RE: Inclination
A/N: Again, thanks to everyone for reading and for reviewing, and sorry for the delay in this chapter's posting. In part, I blame Capcom's timeline on things. More note at the end of the chapter.
May 2006
Once they finished their 'shopping', Claire lead the way out of the store and back towards the docks. The two children… Leon couldn't remember their names and a part of him didn't want to because if the three of them hadn't shown up then they would be on their way to finding out-
No, that wasn't fair.
The cold voice of his survivor's thoughts pondered putting them on a boat alone, but then his eyes caught Claire's as she checked back on Oscar.
What would Claire think of something like that? Leaving survivors…
Between Claire and the children and Leon himself, Oscar was in charge of the cart that held the water containers. Complacently in charge of them, after the small 'discussion' they'd had just inside the doors of the convenience store.
If they'd not found the three of them, there wouldn't have had to be three five gallon containers. They would've maybe needed one, two at most, and there would be no need for the awkward, bulky cart that they were being pushed in. A frown etched itself in Leon's mind, one that he worked to keep off his face. Claire would notice, even if she was only checking on Oscar.
Leon had known Oscar would be trouble from the minute the man rushed him to try and take his gun. The man was built like a line backer, despite being too old to play and having gone to seed. Oscar was used to being able to force getting his way of things, Leon figured. What he couldn't figure out was why the man had kept the kids with him. Despite that, the rest of his attitude made a clear impression on Leon, so he assumed the man would be trouble.
Leon could've held out a hand and counted down until the moment when Oscar proved it.
Oscar started by protesting being in charge of the water cart, which Claire gave up to him in order to shepherd the two children along with them. That made Oscar try to round on Claire. He didn't see why they had to bring the two children that had been hiding with him. Despite the fact that they had been hiding with him before Claire and Leon had shown up.
Nearly out the door, the low, distant sound of the infected filtered through the cracks. The light was fading as the sun sank towards the sea, painting the front of the store in the golden amber of sunset. Leon remembered that from the few minutes that had passed since it happened, because his mind was scanning through the glass to see if there were dark silhouettes shuffling towards them.
Claire started to round on Oscar, but a polite gesture of Leon's gun to the bald man's mouth made enough of a plausible argument that the man stopped talking. The worst part was that Leon was barely conscious of the shift of his arm to put the muzzle of his weapon against Oscar's cheek until he'd done it already.
Thankfully, he restrained himself before he got to pulling the trigger. When had he gotten so annoyed?
Thankfully, too, the two children didn't seem to notice that part of the discussion. They stayed quiet and wary on the far side of the shopping cart. Neither of them had no problems following Claire's directions regarding the little shopping spree, and as the group headed back for the docks, the two carried bags of food that didn't fit in the cart. Truth was they could have fit in the cart, but Leon saw Claire's theory on it. With something to do, they could focus on that instead of worrying. And grabbing it was a good idea. The food wouldn't last too long, but no journey would take forever, if they were smart.
Oscar stuffed his protests and his arguments after that, and they started back from the convenience store to the ship.
There wasn't time to ask Claire what she wanted to do. Leaving the three of them in the boat would be a bad idea, in case there was anything in the water surrounding the island. Taking them along was a good way to get them killed.
Leon would just have to trust the instinct that told him to get the survivors to safety. It felt like the right one to have, like the one she would have. It was usually his job, rather than the guerrilla-strike force mentality he'd be acting if they descended into the ground zero TriCell facility.
Not that he couldn't. He was good at that too.
Not that he didn't want to. He did.
The level head he was studiously keeping dominant in his mind didn't negate how angry he was that this particular trip had to involve outbreak. He was placating himself that it, so far, had not involved infection as well.
Claire continued on point as they headed down the dock. Leon held the rear, so he could keep a careful eye on Oscar. There was a moment of tense anxiety on Leon's part as the children moved from the aged asphalt onto the wooden boards of the dock. That was the sort of thing that children, in his experience, as well as barely-legal silver-spoon-fed President's daughters tended to face plant on. Claire was strong, and she was good, but there were two of the mini-humans, and she had a shotgun.
He didn't bother to correct himself from thinking that term for the little humans. The cold voice was more preoccupied with the situation at hand.
