GLIMPSE:

A Resident Evil Short Story

Starring:

Leon S. Kennedy and Claire Redfield

Guest Starring:

Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Sherry Birkin, Albert Wesker and the Ghost of Ada Wong

Part Two:

Maniac

Raccoon City - 2006

Chris was less worried about him as they went back to the house. He was more sedate, seemed calmer, probably because he was half convinced he was dead inside. This was what the world thought would be more to his liking. THIS. This was his life now.

He was a teacher, in a town that was utterly normal. He was the adoptive parent of Sherry Birkin - a quick question to Chris netted him the reason why that was the case as well. Apparently Sherry's parents had dumped her off when they'd fled the country. Claire had petitioned for adoption after seeing her at the police station, alone and unwanted.

He had two children of his own - Ben, the boy...and baby. He didn't know the baby yet. He knew the baby was blonde and cute. Was it a girl baby? It was probably a girl baby. It had his hair and Claire's eyes. He'd been a toe head when he was young, after all.

He paused at the window as they moved up the porch. He was overweight, he was out of shape, he was a newly appointment principle at the highschool where his father had held the same job for years. His father had died after a lengthy battle with cancer. It had happened after Raccoon the first time as well, but he'd been so deep undercover for USSTRATCOM that he hadn't known about it for almost three months.

He couldn't shoot. He couldn't fight. He couldn't fuck. He was just a dude. Just a regular dude in a world gone wrong. He couldn't do a damn thing but go back in that house and deal with it.

He wasn't Leon Kennedy anymore. That's just the way it was. He couldn't sit around bitching. It wouldn't change a thing.

Albert Wesker caught sight of him and mused, "Better, Mr. Kennedy? Of course, frequent cardiovascular activity would improve your lung function. So you wouldn't return from a short sprint so winded."

Albert Wesker was in his house giving him workout advice. Apparently, they were acquaintances. Friends seemed...a long stretch here. But he was friendly enough that they were chilling on Christmas together.

He couldn't keep worrying about stuff like that. He couldn't care.

He wasn't a bad ass secret agent in a bio terror game of life and death anymore. He couldn't keep clinging to the past. He'd been granted a chance to see the other side. It was a GIFT.

Claire called, "Babe? Can you get another case of beer from the basement?"

He was just a husband. He could do this. He could.

He made it halfway down the stairs when he caught sight of the basement itself. Some kind of man cave. It was a Barcalounger and a big screen t.v. It was a basket to one side where Claire was knitting some kind of blanket for the baby. It was a big freezer in the corner and a fridge to one side stocked with drinks. There was a Playstation parked on the console in midgame.

He moved toward it and hit the start button.

The game popped up and it was a creepy voice announcing, "Reeeesident Eeeeevil...foooour."

Curious, Leon picked up the controller. It was a weird eyeball rolling in a naked socket for a second before it popped up the main character.

He froze, blinking. The guy looked a HELL of a lot like him. He was running around the rural countryside in a stupid looking jacket with a single handgun. The game kept his attention as he fought through...his own life. It nearly stole his breath. How? How in the hell?

There was Sera and Ashley. There was enormous trolls and huge lake monsters. He ducked and rolled and blasted things. It was HIM. It was his fucking life.

From the stairs, Claire queried, "Babe? What's taking so long?"

He shook his head, feeling the tremble of fear. What was real? Was he real? Was this life his real life? Was his memory before this...nothing but a video game?

He pointed at the screen, "Where...where's the other games?"

"The other Resident Evil (copyright Capcom) games?"

"Yeah. I need...I need to just..." He shifted and dug through cases. And there was his life. Their lives. Their past.

It was Mansions and Necropolises and Death. But it wasn't them. The characters in the game were WRONG. Elza Walker instead of Claire Redfield. Rick Grimes instead of Leon Kennedy. Who the fuck was Rick Grimes!?

It wasn't Jill and Chris in the mansion. Wesker wasn't the bad guy. It was some guy named Ark Thompson and a girl named named Fiona Belli. It was all WRONG. It was just wrong.

He dropped the controller and moved to pick up the beer. Claire was watching him so strangely, "You ok, honey?"

Leon nodded, forcing a smile, "Yup. I'm good. Just...having one of those mornings right? I woke up feeling like Jimmy Stewart or something."

Claire smiled and rubbed his butt as she passed him. "I hear ya. Holidays make us all nuts."

"No kidding." He followed her perfect ass up the stairs, shaking his head. What did he do? He gave Christmas his best effort. Why not?

