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After Panamstan and the White House incident, Leon and Claire did not talk often. Even if they tried, nothing was as it was before.
Leon hurt his soul when he thought about what he had lost and just because he wanted to protect her.
But that’s how he was.
When it came to Claire and Sherry, he couldn’t help himself, and his natural protective instinct took immediate action.
Sometimes he thought that was the only thing left of old Leon, the rookie.
When Claire and Moira disappeared, Leon’s wall collapsed, which he had built so carefully. After her return, he suddenly looked for her and sought the conversation. Claire had opened the door puzzled, but she didn’t seem surprised. Even during their conversation, her fingers intertwined as if they were natural, and any emotion he had held back all these years sought its way to the surface.
It was the first time Claire saw him cry.
When they unexpectedly met at Alcatraz, Leon’s heartbeat stopped for a brief moment.
Claire, infected, near death. He couldn’t bear to lose her, but his mask only cracked once when he discovered she was sitting in the cell next to her brother.
It took all his strength not to betray himself. And she too revealed only for a brief moment what it meant to her, that Leon was there.
Hours later, Claire had swapped her red jacket for more comfortable clothes, she slipped out of her shoes, a relieved sigh on her lips.
Strong arms embraced her from behind and she turned around in the arms of the man whose face she had known for so long.
"I was almost afraid that your brother would take my words as an invitation to come along." he smiled as he pulled a unruly strand from her face.
"Chris and vacation? He doesn’t know that word any more than you do." she whispered and looked up at him.
An indignant grunt escaped Leon before he sunk his fingers into her hair in the neck and pulled her closer to him.
"You are my vacation," he murmured hoarsely as their lips approached.
When their lips touched, the world around them was forgotten for a moment. It had been too long since they had had an undisturbed moment together.
"We should finally tell the others, Leon," she gasped at his lips.
"And rob Chris of the illusion that he saved me from my depression?" he growled and kissed her again.
She smiled seductive at his lips, her body pressed against his: "Point for you, but..." her hand wandered down his upper body over his defined muscles, "if we told the others, you could get more of this, any time."
"Clearly a good argument." he whispered and pressed his lips again on hers. This time there was an incomparable hunger in it that made her knees tremble.
"I really thought I lost you for good this time," he pressed out gravely and kissed her again, only more desperately.
"Without you, I can’t do all this anymore." His voice sounded broken and Claire’s heart clenched.
His forehead was now on hers, his eyes fixed on their hands, which had become entangled.
"You want us to tell the others? Then move in with me and marry me, let’s fucking make it official." His gaze shot up and met hers.
"Chris will kill you!" she laughed in shock.
"And make his sister a widow? Hardly, besides, your brother loves me." Leon now winked again in his typically relaxed manner, which Claire loved so much.
"Since when?" she laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Since I helped him date Rebecca," he grinned.
"What?!" she looked at him, surprised, "since when does he want something from Rebecca?"
"He can tell you himself," he replied mysteriously, before his voice took on a very dark tone, "And? Do you marry me?"
Claire shook her head, laughing, before she grabbed his face with both hands and pulled him into another kiss: "Yes, Mr Kennedy."
