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 Six:

Mirrors

Raccoon City - 2006

He should have known that Ada would make her appearance that night while he slept. After all, she'd made her appearance into his life plenty since he'd known her. She was as easy to catch as the wind - you felt her but you never really held her.

He'd held her - once...just once- a million years before he'd learned you couldn't love a ghost.

Somewhere between being a hero and being a martyr, he'd found her on his doorstep. The good guy in him had known she was bad, she was poison, she was murder in Manolo Blahnik's...but he'd opened that door anyway. Why? Ada was the type of woman he deserved.

He'd stood in the elevator while the city burned, watching it collapse and boil around him, hunting Simmons with the single minded determination of a bloodhound tracking a scent...and he'd known he was damned. Whatever he touched, it turned to shit. From his life to his job to his dedication, all of it burned while Tatchi burned.

A blaze of glory on a horizon turned red with blood.

He'd opened his door to Ada that night. He'd hiked up her dress and fucked her against the wall of his penthouse overlooking Manhatten. He'd turned her face to the side and kept his hand there while he'd plowed her. The spy. The perfect dagger in the dark. He'd taken her. After years of back and forth. After a life time of banter, three scotches and a pile of regret had put him between her thighs and in her clutches like nothing he'd ever known.

Ada had licked her red lips and moaned like a whore, clutching at him, a wolfish smile on her perfect mouth.

Fake. Lies. Even how she loved you was a lie. She fucked like a liar, like a whore, paid and perfect. Each lift of hips, each lie of her hands on his body, he'd known it wasn't anything but a game to her. It was the final failure for him.

All his life he'd chased the truth, the cause, the victory of good over evil. He'd come to the fight through blackmail, stayed in the fight to protect those he'd loved, and kept on fighting because he'd given up his life to it. The emptiness at the bottom of a bottle of scotch dragged through the guts until you either filled it with lies, or you choked on the silence.

He'd ripped her panties fucking Ada Wong. At first, she'd fought back a little. It seemed to excite her. In a culture of women resisting and being forced, Ada liked the struggle. She'd slapped his face and cursed him. She'd let him sling her face down over the coach and rip her thousand dollar gown at the shoulder to grab her breasts.

She'd incited him like the siren she was, spreading her legs to claim him.

In some way, she'd won. That victory over him, it was the final one. It left him eroded and numb. She'd left him standing in his kitchen staring into the dark covered in shame.

In the ESR, she'd teased him. "Are you still mad about that night?" But he wasn't mad. He was empty. He kept trying to find ways to fill it. He'd fuck women. He'd drink. He'd fuck women. He'd drink. He'd get high and higher and higher. He was so high once, he'd nearly plummeted off the roof of his building to see if he could fly.

But he was empty.

Putting Adam in the ground had almost killed him. The man who'd raised him. The man who'd been like a father. The man who'd been at birthdays and bought him a horse and taught him to shoot. He'd looked him in the rotting face and killed him.

It didn't matter that he was already dead.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter that he'd chased Simmons down to slaughter him in atonement for it. By the time he'd debriefed after Tatchi, he'd been dead inside anyway.

The second time Ada had shown up on his doorstep, he'd taken a look at her in the thigh highs and the bustier she wore and spoken low and cold, "Go home, Ada. There's nothing for you here."

He'd sent her away. Maybe she was what he deserved, but she wasn't what he wanted.

Each time he closed his eyes, he could see the boy who'd stood in a necropolis and said, "...go...GO...find your brother."

And Claire, hesitating...and finally, "I'm sorry."

She'd gone. She'd let him cover for her and chased her brother into the dark.

Was that why he'd never pursued her? Did some part of him blame her for what he'd become?

He was ashamed to realize the truth of it. He blamed her and Sherry for the monster they'd made him. He'd been a boy once, just a kid in a uniform looking to save the world, he was a monster now - created out of circumstance and survival.

Claire had never asked him to "save" her that night. She'd never asked him to stay behind and cover for her. But she knew he had. She knew. She never said a word about it later. She just...ran.

Each time he saw her, he was reminded of the life he'd wanted. Crazy to spend one night with a girl and feel like you might sacrifice your life for her. But he had. He kept on doing it for years.

Part of him knew he'd never have her. Ada? She's what he deserved. She was as fucked up and damaged as he was.

She'd taken his rejection to heart. She'd tried to lure him to his death in the Savannah. They'd nearly killed him captivity until Claire had located him and sent the BSAA to set him free.

The lady in red had paid them to torture him, they'd said. The lady in red. The BITCH in red.

Apparently, fucking Ada meant you ended up on the wrong end of a whip. He'd agonized on how to fight back. He'd considered bringing her in to try her for war crimes..but the Patriot Act, once invoked, meant he'd never see her face again.