What good would it do to sit downstairs and play games and avoid life? This is what he was here for. It was time to start doing it.

He shared a beer with Coen and Rebecca. He listened to Jill talk about Diaper Genies. He played pool with Ryman and Jim Chapman. He snuck off to smoke weed with Sherry (and she mused that he might have to stop being so cool when he started as the principle dude. For real.)

It wasn't a bad day when he stopped feeling like he was accosted by the world's most boring life.

Wesker was weird. He was never NOT uptight, but the woman at his side helped. She was Anita Muller, Jake's mother. She was pretty and smiling. He was not really a good dad, in truth, he was critical and harsh in his response to his little son's outbursts. But Anita had a charming effect on him. She rubbed his back and soothed the beast somehow.

They had a rousing game of Dirty Santa where everyone opened a perverted gift given to them by an anonmyous source. Leon opened a bottle of Viagra and had laughter spilling around the room. Chris hooted, "We've heard about your lack of prowess in the sheets, old man!"

LORD. He was a laughingstock. He was the guy who never fucked. He was a joke.

Claire rubbed his shoulder and defended him, "He's TIRED! He works eighty hour weeks! We have a baby who keeps us up at odd hours! You all leave him alone!"

Yep. He was a joke.

And Ryman mused, "Maybe he could spend a little time on the treadmill too. Tubby couldn't fit in his bowling shirt last week. He had to leave it unbuttoned."

That was it. The fat jokes had to stop. Leon set down his beer, and the laughter swelled. Claire gave him a sad look, "Don't do that. Enjoy your damn beer. Fuck these people."

And Leon sighed, "Apparently, I'm not fucking anyone."

Her lips settled at his ear, "Yeah? The day ain't done, hot stuff."

His tummy shivered. There was THAT. That was good. That was the good stuff. Claire. She was the good about this life.

He lifted his eyes to her face as she laughed at something Rebecca said. She was perched on the arm of the chair where he sat, clutching the slutty lingerie someone had given her. She was his. That was the thing about this life he was in. She was his.

Testing the theory, he tugged the hand on his shoulder. She spilled down to sit on his lap. No thinking. No hesitation. She just looped her arm around his neck and kept on laughing.

Yep. His.

The rest he could fix. He could fix it. He'd just...start living. So he mused, "It could be worse I guess. I could be recovering from the effects of steroids and have a thumb where my dick should be."

The laughter spilled fresh and happy. Redfield gave him the finger. And it got better.

At one point, he was handed the baby. It was a girl. It was content to stare at him and Claire remarked, "Change her would ya, babe?"

Yikes.

Leon rose, moving up toward the family colored bedroom. Surely it was hers. He muttered, "You once fought twelve lickers with just an assault rifle and your bare hands. You can change a damn nappie."

He laid the baby on the changing table, eyeing it. "Don't roll over, ok? Or...jump? Or whatever."

From the doorway, Ben remarked, "She doesn't jump, Dad. You know that."

"Right. Can you...hand me the..." He gestured with his hands to indicate wiping a butt, "The wipe things."

Ben brought him the baby wipes, giving him an odd look. Leon held that gaze even when he opened the diaper, and exclaimed, "Jesus in a red thong..holy...god in heaven high on crack...what the hell is that?"

Without missing a beat, Ben said, "Poop. It's poop."

Right.

Leon slapped a wipe lightly on his daughter's bared bottom, afraid to touch the poop too much. Ben gave him a judging look and remarked, "Front to back, Dad. You can't get poop in her peeps."

Right. DURF. Right.

Leon wiped the baby who eyed him with pretty eyes and giggled. She offered him part of the cracker she was eating which was basically a mushy mess. He shook his head, "Nah, girl. You keep it."

She kept holding it up, determined, so he leaned down and took a mushy bite. It made her just..laugh. Gut rolling, giggling, high pitched happy laughter. She squealed and wiggled, she grabbed his nose to gum it. He figured, why not? And he made monster munching sounds.

It worked like a charm. She just exploded with happiness.

So this...this part was good too. The poop? Terrible. It was so bad. But it was clean now and smelled good. And it liked to laugh.

Personally, he felt like he was a funny guy, but most often his puns drew groans instead of laughter. This small version of him liked his jokes, clearly.

He mused, "Did you know that diarrhea is hereditary?It runs in your genes."

The baby just giggled and wiggled. Yep. She liked his puns. It was two cookies up from her. Ben said, "She needs a new diaper 'afore her pees on you."

