RE: Inclination

A/N: We're nearing the end of the first part of the story. Two more chapters after this one. Don't worry though, I'm calling things "parts" when there's a time jump. Also, even though I haven't stated it before as a heading, we're in March of 2006. To avoid confusion going forward, I'll be putting month headings in the chapters.

March 2006

What concerned Leon more than the annoying routine of cleaning his wound and finishing what seemed like months of backlogged paperwork was that his stamina didn't seem to be returning. Late afternoon as he leaned in the elevator on his return from lunch break (one which had been delayed by a conference call with the White House that DeKay required him to join in on), he wondered if Angela had something to do with it. After the conference call, he hadn't felt much like eating anything, which he knew was bad for him, since he was trying to recover, but it was better than nothing.

He knew when he'd needed to take time to recharge. He knew he did it better with a comforting, supportive presence. It was a very obvious moment, and in that moment, he'd been struck not only with emotional rejection but with a physical blow. How long had he been at this? How long had he been dancing around commitment? Was he dancing around it, or was he hiding from it behind his 'purpose'?

This was why Leon hated being in the office. It was too easy to forget the shadows when he was walking in the light. Somehow the delicate balance he normally had to maintain during periods of numbness was shattered under the fluorescent lighting that illuminated the commercial carpet lined office. Even though he had been working in the same situations for years, it was easy for his brain to write off the incidents as fiction. His brain wanted to believe that what he had experienced, what he had seen or heard in some cases very first hand, was all a bad dream. And when it was just him, in his solitary bubble on the far side of the office, or in his empty, faceless apartment, it was easy to do just that.

Maybe he was getting too old. Maybe thirties were the end of fighting bio-terror for everyone. He didn't really think so. He knew it wasn't strictly a rule, as others were carrying on in active roles in the fight well past his age. Rather than declining, he should be reaching the pinnacle of his prowess at it. So either he wasn't very good at this job, or maybe he was having a mid-life crisis.

Claire would probably laugh at him for thinking that. It would help to have her laugh at him, though.

His phone rang, and as he slid into his desk chair, he glanced at it as he lifted it to talk. "Kennedy." The clock on his desk told him it was reaching five o'clock. Some lunch break.

"Hello, stranger."

Claire. Why the hell did his life keep bringing him right back to Claire all the time? To eight years ago? What was it about Raccoon City that he had to relive over and over again? Or was it his fault for continuing with this line of work? He'd been at it again, at her side during it, when? Six years ago in Burma, and then four years ago in South Africa. Really in a way he'd never left her side. They were both working towards the same things. She was there when he needed her, she was there for support. Even in Harvardville… when she was one of the civilian victims, she was at his side the minute he moved after an objective. There was no talking about it, there was just trust. Claire knew that anything Leon was doing was good enough for her to put her support behind it.

"Claire… uh… Hi," Leon said. It was, he knew, probably the least composed greeting he'd ever exchanged with her. They had fought zombies together, but the worst of his lines to her was that. It was sad.

"Sounds like you're going through a rough spot. I… realized it's been all on you for a while to make contact, and I thought it was my turn," she said. "How are you?"

Her words caused a curious sensation in him. He felt suddenly heavy, like his mass had increased and there was more gravity acting upon his body, but not weighed down necessarily. No, it wasn't that he suddenly felt heavy, it was that he realized how heavy he felt. It was not a feeling of gravity he was experiencing… and as she spoke, as she asked after him, it was like a pressure that had been on his chest was released and he was able to breathe for a moment. Leon pushed his chair back from his desk and rose, even though he'd only just returned to the office. He needed to be away from prying ears for this conversation.

Founder, one of the other agents, tipped his head and started to talk at him, but Leon waved a hand at the other man. "Injured," Leon said as he crossed the hall to the balcony.

"Nothing too… serious I hope?" Claire's voice was suspicious, a little. Worried. She didn't ask how he'd been hurt or by whom. Her concern was soothing.

"Stitches, knife wound," Leon said. He pushed the door open and headed out onto the balcony across the hall from his departmental office. The spring air greeted him. It smelled better. "Nothing too serious. Aggravated the wound the other week…"

"Someone beatin' up on you?" Claire sounded fond. "I suppose it's nothing new, but tell them I said they better watch it."

He felt a light laugh coming from his chest. "I'll do that. Though I might get hit harder." She chuckled as well, and then there was a pause. The pause stretched between them for a moment, and Leon realized that in his changed energy, he had forgotten. "And you?" he asked, knowing how awkward it sounded when he said it that way. "What's up?"

"Nothing too terrible," Claire said. He could hear the lie in the waver of her voice. She wasn't doing well. "No outbreak anyway."