He wanted to see her face when she died.

Then Ada Wong had stepped foot on the wrong runway. The tarmac of an airport in Laos. She'd played the wrong hand, she's pissed off the wrong cartel. She'd died in a bath of blood that was still a mystery.

But not to him. He'd been the one to tip off the cartel that she was working against them.

He'd sent her to her death. He'd stood on a neighboring roof to watch her get gunned down. Cold, maybe, but fitting. She wanted to play games, but he was tired of games. He just wanted it over with.

Was this how she repaid him? Giving him a glimpse into a life he'd never have? Was it another way to torture him?

And now he dreamed of her. "Why are you here?"

She shrugged, "You put me here. This is your dream."

He shook his head, angry, "You put me here. You did that. Why? You hate me that much?"

Surprised, Ada laughed a little. "Really? Why would I? The world we live in, the lives we lead, that eventually ends up in death Leon. We both know that. You beat me to it, sure. And that sucks for me. Because I wasn't ready. But I had it coming. I betrayed you. I had it coming."

He sat in the shadowy dream world and tried to figure her out, but it was like trying to unriddle the Sphinx...he just couldn't.

So he tried the other tact instead, "What if I want to stay here? Can I stay?"

Ada snorted a bit, "I don't have the power to help you stay either. I'm, literally, your guide here. I just give you the heads up, Leon, I don't make the rules."

"Ok. So who do I bargain with? Who do I talk to? The higher up? God? What?"

She shrugged again, "I don't know who the puppet master is. I just dance on my string like the rest of the world."

Annoyed, he pointed at her, "Since when are you anyone's puppet? You're nobody's pawn, Ada. What the hell is going on here?"

She tilted her head, "You're dead. You know that right? Your body is dying. Your brain is making up whatever the hell it wants right now. Is this real? Are you real? Is your other life real? Maybe this is your real life, Leon. Maybe it's always been your life. And you're just waking up from a long sleep to find that out."

Jesus. The existentialism was going to kill him here. He didn't know what that meant. Was he trapped here? Was it even really a trap at all? Was this what his dying mind wanted to picture before he went?

If so, why not make him a better man? Why make him a failure in both lives?

A curious thought. Did he consider himself a failure in his real life? A little, yeah he did. He was alone. He was miserable. He was a drunk and a semi-drug addict who used crutches to deal with his utter lack of personal growth. He was a stunted adolescent who used sex to cope with his own emptiness.

He was, really, a bit of a failure. All the asses he'd ever kicked, all the lives he'd ever saved...it didn't change the fact that he was 40 in the real world and alone. Alone. Miserably so. At least Claire had never given up on finding her happiness there.

She'd pursued some ugly relationships and lost at it, sure, but she was still out there trying. Him? He'd curled up in the crappy pit of his self imposed misery and died there in spirit, even if the flesh was still willing.

And now here he was - in another life - where he'd disappointed all the people in his world that loved him. He was a lackluster loser without much hope of making up for lost time. He'd sleepwalked through his whole life - on both sides of the fence.

It was pretty fucking pathetic.

Was this glimpse meant to show him what a waste his life had been?

He inquired, "Can I go back?"

Ada tilted her head, "To your body?"

"No...no to BEFORE...to before...I don't know. To where I was young and...hopeful."

With sympathy, Ada shook her head, "It doesn't work that way either. It's not a time machine, Leon. It's just a glimpse."

He sighed, looking into the silvery shadows of the dreamworld. "I don't know what to do here. I want to go back and see these kids be born. I want to go back and knock Claire up. I want to hold them, smell them, raise them...I don't know if I can just see this life, Ada, and walk away when it's done. I don't think I'm strong enough."

She shrugged a delicate shoulder, "The Rolling Stones have a whole song about that, Leon. Come on, you know the answer. You know the lyrics...sing it with me." She sang, gently, "You can't always get what you want..."

He shook his head, turning away.

But she kept singing, "You can't always get what you want...but if you try sometimes...you just might find..." She trailed off. He glanced at her and shook his head,

But he finished the song, "...you get what you need."

She nodded, giving him earnest eyes, "Get what you need, Kennedy. That's all any of us can ever do. What do you need? Maybe that's what you're here to find out. What do you need?"

He didn't know the answer. And maybe that's what the glimpse was all about.

What did he need?

He woke up to find Claire going down on him. It was a good start.

His hands fisted in her hair as he watched her. This was like being that kid in Raccoon City again. In a way, for him, it was. It was the first time he'd ever touched her, ever let himself look or want or need her. Need. It was all over him for her. She responded to him like a woman who'd loved a man forever, aroused and flushed with want of him.

She responded like a woman who'd married a man and spent her life with him.

