The Girl on the Train
Part Seven:
Girl in the Tower
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
Claire breathed, "And now that you know…what now?"
He was so afraid. So terribly afraid. If he did it, if he kissed her, if he fell into her…what would it mean? Everything? Nothing? Would it mean the end? Or the beginning? Or the beginning of the end? What would he do without her? What would he do if he lost her?
But he'd waited too long.
He watched her shut down.
Desperately, terrified, he dropped his mouth to kiss her. She froze, lost, afraid. And then she kissed him back.
It was nearly drowning. He grappled to hold on to her and she tried to pull him closer. She kissed him like she'd never stop. And he was so afraid of what it meant. What it would mean. This couldn't be just a thing that happened with them. It would never be that. It would mean everything and nothing.
Everything she'd said…everything he'd heard. And felt. And done. Of course he'd always wanted her. Of course he had. But how did he tell her everything? How did he tell her all of it? It was more than Ada and so much more complicated.
She was the only woman he'd ever known.
Claire deserved babies and marriage and moonlit walks in the woods. There was no way this would ever be enough for her. Would it be enough for him? Could he hold her, fill her, be inside her and not love her? He loved her now. Had always loved her. But IN love with her? The thought terrified him.
He was out of time to decide. She pushed her hands into his sleeping pants and grabbed his ass. He was pretty sure his brain was going to shoot straight out of his dick. They were, apparently, trying to suck each other's faces off when they kissed.
She liked the beard as it scratched at her skin. She wanted to feel him against her. She jerked her long sleeved shirt over her head and tossed it away. Clad in just her bra, she jerked him back against her. They both made some sound at the first real touch of bare skin together. A decade of denying that one night together had left them both desperate.
Yeah, he thought, that's what he knew she'd feel like. She was silky. Her skin was cream and a dash of rose. She had freckles on her shoulders and a fine dusting of them across her bosom. She tasted like summer and looked like a damn masterpiece painting. And her mouth kissed like a pro.
He needed to stop. He had to. Because she needed to know everything and have it all out there before they did this.
His hand were touching her and he hadn't even realized it. He was touching her stomach and back and her breasts. He was playing with her breasts over her damn bra. His body was a traitor. But it had an excuse. It hadn't had a release in a really…really…really…long time.
She made some sound of frustration and put her mouth to his throat. She was chewing on him, licking and nibbling, her tongue was swirling in the hollow his throat. Now was a good time to mention that he hadn't done this in so long that he was afraid he'd suck at it. Right? It was a good time.
She grabbed his face and kissed him again, encouraging him. She wanted to feel what his body would do to her bare and finally hot against her. Claire leaned back to look at his face. He looked…something. Unsure? He kinda looked afraid.
That was ok. She was nervous too. She laughed a little and slid her hand inside of his pants. Her nails scraped so close to his throbbing dick he was pretty sure he'd die on the spot. He caught her around the waist with his good arm and lifted her. He sat her on the kitchen table and stepped between her denim clad legs. He put his face down and buried it in her cleavage. It was the perfect place to smother himself. She had lovely, perky, soft breasts that said "You should have a taste of us."
Claire made a desperate sound and shifted her hands to unlatch the bra in front. He caught her hands and held them, breathing fast and hard. If she did that and he had access to all of her like that. He didn't think he'd be able to stop. He'd start feasting on her and he wouldn't stop until they were both dead.
He had to tell her now. He opened his mouth to confess, and she said, "It's ok. I love you. I want you. You know that. I love you."
I love you.
He froze, terrified. And, for the first time, he heard the I LOVE YOU she was actually saying. I love you.
"...give me a second here, Claire. Christ. We know where this ends, right? It's been...I just...need a breath here..." And he trembled. He trembled like he was nervous or scared or...pent up.
And she got it. Just like that. She understood. And was confused. And was so ungodly turned on. Surely not. He could not possibly untouched at this point. That was ridiculous. But he hadn't said a word...all the lovers she'd thrown at him...and he hadn't said a word.