"I see," Leon said. "What are you working on?"

"Finishing up a… uh… series of meetings regarding health standards for…" Claire sighed. It was a weary noise that he had heard from her occasionally, but when it occurred it faded as their conversation continued. Leon liked to think that he was somewhat responsible for easing off her weariness the same way she took the weight out of his sometimes sagging shoulders. "Food packaging and distribution. Then Sunday I fly to San Francisco for an outreach with some survivors."

"Where are you now?"

"Washington," Claire said, sounding a bit withdrawn. "I had dinner with Chris the other day, and…"

"So have dinner with me tonight." He didn't know what possessed him, he wasn't sure where the idea came from, but… she sounded so… and he knew that he felt better talking with her. He knew she felt better talking with him, so there was no reason they shouldn't both feel better.

"That might not be such a good…"

"Normal circumstances, Claire," Leon said. "Dinner in the city is definitely on the right set of criteria."

"Well, I can't argue with you there," Claire said. "But I'm really a bit worn out, Leon, I don't think I'll be very good company."

"That's presuming that I'm every any better," Leon offered. "Tell me where your hotel is, I'll pick you up."

It didn't take much more convincing than that. Leon was glad of it, glad he didn't have to think of reasons to see her. He was also glad to know she was as easily talked into it as it had been for him to think of it. They hung up and he clocked out early. Hunnigan had been dropping unsubtle hints that he should be taking some time off, or at least doing a light duty schedule. A very small thought in the back of Leon's mind figured she would be ecstatic, but the rest of his mind was more agreeably occupied.

Knowing Claire's taste in vehicles, Leon swung by his apartment building and switched out to his truck. He didn't bother changing, his eagerness wouldn't allow him to do something like that. A nagging thought reminded him he should be driving more cautiously, and that the Jeep was not a sports car, but it was like a whisper at a party playing loud music. He was going to see Claire.

Turning the Comanche onto the appropriate street, Leon was surprised to find himself a little nervous. Maybe he should have taken the BMW, perhaps it would have made a better impression. He had put on a bandage over his grizzly looking facial healing. It had been seven months since he'd last seen Claire in person. It wouldn't do for her to vomit the minute they met again. He'd been busy, she'd been hopping city to city with work… and they never really saw each other half as much as they spoke to one another, not after the fall of Umbrella. The valet came to take his keys, but he held up a hand.

"I'm just picking someone up," he said, climbing out of the car regardless. It felt… strangely like a date.

Claire had made him promise nothing fancy. There was nothing regarding a date in the rest of their actions, but people always paired them together in that manner when they went out together. And for once, Leon sort of felt like that about the evening. He knew that wasn't why Claire had called him. He knew it was long-accustomed comfort that she sought, her old friend that she could tell everything to, that she could do anything with.

Amusingly, his mind brought up the last time he'd nursed her back to confidence, after the football player. What had his name been? Something silly and like an inanimate object? Candle? Wick? Yes, Wick. That was the muscle head's name. That hadn't been a date either, but he'd still gotten to throw the jerk into a dumpster head first. So of course this would be to Claire what it was before. It was friends meeting up after a while, it was helping and venting and… it surprised him to think that he wasn't thinking that about the evening. It felt like a date to him, but he repressed the feeling. Timing would be important, if it wasn't a date… or if he wanted it to be…

Enough. Leon shook his head, clearing those thoughts from his mind. This wasn't the time for them. Instead, he headed into the lobby with his hands in his jacket pockets, and looked around for her.

One thing he could say was that even in a crowded room, he could pick Claire Redfield out of the moving bodies. His rational mind thought up reasons for this. They both had a similar stillness that he associated only with survivors of incidents… she was a redhead… she inevitably had several people discreetly admiring her. But he knew it was also because she was familiar in a way that was brought on by the fact that their encounters were so often filled with moments that required heightened awareness. It bled into his normal perception of her. Leon knew that he was highly aware of Claire in any situation. He knew that on occasion he had wished for her in sticky situations. He knew she would move as he did, would check as he checked. Claire must have trained with Chris, Leon thought to himself. That must be why she was so dependable. She would, entering the lobby, do the same checks that he did.

The lobby was well laid out, Leon had to admit. His mind wandered to the defensibility of a location, mapping escape routes. He knew where he'd go if… it didn't matter. He saw Claire, who was leaning against one of the structural pillars with her eyes closed. She hadn't lied on the phone, she looked worn out. A hooded sweatshirt was covering whatever top she wore, a dark one it looked like where it peeked out between the two sides of the zipper at her chest. A pair of jeans with a worn in looking pair of boots on her feet, and Claire was hugging her arms around her chest. She must be frustrated, he thought. Her hair was pulled back, as usual, but her bangs fell around her face making a soft frame for her pale skin.

