Saoirse :

The Drive Within

Chapter Two:

Teaghlach(*1)

Bless you and yours
As well as the cottage you live in.
May the roof overhead be well thatched
And those inside be well matched.

Irish Blessing

On the top of the hill, the little house that held Molly O'Shea was adorable. It sent plumes of smoke into the sky in happy curls. It offered a clothesline stretched thin and pretty over the jewel green grass as you walked.

There was a smoke gray cat lying on the little porch watching Claire as she crossed the yard to knock, but she really needn't have bothered. The door opened to show a beautiful woman with flour on her nose in a pretty apron dotted with tiny roosters. She laughed, delighted, and Claire put a hand to her chest as it struck, like an arrow, and hummed in her chest. This woman was her mother.

But she wasn't. She was her aunt.

But she was her mother. The red hair in the lazy bun, more Titian than the mermaid red of Claires, curled over her swanlike neck and wisped around her gorgeous face. She had eyes the color of the grass where they stood, gazing at each other, and skin as pale as the petal of a white rose. Claire couldn't do anything but stare at her, seeing her mother the morning she'd left and never came back.

Molly finally spoke, delighting Claire with her accent, "Oh, Claire Redfield, it's half me life I've been waitin to meet yeh. I'm so happy you've come."

Claire couldn't find the words she wanted. She shook her head and Molly filled the silence, "Your mother was me twin, darlin, that's why you look like you've seen a ghost."

Claire felt her face crack on the smile lodged there. Her eyes filled with tears and Molly added, in her mother's voice, "There's a lass. Let it out now. I'm right here."

Claire whispered, "...I want my Mama."

She was thirty-four, and looking for someone to hold her, hum to her, and take away her pain.

Molly cooed, "Aye, ya do, my sweet girl. She's here with yeh. Yeh just need to let her in."

And so a stranger with her mother's face held her close while she finally let go, and wept until she was empty for the first time since her world had fallen apart.

Molly O'Shea liked to talk. She did so without pausing. She talked about Siobhan and the yank that married her and took her away. She talked about seeing them as "babes" when she came to visit. Claire was their surprise baby. Having thought they were barren after Chris was born, her parents had given up on having another baby.

It's why he was so much older than her. They hadn't expected her arrival at all. In fact, Molly told her, Siobhan had often called Claire her "rainbow" baby, as she came after three miscarriages. Molly smiled and patted her hand while she plied Claire with tea and biscuits and delicious hearth-baked soda bread. She mused, "You were her gift, you were, Claire. It's best you remember that when you're feeling lost in the world."

Claire felt better post weeping. She'd purged the pain for the moment, letting loose the storm she'd kept in since she'd buried her husband. Although there'd been nothing to bury. Whatever was left of him remained in that oil tanker beneath the sea. They'd gone back, according to Chris, to try to find anything - but the explosion of the B.O.W. had taken what was left of the burning mess and left it in pieces. If there was anything left of her husband, he'd floated away into the ocean somewhere to hopefully find peace.

So she'd buried nothing in the grave the B.S.A.A. had set up for him. She'd buried the memory of him and had nothing to mourn. She'd stood in the warm humidity and said goodbye to empty space. There was nothing cathartic there.

There was nothing to take away from it.

Chris was a wreck. He was nearly killed himself. They'd pulled him from wreckage riddled in bullets, slashed to ribbons, bleeding and dying. She'd spent the first weeks after it all, thinking she might lose her brother too.

But he'd pulled through. When she'd left to go to Ireland, he was still without the use of his left arm. It was a long road for him. He'd thrown it in front of the thing that had killed Piers. His report said Piers had lost his arm, and Chris had nearly done the same. She knew he'd show up eventually. When he was ready.

She never would have left him, but he'd pushed her to go. He wouldn't let her "rot with him in this hellhole". She knew he'd recover quicker if he wasn't worried about disappointing her, so she'd left.

She'd read the reports. She knew the stories. She knew it was the doppelganger of Ada Wong that was to be blamed. She knew that the convoluted history of Wong and Leon was longer than she wanted to think of. She knew that Leon had survived in China by the skin of his teeth as well.

There were rumors that Simmons had nearly gutted him before it was done. One report said he'd nearly thirty-six stitches to close up his back and chest. Apparently, he'd been gored during the final battle. Helena Harper was on record as saying the lightning rod they'd used to kill Simmons kept collapsing the corpses they attempted to use. The rot had caused too much degeneration of the skeletal structure to support the weight.

Faced with the mutated Simmons destroying the rest of Tatchi, Leon Kennedy had used his own body to end it. He'd impaled himself on the lightning rod and let Simmons snatch him. During the moment of impact, he'd cut himself off the rod and rolled away. The lightning had finished it before Helena Harper had sent Simmons to the beyond with that rocket launcher, but the damage was done.

