Leon Kennedy dreamt of gnashing teeth.
He dreamt of the dingy motel room, of the darkness around the corners of the walls.
But something was off.
The door to the room was open. The cheap copper number 2 on the hook of it gleamed in the moonlight – which drifted in like a haze through the pulled curtains. He couldn't see behind the threshold of the door. A thin veil of darkness obscured the hallways beyond.
But Leon could smell something. Pungent and sharp, stinging his nostrils as he breathed in and out.
It smelled of earth and sickness.
It was the scent of Rot.
And that rotting stench floated through the door and into the room, as though carried by an unseen wind. Leon stared at the darkness beyond the door, hoping his eyes would eventually adjust and he would see that there was nothing there. That the feeling that something was watching him was all in his head.
But the feeling persisted and his eyes didn't adjust and only the darkness remained. Leon could feel his heart beginning to beat faster, slamming into the bones of his chest. Sweat slicked his limbs, making the scratchy bed sheets clean to him like a second skin.
There's nothing there. Nothing at all, you're dreaming.
But something was moving. Swaying back and forth in the liquid darkness beyond that simple wooden frame. Drifting through the inky mass of black that filled the hallway.
A shuffling sound filled his ears. Slow and erratic. Punctuated by a heavy thud. Over and over.
Shh…shh…THUD…
The noise was maddening.
Leon wanted to bolt from the bed, reach for his gun, wake Claire and Sherry, and tell them to run. He wanted to do something – anything. But he remained fixated on the inky mass as though his eyes were locked in their sockets.
He tried to call for Claire, but Leon's voice had died in his throat. All that seemed to come out was a hollow croak.
The scratching sound was getting louder. The thumping growing more pronounced. The shuffling footsteps quickening. Whatever it was that hid in the dark was approaching.
A scream pierced the stillness of the night. A shrill, shrieking wail that rose high into the air and sent Leon's skin alight with gooseflesh.
Leon's heart was hammering inside his chest now. Doing double-time, thudding so hard he could feel it hitting the bone. It was going to burst. Leon was sure of it. He would die in his sleep. After all, he had survived, Leon knew he was going to die in his sleep and Claire or Sherry would wake in the morning to find his body. Pale and lifeless. Stiff as aboard. Ready to join the ranks of the dead and lost Umbrella had claimed.
The shuffling sound stopped.
Leon felt like the whole world stopped with it. There was nothing but impossible stillness, so absolute and sudden, it felt like that he'd been trapped in amber.
A wheeze came from the other side of the black fog.
Something exploded outwards. Rushing at him on gangly limbs and stumbling footsteps.
All Leon saw was yellow teeth.
Hands closed around his limbs, scratching and clawing at any bit of him it could latch onto. Skin slid of hollow bones and blood splattered across his sheets.
Leon screamed as milky white eyes – unseeing and without understanding – filled his vision. The thing loomed over him and shrieked.
Then there were only teeth. Around his neck. Sinking into his skin. Tearing through his muscles like a knife through the soft flesh of ripened fruit.
And his heart hammered on and Leon screamed but there was only silence. He screamed until his throat was raw but the teeth still ground through his flesh and he felt the black plague of Umbrella surge through his veins as the dead thing bit into him – changing him. Corrupting him. Infecting and decaying as it spread through his veins like a sick venom-
Leon bolted upright. A scream was lodged in his throat like a stone. He gasped, feeling the sweat running down his forehead and stinging his eyes.
He grabbed at the spare sheet draped across him and threw it off. The itchy linen felt like it was suffocating him. His necked ached something fierce, and Leon knew that he'd be miserable in the morning, but the soreness was drowned out by overwhelming thudding in his ears.
Breathing deep, Leon tried to steady himself.
Only a dream. The city is far behind you. You're alive. Calm down.
Leon thought he might throw up for a moment. His body gave a terrible tremor, but Leon slid from the chair and placed his feet flat on the rough carpet.
