Glimpse

by TheLadyFrost

Summary:

He can't figure out what he's fighting for. He can't figure out when the fight ends. He can't figure out how to feel anything. He's numb. And he's only getting worse. But a wrong turn and a ghost with a conscience might just have the answers he's been looking for...all his life. If he could just trust himself enough to take a peek.

Notes:

• For Corpasite.

Chapter 1

GLIMPSE:

A Resident Evil Short Story

Starring:

Leon S. Kennedy and Claire Redfield

Guest Starring:

Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Sherry Birkin, Albert Wesker and the Ghost of Ada Wong
....

Part One:

Life Without Umbrella
....

Santa Monica Mountains of Southern California – Present Day

The shiver of the rubble left him breathless. He couldn't move. He couldn't even pretend to want to move. He was nearly numb, nearly lost, nearly forgotten.

He was pretty sure this was the end of his life.

This is how he died, buried beneath what was left of Raccoon City. He'd come here for a reckoning, he was leaving in a body bag. There was no more fight now. There was no more light.

There was only the darkness that left him cold.

Cold.

The cold was all he knew anymore.

Outside of Raccoon City - 1998

"I have to find my brother."

"I know that."

"I-" She touched is face. The first real time she'd touched him since the longest night of their lives had started. She touched his filthy face with an expression on hers that was pure regret, "I…I'm sorry. I just…"

She glanced at the little girl asleep on the bench beside them. Their eyes met over her and he gave the girl in the Made in Heaven motorcycle jacket her walking papers, "Go. Go on. I've got her. I'll wait here until the Feds show up. Go on. Hurry. I'll find you when I'm done."

Claire paused. She hesitated. She glanced at his mouth.

Yeah, he thought, kiss me goodbye.

But she didn't. She ran to find her brother and the world he knew became a nightmare. They took Sherry, they blackmailed him into serving, and Claire Redfield disappeared out of his life.

Rojo La Muerte, Spain - 2004

The troll was defeated. It collapsed, in a cacophonous roar, to the earth at his feet.

He shook, he stumbled, he fell to his knees to heave – a dry heave that vomited nothing but pain from his lungs and chest to the ground – and the white wolf stood in the swirling dust to watch him.

Leon eyed it, trembling, and he whispered, "My hero."

The wolf paced, blue eyes neutral, considering.

Leon felt something shift in his guts with it.

Leon queried, softly, "What do you know? What do you see?"

No answer.

The wolf woofed once, softly, and padded away into the rainy dark.

Harvardville – 2005

"Next time we bump into each other, let's hope it's someplace a little more…." He laughed lightly, "Normal?"

"Normal?" Claire mused, eyes twinkling, "What's normal?"

"You got me." The helicopter waited on the other side of the beach. He considered her. The girl who'd fled once in Raccoon. She was watching him. She looked so amused.

She looked…eager.

He considered her and backed up two steps, "Where do you go from here, Claire Redfield?"

She shifted in the sand, looking a little desperate. He got it. He did. He felt it too. He wanted to stay. Ask me to stay, he thought.

She shrugged instead, "The world still needs saving right?"

He kept on backing up. "Looks that way. So normal next time huh?"

"Why not? See ya when it's normal, Mr. Kennedy."

There was no normal in their lives. Their "normal" was a fuck in the ass without lube by weird. It was asinine and obscure and unreal.

Normal?

He couldn't remember the last time he felt anything at all…let alone anything "normal."

Santa Monica, California – Present Day

The slap of skin and forgetting chased him around the room as he collapsed to his side, heaving out labored breaths. The slim, sweaty, slick body of the girl from the mini mart merged with him as she folded atop him, laughing lightly. "Lord…vinyl records, ripped jeans, and cigarettes…and you fuck like that. Who the hell are you?"

It was a good question.

He stared at the shadows on the ceiling.

He didn't know who he was anymore. He hadn't known in some time. He'd just turned Arias in a puddle on the pavement on the Upper East Side. He'd just buried the last of the people who hadn't died in that rubble when Patricio had betrayed them.

He'd just said goodbye to Dr. High Hopes and the BSAA's Golden Boy.

And he was here now. Here. Balls deep in a girl he'd met standing outside the place he'd stopped on his Ducati to grab a pack of Camels and a bottle of Glenlivet. Like James Dean or something, he'd ridden up on his steel steed; one leg thrown over the side, in faded, ripped jeans and scuffed black boots. The leather jacket he wore with the blood still crusty on one arm. The black t-shirt beneath flecked with dirt and sweat.

She'd chewed her lips, in her leather jacket and skinny jeans with the holes in the knees, and queried, "Merry Christmas to me after all. I'm Jenna. How do you feel about free love?"

He'd taken her home to show her all about it.

Who was he?

He was Leon Kennedy, supposedly. He was channeling Hank Moody from Californication some days and fucking pointless pussy while he drank himself into oblivion. But he was still Leon Kennedy.

He lifted the well rolled joint to his lips and inhaled, feeling the mellowing effects of a good hit of Blue Moon, and couldn't seem to care about the emptiness that lay beneath the shallow state of his existence.

He couldn't seem to care.

He'd sat in that bar demanding answers from Chambers and Redfield: What am I fighting for?

There were no answers.

There were no explanations.

He rolled his head to look at the big dark eyes of the girl who'd just ridden his dick like a pro…no answers….and maybe he'd been asking all the wrong questions.

Maybe the better question was: What was worth dying for?

The sweaty girl eyed him with a grin on her perfect face, "Who are you?"

"Who do you want me to be?"

"I don't care. I'm just looking for a stallion, baby."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah."

"….giddy-up."

She laughed and crawled atop him to ride.

The motorcycle whipped down the dark road. He'd dropped Jenna off at that minimart where he'd met her. He'd left her laughing and fulfilled.

He wanted to say he felt the same.

But he mostly just felt…empty.

There was nothing under the emptiness. That was the problem. What was worth dying for?

There were no answers.

He had nothing but questions.

A white streak shot out in front of him as he corned on Mulholland doing eighty-five. A wolf.

A white wolf.

"Fuck!"

The bike kicked. The wolf stopped. It just…stopped. It stopped in the middle of the road and stared at him with ice chip eyes.

He tried to avoid it. He tried to stop. But it wasn't possible to stop when your bike was barreling down the road at a death throttle.

He laid it down, it tore up his leg and his leather jacket as it ate pavement and burned rubber, and it spilled him over the edge of the road. Mullholland…nothing but a drop into the dark. He grabbed on, he missed, and the bike tossed him over the edge of the barrier that was meant to protect him.

He flipped. He felt the world catch fire. He hit the grass and the dirt and smashed into a tree and rolled. He rolled. He rolled and rolled and rolled.

And came to a stop at the bottom of the drop.

No helmet.

Are you kidding? He mused in his head, who wore a helmet at times like this?

The blood spilled out his mouth. His body told him he was dead before he felt it. He didn't feel anything. His arms were twisted around him like a pretzel. The bike was perched atop him like a bird in a nest.

The wolf waited atop the rise, watching him with its silver eyes. Silver and blue.

On a gurgle of blood and breath, Leon whispered, "Why are you stalking me? What do you know?"

The white wolf was there to show him, clearly, what was worth dying for.

Leon gasped, gurgling, "….what do you see?"

He closed his on a small lisp of sound.

There was no white light.

Even that was a lie.

There was nothing in the dark to guide you "home".

"Do you want to know what's worth fighting for?"

"Are you kidding? Show me anything. Anything. Am I dead?"

"Not yet. Or maybe you are. Who's to say?"

Why was his "angel" Ada Wong? Couldn't he even escape her in death?

"Why are you here, Ada? What do you want?"

"Long time, no see, Leon. I'm here for your glimpse."

Misty eyes. Misty lies. Misty sighs. Where the hell was he? The beyond? The end of the end? Where was the fucking white light?

And Ada said, "Time to see what's on the other side, Leon Kennedy. Put down your gun, and look at your life."

He blinked. The weapon in his hand trembled. It tumbled into the mist as he let it go. "Ada? What is this place?"

But she just laughed. She laughed.

And kissed his mouth.

The mists swirled into him and stole his pain away.

She was licking his face.

Which…was weird. It was totally weird. It was odd indeed. Although not unpleasant.

She was licking his face.

And then she said, "Take her outside, Leon. She wants to go out." In a sleepy and quiet voice.

He cracked an eye. He was staring, now into Ada Wong's fathomless ones, but into the muzzle of a very, very, very big malamute. She was white and gray and had big blue eyes. She was watching him raptly…and licking his face.

The voice behind him said, again, "Take her out, Leon. Ok?"

He shifted in the sheets, trying to figure out what was missing here. Something was off, clearly, but what? What the hell was going on?

There was something curled against his back. It was warm. There was a foot draped over his hip with red toes. He stared at it for a moment and his eyes shifted, subtly, to the belly beside the foot.

He blinked.

He blinked again.

His hand lifted to touch the belly. His belly?

No.

It wasn't his belly.

HIS BELLY was not…soft. This belly? It was soft. Not fat, no exactly, but soft. Where the fuck was his six pack!? He sat up in the bed, abruptly, dislodging the foot.

And the voice said, "…shit, what? What is it?"

He rolled his head to the face of the voice.

And Claire Redfield was in bed beside him in gray sweat pants, a stained yellow t-shirt with the Cheerios logo across the chest, and hair sticking up in wild ways around her sleepy face. She was also watching him like he might have, at some point, sprouted a second head.

"Leon?"

He pointed at her, accusatory, "….why are you here?"

Her brows arched and a smile split her face, "Philosophically? Metaphorically? Scientifically? Which answer do you want?"

He shook his head and glanced around the room. A small bedroom with inexpensive furniture and scratched hard wood floors. There was a door to one side showing a shower and a small bathroom with blue tile. His eyes shot down again to his belly.

As he was sitting, a little band of skin had decided to roll over his plaid sleeping pants.

Horrified, he looked at Claire, "….I'm fat!?"

Claire looked bright eyed and so amused it hurt a little, "…um…not even close. But I think you can blame the beer for the belly, if that's what you're implying."

"I let myself get fat!?" His voice was high pitched and embarrassing, sure, but he didn't care. He couldn't care. He had dad bod! He was FAT. What kind of hell had he woken up in?!

Could this get any worse?!

He pointed at Claire agtain, "What did you do to me!? Hmm? You let me turn into a tubbo!? This is your fault!"

Oh, her face. It was all big blue eyes beneath the shaggy crop of her crazy hair, "I did? Me? I forced the Ben and Jerry's Chubby Hubby on you at night when you get home? That's me? I did that? I put the Bud Light in your hand? Me?"

Oh, dear god.

He was a guy who ate ice cream and drank cheap beer.

What kind of plebian seventh circle of torment was this!?

And Claire added, "It might be all the pizza too, hot stuff, just sayin."

Oh…sweet mary mother of fuck. He ate carbs.

HE ATE CARBS.

It was official.

He was not Leon Kennedy. He was, however, apparently in a horrible nightmare where he was a normal dude in a badly decorated bedroom with….

His eyes shifted to her. She was scratching her belly watching him. Her face was soft and her smile so happy. She looked rested in a way he'd never seen her. Her belly was soft and smooth and flat. There was the shine of something on it as she shifted and dropped her shirt. He wanted to lift it up completely and see the breasts that were barely hidden beneath the cloth.

He was in bed with Claire Redfield.

She took his hand and tugged it to her mouth to kiss it, smiling at him. "What's with you this morning? You ok?"

And there it was.

The brush of metal. Hers. His.

Metal.

Rings.

Matching platinum rings as she blended their fingers. Rings. On their left hands.

He whispered, "….we're married."

And she grinned, "That's the rumor."

His heart. His heart was beating so hard. But he whispered, "How long?"

And she grinned again, "You're so silly. How many times are you gonna joke about this? Eight years in a few weeks, you little jerk."

Oh. LORD.

His hand grabbed the remote and clicked the button. The television on their cheap dresser, half hidden by a bobble head of Mr. Magoo and a stuffed pickle, flickered on. It was a happy faced reporter in the cold air while music and laughter swirled behind her.

She laughed as well, signaling someone off screen, "What a parade, John! I'm telling you – people here in Raccoon City are NOT letting 2006 go quietly into the good night! We're gonna celebrate this Christmas with a BANG."

The parade behind her was loud and excited. People danced in heavy jackets while plumes of cooking meat on grills wafted into the frigid air.

Leon trembled on the bed, "….2006."

Claire sat up finally, concern on her face now, "Baby? What?"

He glanced at her face, shaking, "Raccoon City?"

She tilted her head, like a dog, watching him, "Baby…what? You ok? You're acting…"

The door to the bedroom opened. Leon reached for the headboard where he usually kept his piece, but it wasn't there. Of course not. This wasn't his place. This wasn't his time. This wasn't his world.

He was in Raccoon City but there were no zombies. There was no destruction. There was no death here.

There were, however, children.

A little boy in skinny pajamas stood in the door of their bedroom. He had crazy red hair and big blue eyes. He was holding an infant in a cute little pink sleeper. She was sucking on his nose.

Claire grinned, "Hey guys! Merry Christmas!"

And the boy grinned back. His grin.

HIS.

His face with Claire's crazy hair.

Oh my god.

And the boy said, "Merry Kissmas!" In an adorable little lisp. He was probably five. He was fucking adorable. The baby in his arms was maybe six months old. Pretty with a shock of white blonde hair.

Holy hell.

The boy brought the baby to the bed and Claire took her, tossing her a little to make her giggle. The malamute jumped on the bed to get in the middle of the laughter and hugging and kissing. Leon slid off the bed and grabbed the sweatshirt emblazoned with U-MASS on the navy front. He threw it on, the hook tangling around his face while he spun a bit to loosen it.

He stuffed his feet into boots beside the dresser and Claire called, "Baby? Coffee. Ok? BLACK."

He ran for the stairs.

Fuck coffee, he was fleeing. He was fleeing fast and far away and never looking back.

On the stairs, he ran into Chris Redfield.

The big guy oomphed and caught his arms. "What the fuck, Kennedy, slow down. Where's the fire?"

And Leon gasped, "I need…your keys. Please. Keys? Keys now."

Chris arched a brow, "What? No. Drive your own fucking Jeep."

Right. He had a car. Sure. He had a BEER BELLY and also a car. Leon scrambled down the steps. A two story house…where? It was pretty yellow paint in the kitchen and kid drawings on the fridge. It was a table laden with books and graphs and pencils and crayons. Toys were hanging out all around the living room to his right and the big fat fur tree covered in popcorn and lights.

The couch was plaid and red and covered in a blank atop the body of a sleeping, and snoring, teenager. Leon blinked, narrowed his eyes, and realized the teenager was Sherry. Sherry -sleeping on his couch. What…the figgety fuck!?

A key holder in the shape of a rooster was hanging on the wall by the door. Leon grabbed the ones with the lightsaber for a keychain (clearly his) and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror hanging on the wall by the door.

Him.

Ok.

OK. That was him. Still him. The hair? Still him.

Thank god, for small miracles.

He grabbed the door handle and jerked it open, running into the cold. The snow was thick and the cold immediate. Raccoon City. He was IN RACCOON CITY.

HE WAS IN HELL.

He grabbed the door handle of the black jeep, jerked it open and Chris shouted, "Where the fuck are you going, you idiot?!"

And Leon jumped in the Jeep.

He fired it up, Jill Valentine walked by carrying a box full of brightly colored gifts, and had a HUGE fat belly clearly full of Redfield spawn, and Leon felt the world fracture again.

He gunned the engine, whipped the Jeep into the street, and shot off into the cold air.

Chris sighed, watching him go and took the box of gifts from his pregnant wife, "Great. The roads are shit and the world's worst driver is fleeing down them like he's running from the scene of the crime. What the hell is wrong with that guy?"

Jill laughed, lightly, and pointed up. Above them, mistletoe was dangling. "Maybe he was afraid you'd try to kiss him."

Chris chuckled and kissed her instead, "He wishes. But then he'd fall in love with me and my sister would kill me, so it's best that he ran away."

"Clearly."

Fleeing down the slick streets, Leon Kennedy was a man on a mission. He didn't know what yet. Or where. OR WHO. OR WHY. But he was on a mission.

To find out what kind of parallel dimension he'd stepped into. He'd run off the cliff and died and come back from the dead in Raccoon City. It was hell. Clearly. He was in suburban hell.

He was married with kids and fat in suburbia….and being punished.

Why? WHY? WHY!?

From the seat beside him, Ada Wong said, "You know why. You asked for a purpose. You wanted to know what you're fighting for. This is it."

Leon shouted in surprise, jerked the wheel to stay on the road, and sent the Jeep careening through the field beside him. He barely missed a cow (what kind of nightmare was this!?) and the Jeep hit some ice, spun three hundred and sixty degrees in a circle to barely missed crashing into a tree as it came to a stop in the frozen grass.

Beside him, Ada Wong mused, "Was that necessary?"

Leon threw his head back, gasping for air. The engine ticked. The world was his sharp gasping and the tick tick tick of the cooling Jeep. "….what the hell is happening Ada? Why are you here? You're dead. I watched it happen."

She laughed, lightly, and turned to face him in her pretty red parka with her pretty sparkling eyes. "And yet here I am. How is that possible, you ask? Oh come on, Mr. Genius IQ, you know why I'm here. This is it, Leon Kennedy, this is your answer."

"….my answer to what?" He whispered it, turning his head on the rest to look at her. "To what?"

"To the reason you're fighting. To what would have happened if you'd never had to. To what you'd be if you'd never picked up the gun that day in Raccoon City to face the end of times. This is it."

He breathed, watching the cows moo and loll about in the frozen grass beyond his windshield.

And he answered, softly, "What the hell is this, Ada?"

"Don't you know, Leon?" She tilted her head, she gestured to the swirling cube hanging on his mirror with the pictures of the kids and Claire. Happy, he thought, they all looked so fucking happy. And Ada added, grinning, "Leon Kennedy…this? It's your Jimmy Stewart moment. It's your Ghost of Christmas Possibility. It's…." She considered her next words, sighing and laughed lightly, "It's your glimpse."

The cow mooed and eyed him like it might consider rushing the Jeep and mowing him down.

His glimpse?

He wasn't up to his eyebrows in the dead. He wasn't fighting for his life against the mutated or the murdering maw of a million monsters. It was just beer bellies, and babies, and diapers and diarrhea. It was "normal". His glimpse wasn't a millionaire with a model on each arm and a kidney shaped pool filled with coke and cookies.

No.

The American dream right? The little two story crackerjack house in the burbs and the pretty wife with the adorable kids. It should have been a glimpse into a perfect life.

Instead?

He wasn't entirely sure, but it felt more like he'd once again entered the world of survival horror.

Chapter 2

GLIMPSE:

A Resident Evil Short Story
.....

Starring:

Leon S. Kennedy and Claire Redfield
.....

Guest Starring:

Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Sherry Birkin, Albert Wesker and the Ghost of Ada Wong
....

Part Two:

The Executioner

Raccoon City - 2006
.....
When face to face with a cow, one has a moment to consider the nature of their existence. For Leon Kennedy, the question of his was staring him in the face currently chewing cud.

It was possibly angry. It was probably aggressive. If he leapt from the Jeep to run, would it pursue him?

He'd faced an entire village of Ganado in Spain once...he was not nearly as scared then as he was now.

In the seat beside him, the dead visage of the former spy was smirking at him. He rolled his head on the seat and looked at her. "Am I dead?"

She laughed, lightly, "Do you feel dead?"

He considered this, carefully. He glanced at his face in the mirror above the windshield. Reclining, slumped as he was, there was something horrifying looking back at him from that visor. The start of a double chin.

He whispered, "I will be soon if my arteries have anything to say about it. You make me fat?"

Ada laughed again, eyes twinkling, "I'm your spirit guide, not your chef. You made yourself fat I'm afraid."

He rolled his head, sighing, "What happened here? And how long am I trapped in it?"

Ada shrugged, considering the cow as it moved over near the driver side, still eyeballing the former rookie cop. Leon stiffened, waiting to see if it would go all Jurassic Park on him and try to knock the Jeep over.

"Until you learn what you need to learn. Isn't that the point of these things? To teach a grand lesson, have an epiphany, and discover the truth?"

Leon sighed, dramatically, "I'd rather be back on top of Jenna with my joint and my scotch, Ada. I had an epiphany there too, and it got tossed in the trash when I took the rubber off."

Ada rolled her eyes, laughing, "You're a miserable wretch, Leon Kennedy. A mess. Two steps from suicide by liver failure. This glimpse is a gift. Use it well. And when you wake up in the hospital when this is over, turn your life around and really live it for once."

Leon watched her for a long moment, "Who am I here, Ada? I'm not me. I don't understand any of this."

"You are you. You're still you. You're just the you that didn't become an agent. There was no outbreak. There was no viral warfare. There was only a baby cop in Raccoon who met a pretty girl that came to the RPD to see her brother...fell in love. And started a life."

