Greetings and a Fic
The title is a little improvised and I haven't really proof read this all that much. It was basically percolating in my brain for a day and then was basically written today on my breaks from work, so it's probably kind of rough. And it's pretty much entirely kid friendly, unless the mention of cleavage is bad.
It was 2:45 in the morning and Leon S. Kennedy was awake. He knew he needed to sleep, and that if he really wanted to get sleep he needed to try and get some soon, because once it got past 3:00 there wasn't any point. That was the true turning point of a night, people might go all romantic and say midnight, but really it was 3:00 in the AM that decided whether you'd get sleep. Because once it got past 3 there was almost no point, especially if you had to get up early, or were just an early bird.
In a way though, Leon didn't mind loosing the sleep. It meant no nightmares, even if his nightmares had changed of late. The incident at Harvardville had brought back old nightmares of Raccoon City. And perversely part of Leon was glad to have nightmares of Raccoon City, if only because it replaced the nightmares he'd been having off and on for two years about the whole debacle in Spain. He took it as a sign of how messed up his life when the idea of nightmares about flesh eating zombies were better than nightmares about Spanish peasants with chainsaws.
What did one do at... 2:55 in the morning? Think. Leon had been doing a lot of thinking lately. Which honestly wasn't that unusual, since he was known alternately as a deep thinker or a broodyemo pretty-boy, it depended on who you asked, the mood they were in, how close to earshot Leon was and what mood he was in. But ever since the incident in Harvardville and Wilpharma he'd been thinking more than he normally did. And the subject of this increased use of Leon's pretty blond head? Women. Two women to be exact, two women who were very different from each other.
Though to be honest, his mind tended to turn more towards one than the other. Claire Redfield. A person he hadn't seen in years, spoke to occasionally, and thought about every time things got weird in his life. Which was more often than he really felt it should. But he hadn't actually seen her again until they met in theHarvardville airport, where he'd told her to get down and shot some zombies. It had given him such powerful deja vu he'd almost expected to see her in that pink biker outfit and the airport to have turned into the Raccoon Police HQ.
It had been comforting in a way, to see that despite everything else that had gone haywire in his life, Claire at least was still the same. She had matured, but at her core she was still the same girl he'd known in 98 when they'd both searched for a way out of hell. When she'd heard aboutWilPharma and the vaccine, as well as Terra-Save's partial blame for the catastrophe, he'd felt his heart go out to her. Claire always took things personally, she'd never lost her ability to feel for those around her.
He had been serious when he spoke to her about taking a path he and her brother couldn't follow. He admired the fact that after everything in Raccoon and then Rockford andAntartica , she'd been able to move on and see a way other than fighting, had been able to pull herself out of it where almost everyone else they'd known then had failed. Though she had left the fighting behind, inHarvardville she had still proven that in a fire fight, there wasn't anyone else he'd rather have at his back than Claire Redfield with a handgun. Unless it was Claire Redfield with a shotgun.
He thought back to the last words he had spoken to her before they departed again. How they needed to meet under more normal circumstances. The thing about that was, while he had been serious, he was also being ironic. Ironic, because to them it seemed like running into zombies and bio-terror incidents was normal. He had been wondering if they'd be doomed to run into zombies or parasites if he tried to take her out for coffee or lunch. They had that kind of luck.
Of course that was that insidious voice that said he would never really know what would happen if he didn't bother to try and actually ask Claire out for a meeting. Of course he had the excuse of the fact that he lived in D.C. and when Claire was even in the country, she lived in New York, but there was always a little voice in the back of his head that insisted on reminding him that he did work under the president and that if he wanted to he could in fact just hop on a train or a plain or even another damned helicopter and go see her. Naturally it would be a gross abuse of his power and position, but he had a feeling the expression on Claire's face would be worth it.
Even if he couldn't break his own stringent moral code to abuse his power to go see her, he could call her. After the escape from the airport and before going to find Curtis, Claire had pounced him and brandished her yellow cellphone, insisting on getting his number before he went anywhere else. The same voice also liked to mention that Leon's cellphone was ridiculously advanced and capable of doing damn near anything a commercial phone could do, as well several things that commercial phones couldn't, so it wasn't like he'd have to worry about service or roaming charges.
His last excuse, that it had been so long since they'd talked wasn't even valid anymore, since they'd seen and spoken with each other a month ago. So really, there wasn't any reason why he shouldn't be keeping in touch with Claire. As the thought entered his head, his blue eyes drifted over to his cellphone, resting on the bedside table next to his land line and the blinking red light that told him he had new messages he hadn't checked.
