Claire wasn't particularly enamored with him or anything. Sure her 19-year-old self would disagree, but that was a long time ago – nine years to be exact. She was no longer the starry-eyed teen who couldn't take her eyes off him, grinning like an absolute idiot even though a hoard of flesh eating zombies were all but ready to tear her face of.
The silly school girl crush she developed when she first gazed into his baby blues had been long gone, and every single time she looked back on it, she felt stupid, really stupid. Feeling all giddy while she sat on the passenger seat of a stolen police car, trying not to seem too self-conscious because her savior happened to look like someone who just stepped out of a magazine cover. She shook her head.
That was then, and this was now. Whatever… inclination she might have had for him back then could be chalked up to the naivety of youth, the influx of teenage hormones, or the heightened awareness of everything around her due to the imminent threat of death at every corner.
It was the suspension bridge effect. She was sure of it. Her body just couldn't differentiate the cause of the sudden, never-ending rush of adrenaline. Was it survival, or was it… love? She shook her head again. It felt weird to call it that. Perhaps it would be more apt to label it as… an attachment. Yes. That word was a better fit.
Her drive, her motivation towards keeping herself alive, simply morphed into some sort of strange… affinity towards him. It was hard not to after all. He did save her back at that gas station, so seeing him always reminded her of security, of protection.
Seeing him, being with him, just made her feel… safe.
But again, that was nearly a decade ago, a lifetime ago, or so it seemed. Her fingers tightened over the glass of wine in her hand, frustrated at the spark of annoyance in her chest at the sight of him flirting with one woman after another as he moved through the room.
Leon Kennedy had always been a flirt–no, he was a shameless flirt. He wasn't particularly picky. Anyone with breasts and a pretty face was enough to get his attention, but he wasn't lecherous about it or anything, and he wasn't disgusting or disrespectful in any way. He was just… playful, witty, and so damn charming. And with a face like that? On a body like that? It was almost criminal. He was like a walking, talking lethal weapon tailored for the entire female population. She rolled her eyes.
But like she said, it wasn't like she was after him. Nine years was a long time. More than enough to get over her silly little crush on him.
Claire move her glass against her lips, just about to take another sip when the sight of him chatting Jill up made her hand pause.
Leon Kennedy obviously didn't care that her brother could literally crush his skull open with one fisted hand as long as he got a line in with someone as gorgeous as Jill.
The familiar flicker of irritation was back, not because she was feeling jealous or anything. No way. Those days were long over. But every single time she saw him flirting with a woman, which in his case basically meant sliding up to every attractive female within the vicinity, she couldn't help but feel… cross, put off, offended.
He never flirted with her. Ever.
He was polite, yes. He was an absolute gentleman, no doubt about that; but not once, in all the years they've known each other, had he so much as dropped a line, or a hint, or even a joke, that he saw her as a woman.
And it stung. Just a tad bit, of course.
She didn't need the approval of any man to feel validated, but some days, when she saw how he really was around women, she couldn't help but feel... spiteful.
Sure she wasn't as stunning as some of the women he went after, but she had her own charm. She'd had her share of men falling all over themselves just to get her attention. She may not be the type to turn heads, but she wasn't exactly easy to overlook either.
Claire narrowed her eyes when Leon clearly said something to make the women crowding around him laugh out loud. Having already moved away from Jill earlier, she could see the women in the room eyeballing him like lions stalking their prey, no doubt interested in one last hurrah with a handsome man before the year ended. The thought, the reminder of what tonight was, nearly made Claire choke on her wine.
It was New Year's Eve.
The year was ending in, she paused to glance at her wrist watch, less than 30 minutes, and here she was, standing in the corner of Chris' living room, watching Leon– watching people flirting with each other. She shook her head, chuckling to herself. What the hell was she doing?
"Not how I'm going to spend the last few minutes of 2007." She muttered to herself as she downed what was left of her drink. She pushed herself off the wall to head to the kitchen, grabbing an unopened bottle of vodka and a few snacks – a bag of potato chips and some chocolate bars – before heading out the window when no one was looking.