Leon shook his head, watching the cow meander away. "I don't know how to be that guy."

Ada shrugged, looking unconcerned, "You're a genius, they say. Figure it out."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Well...you're also the worst driver in the world. Keep fucking this up long enough, you'll crash and burn. And it'll be done. Your choice."

It wasn't much of one.

But, apparently, it was the only one he had.

"You gonna show up when I need you?"

Ada smirked a little, "You ever known me to be predictable?"

He glanced over but she was gone. Nope. She was never that.

Apparently, neither was his life.

He steered the Jeep into the driveway. Chris was standing on the porch smoking. Chris - the Human Tank - apparently not that at all now. He was still huge. Apparently, some things didn't change, but he looked young somehow and happy. No scars. No lines around his eyes to talk about grief. No signs of drinking too much and denying his needs.

He'd marred Jill. Which...was like finding out he had two heads.

And Jill was fat with the spawn of his loins.

Which...was like finding out he was also Darth Vader. It didn't seem possible. Redfield with kids?

Wait...wait...WAIT. HIM with kids? Leon Kennedy with kids!? What the hell was happening here?

He stepped out of the Jeep. The door opened and the small boy came out. "DAD! Where ya been!? You missed Santa!"

LORD.

Where was he?

In the seventh circle of hell, clearly.

Leon smiled shakily. He eased up the walk way. Redfield continued to watch him like a hawk. The kid threw himself bodily at Leon for a big hug. "I love my BIKE, Dad! I love it! Come see!"

He hurried back inside.

Leon started past and Chris threw a big hand against his chest. They were shoulder to shoulder, eyeing each other. Chris mused, softly, "Get your shit together, Kennedy. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Leon shook his head, sighing, "Looooong story."

"Put a fucking smile on your face, you scrooge, it's Christmas."

Right.

Christmas.

WITH HIS FAMILY.

Lord.

He stepped into the house and the laughter followed him as he tried to find his way through a house that was his but wasn't. The kitchen was filled with familiar faces now. It was Jill and Rebecca Chambers. It was BILLY COEN - the convict that had gone MIA after Raccoon who was not, apparently, a convict at all but WAS Rebecca's husband.

It was Barry and his wife and kids. It was BRAD VICKERS - not dead, but still stupid, making arm pit farts. All of the long dead STARS. It was MARVIN BRANAGH who Leon had watched die in the RPD. Kevin Ryman the rest of the rag tag band he'd led out of Raccoon were all there. There was Chief Irons and his wife and the MAYOR.

Who in the HELL was Chris that all these fucking people were th-

And then the hall bathroom door opened and the worst one came out.

The worst one.

Leon shouted so loud that it had all the laughter and talking come to a screeching halt.

"ALBERT WESKER!"

Wesker stopped, blinking, wearing NO SUNGLASSES and looking startled. He was in a pair of jeans and a blue polo shirt. He was not looking sinister at all.

He was staring like an owl at Leon though.

And Leon shouted, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE!?"

He answered, without hesitation, "I was urinating. Is this not permitted?"

Ok. So...apparently Wesker was not the bad guy here. The series of faces staring at him said he was probably crazy though. Sherry was leaning on the wall watching him. She had pink streaks in her hair and a lip piercing. She mused, "Dude...you ok, man? You been hitting the bong again without me?"

From behind Wesker, Claire - in a pretty red sweater and jeans - gave Leon a look that would fell a lesser man. "Sorry, Al. Seriously. I don't know what the hell is wrong with him today. Leon? A minute?"

Wesker shrugged, studying Leon shrewdly, "Perhaps you should consider a cardiovascular routine, Mr. Kennedy. It would help with controlling your stress level. Endorphins create feelings of contentment...as well as hone the physique."

OH MY GOD. Albert Wesker was calling him fat. It was officially the worst day of his life.

He shook his head and moved passed Wesker. Sherry grabbed his arm and muttered, "Dude...don't bogart the weed. Where'd you stash it? You know the warden hates when we toke up when she's around."

Yep. He was a fat, pot smoking house husband. Did he even have a JOB!? Did he do anything but eat ice cream, smoke weed, and drink beer? Apparently, not.

Leon shook his head and moved past her.

Claire took his arm and, not so gently, tugged him into the small study off the main living room. She closed the door and tilted her head at him, "What in the world is going on with you?"

He answered, desperately, "Claire...CLAIRE...this is gonna sound nuts...it is...but bear with me here. I'm...not me."

She raised both brows.

"Ok. I'm...not me exactly. Not really. This? Not me." He raised his shirt to show his belly, "Where's my six pack, Claire?"

She sighed, "Don't start. It's in the fridge. I told you that."

He shook his head, "No. No. Listen - I'm not a pudgy suburban dad."

"Damnit, Leon. Not this again. Not today. As stupid as this diatribe usually sounds, I'm not in the mood for it today." She shook her head at him and paced the little study.

His eyes slid over it. Bookshelves covered in books of all subjects. A desk with pens and various things. There was a nerf basketball hoop draped over the back of the door. There was a small leather arm chair with a dog earred copy of the Catcher in the Rye waiting there to be read.

This was his study. He could feel it. THIS? This was the first place that felt like him.

He tried again, gently, "I'm sorry. I am. I know it seems crazy. But...this isn't my life, Claire. It's not me. I don't know what's going on, but I don't belong here."

She surprised him. He expected her to explode with anger.

Instead?

"I hate when you talk like that. I hate it. Stop saying stuff like that. I don't care who your Dad was. You belong with me, you big idiot, you always have."

She turned and pushed him. His back hit the door and her hands went right up under his sweatshirt. She, apparently, liked his fat dad bod just fine. She curled her fingers in his little bit of chest hair, tugged, and plastered her mouth to his.

Ok.

So...there were benefits to this "glimpse" of his. He'd always wondered what she tasted like. Now he knew: strawberry lip balm and cinnamon. His hands came up to grab her face. He tunneled his fingers into her hair and tilted her face up.

It was his fake life, after all, and this one of the perks apparently.

He kissed her like he'd finally find what was missing in her mouth. It spilled fast and heavy between them. Claire made a small mewl and he dipped, scooping her against him. Leon turned her to slam her against the wall and make her gasp with it. He kissed her slick and needy, tongue and twisting fingers in her hair. Her leg came up to wrap around his hip. She kinda humped all over him and gripped his butt.

He came up for air, scooping her shaggy bangs back to see her face. She had her eyes closed, rubbing at his ass. He whispered, quietly, "...you're beautiful, Claire."

It sounded a little awe inspired. It was. It really was. He added, "I mean...you were always a very cute girl, there's no question of that. But you've...turned into a stunning woman."

Gasping, she nibbled at his jaw. "This is good stuff, Kennedy. Romance. Keep it coming."

He tilted her face back up and plumbed her mouth again, questing now, tasting. His eyes stayed open on her face, watching her reactions. She fluttered her thick lashes. She liked to suck his tongue. She answered it by sweeping hers into his mouth.

And she paused.

She stopped.

He watched surprise shoot over her pretty pink skin.

She made a small sound of confusion and drew back to see his face. They were both flushed and panting.

Her eyes were hooded and her voice cracked a little, "...what was that?"

He licked her mouth and stole her breath with it. She trembled. His voice was gruff and hoarse when he answered, "What was what?"

"...it felt like...that was...it..."

He knew what she was trying to say. It felt like a first kiss. Because it was. It was. For him. She'd been kissing his doppelganger for years apparently in this weird third dimension of hers. But him?

He'd never even tried to touch her.

Now?

He didn't want to do anything but touch her.

She whispered, "How do you do that?"

He skimmed her mouth with his thumb. She softened like butter his arms. "Do what?"

She caught his face and echoed him, stroking his mouth. "...look at me like you haven't been doing it everyday for the last eight years."

A good question.

An easy answer: he hadn't.

He said nothing. Claire gasped and pushed at him, "What are we doing here? Groping like horny kids when we have a house full of guest." She laughed lightly.

She seperated herself from him and paused, staring at him for a long moment. He tilted his head, watching her. She shook herself like a dog coming out of water. "Later, hotshot, later with the long looks. Lord. Can't remember the last time you touched me like that. You're really on a roll today with the weird behavior."

Well...that was fucking insulting as hell. For a man who was a literal Lothario of the ladies, who was RENOWNED for his lovemaking skills. Who was known for leaving you fulfilled and fanning your face...he'd become a LAZY bed mate. He was Don Juan de Dumbass. He'd stopped fucking his wife like a champ and started being a two pump chump apparently.

It just kept getting worse: he was a two pump chump with a fat gut.

He shook his head, laughing with derision. "Yeah, enough of that shit."

Claire nodded sagely, "I agree. Get it together."

She started out of the room and he hooked an arm around her and dragged her back. She went, making a little hmm hmm sound of happiness. He kissed her breathless, making her cling and coo against him, and let her go. "Yeah, enough of that. Get these people out of this house, Claire, so I can put my mouth all over you."

Her face flushed red. Her hands gripped at his butt to rub him against her. "Hoooo...hah...ok. So...that's ok. That weirdness is good. Keep that thought. DWELL there. Christmas cookies be damned! Give me the cock!"

He laughed, charmed by her. He liked the shaggy chin length hair on her too. It suited her face. He wanted to touch her alot. But not with a house full of fucking people beyond the door.

He was, however, going to redeem himself. His lazy other version was done here. He was going to fuck her bowlegged, get on fucking treadmill, and fix this shit: pronto.

He started to follow her back to the party and something on the book shelf had him freezing in place.

Eyes wide, he moved toward it. It was a trophy of some kind with his name on it.

But it wasn't a fucking marksman trophy. Oh no. Not that. Nope.

It was a goddamn bowling trophy.

"Leon S. Kennedy:

The Executioner -

Leading the Raccoon City Tyrants to 12 straight victories and achieving the fastest ever 300 game - 12 strikes in 92 seconds.

Leon Kennedy - killing it."

He stared. He just kept on staring.

He was a fat, bad in bed, surburban husband who was the best bowler in the world.

He couldn't help it.

He just started to laugh.

He went out the study door into the backyard of the house. It was covered in snow. It was filled with laughing kids. Who's? Barry's - which he recognized: Moira and Polly.

His - the boy - with the red hair and the big eyes. He watched the kid play and laugh. He finally turned and waved, "Hey Dad! HEY!"

The little boy raced at him. Polly, Barry's daughter, yelled, "Ben! Wait!" And inadvertently gave him his own son's name.

Leon knelt to catch the kid as he launched into him. The boy laughed and kissed him with cold lips. He grinned and flashed white teeth missing the bottom one. "I farted on Polly."

Leon snorted a little, "What would you Mom say?"

"...to apologize." He sounded sad about it. Who could blame him? Leon patted his head, awkwardly.

The little boy leaned back to study his face. They engaged in a long stare down. A handsome fucking kid. His face with Claire's hair. Whatever else was true, his useless balls made good looking offspring. Apparently they weren't any good at fucking, so at least they were good for something.

Ben narrowed his eyes at him. Leon narrowed his back.

Ben let him go, considering things. It was pretty intelligent for a kid. And he said, "You wanna see me do a back flip?"

Laughing, Leon shrugged, "Sure. Show me what ya got."

Ben ran out into the snow and danced. Polly was kind enough to race over and fart on him, making his shriek with laughter, and then the little boy executed a pretty decent back flip.

Amused, Leon eased down the porch into the snow.

"Not bad. You wanna see something pretty cool though?"

The kids eyed him happily. Ben asnwered, "You bet!"

"I can do three in a row."

Moira scoffed. Polly looked thrilled. Ben looked rather judgmental.

"No you can't Dad. You can't even do a cartwheel."

Leon paused. He froze. He considered that. What if it was true? He wasn't himself after all. Maybe he was...clumsy. Maybe he wasn't able to do a goddamn back flip. It hadn't crossed his mind. None of this had. It was fucking surreal.

Determined, he rolled his neck and shoulders. "Sure I can. Ready?"

"...oooook." Ben said in a sing song voice, "Be careful though. You p'obably get peety hurt, Dad. Just sayin."

Polly clapped happily.

Moira looked pretty interested. He could see the older version of her like a shadow on her young self.

Leon braced. He winked.

And he back flipped.

But he didn't.

Not even a little bit.

He went up, he went over, and he went right down on his face in the snow.

The kids shrieked with laughter.

He laid there for a long moment, frozen. He couldn't do it. The kid was right. He rose, shaking with anger now, and the ran across the yard. The kid was right about this too - he couldn't even do a fucking cartwheel.

He tried and fell, getting more excited laughter.

They thought he was playing around.

He wished to GOD he was.

On the heels of the revelations that he was useless, bad in bed, and fat - the last of the horrifying thoughts hit him. What if he couldn't shoot either?

He turned and fled into the house while the kids laughed and cheered. His heart was hammering so hard. He moved into his study. He dug in the desk. He dug through the closet. Nothing. No gun.

No safe.

No evidence of anything.

He hit the stairs listening to laughter and merriment. He ignored it all.

He went into the bedroom and jerked open the closet door. He dug through it, looking for a lock box or a gun cabinet or anything. Nothing. Nothing. NOTHING.

He knew how to test the theory though. He knew.

He ran for the stairs and hurried down them.

Redfield was in the kitchen, cuddled up behind Jill and swaying. His hands were stroking her belly while she happily chatted with Wesker. Wesker had some woman on his arm. And worse?

His kid was there with them.

JAKE. The kid that would later have the anomaly in his blood to save the world.

Jake - who looked like a pissed off toddler at the moment throwing peas. He was on the hip of the woman with Wesker, looking sour faced and angry.

Leon shook aside the horror of his world - so simple and normal - and grabbed for Redfield's pockets. Chris shouted when his hand went right into his jeans and grabbed his keys. "HEY! You fucking pervert, what the hell are you doing in there?"

"Shut up, idiot. Shut up."

Jill chuckled happily, "I usually like to watch when a hot guy feels up my husband, Leon. Just sayin."

Chris rolled his eyes, "You would, you voyeur."

She winked and turned her mouth to kiss him as Leon ran away with Chris' truck keys. "You better go check on him, babe, before he takes your truck and drives off."

"...holy shit, he'll wreck it. The dumb shit." Chris let go of her and hurried after him.

Leon was digging around in his glovebox, muttering, his butt hanging out of the cab of the big Silverado.

Chris paused, eyeing him, "What the hell man? What is this shit?"

Leon grabbed the pistol in the glovebox and jerked it out, clearing and chambering it in a series of rapid movements. Chris shot his eyes into his hair, "Nice man. I haven't seen you handle one in years. Like riding a bike huh?"

That's what he'd been afraid of.

THAT.

Leon shook his head and ran out into the woods beside the house. Chris followed him, shouting, "HEY! What are you doing!?"

What the hell? Was he going to go kill himself? Kennedy was a fucking nut on a good day. Today? He was acting like 12 kinds of crazy. He was a step away from getting him a straight jacket and a trip to a padded cell.

Leon got winded running.

He got winded running a quarter of a mile into the woods.

JESUS CHRIST.

Breath hitching, he finally stopped and aimed at the big cypress across the clearing. Chris came up beside him, not winded at all- the bastard.

Leon aimed, adjusting. He puffed out white clouds from his mouth as he breathed in and out. Surely this was just something in his goddamn bones. Surely, this was just something he could do no matter what body he inhabited.

Surely.

He pulled the trigger.

The bullet whizzed off into the great beyond.

Chris chuckled, "Fail. What do you expect? You have to practice sometimes man. Just sayin."

Leon lowered the gun. His hands trembled. He'd missed. A tree. He'd missed a tree. A non mobile object bigger than a house. He'd missed from less than twenty yards.

He offered the pistol back to Chris. He stared into gray sky beside the tree. "...what the hell happened to me man?"

Chris lifted a brow, studying him, "What kinda question is that?"

"What am I now? I was...a cop right? I was a cop." That part was still true. He knew that. Ada had told him that.

Chris laughed, lightly, "Yeah. For one whole day. And then your Dad got sick."

His Dad. His Dad got sick. His Dad - the former cop turned gym teacher that had been a drunk all Leon's life and basically a waste of space. His Dad had gotten sick.

And Leon had quit being a cop to take care of him, clearly. Clearly.

He was desperately afraid he knew what he'd become instead of a bad ass agent. He whispered, "...where do I work?"

Chris laughed, rolling his eyes, "You know where you work, dumb ass. Congrats by the way, Claire said the promotion came through. Should we start calling you Mr. Principle? How's Sherry like being a senior with you as the Big Cheese?"

He was a mother fucking TEACHER.

He was a fat, bad in bed, clumsy, out of shape loser who bowled a perfect game, couldn't shoot, didn't know how to do a damn cartwheel or fuck his wife apparently - lived in the burbs and was a fucking principle.

The Big Cheese. THE BIG CHEESE. All he needed was a fake eye to be a complete failure.

This wasn't a glimpse - it was purgatory. He'd come here to roast in the fires before they delivered him to hell. He was a joke. He was a shadow.

It was glimpse alright. A glimpse into his own private hell.

He'd traded being a champ - for being a chump.

Chapter 3

GLIMPSE:

A Resident Evil Short Story
.......
Starring:

Leon S. Kennedy and Claire Redfield
.......
Guest Starring:

Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Sherry Birkin, Albert Wesker and the Ghost of Ada Wong
......

Part Two:

Maniac

Raccoon City - 2006
.......

Chris was less worried about him as they went back to the house. He was more sedate, seemed calmer, probably because he was half convinced he was dead inside. This was what the world thought would be more to his liking. THIS. This was his life now.

He was a teacher, in a town that was utterly normal. He was the adoptive parent of Sherry Birkin - a quick question to Chris netted him the reason why that was the case as well. Apparently Sherry's parents had dumped her off when they'd fled the country. Claire had petitioned for adoption after seeing her at the police station, alone and unwanted.

He had two children of his own - Ben, the boy...and baby. He didn't know the baby yet. He knew the baby was blonde and cute. Was it a girl baby? It was probably a girl baby. It had his hair and Claire's eyes. He'd been a toe head when he was young, after all.

He paused at the window as they moved up the porch. He was overweight, he was out of shape, he was a newly appointment principle at the highschool where his father had held the same job for years. His father had died after a lengthy battle with cancer. It had happened after Raccoon the first time as well, but he'd been so deep undercover for USSTRATCOM that he hadn't known about it for almost three months.

He couldn't shoot. He couldn't fight. He couldn't fuck. He was just a dude. Just a regular dude in a world gone wrong. He couldn't do a damn thing but go back in that house and deal with it.

He wasn't Leon Kennedy anymore. That's just the way it was. He couldn't sit around bitching. It wouldn't change a thing.

Albert Wesker caught sight of him and mused, "Better, Mr. Kennedy? Of course, frequent cardiovascular activity would improve your lung function. So you wouldn't return from a short sprint so winded."

Albert Wesker was in his house giving him workout advice. Apparently, they were acquaintances. Friends seemed...a long stretch here. But he was friendly enough that they were chilling on Christmas together.

He couldn't keep worrying about stuff like that. He couldn't care.

He wasn't a bad ass secret agent in a bio terror game of life and death anymore. He couldn't keep clinging to the past. He'd been granted a chance to see the other side. It was a GIFT.

Claire called, "Babe? Can you get another case of beer from the basement?"

He was just a husband. He could do this. He could.

He made it halfway down the stairs when he caught sight of the basement itself. Some kind of man cave. It was a Barcalounger and a big screen t.v. It was a basket to one side where Claire was knitting some kind of blanket for the baby. It was a big freezer in the corner and a fridge to one side stocked with drinks. There was a Playstation parked on the console in midgame.

He moved toward it and hit the start button.

The game popped up and it was a creepy voice announcing, "Reeeesident Eeeeevil...foooour."

Curious, Leon picked up the controller. It was a weird eyeball rolling in a naked socket for a second before it popped up the main character.

He froze, blinking. The guy looked a HELL of a lot like him. He was running around the rural countryside in a stupid looking jacket with a single handgun. The game kept his attention as he fought through...his own life. It nearly stole his breath. How? How in the hell?

There was Sera and Ashley. There was enormous trolls and huge lake monsters. He ducked and rolled and blasted things. It was HIM. It was his fucking life.

From the stairs, Claire queried, "Babe? What's taking so long?"

He shook his head, feeling the tremble of fear. What was real? Was he real? Was this life his real life? Was his memory before this...nothing but a video game?

He pointed at the screen, "Where...where's the other games?"

"The other Resident Evil (copyright Capcom) games?"

"Yeah. I need...I need to just..." He shifted and dug through cases. And there was his life. Their lives. Their past.

It was Mansions and Necropolises and Death. But it wasn't them. The characters in the game were WRONG. Elza Walker instead of Claire Redfield. Rick Grimes instead of Leon Kennedy. Who the fuck was Rick Grimes!?

It wasn't Jill and Chris in the mansion. Wesker wasn't the bad guy. It was some guy named Ark Thompson and a girl named named Fiona Belli. It was all WRONG. It was just wrong.