But him? It was a boy with a crush who'd finally said yes. He couldn't keep his hands off her. He didn't want to. He knew there was the unspoken thing about her not being able to have a baby. He knew that.

She didn't say what it was. He wasn't sure there was a way to ask without revealing he wasn't, entirely, the man she'd married. The man she'd married would know WHY she couldn't get pregnant anymore.

But the guy in her bed? He wasn't that guy.

He felt his balls tighten and grunted, gripping her hair to pull her off him. She made a little sound of remorse to leave his throbbing dick behind and he shook his head, rolling her to her back. He didn't want to waste it. Any of it.

She kicked her legs to get rid of her sweatpants and he took himself in his fist to angle him into her. They coupled quick, Claire coming almost the second he shoved her panties to the side to fuck her. He plunged three times between her thighs and followed her, clutching a handful of the little shirt she wore in his hand to hold her down for it.

Shit.

What did he need?

There was a sound at the door that signaled children waking up. He could hear Ben taking the dog down to let her outside. Claire started to roll away and he shook his head, holding her there beneath him while he finished in her. Although he wasn't sure he ever really would.

His thumb stroked her throat. His eyes scanned her face. He avowed, "I don't know that I'll get over how beautiful you look."

She flushed, looking pleased. Her legs parted a little farther to let him settle there against her, still buried inside her. Her hands shifted to palm his ass, stroking him. "Charmer. You already got in my pants. You don't have to flatter me after."

Ugh. His other self was a real fucking joke. Did he never compliment his wife other than to get laid?

Likely not, the idiot.

Leon shook his head and slid his hand under her top to brush at her belly. She immediately flinched like he'd hit her. She was so sensitive about her belly.

He lifted that shirt to look at her and she tried to tug it back down. "Don't," She protested gently, "I'm too fat."

Lord.

He arched a brow at her and shifted. He slid out of her body and she sighed even as he sat up and drummed his hands on his gut. They held gazes until Claire broke first and laughed. "You're not fat, Leon."

He drummed his hands on his belly again like he was playing the bongos.

Claire laughed and kicked him in the butt as she looped her leg over him and rolled to her feet. "Not the same thing."

"...why not?"

"You never gave birth, hot stuff. The rest of us? We have stretch marks and a fat ass. You just have...a little love handles."

"Your ass is fantastic, Claire. Your gorgeous. Stop talking about yourself like that. It pisses me off."

She paused at the bathroom door, looking at him. "Why?"

"Because you're wrong." He shrugged and rolled to his feet. "You look exactly like you did that night I met you. And I'd have turned you over the soft tail you were riding and fucked you right then...if we weren't in the middle of a ni-."

Nope. They hadn't ever been there at all. He stopped talking, forgetting there was no necropolis. There was just two people that met and dated and fell in love.

So he rephrased, quickly, "The middle of my first shift." Yikes.

She kept staring at him until he asked, "What?"

"I don't know. I keep waiting to wake up and find you back to your old self. But you're still..." She trailed off, "You're still acting like you've never fucked me before. It's..."

He mused, "Weird? Is it weird?"

"No. Weird? Hah. No. It's incredible. I just don't want to spoil it."

"Then stop talking about yourself like you're not the most beautiful woman in the world."

She laughed, shaking her head, "Deal. Sheesh. You get why I'm insecure a little right?"

He followed her into the shower and they shared the spray, washing each other. He soaped her tits while standing behind her. Her little butt kept rubbing on his belly.

He sighed, "Because I've been a shitty husband."

Surprised, Claire glanced over her shoulder, "No. Not really. Sad maybe...but not shitty. Don't say that."

Her loyalty never failed to surprise him. His other self didn't deserve her. She was faithful to him when he was clearly a complete asshole to her. It was amazing that she'd defend him.

She could have fucked Wesker, as horrifying as the image was, but she hadn't. She'd just let a man flirt with her and make her feel good about herself. Something her fucking husband should have been doing all along.

So he asked, "Then why?"

Claire glanced at him again, and laughed, "Because I'm me. And you're you."

He soaped down her belly and she flinched again. He was going to kick his other self in the balls if they ever had the misfortune to meet. He was just betting that idiot version of him had made her feel fat at some point.

"Meaning?"

"You flirt with some of the other wives at the bowling alley and I get it. I do. Jill. Anita. Brad's wife Anna. Susan..."

"Who?"

"Joseph's wife."

Right. All these formerly dead cops were alive. They were all married. He was, apparently, the guy who flirted with all the wives. Lord. He was afraid his other self hadn't just been flirting.

But Claire finished her statement, "You flirt with them and I get it. They're all...perfect, ya know? Poised. Ladies. I think...you'd probably flirt with me more if I didn't have mustard on my tee shirt and bed hair all the time."