A second hitch came as Oscar caught the wheels of the cart on the edge of the wood, and the weight of the water jammed the cart in place. The man grumbled, glaring at Leon to do something.
Half-tempted to snap at the man, Leon satisfied himself by elbowing him in the back while he kept his eyes alert for any undead that might shamble up to surprise them. It wasn't where he wanted his focus. He wanted to have it on the smaller group moving away from them, making sure nothing leapt up from the side and surprised one of the mini-humans.
No. Kids.
It wasn't that Leon disliked them, it was that they were generally in need of saving in this sort of situation. And two of them put the odds definitely out of favor.
"Oscar. Move."
"Alright, fine." The fat man, Leon didn't care thinking about being nice and calling him 'thick', right now he was pissing him off so he was fat. The fat man moved to leave the cart behind.
Shifting the grip on his weapon, Leon frowned at Oscar.
"It's jammed."
"Un-jam it," Leon said in a low, dangerous voice. He spared a glance over his shoulder. Claire was paused halfway down the dock, the kids on either side of her. She had a confused look on her face. "We'll need the water."
"Where do you think we're going that we need all this damn water?"
Leon's patience was ebbing. He was annoyed, and it was like his patience was water poured into a frying pan over a high flame. It was evaporating the longer he had to stand around talking to Oscar instead of being productive and moving. It was distancing him from Claire. "Look, Oscar, un-jam the wheel and move-it."
"It's stuck," Oscar pushed forward, towards Leon as he said it, a sneer on his lips that made his entire face pull into something much more grotesque than it had any right to be in a breathing, thinking human body.
It was like facing off with a damn zombie. Leon's patience threatened to leave left him entirely. He reached over with one hand, gripped the front of the cart, and wrenched it free from where the wheels were caught. He leaned in towards Oscar, glaring. "Put your hands back on the handle and push."
"Leon?" Claire's voice called back to the two of them, quiet but still over-loud in the hushed evening silence.
The flame turned down, and though the pan was still hot, more water was poured into it. His patience came back quickly.
Oscar did as he was told. Leon turned, nodding to Claire, and the two of them moved after her and the children. The cart made an ungodly amount of noise on the boards of the dock, but they reached the yacht without greater incident than an increase in the pitch of the moans of the infected, as though they had heard the racket and were responding by closing in on it. Leon stood guard as the others loaded the water and food onto the yacht.
His patience seemed to simmer, idling but still heated. On alert. The grip of the H&K felt reassuring. He shifted his hand on it, feeling the texture against his fingers, rubbing his wrist gently to make sure he hadn't strained something when he forced himself not to shoot Oscar. Overhead the sky was starting to darken more fully, and as the sun sank, he knew the zombies would be more active. It was never a good idea to let one's guard down during an outbreak, but being so close to the exit made it tempting.
"I told you to relax," Claire said softly, stepping up next to him. She seemed to be doing something similar with her hands. Her thumb was tracing the grain of the wood on the handle of the shotgun, and she kept it at the ready in a way he associated with her being distracted or anxious. "And that we'd want that door to lock."
He chuckled, shaking his head, but it sounded hollow. Claire grinned a somber grin, still looking pale, and winked at him as she lifted the shotgun pointedly.
"I know," Leon said. It was the only thing he could think to say. It didn't keep him from adjusting his hold on the H&K again.
There was quiet on the dock for a moment. The lapping of the water against the boats and the wooden posts that supported the walkway was the loudest noise aside from the footsteps of the children and Oscar as they finished emptying the cart.
The noise of the footsteps faded as the civilian survivors entered the boat interior with one of the last loads, and it was then that Leon spoke.
"Claire, what do we do about them?" Leon asked softly. "Where we're going…"
"We couldn't leave them there," Claire said, voice firm. Leon nodded in agreement. "Let's… get out to sea first, it'll be safe from the zombies, and then we can… think."
Not sure if he agreed with that, based on past experience, Leon decided not to bring up the big, giant, ugly thing that had tried to swallow him and the boat whole in Spain. Instead, he mentioned what was annoying him worse than the zombies. "Oscar's going to be a problem."