He dropped the controller and moved to pick up the beer. Claire was watching him so strangely, "You ok, honey?"

Leon nodded, forcing a smile, "Yup. I'm good. Just...having one of those mornings right? I woke up feeling like Jimmy Stewart or something."

Claire smiled and rubbed his butt as she passed him. "I hear ya. Holidays make us all nuts."

"No kidding." He followed her perfect ass up the stairs, shaking his head. What did he do? He gave Christmas his best effort. Why not?

What good would it do to sit downstairs and play games and avoid life? This is what he was here for. It was time to start doing it.

He shared a beer with Coen and Rebecca. He listened to Jill talk about Diaper Genies. He played pool with Ryman and Jim Chapman. He snuck off to smoke weed with Sherry (and she mused that he might have to stop being so cool when he started as the principle dude. For real.)

It wasn't a bad day when he stopped feeling like he was accosted by the world's most boring life.

Wesker was weird. He was never NOT uptight, but the woman at his side helped. She was Anita Muller, Jake's mother. She was pretty and smiling. He was not really a good dad, in truth, he was critical and harsh in his response to his little son's outbursts. But Anita had a charming effect on him. She rubbed his back and soothed the beast somehow.

They had a rousing game of Dirty Santa where everyone opened a perverted gift given to them by an anonmyous source. Leon opened a bottle of Viagra and had laughter spilling around the room. Chris hooted, "We've heard about your lack of prowess in the sheets, old man!"

LORD. He was a laughingstock. He was the guy who never fucked. He was a joke.

Claire rubbed his shoulder and defended him, "He's TIRED! He works eighty hour weeks! We have a baby who keeps us up at odd hours! You all leave him alone!"

Yep. He was a joke.

And Ryman mused, "Maybe he could spend a little time on the treadmill too. Tubby couldn't fit in his bowling shirt last week. He had to leave it unbuttoned."

That was it. The fat jokes had to stop. Leon set down his beer, and the laughter swelled. Claire gave him a sad look, "Don't do that. Enjoy your damn beer. Fuck these people."

And Leon sighed, "Apparently, I'm not fucking anyone."

Her lips settled at his ear, "Yeah? The day ain't done, hot stuff."

His tummy shivered. There was THAT. That was good. That was the good stuff. Claire. She was the good about this life.

He lifted his eyes to her face as she laughed at something Rebecca said. She was perched on the arm of the chair where he sat, clutching the slutty lingerie someone had given her. She was his. That was the thing about this life he was in. She was his.

Testing the theory, he tugged the hand on his shoulder. She spilled down to sit on his lap. No thinking. No hesitation. She just looped her arm around his neck and kept on laughing.

Yep. His.

The rest he could fix. He could fix it. He'd just...start living. So he mused, "It could be worse I guess. I could be recovering from the effects of steroids and have a thumb where my dick should be."

The laughter spilled fresh and happy. Redfield gave him the finger. And it got better.

At one point, he was handed the baby. It was a girl. It was content to stare at him and Claire remarked, "Change her would ya, babe?"

Yikes.

Leon rose, moving up toward the family colored bedroom. Surely it was hers. He muttered, "You once fought twelve lickers with just an assault rifle and your bare hands. You can change a damn nappie."

He laid the baby on the changing table, eyeing it. "Don't roll over, ok? Or...jump? Or whatever."

From the doorway, Ben remarked, "She doesn't jump, Dad. You know that."

"Right. Can you...hand me the..." He gestured with his hands to indicate wiping a butt, "The wipe things."

Ben brought him the baby wipes, giving him an odd look. Leon held that gaze even when he opened the diaper, and exclaimed, "Jesus in a red thong..holy...god in heaven high on crack...what the hell is that?"

Without missing a beat, Ben said, "Poop. It's poop."

Right.

Leon slapped a wipe lightly on his daughter's bared bottom, afraid to touch the poop too much. Ben gave him a judging look and remarked, "Front to back, Dad. You can't get poop in her peeps."

Right. DURF. Right.

Leon wiped the baby who eyed him with pretty eyes and giggled. She offered him part of the cracker she was eating which was basically a mushy mess. He shook his head, "Nah, girl. You keep it."

She kept holding it up, determined, so he leaned down and took a mushy bite. It made her just..laugh. Gut rolling, giggling, high pitched happy laughter. She squealed and wiggled, she grabbed his nose to gum it. He figured, why not? And he made monster munching sounds.

It worked like a charm. She just exploded with happiness.

So this...this part was good too. The poop? Terrible. It was so bad. But it was clean now and smelled good. And it liked to laugh.

Personally, he felt like he was a funny guy, but most often his puns drew groans instead of laughter. This small version of him liked his jokes, clearly.

He mused, "Did you know that diarrhea is hereditary?It runs in your genes."

The baby just giggled and wiggled. Yep. She liked his puns. It was two cookies up from her. Ben said, "She needs a new diaper 'afore her pees on you."

Right. That was true as well. Leon gripped one from the weird contraption beside him, after three failed attempts to open the fucking thing that was harder to get into than Fort Knox, and brought it over to the baby.

He lifted her bottom by gently tugging up her legs and slid the diaper under her. But he wasn't sure how it stayed on. Did he need tape or something?

He hesitated and Ben commented, "Pull the tabs Dad."

Naturally.

"Thanks." He did, securing the thing to his daughter. She grinned and he grinned back at her. She grinned wider so he said, "People who tell you that they're constipated are full of crap."

She cooed at him. Yep. Best audience ever.

Ben whispered, "...you're not my Dad, are you?"

Yikes. So the kid was smart. Made sense. He was, after all, the child of a genius. Leon winced and said, "Not exactly. Yes, but no."

Ben nodded, taking a deep breath, "I knew it. I knew it dis morning. It finally happened."

Curious, Leon queried, "What?"

"Da Aliens gotted you."

AH. Ha. Oh lord. Leon nodded, looking pensive, "I am here while they experiment on your Dad. But he's FINE. He's great. He's good." The kid looked like he might cry, "He's good. He'll be back real soon."

Ben nodded and asked, "Can you make Mac and Cheese?"

A good question. Leon answered, "Like a champ. Hotdogs in it?"

Ben nodded, considering him. "Can you play guitar?"

Thank GOD, he still did that apparently, "Yep."

"...do you like kids?"

The baby was listening intently too. Leon glanced between them. He figured they were alright for small versions of adults. So he mused, "Yep. I like you guys. You like puns?"

And the kid replied, "Do clown farts smell funny?"

Yep. Best kid ever.

Leon laughed, shaking his head, "We'll get along just fine, kid."

"I think so,"Ben stuck out his hand to shake, "Welcome to Earth."

It was a helluva Christmas.

When the last well wisher had left, Leon found himself cleaning up. This was a first time experience as well, considering he'd never really done it before. He had maids for that reason.

He washed dishes and put them away. Ben helped him clean up the living room. The baby was asleep by seven and Ben was in bed by eight. At eight fifteen, Claire came running into the bedroom throwing her socks.

He ducked where he was sitting on the bed with a book and missed the first one in the face.

"Hurry!" She urged, closing the bedroom door, "We've got about forty minutes before the first potty episode."

He blinked at her, "Yeah?"

"Yep. Show me whatcha got, hotstuff."

Lord.

She tugged down her jeans, tossing them on the floor. Her curvy hips were perfect and she shed her sweater like it was nothing. The bra was blue, the panties white, the tits perfect.

She had a little scar on her belly from a c-section.

She laughed, shaking her head, "You keep doing that."

A little warm, he breathed, "What?"

"Looking at me like it's the first time. You trying to turn me on?"

"Nope. How's it workin?"

"It's working." She laughed and fisted a handful of his shirt to drag him over, "Hurry hurry. Before somebody wakes up crying."

He tilted her face, looking at her in the low light from the lamp. "You want me?"

Her eyes twinkled, "Always. Come on."

Why not? It was time.

He shucked his shirt as she reached for her clasp on her bra. His hands stopped her, shaking his head, "Slow. Slow down. Let me see you."

She blinked, flushing a little, "You're really doing this romance thing, huh?"

Saddened by that, he answered, "Maybe it's time for a little."

She nodded, sliding her hands up into his hair. "Maybe you're right."

He considered her, appreciating the smooth skin her back and the swan like curve of her neck. His hands caught her hips and he tugged, spilling her onto her belly on the bed. She giggled, wiggling a little, "Yep. I like it."

He put his lips to the back of her neck, whisper soft. She went still. His tongue slid down the curve of her spine and she stopped laughing. When he reached her bra, his hands slid around the front to find the clasp between her breasts.

He tugged her up to her knees on the bed and walked on his knees until he was pressed against her from behind. The clasp gave and his hands caught the spill of her breasts as they were freed into his palms. She made a small sound as he molded her.

So maybe it was the wrong guy in the mirror of the dresser next to the bed, maybe, but the moves were all him. The girl in the mirror was perfect, beautiful and ripe. The bra slid down her arms to be forgotten as she moaned and turned her head. He kissed her, wet and needy.

It was enough of being a joke. The joke was on them. Maybe the other idiot who'd once been in this body was bad in bed. But him? He knew what the fuck he was doing.

His hand slid down and into her panties to feel her. She mewled a little, bucking back against him as he claimed her with questing fingers. She came apart so quickly that he kinda hated his other self because clearly she was hot for it. She was needy. She was passionate. What kind of stupid asshole didn't plow her nightly? What kind of life could they have that left them celibate?

She came all over his hand and gasped into his mouth with it. He flipped her to her back, sliding down her body to put his mouth all over her. Claire made small, desperate sounds. "Oh, god, I thought...oh god..."

He leaned up, looking down at her. His hands skimmed her hips to slide her panties to the side and he played his thumb into the heat of her while she gasped and he asked, "Thought what?"

Her breath hitched as she gasped, "I thought...after the baby...I never really got my body back, ya know? You've been so..." He hooked his thumb higher, she bowed, and her thighs trembled.

And Leon grumbled, "That's done, sweetheart. That's over. Your body is beautiful, Claire. Let me show you."

He shifted her panties to the side to show her. She gripped the headboard, making a small cry of need as he put his face between her legs and worshiped her. She bucked, unable to stay quiet. He hummed, he rolled his tongue, he drowned in the flavor of her.

She was nothing like he'd imagined. She was better. She was perfect and giving and all curves and perfection. His hands played with her breasts as he tasted her, savoring it, and severing the last idea of the guy who didn't give a fuck. What a fucking douche, he admonished his other dimension self, the guy was a bad lay and an idiot.

Well, that was done.

She grabbed the pillow to throw it over her face and groaned, grunting and jerking. Finally, she tossed the pillow and grabbed handfuls of his hair, "I'm gonna come all over you if you don't stop!"

He licked and had her squirming. She dragged him up, scrambling her legs. She grunted, "Panties, hotstuff. Hurry."

He laughed, tugging her panties down her legs. She fumbled for his zipper and he caught a look of himself in the mirror. UGH. UGH. He was something else. A pudgy little guy with good hair.

She caught the line of his eyes and shook her head, "Stop it. Stay with me. Leon!"

He brought his gaze back to her face and she breathed, "Stay with me. Ok?"

He nodded and felt that awe again that she was here. It nearly stole his breath. He answered, "Condom?"

She blinked, looking confused, "Why? You know I can't get pregnant anymore."

And there was another reason things were strained between them. He was sure of it. She'd had their last baby and something had gone wrong. What?

It didn't matter. It wasn't the moment for any of that. She was telling him he could fuck her bareback. He didn't care anymore about anything else.

He bicycled his legs and got rid of his jeans. Claire opened her thighs to him, shaking. "It doesn't matter how long it lasts, ok?"

He nearly froze. There it was. The truth. He was a two pump chump.

Angry, he grabbed her hips to roll them. She gasped, sliding with the movement until she was on top. And Leon murmured, "Take what you want, Claire. As fast as you want, as slow as you want. As long as you want."

She looked a little starry eyed. She was flushed and shaking. She leaned down to kiss him, slow and smooth. "You sure?"

Hoarsely, he answered, "Yeah. Never been more sure of anything in my life. Go."

She went. She mounted him and went slow, sinking and shaking. Shaking. They both were. Because he was beneath her and watching her use him. She was wet and tight and perfect.

She clasped his hands on the headboard with hers and rode.

When she got close enough, he helped himself to a mouthful of her breasts and got sounds of need for it. Hurry, she'd said, but there was none of that. No rush here. No race.

When she started quaking, he rolled her over again. They spilled across the bed and she opened her legs for him. And he rode her instead.

Claire grabbed at him, clutching and bucking, "Oh, god...oh god..." Her mantra. His as well.

He hesitated to come in her, even though he knew she couldn't get pregnant. She must have sensed it because she opened her eyes and whispered, "Fill me up, baby, ok? Fill me up."

That worked. He was done.

He grunted, one hand clutching her throat to drag her to his mouth. He kissed her while he came in her, jerking and gasping. She swallowed it down and held on to him, hands gripping his ass like claws.

So maybe this wasn't his life. But apparently in this one? This was his wife.

He shuddered and tongued her mouth as he finished. She mewled softly and looped him tighter inside her. "Holy god..." She breathed, "I love you."

And he liked that. He liked it. It was the first time he felt like maybe he wasn't just fucking some nameless girl to feel less dead. Maybe he was fucking some perfect girl to feel ALIVE.

His girl. His wife.

Claire.

He said her name and leaned up to look at her, rolling his hips to let her take more of him. "Claire." She gasped, clutching him harder.

"Leon...I missed you."

It was incredible to know he'd missed her too. This is what he'd been missing all along. This. Her. Maybe it wasn't him in this life. Maybe it wasn't really him.

But would he trade that to have her?

So maybe there were things in this life worth sticking around for after all.

Chapter 4

GLIMPSE:

A Resident Evil Short Story

....
Starring:

Leon S. Kennedy and Claire Redfield
....

Guest Starring:

Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Sherry Birkin, Albert Wesker and the Ghost of Ada Wong
.....

Part Four:

Will the real Leon Kennedy please stand up?
....

 

Raccoon City - 2006
.....

The weird thing about waking up in a house that isn't yours, to a life that isn't yours, with a wife that isn't yours...was admitting that there was nothing weird about it at all. It felt good. It felt better than that. It was like waking up to waffles and bacon and boubon on ice and blowjobs every morning. There was nothing better.

The filter of post Christmas sunlight spilled into the room and tucked a glitter of gold over the red hair of the woman curled on her side on the bed. He kept flashing on her face that first night he'd met her - determined and drawn with dedication, she'd shook his world with her courage. She was still here, still shaking it, and making him feel about twelve years old with the want of her.

She had a little tank top tucked over her and small white panties to guard against the chill beneath the blanket that covered them. Leon put his hand on her back, to prove he could, and she sighed in her sleep, murmuring, "It's your morning for the baby, ok?"

Right. The baby. It had a name. He still didn't know it, but it had a name.

And Claire added, "I have a meeting early, about seven. Can you get Ben off to school for me?"

He had no clue where the school was. Clearly, he was going to have to use the "I'm an alien; help me" act to get the boy to tell him. He'd figure it out. He'd once had to fight his way out of a dungeon laced with booby traps and instant death, he could find a pre-school. Surely.

But for now?

Claire murmured, sleepily, "Coffee? Babe? Coffee. Please."

He shifted against her back. She smiled and snuggled, sighing again, "Good morning."

She really talked too much. Seriously. He wiggled her panties down while she shifted, blinking three times. Surprised, she queried, "Again?"

Yep. She talked too much. His hand curled over her chest, palming a breast under that little tank top, and he filled her up before she could really wake up. Claire gasped, excited, and bucked in his arms.

She gasped, "Who are you?"

He turned her face to kiss her, murmuring, "I'm yours." And stole her breath on a needy pant. She gripped him, she grabbed for him.

There was no more talking.

 

Twenty minutes later, he left her half falling off the bed with her butt in the air gasping and sweaty, and jumped in the shower. The pass by the mirror in the bathroom was still horrifying. He took a minute to smack the slightly poochy pouch of his belly before he got into the heated spray.

That was fixable. Honestly. It was a treadmill and some carb counting. It was fine.

His hands scooped back his hair and started soaping. He wasn't a man that reeled for long. How could he? Whatever this was. This "glimpse" it was the way things were. Wasn't he known for his ability to roll with the punches?

Sure - Ada Wong was showing up acting like a benevolent spirit. She was friendly and weird and not at all conniving or sly. It was entirely out of character for her to bother with something mundane like fixing his life. But what about any of this made sense? Were any of them really themselves here? Wasn't all of this...an alternate universe? (*cough*)

The shower door slid open and Claire giggled as she got in, slipping around in front of him to share the spray. "Move it, hotstuff. I'm already late, thanks to you."

He just kept staring at her as she soaped up, rubbing her hand between her thighs and talking again. She was always talking. He was too busy watching the soap slide down her spine and over that heart shaped ass of hers. "I told you about Jennifer at the office right? She is such a hose beast. She thinks because she has a modest sense of personal style, she can redecorate the whole damn office. Apparently, fucking the boss makes you an interior designer."

What had she been in school for once? He racked his brain to remember. Finally, he said, "So beat her at her own game."

Surprised, Claire rinsed the soap out of her eyes. "You think?"

"You kidding?" He took advantage of the moment to play with her breasts. Why? Why not? He was her husband in this weird world. He'd pretty much pictured his face in her boobs a thousand times since he met her. He never touched her. Ever. Why? She was his friend. And even his low life whoring had standards. To stay friends, you kept your hands to yourself.

He didn't fuck girls that mattered to him. It was that simple.

But this wasn't real. So he got to do whatever he wanted.

She was getting breathy before she slapped at him a little. "Stop it. You want me to be late for work?"

"Yes."

She shook her head, turning her back on him, and laughing. "You woke up or something yesterday. What did you do with my husband?"

His hands scooped against her again, spilling around her hips and wigging her against his groin. "He's dead. I killed him. He was a useless bastard."

She laughed and turned her head to kiss him. He nearly had her ready for round two when the thing hanging in the shower started squawking. It was a remote bomb? It was a gateway to hell? It was white and had a speaker, so it was a monitor. Was it offering the listener the voice of demons? What the hell was that noise!? It was LOUD. Like a chittering cockroach thing he'd faced in Spain. It was so loud it brought their mouths apart and Claire gasped, "The baby. Leon! The baby."

Right. The baby.

They had one of those. She had one leg thrown over his shoulder while he crouched in the water with his mouth on her and tried to eat her alive. He was supposed to care about the baby? The baby let up a wail and Claire came. She came against his thrusting fingers and tongue while she made a small mewling cat noise, humping.

He pulled his hand from her jerking body and she trembled, slapping the wall beside her. She'd knocked all the bottles off the walls around them while she'd grappled for something to hold on to.

"Lord...You take viagra or something?"

That was...that was just insulting. It really was. What kind of pathetic turd was his other self?! Seriously. He frowned and Claire instructed, "Get the baby, ok? She's probably hungry."

Leon sighed and climbed out of the shower. He watched her shiver in the water and murmur, "Holy hell. Seriuosly."

He grinned, winking at himself in the mirror. There. That was him. That was what he did with women. Seriously. He left them shaking and sloppy wet for him.

Boom.

Claire started singing in the water. Off key, adorable, and happy. Had he ever seen her so happy? The years and years he'd known her, he couldn't remember seeing her so happy.

This life? It suited her. She fit here.

He paused, considered things, and slid open the door of the shower. She glanced at him, laughing, "Don't give me that look. It's not my turn with her. It's yours. You know that. Monday is your day, baby."

He scanned her face, back and forth, until she grinned at him. "What?"

Shaking his head, Leon mused, "You're my viagra, Claire. Just so we're clear. I'm gonna do that again when you get home today. And then I'm going to fuck you until you pass out."

She looked like she might have been hit in the face by fish. She floundered, mouth open, staring at him.

He winked.

He closed the shower. He missed her face as she did, flushed and flattered. She laughed breathily as he left the bathroom, fanning herself. Whatever was going on with him, she didn't care. He'd never looked at her like he was now. Ever.

She shook herself, like coming out of a long sleep. Whoever he was this morning? She was nuts about him, and considered skipping work all together to be with him.

In the baby's room, Leon was changing her while she watched him. She sucked her fist, giving him big eyes. He was getting better at it, clearly, and didn't even cringe at the poopy mess in her diaper.

He considered her with narrow eyes, "You don't eat any food. How can you make such a mess?"

She grinned a gummy smile and babbled at him. Glancing around to be sure no one was looking, he leaned down to kiss her. She just...she squealed. It was loud and happy. She grabbed his ears and babbled and blew raspberries. She gummed his nose and...that was good. It was ok. It was pretty nice.

He heard Ben say, "You like babies huh?"

Ben leaped up on the changing station in his footie pajamas covered in Star Wars characters. Leon shrugged, "I guess. Was I a good dad to you?"