Right. That was true as well. Leon gripped one from the weird contraption beside him, after three failed attempts to open the fucking thing that was harder to get into than Fort Knox, and brought it over to the baby.

He lifted her bottom by gently tugging up her legs and slid the diaper under her. But he wasn't sure how it stayed on. Did he need tape or something?

He hesitated and Ben commented, "Pull the tabs Dad."

Naturally.

"Thanks." He did, securing the thing to his daughter. She grinned and he grinned back at her. She grinned wider so he said, "People who tell you that they're constipated are full of crap."

She cooed at him. Yep. Best audience ever.

Ben whispered, "...you're not my Dad, are you?"

Yikes. So the kid was smart. Made sense. He was, after all, the child of a genius. Leon winced and said, "Not exactly. Yes, but no."

Ben nodded, taking a deep breath, "I knew it. I knew it dis morning. It finally happened."

Curious, Leon queried, "What?"

"Da Aliens gotted you."

AH. Ha. Oh lord. Leon nodded, looking pensive, "I am here while they experiment on your Dad. But he's FINE. He's great. He's good." The kid looked like he might cry, "He's good. He'll be back real soon."

Ben nodded and asked, "Can you make Mac and Cheese?"

A good question. Leon answered, "Like a champ. Hotdogs in it?"

Ben nodded, considering him. "Can you play guitar?"

Thank GOD, he still did that apparently, "Yep."

"...do you like kids?"

The baby was listening intently too. Leon glanced between them. He figured they were alright for small versions of adults. So he mused, "Yep. I like you guys. You like puns?"

And the kid replied, "Do clown farts smell funny?"

Yep. Best kid ever.

Leon laughed, shaking his head, "We'll get along just fine, kid."

"I think so,"Ben stuck out his hand to shake, "Welcome to Earth."

It was a helluva Christmas.

When the last well wisher had left, Leon found himself cleaning up. This was a first time experience as well, considering he'd never really done it before. He had maids for that reason.

He washed dishes and put them away. Ben helped him clean up the living room. The baby was asleep by seven and Ben was in bed by eight. At eight fifteen, Claire came running into the bedroom throwing her socks.

He ducked where he was sitting on the bed with a book and missed the first one in the face.

"Hurry!" She urged, closing the bedroom door, "We've got about forty minutes before the first potty episode."

He blinked at her, "Yeah?"

"Yep. Show me whatcha got, hotstuff."

Lord.

She tugged down her jeans, tossing them on the floor. Her curvy hips were perfect and she shed her sweater like it was nothing. The bra was blue, the panties white, the tits perfect.

She had a little scar on her belly from a c-section.

She laughed, shaking her head, "You keep doing that."

A little warm, he breathed, "What?"

"Looking at me like it's the first time. You trying to turn me on?"

"Nope. How's it workin?"

"It's working." She laughed and fisted a handful of his shirt to drag him over, "Hurry hurry. Before somebody wakes up crying."

He tilted her face, looking at her in the low light from the lamp. "You want me?"

Her eyes twinkled, "Always. Come on."

Why not? It was time.

He shucked his shirt as she reached for her clasp on her bra. His hands stopped her, shaking his head, "Slow. Slow down. Let me see you."

She blinked, flushing a little, "You're really doing this romance thing, huh?"

Saddened by that, he answered, "Maybe it's time for a little."

She nodded, sliding her hands up into his hair. "Maybe you're right."

He considered her, appreciating the smooth skin her back and the swan like curve of her neck. His hands caught her hips and he tugged, spilling her onto her belly on the bed. She giggled, wiggling a little, "Yep. I like it."

He put his lips to the back of her neck, whisper soft. She went still. His tongue slid down the curve of her spine and she stopped laughing. When he reached her bra, his hands slid around the front to find the clasp between her breasts.

He tugged her up to her knees on the bed and walked on his knees until he was pressed against her from behind. The clasp gave and his hands caught the spill of her breasts as they were freed into his palms. She made a small sound as he molded her.

So maybe it was the wrong guy in the mirror of the dresser next to the bed, maybe, but the moves were all him. The girl in the mirror was perfect, beautiful and ripe. The bra slid down her arms to be forgotten as she moaned and turned her head. He kissed her, wet and needy.

It was enough of being a joke. The joke was on them. Maybe the other idiot who'd once been in this body was bad in bed. But him? He knew what the fuck he was doing.

His hand slid down and into her panties to feel her. She mewled a little, bucking back against him as he claimed her with questing fingers. She came apart so quickly that he kinda hated his other self because clearly she was hot for it. She was needy. She was passionate. What kind of stupid asshole didn't plow her nightly? What kind of life could they have that left them celibate?