She balanced all the food in one hand, landing gracefully onto the ledge of the fire escape. She shivered a little at the chill of the winter air, having half a mind to head back for her coat, but decided otherwise. The strapless red dress she had on only ended up until the middle of her calf, but it would have to do for now. Just until midnight chimed in. The cold was a small price to pay for some bit of peace and quiet. She began making her way up the steel steps; the click of her black heels sounding like hammers banging against the metal.
There was a time she would have loved gatherings like these. Growing up, it had mostly been just her and Chris, so opportunities to meet other people never failed to excite her. But as she got older, large groups of people made her uncomfortable. She always felt the need to stand at a vantage point where she could see everyone, take note of everything, finding it hard to have anyone lurking behind her back – a price to pay after years of being chased by bioweapons.
She sighed in relief when she reached the top of the roof, the wide open space a breath of fresh air for her frazzled nerves. Traditionally, the roof was a terrible place to retreat to in the advent of an invasion, but since the apartment buildings in this area were stationed just a few meters away from each other, she was more than capable of jumping across, even in her highest heels.
She took a seat by the radiator at one corner of the roof, stealing some bit of its warmth as she settled on the floor, swinging her legs off the edge as she dropped the rest of the snacks next to her. She needed to turn her head to catch a sight of the fire escape, but the steel steps were more than enough warning to let her know of anyone's potential arrival.
She twisted the cap off the bottle of vodka, wincing a bit as she took a sip. She should have taken some orange juice to chase it down with. She shivered when a soft breeze blew past her, making her take out the pins in her hair, allowing her tresses to drape down her back for some added warmth. She rubbed her bare shoulders as she glanced up at the full moon, listening in on the festivities happening around her.
She couldn't remember the last time she felt excited for Christmas, or hopeful towards another year ahead. There was a time she would make insanely long lists full of New Year's resolutions, along with all her hopes and dreams for the future.
But now?
Now she was just… tired.
Tired of believing there could be a better tomorrow. Tired of doing work that never seemed to get anywhere. Tired of wishing one day, the world would be a better place – a safer place. She was just…
She was tired.
"So this is where you're hiding."
She nearly dropped the bottle of vodka in her hand, juggling it between her palms before hugging it against her chest. "Leon…" Came her breathless reply, torn between relief and annoyance as she pressed a hand against her thundering heart. Did he float all the way up to the roof? She didn't even hear him coming! "You scared the shit out of me!"
"Must be losing your touch, Claire." He smirked as he made his way towards her, pulling the black leather jacket he donned off his shoulders. "It's freezing out here. Are you trying to get a cold?" He rolled his eyes as he placed the heavy jacket on her back, waving a hand of dismissal at her protests. "You need it more than I do." He bent down to plant himself beside her on the edge of the roof, making her narrow her eyes at the distance he put between them – at least an arm's length away.
"I'm not infected, if that's what you're concerned about." She scoffed, depositing another mouthful of alcohol in her system. Her statement caught him by surprise. She could see him awkwardly rubbing a hand on the nape of his neck, glancing around the rooftop as if searching for something that could help his case.
She closed her eyes when she caught a wiff of his perfume, ignoring the stutter in her chest at the familiar scent of pine and cedar, alongside hints of bergamot and patchouli mixed in with the comforting aroma of aged leather. She shook her head. "If you're worried about someone seeing us together, you should just head back to the party."
She had every intention of handing him back his jacket, but another cold gust of wind had her threading her arms through it instead. She busied herself with a packet of chocolate, annoyed at sounding so… jealous? No. She wasn't jealous. Why would she be? She was no longer into him, and it's not like they were together. She bit a huge chunk off the bar in her hand, resolute on keeping her eyes on the night sky.
As far as she was concerned, they were never a thing. Not then, not now, and probably not ever.
"What is that supposed to mean?" His reply came quick and defensive.
"Exactly what it means." She answered back without missing a beat. She was sure he'd already set his eyes on a woman, or maybe even a number of them, to take back home to ring in the New Year. The last thing she wanted was to hear him explain to another one of his conquests, or to anyone else for that matter, that they weren't… anything. That she was nothing to him.