Which brought his mind back to the other woman who had been in his thoughts. Angela Miller, the former captain of Harvardville's S.R.T. and another woman Leon had fought beside in a life or death situation involving viral zombies. Except that Angela was pretty much the opposite of Claire. Angela was tough in the way that all women who chose to wear a badge were tough, but at the same time Angela had been a rookie when it came to zombies. But now that she had experienced it and the terror of biochemical terrorism, she had fallen into the same trap that had ensnared everyone who had been touched by Umbrella Corporation. She had resigned from the S.R.T. and was looking into positions with security firms or even B.S.A.A. so she could combat it more directly.
Leon was glad she felt like being proactive and taking a step to make sure tragedies like her brother's never occurred again, he just wished she weren't trying to treat him like a one-man job fair. She kept calling with questions about different organizations, or asking if he could maybe introduce her to some people. Leon didn't mind helping, but it was kind of excessive and honestly more work that he didn't need. None of this was helped by the fact she was obviously attracted to him, and had somehow gotten it into her head that Leon returned the feelings. So he also had to put up with her not so veiled hints about going 'diving' again.
The thing was, Leon had never really felt attracted to Angela. He could admit she was an attractive woman, beautiful even, but then again he could admitMichaelangelo's David was beautiful, and that didn't mean he was gay. Leon could admire beauty without feeling sexual attraction. An quite honestly, Leon had never been the type to jump into something just because the other person was attractive or had a big bust line. Something Angela hadn't really been bothering to hide when she was around him.
Leon ran back over the whole incident again to try and figure out where exactly Angela had gotten the idea that he was attracted to her. He had gone with her to find her brother, but that was because he knew Claire would be alright and if Curtis was responsible, it was Leon's duty to apprehend him and bring him in for questioning and to face the consequences of his actions. He understood Angela's pain about her brother, and even the story about being a rookie cop, Leon was the master of the bad first day on a new job. Then of course there was the fight with the G-Virus infected Curtis, where he had tried to encourage her, so that she could keep going because he knew how hard and grueling the fight was going to be. When he had told them her they were in this together he had meant it, of course the 'we' he had been referring to had included Claire.
He had worried about Claire when they got cut off, and he'd been worried until he'd seen her in the Air Dome. Then he'd been really worried when he'd seen her limping along with a curtain rod as a crutch. He had wanted to go with her when they parted at the elevator, he'd wanted to make sure she was alright. But he knew the others would need him, and that even with a bum leg, Claire was more than capable of taking care of herself. So he had let her go to where he knew she would be safe, but part of him had been worrying about her the entire time he was with Angela.
Thoughts of Angela led him back to where he had been before, trying to figure out where her infatuation had come from. He hadn't seen anything romantic about encouraging her, then again he hadn't seen anything romantic about the diving part either. After all, Angela needed air, she hadn't held hers long enough and probably wasn't trained in how to manage holding your breath for long periods of time, so he had to give her some of his. She would have been even more useless if she'd been unconscious, and when facing a monster like Curtis, you needed any help you could find. It hadn't been a kiss, no matter what she might convince herself of. Leon had been taught that trick in training and had practiced it, and been practiced on, by a large moving muscle wall named Timothy De Camp who was as ugly as sin and somehow became convinced that Leon was gay. He still gave Leon weird looks when they would pass each other.
The hand holding... well that was harder to explain away except to say that he had just kind of forgotten he was still holding her hand. He had been focused on looking around, making sure there wasn't any trace of Curtis coming up through the floor, or more of the building collapsing around them and the like. Once he was sure he wasn't going to have to run for his life again. When he had noticed and looked over at her, it was too late to pull back, because Angela noticed, and he could almost see her getting the wrong idea, again. It reminded him of something he'd been told when he was younger, something about the minds of women and cats being entirely impenetrable.
Leon groaned and laid back on the bed, glancing at his clock to see that it was now 3:15 and officially past the point where sleep was feasible. The fact that his thoughts were less than calming or comforting really hadn't helped with the attempt to sleep. He considered turning on the TV and seeing if there were especially bad infomercials on to watch. He remembered being on the run from Umbrella with Claire and Sherry, and the nights when they couldn't sleep, he and Claire would stay up and watch the most awful infomercial they could find, the kind where they sold you the spray on hair in a can. His lips quirked in a small smile, and he was about to roll over and reach for the remote when he heard the distinct beeping noise that meant he was getting a call on his phone.
He rolled over, grabbing it and answering without looking at it. He expected it to be Hunnigan, since he couldn't imagine who else would call him at 3:22 in the morning. "Kennedy." He said tiredly.
"Hi Leon, it's Claire. Sorry for calling so late, did I wake you up?"
An that's the end. I'm thinking of making this kind of a three-part thing, with the next two being from Claire and Angela's perspective. An then my mind is trying to tell me I should do something longer, but I have commitment and completion issues, so I'm going to take it one step at a time.
So let me know what you think about it, cause feedback of all kinds is greatly appreciated. ^_^