Ben nodded, eating a banana. "You are. You like to play catch. You make good lasagna. You fart a lot 'cause you like beans."

"Am I good at farting?"

"Uncle Chris is better."

He would be. The douche. He probably farted the National Anthem while doing the two step.

"You fart real good though. It stinks alot."

Boys. This is what mattered in life. Who could fart the smelliest was a big deal with men. He had some proving to do versus Chris, clearly.

Leon nodded, looking reflective, "Makes sense with the bean eating. You think I'm fat?"

Ben studied him, looking studious and pensive. "...you look like my Dad. I don't think you're fat. Tina Baker's Dad is real fat. He looks like Patrick from Spongebob. Tina's Mom said, when we were over at her house one day..." He geared up for an impersonation, and stole Leon's heart. Why? There was nothing Leon Kennedy did better than bad impersonations.

Ben chortled, in a high pitched tone, "Jim," He wagged his finger, "Claire Kennedy gets to come home to THAT." Ben gestured at Leon with a girly wave of his arm, "You see him?! I don't deserve to come home to that?! Lay off the nachos!"

Truth from the mouth of babes.

Mollified a little, Leon snorted, "Tina's mom has a crush on me, huh?"

"All the Mom's do. It's gross."

Feeling a little more like maybe Dad bod wasn't so bad, Leon nodded sagely. "Yeah. Girls are gross. Steer clear for like thirty years, would ya?"

"I hate girls." Ben shrugged, "They always do this..." He mimicked giggling and fanning himself, "Even Mom does that."

Oh. Oh oh oh. Leon cleared his throat, "Yeah? When?"

"When you give her this look." Ben put his hair in his eyes and pouted his lips, winking slowly. It's clearly meant to be Leon, sultry. Although, for the life of him, he can't remember a time he's ever looked at a woman that way.

From the doorway of the room, Claire remarked, "Ok, boys, Mom's out. I'll pick up KFC for dinner on my way home."

Leon gave her a look over his shoulder, "Don't worry about that shit, Claire. It'll kill us with grease. I'll cook. You just bring a bottle of wine and relax."

She paused, blinking twice, "Really?"

"Yeah. You said you had a big day right?" Did he? He had no clue. But Ben saved the day.

"Dad's on Christmas break, Mom. He just has to take Gigi to the doctor." And there was the baby's name. Gigi babbled as Leon picked her up. She gummed his ear.

Claire hesitated, shrugged, and laughed, "Great. What's on the menu?"

Leon shrugged, "Pot roast, probably. I'm guessing Lobster ravioli wouldn't go over real well in a corndogs and tater tots situation."

She smiled, shaking her head, "You're something else. Be good today, ok?"

He winked at her...and his hair tumbled into his eye, "Not sure good is what you really want, sweetheart."

She...giggled. She giggled and shook herself. Why was she giggling around him all the time? She was NOT a giggler. She pointed at him, eyes narrowed, "Charmer. I'm on to you." Flouncing away, she tried to figure out what was happening here.

But that was simple. Her husband woke up Christmas morning and decided to rock her world. She was in love with him again. Just like that. Just that quickly. Because he was Leon again...and not the shadow she'd been living beside for so long.

Leon glanced at Ben.

He looked righteous, pursing his lips. He handed Leon the banana peel as she climbed down, "See? Weird. You should cut your hair, Dad. Or girls will keep doing that. What if they start chasing you? How will you fight them? You're just a Dad. I know you're an alien. But you're still just a Dad. You don't have no skills. I gotta get ready for school."

Leon Kennedy didn't have no skills. What a hard lesson.

Leon glanced at Gigi. She gave him a very cool expression, judging him. He laughed, shaking his head, "What? You don't like my hair?"

She grabbed a handful and giggled.

Yup. Girls loved the hair.

The next sad moment for the man who'd once single-handedly stopped a cult and saved the President's daughter, came with trying to load Gigi into the seat of the car outside. Claire had taken his Jeep, forcing him to drive her small navy colored Sedan. Leon stared at the baby seat like it was a room full of lasers trying to sheer off his flesh. If he turned wrong, would he lose a finger?

It was more complicated than a series of switches complete with robots trying to kill him. He couldn't figure out how to open the damn thing to put the baby in.

Beside him, Ben mused, "Click the red button and lift the top Dad."

He did, and the seat lifted. Surprised, Leon set the bundled up baby in the seat. She stared at him, silently judging his inadequacy as he tried to fumble the latches back on her.

Ben said, "Take her jacket off Dad, so she'll fit."

Right. Durf. He did, tossing it on the seat. She slid into the harness and Leon secured her. She cooed, batting her lashes at him. Lord. He could be a fumbling fuck up and the girls still loved him. Clearly, it was the hair.

Ben said, "It's ok. We'll figure it out. I'll help you."

Leon laughed and shook his head, "Thanks dude. No man left behind?"

"Nope."

Leon claimed the driver's seat and started down the street. Ben gave directions and they made it to daycare with the baby. As he took her out of the seat to hand her off, the pretty woman who took her smiled sweetly at him, "Good morning, Mr. Kennedy. It's...good to see you."

What was that? That undercurrent. She rolled her lip under and winked at him.

He paused, blinking, and wondered if they were having an affair. As he handed Gigi to her, she rubbed his arm. There was something happening there, that was for sure.

Curious about it, he remarked, "How are you? You look good."

She giggled and shrugged, "I could be better. Will I see you at the bowling alley later?"

Yep. Something was happening here. He shrugged, "Probably. There's a game tonight?"

"The big one. The championship. See you at seven?" She cuddled Gigi to her, giving him OBVIOUS "come fuck me" eyes. He was kind of irritated at his other self. Really?

Really?

You had CLAIRE at home and you went out with this run of the mill desperate housewife? REALLY!?

Annoyed at his other self, Leon smiled woodenly at her, "Sounds good. Go team right?"

He climbed in the car, muttering. He asked Ben, "Do I get a pick up receipt for Gigi? Or what?"

Ben gave him a wide eyed look, "You just come get her when the day is done, Dad. I think."

"Got it." Leon drove out of the line, watching the ass of the women who'd flirted. She wasn't ugly. She was just a pretty thing with a wandering eye. Was he? Was he cheating on his "wife"?

He tapped the steering wheel with annoyance as he rolled up to Ben's school. The boy paused and finally said, "You're doing a good job, Dad. For an alien."

A huge compliment, to be sure. Leon winked at him. "Thanks, bud. See you after school."

"Yep. Don't forget about Gigi."

He laughed and waved and called, "Ben?"

"Yeah?" The boy lifted his brows. He was a good looking kid, no getting around that.

"Where do I work?"

Ben gave him a small smile, "The highschool, Dad. But it's closed. Mom? She works with Uncle Chris. At the station."

Shit. SHIT. Claire worked at the station. The station was still there. He was in fucking Raccoon City. It was surreal. He waved again and drove off. He was possibly cheating on his wife while living in Raccoon City.

It was insane.

But wasn't his life?

He shot across town in the little Sedan and the drive was easy. Why? He remembered everything about it. The whole thing. The long curves, the turns, the shops. He could see it all, before the fall and after it. What if he had a chance here to change fate?

What if he had a chance to stay here and never live that long night?

Would he take it?

What good would it do if he always remembered the horror?

Would he trade everything he was for the chance at something real?

He rolled the car into the lot of the R.P.D. and leaped out, looking with raw trepidation at the familiar building. It wasn't burning. It wasn't boiling with infection. It was just standing there in the cold air.

He moved into the lobby mired in deja vu. There were no zombies. There were no lickers. He didn't come face to face in a bastard in a hat trying to kill him. Birkin didn't burst out of the bullpen and roll his large eye at him.

He was just a guy in a station looking for his wife.

The very dead Marvin Branagh was there. He waved, happily. The disgusting pervert that was Chief Irons was there - apparently having never been discovered as a necrophiliac pedophile, seeing as there was no apocalypse for him to be outed. He was talking to Claire and touching her waist.

Leon narrowed his eyes, gritting his teeth. Disgusting bastard. How was he hiding his fetish? He'd once had the dead body of the Mayor's daughter in his office missing her guts. He was trying to stuff her - both euphemistically and literally. He'd tried to rape Claire when he'd come upon her in the garage. Rape. He'd tried to RAPE Claire.

How was he hiding that monster he was inside?

Apparently, Albert Wesker was as well. This wasn't an alternate universe, it was hell. Hell had Irons and Wesker side by side serving the city they'd destroyed in tandem, once upon a time.

Disgusted, Leon started to call out to his wife, and froze. She was waylaid by a hand on her arm. The man himself: Wesker. He took her arm above the elbow and steered her to the side. She spoke low and earnest.

Leon watched them, feeling the roll of it in his guts. Wesker leaned too close. She leaned away, shaking her head. And Leon was still Leon. Maybe it wasn't his world, but some things didn't change.

He read her lips. She said, "That's done. You hear me? That's done."

He blinked. Maybe it wasn't him. Maybe it was her. Was Claire having an affair with Albert Wesker? She'd called him Albert at the house. Albert. So familiar.

She jerked her arm away. She turned. She saw him in the lobby.

She went pale.

He was kinda afraid Claire was having an affair with Albert Wesker.

She hurried down into the lobby, grinning, "Hey! What are you doing here?"

He hadn't yet taken his eyes off Wesker. Apparently, there were more benefits to being in this world. He'd missed the opportunity to force feed that megalomaniac mountain of narcissistic psychosis a fist full of justice in his world. Maybe he was being given a glimpse of what life looked like when you could finally make amends.

Maybe he'd get his chance here to beat the living piss out of Albert Wesker.

Without pulling words, Leon asked her, "You cheating on me?"

What had she said the night before? He hadn't looked at her in so long. Was he cheating? Were they both? Is that why there was that constant look of surprise on her face when he touched her?

Had his other self driven her away and into the arms of Redfield's greatest enemy?

Surely not.

Surely he wasn't that shitty of a husband.

But Claire clutched his arm and steered him around the desk in the lobby to the quiet office beside it. She closed the door, swiftly. She took two deep breaths and said, "Why would you ask me that?"

He shook his head, "I saw you. I saw you up there. Don't treat me like I'm stupid."

She shook her head, saying, "I'm not. I'm not. Lower your voice please."

He sighed, putting his hands in his back pockets. "Come on, Claire, you sleeping around?"

She tilted her head at him, "No. No I'm not. Would you care if I was?" And that hurt. Because he wasn't sure she didn't have a legitimate reason to ask. He didn't know. But he was betting his other self had been fucking awful - just by ignoring her.

She paused, winced, and said, "I thought about it. We...it's harmless. It is. It's harmless. He just has this edge. He's intense. I have never touched him. Ever. But yesterday, at the house, things with you and I...it just felt better, ya know? It felt good. I started to feel guilty. I told him this morning to just...stop. To stop. He didn't handle it real well."

Leon rubbed his mouth, volleying his eyes over her face. "That's it. That's everything?"

"It is." She touched his arm, "I am sorry. I feel awful. But I swear it wasn't physical."

That made it WORSE somehow. She was having an emotional affair with the godfather of destruction. He gave her a heavy sigh, "I don't make you happy."

At least they could acknowledge it. Here and now. It wasn't even him. His other self? Was failing her in everyway.

She sighed, looking so sad, "You're tired. You're busy. Your dad Died and you just...stopped. You just stopped. I thought it was me. I thought it was us. And then yesterday? You just...woke up."

Leon nodded, cupping her face, "I'm figuring this out. I am. I'm here now. I wish..." What did he wish? That he'd had her from the beginning? That she'd never been sad with the other dead version of him? Yeah. Right now? That's exactly what he wished.

He kissed her, hard, and stepped back, "I'll fix it. You hear me? I'll fix it. Just...trust me."

She gripped his forearm. "I've always trusted you. Always. I should have talked to you. I tried...you just...weren't here."

That hurt. It wasn't even him, not really. And that hurt. Was he a fucking robot in this life? That was done. He wasn't here to glimpse anymore. He was here to fix. At the end of the day, Leon Kennedy fixed things. It's what he did.

It started with him.

He kissed her again, shaking his head, "I'm sorry. That's done. You and me? I'll make you love me again."

She gripped his forearm, "Leon...I've always loved you. I never gave up on the idea that you'd come back to me. I was just..." She trailed off.

He kissed her forehead and stepped back, nodding, "Lonely. You were lonely. I was a bad husband to you, Claire. But that's done. I promise."

He turned out of the office, moving toward the stairs. Wesker met him halfway, with that stupid blank expression backed by cold. He didn't even flinch when Leon leaned in, close enough to whisper.

Leon said, quietly, "You look at her again, I'll shove those empty eyes up your ass until you're as blind as you are stupid."

Wesker shook his head, looking amused. "You think you can keep her? You're a joke. A punchline in a bad gag. A pathetic shadow of what you could have been. You were a cop for one day and loser for the rest of your life. I don't have to take her from you, Mr. Kennedy, because you lost her the second you let yourself go."

Leon flashed a grin, wolfish and sharp, "Maybe you're right. But the thing is Wesker? You don't really know me. Not really. We've never really met. The guy you think you know? He's dead. This one?"

He winked, slow and demeaning, "He doesn't know how to give up. You wanna fight? You don't know who the hell you're dealing with. I protect what's mine."

Wesker tilted his head, like a curious dog. "You threatening me?"

"Just letting you know - that pathetic guy you're talking about? He's finished. I killed him. You touch her? You'll join him." Leon stepped closer and Wesker either had to back up or let him. He let him and they were nose to nose. "Keep your fucking hands off my wife."

A curious thing, this need to assert his place in a world that wasn't his. But he'd woken beside her, he'd woken inside her...and he just wanted to stay there. He was going to make the most of whatever time he had there.

It started with being who he was in a world that wasn't his.

He let Albert Wesker glimpse the real Leon Kennedy. That one? It had spent a lifetime coveting Claire Redfield. It had spent a lifetime beside her, unworthy. Now? He had her. He was holding on.

The thing about Leon Kennedy? It was wrong to underestimate him. Because he never let you down.

When it mattered? He never let go.

Even if the world he was living in...wasn't really his.

Chapter 5: Dichotomy

GLIMPSE:

A Resident Evil Short Story
....

Starring:

Leon S. Kennedy and Claire Redfield
....

Guest Starring:

Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Sherry Birkin, Albert Wesker and the Ghost of Ada Wong
...

Part Five:

Dichotomy
...

Raccoon City - 2006
....

His other self was a douche bag.

Whatever else was true, Leon Kennedy wasn't a douche bag. Somewhere, Chris Redfield did NOT agree with that assessment. But seeing as Chris, himself, was the ultimate douche...Leon didn't really care about his opinion.

He was mostly a good guy. Right?

He paused, considering that as he drove across town with the baby to her doctor appointment. She was in perfect healthy and adorable.

All the little nurses flirted with him and made him grit his teeth.

Maybe some people would call him a douche bag. He was betting Chris did, frequently to whom ever would listen, while probably farting on Leon's food. The thing was...he wasn't. He was, at the core, the guy who got things done. He didn't lie to girls to get them in bed. He didn't cheat. He didn't steal.

He saved the day and went home.

What had happened to his alternate universe self here to send him off the deep end?

He contemplated that as he arrived at the bowling alley with his stupid shirt on. The damn thing was tight, which pissed him off, and made his beer belly look about five months pregnant. But it didn't seem to bother the woman who flirted with him at the door.

She gave him big, gummy lashes that she batted and cooed.

Seriously? Was he poking this chic too? What kind of pathetic turd was he? He didn't know if he was really cheating at all. Not really. Or just flirting with anything with tits.

But he couldn't be sure, and that pissed him off.

Was he just a bad husband? How bad was he?

To his surprise, the answer wasn't one he liked at all, as he found himself in the bathroom after bowling a horrible game (the team was crushed and thought maybe he was drunk...it turned out he was just a terrible bowler) so that even in his fake life, he was a failure.

Wesker was sniffing around his woman. WESKER was sniffing around his woman. He was a cheater, maybe. He was a loser, clearly. He was a fat, stupid, lazy in the sack asshole who didn't deserve Claire Redfield.

And he had two fantastic kids.

That baby...she'd made him laugh all morning. She was adorable and guileless. She giggled and flirted and loved him. He must have been a pretty ok Dad. Which was the only goddamn redeeming thing about his other self.

A hand slid around his hip and had him jumping.

It was Mrs. Wesker...whose name he couldn't remember for the life of him.

She purred, "Albert...is working all night. Tonight? I'm all yours."

Yep. He was a real piece of shit alright. Wesker's old lady was trying to hook up with him while Wesker tried to bone Claire. A real fairy tale, this life he never asked for. A glimpse of what? How awful people could be? At least tyrants never tried to bone your wife before they killed you.

He mused, "Are we sleeping together?"

And Mrs. Wesker cooed, "Are we finally done playing games? You want the truth?"

"Absolutely."

"I don't ever wear low cut dresses for Albert. I don't slather on this perfume for anyone. I know it's your favorite. I started substitute teaching? Just to be close to you." She put her teeth by his ear from behind, meeting his eyes in the mirror, "I adore you."

Shaking his head, Leon pressed, "But we haven't ever done it?"

She gave him a weird look and purred, "Not yet. Tonights the night. I'm yours!"

Ok. So...he wasn't boning her. Not yet anyway. There was some relief in that. She spun him around and tried to throw herself on him at the urinal. He nearly fell over fending her off.

It was the first time Leon Kennedy was on the defensive from an opponent he couldn't kill. He parried, uselessly, slapping away her claw like clutches as she grabbed for him. She got a fistful of his butt had had him squeaking, "HEY! None of that now!"

"Your mouth says no, but your eyes say yes!"

Mrs. Wesker was a rapist. It was that simple. He couldn't kick her ass, not in the bathroom of a bowling alley, not without making life miserable for everyone around him. So he just had to...fend her off. Surely, he could do that. He'd once went hand to hand with a chainsaw man and eighteen angry villagers with parasites in their bodies. They'd chased him across the frozen Spanish countryside with no sleep, no time to shit, and ten bullets.

He'd won that battle with a pocket knife, two bricks from a construction zone, and a bad pun.

Surely, he could take one horny house wife trying to grab his dick.

Surely.

He ended up with a wet butt from half landing in the urinal cake in the porcelain, thanked god he'd FLUSHED before that at least, and turned his face away from her amorous kissing. She slathered on the spit, trying to suck his ears and eat his face or something. Apparently, there were monsters in this universe as well.

They were the kind married to Albert Wesker.

Leon shoved her away finally, grabbing her arms to remove her from him. "Hah...hah...oy. Ok. So here's the thing. Whatever you think this is? You're wrong."

She looked shell shocked, flushed and excited, "What?"

"Uh...Annie?"

Her eyes flared, "ANITA."

"Right. Hah. Right. Anita...listen...I love my wife. She's also jealous by nature. She doesn't like to share."

Anita Wesker gave him a dirty look. "She's spreading her legs for my husband. Everyone knows it. He uses everything at that place. He's known for it. He preys on lonely little housewives whose husbands are getting it on the side. It's his M.O."

Lord.

The flicker of anger had him setting her further away, "Maybe so. But she's not touching him. She's only sleeping with me."

"I heard you never touch her."

He gave Anita a dirty look. "You heard wrong. What the hell would I want with another woman when she's waiting for me at home?"

"A good question..." Anita narrowed her eyes, "Why are you here with me if she's so wonderful?"

And that was one too. He shook his head, stepping away, "I don't know. But I'm about to fix that. For the record...you deserve better than that sniveling sack of shit. Divorce him and find a man who appreciates you."

He left the bathroom, moving to the lanes. He was hailed with beers and laughter. His wife was there in support apparently, though he didn't know when she'd shown up.

Did it matter that she had?

Yeah. Yeah, it did.

He crossed by a group of laughing kids playing air hockey and moved toward her. She was in conversation with Rebecca and Jill. There was a loud raucous shout of joy and Leon glanced over to see Redfield get his second strike in a row.

Asshole. He was even better at bowling.

But there was one thing he wasn't better at...it was time to reclaim his title. It was enough being the limp dick laughing stock of Raccoon City. His pride absolutely would not stand for his wife to have an emotional affair with a known predator of lonely housewives.

He was "The Executioner"; he struck down his enemies and smote himself upon their ruin. He wasn't a pathetic mess. He wasn't. It wasn't his problem that his other self was. It was just time to cleave that little assholes legacy in half and make room for the real Leon Kennedy.

Jill waved happily when she saw him, remarking, "Can you believe this Leon? Number four for us. You're losing ground. Time to adopt those kids you two were always talking about."

Gross. Chris Redfield even had more kids than him. He was even better at knocking up his wife. Four!? Four kids. For the guy who'd never even sniffed Jill Valentine's panties in the real world. Mr. Eunuch, the laughingstock of bio-terror because he never touched girls. Or boys. Or himself.

He had four kids.

He was at the top of his career.

He was still a crack shot - in the bedroom and on the range.

