The Girl on the Train

Part Six:

A Place for Us

A fonte puro pura defluit aqua

"Because what's worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?"

― James Patterson

Silver Lake, Montana 2017

She was waiting on his porch when the sedan rolled to the curb and he climbed out of it. His arm was in a sling, his face was bruised. His black motorcycle jacket was filthy. He had blood splattered all over him.

He'd saved the girl, they said. And he'd saved her brother.

He was always saving people.

His progression to the darkness had been ugly and fast. She'd found him drunk in more bars then she could count. She'd poured him in bed, dealt with his self hatred, his belligerent attitude, his steady spiral into depression. She'd found him on the floor once in his kitchen in a pool of blood. He'd cut himself on a highball glass when he'd drank so much he'd literally fell down and smashed his own glass beneath him.

She'd helped him up, bound his wounds, and gotten him into bed once more. He'd told her to leave him the fuck alone. That she was "wasting herself" on him. She'd slapped his hung over face, called him a bastard, and pushed him into the shower to wash away the stench of scotch.

After the fake Ada Wong had gotten all his men killed, her brother had fallen into a hole as deep and dark as it was wide. She'd helped him climb out. He'd done that first after Kijuju with the PTSD he'd suffered badly. What was it with these men and their inability to come back from their own darkness?

She muttered, "Men." And pushed up her sleeves to drag Leon Kennedy back from his own self destruction as well.

He moved across the soft grass toward her and she came down the steps to meet him.

The dark sedan pulled away, leaving them in the quiet.

"Thank you. I know it was hard for you to do what you did."

He looked down at her, watching her face. He shrugged his own good shoulder. "It's what I do right? Big hero." And it sounded so angry, so bitter.

His hair was ink dark now, a reflection of what he felt inside. D.C. had cost him something ugly. He'd gone down into the morgue and put bullets in all the men he'd lost. Helena Harper had lived but she was unlikely to ever walk again.

And Leon had survived, again.

That survivors guilt plagued him like poison.

Claire grabbed his jacket and jerked on him a little. He grunted with the pain of his set shoulder. "Easy, Claire. Damn."

"Big idiot. Stop trying to get yourself killed."

"What the fuck are you talking about? I saved your brother. I saved the day! That's what I DO!"

"They said you came out of the fucking elevator on a motorcycle like some kind of lone ranger. You and that damn gun! You think you're John Wick?!"

"I kinda was, yeah. I did do some pretty stellar gun fu."

"This gun…it's the only thing you love!"

She took his Desert Eagle and ripped it from his thigh holster. She tossed it away to skid across the grass.

"Hey! Don't blame the gun! It saved your BROTHER! Or did you forget!?"

"I didn't forget! Did you? You promised no more trying to die on me!"

"I did NOT promise that!" He was relatively sure of that. "I promised to try. They came sniffing me out! What was I going to do? Not help?! Chris would be DEAD now!"

"My brother has a way of surviving. Sorta like you. You joined him on a personal vendetta against that idiot Arias. He and Cathy…they were…"

Leon blinked at her, "Oh…oh. I get it now."

"Yeah, you big idiot. I get why he did it. What about you? What was your reason?"

"Your brother can't do dick without my helping him. That's why. They asked. I had nothing better to do as it was all reruns on my favorite shows. The Walking Dead is on hiatus…I figured…what the fuck? Why not!?"

"You joke?" She pushed him, he made a sound of pain.

"Don't push me, Claire! I mean it!"

"Or what!? You fool. You thought you'd die out there didn't you? You ran up on that roof trying to die!"

He said nothing. She waited. He said nothing. He literally said nothing. And she knew it was true. He was trying to commit suicide by bravery. Maybe if he died, he could what? Make up for those that had gone before him? It was just the sort of stupid logic the men in her life used when they wanted to do something selfless and stupid. STUPID.

"….fool."

"You already said that."

"What happens to me if you die!?"

He shrugged a little. "You find some other charity case to waste your time nursing back to health. You'll get over it."

She slapped him, hard.

