Uneasy Rendezvous

Author's Disclaimer: As much as I love WarCraft and Resident Evil with such a burning passion (Little creepy, eh?), I do not own the rights to either. Those belong solely to Blizzard Entertainment (Who sadly belong to Activision now : ) and Capcom.

Author's Note: I would like to extend a thank you to the people who have continued to read this story as it progresses, especially those who have taken the time to leave me their thoughts on it and leave me with their impressions. I'd like to say that I'm writing this just for myself and the gratification and practice that I obtain by writing fan fiction, but I am also writing this for those who wish to read it. Thank you, and Blessed Be 3

Leon's eyes opened wide and his body shot up as the wave of fire and debris flew towards him, only to be greeted now with an inky black abyss and the chill of the night air.

Leon turned around and gazed into the darkness, cold sweat clinging to his cheeks and forehead like morning dew as his azure eyes adjusted enough that he could see the distinct outlines of his chair, desk, and the familiar items that rested on its surface.

A brief sigh and chuckle escaped his dry lips as he fell back onto the bed and reached for his sheets. To his surprise, his blanket and sheets were lying on the ground in a heap.

Must have kicked them off during my nightmare, Leon reasoned as he climbed out of bed and picked up the sheets. As he tossed them back onto the mattress and began the process of making his bed, vague flashes of the dream pulsed before him in the briefest flashes. He always hated when his dreams came back to haunt his waking moments, especially when they were specters of nightmares. He often found it unfair that the dreams he remembered so clearly were of his own death or the deaths of those he knew and loved, yet if it was that dream where he walks in on a certain someone wearing nothing but stilettos and a smile, it would fade away just as he would awaken.

Sadly, uneasy dreams and nightmares were more common to him now than ever before. Ever since that mission four years ago, and the incident that happened the year after that, Leon's dreams seemed to become more and more violent and disturbing.

He wished that he could tell Claire about them, but he knew immediately how she would react, and what she would say:

"Leon… maybe it's the stress of the job…" or maybe even, "It sounds like you're getting a little overworked…", something to that effect. And no matter what, she would end it with, "Leon… I think you need to take some time off. Maybe a lot of time off."

Leon shook his head as he finished making his bed. There wasn't any way in hell that he would be taking any time off, especially now. He had come so close, and yet his failure, the fact that he handed the parasite to Ada Wong, plagued him with the wrath and fury of a demon. He knew it wouldn't leave him merely because he was getting stressed, and it would only increase its onslaught if he took any time off.

No. He vowed that he would scrub the T-Virus AND Las Plagas off the face of the earth, and he intended to do so. Even if it killed him.

As Leon looked at his finished bed, he realized that the fatigue and need to sleep had abandoned him completely. A sigh that hinted at the irony escaped his lips as he pulled up the chair and turned his nightstand light on.

The walls of Leon's room were festooned with images, maps, and pictures. Streaks of bloody ink surrounded locations of known T-Virus and parasite outbreaks, complete with miniature flash cards covered with statistics stapled next to them on the maps, while photos of former Umbrella employees and executives hung over their last known locations, with photos of the agents in charge of watching and researching them stapled adjacent to their prey.

Three quarters of Leon's walls were a shrine to the hunting of Umbrella operatives, researchers, and executives. Yet Leon's favorite wall was the fourth, covered with an array of photos of Claire, Chris, Jill, Barry, Rebecca, Billy, and himself at various activities. He took a moment to look at the wall of smiling faces that stared at him, inquiring if he remembered those days when they would take that necessary break from hunting evil corporations and zombies, and recalled every event.

As he sat and reminisced with the photos of the survivors at barbeques and amusement parks, he heard the creaking of a door and the shuffling of weary feet on the carpet in the hallway.

He knew immediately that Claire was up, probably for the same reason he was, and now partaking in her usual ritual of finding something to eat, sitting quietly on the patio whilst eating a sandwich, and then going to bed.

Leon and Claire had decided to move in together after the events in that airport, and thankfully had enough funds between them to buy a small yet nice house in the middle of Washington, D.C., where they had now been living in for close to two years now. She was still doing her part for that aide group she was working with, alongside maintaining her bike shop.

Leon wondered for a moment if he should either talk to his friend or leave her alone, for the grand total of one second. Without another though, Leon rose from his chair and walked out of his room.

Leon's room was on the far end of the house, right next to the kitchen. It was a duplex, so they were occupying the ground floor. Claire's room was at the other end of the hallway, just before the living room, with the bathroom serving as the buffer zone.

Predictably, Claire was in the process of making herself a sandwich when Leon stepped into the kitchen. Lettuce, wheat bread, mayonnaise, and the containers of American cheese, ham, turkey and pickles lay scattered along the counter as Claire was reaching into an open bag of sour cream and onion potato chips.

"Hey, Claire." Leon said softly, catching the young woman off guard.

Claire turned with a start, spilling a handful of chips on the floor in the process. Her red-tinted hair was out of its usual ponytail and draped across her beautiful, pale face, and her frame was covered in her usual pink flannel pajamas. Compared to Leon, who had gone to bed in his usual muscle shirt and basketball shorts, she looked more like someone who had just woken up.

A smirk formed on her lips as she bent down to pick up the chips. "Morning, Leon."

"Breakfast of champions?" Leon jested as he went over and picked out two slices of bread for himself. He may as well.