Damn Chris Redfield. Leon was going to blast ass on his nachos the next time he saw him eating. It was that simple. It was also long over due, based on the amount of shit he'd shoveled for Redfield over the years in the other dimension. Who cared? Four kids...un-freaking-believeable.

Leon shook his head. He said nothing. He just kept moving toward them. Claire smiled at him, looking still a little uncomfortable with what had gone down that morning, he was sure of that. "Hey you! Having an off night?"

"More like an off life." He scooped his arm around her to drag her in. Rebecca whistled, Jill laughed, and he kissed her like she'd just come home from war.

Her leg popped up, tossing her foot back like in a movie, and Claire clutched at his hair to hold him as he dipped her back. She made a little sound of excited need and someone whooped to encourage him.

It probably was NOT Albert Wesker. That lemon faced turd was likely at the bar chewing his rage at having his latest prey snapped away from him.

Redfield shouted, "GET A ROOM! GROSS!"

And Leon did just that. He grabbed Claire's hand and tugged. She ran with him, laughing and flushed. Everyone cheered. It felt like when he'd won the championship game in highschool. He'd claimed the head cheerleader and marched off the field in victory that night.

This time he grabbed his wife and felt even better.

He put her against the side of the bowling alley in the cold to kiss her. She groped him, desperately, making little hmm hmm sounds as he laid claim to her. When they broke to breathe, she gasped, "I thought you'd be mad at me still."

He shook his head, "Not mad. Claire...I think I wanted you the first time I saw you. I was stupid, a boy...a fucking fool. But I'm not anymore."

"My body...it's not what it was, Leon. I stopped working out. I'm kinda soft all over. I can't really blame you. It's ok. It's not your fault."

Lord. She was making excuses for him being blind to her. It was too much. He shook his head again. "It is. It's done now. Your body? Your body...your body..." He scooped her around him and she went, leaping up to wrap her legs at his waist.

They made it to the Jeep and he spilled her back in it. She was shaking by the time he whipped the Jeep around the alley and under the quiet dark of some trees. She didn't wait, she just crawled on his lap to kiss him.

Popping buttons and groping hands. Kissing and gasping. He filled her full of his fingers and grunted, "Your body, Claire...it's incredible. I know mine isn't. I know that. But I'll fix it."

She grabbed his face, humping all over his hand, and cried out, "You're perfect, Leon. You're perfect! Oh, god!"

She came all over him. She loved him. She loved his stupid Dad bod and his lazy shitty attitude. She was too good for him. Either him. Either one. She'd always been too good for the one who killed for a living. She was definitely too good for the one that might as well be dead for all the use he served.

They didn't even go back to the bowling alley. They just went home. Claire left her car there and he drove.

They held hands in the Jeep on the shifter until he rolled into the driveway - and Ben ran down to greet them.

There's a moment in any situation where you have to just...accept it. Was this his? He opened his car down and Ben whooped, "Gigi pooped on the dog!"

And there it was.

His life was poop on a dog. It made no sense. It was madness and delight and narcisstic self imposed denial. It was hugging and fucking and laughing with a woman he'd coveted for nearly as long as he'd known her.

It was Albert Wesker, waiting for the moment when Leon fed him a fist full of long over due rage.

So Leon didn't even object when Sherry took off to her room to piss and moan about hating her duty as a babysitter and Claire took the baby for a bath - sticking him with dog bathing duty. He washed the husky in the garage with Ben beside him, giggling.

Ben sprayed him with soap and got tickled until he squealed.

He was filling a small tub with water and Ben put the hose down the back of his pants and soaked his ass. The garage just...rolled with laughter.

He found out the dog's name was Whisper. She was beautiful, white and perfect - like she'd been all his life. First when he saw her as a boy in the mountains outside of Colorado Springs. Next when she was there the night he drove into Raccoon - waiting on the side of the road in the dark as he roared by in his Jeep. And then in Spain to save his life after he spared her from that bear trap.

And watching him die in the mountains before he'd woken up here.

She was always there.

He petted her, gently, watching her biocolored eyes like sea and snow watching him. She licked his wrist and seemed to smile. Ben mused, "You like dogs?"

"I do." Leon glanced at the boy, considering him, "You like me?"

"I think you'll do. Is my Dad coming back?"

Leon considered this too. "Maybe. He's pretty busy. What if I stayed with you forever?"

Ben twisted his lips, laughed, and shrugged, "You don't really stink. Gigi likes you. Whisper does too. I think you can stay."

Leon ruffled his hair, glancing down at the mess they'd made. "What do you think? Leave it for tomorrow?"

"Yep. Bed time." Ben jumped down and headed toward the stairs. Whisper circled twice and laid down in her bed by the garage door to dry. As they reached the foot of the stairs, Ben added, "You want to read me a story?"

"Were we reading one?"

Ben nodded...and put his hand in Leon's to lead him toward his room. It was a nice feeling, holding hands with the boy. Leon liked the shift in his chest at the warmth of it.

He liked how Ben settled beside him on the bed, lifted his arm and looped it around his narrow shoulders, and started reading from the book he spread over both their laps.

Eventually, Claire brought the baby, clean and happy. Gigi reached for him and settled against his other side, putting her head on his shoulder as Ben read - an incredible tale about A Stinky Cheese Man. The Stinky Cheese Man was always running - from everyone and everything in his life that mattered. He was the guy who never stayed. He was a rambling man. A gypsy.

A Kennedy.

Run run as fast as you can...you can't catch me, I'm the stinky cheese man.

Claire put her hand on the back of his neck, rubbed, and kissed his temple. She left him with the kids to finish the story. Gigi gummed her fist and babbled, adding her own twist on the story.

Ben cuddled against his side and dozed off, halfway into the story.

For a moment, as the quiet settled around him, he wondered if he was the Stinky Cheese Man. Would he run if he could? He was in a world that wasn't his, with a life that wasn't his...would he run if he had the option? What was he running back to?

What was he running from?

He settled the baby in bed and tucked Ben in. The boy sighed and remarked, sleepily, "I'm glad you're here."

Surprised, Leon asked, softly, "Why?"

Ben answered, quietly, "My Mom is laughing again. She never laughs."

And there it was. The truth. His other self was a failure at even that. Even the laughter had left him in this life. When all else failed, he couldn't even bring his wife any joy.

Leon kissed Ben's forehead and left him to snore, heading down the hallyway to his room.

Sherry was lingering in the hallway and hissed, "You wanna?" She raised the joint and wiggled her brows at him.

This was the type of guy his other self was. The type who secretly smoked dope with his adopted kid to get his kicks -and maybe cheated on his wife. Lord.

Leon shook his head, "Nope. The warden is waiting for me."

She made a face and laughed, "Bummer. Next time." She closed her room door.

She seemed ok. Her parents hadn't made her a B.O.W. She was a girl fixing to graduate and start her life. Just a kid turning to an adult. She seemed...normal.

At least that part was good here. Sherry? She seemed to be doing ok. He'd seen brochures for Dartmouth lying on the counter downstairs. Which meant she was also brilliant.

There was a swell of pride in him at the idea of her growing up and having a normal life - where she became something she wanted, instead of something the world made her.

Claire wasn't in the bedroom as he rolled in, tossing his soggy clothes in the corner hamper and scratching his belly. He was just flipping on The Late Show with Letterman when the bathroom door opened...and out came a siren.

She was in something black and slutty. It was all boobs and lacy delight. She giggled, "It still fits."

He wished he could remember the night the other Leon had given it to her. He REALLY did. Because she looked delectable. He was jealous of himself, literally, and what the other version of him had enjoyed with her.

Leon shook his head, putting his hand out to her. "Come here."

She did, swaying cutely as she moved. She poked a hand on her hip and purred, playfully, "Do I make you horny, baby?" In a bad Austin Powers impersonation that made him adore.

He tugged her close, sliding his hand down her butt to grip her. She made a small sound of excitement and echoed it, gripping his buns in her hands and laughing.

And he said, softly, "I love you, Claire."

She would never, ever, know the significance of that. Ever. She'd never understand it. Because she'd loved him all this time and thought they were married and had shared a life and a past.

They shared a past, but she'd never been his. Not ever.

And he'd always loved her.

She smiled, stroking his hair back from his face, "Yeah?"

"Always." He slipped his hands under that nightgown to touch her naked butt, "Always. From the second I met you."

Surprised, Claire melted in his arms, "...Leon..." She breathed it, softly, "What's happened to you?"

He shook his head, holding on to her, "I don't know. I think I'm awake. I think I've been asleep for a long time. I think I'm awake now."

She nodded, stroking the dip in his chin with her thumb, "I'm so happy. After your Dad died...I didn't think you'd ever come back from that. I didn't think..." She trailed off, getting a little misty eyed, "I didn't think you'd ever really want me again. I know...Gigi...she wasn't what you wanted. I know you were drunk that night...I know that. And then the complications...the mess of it afterward. I'm sorry I leaned on you so heavily then."

He shook his head, throbbing with hate for his other self, "I want Gigi. I love Gigi." Jesus, that was true. He loved a baby he'd known for two days. "I was a fucking idiot. I wish..." He trailed off.

Claire tilted her head, holding his face, "What? You wish...?"

"I wish I could get you pregnant again. I wish I could see you pregnant. I wish I could...be there when you pop and hold you...and..." He lost his voice, shaking his head, "Sorry. Stupid. I know that's stupid."

Teary eyed, she shook her head too. "You kidding? That's..." She kissed him, eyes and nose, mouth and chin. "I love you. Leon? I love you."

Lord.

Someone else had lived the life he should have had. That's what this was. It was to show him what he'd never really have. He'd never see her pregnant or in white while he married her. He'd never hold their baby or watch Ben grow into the amazing kid he was. This glimpse was more painful than he'd even begun to imagine.

Because he could never go back and live the life he should have had.

He could just figure out how to make the most of the one he did.

He stroked his hands all over her, hiked her around his front, and shoved her against the wall to kiss her. He couldn't keep her, he knew that. He couldn't keep the kids. He couldn't keep the life.

The life he'd panicked and fought against now felt more real to him than the one he'd left behind. He'd been almost numb there. He'd been almost lost.

He was still a man who lived in the moment. In this one? He pinned her to the wall and took her, drowning in the smell and feel of her.

He'd woken up to find the world in his hands.

This was all they had. He just had to figure out how to hold on to it...before he fell asleep again.

Chapter 6: Mirrors

GLIMPSE:

A Resident Evil Short Story

Starring:

Leon S. Kennedy and Claire Redfield

Guest Starring:

Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Sherry Birkin, Albert Wesker and the Ghost of Ada Wong

Part Six:

Mirrors

Raccoon City - 2006
......

He should have known that Ada would make her appearance that night while he slept. After all, she'd made her appearance into his life plenty since he'd known her. She was as easy to catch as the wind - you felt her but you never really held her.

He'd held her - once...just once- a million years before he'd learned you couldn't love a ghost.

Somewhere between being a hero and being a martyr, he'd found her on his doorstep. The good guy in him had known she was bad, she was poison, she was murder in Manolo Blahnik's...but he'd opened that door anyway. Why? Ada was the type of woman he deserved.

He'd stood in the elevator while the city burned, watching it collapse and boil around him, hunting Simmons with the single minded determination of a bloodhound tracking a scent...and he'd known he was damned. Whatever he touched, it turned to shit. From his life to his job to his dedication, all of it burned while Tatchi burned.

A blaze of glory on a horizon turned red with blood.

He'd opened his door to Ada that night. He'd hiked up her dress and fucked her against the wall of his penthouse overlooking Manhatten. He'd turned her face to the side and kept his hand there while he'd plowed her. The spy. The perfect dagger in the dark. He'd taken her. After years of back and forth. After a life time of banter, three scotches and a pile of regret had put him between her thighs and in her clutches like nothing he'd ever known.

Ada had licked her red lips and moaned like a whore, clutching at him, a wolfish smile on her perfect mouth.

Fake. Lies. Even how she loved you was a lie. She fucked like a liar, like a whore, paid and perfect. Each lift of hips, each lie of her hands on his body, he'd known it wasn't anything but a game to her. It was the final failure for him.

All his life he'd chased the truth, the cause, the victory of good over evil. He'd come to the fight through blackmail, stayed in the fight to protect those he'd loved, and kept on fighting because he'd given up his life to it. The emptiness at the bottom of a bottle of scotch dragged through the guts until you either filled it with lies, or you choked on the silence.

He'd ripped her panties fucking Ada Wong. At first, she'd fought back a little. It seemed to excite her. In a culture of women resisting and being forced, Ada liked the struggle. She'd slapped his face and cursed him. She'd let him sling her face down over the coach and rip her thousand dollar gown at the shoulder to grab her breasts.

She'd incited him like the siren she was, spreading her legs to claim him.

In some way, she'd won. That victory over him, it was the final one. It left him eroded and numb. She'd left him standing in his kitchen staring into the dark covered in shame.

In the ESR, she'd teased him. "Are you still mad about that night?" But he wasn't mad. He was empty. He kept trying to find ways to fill it. He'd fuck women. He'd drink. He'd fuck women. He'd drink. He'd get high and higher and higher. He was so high once, he'd nearly plummeted off the roof of his building to see if he could fly.

But he was empty.

Putting Adam in the ground had almost killed him. The man who'd raised him. The man who'd been like a father. The man who'd been at birthdays and bought him a horse and taught him to shoot. He'd looked him in the rotting face and killed him.

It didn't matter that he was already dead.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter that he'd chased Simmons down to slaughter him in atonement for it. By the time he'd debriefed after Tatchi, he'd been dead inside anyway.

The second time Ada had shown up on his doorstep, he'd taken a look at her in the thigh highs and the bustier she wore and spoken low and cold, "Go home, Ada. There's nothing for you here."

He'd sent her away. Maybe she was what he deserved, but she wasn't what he wanted.

Each time he closed his eyes, he could see the boy who'd stood in a necropolis and said, "...go...GO...find your brother."

And Claire, hesitating...and finally, "I'm sorry."

She'd gone. She'd let him cover for her and chased her brother into the dark.

Was that why he'd never pursued her? Did some part of him blame her for what he'd become?

He was ashamed to realize the truth of it. He blamed her and Sherry for the monster they'd made him. He'd been a boy once, just a kid in a uniform looking to save the world, he was a monster now - created out of circumstance and survival.

Claire had never asked him to "save" her that night. She'd never asked him to stay behind and cover for her. But she knew he had. She knew. She never said a word about it later. She just...ran.

Each time he saw her, he was reminded of the life he'd wanted. Crazy to spend one night with a girl and feel like you might sacrifice your life for her. But he had. He kept on doing it for years.

Part of him knew he'd never have her. Ada? She's what he deserved. She was as fucked up and damaged as he was.

She'd taken his rejection to heart. She'd tried to lure him to his death in the Savannah. They'd nearly killed him captivity until Claire had located him and sent the BSAA to set him free.

The lady in red had paid them to torture him, they'd said. The lady in red. The BITCH in red.

Apparently, fucking Ada meant you ended up on the wrong end of a whip. He'd agonized on how to fight back. He'd considered bringing her in to try her for war crimes..but the Patriot Act, once invoked, meant he'd never see her face again.

He wanted to see her face when she died.

Then Ada Wong had stepped foot on the wrong runway. The tarmac of an airport in Laos. She'd played the wrong hand, she's pissed off the wrong cartel. She'd died in a bath of blood that was still a mystery.

But not to him. He'd been the one to tip off the cartel that she was working against them.

He'd sent her to her death. He'd stood on a neighboring roof to watch her get gunned down. Cold, maybe, but fitting. She wanted to play games, but he was tired of games. He just wanted it over with.

Was this how she repaid him? Giving him a glimpse into a life he'd never have? Was it another way to torture him?

And now he dreamed of her. "Why are you here?"

She shrugged, "You put me here. This is your dream."

He shook his head, angry, "You put me here. You did that. Why? You hate me that much?"

Surprised, Ada laughed a little. "Really? Why would I? The world we live in, the lives we lead, that eventually ends up in death Leon. We both know that. You beat me to it, sure. And that sucks for me. Because I wasn't ready. But I had it coming. I betrayed you. I had it coming."

He sat in the shadowy dream world and tried to figure her out, but it was like trying to unriddle the Sphinx...he just couldn't.

So he tried the other tact instead, "What if I want to stay here? Can I stay?"

Ada snorted a bit, "I don't have the power to help you stay either. I'm, literally, your guide here. I just give you the heads up, Leon, I don't make the rules."

"Ok. So who do I bargain with? Who do I talk to? The higher up? God? What?"

She shrugged again, "I don't know who the puppet master is. I just dance on my string like the rest of the world."

Annoyed, he pointed at her, "Since when are you anyone's puppet? You're nobody's pawn, Ada. What the hell is going on here?"

She tilted her head, "You're dead. You know that right? Your body is dying. Your brain is making up whatever the hell it wants right now. Is this real? Are you real? Is your other life real? Maybe this is your real life, Leon. Maybe it's always been your life. And you're just waking up from a long sleep to find that out."

Jesus. The existentialism was going to kill him here. He didn't know what that meant. Was he trapped here? Was it even really a trap at all? Was this what his dying mind wanted to picture before he went?

If so, why not make him a better man? Why make him a failure in both lives?

A curious thought. Did he consider himself a failure in his real life? A little, yeah he did. He was alone. He was miserable. He was a drunk and a semi-drug addict who used crutches to deal with his utter lack of personal growth. He was a stunted adolescent who used sex to cope with his own emptiness.

He was, really, a bit of a failure. All the asses he'd ever kicked, all the lives he'd ever saved...it didn't change the fact that he was 40 in the real world and alone. Alone. Miserably so. At least Claire had never given up on finding her happiness there.

She'd pursued some ugly relationships and lost at it, sure, but she was still out there trying. Him? He'd curled up in the crappy pit of his self imposed misery and died there in spirit, even if the flesh was still willing.

And now here he was - in another life - where he'd disappointed all the people in his world that loved him. He was a lackluster loser without much hope of making up for lost time. He'd sleepwalked through his whole life - on both sides of the fence.

It was pretty fucking pathetic.

Was this glimpse meant to show him what a waste his life had been?

He inquired, "Can I go back?"

Ada tilted her head, "To your body?"

"No...no to BEFORE...to before...I don't know. To where I was young and...hopeful."

With sympathy, Ada shook her head, "It doesn't work that way either. It's not a time machine, Leon. It's just a glimpse."

He sighed, looking into the silvery shadows of the dreamworld. "I don't know what to do here. I want to go back and see these kids be born. I want to go back and knock Claire up. I want to hold them, smell them, raise them...I don't know if I can just see this life, Ada, and walk away when it's done. I don't think I'm strong enough."

She shrugged a delicate shoulder, "The Rolling Stones have a whole song about that, Leon. Come on, you know the answer. You know the lyrics...sing it with me." She sang, gently, "You can't always get what you want..."

He shook his head, turning away.

But she kept singing, "You can't always get what you want...but if you try sometimes...you just might find..." She trailed off. He glanced at her and shook his head,

But he finished the song, "...you get what you need."

She nodded, giving him earnest eyes, "Get what you need, Kennedy. That's all any of us can ever do. What do you need? Maybe that's what you're here to find out. What do you need?"

He didn't know the answer. And maybe that's what the glimpse was all about.

What did he need?
.......

He woke up to find Claire going down on him. It was a good start.

His hands fisted in her hair as he watched her. This was like being that kid in Raccoon City again. In a way, for him, it was. It was the first time he'd ever touched her, ever let himself look or want or need her. Need. It was all over him for her. She responded to him like a woman who'd loved a man forever, aroused and flushed with want of him.

She responded like a woman who'd married a man and spent her life with him.

But him? It was a boy with a crush who'd finally said yes. He couldn't keep his hands off her. He didn't want to. He knew there was the unspoken thing about her not being able to have a baby. He knew that.

She didn't say what it was. He wasn't sure there was a way to ask without revealing he wasn't, entirely, the man she'd married. The man she'd married would know WHY she couldn't get pregnant anymore.

But the guy in her bed? He wasn't that guy.

He felt his balls tighten and grunted, gripping her hair to pull her off him. She made a little sound of remorse to leave his throbbing dick behind and he shook his head, rolling her to her back. He didn't want to waste it. Any of it.

She kicked her legs to get rid of her sweatpants and he took himself in his fist to angle him into her. They coupled quick, Claire coming almost the second he shoved her panties to the side to fuck her. He plunged three times between her thighs and followed her, clutching a handful of the little shirt she wore in his hand to hold her down for it.

Shit.

What did he need?

There was a sound at the door that signaled children waking up. He could hear Ben taking the dog down to let her outside. Claire started to roll away and he shook his head, holding her there beneath him while he finished in her. Although he wasn't sure he ever really would.

His thumb stroked her throat. His eyes scanned her face. He avowed, "I don't know that I'll get over how beautiful you look."