It rang like a shot between them.

"You selfish little asshole. You bastard. All the bars, all the floors, all the places in the worlds I've cleaned you up from lately. All the messes I've cleaned up for you. And this is what I get? This?!"

Leon shrugged and there was the hard edge of pain on his face that made a liar out of him. "Your choice. Nobody asked you to."

Claire stared at him, he stared back. She shook her head, slowly. "You're going to burn every bridge you've ever had. You're going to alienate anyone who cares about you. You're going to pull your self hatred, all your rage, all that grief around you and me and everyone until we all choke. Is that what you want?"

"Better then feeling like this. Why not? The bottle doesn't nag me to death about anything. It just makes me numb."

"And what about me? What do I do with that?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want, I'm going to bed." He passed by her.

She stood there, stricken, in the sunlight. She turned and followed him back into the house. He was pouring three fingers of scotch into a highball glass. It was 8 a.m.

She slapped the glass out of his hand. It hit the floor and shattered with a tinkle of breaking glass. He lifted a brow at her.

"That was a waste."

"You're a waste." She took the scotch and uncapped it, turning it over the sink.

"What the fuck, Claire! That's a six hundred dollar bottle of scotch!"

"Sue me," He grabbed it from her and they wrestled. She pushed him….in his bad arm. He recoiled, hissing. He called her several dirty names.

"Oh please. I grew up with a brother in the military, honey. Sticks and stones."

"Go away, Claire. I don't want you here."

"Did I ask?"

She moved toward him. Her hands found the zipper of his jacket. She jerked it down. The shirt inside was navy, v-neck, and pettably soft. She lifted her hands to ease the sling off his bad arm.

He hissed, "For fuck's sake I don't need a nursemaid."

"Shut up, you idiot." She eased the jacket off his arms. The navy t-shirt clung in all the right places. A drunken fucking nightmare or not, he hadn't been neglecting his body. He was even bigger than the last time she'd seen him. He'd been channel his rage, it seemed, into lifting weights.

The lithe physique was showing signs of being heavy with muscle in the chest and shoulders. "You trying to get ready to fight my brother?"

"You see your brother lately? Dude's been slacking on the weight lifting. Before he headed down to Lousiana, he didn't even look like himself anymore."(...*cough)

"Wesker is dead. He can afford the break. What's your excuse?"

"Picking up heavy shit beats the hell out of sleeping."

"How so?"

"There are no nightmares when I'm awake."

Claire blinked at him, hurt for him, and wanted to comfort him. He was so lost. He was so sad. He was so broken. How did she fix him? Could she?

"Tell me the truth. Why did you go? You could have given them the answers and stayed home. But you went. Why?"

He watched her face and shrugged. It brought a gasp of pain from his mouth. "Rebecca has a way of making you feel about five years old and about three feet tall. It was guilt at first. And finally, it was clarity. Nothing makes me feel clearer than the fight, Claire. That part is still true."

"I get that. I do. But you are one fucking guy. ONE. What did you think you'd do on the rooftop? Ride your motorcycle at that monster and square dance?"

He felt his mouth twitch into a smile. "There's an image."

"Stop laughing, damnit."

He snorted. "I didn't think that far ahead. I just did it. And it's good I did. That thing had your brother like it was going to open him up and see what he was made of. I stopped it. He got the cure. And it's all ok now."

"The two of you…neither of you ever think beyond yourself. Did you think, either of you, what I'd do if I lost you both!? Both of you?! How would I come back from that?"

He hadn't. Neither of them had. It was the first time he realized that it wasn't just Rebecca that had a way of making him feel about three feet tall.

"No. No we didn't."

"I won't bury you, you asshole. But if you keep trying to die on me, I will kick your ass." She glared him to death for emphasis.

"Claire…this is all I know how to do. I can't stop being me."

"No," She rubbed her hands across his chest, petting him, "But you can stop being stupid."

"I can try. No promises. Why are you so good to me?"

She lifted her head, met his eyes, and held them. "I love you. How do you not know that?"