By the time Leon landed on the roof via the helicopter he'd flown, he was nearly dead. He'd been swept off to be put back together. Claire had read that he'd impaled himself through the lower quadrant of his chest, attempting to avoid the lungs and the heart. He was right on the anatomy, but he'd underestimated the removal. It had torn like a zipper out his side as he'd freed himself.

She was curious what she'd find under that oatmeal sweater he wore so effortlessly. Of all of them, Leon had always been the most reserved. Where they'd go all out on Halloween - from Chris' hilarious take on a samurai to her slutty cowgirl (worn entirely to make Piers laugh) - it had always been a show and tell of tattoos and scars...but not Leon. Leon, with that face that made girls giggle, never flashed skin. He was like a Victorian lady or something, it was almost a running joke in the right circle. Of all of them, Leon was the only one to never bother. (*2)

The natural question was: What was he hiding under there?

She knew what she was hiding. Under the mantle of bad ass she wore, only four people in the whole world had ever seen the real her. Her brother, her husband, and Leon Kennedy...and now, apparently, Molly O'Shea.

Molly got her talking easily enough. They talked about Siobhan and her faith. She'd raised Claire to "walk in light" and "find her inner goddess". Claire had spent a greater portion of her youth believing that real power came from within and that you had to manifest your own destiny. That inner power had seen her through Raccoon City like a Valkyrie. She'd often wondered if her mother had been with her that night, guiding her when she was nearly lost. She knew, for a fact, the knowledge of herbs her mother had instilled in her had saved her life and Leon's that night.

She knew how to use a poultice to stop bleeding, to halt inflammation, to draw out infection and poison. When she'd found Leon fevered and shot, she'd known how to care for him. She'd been able to pull out her little fanny pack full of herbs and make sure he didn't die of gangrene.

Siobhan, Molly told her, was what was known as a Hedge Witch. Claire queried, "A Hedge Witch?"

Molly laughed, offering her another biscuit. It felt, vaguely, like the other woman was trying to fatten her up. She remarked, "There's no real consensus on what a hedge witch is. To be sure, it's a solitary one. In the 'olden days', a hedge usually symbolized a border between two neighboring villages. And so it is with a Hedge Witch – she can see beyond 'the border' and perceive messages from the Other World that exists beyond our physical perception and senses. Your mother knew things, Claire, and shared her truth with those who asked. She saw Jack long before he arrived on her doorstep, I'll tell yeh that."

Claire considered this as she sipped her tea. Did Siobhan see her own death? Or was it vaguer than that? Was it premonitions?

A cool chill spilled down her spine. She'd had one, the day the letter had arrived to tell her that Piers was lost. She'd had a moment when she'd stepped out of the shower and saw his face in the foggy mirror...but it hadn't been his face. It had been half monster, half man. A bulging eye in a sea of scars. A tilted mouth teeming with exposed tissue. She'd blinked, and it was gone.

But the letter was in the mailbox. The damage was done. He'd died after the C-Virus had invaded his body to give him the power to protect Chris. Had he appeared in that mirror to say goodbye? Was he...crossing over?

Shaking her head, Claire laughed, "I'm sorry. I just...I'm not able to believe stuff like this."

Molly nodded, smiling lightly, "It's not the easiest of thing to accept. But think on this, Claire, what is it that drew you here? Of all the places in the world you could've gone to grieve your husband and take back your life...yeh came here. Why?"

Claire didn't have the answer for the that. She only knew that something in her belly had told her this was where she needed to be. Not with Chris in the hospital. Not with Piers in the grave. Not with Piers' family in the States.

Here. A place where there was no one.

No...a place where was history. Hers. Her mother's. Her family's.

And Leon Kennedy.

Was it fate that had brought him into her life that night in Raccoon City? To become her guiding force when things were darkest? Was it their purpose to pull the other through when things were impossible?

Raccoon. Harvardville - when she'd almost given up with the knowledge she'd gotten all those people killed by stalling the T-Virus vaccine. Here- when he was healing the loss of a man who'd been like a father to her, and she was grieving the only man she'd ever loved.

He'd sent Chris to her on Rockfort Island. She'd sent the B.S.A.A. to the E.S.R. to extract him when his own government had declared him disavowed. He'd been on the rescue chopper that had found her after Sushestvovanie Island. She'd helped Ingrid Hunnigan bury the truth of death so he could chase Simmons in China. They were entangled in each other's lives. They were there when the other one needed pulling out of the dark.