She flushed, looking pleased. Her legs parted a little farther to let him settle there against her, still buried inside her. Her hands shifted to palm his ass, stroking him. "Charmer. You already got in my pants. You don't have to flatter me after."

Ugh. His other self was a real fucking joke. Did he never compliment his wife other than to get laid?

Likely not, the idiot.

Leon shook his head and slid his hand under her top to brush at her belly. She immediately flinched like he'd hit her. She was so sensitive about her belly.

He lifted that shirt to look at her and she tried to tug it back down. "Don't," She protested gently, "I'm too fat."

Lord.

He arched a brow at her and shifted. He slid out of her body and she sighed even as he sat up and drummed his hands on his gut. They held gazes until Claire broke first and laughed. "You're not fat, Leon."

He drummed his hands on his belly again like he was playing the bongos.

Claire laughed and kicked him in the butt as she looped her leg over him and rolled to her feet. "Not the same thing."

"...why not?"

"You never gave birth, hot stuff. The rest of us? We have stretch marks and a fat ass. You just have...a little love handles."

"Your ass is fantastic, Claire. You're gorgeous. Stop talking about yourself like that. It pisses me off."

She paused at the bathroom door, looking at him. "Why?"

"Because you're wrong." He shrugged and rolled to his feet. "You look exactly like you did that night I met you. And I'd have turned you over the soft tail you were riding and fucked you right then...if we weren't in the middle of a ni-."

Nope. They hadn't ever been there at all. He stopped talking, forgetting there was no necropolis. There was just two people that met and dated and fell in love.

So he rephrased, quickly, "The middle of my first shift." Yikes.

She kept staring at him until he asked, "What?"

"I don't know. I keep waiting to wake up and find you back to your old self. But you're still..." She trailed off, "You're still acting like you've never fucked me before. It's..."

He mused, "Weird? Is it weird?"

"No. Weird? Hah. No. It's incredible. I just don't want to spoil it."

"Then stop talking about yourself like you're not the most beautiful woman in the world."

She laughed, shaking her head, "Deal. Sheesh. You get why I'm insecure a little right?"

He followed her into the shower and they shared the spray, washing each other. He soaped her tits while standing behind her. Her little butt kept rubbing on his belly.

He sighed, "Because I've been a shitty husband."

Surprised, Claire glanced over her shoulder, "No. Not really. Sad maybe...but not shitty. Don't say that."

Her loyalty never failed to surprise him. His other self didn't deserve her. She was faithful to him when he was clearly a complete asshole to her. It was amazing that she'd defend him.

She could have fucked Wesker, as horrifying as the image was, but she hadn't. She'd just let a man flirt with her and make her feel good about herself. Something her fucking husband should have been doing all along.

So he asked, "Then why?"

Claire glanced at him again, and laughed, "Because I'm me. And you're you."

He soaped down her belly and she flinched again. He was going to kick his other self in the balls if they ever had the misfortune to meet. He was just betting that idiot version of him had made her feel fat at some point.

"Meaning?"

"You flirt with some of the other wives at the bowling alley and I get it. I do. Jill. Anita. Brad's wife Anna. Susan..."

"Who?"

"Joseph's wife."

Right. All these formerly dead cops were alive. They were all married. He was, apparently, the guy who flirted with all the wives. Lord. He was afraid his other self hadn't just been flirting.

But Claire finished her statement, "You flirt with them and I get it. They're all...perfect, ya know? Poised. Ladies. I think...you'd probably flirt with me more if I didn't have mustard on my tee shirt and bed hair all the time."

He was quiet for so long she glanced over her shoulder at him. "Sorry. I'll work on the low self esteem."

Leon shook his head, "It's not you. It's me. I'm a fucking idiot. Let me say this in case I haven't made it clear here...I don't want anyone else, Claire. Ever. The minute I met you? I knew you were too good for me. I should have spent the rest of our lives worshiping you."

She laughed and smacked his ass when she reached around his hip, "You're so charming this morning."

He sighed and kissed her behind the ear, "I know it. You gonna let me cum on your tits now?"

"...aaaaand just like that you lost it."

"Let me put my dick in you again and we'll find it together."

"...pervert." She laughed as he groped at her crotch haphazardly.

"It'll just take a minute, Claire. I promise."

"Oh, lord. A whole minute?"

"Yup. Sixty seconds of afternoon delight for you, kid. I bet you can barely wait."

It made her giggle and turn in his arms to hug him. He gripped that little butt of hers and held on. What did he need?

Claire.

Claire. He knew that much. The rest of it? He was still figuring out.

They spent the day together with the kids. They went on a walk. They cleaned up the house. They watched some bad reruns on television.

He kept expecting to see someone with an iPhone but remembered there were no real smart phones in 2006.

So instead? They all spent time together as a family. Leon attempted to work out and nearly threw his hip out. He ran around the block and limped home breathless with a stitch in his side.

He went into the garage to beat up the heavy bag and nearly crippled himself.

When Claire was putting the baby down for a nap, he gathered up a Ben and the dog and took them walking. Ben chattered on and on and on about everything.

He talked about farting on a cat and asked if he was going to hell for it.

He mentioned a girl in his class trying to kiss him (GROSS) and if it was ok to hide from her the next time he saw her.

He wanted to know if aliens like Leon were rare or were they everywhere? Did he have red blood or acid blood? Did he fart fire!? He'd seen a movie that had aliens farting fire.

And then Ben said something that made Leon pause, "Maybe you could give me a brother."

Surprised, Leon tilted his head, "Your mom can't have any more babies, right?"

Ben shrugged, kicking at snow. "Her said that. But I think maybe she just doesn't want to be fat no more, ya know? Because my Dad..."He trailed off and shrugged.

Leon licked his teeth, "Your Dad was kinda mean about your Mom being fat right?"

Ben shrugged again and spoke, quietly, "Maybe sometimes he made her cry a little. When they fighted."

Asshole. Fucking cock sucking asshole with good hair. Lord. He HATED his other self. It was official. He was never leaving. He was staying here forever. Why? This kid, Claire, that baby...they deserved better than the asshole she'd married.

The truth? Raccoon City had made him a better man. Apparently, without it, he'd have been a douchebag.

Leon rubbed his soft hair, and said gruffly, "I'm sorry. Your Mom deserves better than that."

Ben glanced up at him as they started walking again, "Yeah...she wanted to have more babies, I think. But my Dad told her he had a vas..ectoly? A vasalogomy?"

Leon paused, blinking. His chest seized, twice, "...a vasectomy?"

"Yeah." Ben nodded, happily, "He said he had a vasectomy so he couldn't have no more babies. Maybe you can? I want a brother. Max Johnson has a brother. Stu at school has two of them. Uncle Chris has all boys. Mom said Aunt Jill is finally getting her girl though. I need a brother."

Leon's heart was racing. His other self was infertile. By choice. He'd chosen to get snipped.

But what if he wasn't?

What if he was still intact?

So he said, "...would you be ok if I got your Mom pregnant?"

Ben glanced up at him again, grinning, "Sometimes I like you better than my other Dad. You make my Mom happy. I think that would be ok...but it has to be a BOY. No more girls."

Leon cleared his throat, twice, "Right. Only boys."

"Only boys. We can start a club house out back."

"No girls allowed?"

"No girls...well maybe sometimes girls can come...if they bring cookies."

"Seems like a fair trade."

They let the dog back into the house. Claire was just finished making dinner. They all sat and ate and laughed.

He read Ben a book and put him to bed. They cleaned up the kitchen. He kept thinking about if he was sterile or not. He knew he was going to find out.

Why?

Because Ben wanted a brother.

Claire yawned and tossed her socks as she came hurrying into the room. "Baby - out for the count. Ben - finished with bathroom break one. We have...maybe seven minutes."

He tilted his head at her, "Seven minutes huh?"

"Oh, yeah. Seven minutes is all I have to play with you."

Seemed like a long enough time to knock a girl up.

He gripped her waist and tossed her beneath him. His heart was racing.

And for the first time in his life, Leon Kennedy was nervous to make love to a girl. Why?

Because it was highly possible that they weren't just making love...they just might be making a baby.

Chapter 7: Nut Punch

GLIMPSE:

A Resident Evil Short Story
...

Starring:

Leon S. Kennedy and Claire Redfield
...

Guest Starring:

Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Sherry Birkin, Albert Wesker and the Ghost of Ada Wong
...

Part Seven:

Nut Punch
....

Raccoon City - 2006
.....

No matter which way he turned, the hoard had him surrounded. He was dead where he stood. He was worm food. He was finished.

The game was a total turd fest. Resident Evil was a complete fucking disaster. The plot was horrid - the game play clunky - the dialogue atrocious. By the time he reached the battle with Salazar, Leon was shouting, "ASHLEY! SHUT THE FUCK UP! The next damn time you shout for me to catch you because you can't GO DOWN A LADDER I'm going to leave you for the wolves!"

From the kitchen, Claire chuckled.

Leon lost his head, again, to the chainsaw man and chucked the controller. "Fuck this game. Seriously. Why do I play it?"

Surviving the real thing had been easier! It was utter clown shoes.

Ben handed him a banana and they sat on the couch munching before the boy mused, "Probably cause it makes you feel like a hero."

And there it was. He wasn't a hero anymore. He was just a guy in a modest house in the suburbs with a wife and a couple of tater tots. In her monstrous contraption of death, otherwise known as a walker, Gigi gave him a gummy grin and waved the can of chili she was holding.

Curiously, Leon mused, "Babe?"

From the kitchen, Claire called back, "Sup?"

"Why does the baby have four alarm texas butt rocket in a can?"

Claire poked her head in the living room and laughed, "It's the dogs chew toy."

And so it was. It was a fake can of chili. Why in the hell would someone make a fake can of chili for a dog? The world made more sense when he was dealing with zombies and bioterrorism.

Seriously.

The baby eyed him. Leon eyed her back. She poked her tongue between her teeth and he warned her, "Don't you throw that at me, kid."

She did. She launched the fake chili at him and hit him square in the nose. Ben roared with laughter and Leon leaped up, grabbing the baby from her walker to a squeal of giggles.

"That was fighting chili, small earthling child!"

When Ben attempted to rescue his sister, Leon turned his maniacal tickles onto the boy.

Sherry managed to wander out of wherever teenage girls stayed hidden in that house and consider them. After a few moments, she sat right down on the pile of bodies wrestling and farted.

She blasted ass right on all three of them. There was no escaping the wrath of it either. She lit them up with stench. Apparently, she was no longer a BOW...but she might as well have been because she smelled like something a terrorist would use to level an entire city.

They were a pile of laughter and sloppy baby kisses when Claire called them to dinner.

Sherry listened to her MP3 player and picked her teeth while she texted whatever boy she liked on her phone. It was odd to look at one as old as she rocking, but he kept forgetting the world was younger here. HE was younger. There were no crazy smartphones - just the beginning of what they'd become.

At dinner, Ben regaled them with his useful knowledge for the day. Did they know that there was a three digit number in South Korea, like 911, to report spies?

Following it up, Leon told him, "The medical name for buttcrack? Intergluteal cleft."

Ben giggled and informed him, "Snails have fourteen thousand teeth...and some will kill you!"

Leon eyed his opponent and nodded sagely, "Sonic the Hedgehog's real name? Ogilvie Maurice Hedgehog."

Ben narrowed his eyes, "In France, most toilet paper is pink!"

Leon chuckled but Claire beat him to the next one. She mused, "Daddy long legs have penises...which technically make them not spiders."

Both boys paused with food halfway to their mouth. They stared at her. She arched her brows. Gigi burped. And finally, Claire said, "What?"

Ben shook his head and lamented, "...gross, Mama. Gross."

But it was ok. Because everybody laughed anyway. Strangely enough this included Sherry, even if she pretended she was too cool for it.

That night, he tried again to fill Claire's belly full of a baby. As they lay panting in the aftermath, a voice called through the wall.

"Bullfrogs do not sleep!"

And Leon called back, "The dark side of Pluto's moon, Charon, is called Mordor!"

Claire looked horrorified, "Really?"

"Oh, yeah. It's real, kid. As real as that cum I just shot up in you."

She slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes twinkling. "You are a filthy man."

He grinned behind her hand and Ben shouted, "Tigers have striped skin beneath the fur! It's like fingerprints! No two tigers is the same!"

Impressed, Leon chuckled behind her hand. Claire returned, voice tinged with humor, "The Himalayan Honey Bee makes honey laced with LSD."

Ben was quiet for a long moment before he called back, "What's LSD's? Like Deez Nuts?"

Leon choked on his laughter. Claire's eyes opened so wide they hurt. "Did you teach him that!? Did you teach our son about "deez nuts"?"

"That depends...do you wanna get on deez nuts again?"

He was too busy laughing to fight her off as she attacked him.
......

The next night found him teaching his son to dual wield a light saber in the garage. The dog barked madly and tried to snatch the sabers out of the sky as they swung.

When Ben declared his fighting was more like "dancing with swords" Leon wasn't entirely sure that was a compliment.

The baby chose that moment to make a huge shit in her pants that scared the dog and made the garage smell like Tall Oaks post outbreak. Without much remorse, Leon left the life of the Jedi behind to bathe the stinky baby.

Claire was fiddling in their room and cursing.

Curious about it, he stuck his head around the door and called, "What's eatin your ass, Redfield?"

Claire poked her head out of their room and gave him a droll look, "I can't fit in my pants. My new ones. The ones I just bought a month ago. I'm so fat I, literally, can't zip my pants up."

He shrugged, "Me either. I find stretchy waistbands work like a charm."

He poked his fat belly out and the baby laughed, slapping it with her wet hands. He winked and kissed her nose that was covered with bubbles. "Who cares, Claire? Stop worrying about it. Go buy new pants."

Claire cursed and muttered in their room until she emerged in yoga pants and a t-shirt.

"Mr. Kennedy - the new world order begins after christmas. I'm done looking like Claire Bear- Pooh Bear's fat sister."

He laughed and kissed her belly. "You look beautiful. But to be sure, I'm gonna need you to show me your tits."

She smacked his head and watched him bathe the baby. A handful of moments passed before he looked up at her, "What?"

"...nothing. You're just so gentle with her. Usually I have to nag you to death to get you to bathe her."

He sighed, hating his other self. "New world order right? I meant it, Claire. That asshole I was? He's gone."

She smiled and turned his face upside down to kiss him, "...good. I missed you."

Jesus. His heart hurt. He missed her too. Every minute of every day that he'd never known he could have this with her. He missed all the things he'd never have. He missed knowing he might wake up and find this gone...just like that.

Terror had new meaning to a man that feared nothing.

But he smiled and winked, "I'm right here, sweetheart. You sure you want to keep me?"

Her face was so serious. She kissed his nose, upside down, and Gigi giggled and threw water around them like confetti. But Claire didn't laugh. She just touched his mouth and murmured, "I can't think of anything I'd want more."

His heart - he wasn't sure it would survive this life that wasn't his.
......

His first day pretending to be a principle went as well as expected. He managed to get through it, somehow. Sherry was surprisingly helpful.

She helped him not completely make an ass of himself.

When he picked Ben up from school, the boy mused, "Earth is weird huh?"

And Leon just laughed.

Ben, always curious, inquired, "What's it like on your planet?"

Leon replied, studiously, "Well, I'm a secret agent there."

"...really?" The boy sounded completely unconvinced. "You? You're just a dad."

Leon chuckled and mused, "Here I am. Sure. There? I'm fast and the best marksman around. I once killed eighteen bad guys in a row - with perfect head shots."

"...pffft!" Ben giggled, scoffing, "Uncle Chris says you can't even hit duh broad side of a barn!"

Douche.

Leon rolled his eyes, "That's probably just because he wants to go punch it first."

Ben giggled. "He is like Superman, Dad. He's ALL MUSCLESSSS!" Ben roared like a lion and punched the seat.

Great. Redfield was super dad, the Sperminator, and Captain Underwear all rolled into one. Asshole. There was no competing with that, but still pride made Leon muse, "I was better than Uncle Chris in my world."

Ben giggled again, "You still is, Dad...at Tetris."

Well, at least some victories still remained.

"But not at farting, Dad. You need to work on that. Even Aunt Jill farts better than you sometimes."

Ok. OK. CLEARLY it was time to redeem himself. He could NOT be outfarted by a girl. Even if Jill was a dude with tits most days.

"Nothing but beans and soda for this guy then."

Ben giggled. "Me too. Let's STINK MOM OUT!"

The rallying cry of the modern male, it seemed, was working together to crush anyone with a vagina with the stench of flatulence. And so a pact was made to out fart Uncle Chris and Aunt Jill, by using Claire as their scapegoat, by Valentine's Day. He was looking forward to also showing that roided man candy how to shoot by then too.

He could hardly wait to school Redfield once more with a gun.

"Do you get all the girls in your world too?"

Leon glanced at his son in the rearview mirror, "None as pretty as your Mom."

Ben grinned and imitated Claire's voice, waving her hand by her face, "Oh, Leon, you charmer!" It was high pitched and girly and followed by a flutter of his lashes.

Clearly this was his actual sperm at work here. This child was him - from the jokes to the questions to the natural curiosity. Leon blasted a fart into the seat and watched his son dissolve into a storm of laughter.

The laughter came to a screeching halt when he was cruising by the RPD station to find Claire and Wesker standing outside together talking with their heads close.

The bastard touched her arm and she tugged it away, shaking her head.

Leon rolled the car to a stop at the light, considering things. Claire poked the former captain of the S.T.A.R.S. in the chest and spun away, stalking back inside. Wesker looked pissed. It was a good moment.

Wesker; rejected.

His gaze crossed the traffic to laser in on Leon's and Leon tipped his imaginary hat at the other blonde man.

Wesker bowed and signaled humping the air where Claire had been.

Apparently, it was game on.

He just didn't understand that Leon Kennedy didn't lose.
......

A certain Tuesday was nearly the death of him as he tried to teach Sherry how to drive.

Claire, worried, announced, "Lord...the blind leading the dumb."

And he found out why. Somehow? There was a worse driver in the world than him after all.

Sherry nearly killed them three times before it was over. She put them in a ditch and took out the neighbors mailbox and nearly ran over the dog. Leon was so nerve fried by the time they returned home that he had a beer and took a bath to unwind.

Amused, Claire called from the bedroom, "You survive?"

"It was skin of the teeth, woman. Seriously."

"The baby just went down. You too tired to give me a driving lesson too?"

Amused, he exited the bathtub. She was wiggling out of her yoga pants and tossing her shirt. He watched her little butt wiggle and dropped his towel.

She was already giggling as he grabbed her and tossed her on the bed, announcing, "Hold on, sweetheart, it's gonna be a bumpy ride."

Claire rolled him to his back and declared, "You kidding? Let me show you what it's like when Leon Kennedy gets wrecked instead."

Lord. He hurt with love for her.

And she fucked him so hard he was half sure she killed him.

It was the first time he wasn't at all concerned with dying.
......

It took him about three weeks to really be able to run again. The first week was miserable. He threw up once trying to get his stride.

By the third week, he was in it to win it. The belly was history. He was going to defeat it if it killed him. It wasn't saving the world, but his muscles were weeping with misery by the time he was finished working out.

He kinda wanted it to be over with.

Claire watched him from the window of the house as he fell, fell again, and fell another time trying to back flip. He was bruised and tore up when he came in every evening, but he landed it. Finally, after about three days of trying.

Chris mercilessly jerked his chain and gave him shit at the range, but it didn't matter - he was going to shoot again if that killed him too.

He got to the point that changing a diaper was like a competition. He could change the baby, mop the floor, answer the phone, cook dinner, help with homework, grade papers, handle budget reports and balance their checkbook all at the same time.

Multitasking became his new purpose in life. Where "other" Leon had failed, he excelled.

He kept Claire bowlegged with fucking her.

Any time she turned around, there he was filling her up.

She didn't have time to cheat with that slime-ball Wesker even if he tried his hardest.

And he tried. He called. He sent flowers to her desk at work. He tracked her around to attempt to woo her. He was determined. Apparently, rejection didn't suit him at all.

It might have gone away with time, but he made the mistake of leaning against her one day in the parking lot by her car. Which wasn't such a big deal, on most days, but on this day her husband showed up to take her to lunch.

And her husband? He wasn't a guy who just sat around while another man scammed on his woman. He just wasn't.

Not anymore.

Claire's voice carried in the cold air. "Albert...please. You have to stop. I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea here. But there's nothing between us."

"Claire," UGH - that weaslely whining tone of his grated on the nerves as Leon crossed the concrete toward them, "He can't be making you feel like I did. We both know that. Leon Kennedy? That idiot is so over rated. Even his haircut is tired."

REALLY. That was just so untrue it was painful. His haircut was ICONIC. Damn that viking faced fuck.

"Well, maybe if I wear sunglasses at night, I can elevate from tired to trite"

Wesker leaned away from Claire, brows arched, "You're already both, Kennedy. As well as lazy and fat. If you want to complete the list of all your loser qualities, you can also add boring and plebeian."