The feel of the stiff fabric seemed to ground Leon, bringing him back to his senses quickly.
Leon tried to piece back together with the events that had led him to this less-than-stellar motel room.
He remembered Raccoon City.
Remembered Claire.
The vivid detail of their escape from that hellhole.
He recalled…commandeering…an abandoned vehicle near the outskirts of the city after they'd escaped. Claire had driven them to this motel some 75 miles in the opposite direction. They'd all needed sleep and food and (above all else) a goddamn shower. They'd paid in cash—somehow, in all the chaos Leon had managed to hold onto his wallet and credit cards. While his police ID and badge were pretty much useless now, his debit card certainly wasn't.
The store clerk had given him a strange look when he dropped a cart full of chips and soda onto the counter. Not to mention the shirts that read 'I Heart Raccoon'.
Claire had struggled to stifle a laugh when the man sniffed and made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Leon admitted, much later in the stolen car, between the irony of the t-shirts and watching the man's struggled attempts to breathe through only his mouth had indeed been kind of funny.
It had been motel hopping through the Midwest ever since.
He remembered arguing with Claire on dressing his wounds. She'd fussed like a mother hen over him still, but Leon was finally regaining most of his movement.
Okay, what next? Keep your mind busy.
He remembered each of them taking their turn to get showered and divvying up the beds.
Being the gentleman he was, Leon offered Claire and Sherry the beds and relegated himself to a stiff-looking armchair in the corner. He was beginning to regret that decision immensely now, and the dull ache in the crook of his neck was proof of that.
You really should have just taken Claire up on her offer to share the bed. You're both adults, why is it you're the only acting like a dopey teenager?
He scanned the motel room. It was dark, and the moon glowed through the thinly drawn curtains. Sherry quietly tucked away beneath her sheets. Her chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm. That was good. She deserved a good night's sleep.
Leon felt strange. Kids were something he'd never been too sure on, but he'd grown to respect and care for Sherry. Maybe one day, he wouldn't be opposed to having a child of his own. He hoped he could be a good enough father to raise them to be half as strong as Sherry was.
Still, something felt off.
Leon had discovered Claire had a penchant for light snoring. It was an oddly charming quality, one that made her more endearing to him than Leon was willing to admit. It had become something of a reassuring noise, one that lulled him to sleep most nights.
Yet, he heard only one set of breathing.
With a start, Leon realized Claire wasn't in her bed. She was gone.
Panic crept its way into the corners of Leon's mind. Leon leaped from the chair, and quietly checked the room over.
Claire wasn't in the bathroom. Her jacket was still on the back of Leon's makeshift chair-bed, and her switchblade was still on the nightstand, as was her watch and wallet.
Okay so, she's still here somewhere. Look, Kennedy. Find her.
Leon unlatched the door and peered outside. For a brief moment, he hesitated to open it all the way and step outside, fearful there was a shambling corpse outside waiting for him and his dream had been more of a premonition than a nightmare. Steeling himself, he pressed it to open fully and slipped outside. Pocketing the key, he let the door click shut softly and peered around.
The Motel was retro-inspired, with a long L shaped balcony that looked over the parking lot outside. Leon scanned the concrete lot and breathed a sigh of relief.
Sure enough, Claire was there, below him. Sitting on a bench near a few vending machines.
He watched her for a moment. She sat still, but Leon could tell by the sag of her shoulders that something weighed on her deeply.
Seeing her like that left a peculiar sinking feeling in his stomach.
She looked alone, a speck in an empty parking lot.
No cars.
No trees.
Just cracked concrete, weeds, and Claire Redfield alone on a bench in the dead of night.
All of it set a melancholy hue about his bones that surprised him.
He knew he probably should have left her be, maybe she needed time to herself after all, but Leon couldn't bring himself to turn around and head back inside. The overwhelming desire to be near her, and to shoulder whatever burden rested on her shoulders with her, was so sudden and acute that it had taken him aback.