No, we're just, uh… Well, we actually just met… last night?
Ah, we're not together. We're just friends.
Oh no, she's not my girlfriend. This is Chris' younger sister, Claire.
Eventually, she made a game out of it – beat him in denial. Whenever someone would so much as insinuate that they looked like a couple, she would make sure she'd be the first to dismiss it. That way, she wouldn't have to see him act so awkward and uncomfortable.
As if being mistaken for her boyfriend was something to be embarrassed about! She rolled her eyes. Any man would be lucky to have her!
"Is everything alright, Claire?"
And there it was, his concern. Classic Leon. Always showing up when she least expected it, but when she always… always needed it. She grit her teeth.
No.
It meant nothing. It was just one friend caring for another – a gesture of kindness. Nothing more, nothing less.
"It's nothing." She shook her head, answering his question and reeling herself back in at the same time. She raised the bottle in her hand, just about to take another sip, but a hand landed over hers, stilling the movement.
"Doesn't seem like it's nothing."
She blinked at the blue eyes staring intently at her, hovering just a few inches away from where she sat.
When did he even move?
His fingers threaded through hers, pulling them away from the alcohol just as his free hand took possession of it, placing it well out of reach. "Talk to me." He continued to coax her, his hand still holding onto hers firmly, not showing any indication of leaving anytime soon.
She wanted to look away, to move away, but his eyes were… They just…
They were making it difficult to breathe.
"What's wrong?" He asked again, concern lining his features further as his thumb began running soothing circles over the back of her hand. She swallowed.
That was a good question. A very good question.
What was wrong with her?
What the hell was wrong with her?
All he was doing was holding her hand. He was just holding her damn hand, and yet she felt like she'd just ran a full marathon twice, complete with a platoon of zombies in tow.
The feel of his fingers slipping away from hers snapped her out of her thoughts, confused by the sight of him suddenly reaching for the bottle of vodka, chugging on it relentlessly. She pulled it out of his grasp when only a little over a quarter was left, not believing how much he just ingested.
"This was mine!" She continued to eye him in disbelief.
As if he hadn't heard her at all, he reached for the half-eaten bar of chocolate in her hand, gobbling it up without permission. "T-That's also mine…" All her protests died down as she watched him finish the rest of her snack.
They just shared an indirect kiss. She mentally slapped herself at the thought. What was she? Ten-years-old?
"Sharing is caring." He countered with a small smirk that didn't reach his eyes.
"What's gotten you so cranky all of a sudden?" She scanned him from head to toe before searching his eyes for a hint over his sudden change in disposition. She noticed him stiffen at the question, but only for a split second. It was barely noticeable, and would have been missed under an untrained eye, but years of interacting with him told Claire that the more he tried to hide his reactions, the more serious their underlying causes were.
"Nuh-uh." He crossed his arms on his chest as he shook his head. "We're talking about you, remember?"
And there it was, finally. Another classic Leon move – deflection. Most people in his field were usually quick to tell stories about their heroism, but he was never the type to talk about himself. He was always quick to dismiss people who would ask him for details about his work, or his life.
I got lucky, was all he would ever say.
There were a couple of ways Claire could go about dealing with his evasion. She was used to it after all. Most of the time, she wouldn't push, allowing him some privacy. Other times, she would try to change the subject to get him to relax. But now?
Now… She wanted to unbalance him a bit. Just like he always seemed to unbalance her whenever she ran into him at a place she least expected to see him.
Maybe it was the dark cover of the night, or perhaps it was the copious amounts of alcohol in her veins. It could be the fact that they were alone together without anyone within earshot. But right now, somehow, someway, she wanted to rattle him.
"You never flirt with me." The words were out of her mouth before she could rethink her decision. Mortification trickled down her spine the moment wide cerulean eyes locked onto hers. She couldn't take it back now. "Why don't you?" She added, strengthening her resolve.
She could see his mouth opening and closing, looking so much like a floundering fish out of water, clearly unsure of what to say.