"Men usually are. They have trouble following simple advice. Here's some advice I know you will follow. Go play captain."
Leon chuckled, shaking his head, and turned for the yacht as the kids came out for the plastic bags containing the snacks that had been liberated for the journey. That was when the noise of the infected reached them again, disturbing the quiet of moments before. Turning, Leon's eyes quickly found the group of them that had cried out.
At the end of the dock there were zombies stumbling forward. The wind shifted as the sky darkened a few more shades. The moans and the scent of them filled the early evening air, but Claire broke the noise with her shotgun. The sharp crack caused the other survivors to gasp, in the case of the children, and curse in the case of Oscar.
Leon squeezed off a few rounds, but Claire was ahead of him. Three steps off the boat and down the dock already. "Get it started!" Claire called over her shoulder.
He didn't hesitate to follow her suggestion. Two of them moving to fight would only hinder their escape, and Claire's shotgun had a wider spray than the H&K. He moved quickly up the ladder. "Oscar, get the children inside the boat!" he snapped as he glanced down and saw the man and the two children staring numbly at Claire's progress. The barked command brought Oscar to life, and he did as he was ordered.
Forcing himself not to look after Claire, Leon found the keys. It took only a moment to get the keys into the ignition, and then the motors roared to life. Glancing out, Leon saw that Claire was three boats down, reloading the shotgun. "Claire, come on!"
Her attention was caught and she skipped backwards, pausing to fire again. It was then that the volume of the moaning hiss from the zombies became apparent. It was louder.
Claire had fired… how many times? And the sound of them was louder.
It made sense, the cold part of Leon's mind surmised. They weren't exactly leaving in quiet retreat.
Leon lifted his weapon, sighting at the other ships, the ones along her route. He saw them, then, hiking their way up into jagged versions of straight on the decks of the other ships. Blood stained various parts of their bodies. Leon knew what that would be like, close up. He forced down the memory of the smell of them up close, the chunks of flesh that would be hanging from their infection bite… He fired repeatedly as the zombies that had fallen and lay quietly rose in response to the scent of Claire moving past them but had been awoke by her returning, or maybe by the darkness that was setting in.
Why did nightfall wake the things like an alarm clock?
Claire gave up firing and worked on the ties keeping the boat to the dock, making quick work as Leon covered her. Finally she jumped the edge of the dock onto the boat and turned to retake the Glock. "Time to go," she called up to Leon.
With a nod, Leon tucked his weapon and turned to the controls of the boat. The craft answered readily, and the boat headed quickly out towards open water. Leon was pretty impressed with himself. He only hit one or two of the other boats in the dock area on departure.
Claire climbed the ladder and flopped down on the deck behind his feet, a grateful chuckle in her throat, and took a deep breath. "I'll take sea air over that any day."
Turning to respond, Leon felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. "It's Hunnigan," he said to Claire. "What do we-?"
"Maybe she has news," Claire said. "We'll know better what to do when we have it."
Nodding, he reached in to pick it up. "Kennedy here."
"About time. The BSAA should be reaching the island in twenty minutes. If you haven't evacuated, get yourselves somewhere visible."
"Well, I consider a yacht in the ocean to be evacuated, don't you?"
"Good to know you're still with me, Leon," Hunnigan said. "I'm going to send you coordinates of the mop up location. They'll have the appropriate facilities to treat anything you or your friend caught on Milena."
Glancing at Claire, Leon frowned. They still hadn't finished talking about… "I picked up a couple more, there's no problem there, right?"
Claire's eyes were closed, and she was breathing deeply where she was reclined against the deck behind him.
"I'll apprise the area manager of the situation. How many extras?"
"Three."
"Understood," she replied. "Hunnigan out."
Leon shook his head. He switched the phone to the message he'd received and coordinated it with the ship's navigational computers. The result was that there would be several hours of travel before they'd be able to stop. But that was only if they were going to go.
"Are you ok?" he asked Claire, glancing down at her.
Claire was watching him, her eyes somewhat guarded. She nodded, put a hand across her stomach, and sat up with a groan. "You?"
"Tired, sore… annoyed, angry. Pick an adjective."
"I see." Claire said.