Less than three weeks ago, Leon wasn't sure he'd ever had someone in his life he felt so protective of. Claire had changed that for him.
The strength of the bond he had forged with her frightened him.
Sometimes, when Leon looked at her, he could name the emotions he felt towards her.
Warmth, light, admiration, dependence, connection, familiarity, strength…
And then there were other, stronger ones Leon didn't have a name for.
Stronger emotions he could feel beneath everything else, and those were the ones that confused him.
Raw and almost ethereal.
And while Leon had no name for them, it was safe to assume they were in control at that moment, because the need to go to her then was almost overwhelming.
In the dark, Claire sipped on something quietly, and as he descended the cheap wrought iron stairs of the motel, Leon remembered Claire wasn't old enough to drink.
During one of their long, rambling conversations in a motel room, Leon had discovered Claire had just begun her Junior year of college when news of her brother's disappearance had made its way to her.
One more thing Umbrella took from her. She should be worrying about exams and papers, not hordes of corpses and death.
He stopped a few feet from her, realizing she hadn't noticed him yet.
Don't look so lost, Claire. It kills me.
"I hope that isn't a beer Miss Redfield." He called to her.
He thought it was funny, a joke to break the tension and maybe calm the tightness in her shoulder blades. What Leon hadn't expected was to find himself staring down the barrel of Claire's pistol.
Immediately he threw his hands up. "Easy, easy, it's okay if it is! It was only a joke."
Claire froze, and her grip on the trigger slackened. "Leon?" she asked, almost as though she were just finally seeing him.
"Evening, ma'am," Leon said with a weak smile.
Claire's eyes seemed to clear, and suddenly she was fumbling to put the gun away, "Oh god, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that—I just—you scared me and I reacted. Christ, I didn't mean to-"
"It's alright," Leon said. He understood better than he was willing to admit.
Claire looked at him, and he could feel her reading his eyes. Finally, she deflated. Her shoulders sagged and she let out a weary sigh. She flashed him a small, tired smile. "Guess I'm still a little on edge, huh?"
Leon put a hand on her shoulder, "We all are."
Claire nodded, still looking unconvinced, but beneath the pads of his fingertips, Leon could feel the tension in her shoulders ebbing ever so slightly.
Leon motioned to the bench, "Mind if I join you?"
She smiled, "I'd like that."
For the briefest of moments, Leon felt that familiar swell in his chest. He liked it when she smiled. It made things seem just a little less messed up. Made things feel just a little bit more whole.
Leon shared her smile and watched the sway of her slender legs as she sat back down on the bench. A brief flash of guilt slipped through his mind when he realized he might have just checked her out.
Class act, Kennedy, he thought, real appropriate timing.
Truth be told, he had found himself doing that more frequently than he was willing to admit. He had assumed it was probably just a proximity thing – after all, he spent nearly every waking minute with her – but more and more he was beginning to doubt that.
Shaking the thoughts away, Leon decided he'd think more on that later.
He slipped a few stray dollars from his jean pocket into the vending machine, picked a Sprite and a bag of popcorn labeled with some brand name he'd never heard of, and waited for the machine to finish whirring and clanking around as it dispensed the food.
In the stillness of the autumn air, Leon felt like the soft clicks and clanks were closer to a gong going off in a funeral parol.
The irony of that comparison was not lost on him.
The metal bench was cool to the touch, but Leon barely noticed.
Claire pointed her bottle at him, "It's, uh… it's Pepsi. Not beer."
Leon laughed instinctually. "Given what we've been through, I wouldn't have blamed you if you wanted a beer." Untwisting the cap from his bottle, he tapped the spout to hers, "Pepsi isn't a bad alternative, though."
"You are such a boy scout," Claire said, and her laugh sounded wonderful in the still of the cool night air.
He wanted to hear it again.
It was a sound Leon didn't think he'd tired of.
