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 Eight:

A Million Dreams

Raccoon City - 2006

There was little enough to do when you were a highschool principle. After dealing with drama, sexting during class issues, a jock stealing ADHD meds from his girlfriend, and a handful of kids cutting class to get high behind the dumpster - he was ready for the stagnant joy of his office. To his initial joy, Sherry had left the computer cued up to a fanfiction website.

There were various categories and he spent the first half an hour discovering a strange fascination with the world of Sonic the Hedgehog that he wished he could unsee. But none of it prepared him for what happened when he clicked on the RESIDENT EVIL icon. A stupid thing - a blinking eyeball? And what kind of name was RESIDENT EVIL, in all caps like it was meant to scare you?

Shit. It was bio-terror. Couldn't they have come up with a better name?

Like Biohazard Badass or something?

He chuckled, clicking on some of the links.

Apparently, his character was popular. He was quite the ladies man. In multiple stories, he was banging chics like a rock star. Amused, he clicked through some writer's fertile playground where he spent way too much time with Jill Valentine's character. Chuckling, he mused, "We never even worked together. What kind of a couple does that make? The imagination is a crazy place."

He clicked off "The Frosty Lady" profile and almost closed the whole thing down...when he saw a single story that stopped him in his tracks. It was entitled Love Among the Ruins - Two Heroes, Two Hundred Days. It was a car wreck - he just couldn't look away. It was his character, being a lothario again, but not with the ladies. Oh no. Oh no at all. It was his character being a lothario...with Chris Redfield's.

It was so well written, by the perverted Frosty Lady, who was CLEARLY no lady at all, that is was hard to pick it apart besides a few grammatical errors made by a rushed, and probably giggling, girl. But the content. THE CONTENT. It was filthy! It was him playing the catcher to the overly buffed out boulder punching butthole that was related to his wife.

It was mortifying.

He shouted, slapping his desk, "I would never bottom for that monkey!" Although honestly would it hurt? After the roids, Redfield likely had a dick like a bowling alley pencil. How bad could it hurt to have that shoved up your shitter?

Leon muttered and cursed, closing down the screen just as Sherry wandered in. "Sup, old timer. You ready to roll?"

He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he gathered his briefcase. He was so wrapped up in picturing the horror of him "submitting to the splendiforous embrace of a man's ecstasy" that he didn't even notice Sherry nearly side swipe a mini-van, or potentially run over the neighbor's dog, or fail to yield at a four way and almost cause an accident. Sherry, cruising half in the wrong lane, remarked, "What's with you?"

He shook his head, grumbling, "What kinda trashy shit do you read anyway? You read about man ramming and stuff like that?"

She blinked, twice, and finally laughed. Her pink hair jiggled in the funky braids she had tucked around her elfin face. "Man ramming? What the hell were you reading?"

He shifted in his seat, pouting, "Some stupid crap. What's M-Preg?"

She nearly ran over a lady carrying a bag of groceries as she swerved while laughing. The woman's cursing chased them down the street as Sherry giggled, "M-Preg!? Are kidding?"

"Yeah. Some stupid story had m-er-I mean-some dude," He lifted his hands to air quote, "M-pregged by another dude. What is that?"

Sherry giggled again as she pulled the car into the driveway and nearly hit Claire's station wagon. "That's male pregnancy, Kennedy. The dude in your story? He's knocked up by another dude."

Oh no.

Oh HELL NO.

His face paled. His teeth snapped together and he shouted, "Are you fucking kidding!? In what universe do two dude's get pregnant!?"

Sherry shrugged, leaping from the car in her ripped tights and combat boots, with her skirt and hoodie in army green. She chewed her gum, smacking her black lips. "It's a thing, dude. Don't flip out. Just chill and go with it. Why not? To each their own right?"

She raced inside, looking like Harley Quinn waiting for the Joker.

People were writing stories where he was impregnated by Chris Redfield. The Frosty Lady was NO lady. She was a tramp! A slut. A purveyor of filthy lies! If he ever met her, he was going to destroy her for writing such senseless garbage where he was the star. How dare she impugn his good name!? He was a HERO! A HERO! Not a bitch boy bottom to Roidfield.

Oh he was on fire. He was lit. He was so angry it echoed across the valley as he slammed into the house.

Claire was in the middle of cooking dinner and wiped her hands on the towel, seeing his face. "Bad day?"

He pointed at her and declared, "Take off your pants and meet me in the bedroom. I'm gonna drill you into the mattress."

Her face flushed and her eyes twinkled. "Thank god for bad days huh? Ben won't be home for another hour from soccer with Jill and Chris. The babies down for a nap. Have I been a bad girl?"

She blinked at the look on his face. No humor there. He looked like a bull blowing and pawing the earth. It made her blood catch fire as she kicked off her slippers. One hit the wall beside him, the other knocked over the lamp and sent it to the floor. She grabbed at her apron and jerked on it, getting fired up.

"Oh, you're mad."

He nodded, jerking at his tie. "Yeah. I'm mad. I'm a MAN, Claire! A MAN! Your brother is NOT better than me."

