RE: Inclination

A/N: Final chapter in this part of the story. Normally I don't reply to reviews, as it just stretches out the Author's Notes, but I felt the need to comment on the one by Malu. I seriously didn't remember that the doctor told Leon to gain weight. Also, Leon's been to China and back since Degeneration. Poor man, he's got a reason to be a little gaunt of face. I also imagine Leon's a take-out gourmet. I'm considering our "autumn" time for the events of Degeneration to be around August.

Also. Terms. SOP = Standard Operating Procedure.

March 2006

Leon dropped her off at the hotel. In the evening, the white of the Washington Plaza looked gray and yellow because of the exterior lighting. Vermont Avenue NW was quiet, it was so late. Most of Washington seemed to stay awake all night, for some reason, even the residential streets. It was a strange quality of the city that even when it was empty it seemed alive. That was one reason he lived out of the city. Granted it was only five minutes or so when he was pushing it, but it was worth staying somewhere that didn't seem to have its own sinister watchfulness. Oddly, as he pulled into the drop off area, the street seemed quiet. The can lights above the area seemed like candles rather than halogens, and the area seemed asleep. Even the door guard didn't jog over to meet them. Probably the truck, Leon reflected.

He felt the lightness she had brought with her depart as she withdrew her hand from his grip and climbed out of the cab of the truck to head into the hotel, but he kept a small smile on his lips for when he knew she would turn to look at him. She reached the door, and the lazy doorman opened it for her. She rewarded his smile with a glance back, pausing to stare at him across the distance between them for a long moment. She smiled back, almost shyly, and lifted the fingers of her left hand in his direction.

Leon lifted his right hand in response, fingers itching for hers as he returned the light wave. He watched as she turned and headed into the lobby. For a moment he thought of reaching for the key, handing it to the doorman, and catching up with her. He wrestled with himself over that. No, he wouldn't. She was leaving in the morning, in…

The orange digital on his dashboard told him it was just after three.

Twenty-two hours.

She'd be gone in twenty-two hours.

He turned the car from the hotel and returned to traffic, to clean up his apartment… and stopped himself. The warm feeling of her seemed to have sunk into his clothes, and he could feel his fingers tingling where she had kept hers wrapped around his.

Was it the woman or the wine?

It was the woman, he knew. But the wine was keeping her warmth with him. Rather than going home to clean his empty, immaculate apartment… He went to a bar instead.

Afterwards he did something that he hadn't done in years. Leon slept the whole of Saturday. He felt better, he ignored the hours ticking away that would remind him she was leaving. But something was just a little off, the rest wasn't restful. Sunday was a blur. He spent most of it out on the patio, staring at the building and wondering why it felt so empty to him suddenly.

By Monday he was so agitated that he could barely sit still. Leon reasoned he should've taken the Comanche to work, because he was less likely to speed or cut off the wrong vehicle, but he couldn't manage that. It would remind him of her. The drive to the office would've terrified a passenger in the car with him. The ten minute drive he normally took – 10th street to US-50E to Constitution – was extended, even though he was driving faster than normal. He took Wilson to the 66 and zipped around the outskirts of the city before he crossed the river to DC.

He didn't bother looking at the speedometer as he did this, he knew better. He'd feel bad for breaking the speed limit without just cause. He slid the car into his parking space at the garage and took a longer walk than necessary to get to the office. He paused to get coffee, and tried his hardest not to notice the red hair of the barista that poured him the black cup. What he did notice wasn't her too bright smile, the same smile she had been offering since he'd showed up with the bandage, but that she was definitely not Claire.

Claire didn't fake tan.

There was a lot he couldn't manage to make himself see. The security check in the lobby was a blur, as was the elevator where some woman seemed determined to make him spill his coffee on her. Fortunately he made it into the office without giving anyone third degree burns. Leon did manage to notice the pained look on Mackenzie Garver's face as he crossed the office headed over to his desk. The man looked more burdened than he normally did by the day-to-day routine of things, which was quite a statement. It was usually beyond Mack to feel burdened by much, other than his bar tab. Leon could feel his own agitation still in the face of what must be legitimate frustration. All Leon could say for himself was that he'd let Claire go back to the hotel.

No.

He'd taken Claire back to the hotel.

He shouldn't have done something so stupid. He could only be angry at himself. Mack hadn't done anything to deserve his disregard. Mustering all his patience, Leon crossed the office to talk to his colleague.

"So," Leon prompted, leaning against the side of Garver's desk.

"I put in the g'damn leave request last year, they aren't allowed to schedule this sort of an emergency on my only vacation for the decade!" Garver dropped into a language that Leon could only assume he'd picked up on location at some point. It sounded like a fluid, guttural put-down, but was otherwise indecipherable.

"Actually, it's office leave policy, didn't you read the manual?"

Leon's sour retort earned him a heated glare. Mack stared at him a moment before bursting into manly sounding laughter. Leon allowed himself a roll of his eyes.

"Din't you read the one on not getting bitch-napped in the slash wounds, Ken?"

That stupid nickname. From Garver, of all people, it was degrading. Mack Garver had a better track record with more women than most of the operatives could boast having opened a door for. He was tall, had dark hair, and when he wasn't cursing like a shipyard worker, he had a charming accent that was occasionally confusing. It melted the type of woman that liked to enjoy a little mystery to keep them from turning… otherwise sour. If the man had bedpost that he kept score on, it probably looked like he had some crazy termites in his place.

And yet for some reason, double-oh-Garver liked to joke that Leon was the office Ken doll. 'It's all in the name,' Mack said when prompted by an angry shove from Leon that resulted in the two of them fist fighting at a bar somewhere outside of New Orleans. In the lull after the punching, as they both nursed bloodied lips and bruised faces, Mack tipped his plastic beer cup in respectful salute and explained his reasons behind the nickname. 'It's not my fault you have such an unfortunate name.'