Bright and lilting.
A sound like light. Like normalcy and warmth.
"Would it surprise you to know you're not the first person to call me that?"
She leaned forward, watching him from the corner of her eye.
She said, "Why am I not surprised?"
"I think I might be insulted."
She sipped her soda with a sly smile; "You strike me as someone who got his knot-tying badge early."
"Actually I struggled with that one the most."
A bark of laughter slipped from his throat when Claire balked at him.
"You ever try tying a sailor's knot?" He grinned after regaining his composure, "There's like nine different steps to that one."
Claire threw her head back and laughed. A real laugh. Bright and unburdened. It was an honest sound and soon Leon was joining her too.
Silence settled in when their laughter died down. The stillness in the air returned, and the quiet hum of the night filled the space their mirth had left.
Yet, the air had changed. It wasn't lonely. Cold or lifeless. It was warm. Comfortable.
The same sensation slipped through him like a wisp of smoke. The nightmare he'd had not twenty minutes ago felt like a distant memory. A pleasant calm had come over him, and the ghost of Raccoon City that had clung to him like a second skin since their escape quickly began to feel like a far off dream.
From the corner of his eye, Leon could see Claire's soft features. She seemed more alive. Like the weight that had been on her shoulders was almost something he'd imagined. She was glowing again.
Leon felt content. Distantly, the realization that he always did when they were around one another settled into the back of his mind.
With sudden and brilliant clarity, Leon knew that come what may, they would handle it. As a team. Alone, they were hardened and competent, sure, but together? Together they were like iron.
An adage about a single twig and a bundle of twigs drifted through his thoughts but disappeared quickly when Claire tapped his opposite shoulder and slyly fished for a potato chip from his bag when he looked the other direction.
He smiled, held out the bag to her, and she laughed, trying to hide the crumbs around her mouth.
Twigs, zombies, evil corporations, whatever. It didn't matter. They'd figure it out as a team.
How could he worry about anything when he knew that?
Leon asked, "How come you're out here?"
"I couldn't sleep," she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, and Leon supposed it probably was, "You?"
"I've been having nightmares."
Claire turned to him, ponytail whipping across her face. "Nightmares?"
The way she said it made Leon realize she was having them too. That the reason she was out in the cold was because of a nightmare.
"I have them every night," Leon said, holding his eyes on the horizon line.
"You do?"
"Of course. I'm starting to count three hours as a solid amount of time for a good night's sleep."
A thin smile drifted across her features, but there was no mirth in it. "I wake up a lot during the night."
Leon asked, "It starts pretty slow right?"
Claire nodded, "Yeah, it's like I close my eyes, and then my brain just hits the panic mode button. If I can hold onto a dream for 45 minutes before it slips into a night terror, I count myself pretty lucky."
"And if you can't?" Leon asked, already knowing the answer. Still, he wanted to hear it. Needed to.
She held his gaze. Her eyes were soft. "Well… there are lots of little details you miss in the ceiling tiles until you stare at them for a while."
Leon tried to smile, but failed, only producing a twitch of his mouth that was hollow and sad, "I swear, every time it's like my poor heart is going to beat right out of my chest it's moving so fast."
Claire sighed, "I wonder if you can have a heart attack from a nightmare."
Leon said, offering her another chip, "Well that sounds like kind of a lame ending, considering what we've been through if you ask me."
"Yeah," she said, but she's giggling and it makes Leon feel a little less lost, "Think they'll ever stop?"
"I hope so."
She looked at him, her eyes suddenly sharp and alive, "And if they don't?"
"Then we've got a hell of a lot of therapy in our future."
Claire leaned back and took a long sip of her soda. She looked thinner beneath the sterile motel lights. The red and sickly white lights seemed to highlight the fact that neither of them had had a real, decent meal in almost two weeks.
Leon promised himself, first chance he got, he'd treat Claire to a real meal. Maybe burgers, or a nice pizza, or a juicy steak- whatever sounded nice to her.