She finally saw what truth was in front of her: She was the only woman he'd ever touched.
"Leon…" she breathed it, more in love with him then she'd ever been. It would be so perfect. To love him and be the only one for him and the first time for her with someone she loved that was good for her. It was wonderful and humbling and amazing.
"I'm in love with you. I'm so in love with you. I've waited for you too in a way. This is good. I'm ready. I will…be easy and gentle…and we'll just…we'll just love each other." She put her mouth against his chest, kissing. Her teeth nipped at one nipple, drawing his breath in a gasp of pleasure. She kissed down his stomach, licking at him. She nipped across the waistband of his sleeping pants. Drowning, he watched her nip at the pulsing bulge of him through his pants. Good god. He was going to go in his pants like some fifteen year old boy.
She rose, all sexy smiles and desire. "I love you, Leon. I've always loved you. Oh god I can't wait for you anymore." She slid her hand into his pants and he caught her hand.
Her cheeks were pink and blushing. She was so beautiful. She was so perfect. And her love terrified him. It scared him to death. He didn't want that. Didn't want it. He wanted her, yes, he wanted to fall into her and love her and fuck her until they both died from it. And it scared him like no monster he'd ever faced before could.
And so, because he was a coward, he said, "I'm not…I'm not in love with you, Claire. I'm not. Not like that. I can't use you like this. It's too late for us."
She watched his face, frozen. He drew her hand and gave it back to her.
He watched her face and died. Because he saw the moment he killed her. He saw the moment it struck and bled and destroyed her. But it was better. Had to be. This way…he hurt her first and she couldn't hurt him. Right?
But it was a double edged sword after all. He killed her and killed himself too. Because he did love her. Had always loved her. And lying about it nearly killed him.
And hurting her did kill him. It killed some part of him that had always known or wondered or wanted her to be the one for him. It wasn't Ada that held him back. Not really. It was him. Loving her would kill him. It would expose him for the fraud that he was. She would see the emptiness in him. And the anger. And the fear. And the naïve hope. And she would have the power to kill him with it.
She he killed her first.
Claire slid off the table. She picked up her shirt from the floor.
"I should go."
"Claire…" He grabbed her arm and she looked at him. She just looked at him until he let go.
"…you could have lied I guess. You could have fucked me and lied. You didn't. I can appreciate that."
"Don't. I'm not some fucking gentleman. Don't do that." His voice caught, shaming him.
"I have to go now. I'm sorry. I just…I have to go."
"Claire…what can I do? How do I make this right?"
"This isn't your fault. It's mine. I know it's mine. You've never done…it's me. I'll be ok. Guys…they don't last long when they love me right? So it's better that you don't. It's better."
She all but ran out of his house.
He'd done it. He'd avoided falling in love with her. He'd killed that shit before it got out of hand. They were better for it.
They were better for it.
The lie chased him around the kitchen and offered him no solace as he tumbled into bed.
Rome, 2017
Claire was in Rome for a meeting with the BSAA European branch. She knew he was headed to Vito De Mare for work. She had bits and pieces of information regarding what he was up to. Chris and Jill were tagging along. It had to do with apprehending Gomez.
She had been surprised that he called.
They hadn't ended things well the last time she'd seen him. She'd fled, broken and sad and wounded. She'd limped off to lick her wounds alone in her loft in New York. She'd come up for air three weeks later.
She wasn't mad at him. Had never been mad at him. His honesty had been good. It had allowed her to start to heal and close the door on him. It was the right thing to do. She would work toward getting over him now. He didn't love her.
He didn't love her.
It would be ok.
He stepped out of the café and turned toward her. He was dressed in a red collared shirt and black slacks. His black shoulder holster looked amazing against all that red. He had on aviator glasses with reflective silver lenses. It would be ok.
Liar.
She died looking at him.
They didn't run to each other and hug.
It was the first time ever that they didn't. They were both aware of the awkwardness when they approached in the street. He offered her the pretty white oleander that he held in his hand. She took it, smiling at him.
