RE: Inclination

A/N: Thankfully, this chapter is back to a "normal" length. I also finished my inking for tomorrow a little early! YAY! This is the 14th section of Chapter 2. It will hit at least 22. I'm sticking with the lines as breaks... I remember the old days when we could center and asterik to do that, and it was gone for... YEARS. So the idea that it's back is a little sketch-tastic in my book. So we're sticking with the -hr- tags in this fic.

May 2006

Without wasting too much ammunition, they dodged and wove their way to the station. It was a better idea to save it, there was no telling what else the island might have made… The insects were swarming on bitten corpses… if they had been feasting on the infected as well… No, best not to think up trouble until it showed up. Being prepared was one thing, being paranoid was a good way to end up dead. The dull throb of Leon's injuries became less dull as the two of them moved towards their first goal, but Leon refused to acknowledge that his body was not obeying him as readily as normal. The sun was up as they reached their destination.

And they were not alone.

The number of zombies on the streets had been very low, but as they neared the station, more seemed to come out of wherever they were hiding. The two of them had wordlessly picked their pace up to a jog as the station came in sight, but it was impossible to avoid having to fire and fight with some of them. Claire was normally good at keeping up, but Leon had to wonder if he was just moving slower. He had been training and working at this for years, after all, and she was… while not an amateur or even a novice, Claire couldn't have as much experience with it as he did.

Leon could honestly say he never thought much of vacation island police. The Milena Island Police Station was a single level building with very smart landscaping in front of it. Or at least it had been very smart at one point. One of the squad cars had obviously been driven through the hedges and over the flowers in front, and taken out a part of the sign to boot. The only words left on the partially demolished wooden sign were 'Milena' and 'Police'. The wood was a cream color with a dark maroon on the letters that was shadowed in gray. The squad care was wrapped around a lamppost across the street from the station.

As they were approaching the building, Leon turned and fired off the last of the rounds in his first clip into two zombies that were too close to Claire's heels as she sprinted past the half demolished sign behind them. It was hard to deny it any longer. He was being wasteful with his bullets. He was pushing hard to keep ahead of her. His body did not like complying with his demands.

A pair of grasping hands caught at Leon from behind, and the accompanying stench was enough to tell him that it wasn't a survivor that had grabbed him. They still hadn't seen anyone Leon would consider to truly be a survivor… aside from themselves. Taking his gun in one hand, he gripped at the grasping wrist of the zombie that was leaning in to bite him and flipped the creature over his shoulder.

The animated corpse landed heavily in front of him, and Leon lifted his gun to put two into its skull. He pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

"Leon?" Claire called back to him from beyond the sign. She was standing just under the shade at the front of the police station. Most of the front of the building was, thankfully, intact. Claire stood holding open a glass door that Leon could only hope was reinforced.

Putting his foot on the creature's head, Leon jerked the thing by its arm. The sound of its neck snapping seemed quiet against the moans of the other zombies that were shambling towards him from the street. "Coming," he called to Claire.

Nodding, Claire jogged forward into the front of the darkened station.

Leon followed her into the station, closing the door behind him. He was pleased to find that one thing the island police station had going for it was some interior hurricane barricades. He happily slammed the hurricane barricade closed over the glass and pressed his shoulders to the slim inner door, breathing heavily. It was a strain. He was somewhat out of shape, even after the week back on duty before his forced leave. Closing his eyes, Leon tried to calm his heart, to slow the gasping for breath that his lungs were doing.

Claire's hand found its way to his cheek. "You ok?" she asked softly.

He let himself think about the coolness of her hand on his cheek. He couldn't hear much over his own breathing. What he could hear was the beginning of thumping against the front of the building. The zombies that had followed them must have gotten to the door and…

A squeal in the contained space of the station broke the quiet silence of his gasping, and Claire's hand left his face with a wooshing sound of air passing by. Leon's eyes snapped open at that, and he saw her body tossed to the side by the large tentacle of a creature that was blossoming from the drop ceiling.

The creature's mass was extending down through the ceiling, and a dark, slimy ooze was pooling beneath it. What was it? It smelled worse than the undead shambling outside… and Leon couldn't tell if the overwhelming stench was from the creature smelling more potent or the enclosed space they were encountering the thing in. As the tentacles of the creature swung in the enclosed space, it was hard to breathe with the stench being wafted about.

Not that Leon's lungs were cooperating with him fully, but air had to keep flowing if he was going to stay conscious. Even foul, putrid smelling air was better than the alternative.

Ducking, Leon barely avoided a swing of the tentacles, and he turned over onto his back. The first pull of his trigger yielded nothing. The clip was empty. He rolled to the side, reloading quickly, and fired off a series of shots into the creature.

It squealed in response, withdrawing its tentacles before lashing out. Leon scrambled under one of the front desks to get out of the way. He glanced across the room at where Claire had fallen as he tried to catch his breath. What he saw didn't help. There was blood on her shirt, and she looked like she was stuck with glass. Leon growled low in his throat at that. She wasn't moving.

Leon saw red.

And then her hand twitched, and she opened her eyes a little. She lifted the gun, gritting her teeth together, and fired off several shots. This time, the creature squealed piercingly and fell to the floor. Leon got up from under the desk.

The squeals of the creature continued to fill the reception room, and as the bullet wounds leaked dark ooze that must be blood, the scent intensified. The squeals were so loud that the thumping on the glass façade of the building were drown out.