"I know it." He was very quiet now. And very aware of something different here. It was sharp, like an ice pick. "I love you too, Claire be—"

"Don't. Please. I can't hear it today. I can't hear it. You big idiot." She turned away from him and went to the sink to rinse down the scotch and pour him a glass of water.

"It shouldn't make you sad to hear it, Claire."

Claire turned back and met his eyes, "Doesn't it make you sad to hear it? You reject any one who even tries to get close to you. Why?"

He turned away and she noted that his jeans did wonderful things for his ass. The cowboy boots worn under the jeans added just the right edge to an already ridiculously wonderful picture. She followed him into the bedroom.

He was turning the lid on his flask to take a drink.

Claire stomped toward him and ripped it from his hands.

He looked at her from beneath his hair. The look on his face should have killed her where she stood. "You're trying my patience."

"Good! I don't have any left for you anyway." She took a swig from the flask and shuddered. Nasty stuff. But it spread warmth in her belly when it got there. That was the power of booze. Liquid courage.

"Go home, Claire. The day is saved. Everyone is fine. Just let me have my peace."

He sat down on the edge of his bed and speared his hand through his hair. The shift made his sore shoulder hurt. "Give me my flask."

"No."

"God damnit, Claire!" He shouted it now, rising to his feet. He actually took a step toward her. She tilted her head, watching him, "I swear to god…"

"What? Going to hurt me? Really!? For this!?" She held up the flask. "Come on. Come get it. I dare you."

He took another few steps toward her like he'd do it, like he'd take it. She palmed it and drove it hard into his stomach. He grunted, glanced up at her in surprise as he bent double, and she turned and left the room. She walked out onto the porch and kept going.

"Claire! Give it back!"

She ran to the edge of the tree line and chucked it, as hard as she could.

"What the FUCK!" He grabbed her and spun her to face him, "What part of LEAVE ME ALONE do you not understand?! Go away! Stay the fuck out of my business!"

"You ARE my business!"

"Why?! I'm not your brother, not your father, not your fucking boyfriend! I'm just some guy you hang around with sometimes, Claire. Do us both a favor and get out of here before I say something we'll both regret."

"….just some guy I hang around with? Really?"

He watched her, eyes narrowed in anger. She pushed on his chest and he stumbled back, hissing in pain. "BIG IDIOT! You think you can hurt me and I'll run away? Is that it? You stupid, stupid…stupid man."

Frustrated, he through his hands up and caused himself immense pain from it. He hissed, groaned, and cursed again. "Fine! Do whatever you want! I'm done here."

She found him half dressed and getting into his bed. He'd changed into a pair of sleeping pants in black and was turning down the covers. He kept wincing from the pain of it.

He saw her lingering in the doorway and sighed. "I'm too tired to fight any more. Ok? Just…not anymore."

She walked toward him and took his hand. Their tattoos pressed together: Keep Fighting. A drunken adventure that ended in a mantra they'd been sharing all their lives.

He shook his head, slowly. "That wasn't the purpose."

"No. But it gets the point across."

"Fine but not any more now. I can't. I need to sleep. Please."

She tugged him toward her. Her arms wounded around him and held on. He hesitated and then hugged her, tight and hard.

"You can't hurt me and make me go away, Leon. You know that."

He closed his eyes and laid his cheek on her head. "I don't deserve you."

And she knew…she knew he meant that. He meant it. He didn't think he deserved any one. He was so utterly, totally, and completely flawed. It was so sad to see such a strong man reduced to such emptiness and grief. He was rotting from the inside. How could she help him?

She lifted her head and looked at him. She lifted her hand and caught his chin, turning his face down to her. "I know you're lost. I feel it. I wish I knew how to help you, how to fix you. I wish I knew. Because you saved me that night in that tent in Harvardville. I was so lost. The guilt nearly killed me….but I looked at you. And you…gave me hope. You gave me strength. You gave me reason when the madness was murdering me. I want to do that for you."

He shook his head, gently, "I don't know if you can."

"Let me try," She rose on her toes and pressed her mouth to his, "Let me try."