After a period of silence with only the wind and the boat motors to prove time hadn't stopped, Leon nudged her with his shin.
"Same," she admitted, rolling her shoulders. "So. What do we do?"
Glancing behind them, Leon slowed the engines of the boat so that not quite as much wake was churning behind them. The noise quieted again, and he settled himself in the chair behind the wheel. "You're asking me."
From where she was lying, Claire closed her eyes.
Leon pressed his lips together, felt his brow furrow. It was hard to express… to say how torn he felt about the situation. On the one hand he knew that it was wrong not to get the three… well, not to get two of the three to safety. It was cruel to take children from a nightmare, to promise to wake them up, and then to force them back into it.
The island would be filled with them. The island was filled with them, and it wasn't going to go away just because the BSAA had arrived. It would take hours, days, maybe even weeks to clean up the leftovers of the outbreak after the first response team dealt with the initial infection. T-virus infection was insidiously difficult to purge. Turning his eyes back towards the dark shore that was becoming less pronounced as the light continued to fade with the evening, Leon frowned, lips setting in a line.
On the other hand, this was not the sort of thing that should get to be normal for anyone. It wasn't the sort of thing that should be brushed aside or written off because it happened all the time. There was a lead there. TriCell. There was information, probably a source…
Of course it could be unrelated, his mind supplied. Townland had been there. It was a terrible, nasty coincidence. It might be the coincidence that caused the outbreak. It had been the only available cause for them before.
Or.
Maybe they were just having a McClane experience.
"It's hard to know what to answer," Claire said, interrupting his thoughts.
Blinking, Leon looked down at her. Was she reading his thoughts?
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put you on the spot or anything, I just… I don't know what to say, myself. There's a very large part of me that wants to turn the boat around and go straight back to that TriCell facility and find out what's going on, but… there's another part… a grateful part of me that wants to run. I'm older than this though, right? Running from the things that scare me in my dreams?"
Whatever he was worried about left him as she spoke.
That was weird, wasn't it? Or it should be weird. Why was it that Claire could change his thoughts so quickly? What about her could shift him from his own thoughts so easily?
"That's not about being older or more mature," Leon said. "Not when you have a choice."
She was quiet, stewing that over for a moment.
"But here we do, and part of that has to be about the people that are with us. No matter… what we may want to do about what's happened. It's not…" Leon frowned at himself, letting his eyes turn back to the water. He took a deep breath.
Claire didn't interrupt. He figured she was deep in her own thoughts about the situation.
Slowly, so he would get the full thought out, Leon continued. It was something he'd had to ask himself long ago. Years back, about Sherry. It was a question he'd spent most of an entire night doing nothing but thinking over. Stewing.
November 1998
A week and a half after Claire had split, headed for Europe after Chris… headed for Europe after Leon all but forced her out of their frantic getaway… Leon knew they were being followed.
It was shortly after Claire's email that they were caught. He had thought she wouldn't remember his, the question had been half a joke when she'd asked him. He had been looking over her shoulder at one of the library stops, and she asked if he was jealous, or if he wanted her to send him email to. The conversation had followed through with her asking for his email, even if he wasn't jealous.
Leon had only checked the email account on a whim, but there was a message in the inbox from a strange name. Normally one to delete what was probably spam, Leon had opened it. He was glad he had. There was no greeting, but he knew who it was from.
Caught. Umbrella.
The two words had been enough to make his heart stop. He knew who it was. He didn't need any other indication. After that was a set of coordinates and instructions for what to tell Chris.
Strange, the feeling brought on by that. Leon felt brightened by their exchange, even though it told him only that she was in danger, again.
No. It said more.
She was in danger, yes. But she was alive. Claire had an uncanny, almost miraculous ability to make it through things like that, almost like the angels painted on her clothing really were looking out for her.
Not only was she alive, she was remembering him.
Somehow, knowing that, being sure that there was one other person in the world that was alive caring about what happened to him and Sherry made a difference. Even if Claire was in danger, she was still thinking about them.
It didn't make it any easier to relay the information to Chris.