"Charmer."
"I have my moments."
She looked beautiful. As always. She was in a yellow lacy dress with a petty black bolero jacket over it. She had ice pick heels in silver that laced up her perfect calves and stopped at her knees. Her hair was curly and caught the sunlight like rubies.
"You look beautiful. Kate Spade?"
His knowledge of fashion was adorable. She smiled a little. "Yep." She touched his shirt sleeve, "Armani?"
"What else?" She could see the hesitance in his face. She hated this awkwardness between them.
"How have you been?"
He shrugged a little, "Good actually. Pretty good. You?"
"Fine." She sniffed the oleander, "I'm surprised you called."
"Yeah," He went with his gut and said, "I missed you."
She closed her eyes. And the pain on her face nearly killed him where he stood. What regrets would always be inside him for her? Too many.
"I missed you too." She said it casually and tried smiling with humor. There was no bitterness in her, just sadness. It made it worse somehow, "How was Canada?"
"Cold."
"I'm sure you loved that."
"I did, yeah. You would have died, Claire. The minke whales, the orca…we took a tour to watch them once the mission was done. You should have seen it. Amazing."
"You went whale watching with your team?"
"No. With Rebecca," He smiled a little, "She'd never seen a whale up close before. She squealed like a little girl."
And there it was.
On his face. There it was. There was the look she'd been afraid of. Rebecca. He said her name like it was a prayer or something. He smiled. He...glowed.
"Rebecca?"
"Yeah. Chambers? Rebecca Chambers."
Rebecca.
His face said there was more to Rebecca than whale watching. His face said there was more to all of it then that. Her belly hurt as she said, "You did more than watch whales."
And there it was again. That look. What was that? But she knew, of course she knew, it was guilt. He glanced down at her and there was guilt. Yeah. There was more to Rebecca.
"Oh." She put her hand to her belly now, "Oh. I see."
"Claire.."
She shook her head and stepped away from him into the shadow of a building. She leaned back on the wall. She breathed a little. "So I wasn't good enough. But Rebecca Chambers was. She gets in under the wire right? How long did you wait to fuck her? She showed up at your place like a few days after I left right? You fuck her right away?"
Oh yeah he did. His face said everything.
"So me…me who's stood by and let you squish me all these years. Who's loved and cared for you…I wasn't good enough for you. But she was? Was it good? I bet it was good."
The pain chased over his face and fired with anger, "It's not like that. It wasn't about you."
That was the wrong thing to say. It was. He knew it the second he said it but Claire responded, "Wasn't it? She's so simple, Rebecca. Calm. Easy going. Not like me right? The girl on the train...the girl with all the demons weighing her down. Too complicated for you. Jesus, we're a joke. All these years. All the lying to each other. We've done nothing but hurt each other. What a joke we are."
He thrummed with anger, "No one's laughing."
Claire moved away from the wall. "You got that right. I can't do this with you anymore."
"Claire!" He grabbed her arm and held her still. "Don't. I never lied to you. I never meant to hurt you. Don't do this. I love you."
"Stop it."
"I do! I love you. You're the only person in the world I can say that to."
She met his eyes. "You waited what? Two days? I've always loved you. Always. And you just gave your heart away to the first uncomplicated girl that stuck her hand in your pants. Is that it?"
His face was so pained. She nearly died from hurting him. But she was wounded. She was angry. She was mortal. It wasn't her way. She wasn't the girl that hurt him. She wasn't. But sometimes? She wasn't "Steely Claire." She wasn't a rock. She was't a safe place for him to land. She was just a fucking girl with her heartbroken. She just was.
"And what about now? What about now, Leon? You love her?"
And the truth of it echoed between them in silence.
"You son of a bitch. I deserve better than that."
"Claire, don't do this."