"Claire…" Desperate and lost. Like she was, for him.

"Shhh. Let me try." She kissed him again. He was so very still against her. She wanted so very deeply, so very desperately, to show him. How could he ever understand if she didn't show him what he was? How would she function without him?

She said, softly, "I love you…don't say it back. Don't. I can't hear it right now. I love you. And not in a best friend way. I love you. And it's not friendly. And it is friendly. And it's mixed up in something. And it's mixed up in everything. You can't spiral away and die…you can't…I can't lose you…"

"Claire…" He tried again.

She shook her head. "No. I just need to get it out there. I have to. I just need to do it now. I can…I can step aside for another woman. I can't step aside for that. I can. I can't just stand here and watch you self destruct. I should have…I should have yes…in Harvardville? I should have said yes in that tent."

Surprised, flabbergasted, he said her name once more.

"Don't…because…because I think you're going to say something sweet and mushy and friendly and try to deflect me and I can't do that right now. And I just…I keep you with me in my heart…and you make it easier when life gets hard…" She laughed a little, "See? I'm a fucking Jason Mraz song. Lord."

Claire turned away to pace across the room, "But you just…you don't get it! You don't get it. You whisper and flirt. And I pick you up from the floor of some bar. And I die. I DIE! Because you don't get it! What you do, it hurts people who love you! It hurts. You can't keep hurting people who love you!"

Claire huffed out in frustration and ran her hands through her hair. "Eventually the people you hurt, they stop trying to fix you. But I can't do that. I love you. I LOVE YOU!"

She shouted it loud enough he jumped.

"And I don't even like fish tacos!"

His mouth smirked a little.

"DON'T YOU DARE LAUGH! You with your sexy little cooking and dancing and flirting. Harmless, Claire. It's harmless flirting. It's all harmless. But the touching isn't harmless, Leon. And we both knew it. Why didn't you follow me after Raccoon City?"

Surprised, he whispered, "What?"

"You could have followed...with Sherry. You could have come with me. But you stayed. And they got you. That's not my fault, Leon! IT'S YOURS!"

He jumped again when she shouted it at him, hurling it like a bullet. And he answered, "...that's not who I am, Claire. I don't run. You know that."

Claire huffed, pointing at him, "Because following a ladies lead just isn't your style." She did air quotes and the voice she used was mocking and very high pitched.

"Pretty sure I don't sound like that. You're just being mean."

"You DO sound like that! And you sing your little evil songs. You…just…"

"…evil is a bit harsh."

"Shut up! You stupid man. You blithering idiot."

"…I'm actually pretty articulate."

"You? Really? They call you the Executioner. They should call you the executioner of good dialogue! A pun is not a good joke!"

"Hey! PUNS ARE THE HIGHEST FORM OF HUMOR!"

"No! Idiot! They are the LOWEST!"

He was pretty sure that wasn't true. Was it? He was too enraptured with her tirade. "What are you saying here, Claire?"

"I love you! Moron!"

"I love you too! Bitch!"

Frustrated, she threw up her hands. "That's not what I mean. Damnit. You are…" She moved toward him. He watched her and wasn't sure he liked where she was going with this.

She shoved him, hard. His bad shoulder screamed in pain even as he spilled backward onto his bed. She climbed on top of him, straddling him.

"Wai—"

She didn't wait. She kissed him. And it wasn't gentle and it wasn't sweet and it wasn't nice. It was hungry. She kissed him like she'd die if she couldn't.

He tasted like survival and scotch and cigarettes. It should have been awful. But it was just short of intoxicating. He was so very still beneath her. She felt the first stab of fear in her belly.

She leaned up to look at him.

The look on his face was tortured...pained. She looked down at him and died a little inside. She slid off him.

"Claire..wait.."

"No…it's…no…it's fine."

"Claire…I need to tell you…it's more complicated than you think."

