Address to the Nation

Author's Note and Disclaimer: Greetings to everyone who happens to find this. It's been a while since I've graced this site with my presence, and just as long since I've even thought about posting another fic (be it an extension of this one or just another oneshot), but I've recently caught the bug once again (which seems to happen every few months or so) and I think I finally have it in me to work on another chapter for Reign of the Blightbringer. I know it hasn't been "Reigny" or "Blightbringery" yet, but it is getting there… I promise.
And I'm sorry to my subscribers who thought I may have been getting them at long last… but I still do not own the rights to Resident Evil OR Warcraft.

Leon grimaced as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were fixed on his hands, which were busy trying to fix the jumbled mess of black cloth around his neck. His hands were uncharacteristically clumsy with the hand-stitched tie, which refused to comply with his mumbled swears and orders for it to form in to the appropriate shape.

"Leon?" Claire called out from the other side of Leon's bedroom door, "You okay in there?"

The government agent sighed and pulled the tie so it came loose. "Yeah. Just finishing up." Leon held the tie in his hands, where it dangled like the obsidian skin of a dead snake. He stared deeply in to the cobalt eyes of his reflection and calmly worked on lacing the tie again. This time, his hands moved smoothly and with the precision one would expect an agent of Leon's caliber to perform: without any hesitation or mistake in their purpose. A smile crossed his lips as he tightened and adjusted the fashionable noose, yet the smile died when his inner drill sergeant berated him for taking five minutes to adjust something that normally took him thirty seconds.

It may not seem like a long time to many, but to Leon, five minutes was an eternity. In an occupation where everything could go to Hell in the blink of an eye, five minutes was enough time to get you and everyone you know killed at least ten times over.

Leon finally slung his black work jacket over his frame and made his way to the door. He could hear the tv playing in the living room as he walked down the hall. Claire was sitting on the couch with her back to Leon, and while the agent couldn't see it, he knew that she was sitting on the couch barefoot and clutching a bowl of butter-drenched popcorn that had long gone cold.

Claire turned her head from the sitcom she was watching and smiled warmly. She never said it out loud, but she liked seeing Leon in a suit and tie. "Hey."

Leon smiled just as warmly and he walked over to the couch. Allyson was curled up next to Claire, who had her bare feet on the dog's back. "Hey. Heading out?"

"Yeah," Leon nodded and looked at his watch. He frowned in response to the time, "And I should have been out the door a half hour ago."

"You'll make it." Claire kept a smile on her face as she reached in to her bowl of cold popcorn and handed Leon a few kernels, "The address starts at eight, right?"

Leon accepted the offering and started munching on the popcorn. "Yeah. President Graham said he wanted everyone there by four."

Claire looked up at the clock, which read 3:30. "You'll make it." They may have lived only fifteen minutes from the White House, but then again she remembered that she was talking to Leon, who made a habit of arriving at places at least a half hour early. "Is he going to be talking about the incident in Africa?"

"I think so." Leon said and adjusted his tie one last time, "He said he's going to be focusing more on the trouble with the economy and how to stabilize the job market. More people are interested in job security than bioterrorism these days."

"Well maybe they should get their priorities straight." Claire concluded and fished for some popcorn for herself. She flashed a smile at Leon to show that she was kidding.

It took Leon a moment to realize that she was making a joke. A split second too late for Claire, who frowned softly and stood up, "You feeling okay, Leon?"

Leon nodded, "Of course." He paused for a moment and looked at his friend. She seemed to be asking that question almost all of the time now. Whenever Leon was staring off in to space or seemed to fluster, Claire would seem to leap out of thin air and assail him with a storm or inquiries about his health and mental status.

The young survivor knew exactly what Leon was thinking. It did not exactly take a genius to know that Leon was wondering why she was suddenly acting so worried for him. She did not dare speak of the dream she had on his birthday. Nor did she wish to speak about the dream's return in the last few months. And she definitely did not want to tell him about the dreams that were even worse, the ones that made her fear today more than any other.

She felt almost like she was in a production of William Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, playing none other than Caesar's dream-plagued wife. Yet unlike her appointed role, she could not tell her Caesar about her prophetic night terrors. Not just because the message would be as deaf on Leon's ears, but she could not bring herself to believe them either.

Leon gave her another nod and started to make his way for the door. Claire felt her words ride up from her stomach in to her throat, yet her mouth clamped shut to keep them from spilling out. The urge to throw her words out grew even stronger as Leon picked up his keys from the rack. By the time Leon opened the door, her lips gave way to the onslaught. "Leon!"

Agent Kennedy turned and faced his roommate, who was even paler than usual. Her chest was moving in shallow heaves as she struggled to keep the message down. Leon grimaced and walked over to Claire. He knew, deep down inside, that Claire was struggling with something, and he wished that she would try to share it with him.

Claire struggled and finally masked her fears with a smile, "You be safe tonight."