"What– Why are you asking me this… all of a sudden?" His gaze broke away from hers.
Do you want me to?, is what she imagined he would have replied to any other woman he fancied. He would tilt his head to one side, looking up from under the fringe of his hair, low baritone voice drawling seductively.
But she was just Claire. Not the type he would bother to waste a line on.
"Just curious." She blurted out, shrugging exaggeratedly to make sure her nonchalance came across loud and clear. The last thing she wanted was for him to think that his lack of… proclivity towards her rattled her. Because it didn't.
It really didn't.
"I just noticed you're an incorrigible flirt." She snorted, sending him a playful look of reproach to lighten up the grave expression on his face, because really, what was he being so serious about all of a sudden? Had she known it would put him off this much, she never would have raised the issue in the first place.
"I guess, I just realized…" She threw him a tight smile, wishing he couldn't see through her façade. "Even though we've known each other all these years, I don't really know anything about you at all." She looked away from him, shrugging once again, hoping the flippant gesture would get him to ease up a bit. She glanced back up at the night sky, feeling a foreign weight on her chest as her words continued to hit her.
She didn't know him.
She really didn't know anything about him at all.
"Well… What would you like to know?"
Whatever it was she thought he would say, this definitely wasn't it. Leon never talked about his private life, never mentioning anything about his family, his childhood, nothing. All their exchanges always revolved around work. Getting personal was something he just didn't do – something they didn't do. Other than the fact that she was Chris Redfield's younger sister, there was nothing else he knew about her. Nothing that really mattered.
Claire turned to face him head on, scanning his eyes for a hint of a lie, but she saw nothing. The clear blue of his irises, unwavering and fixed solely on her, told her he was taking a chance. On what exactly, she had no clue.
Could she ask him… anything? Could she really do that? Would he answer her truthfully, regardless of whatever it was that she wanted to know?
Her heart began racing, pace picking up more and more the longer she gazed into his eyes. A soft breeze made the fringe of his ashen hair dance entrancingly across his forehead, before settling down over his right eye once again. She let out a breath at the image of him sitting right across from her, lit only by the light of the full moon.
He was a vision.
Like someone out of a painting. Or perhaps a statue that had come to life.
Here, just mere inches away from her, decked in pure black from head to toe with eyes that seemed to stare right into her soul… was an angel.
The Angel of Death.
Here to finally claim her life, not having been destined to survive Raccoon City in the first place.
He really had to be some form of harbinger of death, because she was sure every time she looked into his eyes, she died a little. Bit by excruciating bit.
"Why don't you flirt with me?" She ended up asking once again before her resolve could crumble away. She could have asked him anything else – his favorite food, his favorite city, his parents, his childhood – anything, really. But instead, she found herself asking him the question that's haunted her not just this evening, but for the better part of a decade.
He was back to sputtering, looking unlike his usual suave self. He let out a long, tired sigh, clearly exasperated with her persistence. "What's with the question?"
"Why won't you answer it?" She clapped back, no longer insecure. If being obstinate meant finally getting her answer, her closure, then so be it.
"What do you want me to say?"
She scoffed at this, confused by his words and the sudden quiet tone of his voice. "The truth." She insisted, done with his answering in circles.
"Why do you want to know?" His gaze locked onto her, body angling towards her fully. "Why is it so important to you?"
"Because I–" She cut herself off before any more words could fall out of her lips loosened by the mixture of wine and vodka in her blood.
What was she doing?
Where the hell was she going with this?
Had she forgotten who he was? Who she was? What they were?
He was a special agent sworn by oath to serve the government's top brass, and she was a member of an organization hell bent on exposing the very people he was ordered to protect.
Putting aside the fact that they would rarely even be in the same time zone a few instances a year, he was, he is, and he always had been an indirect obstacle that prevented TerraSave from bringing to light the government's corruption and inhumane experimentations.
A part of her wanted to believe it was his hero complex that made him choose the decisions he'd made, and the path he continued to tread, but a small part of her couldn't help but think that maybe…
Maybe he'd become one of them, too.
Maybe he, too, had been blinded by greed, by money, by power.