"Hey, Claire?" Leon tried.
"Yeah?"
"If you ever wake up, and you – uhh – you feel lost or lonely or like you need someone to talk… you can wake me."
"Leon—"
Leon held up a hand, "Look I'm not saying you need it, or anything—just, yeah… wake me. If you ever can't sleep. I'll always understand. Wake me, and we can do this," he held up the bag of chips as if to illustrate his point, "To me, this is better than watching the clock tick down in dark."
Somewhere in the distance, an animal hooted into the night.
"Between you and me, I'd rather sit and talk with you than lie awake in the dark," Leon continued, nudging her with his soda bottle, "I'd say you've got a lot more personality than a ceiling tile. Much better conversationalist, too."
Claire watched him for a long while then. Her eyes were like grey-blue storm clouds before the rain broke and the sun returned.
Without saying anything, she reached over and placed a hand on his forearm. The touch surprised Leon but he tried not to show any indication of it.
Her fingertips were cool on his warm skin, but he could hardly feel it. All Leon could feel was pitching in his stomach.
In the few weeks, since they had fled the city, they had become closer. Leon knew that. He thought her willingness to be near him was probably a sign of it. And really, Leon was not one for touching, but he found that Claire seemed to be an exception to the rule.
"Leon, can I be honest with you for a second?"
"Always."
Claire shifted, staring at the bottle clasped in between her fingers. "It's going to sound kind of weird."
Leon smiled, and leaned in, his voice low and soothing, "I mean we're sitting outside in the cold because we've been dreaming about zombies. Really, what's one more weird thing for us?"
Fidgeting with the cap of her soda with her free hand, she said, "Up until a few days ago, my life was pretty much just me and my brother. And that was all I needed. I didn't really have anyone else in my life. People could come and go and I would understand if they did. Life is full of that. It's normal."
Leon watched her, thinking that – for the first time – he might be seeing Claire Redfield nervous. He'd certainly never seen her at a loss for words. Her ability to always have a biting retort was something he found humorous most often.
"But then you and Sherry came along. And suddenly, despite the circumstances that brought us together, something about it feels…right." She said, with such conviction it made something in Leon's chest tighten, "When I look at Sherry, I see the little sister I always wanted. The one I might have had if my parents were still around." She looked up at the window looming over them with a wistful expression, "My heart feels full for the first time in a long time. I look at her and I feel like I see part of a family Chris and I never got to have."
She spoke with such surety, but the look on her face was unmoored. As though she might up and drift away into the inky black sky, to settle amongst the stars.
Leon reached out and took her hand. If for no other reason than instinct. To tether her there. Or maybe, to tether himself to her.
It was a bold move, and really, Leon was not entirely sure he should have done it, but he did anyway. In his gut, it felt like the right thing to do. And Leon was learning that trusting his gut always seemed to pay off.
To his surprise, she didn't pull away, and when she wrapped her fingers back around his, Leon released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"It kind of frightens me. How protective of her I feel sometimes, I mean," Claire said.
Leon couldn't help but agree. And while he didn't want to vocalize that Sherry might have changed his opinions on fatherhood, he couldn't help but sympathize with Claire.
After all, he'd been an only child too.
"And then there's you," she said, quietly. So quiet, Leon wasn't sure she had said anything at all.
"Me?" Leon asked, baffled, "What about me?"
"It's weird. I mean, we've only known each other a short while, but it feels like you've belonged here the entire time."
She seemed to take a sudden interest in their intertwined fingers, then. Watching them intently. She moved her forefinger, sliding it over his knuckle, gliding it along to the inside of his palm. Absentmindedly tracing patterns there.