Leon laughed, eyes flashing, "As opposed to cliche and melodramatic? Which bad B-Movie are you from, Albie? Universal Soldier? Or He-Man?"

"Ah, Dolph Lundgren references. How original." Sneered the former freak show turned normal dude that doubled as an office pervert.

"Yeah...see the thing is though? He's not nearly as bad of an actor as you are. At least he gets paid to be stupid."

"Really? Because you do that so well for free."

It was really too late for it. Leon swung first and Wesker ducked. Claire shouted. And he remembered he wasn't a hero anymore. He wasn't Agent Kennedy.

He was just Leon.

His fist hit the car and the metal rang with the attack. It hurt so bad his eyes teared up. Wesker laughed and kicked him in the hip. He went spinning, hit a patch of ice, and ended up on his ass.

Just like that - all his bravado bit him in the balls like a snake.

How many times was it going to take to remind him he was "him" and this wasn't his life?"

He wasn't some guy in a video game. He was just a paunchy principle. His days of kicking Albert Wesker's ass were over.

Since the dawn of time, sentiments like this have been the reason that the underdog begins to rise. When faced with truly insurmontable odds and almost complete abject failure, the bottom of the barrel somehow find their way back from the edge of utter ruin. It was on such an auspicious occasion, that Leon Kennedy would do the same.

As Wesker laughed, and Claire ran to help him up, Leon somehow found his fight under the layer of complete and total saturating shame.

He might not have the moves anymore, but no one, anywhere, would say he'd lost the fight.

He turned, ballled up his hands, and from his ass on the pavement - he delivered a blow for all mankind against the sociopath megalomaniac that had once attempted to dominate all man kind...and gave that tyrant a truly admirable double-fisted blow to the babymakers that would guarantee Albert Wesker NEVER had another chance to populate the world with his inferior sperm.

Leon brought his fists of fury right up between those skinny chicken legs and nut punched the former Captain of the S.T.A.R.S. so hard that he was more likely to see stars than lead them to peril.

Wesker somehow turned whiter than he already was, gripped his boys like they were his lifeline, and fell backward on his butt in a mound of snow.

Claire shouted, "Leon!" In horror and wavering amusement.

Someone was running across the lot toward them.

It was chaos.

It was madness.

It was pretty fucking great.

And so it was that it was Leon - One and Albert Wesker - Double Zero.

Besides any former hero will tell you one simple truth: Sometimes? You had to win the battle by fighting like a bitch.

From the steps of the R.P.D., someone started laughing.

Maybe it wasn't his perfect world...but with everyone laughing at Albert Wesker while he rolled on the ground clutching his busted ballsack? It was pretty damn close.

Chapter 8: A Million Dreams

GLIMPSE:

A Resident Evil Short Story
.....

Starring:

Leon S. Kennedy and Claire Redfield
....

Guest Starring:

Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Sherry Birkin, Albert Wesker and the Ghost of Ada Wong
.....

Part Eight:

A Million Dreams
.....

Raccoon City - 2006

There was little enough to do when you were a highschool principle. After dealing with drama, sexting during class issues, a jock stealing ADHD meds from his girlfriend, and a handful of kids cutting class to get high behind the dumpster - he was ready for the stagnant joy of his office. To his initial joy, Sherry had left the computer cued up to a fanfiction website.

There were various categories and he spent the first half an hour discovery on a strange fascination with the world of Sonic the Hedgehog that he wished he could unsee. But none of it prepared him for what happened when he clicked on the RESIDENT EVIL icon. A stupid thing - a blinking eyeball? And what kind of name was RESIDENT EVIL, in all caps like it was meant to scare you?

Shit. It was bio-terror. Couldn't they have come up with a better name?

Like Biohazard Badass or something?

He chuckled, clicking on some of the links.

Apparently, his character was popular. He was quite the ladies man. In multiple stories, he was banging chics like a rock star. Amused, he clicked through some writer's fertile playground where he spent way too much time with Jill Valentine's character. Chuckling, he mused, "We never even worked together. What kind of a couple does that make? The imagination is a crazy place."

He clicked off "The Frosty Lady" profile and almost closed the whole thing down...when he saw a single story that stopped him in his tracks. It was entitled Love Among the Ruins - Two Heroes, Two Hundred Days. It was a car wreck - he just couldn't look away. It was his character, being a lothario again, but not with the ladies. Oh no. Oh no at all. It was his character being a lothario...with Chris Redfield's.

It was so well written, by the perverted Frosty Lady, who was CLEARLY no lady at all, that is was hard to pick it apart besides a few grammatical errors made by a rushed, and probably giggling, girl. But the content. THE CONTENT. It was filthy! It was him playing the catcher to the overly buffed out boulder punching butthole that was related to his wife.

It was mortifying.

He shouted, slapping his desk, "I would never bottom for that monkey!" Although honestly would it hurt? After the roids, Redfield likely had a dick like a bowling alley pencil. How bad could it hurt to have that shoved up your shitter?

Leon muttered and cursed, closing down the screen just as Sherry wandered in. "Sup, old timer. You ready to roll?"

He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he gathered his briefcase. He was so wrapped up in picturing the horror of him "submitting to the splendiforous embrace of a man's ecstasy" that he didn't even notice Sherry nearly side swipe a mini-van, or potentially run over the neighbor's dog, or fail to yield at a four way and almost cause an accident. Sherry, cruising half in the wrong lane, remarked, "What's with you?"

He shook his head, grumbling, "What kinda trashy shit do you read anyway? You read about man ramming and stuff like that?"

She blinked, twice, and finally laughed. Her pink hair jiggled in the funky braids she had tucked around her elfin face. "Man ramming? What the hell were you reading?"

He shifted in his seat, pouting, "Some stupid crap. What's M-Preg?"

She nearly ran over a lady carrying a bag of groceries as she swerved while laughing. The woman's cursing chased them down the street as Sherry giggled, "M-Preg!? Are kidding?"

"Yeah. Some stupid story had m-er-I mean-some dude," He lifted his hands to air quote, "M-pregged by another dude. What is that?"

Sherry giggled again as she pulled the car into the driveway and nearly hit Claire's station wagon. "That's male pregnancy, Kennedy. The dude in your story? He's knocked up by another dude."

Oh no.

Oh HELL NO.

His face paled. His teeth snapped together and he shouted, "Are you fucking kidding!? In what universe do two dude's get pregnant!?"

Sherry shrugged, leaping from the car in her ripped tights and combat boots, with her skirt and hoodie in army green. She chewed her gum, smacking her black lips. "It's a thing, dude. Don't flip out. Just chill and go with it. Why not? To each their own right?"

She raced inside, looking like Harley Quinn waiting for the Joker.

People were writing stories where he was impregnated by Chris Redfield. The Frosty Lady was NO lady. She was a tramp! A slut. A purveyor of filthy lies! If he ever met her, he was going to destroy her for writing such senseless garbage where he was the star. How dare she impugn his good name!? He was a HERO! A HERO! Not a bitch boy bottom to Roidfield.

Oh he was on fire. He was lit. He was so angry it echoed across the valley as he slammed into the house.

Claire was in the middle of cooking dinner and wiped her hands on the towel, seeing his face. "Bad day?"

He pointed at her and declared, "Take off your pants and meet me in the bedroom. I'm gonna drill you into the mattress."

Her face flushed and her eyes twinkled. "Thank god for bad days huh? Ben won't be home for another hour from soccer with Jill and Chris. The babies down for a nap. Have I been a bad girl?"

She blinked at the look on his face. No humor there. He looked like a bull blowing and pawing the earth. It made her blood catch fire as she kicked off her slippers. One hit the wall beside him, the other knocked over the lamp and sent it to the floor. She grabbed at her apron and jerked on it, getting fired up.

"Oh, you're mad."

He nodded, jerking at his tie. "Yeah. I'm mad. I'm a MAN, Claire! A MAN! Your brother is NOT better than me."

She tilted her head, curious about his mood. "No? He's bigger." That worked, she thought wildly, he was REALLY fired up now. It made her laugh as he grabbed her, half dressed and all, and launched her over his shoulder.

"Enough of that, woman. I'll show you who's bigger."

She was still laughing as he kicked their door closed to prove what kind of man he was.

It was pretty amusing to Claire that Leon didn't even come out of their bedroom when Jill and Chris arrived to drop off Ben. He was pouting about something, though she wasn't sure what. She finished making dinner while he played with Gigi and Ben.

They were always begging for him to sing to them, so she listened as he did. When he started, she cut her thumb as her hands jerked in surprise.

There were so many things about him that hand changed. Sometimes she wondered if she was looking at the same man. He was working out, he was home on time, he didn't drink. He looked at her like she moved mountains. He spoke to her like his tongue was made of silver. He was perfect. The perfect man she'd met all those years ago had become the perfect husband.

He loved her. He loved his children. He was happy and healthy and virile. He fucked her bow legged and cooked for her. She was so happy. She was almost afraid of it.

And now this.

This.

She listened, setting down the knife to rinse her bleeding thumb in the sink. He'd always been half decent at singing. Not bad; not great. Like he had potential if he ever really applied himself. But, like in all things, Leon never applied himself to anything. He half assed his way through life on good looks and unrealized talent.

She froze, listening to the thought as it crossed her mind. It was true. She'd always felt like Leon was stagnant in his life. He'd died when his father did, letting himself become a shadow of himself. Somehow, he was alive again. He'd been reborn, resurrected or something, and she was afraid he'd just die again while she was busy holding on too tight.

But the voice of the man in the living room...it wasn't his. It wasn't. It was the voice of a man who'd really lived or something. His voice was rich, flawless, lilting and smooth like aged whiskey. He infused the song with something that made her breath catch.

She didn't recognize the song at all, but the sentiment moved her to grip the sink and love him. Painfully.

I close my eyes and I can see
The world that's waiting up for me
That I call my own
Through the dark, through the door
Through where no one's been before
But it feels like home

They can say, they can say it all sounds crazy
They can say, they can say I've lost my mind
I don't care, I don't care, so call me crazy
We can live in a world that we design

Claire looped a napkin around her thumb and leaned on the archway, watching him sing. Gigi was in her bouncy seat, sucking her thumb. Ben was on his lap with his head on his shoulder. The guitar was over the boy and the man together as he played.

Sherry was sitting on the floor beside his leg, leaning her head on his knee. Angry teen? No. She was a girl who'd become his daughter. She grinned at Claire and bobbled her brows. "He's good right?"

He was. So good. Being with him? It was just...good.

He must have felt her looking and glanced at her, winking.

She shifted into the room, moving over to perch on the arm of the couch beside them. Her hand slid against his shoulder and tightened. He leaned his face against her arm for a moment and stole her heart.

There's a house we can build
Every room inside is filled
With things from far away
The special things I compile
Each one there to make you smile
On a rainy day

Every night I lie in bed
The brightest colors fill my head
A million dreams are keeping me awake
A million dreams, a million dreams
I think of what the world could be
A vision of the one I see
A million dreams is all it's gonna take
A million dreams for the world we're gonna make

For the world we're gonna make

Ben joined him on the chorus and had her eyes tears up. The quiet slid around them as he finished before the boy murmured, "I like that song, Dad. You make that up?"

Of course not, Leon mused, it was from some musical a hundred years in the future. But they couldn't know that. But the truth was, it felt right to him. The dreams were this life he was living. It a million of them, made real from a guy who'd dreamed them and never had any hope of them happening.

And he was here, waiting, to wake up.

Keeping it light, he shrugged, "Sure. Good stuff?"

Claire said nothing, still gripping his shoulder. He glanced up at her and felt his stomach flip a little. Apparently, she thought it was good. She looked moved by it.

She dropped a kiss to his forehead and cleared her throat, rising, "Good. Yep. Dinner is ready."

They ate and talked about their day. It was all perfectly normal. It was all perfectly simple.

In their bedroom, she was so quiet. He kept hoping he hadn't made her mad. He knew he'd made wild love to her earlier. Maybe she hated his song?

But she turned to him and without saying a word, she handed him his guitar. He held it, watching her as she settled on the small settee by the window. She tilted her head at him and instructed, quietly, "Show me who you are."

He waited, watching her quietly. She nodded, looking at him earnestly. "I don't know who you are. I swear I don't. Not anymore. But I want to. I need to." She inhaled, sharply, and declared, "Show me who you are."

Nervous, he strummed the guitar. And gave her the only truth he knew.

I think about you every time
I take a breath and then
I let it go
I remember when you were mine
But you were just a dream
I used to hold

That voice, she thought wildly, she was in love with it. It had so much pain behind it, so much feeling. Where was the numb man she'd become some accustomed to?

I think about the way you used to say my name
And how it made me feel everything
Now am looking for anyway
To make it through one thing
The morning

He was hurting for her like she wasn't right here. But she got it. She did. She understood. They'd been dead to each other for so long. Was this the way back from that? To mourn the loss and find each other again. She'd nearly left him a few months before. They both knew it. She was pretty sure they'd stopped even seeing each other.

But he hadn't. This song said...he wasn't blind to her, he was blinded by her.

Now there's no sleep

Cause every star
Is lighting up,
Following these memories haunting
Knowing there's so much of you am still wanting
Here with me
I pray for the dark
Cause if it comes
Maybe some how I'll be alright
If I could just turn out the night

She covered her mouth with her hands and felt the shimmer of the pain that was their love. She was hoping, maybe, she had the cure for them. How did you heal a life time of pain?

If only I
Could just close my eyes
I'll finally be over you

He stopped, lifting his eyes to her. She shook her head, feeling the tears spill onto her cheeks as she shifted her hands and whispered, "I'll never get over you. Ever. I'm sorry about everything. All of it. The drifting...how we lost each other...where we ended up here...I'm so sorry. You have to forgive me, Leon."

Jesus Christ. It was all the words he'd wished she'd said in the world where he'd love a girl he'd never have.

It was all the right words - but this Claire? She wasn't to blame. Whatever Leon she'd loved, that guy wasn't worthy of her. This Claire was his dream girl. She didn't owe him any apologies.

He shifted toward her and she dropped her hands from her face to open her arms to him. He scooped her close and breathed her in.

"Claire...it was never you. It was me. It was always me. There's nothing to forgive."

And it was that simple.

There was nothing to forgive. Claire had never done anything that needed forgiving. He'd made the choice to stay behind. He'd made the choice to fight the world alone. He'd made the choice to leave himself without an escape hatch, a life, a love worth living for. She was innocent.

And he loved her too much to blame her anymore for his own failures.

He clutched her face and turned it up to him, "It's me who needs forgiving, Claire."

She shook her head, laughing lightly, "For what? Just keep singing, and I'll do anything you want."

They kissed, smooth and soft. It turned wet and needy. He tugged her shirt off to help himself to her breasts. She unhooked his belt and the zipper of his pants was loud in the room.

Her face shimmered when he drew back, like a fuzzy frame on a camera. It took a handful of seconds for him to focus on her. Over her left shoulder, Ada Wong was sitting on the dresser.

She winked, shrugging a little. He was suddenly in his bedroom with Claire's mouth on his dick and Ada Wong watching them like a voyeur.

Claire swallowed him down as Ada purred, "She can't see me, handsome. Just you. You put me here for a reason? Maybe you wanted me to be your cuck, huh? You like to have a girl watch anyway. We both know that. Remember in Rio? You fucked that model on the balcony while the other one fingered herself watching you. Good times huh? This is a little more domestic than that though?"

Claire hummed around his dick and his hands shot into her hair, gripping. His body tightened with pleasure but he couldn't answer. Claire would think he was nuts if she found him talking to a ghost.

Ada tilted her head, "She's good. Listen to her? She's like a pro."

Claire curled her tongue, his knees tried to spill him forward, and his mouth opened on a sharp breath. Ada twinkled happily, musing., "You gonna cum? Don't waste it. You want her to get pregnant right? So you can pretend this isn't a dream? It's not real, Leon. You can't keep it. Stop trying to make it your life. It's not yours. She's not yours. This? It's a glimpse."

Claire let go of his dick. It made a sucking sound as she did. She dragged him down and pushed him to his back on the floor. He couldn't stop her, didn't want to, as she mounted him there and her t-shirt cocooned around her torso as she straddled him and rode his body.

Ada appeared above her, taunting him, "Feel good? It's not real. She's not real. She's not yours. This life isn't yours."

Leon's hands shot up to grip into Claire's sweaty hair. He dragged her down to tongue her mouth. She moaned, her body sucked him in, she clenched and quivered. They kissed until her mouth was rosy and red. He grunted, "...mine."

And her face flushed as she gasped, "...ditto. Don't forget it."

But she wasn't. She wasn't.

He ground her hips to hold her. He surged. She gasped and held him down with her hands fisted in his shirt. He came in her while she swirled him inside her.

And she was.

She was his. She had to be. Even if it was just a handful of moments. She had to be his. He didn't know if he could stand it if she wasn't.

Ada shook her head, watching him. "You're losing focus. Don't forget why you're here."

She shimmered and was gone. Claire gasped, falling atop him as she orgasmed. Her body jerked and sucked his until he thought they'd both die. Sweaty, she slumped on him.

He clutched her body, feeling himself soften inside of her.

Jesus. If she wasn't real, what was?

Above him, she breathed, "...Leon...?"

He kissed her slick forehead, panting like he'd run ten miles. "...yeah?"

She laid her cheek over his racing heart and whispered, "...I'm pregnant."

Real.

That's what was real. He wasn't pregnant. He wasn't. That wasn't possible. But this was. There was a pregnancy alright but it was with the RIGHT Redfield this time.

He'd gotten Claire pregnant. He wasn't fixed. He was still him. He was about to have a baby. If he was here long enough to see it. How did he keep them? How did he stay?

He didn't know how he'd survive it if he didn't.

It was just a baby. A gift. A simple thing.

A beautiful moment. It was all balanced on a blade of a knife.

He'd never been more afraid.

Chapter 9

A/N: This is one from the end on this little guy. The humor really leaves us here as we start to see the threads tie together toward the end of his glimpse. Thank you for all comments and the encouragement. Before we reach the end, drop me a comment and see if you can guess how it will end or give me your thoughts on what's next for our hero. After all, not everything has to end happily ever after.

GLIMPSE:

A Resident Evil Short Story

Starring:

Leon S. Kennedy and Claire Redfield

Guest Starring:

Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Sherry Birkin, Albert Wesker and the Ghost of Ada Wong

Part Nine:

Never Enough

Raccoon City - 2006

Truth is sometimes the thing that is most elusive in the great wide world. It's often subjective, curiously misinterpreted, or cleverly concealed. For Leon Kennedy, it was also impossible to determine.

For a man with an IQ that someone had jokingly called "practically a genius" (his last IQ test had put him a single point behind the genius mark), the truth was a thing he was having trouble holding onto. What was real? What was the lie? What world was really his world?

Had he fallen asleep and dreamed his entire life?

Was he a man who'd only imagined, after playing a video game, that he was a hero in a world ripe with bioterror?

Was he, and had he always been, just a principle?

Unsure, Leon shifted in his chair at his desk. The longer he spent here, the more he questioned himself. What was his world? Was this his world? Had he been so far down the depression ladder that he'd, literally, dreamed away most of his life? Was he Leon S. Kennedy - super hero? Or was he Leon Kennedy - highschool principle, police academy drop out, and potbellied poor excuse of a husband?

The pen he tapped on his desk had no answers.

Before he could do much in the way of thinking of it, there was a shout from outside his office, "Leon! Hurry!"

A familiar feeling sprang through him at the urgency in her tone and the adrenaline shot like a needle in the chest as he was spurred from his chair and into the hallway at a run.

Two boys were in the fight of their lives against each other. One was a brute - huge and muscular, an athlete clearly who was likely abusing steroids to try to fulfill his college ambitions - the kind who would peek in high school and probably end up working at a gas station for the rest of his adult life. He was beating the shit out of a regular boy with glasses and a tuba - the Leon Kennedy nerd of the bunch, who would likely become a super hero when he filled out and ditched puberty.

The cheering and taunting abated the second he emerged but the crowd didn't disperse even as he moved to wade in.

He lodged himself between the two of them as the smaller boy went for a groin kick and the bigger kid reared back for a bitch slap.

Leon shouted, "ENOUGH!" And put himself between them. When they struggled around him, grunting like animals, he shoved against them both growling, "I said KNOCK IT OFF!"

And Peeked in Highschool shouted, "I'll KNOCK HIS DICK OFF!"

Jesus. God save him from the roids. Where was Redfield when he needed him to give a speech about the dangers of using?

And the smaller kid taunted, "I'd do the same but you'd have to find it first!"

Yep. Definitely a baby Leon in the making. He just didn't know when the fuck to shut his mouth.

Leon saw it coming. He did. But, in his defense, he didn't think a kid would actually be stupid enough to take a swing with the principle standing in the way. So he got a fistful of an angry teenage wrath right in the mouth. The regular kid immediately retreated, shouting, "HOLY SHIT! You punched Mr. Kennedy!"