"It's done, Leon. You're right. Maybe I'm stupid. Maybe I'm the fool here. You coward. You jumped in the sack with someone who you knew wouldn't try to do anything but love you. I bet that feels good, doesn't it? She's a sweet girl, Rebecca. Simple and kind. You could do worse. I won't fucking toast you at your wedding. Nope. You don't deserve that. You coward. You chase one girl that you can't have and one that you'll never love. You think you'll love Rebecca? You can't love Rebecca. You can't love anyone. Not fully. Not completely. That takes risk. And you're a big hero…and a big coward." She shook his hand off, "You get what you want here. You get your simple girl. You get rid of the baggage from me. I won't keep chasing you. Unlike you, I know when enough is enough."
"That's not fair. It's not even right. I was there. I've been here. You never chased me, Claire. You never chased anyone. You just ran. You ran."
She shivered with hurt. "Did I? Or did you? Fuck, we're too messy for this. Too old. And it's too over. I love you so much, Leon. So much. And I hate what you've turned me into...some simpleton hungering for your love. Why didn't you, just once, beg me to stay?"
Shit. This is where they were. It was awful. So many years of pain, of want, of regret. He wasn't sure there was a way to heal it or forget it or forge ahead. But he tried, desperately, "Claire, you are my best friend. I need you." He said it so simply, so brokenly.
She shook her head, "No. I'm just the girl you kept waiting in the wings all these years because you were too much of a coward to try to have something real. She'll make you happy. She'll never push you for more. She'll never ask too much. You won't have to wonder if she'll hurt you. She's probably everything you could ever want. I wish you both happiness. I really, really do."
"Claire," He grabbed her hand and their tattoos touched, "Please. How do I fix it? How? I can't go back and change it. I panicked. I freaked out. But you ran too, god damnit, you ran. Help me fix it. Prove me wrong...don't run."
Her heart hurt looking at them. So many mistakes they'd made. How did they heal it? They couldn't. Like Umbrella, it was finished, but the legacy of that pain would live on.
Some people just weren't meant to be.
"We can't. It's broken. It's not right with us, Leon. Just deal with that and move on. That's what you do when someone you love hurts you. You fucking move on. Go bury yourself between her thighs and forget about it. I'm sure you've done it before. Don't you worry about me. I have a way of getting over the men who try to break me. That's what strong people do. We deal with it. And we don't hide our heads in the sand and cry. Don't call me. I mean it. We're done here."
He shook his head, denying. His hand grabbed hers and flipped it to show their matching tattoos. "Who's the coward now? Don't give up, Claire. Please. How can you be done?"
"Because I'm done. I'm just done. I have to be done. I'm sorry. I am. But I need space to breathe."
"How much?"
"I don't know. But I don't want to fight anymore."
She raced out into the street and away.
He watched her go and he was pretty sure he'd fall apart if he took a step. He was pretty sure he'd shatter like glass and fall apart. So, he leaned on the wall and he just bled inside.
Hoffnung, Germany - 2017
He burst into the tower at a full run. The stairs curled in circles up to the very top. The staircase was narrow, claustrophobic and dark. He drove a kick when they came around the corners to fight him. He put a bullet in a knee and jerked, throwing them behind him. When the stairs narrowed, he pulled the sword and kept going.
He spitted two together on the blade and ripped the blade clean, kicking them back as they fell in a burst of blood. Where there were faces, he lunged. Where there bodies, he struck. He reached the top of the stairs, panting, covered in blood.
The roof of the tower was a large circle and high enough in the sky that the wind was a desperate, shoving thing. Lightning snaked across the sky, the perfect backdrop to what was waiting there. The first spatter of rain hit his face as he moved, slowly.
"Drop it please."
Ada held Rebecca against her, the gun to her temple. She was frightened but unharmed. She was softer, fuller, more beautiful than he'd been able to remember. The sight of her nearly broke him at the same time it empowered him.
He tossed aside the sword and it clattered across the rooftop.
"The gun too."
He jerked it clean and tossed it.
It didn't matter. It wasn't about weapons now. Not anymore. The thunder rumbled and the wind kicked up more rain. Down below, the sounds of fighting rose to echo on the wind.