"When I think about what's next, you're there. When I think about if we're going to make it through all of this…I don't get worried. In my mind, if you're there - if you and I are together – if it's you who has my back – I'm not scared. I mean—I should be, right? We just escaped, like, the literal city of the dead, right? I should be fucking terrified but I'm not." Her words were picking up steam, and she'd begun to talk faster, and Leon couldn't help but wonder if this had been building up inside her for some time. "And I've known you for…what? Maybe a collective twenty some odd days?"
"Twenty-three, but who's counting?" Leon said.
She smiled, "Twenty-three days! Now I can't picture going forward without you being somewhere in my life. The thought of losing you, or of you not being there, pushing forward with me, surviving with me… god, it makes me nauseous. It's insane and confusing and I don't know how much of it is a post-traumatic stress thing and how much of it is because you've suddenly become one of the few people that mean the world to me… And now the idea of going back to not having you around really freaks me out, but hell here I am and-"
Leon cut her off by leaning in and saying softly, "Hey Claire?"
"Yeah?"
"You're rambling."
She laughed, and there was no hint of bashfulness in it. Instead, she caught his smile and a faint flush of red crept across her cheeks. "You're right. Sorry, I'm a little out of my depth here."
"It's okay," Leon said, quietly, "I am too."
"You get what I'm trying to say though, right?"
"I do."
"You do?" and the surprise in her voice was plain.
"Yeah. And for what it's worth, it is fucking freaky."
"Well, I'm glad. I hate how needy and just…not independent all…that… sounded." and she waved her free hand about as if to illustrate her point.
"You mean codependent?"
"Alright, don't be a smartass," she said, but she squeezed his hand appreciatively.
"So then, together?"
"Together?" She asked, curiously.
"Yeah," Leon said, surprised by the determination in his voice, "Cuz' I don't plan on leaving you any time soon."
"Oh?" she said, trying to sound nonchalant, but the blush across her cheeks and the content smile told him otherwise.
"Hate to say it, Claire. You're stuck with me. Hope you don't mind."
"I don't think that's the worst thing in the world right now," she said, moving a little closer to him.
"But, ahh… on a serious note… you and I will sort this all out together. Like you said, you have my back, and I'll have yours. Always. No matter what."
"I think I'd like that."
"Good, but on one condition," Leon said, and relished in the way Claire's eyebrow shot up, "You give some thought to that offer I made."
"About staring at the ceiling?"
Leon snorted, "No, jerk, about waking me. You can't sleep? You wake me. Deal?"
She nudged him and stuck out her tongue, "Well, if you're okay with your sleep schedule getting even smaller, then deal."
Leon smiled and nodded, and Claire seemed content with that.
They settled in, peaceful and quiet in the night. Leon felt that familiar serenity settled over him once again.
It was nice. There was no other word for it.
It was calm. Quiet. And Leon could feel the tension in his muscles slip away.
Claire was the first to break the peaceful air between them.
She didn't say anything. Just moved. Suddenly she was a few inches away from Leon and then, Leon could feel her fingertips ghosting along his. Looking for permission. Testing to see if she was crossing a boundary line.
Leon responded, letting his digits thread together with hers.
When she slid in closer, tipping her head underneath beneath his chin, resting along the inside of his shoulder, Leon felt a jolt of electricity race through him. Suddenly the world came into sharp focus, and the tired ache around his bones was gone.
His senses came alive with her this close.
He could smell the scent of her shampoo, something citrus-tinged she'd picked up at a gas station along the way. It should have smelled cheap and synthetic, but Leon felt his brain buzzing with the scent. Of course, leave it to Claire Redfield to make something so innocuous and plain feel so alive and pleasant.
He could feel the softness of her hair, ghosting along the sides of his jaw. A flash of an image flitted through his mind – half of a coherent thought really – a murky image of her hair splayed out like an auburn halo across plain white sheets.
Could hear the soft inhales and exhales she made as she leaned against him. His mind was running rampant. Going in directions he felt guilty for letting it go. She was his friend. Yet, he found himself wondering what it would be like to hear that soft breathing beneath him. Shallow and warm and with his name trailing each one as they moved-
"Claire?" he asked, unsure what to do or say. Only sure he needed to distract himself.