Leon looked in to his friend's eyes and smiled warmly, "I will." He was almost out the door when he turned and whispered, "You too."

Claire nodded back and put on her bravest face before the door slammed shut.

Claire shook as she kept her eyes on the white door. She heard the clinking of Allyson's nails on the hard wood floor and felt the warmth and fuzz of Allyson's coat graze across her legs. She shivered and bent down quickly to embrace her namesake, who seemed to understand the fear in her human companion's heart as if it were her own fear.

She turned to the door and stared at it, hoping that Leon would walk back in to the house. Hoping and praying to whatever god or spirit would listen to force Leon back in to the house and make him kick off his shoes.

Yet she knew it was as futile as yelling at the wind to stop.

Claire looked up at the clock and sighed softly. It was almost seven thirty. Jeopardy was coming to an end, and Wheel of Fortune would be on at any moment. With the exception of a brief moment to heat up some left-over lasagna, Claire had not moved from her spot on the couch since she had sat down nearly an hour after Leon had left. She forced herself to sit through Charles Gibson, hoping to herself that his soothing voice and report about the newest Person of the Week could get her to cheer up or forget about Leon.

Yet it was to no avail. The more she tried to forget about Leon, the more he was at the forefront of her thoughts.

The flushing of the toilet snapped Claire back to reality and she turned just in time to see Rebecca come out of the bathroom and make her way back to the couch. "There we go." Rebecca said and reached for her half-empty beer bottle.

Claire smiled warmly and kept her eyes on the television. Her hands cradled a bottle of Guinness as though it was a child, "Thanks for coming over."

"Any time." Rebecca said warmly and took a swig of her beer. She had just gotten off of her last shift for the day at around four, which was the exact moment Claire called and asked her to come and hang out. Of course, Rebecca knew that "Come on over and hang out" meant "Please come over I need someone to talk to right now", which would simply amount to the two youngest members of the survivors getting drunk while watching tv.

Rebecca laid back and took another sip. "So when is the address?"

"Eight." Claire said. Her eyes never left the screen except to glance up at the clock, whose hands seemed to dangle ominously closer to eight.

Rebecca sighed as she watched the minute hand take a baby step up to the twelve. "Claire, what are you worried about?"

Claire turned to Rebecca for the first time since she came over and said, "Nothing."

"Bull." Rebecca said, "You don't normally tense up like this, even when you're worried. Now if you need to get something off your chest, could you please do it now?"

Claire felt her fears rise up out of her gut yet again at the mention of worry. Her instincts and pride manned their battle stations as the worries rose up and advanced on the battlements.

Rebecca leaned across the table and set the beer down, "What's going on, Claire?"

The youngest Redfield turned to the youngest member of the former S.T.A.R.S team and sighed, "Nothing. Really."

"Uh huh." Rebecca said, "Look are you and Leon having any… " She waved a hand in a circular motion slowly, "you know… issues?"

Claire huffed, "No! No we're not having issues of any kind."

"Oh." Rebecca said and looked down. Her head darted up and she quickly added, "Would you want any?"

"No!" Claire snapped back, causing the former medic to shrink back. Claire gathered herself and blushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. No." She bent down and run her hands through her hair. "I… I don't know what's going on, Rebecca. I wish I did. I really do."

Rebecca frowned and shifted over to Claire and wrapped her arms around the youngest Redfield. "Hey. Hey, it's okay. What's happening, hun? You know I'm here to listen."

Rebecca ran every scenario she could think of and whispered, "Does Leon have a girl?"

"No." Claire shook her head.

Rebecca thought again, "… A guy?"

"No!!" Claire replied and found herself laughing. Neither of them had noticed that the President's State of the Union Address was now being broadcasted. Claire looked at her friend and said, "It's just… I've been having some… really… weird dreams, lately."

Rebecca nodded, as if she understood. "Dreams aren't anything new to us."

Claire nodded, "But not like the ones we normally have. I mean… okay yeah there are zombies and stuff but… it's not like the dreams we're used to."

Rebecca frowned and leaned closer. "Really? Like what?"

Claire inhaled deeply and looked at the screen. She saw Leon standing directly behind the President, his eyes scanning around like a hawk on the prowl. Maybe she had nothing to worry about. Maybe her dreams were just that. Dreams.

Just as she turned to face Rebecca, a shot rang out on the tv and all the world erupted in screams and cries.

Claire and Rebecca leaned as far as they could in their seats, their faces pale and their eyes glued to the chaotic world on the television. Senators and Congressmen were clamoring out of their seats as Secret Service and Marines poured in to the room to clear it.

The blood in Claire's veins turned to ice and her lungs filled with ice water. Her eyes scanned the screen desperately and realized that in the chaos, Leon and the President were no where to be seen.

Claire gasped and felt a knife go through her heart when she heard a reporter shout, "The President and one of his aides have been shot!"