"You don't want me anymore…" Lord. The hurt was so broad, so fast and deep, that it stole her breath a little. He didn't want her. She'd waited…she'd waited too long and it was too late and it was done. Their timing had always been wrong and awkward and broken by other things. She wasn't a fool, she knew there was another woman mixed up in there somewhere, she could feel it when he was with her.

"Claire, don't leave like this. Please."

She spun back to face him. "What can you say, Leon? What is there left to say? Every man in my life that I've ever cared about, with the exception of my brother, has rejected, left, or betrayed me! Did you ever think about that? I have TERRIBLE TASTE IN MEN! Steve! Did I ever tell you about Steve?"

Angrily, she set about washing dishes in his kitchen. She had to do something with her hands or she'd start hitting him. "Steve was this boy on Rockfort Island. This male prisoner. Steve saved my life. He was a little…arrogant and sorta young and flirty. He was….he would have probably been something if he'd survived. But he died. He died a mutated monster and laid there in his own blood confessing his love for me!"

She shoved plates in his dishwasher.

"Claire…" His voice was soft, sympathetic, "Stop that. And come here. Let me explain."

"Wait! I'm not done." She started on the glasses, "So Steve dies in his own blood. And it nearly killed me. Why? I was kinda in love with him. Why not? He was kind and funny and stupid and cute. And he was devoted to me. He stared at my ass a lot which was flattering and probably sexist. But it was ok. But he was in love with me."

She glanced at Leon where he stood now, watching her. And what was that look on his face?

She hooted a little, "Oh! That bothers you? Good. Good. I'm not done yet."

Claire crammed silverware into the slots on the dishwasher. "So Steve dies. That's hard to get over. It's rough. I went to sit with Sherry while they poked and prodded at her. They told me you took the job offer they tossed at you to protect her from worse. Big hero."

She closed the dishwasher and set it to working. She turned to face him, lifting a cup of coffee to take a drink. "So I'm working with Terrasave now. Things are going pretty good. I had a boyfriend in the mean time, Kurt. Nice guy. Friendly. That might have been something but he was married. Yeah. Married. And so that fell apart."

She sat down at the table. Leon sat across from her now, watching her, just watching. She could see something on his face. She wasn't sure what it was. Regret? Anger? Who knew with him?

"Let's fast forward to Harvardville. I get there and meet Frederic. He's…charming. He's handsome and funny and sort of ironic in that British way that makes you think. And he's working for the company making the T-virus vaccine. He's also EVIL. EVIL EVIL EVIL. My best friend in the world and I, we make out right? We just make out like we want to jump each other's bones and get it on. It's awesome. I'm confused. My best friend doesn't just back off…nope. HE RUNS. Like the hounds of hell are chasing at his heels. So I think…best to leave that alone. I go back with Frederic to his office to get a nightcap."

She laughed a little watching his face. "By nightcap I mean sex. I wanted to have sex with him. Why not? I didn't know he was evil. He took my mind off you anyway. Which was something I needed. And, for the record, I did like him. Quite a lot."

There was no mistaking it now. That was jealousy on his face. And she liked.

"Naturally," He answered, sipping the coffee she'd poured him, "Because fucking in the middle of that mess makes perfect sense."

"Oh fuck you, Mr. Kennedy. You don't get to go judging me. You were "diving" while I was trying to survive. So don't pretend for a minute you're above it."

"God damnit, Claire. That's not a euphemism. It happened like that. Nothing else happened."

"Whatever. We're digressing," She sipped her coffee again and struck up one of his smokes, "So Frederic and I flirt. While I'm looking the other way, he goes nuts and tries to blow up the world. Just my luck, one more nut case in my life to deal with. But Leon Kennedy saves the day and everyone goes home happy. You and I come out of that better friends than ever."

She knocked the ashes from the cigarette into an ashtray on the table. "Leon Kennedy and I start taking yearly trips to the Chesapeake Bay. We laugh, we drink, we cook, we swim. He gets half naked and dances and rubs my face in the fact that I didn't make a move in Harvardville. We meet up again and fuck like starving things...after which he runs away. He makes it clear we're just friends. "

"…that is certainly revisionist history. Who did the running that night?" Now he sounded snide, which really pissed her off.