She tilted her head, curious about his mood. "No? He's bigger." That worked, she thought wildly, he was REALLY fired up now. It made her laugh as he grabbed her, half dressed and all, and launched her over his shoulder.

"Enough of that, woman. I'll show you who's bigger."

She was still laughing as he kicked their door closed to prove what kind of man he was.

It was pretty amusing to Claire that Leon didn't even come out of their bedroom when Jill and Chris arrived to drop off Ben. He was pouting about something, though she wasn't sure what. She finished making dinner while he played with Gigi and Ben.

They were always begging for him to sing to them, so she listened as he did. When he started, she cut her thumb as her hands jerked in surprise.

There were so many things about him that hand changed. Sometimes she wondered if she was looking at the same man. He was working out, he was home on time, he didn't drink. He looked at her like she moved mountains. He spoke to her like his tongue was made of silver. He was perfect. The perfect man she'd met all those years ago had become the perfect husband.

He loved her. He loved his children. He was happy and healthy and virile. He fucked her bow legged and cooked for her. She was so happy. She was almost afraid of it.

And now this.

This.

She listened, setting down the knife to rinse her bleeding thumb in the sink. He'd always been half decent at singing. Not bad; not great. Like he had potential if he ever really applied himself. But, like in all things, Leon never applied himself to anything. He half assed his way through life on good looks and unrealized talent.

She froze, listening to the thought as it crossed her mind. It was true. She'd always felt like Leon was stagnant in his life. He'd died when his father did, letting himself become a shadow of himself. Somehow, he was alive again. He'd been reborn, resurrected or something, and she was afraid he'd just die again while she was busy holding on too tight.

But the voice of the man in the living room...it wasn't his. It wasn't. It was the voice of a man who'd really lived or something. His voice was rich, flawless, lilting and smooth like aged whiskey. He infused the song with something that made her breath catch.

She didn't recognize the song at all, but the sentiment moved her to grip the sink and love him. Painfully.

I close my eyes and I can see
The world that's waiting up for me
That I call my own
Through the dark, through the door
Through where no one's been before
But it feels like home

They can say, they can say it all sounds crazy
They can say, they can say I've lost my mind
I don't care, I don't care, so call me crazy
We can live in a world that we design

Claire looped a napkin around her thumb and leaned on the archway, watching him sing. Gigi was in her bouncy seat, sucking her thumb. Ben was on his lap with his head on his shoulder. The guitar was over the boy and the man together as he played.

Sherry was sitting on the floor beside his leg, leaning her head on his knee. Angry teen? No. She was a girl who'd become his daughter. She grinned at Claire and bobbled her brows. "He's good right?"

He was. So good. Being with him? It was just...good.

He must have felt her looking and glanced at her, winking.

She shifted into the room, moving over to perch on the arm of the couch beside them. Her hand slid against his shoulder and tightened. He leaned his face against her arm for a moment and stole her heart.

There's a house we can build
Every room inside is filled
With things from far away
The special things I compile
Each one there to make you smile
On a rainy day

Every night I lie in bed
The brightest colors fill my head
A million dreams are keeping me awake
A million dreams, a million dreams
I think of what the world could be
A vision of the one I see
A million dreams is all it's gonna take
A million dreams for the world we're gonna make

For the world we're gonna make

Ben joined him on the chorus and had her eyes tears up. The quiet slid around them as he finished before the boy murmured, "I like that song, Dad. You make that up?"

Of course not, Leon mused, it was from some musical a hundred years in the future. But they couldn't know that. But the truth was, it felt right to him. The dreams were this life he was living. It a million of them, made real from a guy who'd dreamed them and never had any hope of them happening.

And he was here, waiting, to wake up.

Keeping it light, he shrugged, "Sure. Good stuff?"

Claire said nothing, still gripping his shoulder. He glanced up at her and felt his stomach flip a little. Apparently, she thought it was good. She looked moved by it.

She dropped a kiss to his forehead and cleared her throat, rising, "Good. Yep. Dinner is ready."

They ate and talked about their day. It was all perfectly normal. It was all perfectly simple.

In their bedroom, she was so quiet. He kept hoping he hadn't made her mad. He knew he'd made wild love to her earlier. Maybe she hated his song?

But she turned to him and without saying a word, she handed him his guitar. He held it, watching her as she settled on the small settee by the window. She tilted her head at him and instructed, quietly, "Show me who you are."

He waited, watching her quietly. She nodded, looking at him earnestly. "I don't know who you are. I swear I don't. Not anymore. But I want to. I need to." She inhaled, sharply, and declared, "Show me who you are."

Nervous, he strummed the guitar. And gave her the only truth he knew.

I think about you every time
I take a breath and then
I let it go
I remember when you were mine
But you were just a dream
I used to hold

That voice, she thought wildly, she was in love with it. It had so much pain behind it, so much feeling. Where was the numb man she'd become some accustomed to?

I think about the way you used to say my name
And how it made me feel everything
Now am looking for anyway
To make it through one thing
The morning

He was hurting for her like she wasn't right here. But she got it. She did. She understood. They'd been dead to each other for so long. Was this the way back from that? To mourn the loss and find each other again. She'd nearly left him a few months before. They both knew it. She was pretty sure they'd stopped even seeing each other.