"I'll have you know that people in Mexico eat ham and cheese sandwiches for breakfast." Claire retorted as she gathered up the chips and tossed them into the trash bin before going to grab the broom and butler.

"Tis one of the reasons I'm glad I'm an American." Leon joked as he spread a liberal amount of mayonnaise on his bread.

"And yet here you are making a sandwich too?" Claire laughed as she swept up the crumbs and tossed them into the bin with their larger companions.

"Yes." Leon said and reached for the ham and cheese.

Claire giggled and put the broom and butler back in the corner. "So, what woke you up?"

"I had this wonderful dream where I was surrounded by thirty amazingly hot, topless blondes with D-size racks and just woke up from the excitement." Leon said in such a dead-pan tone that if he wasn't Leon, Claire would have thought he was being serious.

Fortunately, she spent far too much time with her friend, and just laughed at his description. "Yeah and Batman came into my room and showed me some bat-tricks in bed."

"You know he's sleeping with Robin, right?" Leon raised an eyebrow as he took a handful of chips.

"Well I didn't say it was good, did I?" Claire retorted as she grabbed the plate with her own sandwich and poured a second handful of chips onto the plate.

Leon wished he had strength or the awareness to laugh, but suddenly the energy was drawn out of him. The room quickly became much colder, and the house seemed so much darker than even the early morning abyss outside.

Claire sighed as her head sank to her chest. "Dream's getting worse?" Her tone suddenly became much quieter and sullen, something Leon wished he didn't hear.

"Yeah." He said softly as he began to put everything away. He could have lied to her, but he knew she would pick it up instantly.

"You know what I want to say, right?" She inquired, her arms now folded across her chest.

Leon nodded as he put the cold cuts and mayonnaise away. "Yep." He turned to face her as he closed the fridge and said, "And you know exactly how I'm going to reply?"

"Always do." Her tone became so quiet and quick that Leon knew she was beginning to get into that worrying phase of hers. The conversation had become so routine that they didn't even need to say the words, yet they were still spoken in the arenas of their minds.

The atmosphere became thick and heavy with the unspoken dialogue and the chill that suddenly entered the kitchen and became a spectator to the staring contest that was taking place.

Leon wondered to himself what sort of things kept Claire up so late at night. Obviously, she had seen her own number of horrors, terrors, and tragedies. She had witness someone who fell for her become a monster and try to destroy her, only to take his own life in the process. Was that one of the demons that possessed her and her moments in bed? Was that the only thing keeping her from having a pleasant rest?

Unlike Leon, Claire never discussed her dreams. Not to anyone. It was generally an unspoken, yet strictly enforced rule in the house that they do not discuss dreams. It was a legislature that was motioned and voted on the night a year ago when Leon found Claire in the kitchen in the middle of the night, sobbing and muttering someone's name into her hands. When Leon asked her if she was talking about Steve, she screamed and tossed a pot at him. For then on, Leon was under the impression that the one thing that kept her up was Steve Burnside.

What Leon failed to realize though, was the Claire wasn't crying over Steve. In fact, she rarely thought about him with the exception of December, in remembrance of him. There was someone else that she was crying over. Someone she didn't want knowing, for fear that the person she feared for would vanish too.

After what seemed like an eternity, Claire finally said, "You haven't forgotten about tomorrow, right?"

Leon smiled and walked over to her. "A pack of Hunters couldn't keep me away."

"Even with Licker reinforcements?" Claire smiled softly as he walked closer to her. For some reason, she felt faint as she looked into his sleepy blue eyes. She knew exactly why she felt that way, and she loved that sensation. If she was going to feel numb and faint, Claire couldn't think of anyone better to feel that way over than Leon Scott Kennedy.

Leon laughed and nodded, "A whole battalion."

Claire smiled slyly at Leon and whispered, "Might have to hold you to that."

Leon chuckled, which made Claire giggle. The heavy silence and the unease that accompanied it had vanished like fog in the sun, and the two friends embraced each other tightly.

Claire closed her eyes and pressed her nose against Leon's chest. Even though he had just woken up, he still smelled like autumn and pines, as if he had just showered.

Leon too noticed how Claire seemed to smell like lilacs and lavender, two of his favorite scents. It reminded him of when his home would be filled with those smells during the spring when he was a child.

The two friends held each other close for a little while longer before they finally slipped out of each other's grip. Claire smiled softly and asked, "Care to join me outside?"

Leon grinned and picked up his own plate, "Try and stop me."

The pair laughed as they walked out onto the patio, which was more than an outcropping of brick and stone with enough room for a couple of chairs. The rest of the night, they looked up at the stars and talked about everything, except for the dreams.

As the two friends watched the stars and gazed at each other, a shadowy form billowed out of the darkness of the kitchen and looked at them with wide, blank amethyst eyes. The smoke around the creature's eyes formed into an elongated skull surrounded by a body of black fog that seemed to melt and billow around a skeletal frame. As it glided across the kitchen and watched them from the window by the sink, crystals of frost spread like weeds across the tiles and all over the metal sink.

The creature watched them, confident that they would not be able to see him. After all, it was his nature to be unseen, even when he took on a physical form. No one had ever seen him before, in all of the years that he had followed Leon around and watched him in the name of the Lich King.

And now the Lich King's plan was coming close to being completed. He knew not what this man's role was in the grand scheme of the Lich King, but if it was truly a mighty plan, the little Shade was happy to be a part of it.