people being ferried in to see a status update or…"

Leon didn't mention that there were things that TerraSave couldn't know about. He didn't say that to her, just like he never told her all the details of any particular mission. He didn't feel the need to. It wasn't like they had serious ideological differences to surmount…

No, they weren't so different. He and Claire had talked about her job at TerraSave before she'd officially taken it.


March 2003

It was late, and because it was late, it was cold.

The other partiers from the graduation had all gone home or into a bar, but Claire had ripped Leon away from them.

It wasn't cold just because it was late, Montana was always cold. Bozeman didn't boast warm temperatures in the spring most of the time. Leon knew because he'd done a few of his final credits at MSU while finishing up at the Academy. Being from Washington state didn't make the cold any more bearable.

But of course, it was Claire's graduation. So that meant it was Claire's evening, and if she wanted them to freeze while swigging from a bottle of vodka in a playground that had frost on the benches, that was her choice.

It didn't mean that the first sign of frostbite he wasn't marching them both inside somewhere warm.

Claire lifted the vodka bottle, wrapped in the clichéd brown bag, in front of him, and giggled a little. That was still taking some getting used to. Apparently, Claire giggled when drinking too much vodka. He'd have to remember that for future reference. "Come on, old man," she said, shaking the bottle. "Drink up."

Leon didn't comment, but he did take the bottle from her, both to keep the clear liquid from spilling on him and making him colder, and to take a drink. It was cheap, and it burned. But it burned good.

"Remind me, again, why we're out here and not in a bar with the rest of… oh, everyone?"

She made an annoyed face and snatched the bottle back, turning from him on the bench and crossing her legs. After the graduation ceremony she had required a change of clothes before they went out. Leon spent half an hour waiting outside her shoebox apartment while she 'geared up' for the evening out.

At least she wasn't wearing the dress she'd had on under her cap and gown. Leon doubted Chris would approve of the drooling man actions that might induce in either Leon or any of the other men in the vicinity. Leon didn't particularly want to get into a fight about it, either. The thing with whatshisname… Wick? … had been more than enough for him in that regard.

Claire wasn't his girlfriend, and she wasn't his sister. Leon didn't quite know if it was his place to pound someone's face in for making a lewd remark about her.

"Because, oh genius secret agent, he is in there."

"There's more than one bar in Bozeman, Claire, I'm sure of it. You and I have been to them. We walked past three. And one person can't be in all of them. Unless, of course, he's in pieces."

That brought another refreshing giggle from her. A burst of her breath turned the night air whiter around her, and her cheeks looked flushed.

"And who is he?"

"I don't know Leon, take your pick." She leaned back on the bench, slinging an arm around his shoulders, and pointed as she spoke. "Wick, Mauro, Jonathan."

"Are you telling me we're sitting in the cold because of three losers?" Leon shook his head, taking the bottle from her and taking a long sip.

"We're sitting in the cold," Claire said, turning to him, "because I can't talk in crowds like that."

Glancing at her with the bottle still at his lips, Leon lifted his brow. He finished his swig, wiped his mouth, and swallowed quickly. "So… talk. Otherwise we're going somewhere dull and warm. We can fake being drunker than we are and blend in."

Claire didn't seem to like the end of his suggestion, rather than giggling, she made an annoyed face. "So I've been scouted."

His heart skipped a beat. "For… what?"

"Oh, you know… this and that."

"No, actually, I don't."

Giggles broke her even breathing, and Claire tipped her head on his shoulder. The good mood was back, and he didn't get it. "The secret agent doesn't know?"

"I prefer asking you things rather than stalking you, Claire."

"Good answer!" Claire squeezed the arm around him. "Work, of course. Various organizations. A lot of activist ones… some of which are stupid. I can't quite bring myself to be the bleeding heart required to campaign for vegetarian lunches in the public school systems."

The thought of it made Leon chuckle. Claire took the bottle back, taking a swig from it. "But I am thinking about TerraSave."

"Does that involve you breaking up our friendship?" Leon asked, shifting to put his arm around her shoulders the way hers was around him. If she was this spunky, she just might be warm enough to share.

They'd done it before.

Granted the hotel was a little more desperate a situation than this bench with this alcohol and this college party going on.

"… I know it's an NGO," Claire said, turning her head. Either she was just looking away or she was looking at his hand. "But it's not just that."

"Hey," Leon said, shaking her by the shoulder a little. He took the bottle from her hand and set it down, reaching up to turn her head towards him when she didn't turn on her own. "Listen to me for a minute."

There was worry in her blue eyes. Big, quiet worry that was stronger than the giggles from the vodka, or the angry swearing she'd made about the stupid heels that had almost made her lose it on the walkway to her apartment building. She didn't try to hide it from him, when she looked up at him. They were past that sort of thing.

"Hey," Leon said. It came out differently, this time. This time it sounded soft, comforting. It was an endearment, a soothing syllable rather than a word. "You and me were here before either of us had jobs. And-"

"I still don't have a job, I'm just-"

"-you and me will still be you and me no matter what else happens."

"-thinking," Claire finished.

She stared at him after that for a long time, silently. Leon didn't feel awkward, but he couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or if he was just that comfortable with Claire and what he was saying to her.

He leaned down for the liquor where he'd set it on the ground, just in time for Claire to lunge forward, her other arm wrapping around him tightly.

Doing that while they were both slightly drunk and Leon was shivering on the park bench was a terrible idea. He couldn't regain balance fast enough, and her lunge turned into a tackle. Leon's back hit the permafrost-hard mulch at the foot of the bench, managing just barely to keep from cracking his head on the shit. Claire's arms were deceptively slender for how strong she gripped him. The hold she had around his middle was tight, and she was warm against him, warm enough to make him shiver a little worse in the chill of the March night air.