"You didn't come alone."
Leon shook his head. "Not this time."
"It doesn't matter. I've done all I can for you. This is how it has to end."
"Yeah…this is how it has to end." He held his hands out, palms open, "Let her go, Ada. Just once, do the right thing here."
The rain converted to a steady pouring. Lightning split the sky and flashed, bright and close. Down below, gun fire peppered the air like fireworks.
Ada said, "For what it's worth, I wanted to love you. It seems some of us just aren't capable of that."
"That and a buck fifty might just be enough to get me on the subway. But otherwise, it doesn't matter a great deal. Let her go, Ada. Now."
"I've done what I can to repay some past mistakes. I let the game get ahold of me and made a few missteps. But I never intended to lose. Somehow I'm standing here the loser."
"So, make it right. Let Rebecca go."
Ada sighed, centering herself.
"Rebecca?" He called to her but kept his gaze on Ada, "You ok?"
"Yes. I'm not hurt. They told me you were dead. They told me you were gone. I knew they lied. I played it safe and close to the vest. I knew you would come."
He laughed a little and touched the cross on his chest. "Thanks to this."
"No. That's a symbol. The strength has always been in you."
Ada shoved Rebecca away from her, just like that. Rebecca ran toward him. He caught her, one armed, against his body and put her behind him. He wanted to hold her until he fell apart from it but he put her behind him.
And he faced the bitch in red.
Rebecca said, softly, "I have so many things to tell you."
"Me too."
Ada moved to the edge of the roof. "I have to go get Albert. This isn't where his story ends. But ours? I think ours ends today, Leon. Not how I wanted it to. But sometimes, we just have to take the ending we get."
"Ada! Don't!"
He started for the gun and she shot him. Just like that. She drilled him. The bullet drilled him in the chest plate and put him on his ass. He skidded backward from the impact. He felt like he'd been drop kicked by a buffalo.
"Stay down, Leon! The next one goes in your head!"
"You first, you bitch!"
He turned his head and saw Rebecca there, aiming his pistol at Ada. Thunder rumbled, crashing loud and infuriating. Lightning flashed, too close. He could all but hear it sizzle.
He rose to one knee.
Rebecca stood between him and Ada.
Ada tilted her head, studying her. "Little mouse. Don't be a fool. Think about what you're risking."
"Sometimes you have to risk everything."
"If you kill me, he'll still have been mine first. You can't erase me with a bullet."
"No but I can kill you with one. You don't get to run away this time. Not this time. It's time to face the music, Ada. Your dance is over."
Down below the fighting had gone silent. The good guys were dead or they were coming. And time was up.
"Stupid little fool. You die for nothing." Ada pulled the trigger. Two guns went off simultaneously in a flash of lightning. Thunder echoed the boom of it.
Ada Wong was clutching her throat. Blood pumped between her fingers as she staggered back. Shock was written all over her beautiful face even as she slipped and tumbled back into the darkness.
Leon rose and hurried to Rebecca. He couldn't believe that she'd done it. He grabbed her arm to turn her.
She turned and the gun slipped from her fingers. It bounced onto the stone beneath her with a clatter of metal. She grabbed at the hole in her chest.
"No…" He wasn't aware that he'd shouted it. He caught her as she fell forward and laid her on the roof. His gloved hands slapped over hers, putting pressure over the gushing wound. "No."
He said it again as if it would matter. The wound didn't seep, it poured. It gushed between his blocking fingers. He didn't realize he was saying no over and over again. He kept trying to stop the bleeding.
She grabbed his wrists and held him. "Leon…" The blood spilled from her mouth. "Stop. Stop it! Look at me, please, hurry."
"Hold on, ok? Just…" He glanced desperately at the sky for the chopper, "Where the fuck is the back up!?"
"They won't make it. Leon, they won't make it." Her voice whispered, "Please."
"Shh. Stop talking. Save your strength."