"Shh," was all she said and settled closer into his shoulder.
"Clai—"
But she squeezed his hand tightly and cut him off. "This is nice."
And it was nice.
Leon had begun to wonder what it felt like to find Claire inside his personal space. Or to find himself inside hers. To see what it felt to be close to her. Now, he realized as he settled into her, letting his shoulders relax and loosen around her, it was exactly how he imagined it.
She was warm. A small furnace packed inside the body of a pretty girl.
He lowered his head, letting his temple rest along the crown of her hair.
He could feel her smiling.
How? He didn't know.
He couldn't see her, but he could tell.
Her fingers responded with a light squeeze.
The sound of the crickets and night critters filled the empty pocket their conversation had left.
For the first time in weeks, Leon thought he might have felt his eyelids growing heavy. Claire was warm and notched into his shoulder the way she was, Leon felt strangely safe.
"Leon…"
The way she said his name, soft and hesitant, made Leon's chest tighten. It made his head swim with heated, half-formed thoughts.
It'd been three weeks traveling together, on the run, and Leon felt like he was falling further down a blue abyss every time she called his name.
Stop letting Claire Redfield do funny things to your head.
But he cleared his throat anyway and replied, "Yeah?" because it was all Leon thought he could manage when he saw the way her head was tilting up at him.
"I think I'm ready to try and get some sleep again."
"Oh, okay," he said, trying to hide the mild disappointment he felt.
She untangled herself from him, leaving a warm impression along his skin where she had once been.
Standing, she turned to him, offering him her hand.
Leon took it, and with a grunt, she hauled him to his feet.
They dumped their trash in a bin along the stairs, and quietly they climbed metal rungs. Claire leading, Leon trailing behind ever so slightly.
The inside of the motel room was exactly how they had left it.
Dark, still, and silent. Only the sound of a rattling old fan on the TV stand cut through the stillness.
Sherry was still curled into the edge of her bed, hand tucked beneath her chin. Squeezing a pillow like a feather-stuffed lifeline.
Claire looked at Leon and tilted her head towards Sherry. Leon understood the message.
Careful. Don't wake her.
She tiptoed to the edge of Sherry's bed and knelt beside her. A soft, serene expression passed over her features. She reached out slowly and brushed the hair from Sherry's forehead. She leaned in and pressed a slow languid kiss to her forehead.
Standing, Claire silently maneuvered around to the bed and sat. She slid her pistol from beneath the waistband of her jeans and placed it quietly on the nightstand.
She gave Leon an embarrassed look, and Leon smiled in return as if to say 'thanks for not shooting me early.'
Leon felt around the floor for his blanket. Reluctantly, he bundled the itchy fabric up and quietly slipped over to his chair.
He looked at the thing with disdain. He was beginning to think he'd rather spend another night fighting zombies than sleep in this thing again.
Sort it out in the morning. Just try and get some rest, Kennedy.
He slid into the chair and closed his eyes.
The tap on his hand surprised him.
Claire was standing above him. Moonlight bounced off her eyes like a still lake in the summer.
Leon cocked his head.
Clair pulled him to his feet.
Leon mouthed, Everything okay?
Claire huffed. She pointed a slender finger at the chair and shook her head.
Leon shrugged.
With an exhausted shake of her head, she mouthed No, with me.
It took a moment for his brain to register what she had said, but when the fog cleared and Leon was able to swallow past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, he craned his neck, trying to silently ask if she was sure.
She took his hand and pulled him towards the bed. Backing up until her knees hit the edge of the mattress and pulled Leon down with her.
Only by some miracle or wondrous stroke of luck, Leon managed to not land on top of her in the dark.
The mattress was just as itchy as the blankets were, but Leon hardly noticed.
His mind seemed to have gone blank momentarily.