He would never voice the suspicion, but Leon could wager that being caught was something to do with checking that particular email and getting the message relayed for her. It didn't matter to him, really. It was all a matter of time one way or the other. In hindsight, Leon was fairly certain that with what he knew then, by the time he suspected he was being followed, he was really already caught.
Probably left on a leash to see if they could catch anyone else.
The tire on the sedan had blown, and he knew, even as Sherry shrieked and he guided the thing to the side of the road, that it was over. The chase was called to a halt. He recalled being glad that Claire wasn't there to be caught wit them, but also wishing for someone he trusted.
The vans pulled up, one stopping in front of them, the other behind them, and Leon motioned to Sherry to get out slowly. The girl didn't want to budge. Reaching over, he undid her seatbelt and gathered her against his side. When he slid out of the car, he just pulled her along with him.
Sherry trusted him, even through her fear.
It made his heart sink to realize that, when she didn't struggle against his grip. She trusted him, and he was leading her into a situation that couldn't be trusted. He was taking her into danger, again, when he had promised to take her out of it.
Too many men piled out of the vans that had surrounded the disabled truck. A part of Leon still thought of running, but he knew better. Sherry would never make it. Even if he took a stand against them, even if he sent her off ahead, she'd never make it out.
Leon was sore, makeshift stitches aching in his shoulder, and there was a cold voice in his head that told him that even if he ditched the girl he'd never make it away in time to do any good. So he stood, and let them take them.
He thought it would be better than struggling.
The dark-clothed men tore Sherry away from him, and they were thrown into the vans separately. Before the door was closed, he saw one of the men dragging the contents of the truck out onto the side of the road.
All the tapes Claire had bought so thoughtfully at gas stations to get their minds off the driving… the stash of soda under the seat for when they got too tired to drive… Sherry's granola, which had been the last thing the three of them purchased. The girl hadn't finished the box yet, and Leon figured it was because it was the last thing Claire had bought for her. Aside from the jacket, Sherry seemed to cling to everything about Claire that she could.
In that flash of a moment, he saw them throw it all onto the ground, trashing it. After the back door was shut, a flash of light and a loud noise indicated that the truck had been ignited.
It was painfully efficient of them.
And then the van was moving.
He couldn't, still couldn't, say how long they went, or to where. When they reached the location where the doors were opened again, his optimism sank further from him. Sherry was nowhere. The building looked like nowhere.
He'd seen enough spy movies to know where this was going.
There were no words exchanged, at first. If the man who entered thought he was going to psych out someone who had been through an outbreak, he was obviously more of a rookie than Leon himself was. Eventually, the man spoke, opening a folder and nodding to the man near the door.
"Leon S. Kennedy and Sherry Birkin. I rather expected to find three people in your party."
Staring at the table before him, Leon didn't answer that inquiry. All he knew was that the two of them had brighter futures than this. If Claire lived, she'd surely be on her way to… something, at least. She was going to college, right? And Sherry…
"Leave Sherry out of this," Leon said, looking up at the man who sat across from him. "She's innocent."
A small shake of the man's head that caused light to glint in the surface of his glasses as his head turned, and Leon watched the man from the door return with a disposable cup of coffee. The scent of it overpowered the musty nothing that had filled the room before it came in.
Leon tried not to gag. He'd had his fill of coffee for one lifetime. It was a tool, while they were driving, it was a constant stabbing annoyance in the back of his throat, a bitter reminder that sleep was forbidden, that nightmares could walk if his eyes closed, and that without the support of it, of something, their chances of surviving to fight the walking nightmares would be over. So he tried not to gag both from the scent of the over-brewed tar in that cup, and the memory of his own reliance on it.
The man sipped it. "You don't know that, she's the child of Umbrella employees. Researchers." Pressing his lips together, Leon turned to look at the window on the far side of the room. "Innocent or not, she knows too much."
Nervousness that hadn't plagued him even as he set Claire off settled in Leon's stomach. He tried to tell himself it wasn't that they'd been run off the road and thrown into vans. He wasn't having a reaction to the low level stress they'd tried to put both he and Sherry under with their abduction. It was worry.
He'd managed to set Claire free, loose her to her will in the world. Sherry wasn't old enough to do that with. She was…
His eyes lifted to the man across from him.
Trapped.