The good guys were on the roof now and running toward them. Jill shouted, "NO!" Chris slid to his knees beside her and jerked his shirt off. Leon stuffed it against he wound and leaned on it, hard. Rebecca coughed, pale now and cold. "Please…Leon…so much to tell you…"
"There's time! Hold on!"
The chopper was close now and getting closer.
"Leon…I love you."
"Stop! Please!" His face was desperate, lost, and broken, "Just hold on for me."
"You came…I knew you'd come. I need you to…have….faith."
"Don't…please. Don't. Rebecca."
But she was silent now and the air slipped once more, wet and weak, from her lungs. The chopper was right above them now. "Rebecca?" Her name was soft, a whisper.
The blood wasn't gushing now. He pulled her into him and sat up, holding her in his lap like a child. He rocked, making some sound that was so much worse than crying. It was the sound of grief that penetrates fast and hard. It was the sound of failure. It was the sound the soul makes as it breaks and scatters uselessly in the pouring rain.
Chris rose and turned away. Kevin turned away. Men, Jill thought desperately, supposed to be the strongest creatures on earth. But they couldn't stand in the face of Leon Kennedy's grief.
"Leon…"
Leon shook his head.
Jill knelt beside him. She touched his face. He turned his eyes to her. "Let go now. Leon? Let go."
He shook his head again.
"She's gone, Leon. Let me take her now. Let me take her."
His eyes turned down to her. Boneless, she lay in his arms. Her face was pressed against his chest and the cross that lay there. He started to shake, uncontrollably, like he had hypothermia. He kissed her and her mouth was cold.
The grief sank its teeth so hard into his throat he was pretty sure it would rip him open and spill his blood with hers all over the rooftop. Jill, feeling useless and lost, touched his arm and waited. He made a sound like a wounded animal and started weeping.
She'd thought there would be nothing worse than watching him fight his way back from the hammered mess he'd been. She was wrong. This…this was the most horrible thing she'd ever seen. His loss was so deep, so raw, and so wide that it drew blood where it cut, forcing you into his mourning with you.
A few long moments passed and the silence rose to surround them. There was nothing now but the pouring rain and the whir of the helicopter blades. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The rain washed the blood away in a pink river.
Chris turned back and crouched down. He grabbed Leon's forearm. The other man shifted his grip on Rebecca and grabbed him back. Their hands locked just at each other's elbows and held, hard. It was a boy hug when Leon needed a boy hug.
"Let me take her."
He opened his eyes. Two sets of blue. Two sets of grief.
Leon nodded and he let her go. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done. He let her go.
Chris lifted her, easily, bonelessly. He held her against him like she was precious and small. And she was. This tiny little girl who'd stood in front of him and protected him. He felt the loss in his bones, in his blood.
Leon shifted to his knees on the rooftop. His hands were still filled with her blood. Her blood was on his hands. He made some sound and Jill slid between his hands and put her arms around him. He wrapped his arms around her and wept. He cried like he'd leave pieces of himself on the rooftop around them. He cried with his whole body, his whole being.
He ground his head at her neck and shoulder and she held him so tight she was pretty sure they'd both bruise from it. But she'd stay there, kneeling with him forever, if that's what it took. The rain eased back, a soft misty drizzle now against them.
Finally, he let her go. She eased back, looking at his face. "Are you ready?"
Was he? No.
But he got up anyway.
He got up.
Because Rebecca wouldn't have it any other way. So, he got up.
He looked at her, watching him in the rain. "Wesker?"
She shook her head, slowly. "One of those big fat Ganado grabbed him. We lost him in the fray. Ada?"
Leon stared off into the rolling clouds, breathing. He was breathing, so that meant he was alive. But he felt dead. He felt dead. Empty. "Rebecca shot her in the throat. She fell over."
"We'll have someone get her body."
He didn't care.
He shook his head and moved to the edge of the roof. He looked down. And he knew what he'd see when he did. He knew.
She wasn't there.
She wasn't splattered on the ground beneath them.
She wasn't dead.
And Rebecca had died for nothing.