Rather than struggle, Leon shook his head, leaning it back on the ground. He gave in to the freezing he was going to feel at doing it, and wrapped his arms around her. It was preferable to think about something good rather than the pain involved. An old lesson, that. "Do I really have to remind you something like that?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Sometimes you do."

They were quiet a long minute. Claire leaned back a little, grinning at him, and reached over for the vodka. She took a long pull from the bottle, longer than any that either of them had taken yet that evening, one arm still tight around his ribs. When she was finished, the bottle was upright, and she licked her lips as she set the bottle down on the ground.

"You just finished that, didn't you?"

"Yup."

Leon groaned. He was counting on that to warm him back up. "Well then you're going to come back to a bar with me. I can't feel my ass."

Claire pouted at that, grumbling. She sat back on her shins, off of him but still between his sprawled legs. A less drunk Leon, the drunk Leon knew, would have a harder time ignoring the fact that not only had Claire just tackled him, but she was also still crouching over him. Thankfully for Leon, and the chewing out Chris would do to him later if he weren't, he was drunk. Drunk Leon just wanted to get off the cold hard thing formerly called the ground.

"It can't be so bad," he said, shifting to sit up fully, dragging himself away from her. The leather jacket felt like it was made out of glacier. He should've worn a parka for this particular drinking excursion. "I'll still talk to you inside."

Claire's eyes narrowed at that, but not at him.

"Or… I could… not."

"It's not you, Leon," she said, voice lower than her happy giggles from before. "It's them. They all think we're dating."

"Oh."

Drunk Leon and the sober Leon that drunk Leon was imagining both had the same reaction to that one. Intrigue. Confusion as well, but definitely intrigue. People thought he was dating Claire? Probably after that evening of throwing whatshisname into the dumpster… it was normal…

But… dating?

That was… it was…

Drunk Leon knew what he was liable to do with thoughts like that in his head, and shifted back, moving away so that she wasn't between his legs like that. "It's… still cold," Leon said, getting to his feet. He deposited the brown-bagged bottle into a waste bin to give himself time to regain composure before turning to help her up. "And we're still going inside. You finished the vodka."


May 2006

Even if they were different, it didn't matter so much.

She might not even remember the evening, but she'd taken what he'd said to heart. No matter what, they were still him and her. They were still them, and they were still there.

Even though both of them had gone home with other people after their chat. In the long run it didn't matter, and, as time had shown, they were still there afterwards.

The cockpit had also relinquished a map of the island. Unfortunately there wasn't anything written on the laminated surface. Leon spread it out on leather cushion of the couch and inspected it closer. No writing… that would be too obvious, but sometimes…

"Notwithstanding what went were TriCell was taking it in this boat, we still need to find where it was going to…" Claire said. She was leaning back against the couch, rubbing her eyes.

And then he found it. A hole. Small, about the size of a pin head, likely made by a pushpin. Leon angled the map and found a slight indent in the lamination detailing a route around the island towards the pinhole destination. "Going here," he said, putting the map on the couch between them again, pointing to the pinhole on the map.

Claire glanced down at it. "That's not very… secluded…"

"The entrances to underground facilities aren't always secluded," Leon said, "sometimes they're almost painfully obvious."

She shrugged, conceding the point. "Alright, so we have a destination. The TriCell facility must be located somewhere on that side of the island… but Leon… what good does it do TriCell to unleash the T-virus here?"

He'd been pondering that himself.

"If it was TriCell that did it," he reminded her. The coincidence was too great… Townland in the area, finding they keychain with the TriCell logo on it, especially on an otherwise unmarked craft. So far most of the outbreaks that had been littering the planet and decreasing the human population had been bio-terrorism or accident. "Maybe it was an accident… or maybe it was so they could test something."

"I didn't notice anything unusual, did you?" Claire asked. She snorted. "Usual. Unusual. Am I really using that to describe this sort of thing?"

"Just means you're stepping up from hobbyist to professional," Leon said, offering a smile to lighten the mood. "But no, I didn't notice anything unusual either… not after having talked to Chris about what he ran into in Arklay… even the thing in the station was within bounds for a normal outbreak."

"You know, in August it was a plant… Downing needed data…"

"Anyone trying to sell bio-weapons needs data. That doesn't change," Leon said, feeling his face set into a scowl.

"Yeah, but…" Claire trailed off, shaking her head. "There's no point speculating, we won't get anywhere. The only place we're going to find answers is in that facility."

Leon nodded.

They folded the map, checked the boat's interior again for anything strange… pulsing, rotting… moving… there was nothing. They did find a weapon's locker that was easily opened by the butt of Claire's shotgun, but the contents were normal for a sea craft that might be run by a company with a security division.

The interior of the boat was really without any trace that it belonged to TriCell. If he were in any other situation, Leon might write off the keychain to some corporate executive on vacation, but not just now.

"I still think we should stock up on water," Leon said, remembering the dry feeling in his throat from the storage hangar.

"That's fine," Claire agreed, "hell, I'll even steal you some Gatorade."

He chuckled at that, checking the magazine of his weapon. Claire was grinning as she checked the shotgun, and despite the dismal situation, it was ok. After a moment, Leon sobered.

"Claire… I'm sorry that our vacation ended up so… strange. I really was trying for normal, I promise."

Claire's blue eyes regarded him for a moment as she thought about that quietly. When she thought, she shifted her grip on the shotgun to a more defensive one… as though she didn't want to be caught unawares, despite needing a minute to think.

The minute passed, and finally she shook her head. "No one plans these things, Leon. Besides, it's your job." She chuckled, but there was little humor in it. "And if I'm going to be stuck with them anyway, I'd rather have you along."