Leon didn't care what the reason for it was, he still hated the fucking nickname.

As brazenly annoying as Garver could be, though, Leon liked his co-worker just a bit farther than he could throw him. "I told you not to mess with the SRT chic," Mack gloated.

Rethink that, Leon told himself. Maybe he could throw Mack farther than he liked him. "I'll keep that in mind, Mack. You're also the one who encouraged me to treat her like a hit and run. If she acted like this when I was a bad boyfriend, what do you think she'd do to being treated like a one-night-wonder?"

Mack grinned at that, but seemed to remember his sour mood shortly after. He slammed the meat of his palm against the desk hard enough to make it shift out of its carpet grooves. Leon almost stumbled at that, but managed to recover his balance without too much embarrassing fumbling. "Where's Founder when I need him?" Garver demanded.

"On assignment in San Francisco," Leon said, glaring at the dark haired agent. That didn't help either, knowing Alfred was in San Francisco, where Claire had probably been for the last twelve and a half hours.

"Fair enough, but what the hell are you doing in the office?"

"SOP Quarantine," Leon said, feeling his own annoyance spike at being reminded just how useless he was at the moment on top of having done such a stupid thing as to return Claire to her hotel like that on Friday.

"Bullshit," Mack said, pushing his chair back and rising.

"Yeah, well. Mine was extended two more weeks," Leon said, "or until the ER doc tells me otherwise."

"Pansy," Mack taunted him.

"Are you three or thirty?" Leon shot back.

"Switch with me," Garver said.

Leon glanced at the man. Garver looked genuinely sincere in his offer… Or was it a request? Either way it didn't matter, the man was serious. Normally Garver was the just about last person to shrug out of deployed duty, somewhere just behind Leon himself. What could be that important?

Brown eyes met Leon's hazel ones, and Leon frowned slightly.

"It's my mom," Garver said, looking to the side in annoyance. Sometimes it was easy to forget that even the bold, extroverted man-whore was human too, and humans had families. Even if most of the time they didn't bother with them. What was it Garver had said? He'd planned this leave for a year? "Just…"

"Fine," Leon said, cutting off the dark haired agent. It wouldn't matter in the end. Leon was angry enough that he would either do something stupid and end up on continued SOP down-time, or he'd get sent out before it was officially over. There were only so many push-ups he could do, only so many miles he could run, weights he could lift, period. He wasn't weight training, he was maintaining. Being bulky wouldn't be much of an asset to his job. It would probably be a hindrance. He wasn't BSAA, with a unit emblem and backup. Leon envied Chris that sometimes, but he knew that it would just make him paranoid, having that many people to look out for.

"I don't think I could stand to be in the office right now anyway," Leon added, making a head motion towards their boss's office.

Garver seemed incredulous, but he shook his head at his own surprise and lead the way. Once in DeKay's office, Leon let Garver do the talking. It wasn't that he couldn't be persuasive, it was just that he never felt the urge to try bullying Joseph into doing something. Leon's whole body was tense, despite the weekend off. He didn't hear the words that were being said in his presence. His time hadn't been restful, it had been idle. He felt idle then, standing in the office with the two men. He hated it.

Leon's mind tried to supply him with more pleasant thoughts. Claire's smile came to him, and the warm brush of her breath against his neck.

He ground his teeth together slightly. The sour voice in his head reminded him, again that Founder was in San Francisco, finishing his post-op quarantine. Claire was there. Founder wouldn't notice her, probably, but there was always this small fear that someone would. Not that Founder was liable to do anything. His wife was far too precious to him. Not that it really helped. Leon felt like there was a hole in his chest.

Why had he taken Claire back to her hotel?

"I'll consider it, Garver," DeKay said. "Now get out of my office."

The tall, dark haired man looked at their boss, and nodded grudgingly. Leon was a little embarrassed that he didn't even hear the conversation the two of them had. He started to leave, but a word from DeKay called him up short.

Leon turned to his boss, and was surprised at the calm, contemplative look on the man's face.

"So why did you agree to it? Is this more of the Kennedy impatience to return to the field, or are you a supporter of Garver's misguided affairs?"

It was possibly the most personal thing Leon had heard DeKay say about one of the agents, himself included. He pursed his lips on the retort that he felt brewing. The black hole that was eating away at his chest was a dangerous place to let words come pouring out of. He reigned in his impulse to snap and said, "I'm going to go stir crazy otherwise, and Garver's a friend of mine."

DeKay's intelligent eyes scanned Leon. "He's supposed to leave tomorrow."

"SOP says my quarantine should've ended two weeks ago."

"You're also more recognizable with the facial scar."

Leon pressed his lips together, but couldn't keep from opening his mouth, no matter how hard he tried. "We're all recognizable. We're a bunch of white guys that get sent to the far corners of the planet, it doesn't keep us from doing our job."

"Probably not," DeKay said. There was silence for a long moment. DeKay turned back to his computer. "Collect Garver's briefing on the assignment. It's another of the Townland situations. You can leave on Thursday."

Nodding sharply, Leon turned and headed out of the office. It wasn't until he was halfway to Mack's desk that he realized he'd been given the go ahead. He paused and looked over his shoulder. The windows into DeKay's office had the shades open, and the man inside was sitting with his back to the door, looking out the windows onto the city beyond.

Somehow, Leon also felt manipulated.

"So?" Mack prompted, meeting him halfway.

"Never pull that on me again," Leon said, turning with narrowed eyes at his friend. "Now come on, you get to brief me."

End Part One.