For a moment Leon considered the gun in his hand, but then he changed his mind. The red that was threatening to overwhelm his vision was stronger than any desire to dispose of the creature quickly. No. It had hurt Claire. He glanced around the office and found a folding chair that was overturned next to one of the desks. Leon tucked his gun into its holster and took the chair in both hands.

He beat the thing until it stopped moving.

The squealing stopped.

Leon continued to batter the thing with the folding chair.

It lay there, oozing and hissing, but it didn't move anymore.

Leon wiped his face, careful to keep the blood from his mouth and eyes, and frowned at the dead thing he'd just killed. He waited, making sure it would no longer do anything. In response, what was left of it hissed in defeat. With a nod to himself, Leon crossed to Claire.

She had been watching, of course. Leon didn't really care. The red threatened on the edges of his vision, but his breathing had deepened. Maybe it wasn't the injuries, but the stress of being in the situation with Claire? The worry over her safety… the…

"Leon…" she gasped out, trying to right herself and failing.

"Hold still," Leon said. He got an arm around her waist and wrenched her off the glass she had fallen into. He put his foot through the remaining spikes, flattening them. At some point, it had been a panel that separated the office from the hall… now it was just dangerous.

Claire whimpered at being removed from the glass. She gripped his shoulder tightly with the arm she had wound around his neck. Leon didn't mind the throb from his wounds that came in response to the pressure and weight of Claire. Actually, it almost felt good.

"Some vacation," she muttered.

"There's got to be a first aide kit somewhere around here," Leon promised, hating the necessity. "Hang on to me, we'll find it."

As the two of them left the reception area, the noise that had been thumping on the hurricane door they'd come through… the glass beside it in the windows beside the door… turned to banging. The glass shuddered in response.

They found the first aide kit in a small infirmary. A small, windowless room, it was nicely defensible. Mostly the kit contained things like sunscreen and burn ointment, but there were some real first aid supplies. Thankfully, despite the blood that had left her skin, Claire's injury was only moderate. Once that had been ascertained, Leon stepped out to the hall. The red threatening his vision got worse when he looked at her injury. Now was not the time to go on a rampage. He needed to stay calm to get through this. To get them through this. So he stepped into the hall, and Claire began bandaging herself. It was strange to Leon, how angry he was that she'd been hurt. Normally, on missions like these, he was beyond anger. He was detached, and focused.

His back to the doorway next to the windowless bathroom where she was bandaging herself, Leon pressed his lips together in a frown and checked his clip again. He tried to find that quiet, emotionless voice that usually spoke up about what to do next. The one that annoyed him by its practicality and how right it always was.

There was only angry silence.

"Calm down, you'll break your teeth if you keep grinding them like that," Claire said softly, "and the dental bill might bankrupt you." She was hissing through her teeth at the gauze she was wrapping around her torso. He could hear it. "I'm not going to die from a little scratch like this."

"Forgive me if I'm a little particular about your physical condition." Leon checked the Sigma's clip again. If he'd had the gun loaded, maybe he would've gotten the thing faster… maybe he could've…

"I'm only going to agree to that if you stop beating yourself up for this. It's not the first time one of us has been injured in the course of an outbreak… hell, you started off injured."

"Later," he told her.

Claire made a noise in her throat that he couldn't assign to the pain of having been wounded. "All done," she said. He could hear her moving. She had pulled on her hooded sweatshirt over her bloody t-shirt as she came out of the bathroom, and she held out her hand for the Glock she'd given back to him momentarily for the first aide session.

The red on the edges of his vision still threatened, and the angry silence was loud in his mind.

One look at him made her pause. "Leon… I mean it, don't beat yourself up over this." She rapped her knuckles against his chest and held her hand out for the gun again.

Leon nodded and returned the gun to her. "Let's find the munitions room," he said, starting to turn to head down the hall. He thought he saw her eyes narrow as he moved.

She grabbed him by the sleeve of his jacket, and he turned back to look at her. Claire jerked on his sleeve, pulling him close enough to press their lips together. Leon was surprised… it wasn't the sort of place… but it felt right.

His eyes watched Claire's as she pressed the kiss on him, and the red fled from the edges of his vision. He sank into her kiss. It reassured him. He could blame himself for the wound, but she had forgiven him. She still trusted him.

Leon put an arm up, wrapping his wrist around her neck. Her hair was soft where it touched his skin. She was warm. He kept the gun pointed away from her, and kept an eye open to the hall they were standing in.

Gently, she pulled from the kiss, checking over his shoulder before she flipped the safety off on the Glock. "I mean it, Leon Scott Kennedy, but so long as that's clear, let's go."

Leon stared at her for a moment. Claire knew how much he hated his middle name. She also knew exactly what to say to snap him out of a funk. She had her gun over his shoulder, and her eyes were trained on his face, but he knew if anything moved behind him she'd see it in her peripheral. What possessed her to be like that for him? He couldn't say, but when he didn't answer, she frowned and gripped the sleeve of his jacket more tightly.

"Leon. Are we clear?"

He found an involuntary smile threatening, and knew he was, for the moment at least, over what had happened to her. Over his guilt, for the moment. He would just be sure that there was time enough for that later. He would be sure that they had a later, and time in it together.

"Clear," Leon said with a chuckle.

"Right, now once we get to the munitions locker, what's our next stop?" Claire asked, following him as he began to move down the hall.

The cold voice returned, easily. "The pier. One of the boats has to be working properly, or we can hotwire it… fastest, safest way off the island."

"Got it," Claire replied.

Over his shoulder, Leon checked Claire's expression. He'd become rather good at analyzing her over the years and… just then, he thought she looked rather optimistic.