But he hadn't. This song said...he wasn't blind to her, he was blinded by her.

Now there's no sleep

Cause every star
Is lighting up,
Following these memories haunting
Knowing there's so much of you am still wanting
Here with me
I pray for the dark
Cause if it comes
Maybe some how I'll be alright
If I could just turn out the night

She covered her mouth with her hands and felt the shimmer of the pain that was their love. She was hoping, maybe, she had the cure for them. How did you heal a life time of pain?

If only I
Could just close my eyes
I'll finally be over you

He stopped, lifting his eyes to her. She shook her head, feeling the tears spill onto her cheeks as she shifted her hands and whispered, "I'll never get over you. Ever. I'm sorry about everything. All of it. The drifting...how we lost each other...where we ended up here...I'm so sorry. You have to forgive me, Leon."

Jesus Christ. It was all the words he'd wished she'd said in the world where he'd love a girl he'd never have.

It was all the right words - but this Claire? She wasn't to blame. Whatever Leon she'd loved, that guy wasn't worthy of her. This Claire was his dream girl. She didn't owe him any apologies.

He shifted toward her and she dropped her hands from her face to open her arms to him. He scooped her close and breathed her in.

"Claire...it was never you. It was me. It was always me. There's nothing to forgive."

And it was that simple.

There was nothing to forgive. Claire had never done anything that needed forgiving. He'd made the choice to stay behind. He'd made the choice to fight the world alone. He'd made the choice to leave himself without an escape hatch, a life, a love worth living for. She was innocent.

And he loved her too much to blame her anymore for his own failures.

He clutched her face and turned it up to him, "It's me who needs forgiving, Claire."

She shook her head, laughing lightly, "For what? Just keep singing, and I'll do anything you want."

They kissed, smooth and soft. It turned wet and needy. He tugged her shirt off to help himself to her breasts. She unhooked his belt and the zipper of his pants was loud in the room.

Her face shimmered when he drew back, like a fuzzy frame on a camera. It took a handful of seconds for him to focus on her. Over her left shoulder, Ada Wong was sitting on the dresser.

She winked, shrugging a little. He was suddenly in his bedroom with Claire's mouth on his dick and Ada Wong watching them like a voyeur.

Claire swallowed him down as Ada purred, "She can't see me, handsome. Just you. You put me here for a reason? Maybe you wanted me to be your cuck, huh? You like to have a girl watch anyway. We both know that. Remember in Rio? You fucked that model on the balcony while the other one fingered herself watching you. Good times huh? This is a little more domestic than that though?"

Claire hummed around his dick and his hands shot into her hair, gripping. His body tightened with pleasure but he couldn't answer. Claire would think he was nuts if she found him talking to a ghost.

Ada tilted her head, "She's good. Listen to her? She's like a pro."

Claire curled her tongue, his knees tried to spill him forward, and his mouth opened on a sharp breath. Ada twinkled happily, musing., "You gonna cum? Don't waste it. You want her to get pregnant right? So you can pretend this isn't a dream? It's not real, Leon. You can't keep it. Stop trying to make it your life. It's not yours. She's not yours. This? It's a glimpse."

Claire let go of his dick. It made a sucking sound as she did. She dragged him down and pushed him to his back on the floor. He couldn't stop her, didn't want to, as she mounted him there and her t-shirt cocooned around her torso as she straddled him and rode his body.

Ada appeared above her, taunting him, "Feel good? It's not real. She's not real. She's not yours. This life isn't yours."

Leon's hands shot up to grip into Claire's sweaty hair. He dragged her down to tongue her mouth. She moaned, her body sucked him in, she clenched and quivered. They kissed until her mouth was rosy and red. He grunted, "...mine."

And her face flushed as she gasped, "...ditto. Don't forget it."

But she wasn't. She wasn't.

He ground her hips to hold her. He surged. She gasped and held him down with her hands fisted in his shirt. He came in her while she swirled him inside her.

And she was.

She was his. She had to be. Even if it was just a handful of moments. She had to be his. He didn't know if he could stand it if she wasn't.

Ada shook her head, watching him. "You're losing focus. Don't forget why you're here."

She shimmered and was gone. Claire gasped, falling atop him as she orgasmed. Her body jerked and sucked his until he thought they'd both die. Sweaty, she slumped on him.

He clutched her body, feeling himself soften inside of her.

Jesus. If she wasn't real, what was?

Above him, she breathed, "...Leon...?"

He kissed her slick forehead, panting like he'd run ten miles. "...yeah?"

She laid her cheek over his racing heart and whispered, "...I'm pregnant."

Real.

That's what was real. He wasn't pregnant. He wasn't. That wasn't possible. But this was. There was a pregnancy alright but it was with the RIGHT Redfield this time.

He'd gotten Claire pregnant. He wasn't fixed. He was still him. He was about to have a baby. If he was here long enough to see it. How did he keep them? How did he stay?

He didn't know how he'd survive it if he didn't.

It was just a baby. A gift. A simple thing.

A beautiful moment. It was all balanced on a blade of a knife.

He'd never been more afraid.