He cleared his throat as he approached, making some noise to alert her to his presence, and she glanced at him with a bit of a grateful smile. "Leon," she said.

"Am I late, I thought…"

"No, I just felt like coming down a bit early." Claire brightened with a smile. "Am I dressed ok?"

"I'm not the right person to ask about dress code," Leon said, holding out a hand to her. "You know that."

"Ah yes, which of the Inaugurations was it that you had to send photos from your room while you were dressing? Do you still have those boxers, by the way? They were adorable." Claire took his hand.

"Ha, ha, ha," Leon said dryly, turning to head for the exit where his car was waiting.

Claire held his hand, tugging him to a stop. He turned to look at her, and saw her looking gratefully at him. He started to turn back to give her a hug, but she shook her head slightly. "Not here," she said, glancing over her shoulder warily.

Shrugging, Leon accepted her caution and led the way out to the car. His mind ran away with itself given the opportunity. When was it he'd last held Claire in his arms? 2003? At her graduation? Surely it wasn't that long ago… He opened the door for her before rounding the car and climbing in himself. He couldn't supply himself with another time when he'd hugged her since then.

"Thank god you're at least still acting normal," Claire said. "Chris was driving some new sports car when he came to get me, and he ordered me to put on makeup."

Leon turned the engine over and glanced at Claire. "Well I sold the Healy Mark II when I moved to Washington from Minnesota. But I won't lie. My other car's a BMW," he said. Claire chuckled. "But I bet you would look good in makeup."

She chuckled again, but her heart wasn't in it. He pulled away from the entrance and slid his truck into traffic. There was silence between them, and then they both tried to talk at the same moment. Claire coughed, and Leon gestured for her to go first.

"Sorry about the hotel, my partner on this set of meetings is a little… difficult."

"The stalker type?" Leon asked. "Or the boyfriend type?"

"The latter." Claire eyed him, he could feel her gaze on his face. "You sound pretty annoyed at that."

"Do I? I hadn't meant to," Leon said honestly. He couldn't recall his exact tone at that. "But I don't like the thought of you being in a relationship with a stalker. Just… not a good thought for me, I guess."

"Me either, but then you with facial injuries is probably the same for me," Claire said. She looked out the window. "…can I say something and have you not judge me about it?"

He was tempted to ask when he had started judging her, but he knew that was his own annoyance talking. "I can only do my best," he said to her.

"He reminds of a zombie."

Leon pressed his lips together at that. Not the most promising comparison. Claire fell silent after that, and the silence stretched out between them until she reached forward and turned on the radio. There was classic rock blaring on it, the last time he'd driven this truck had been on a camping trip he'd taken with Founder and Garvey. It was a team building exercise that hadn't turned out so well until he'd produced the beer cooler from the back of the cab. Afterwards they'd cranked the music and sung like idiots. None of them had even gotten really drunk, but the beer had done enough to lighten the mood that they were comfortable. Claire twisted the volume knob to turn the volume down.

"You're listening to 92.3 fm, rocking you out from Foxhall. We're in the middle of another half-hour music sweep." Leon considered where he had been planning to head to dinner and changed his mind. A quick turn of the wheel moved the old truck out of the straight lane as he headed back towards his apartment. His abrupt turn alerted her, and he could again feel her eyes on him.

"I know I said dinner, how about we cook instead?"

"Cook?" Claire asked, a little incredulity slipping into her tone. "Leon, I'm in no mood to-"

"And by cook I mean put something frozen into the oven. You can even pick it out. So long as it doesn't have anchovies on it, we're fine."

"What… brings this on?" Claire asked. Her voice sounded a bit skeptical. She sounded like that from time to time when he professed hale mind and body, or when he said he was alone on a couples' holiday. Although maybe it was sadness, or resignation he heard in her voice. The tone was so infrequent that he couldn't be sure.

"I don't think either of us will feel comfortable talking in a restaurant, do you?"

"No," Claire said, as though realizing it herself. "I suppose I wouldn't," she admitted. "But are you sure… I mean your place isn't notoriously clean."

"Actually, my place is notoriously Spartan. You'll be lucky if you find a chair or a couch to sit on, or so the rumors go."

That earned him a laugh from Claire. "In that case, pull in to that organic grocery store, would you? Let's get the good stuff. I'll spring for the wine if you're buying the dish. Unless of course you're on pain medication at the moment?"

"I know better than to be intoxicated when meeting you," Leon replied. "I'm off it for the evening."