He was quiet for so long she glanced over her shoulder at him. "Sorry. I'll work on the low self esteem."

Leon shook his head, "It's not you. It's me. I'm a fucking idiot. Let me say this in case I haven't made it clear here...I don't want anyone else, Claire. Ever. The minute I met you? I knew you were too good for me. I should have spent the rest of our lives worshiping you."

She laughed and smacked his ass when she reached around his hip, "You're so charming this morning."

He sighed and kissed her behind the ear, "I know it. You gonna let me cum on your tits now?"

"...aaaaand just like that you lost it."

"Let me put my dick in you again and we'll find it together."

"...pervert." She laughed as he groped at her crotch haphazardly.

"It'll just take a minute, Claire. I promise."

"Oh, lord. A whole minute?"

"Yup. Sixty seconds of afternoon delight for you, kid. I bet you can barely wait."

It made her giggle and turn in his arms to hug him. He gripped that little butt of hers and held on. What did he need?

Claire.

Claire. He knew that much. The rest of it? He was still figuring out.

They spent the day together with the kids. They went on a walk. They cleaned up the house. They watched some bad reruns on television.

He kept expecting to see someone with an iPhone but remembered there were no real smart phones in 2006.

So instead? They all spent time together as a family. Leon attempted to work out and nearly threw his hip out. He ran around the block and limped home breathless with a stitch in his side.

He went into the garage to beat up the heavy bag and nearly crippled himself.

When Claire was putting the baby down for a nap, he gathered up a Ben and the dog and took them walking. Ben chattered on and on and on about everything.

He talked about farting on a cat and asked if he was going to hell for it.

He mentioned a girl in his class trying to kiss him (GROSS) and if it was ok to hide from her the next time he saw her.

He wanted to know if aliens like Leon were rare or were they everywhere? Did he have red blood or acid blood? Did he fart fire!? He'd seen a movie that had aliens farting fire.

And then Ben said something that made Leon pause, "Maybe you could give me a brother."

Surprised, Leon tilted his head, "Your mom can't have any more babies, right?"

Ben shrugged, kicking at snow. "Her said that. But I think maybe she just doesn't want to be fat no more, ya know? Because my Dad..."He trailed off and shrugged.

Leon licked his teeth, "Your Dad was kinda mean about your Mom being fat right?"

Ben shrugged again and spoke, quietly, "Maybe sometimes he made her cry a little. When they fighted."

Asshole. Fucking cock sucking asshole with good hair. Lord. He HATED his other self. It was official. He was never leaving. He was staying here forever. Why? This kid, Claire, that baby...they deserved better than the asshole she'd married.

The truth? Raccoon City had made him a better man. Apparently, without it, he'd have been a douchebag.

Leon rubbed his soft hair, and said gruffly, "I'm sorry. Your Mom deserves better than that."

Ben glanced up at him as they started walking again, "Yeah...she wanted to have more babies, I think. But my Dad told her he had a vas..ectoly? A vasalogomy?"

Leon paused, blinking. His chest seized, twice, "...a vasectomy?"

"Yeah." Ben nodded, happily, "He said he had a vasectomy so he couldn't have no more babies. Maybe you can? I want a brother. Max Johnson has a brother. Stu at school has two of them. Uncle Chris has all boys. Mom said Aunt Jill is finally getting her girl though. I need a brother."

Leon's heart was racing. His other self was infertile. By choice. He'd chosen to get snipped.

But what if he wasn't?

What if he was still intact?

So he said, "...would you be ok if I got your Mom pregnant?"

Ben glanced up at him again, grinning, "Sometimes I like you better than my other Dad. You make my Mom happy. I think that would be ok...but it has to be a BOY. No more girls."

Leon cleared his throat, twice, "Right. Only boys."

"Only boys. We can start a club house out back."

"No girls allowed?"

"No girls...well maybe sometimes girls can come...if they bring cookies."

"Seems like a fair trade."

They let the dog back into the house. Claire was just finished making dinner. They all sat and ate and laughed.

He read Ben a book and put him to bed. They cleaned up the kitchen. He kept thinking about if he was sterile or not. He knew he was going to find out.

Why?

Because Ben wanted a brother.

Claire yawned and tossed her socks as she came hurrying into the room. "Baby - out for the count. Ben - finished with bathroom break one. We have...maybe seven minutes."

He tilted his head at her, "Seven minutes huh?"

"Oh, yeah. Seven minutes is all I have to play with you."

Seemed like a long enough time to knock a girl up.

He gripped her waist and tossed her beneath him. His heart was racing.

And for the first time in his life, Leon Kennedy was nervous to make love to a girl. Why?

Because it was highly possible that they weren't just making love...they just might be making a baby.