Claire was inches from him. Leon thought he caught a scarlet hue begin to blossom across her pale complexion, but before he could be sure, she smiled softly and rolled onto her side, facing away from him.
Instinctually, Leon did the same. Lying back to back with her. He wondered if she was regretting the decision.
He wondered if he should just get up and go back to the chair. Save her the embarrassment if possible.
Leon watched clock click down. The crimson digits burned against his eyes in the dark. Two minutes passed.
Sleep suddenly seemed too far away. After all, here he was lying in a bed with a girl who was beginning to carve out a heavy place in a heart. A girl who seemed to be able to rip the words from him with just a smile and a laugh. A girl who was able to make him forget what day it was if the hem of her shirt rode up to far. Who could make the entire room feel ten degrees warmer when she winked at him. Hell, all it took was one bright laugh from Claire Redfield and Leon would forget what his name was. And here he was, lying centimeters from her, in a small motel bed, feeling the warmth of her body heat against his lower back.
Christ, I should just go. Wait for her to fall asleep and slip onto the floor or something—
A subtle shift behind him. The quiet rustling of fabric. Then her fingertips touched his. Hooking her forefinger around his.
"Leon?"
He rolled over, sitting up. "Claire?" he whispered.
Without a word, she rolled over too, pressing closer to him, curling into the side of his chest.
"You're warm," she said, barely above a whisper.
Her hand came up and splayed across his arm. It felt like fire along his skin.
"You're not exactly an ice cube either."
Leon felt her laughter rather than saw it. Just faint vibrations along with the linen blanket.
"Lay down," she said.
So Leon did, letting his body melt into the sheets. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling Claire's fingertips along the inside of his bicep.
"Claire?"
"Uh-huh?"
"This is nice," he said because it was the only thing that felt right to say.
"It is. Better than the chair, right?"
"Definitely."
Claire smiled. Leon could feel it against his arm. When had she gotten so close?
It didn't matter. Leon found he liked it. He liked having this close to him. It was…nice.
Yeah. Nice. That was the perfect word.
Slowly, he slid down in the sheets, turning on his side. He pressed closer to her, and she curled further into his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin.
"Claire?"
She made a little humming noise. A noise somewhere between waking and sleep, letting him know she'd heard him. A simple sound, but it set Leon's mind ablaze.
Against the crown of her head, he whispered, "Remember to wake me, if you need it."
"I will."
"Good."
"Leon?"
"Yeah?"
"Let's do this from now on."
"Do you want to?"
She nodded, almost imperceptibly.
"When you're this close, all the dark feels so far away."
"I feel the same way."
Claire shuffled closer to him and untangled her hand from his bicep. She reached up and splayed her palm across his chest. Right over his heart. Tapping her finger along to the beat of his heart.
"Good," she said in a voice thick with sleep, "Now shut up. Let's get some sleep."
And sleep they did. For the first time in weeks, Leon slept.
His dreams were simple and unobtrusive. He dreamed of a fingertip, taping along to his heartbeat. And a crown of auburn hair.
When he woke to the first slivers of sunlight slipping through the shades to find Claire still tucked away at his side, something struck Leon. Like a veil being lifted.
There was an emotion there. One that eluded him for a long time. One he thought he had no name for.
But with her there, pressed against his side, breathing slow and steady, Leon realized he knew exactly what the name for it was.
Been a while! And much like a zombie, I'm back from the proverbial dead.
I had some free time, and between work and my own personal writing, life has kept me pretty busy. Still, with RE3 around the corner, I've been replaying RE2. After completing it for, like, a fifth(?) time, I figured I'd dip into the well and tinker around with one of my favorite pairings from when I was younger. With some spare time and a little elbow grease, I was able to put this idea to paper over two days. A little rougher than I would have liked, but I had some unfortunate time constraints. But if it suits your fancy, then you're in luck, because I have got one or two more coming along. Hopefully, it's worth your time!
As always, thanks for reading.
-Poet