He and Sherry were trapped.
The cold, empty voice that had suggested abandoning Sherry when the vans had approached offered an answer. Only one of them would be free, after this.
"Of course, we might be able to overlook that fact and place her with a couple that has suitable security clearance."
If. Leon waited for him to say the if.
He already knew what his answer to it was going to be.
May 2006
"You should never let go of the well-being of survivors to chase the bad guy. It's not just about you."
Leon knew he was talking to himself, arguing the point with himself at that point, after the flood of memories that had reminded him of his choice, he felt it. He felt the whole of them, and accepted them as he had before. As he'd taken the contract, unfair as it was, and fulfilled it until they let him stand down to normal duty.
"I guess that's the only answer there is, isn't it?" she asked. Something about her tone sounded resigned to it, almost… bitter. Her expression hovered, and it looked like it was just shy of the one she had given him across the pie plates that nearly forgotten November. "We can't be irresponsible with other people's lives. Especially not-" Claire chuckled, softly, shaking her head, and moved to get up. "I'll go and-"
He felt the same.
"Stay up here with me, just for a little while?" Leon asked softly.
He didn't want her to go. Even to the survivors. Oscar wouldn't do anything too stupid, and the kids were too quiet for their own good. He could monopolize Claire just then, it was his right. It felt like this time he'd gotten a prize for surviving, for doing the right thing, like Claire was some sort of reward for it.
Claire had been halfway to her feet on the ladder, but when he asked she paused on her way down and climbed up and sat in the chair next to the one that was just behind him.
"Preferential treatment?" she asked as she looked over at him, sinking into the chair with a faint trace of a smile on her lips. Whatever memories she was having were probably as strong as the ones coming up to him.
Leon laughed, somehow, despite how he felt, and it didn't sound as bitter as he was starting to believe he was. He sat down, finally, putting his phone back into his pocket, and reached over to take Claire's hand as the boat headed into the ocean and the sun slipped fully beneath the horizon. He needed to feel that she was with him, even if she was bitter or angry. He needed to feel not alone, just the way he needed it when he went home from a mission… only this time, he had the chance to feel what it felt like he'd been missing.
"You might call it that, I definitely prefer you."
"Prefer me to who?"
He smiled, knowing it was drawn not only by the harrowing stress of the past twenty or so hours, but also by the scar on his cheek. He couldn't help but smile, that much that his body and weariness would allow. The joke was just too stupid not to. "Just about everybody."
It was Claire's turn to laugh then. And just the way her guilt used to wash away, the bitter faded. She was just laughing, even though the situation had stressed her. She was smiling, a little. It was the haggard, worn down smile that lingered in place of a real one for weeks, sometimes months after an outbreak survival, but the idea was there. It wasn't the same sweet one she'd given him across the apple pie, but it was there.
"Save me from the cornball lines," she said, shaking her head.
But she threaded her fingers through his. Claire's grip on his hand was as tight as his was on hers. Warm, slender fingers through his held on. It was a blessed relief.
"If you haven't already," Leon said, wondering when she was going to get that his sense of humor when it wasn't jaded, was sort of anemic from all the dark, blood-letting experience he'd had. "You'll get used to them, if you take a little time to," he offered.
He wasn't even sure what he was offering. He normally shelved any thoughts beyond the moment of work, beyond the action required to survive, but…
"I plan to," she said, leaning her head back in the breeze and closing her eyes. The wind played with her hair, pulling it back and yet whipping it around her face as well.
He watched her for a moment, and felt ease soothe its way into his hurts. Like a hot tub of Epsom salt or… ice cream after scraping his knee. The kind of feeling that started the beginning of ok.
That was a good feeling, after so much raw and numb.
A very good one.
I've been trying to piece together what the hell happened in a few of the gaps while basing it on canon… somehow I was having trouble figuring out at what point after an outbreak situation you ask someone for basic things like phone numbers and email addresses.
That… just wouldn't be a normal thing to think about.
I thought it was fitting that Leon should muse about having a John McClane experience, as the whole Resident Evil series seems based on bad timing on the part of our originally normal heroes and heroines. Talk about wrong place and the wrong time.
Anywho. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Again, sorry for the delay.