She came all over his hand and gasped into his mouth with it. He flipped her to her back, sliding down her body to put his mouth all over her. Claire made small, desperate sounds. "Oh, god, I thought...oh god..."

He leaned up, looking down at her. His hands skimmed her hips to slide her panties to the side and he played his thumb into the heat of her while she gasped and he asked, "Thought what?"

Her breath hitched as she gasped, "I thought...after the baby...I never really got my body back, ya know? You've been so..." He hooked his thumb higher, she bowed, and her thighs trembled.

And Leon grumbled, "That's done, sweetheart. That's over. Your body is beautiful, Claire. Let me show you."

He shifted her panties to the side to show her. She gripped the headboard, making a small cry of need as he put his face between her legs and worshiped her. She bucked, unable to stay quiet. He hummed, he rolled his tongue, he drowned in the flavor of her.

She was nothing like he'd imagined. She was better. She was perfect and giving and all curves and perfection. His hands played with her breasts as he tasted her, savoring it, and severing the last idea of the guy who didn't give a fuck. What a fucking douche, he admonished his other dimension self, the guy was a bad lay and an idiot.

Well, that was done.

She grabbed the pillow to throw it over her face and groaned, grunting and jerking. Finally, she tossed the pillow and grabbed handfuls of his hair, "I'm gonna come all over you if you don't stop!"

He licked and had her squirming. She dragged him up, scrambling her legs. She grunted, "Panties, hotstuff. Hurry."

He laughed, tugging her panties down her legs. She fumbled for his zipper and he caught a look of himself in the mirror. UGH. UGH. He was something else. A pudgy little guy with good hair.

She caught the line of his eyes and shook her head, "Stop it. Stay with me. Leon!"

He brought his gaze back to her face and she breathed, "Stay with me. Ok?"

He nodded and felt that awe again that she was here. It nearly stole his breath. He answered, "Condom?"

She blinked, looking confused, "Why? You know I can't get pregnant anymore."

And there was another reason things were strained between them. He was sure of it. She'd had their last baby and something had gone wrong. What?

It didn't matter. It wasn't the moment for any of that. She was telling him he could fuck her bareback. He didn't care anymore about anything else.

He bicycled his legs and got rid of his jeans. Claire opened her thighs to him, shaking. "It doesn't matter how long it lasts, ok?"

He nearly froze. There it was. The truth. He was a two pump chump.

Angry, he grabbed her hips to roll them. She gasped, sliding with the movement until she was on top. And Leon murmured, "Take what you want, Claire. As fast as you want, as slow as you want. As long as you want."

She looked a little starry eyed. She was flushed and shaking. She leaned down to kiss him, slow and smooth. "You sure?"

Hoarsely, he answered, "Yeah. Never been more sure of anything in my life. Go."

She went. She mounted him and went slow, sinking and shaking. Shaking. They both were. Because he was beneath her and watching her use him. She was wet and tight and perfect.

She clasped his hands on the headboard with hers and rode.

When she got close enough, he helped himself to a mouthful of her breasts and got sounds of need for it. Hurry, she'd said, but there was none of that. No rush here. No race.

When she started quaking, he rolled her over again. They spilled across the bed and she opened her legs for him. And he rode her instead.

Claire grabbed at him, clutching and bucking, "Oh, god...oh god..." Her mantra. His as well.

He hesitated to come in her, even though he knew she couldn't get pregnant. She must have sensed it because she opened her eyes and whispered, "Fill me up, baby, ok? Fill me up."

That worked. He was done.

He grunted, one hand clutching her throat to drag her to his mouth. He kissed her while he came in her, jerking and gasping. She swallowed it down and held on to him, hands gripping his ass like claws.

So maybe this wasn't his life. But apparently in this one? This was his wife.

He shuddered and tongued her mouth as he finished. She mewled softly and looped him tighter inside her. "Holy god..." She breathed, "I love you."

And he liked that. He liked it. It was the first time he felt like maybe he wasn't just fucking some nameless girl to feel less dead. Maybe he was fucking some perfect girl to feel ALIVE.

His girl. His wife.

Claire.

He said her name and leaned up to look at her, rolling his hips to let her take more of him. "Claire." She gasped, clutching him harder.

"Leon...I missed you."

It was incredible to know he'd missed her too. This is what he'd been missing all along. This. Her. Maybe it wasn't him in this life. Maybe it wasn't really him.

But would he trade that to have her?

So maybe there were things in this life worth sticking around for after all.