"Whatever. So I start dating my boss at work. Neil. Neil is charming. Neil is good in bed. He is smart and funny and witty and seems to really care about me. Neil takes me to Paris and asks me to marry him."

Leon jerked, like she'd slapped him. It hurt them both for her to say it. That surprised her. Why? Because she loved him. She always had.

"Oh yeah. He did. I didn't say yes. Not right away. I was still hoping you would come around. I didn't know if I loved Neil. But I figured I could eventually. But then HQ gets attacked and Moira and I end up in that hell hole…"

He moved to take her hand and she slid it away, sipping her coffee. The rejection hurt him almost as much as it hurt her. But she couldn't, not anymore. She had to put it all out there.

"So I see some…awful shit. I see how awful the Wesker project is. I see how awful it all is. I find out Neil is a double agent working for the formerly disgraced FBC director Lansdale. I find out he was using me for intel. So I was a fuck toy. I was his fuck toy. I kill Neil. And he dies begging for forgiveness." She ground the cigarette out, "He gets none. And will never get any. I keep making trips to the damn Chesapeake Bay to torture myself. Why not? Who gives a shit at this point?"

She rose and turned away to stare out over his deck. "I have a few lovers between then and now. But most of mistakes and have issues. There's the former director of Terrasave who was married, yeah I like married apparently, and Chris' buddy at the BSAA who thought he'd try to own me. That ended badly and Chris lost a good friend over it. There was a few nights with Jill's old buddy Carlos."

Again, Leon made a movement.

"Oh…you don't like him either huh? Well sorry. He's good in bed. So it was worth it." She turned back to him. "And here we are. My sordid past mistakes on full display. Why are we here? I have chased and cleaned up and fixed you over and over. Why are we here? Why didn't you ever chase me? I would have let you catch me."

He rose, slowly, he winced as his arm protested. "I don't deserve you."

"Leon…I swear to god..don't start this shit."

"Claire…" He tried to take her hand, she slapped him away. He clenched his hand into a fist, "In Raccoon City….I met-"

"You have GOT to be kidding me….her!? This…this is all about Ada Wong?" The pain of that chewed up her throat and nearly stole her breath. "All these years…you've been chasing Ada Wong?"

He stared at her, at a loss for words.

"….you big idiot."

"Not just Ada...it's more complicated than that."

"No…" Her voice broke, hurting them both. He looked like she'd punched him in the face. "Don't. You son of a bitch."

"Claire…" He sounded so shocked, so hurt. She shook her head.

"You stupid blind bastard. You dumb…man. Chasing some piece of ass that will never want you back. And too stupid to see what is RIGHT HERE. When I was picking you up off the floor of whatever bar you had drunk yourself blind in, where was Ada Wong?! When I was picking you up off the ground, bloody and broken, WHERE WAS ADA WONG!?"

He grabbed her hand now and wouldn't let her pull away. "Stop it, Claire! Stop it."

"You idiot! You fool! What is it going to take to make you see? What will it take to make you understand what you are doing to yourself? SHE WILL KILL YOU! Do you understand that, Leon? She will RUIN YOU! She will tear down everything you love and piss on the ashes! Do you care about that? Or is what is waiting between her perfect thighs worth destroying everything you care about in the whole world?"

He made some sound and jerked her forward. She fought him, struggling. He took a few hits to his injured arm and felt the world catch fire with pain. But he pinned her against the wall and forced her slapping hands to stop hitting him.

He put his face into the bend in her neck and shoulder and held her. She struck at his back until she was breathless and weak from it. And she finally slumped against him, breathing raggedly. He stopped pinning her to wrap his good arm around her and hold her.

"You bastard…" She whispered it. "All this time…you bastard…"

"...you were running too, Claire. You know you were. This isn't all on me."

"Would it have mattered? Would it? If I'd said something in Raccoon City…would it have mattered?"

He drew back to look at her. They held eyes. And he said, "...yes."

The truth hurt them both.

And it was her one great regret.