Chapter Text
A soft, cold morning breeze entered the room. Sunlight shines through the window, making its way to her side of the bed and resting on her exposed arm up to her shoulder while also gracing her face. She was a helluva' woman, a unique beauty indeed, there was absolutely no doubt about that. Many years have passed and despite now being in her early forties she had aged as fine as wine to the point she could fool anyone she hadn't gotten past thirty yet. She wasn't getting any younger as time flew by but she sure as hell wasn't getting less astonishing. Her auburn hair sparkled in contact with the light and fiery strands danced across her face as the wind played with them, brushing her forehead and tickling her nose.
"Nngh...", Claire groaned and shivered as the sweet morning breeze cooled her face and was starting to freeze her bare arm.
At the same time, the sun relentlessly tried to pierce its light into her eyelids. She unconsciously turned her back against the window, facing away from the blinding, intrusive light and shielding her face from the chilly stream that invaded her bedroom, hiding her free arm under the pillow.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-
The loud sound caused her to grimace, forcing her wake of a peaceful slumber. She lazily opened her eyes and scanned the far end of the room, finally glancing at the cause of her disturbance. She made quick work of flipping the sheets off of her well-toned body and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, taking a breath and regaining her senses, crossing her arms in an attempt to shield her body from the cold air as she ultimately stood up and made her way to the other side of the king size bed she rested on, finally shutting off the infernal beeping from the digital alarm clock placed on top of the nightstand next to a lamp, a empty glass of water and a medical jar with a few sleeping pills.
It was half past six in the morning. Claire came back home after an international TerraSave conference and was suffering from a terrible jet lag she hoped would go away soon enough. However, she had gotten the week off she had requested and didn't need to worry about having to work wasted, she had seven days to get all the rest she needed and Moira could totally fill in for her.
"Damn, it's getting colder in here...", she mumbled to herself and walked towards the dresser next to the bathroom door, opening the first drawer and grabbing a red sweater, wearing it over her shirt. She opened the second drawer, wore her blue jeans and shimmed her feet inside a pair of yellow slippers she had placed next to the dresser. She glanced at the last drawer, giving it a good, hard look before pulling it open. On the left side there were many pairs of black and white socks stacked next to each other and, on the right side, many scarfs of different colors. Of all the scarfs, she had grabbed a dark blue one he had gifted her on her 40th birthday. She loved that particular scarf. It was a part of her now, even in the coldest of days she wouldn't pick any other of the scarves she had over that one.
It reminded her of him. His face, his voice, his scent, everything, and she kept that with her like she was carrying him everywhere she went. It wasn't the first gift she had gotten from him, but he had never really gave her something else than chocolate and flowers on her birthday. She was surprised when he decided to give her something different for once even if it was just a scarf, and she was thankful for it. She made her way towards the door and exited her bedroom, heading left in the hallway and walking down the steps, making her way to the kitchen.
Once she arrived, she quickly poured herself a mug of coffee to warm herself up and headed to the living room. She sat on the brown couch and raised her legs resting them on top of it, making herself comfortable. She turned on the TV and flicked through the channels trying to find something good on. As always, nothing interesting was on TV and she realized how much she would rather work than be at home doing nothing. She hated the monotonous mornings and couldn't wait for afternoon. At least she could go out, watch movies, visit the park and hang out with someone instead of rotting in a bed all day. She left the TV on, using it as background noise to keep the loneliness away and sipped through her beverage. Suddently, her thoughts caught her, and her mind shifted to him.
"I wonder how he's doing..." she thought to herself as she realized they hadn't met in quite some time. The last time they had seen each other was last Christmas. He seemed a bit crestfallen at the time, but then again, who didn't? She smiled as she reminisced moments of the party. She had a lot of fun chatting with Barry and his girls, catching up with her brother and Jill who got together after the man finally managed to propose himself to her, Leon's stupid jokes and his little quarrels with Chris, her call with Leon to Sherry... She valued and held on to these moments she shared with the people she loved with her life because, after everything they went through, it showed her that all of them could still have a bit of normality in their lives, even for just a moment... Bioterrorism refused to cease and she knows someone has to stand up against it. But... why them, of all the people in the world? Why? Why she and her brother? The Burtons? Why Sherry? Why... Leon? She sighed and shaked herself away from the thoughts that clouded her for a fair amount of time now and put away the now empty mug, standing up and walking towards the TV to grab the cellphone that was sitting right next to it and closed her eyes. Maybe he was busy, maybe he wasn't, she was bored and thought it wouldn't hurt to try. She sat back down on the couch and dialed his number, placing the cellphone beside her ear and hoping to hear his voice, even if it was just the voicemail.
~
He was broken.
He was a mess.
He was lying sprawled on his bed, his eyes glazed at the ceiling of his bedroom. Bottles of hard liquor were placed on the floor right next to the edge of his side of the bed, shot glasses on top of the nightstand. Beside him rested a woman, almost as tall as him, dark blonde hair, her back turned against his face. He couldn't remember why she was there or even who she was, but he could guess. He had wasted himself in the club again. It wasn't healthy but was definitely the best way he could cope with the pain and fill the void he felt inside him. Or so he thought. He moved the sheet that barely covered his body away and stood up, realizing he was naked. Figures. He wore the boxer he found on the floor and headed for the bathroom, hoping cold water would help relieve a little of everything he was feeling. He turned the water on and bathed his head in it, drying his face and hair with a face towel that hanged from the holder. He lazily brushed his teeth right after, the taste of old alcohol and whatever kind of body fluid he had tasted from that woman torturing his mouth. It helped him shake off a bit of the sleepiness and he felt more aware of his surroundings despite still being completely tired. He walked off the bathroom and noticed the woman was now facing him with a sleepy face, struggling to keep her eyes on him.