Was there something about their friendship that was meant to give her hope in her greatest time of need?

She only knew that she didn't feel like she was buried in the hopeless loss here, close to him. In Harvardville, he'd talked her down from the ledge when she'd nearly given up the fight. She'd carried that blame like a blanket around her shoulders. Leon? He'd ripped that blanket off her and pulled her back into the fight.

"You chose the path of healer, Claire, it's a path your brother and I can't walk."

She turned her eyes to his face and he added, "You weren't wrong. Keep getting up, Claire. Keep helping. Keep holding on for those who can't. Help me, and I will scrub this virus from the face of the Earth."

She'd felt the shiver of determination in her guts. "Leon...thank you."

Leon had a way of rallying you back to the battle. He was always good at boosting morale. Being around him worked like a pep rally for the soul.

She considered that as she toured Ennis McDougall's horrible house with Molly. Her aunt sighed, drastically, and said, "I did a bit of cleanin but, as you can see, Ennis was a right gobshitte about up keep."

The thing had a sagging roof and leaking floorboards. The walls were cracked and needed plaster. The plumbing was half ripped out of the wall in the kitchen. It wasn't a "fixer upper". Oh no. It was a "lost cause." But Claire rolled up her sleeves anyway.

She shrugged, laughing lightly. "I've seen worse."

Molly gave her a wink and approving nod. "There's a girl. We'll turn this turd to a treasure together then."

They had a bucket full of cleaning supplies, a little Bluetooth speaker for Claire's phone, and the spirit of a thousand women that had come before them. It was just dirt and nails that needed to be taken care of here. Claire had never met a house she couldn't renovate.

She paused, considering that, and realized it was easier to throw herself into fixing this house than it was into fixing herself. But you know what? She mused quietly, One shitty problem at a time.

Claire mused, "You know anything demoing drywall?"

From behind her, the voice teased, "I know a thing or two about tearing down walls."

She glanced back at Leon. He'd simply walked on in, as was the way of things here. He had an enormous sledgehammer in one hand, and a basket in the other. She cocked her head and he laughed, "Food. Gotta eat right?"

Molly moved to kiss him, "Well, look at you, you handsome devil. What's been keepin yeh?"

"Seamus and Riley were fighting again. I had to put them in separate cells this time to sober up and cool down."

Molly laughed, shaking her head. She told Claire, "Two hotter headed eejits you'll never meet, Claire. And always fighting over the same lass. She can't be picking atween them, it seems, and so they're always having a row."

Leon moved to slide his hand along one of the bowed walls, looking pensive. Claire watched his mind work as he guided his eyes over the ceiling and back to the other wall, and added, "Harmless, is what they are. But stupid. Just need to cool off and they'll be pals again."

He nodded as if he'd come to some conclusion he'd been considering, and scooped a small elastic band off his wrist. He tugged his shaggy hair back and secured it out of his face, rolling his neck. He shed the oatmeal colored sweater and left himself in a white thermal beneath.

Molly mused, "You know what you're doing then, Mr. Kennedy?"

He picked up the sledgehammer and gestured with his head, "I do. Claire?"

She moved over beside him and he gestured with his head again. Shrugging, she stepped under his arm and hefted the sledgehammer. She smiled as she helped her lift it, supporting her wrists. "I can swing it, Leon. Honestly."

He winked at her and replied, "Maybe. But you're swinging for two now. Maybe we put my mind at ease and let me take the heavy stuff. What do you say?"

She laughed and shrugged. "Together then?"

"Together." He turned his head to look at her. She was always crucially aware of how incredible his face was when you took the hair away. The shaggy Keith Urban mop he'd been sporting was something in itself. But when you took it away, you got to see the bone structure under it. All sharp angles and cleft chin, it was a good face. It wasn't one you forgot. He smirked, "You ready to tear down this house of cards, kid?"

Was she?

Apparently, starting over meant tearing down what was left of what had stood before. Maybe they'd find under the ugly facade, a thing of beauty waited for them to build.

She wasn't alone. She had her family around her. She had her friend beside her.

She wasn't alone.

They were going to tear it down and rebuild it; together.

So, she shrugged, "Let's let this ugly bastard have it."

He laughed too, supporting her arms as she rolled up to swing the heavy sledgehammer, and he called, "Game over."

And she couldn't stop the laugh as the sledgehammer hit the wall, the rotten thing collapsed like Birkin with a face full of rocket, and they started pulling down the mess of her life - together.

(*1) Teaghlach (chye-lukh) -Family

(*2) Leon Kennedy remains the only character to not remove clothing in his costumes. We have no clue what's under those clothes. A curious thing, for Capcom's "sex symbol" hero.