And maybe… Just maybe…
The rookie cop she fell for that fateful night at a gas station died a long time ago.
"Because?" His question dragged her back to reality.
"I'm just curious." She bit back curtly, unable to look at him.
"Why?"
"Why do you want to know?" She threw his words back at him, hoping it would get him to stop pushing. A long, deep sigh left his lips, fogging up the space between them.
"Well played."
She looked up at the sky, wondering exactly how, where, and when things started going wrong between them. She closed her eyes, sighing tiredly at the strange turn of events.
She wanted to leave.
She wanted to leave.
This wasn't how things were supposed to play out with him, with them. But this was the lot they've been given–No. This was the lot they've chosen. He picked his side, and she picked hers. And there was no going back.
Not anymore.
"Your brother would kill me."
She snorted at his sudden decision to answer her question. He'd been avoiding it all evening, so why give her a response now? If that was all there was to it, then why not just say so in the first place?
"Yet you shamelessly flirt with his girlfriend right in front of him."
He chuckled at this. "Hate to break it to you, Claire, but everyone knows Chris is a hundred times more protective towards you than Jill."
"Good to know my brother is still my biggest cock blocker."
His burst of laughter caught her off guard. It sounded so vibrant, so full of life, that it reminded her so much of the rookie cop she ran into all those years ago. Seeing him laugh like this, really laugh without a care in the world in complete and utter abandon, made her heartache.
When was the last time she'd seen him like this? So relaxed, so carefree, so… young.
And when was the last time she'd laughed like that? So loud, so infectious, so… real.
"I'm sure he means well." He shook his head as he swiped at the tears in his eyes, a content smile on his lips. Not a smirk, not forced – a genuine one.
The urge to reach out to him, to touch him, was strong, and she had just moved her hand off her lap when a burst of light made them both flinch.
"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
Cheers from all around could be heard as fireworks lit up the night sky. She felt him grab the bottle of vodka out of her grasp, raising it up towards the glittering sky.
"Happy New Year!" He yelled as he emptied the contents in a few swigs. She shook her head at the goofy look on his face, sighing at the wide smile on his lips.
Maybe it was the way the lights seemed to transform his eyes into endless galaxies, or perhaps it was the boyish grin he was sending her way. It could be the chill of the winter air, or the darkness of the night… It could have been anything, really…
But in that moment, she's never wanted to kiss someone so much in her entire life.
Her hands fisted against his shirt, pulling him down onto her, not allowing him a moment to react – an opportunity to refuse.
One touch of his lips against hers was all it took for her resolve to crack; bits and pieces of light penetrating through the high walls she painstakingly built around herself.
She wanted to stay with him, just like this, with his scent all over her, with his heat engulfing her, with his warm, soft lips pressing onto hers. She wanted him to be the last thing she saw before she went to bed, and the first thing her eyes landed on when she woke up in the mornings. She wanted to stay here, with him. She just…
She wanted him.
She wanted him so bad.
But she knew where she stood, she knew what they were, and she knew what this was.
A stolen kiss.
A stolen moment.
"Happy New Year…" She whispered against him as she broke the kiss, not having the courage to look him in the eye. She turned away from him before he could say another word, rushing towards the fire escape just as fireworks continued to rain down from the sky.
Now, without their wonderful sparkling colors distracting her, all she could hear… were the sound of gunshots.
Just like that, she was reminded once again of who she was, of who he was – of reality.
He would continue to follow orders handed out to him, and she would continue to fight against the people who game him those orders.
One day, maybe not today or anytime soon… but one day, she might find herself staring down the barrel of his gun. And if that day would come, when that day would come, she would have to decide once again what path she would have to take.
A/N: This two-part fic is my take on why Claire and Leon never seem to end up together in canon (because I needed to pacify myself over what Capcom has been doing to their story).
This is a self-indulgent fic I wrote mainly for myself (because I ship them so damn much), and to also contribute to this fandom which really doesn't have enough works.
The next part will be Leon's POV :) Thanks for dropping by! #nobetamymistakesaremyown