"Hey...", she spoke in a whisper, her mumble barely reaching his ears. "You feeling ok?" she asked as he stared back at her, scanning her face for a few seconds before answering.
"Mhm.", he faced away from her, gesturing at the door. "Do you mind leaving?" he crashed back on the bed, burying his face in the pillow and covering himself back.
"I don't," she answered. "But only if you promise you'll be okay by yourself here. I don't mean to hurt you but you're a bit of a mess, honey. Are you going to be fine?" She placed her hand on his shoulder, caressing it.
"Hmph... why do you even ask? It's not like you care. You got what you wanted, right? Now leave." he mumbled and moved his shoulder away from her grasp. She looked at him, eyes filled with concern, and let out a sad smile, empathizing with him.
"Do you want me to call someone? To get you something?"
"...no. But you can get yourself something." He leaned up and stared at her face from over his shoulder.
"What?"
"Get yourself the hell out of here."
She gasped at his rudeness, shaking her head and immediately got up to gather her clothes, dressing herself up and leaving the bedroom without saying a word. He sighed, once again feeling bad for his discourtesy with yet another woman. He flirted with them, drinked with them, took them to his apartment, he fucked their brains out and held them like he'd never let go only to dispose of them in the morning like nothing, just because he felt guilty of making them have to put up with his lack of self-esteem and his self-hatred.
He used them as mere objects of pleasure, trying to numb his mind and body with the ecstasy while also drowning himself in alcohol. His life went even more downhill after he was withdrawn indefinitely from his duties at the DSO as result of his recent behavior. He did hate his job and despised bioterrorism with every single living cell that composed his body, he watched good colleagues and close friends perish at the hands of B.O W.S., he observed as cities collapsed and innocent people were brutally murdered in cold blood at the hands of terrorists, but at least he had something to fight, and who to fight for. Even though he knew that nothing of that would eventually come to an end he'd keep fighting, doing his best to protect others from the countless terrors he witnessed every single day.
When his life began to have some kind of meaning once again, they had put him away, and he was lost. Again. Helpless. Just like he was that night , in 1998. He could swear he had changed, but deep down he was still the same frightened rookie with a strong sense of justice who had his life taken from him about two decades ago. He leaned back on the bed and buried his head in the pillow once again, hoping he'd doze off and only wake up in the evening where he'd repeat his miserable cycle once again. But before he could get asleep, he heard his ringtone from the living room.
He frowned and stood up right away, limping his way to the exit and heading to the living room as slow as he could. That pulsating headache and that awful dizziness would be the end of him if he even dared to pick up the pace. Maybe they changed their minds and decided it was time to bring him back to duty. Maybe it was some fucking telemarketer. Maybe it was Ada, who he had no contact after his services were postponed. Or maybe, just maybe, it was her. And he didn't want it to be her. He didn't even want to hear her voice in the state he was in. He wasn't worthy. Ada he could bear, he knew she wouldn't give a shit about his sorrow. Claire, on the other hand... she cared too much. He picked up the phone, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Right when he was about to answer, the ringtone ceased and the call dropped.
"Great." he huffed and headed towards the couch where he sprawled himself onto. He waited for the person to return the call, but all he got was a voicemail notification. He clicked the notification and was sent straight to his voicemail.
"You have one new message. To listen to your messages, press one-" and so he did.
"New message, received, today, at six, fifty two, A.M." he took the cellphone closer to his ear to hear the message better. He regretted it.
"Hey, Leon! It's me." He froze at the sound of her voice. His whole body started to shake. His skin went pale as cold sweat ran down his forehead, his lips pursed and eyes shut tight.
"I was bored and... I realized we haven't talked in a while so I thought I'd call you." he heard her chuckle and he couldn't fail to notice she sounded like she had longed a lot to speak to him. But... why did it have to be at that time?
"When you get this, would you mind calling back? Maybe we could do something this week if you're up for it, have dinner or, I dunno... catch a movie, maybe? Your pick. Just... please call me back, okay? I... I really miss you. Bye."
The message ended and his grip on the phone tightened. The last thing he wanted was for her to see him in that state. For her to throw herself away caring about a broken thing such as him. And he realized how much of a selfish piece of fuck he was, hiding himself in whatever shithole he could find from one of the few people who gave a damn about him on this Earth. He sighed, pressing the tips of the fingers of his free hand against his temple, caressing it, trying to ease the headache which had only gotten worse ever since he chose to hear that damned message. It didn't help. He wanted to see her, to hold her as tight as he could, to cry on her shoulder and let all the angst and sorrow he has stuck inside of him out... To be inside her, giving her the bliss and joy he himself didn't have and gave up on searching for. If he answered, he knew he could end up using her just like any other woman, because that's what he did. He hurt women. But if he didn't answer, he'd definitely crush her by ignoring her call, her plead. Maybe, just maybe, he could pretend he wasn't numb.
And so he tried. Because it was for her.
He dialed her number and pressed the damn call button. He took a deep breath, preparing himself psychologically to listen to her.
He wasn't ready.
He just hoped he wasn't fucking up the rest of his life.
And hers.
Right after he exhaled, she had picked up the call.
"Hey."