And Peeked in Highschool roared, "He should have got his fat ass outta my way!"

Well that was enough of that. Leon rose with a mouthful of blood and meant to assert his authority by sending the damn kid to in school suspension, but a strange thing happened. The kid swung again, as enraged youth will often do, and he just...missed. Leon shifted and the fist hit the locker with a clang of steel. His hands moved as he gripped the wrist and the extended arm, murmured, softly, "There's nothing I hate more than hopped up assholes beating on anything smaller than them. I believe I said enough."

The boy spat, shaking with rage, "What are you gonna do old man? You're just like him...a fucking LOSER."

"Kid, you're about as dumb as a boulder punch."

Leon's boot shifted, it smashed down on the kid's instep. He roared with rage as Leon wrenched his arm to throw him off balance, jerked and turned, and launched the kid over his left shoulder. He hip tossed him, like it was nothing, like it was something he did every single day.

Because he did.

He did.

In another life.

As the boy flew, the laughter supporting him stifled. It trailed off. It deadened. The boy rolled to a stop on the floor and Leon jerked him to his feet to slam him back against the locker. "Next time you pick on someone half your size, remember that high school doesn't last forever. Eventually - the roids wear off. And the nerds have a tendency to grow up to rule the world."

He shoved the kid one more time with a crossbar of his arm across the chest and security finally arrived to take him away.

The hallway was filled with silence as he turned. The regular kid finally broke it by breathing, "Mr. Kennedy...that was fucking SICK."

He shook his head, sighing. But Sherry was staring at him with something like shock. He said nothing as he crossed by her to his office. He barely shut the door before his hands grabbed his desk and he bared down, hard, until the wood groaned under the assault.

That wasn't a principle out there.

It wasn't a normal guy.

It was fast, smooth, efficient - it was training. Whatever he'd forgotten...his body remembered.

He whispered, determinedly, "Nope. Just instinct. That's all it was. Instinct."

Did he think the universe would disagree with him?

The silence of the room was his only answer.

Gigi said her first word at dinner that night. It was through a mouthful of peas that she shouted, "SHIT!" at the top of her lungs when Leon informed her that she was nothing but trouble for the mess she'd made.

It gave Claire pause at the stove as she turned and gave him a pointed look.

He feigned deafness as he picked at his potatos and Ben came to his rescue, "Gigi, sheesh, that's trash talk! Save that for when you have a fist fight. You had one today, right, Dad? Did you use trash talk during it?"

Leon winced.

Claire turned again to stare at him. "You did what?"

And Sherry joined the fray as she flounced into the room in a huge army green jacket and ripped tights. She looked like Courtney Love and Kurt Cobain's love child. "Dad got into a huge fight with Ronnie the Roid Rager this afternoon."

Claire blinked twice, "The kid that looks like he swallowed a house?"

Sherry nodded gleefully, "Oh, yeah. The weird thing?"

Claire put a plate down for Sherry and gained her own seat, wiping gunk off Gigi's mouth as she did. "What's the weird thing?"

"Dad just..." She made a whistling sound and used her hands to signal shooting punching, "Kicked his ass."

Claire looked like someone had just told her that she was staring in her own stories where she fucked a tyrant. She had, he'd read a few of them, and had to admit the image was horrorifying. But she sounded so surprised as her voice lilted highly, "Leon!?"

Seriously?

What kind of a douche was he?

To answer that, Sherry remarked, "I know! The same guy who can't even throw a punch without falling over. You should have seen him, he was like a different dude."

It was official - in this life, there was nothing redeeming about him. He couldn't shoot. He couldn't fight. He couldn't fuck. He was fat, lazy, stupid and selfish. He had good hair and too many girlfriends and a wife he didn't deserve. He had adorable kids that seemed to like him, and a dog that never left his side.

But he was just a man. A man. A simple, slightly paunchy, parody of himself written by the universe in a way that was almost as hard to swallow as the image of himself in flagrante delicto with Chris Redfield between his legs. He looked around to see if the heinous Frost Lady was somewhere secretly crafting this asinine tale of his own destruction because he was starting to think the universe was trying to make a mockery out of his life. But which life? The one he was in? The one he remembered?

What world was his world?

He was ripping down the middle as he tried to make sense of it.

No. No. He knew this was his life. This was. This one. He'd gotten Claire pregnant. He had a basement filled with video games that EXACTLY DESCRIBED the life he remembered. That life had been his Glimpse. This one? This was him waking up.

It was his second chance to make it right here.

It was that simple.

Over Claire's head, the face of Ada Wong was judging him. She was sitting on the counter watching them eat. She tilted her head, "Do you really believe that?"

He ignored her, feeling the claws of fear latch into his heart. He did. He had to. He had to believe it.

Or he wasn't sure he'd survive the other choice.

Claire glanced at him and mused, "You been keeping secrets from me?"

He shook his head, trying to find his voice under the lump in his throat, "Every guy can throw a punch, Claire."

Sherry snorted, "You can't. You hit like a girl."

Leon grit his teeth, "Just because I don't pick fights with rocks like Redfield, doesn't mean I can't."

Claire laughed, musically, "Come on, honey. You know you can't figure out how to even make a fist without tucking your thumb in."

He hated women. He did. They were so cruel. Sherry giggled a bit and added, "And that one time you tried to fight Uncle Chris and ended up wrapped into a human pretzel sniffing your own ass."

Claire cautioned, "Sherry, language."

"Sorry. For the record though? Hilarious."

In this life he was the nerd. He was the nerd getting his ass kicked by the jock on steroids. He was the loser. He was. It was mortifying.

But Ben filled the void by saying, "Uncle Chris is a bully! Anybody can be a bully! A real man knows when to fight and when to walk away!"

The silence stretched long and hard around the table. Embarassed, Claire cleared her throat, "...you are absolutely right. We owe your Dad an apology."

But Sherry shrugged, "Why? Truth hurts. Dad's great...but he's not a fighter. There's no shame in that. If this was the Walking Dead, Dad would be Eugene instead of Rick. There's nothing wrong with that."

Claire added, supportively, "Or Commissioner Gordon!"

Sherry piped in, "Or what's his face in those games you're always playing...Carlos? You know, handsome, says corny shit, but doesn't let you down?"

There was no way to take it back. It was out there. In this world, he was somehow the support. He was Alfred the Butler. A secondary act. A joke. A useless lothario like Carlos Oliveira.

Claire shrugged, "You can't all be Dante, babe."

And there it was. He was no Dante from Devil May Cry. He was a shadow of that. A stereotypical middle aged patriarch of a nice family.

Leon shook his head, rising from the table. Behind Claire, Ada shimmered and remarked, "See? You can't be happy here. You're not YOU here, Leon. Let this go. Wake up."

He almost snarled it, softly, "...fuck off."

Claire went wide eyed. Sherry stopped eating in mid bite. "...dude, I'm sorry."

He shook his head again, "No...it's-not you. Never mind. Just..." He slipped out the room.

And Ben rolled his eyes, "Look what you did! You bullies!...women."

He stared at himself in the mirror until he nearly went blind. The ghost of Ada appeared behind him, apparently sent there to taunt him.

"Tell me what you want." He spoke softly, urgently. He knew, he had to know, he was running out of time here.

Ada cocked her head, "What do I want? What do you want, honey? You're here. You're dreaming. This is your glimpse. Wake up. Let this go and wake up. This isn't your life."

He shook his head, "No. No. This is my life. This is it. What came before was the dream."

Ada tilted her head the other way, "Do you really believe that?"

He nodded, closing his eyes and squeezing them. "You're not real. It wasn't real. It's just me...cracking or something. I'm losing my mind. This isn't a dream. It can't be. I can feel her. I can smell her. I can laugh with them and love them and hold them. That can't be a lie, Ada. It has to be real."

"Does it?" Hands slid against his face and he could smell her again - Shalimar and cherry blossoms. She pressed herself between the sink and against him. Her mouth nipped at his and drew a small sound of fear from him.

"See, Leon?" She purred it, "What's real? I'm dead. But here I am. You can smell me, hear me...taste me."

She nuzzled open his mouth to kiss him. His hands shifted to her arms to pin her to the sink but he kissed her back. The taste of her was something he'd always remember. The hate and want of her fired through his blood like poison.

Ada let go of the kiss and whispered, "See? What's real, Leon? All the want in the world doesn't make it real."

His eyes opened. His breath hitched. She kept hold of his face as he whispered, "I can't go back. I can't. I'll die there."

She looked at him sadly, but steadily and returned, "Maybe you already are."

Jesus.

His heart thumped, hard, behind his breast bone. Was he? Was he dead? Was he lost? But he whispered, "Then let me stay."

She kissed him again, gently, "Leon...it's not my choice. All of this...all of it...it's yours."

He clenched his eyes again. Her mouth shifted to his ear and her breath was warm against it as she added, softly, "Even superheroes die, Leon."

When he opened his eyes, she was gone.

And he was once again staring at a stranger in the mirror.

Things started to unravel a piece at a time.

It was a flicker of murky light that spread along the road and turned it silver. It was Gigi's laughter turning hollow and tinny until her face cracked and spilled like shattered glass until it reformed. It was Sherry's excitement at getting her driver's license turning dark as he lost a chunk of time and woke up on the ground with her above him pale faced and scared.

He taught Ben to ride a bike. He finally saw the end of his blubber gut. He stood at Claire's side at their first ultrasound and found out the baby was healthy. The heart palpitations started after that.

He was driving home and his heart just - stopped.

It seized in his chest. He lost control of the wheel and Claire grabbed it to steer them to the side of the road. Concerned, she called 911. He spent an afternoon in the hospital and went home with a diagnosis of acute anxiety disorder.

So now he was a nerd and a hypochondriac.

The joy continued.

The flashbacks happened randomly. He was throwing the ball with the dog and she caught it but another dog decided it was a good time to get in a scuffle with her. A fight ensued and the owner was afraid one would get hurt.

He waded into a fight with two dogs and wrangled the big one off his. He held it down until it's owner could restrain it. He wrestled a fucking dog and came out without a scratch.

A dickhead father at Ben's soccer game decided to pick a fight. There was the black out moment where Leon came back to himself with the other man in a head lock with people screaming. Ben regaled him with a story of how he'd fought Todd's dad "LIKE A BOSS!"

Ben began to believe that Leon was, indeed, a bad ass on his other planet.

At the range, he was improving, but not well enough. Until Redfield started shooting his mouth off one afternoon. It was the third time Leon was called "as blind as he was pretty" that he picked up the gun on the table between them and turned.

He put three into the eyes of the target and shifted, blasting apart the face of the one beside it. Without missing a beat, he turned the gun and fired one more time. There was a delay in sound before it hit. It took out the streetlight with a tinkle of breaking glass...at least three hundred yards away.

The gun tumbled out of his hands and plopped on the grass. Chris stared at him.

Jill rubbed her belly with her eyes wide.

Barry Burton hooted happily and slapped his back, "There he is! Remember when this kid had the best scores anyone had ever seen off a rookie!? Incredible. Is that gun still smoking?"

Leon turned on his heel and left the range.

He shook his head and glanced at his hands. They were shaking.

He was almost to his car when that taunting voice called to him, "You think because you've slimmed down and learned how to shoot she'll still love you? Ask yourself this - you had a vasectomy right? Then how the hell did you get your wife pregnant? You ever wonder who's baby she's carrying?"

It was the wrong time for Albert Wesker to challenge him.

It just was.

He turned and his fist whistled as it missed the other man by an inch. Wesker pummeled him twice in his exposed side for it. Leon countered and tried to elbow him in the face but it just got him a slap to his own that felt more insulting than painful.

He staggered, Wesker kicked him from the hip while he did it, and Leon hit the wall as he tumbled.

"Sucks doesn't it, Kennedy? Knowing I had her a thousand times while you were too busy being too blind to see it? She tastes like cherries between her thighs. She mewls like a kitten when she cums. But I'm guessing you wouldn't know about that...since she told me she's NEVER had an orgasm with you. Is it hard being a sniveling excuse of a man? Don't worry, when she finally leaves you, I'll take care of your kids like they're my own. You know...she used to call you her hero. How the mighty have fallen."

Wesker swung at him - and the world blackened.

He could feel it happen - the arm that came for him, the moment he caught the fist and stopped it. He reared back and headed butted the other man. They clashed like titans, pounding on each other in a way that the world likely should have collapsed around them in fire and brimstone. Whatever else was true, Albert Wesker was a hell of a pugilist. He fought like he died - burning alive in an endless inferno screaming in rage.

It was Claire screaming that brought the dark off his eyes.

Leon had the former Captain of the S.T.A.R.S. at the top of a flight of stairs, poised to kick him down them.

Claire shouted, "LEON! NO!"

The world shimmered like a humid day. His hands loosened, and Wesker took his moment.

His boot lifted and kicked Leon hard in the knee.

As Leon reeled, the other man backhanded him, gripped his belt and the back of his shirt and threw him down the stairs. Claire shouted in rage. People were running.

Leon rolled down the steps and protected himself as best as he could.

When he hit the bottom, Wesker was rolling him over and taunting, "Yeah...some fucking hero."

The moment he rolled him, Leon straight finger jabbed him right in the throat. Wesker reeled, gagging, and Leon hammered him twice in the nose with the heel of his hand. It crunched, throwing blood everywhere. Wesker staggered and Leon kicked him twice in the chest as he scissored his legs and leaped easily to his feet.

They circled each other like lions and Wesker spit blood on the ground, "So maybe not just a pretty face, huh?"

Leon laughed, rolling his neck. "I am still. You? You look like shit, old man. Quit flapping your lips and let's see how fucking ugly you can get before we're done."

"...you don't have the balls to finish me off, Kennedy. You never did."

"Yeah?" Leon tilted his head, "Because I've already fed you yours, you stupid bastard. Come get another taste."

Wesker charged him. Leon braced for it. And the formerly dead former Captain tackled him around the waist. Leon skidded as he held his feet, caught him around the hips and threw himself backward. The momentum lifted the other man up and sent them both to their backs on the concrete. As they hit, they both lost their breath.

Claire shouted, "FOR GOD'S SAKE STOP!"

And Leon rolled to his feet faster than Wesker.

A small victory, but a big one. As the other man struggled to his knees, Leon gripped his throat and spit, "You even look at her, ever again, and I'll make sure the only thing you ever fuck again will be yourself. I will rip your dick off and fuck you to death with it. I should kill you."

Claire froze as she drew close. Chris was beside her, wide eyed and staring.

Wesker laughed, spitting blood on the ground. His glasses were broken and useless on the concrete beside them. "It won't change the truth - I was the man your wife needed...and you never were. We both know who's baby she's carrying."

Leon flung him away, shaking his head with a laugh. "You're not even worth it. Once upon a time, you were a guy who was going to conquer the world...now? You're just a pathetic pervert who can't even satisfy his own wife...so you try to validate yourself by going after everyone else's. Take a look in the mirror, Al. I think we both know who the real failure is."

Wesker staggered a bit as he got to one knee, "Do we? Keep telling yourself that while you're plowing that belly full of my seed."

The slap was loud. It echoed. It rang. Claire slapped him down like she'd kill him with it. Wesker took it, putting a hand on the concrete as she nearly tossed him sideways with it.

And she spat, "How dare you...it's one thing to be a bastard...it's another to be a liar. I hope you burn in hell."

She grabbed Leon's hand and jerked him away across the parking lot. Little did she knew, the actual Wesker was, indeed, burning in hell somewhere. And the last fucking he'd ever gotten was an RPG crammed sideways up his ass.

Fuming, she whispered, "I'm so sorry. Are you alright? Did he hurt you?"

Leon shivered as they reached his car. He gripped the top of it as the world fractured and shimmered. It was like looking at her through a half dozen rainbows.

He spoke, urgently now, "Claire...listen to me...listen...I don't know how much time I have."

"What? What's wrong? Did you hit your head?"

"No...just listen...please. If there's-if there's any chance at all that somehow, anyhow, you remember me...just..." His hand touched her belly. It skimmed. Claire grabbed his face. "It's never enough, Claire. Ever. I should have gone with you. That day...I should have gone with you."

She shook her head, fading in and out, "What does that mean? What does it mean, Leon? What are you saying?"

Sitting on the roof of his car, Ada mused, "Say goodbye, Leon."

And he whispered, "I need more time. Please."

Claire shook her head, looking desperate, "You hit your head or something. I'll get help. Stay here."

"No. No! Claire listen...I don't have any time. I'm out of time. Tell Ben...tell him-" His voice cracked and he begged, "Please...not yet. Another day."

Ada shook her head, sadly. "I'm sorry. It doesn't work that way."

"Damnit...please. ANOTHER MINUTE!"

"I'm sorry. I am. When it's over, it's over. You know that."

He grabbed Claire to him. The baby in her belly gave at thump to his palm to signal it's presence. His heart jerked. Claire gasped, "Oh god...Leon!"

And down he went to the ground. She was shouting for help.

Ada tilted her head, "Always so dramatic. Wake up, Leon. It's time."

He gasped, his heart seizing. "I can't...I can't! I can't! What do you want!? What will it take!? I'll give you anything!"

And Ada shrugged, "This is good. Get through those stages, baby. Already onto bargaining huh? Wake up, Leon. AND LET GO."

"Daddy!"

Ben threw himself bodily atop him. Sherry and the baby stood over him weeping. His hands grasped at the boy, "I love you. Ben? I love you."

And the boy wept, "Please...stay. I'll be better. I'll help you. Don't leave me!"

But it wasn't his choice. Didn't they know that? It wasn't his choice!

Claire was screaming, "CHRIS! ANYONE! OH GOD! CHRIS!"

And Leon gasped, "...Claire..."

The black folded over him. It ate away at his mind. Ada's whisper slid wet and hot against his ear, "Even heroes die, Leon."

The dog leaned over him, white and blue, white and perfect. She licked his face.

And he woke up in the steady shimmer of darkness.

A truck horn sounded. His bike skidded on the wet road. He went down on his side and lost it. It threw sparks and screamed with metal. His body rolled into the grass and stopped.

He stopped.

He wasn't in the bottom of a canyon dying. He wasn't in a bedroom with Claire beside him sleeping. He was still him. He was still a bad ass. He was still in a world where he was the hero.

He was alone.

He wasn't dead...but he wanted to be.

He put his face in his hands and wept.

Post Note: There's one more chapter on this wonderful little tale. Let's see how our hero comes full circle, shall we?

Chapter 10

A/N: Because I can't bring myself to settle on just one ending for this tale - this is how I originally intended. The final chapter will be the other ending that I simply cannot get out of my head. Just another way the butterfly flaps those wings and changes the winds of destiny. A totally different end than this one. I'll try to get the final end up just before the remake hits - I won't do much writing until I play it after all.

GLIMPSE:

A Resident Evil Short Story

Starring:

Leon S. Kennedy and Claire Redfield

Guest Starring:

Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Sherry Birkin, Albert Wesker and the Ghost of Ada Wong

Part Ten:

Ending One:

It's a Wonderful Life

Santa Monica, CA - Present Day

He didn't leave his hotel room for eight days.

He didn't shave.

He didn't shower.

He didn't move.

He sat on his bed and ate bad take out when he wasn't busy starving himself. He watched Netflix. He binged watched Grey's Anatomy and felt sorry for himself. He ate carbs and fat and sugar and drank gallons of whiskey.

When the whiskey failed to numb the pain, he switched it up with vodka. He took a shower, left the beard, and hit the strip. A phone call to the incredible Jenna and three grand worth of blow later, he woke up on the floor of a suite in the Ritz Carlton naked and empty.

It didn't take long to realize Jenna and her perfect tits had robbed him while he was down and out. She took everything he had while he slept, but that didn't matter either the memory was hazy anyway. He remembered snorting coke off her ass and licking it off her teeth.

He remembered the second bottle of bourbon.

But there were four scattered around the hotel -so he hadn't stopped at two.

He wiped the blood from his face that was his septum revolting against 2 ounces of nose candy, and lit a cigarette in the empty hotel room.

Even booze and fucking and drugs couldn't give him peace.

He was a mess. How was this better? He'd started out almost numb. He was nearly dead anyway. And then a wrong turn and a ghost with a conscience poked him into a life that wasn't his and reminded him of all the things he'd never have.

He'd never have children. He'd never hear Ben laugh or listen to Gigi speak her first sentence. He'd never see the baby born. He'd never hold it or smell it or love it.

He'd never have Claire.

He'd never have a house in the suburbs or a goddamn dog that loved him.

Sherry wasn't a sweet teenager but was a biological weapon. Claire was so closed off emotionally that the last he'd heard she'd avoided any kind of dating since Neil. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd bothered to care about anything in his world.

He was one crack whore away from self destruction.

He lifted his hand to find his watch still on his wrist at least and the date told him he'd been back in his own world for three weeks now.

Three weeks and he was still trying to curl up in his own misery and die there. This passive aggressive courting of death was getting old. It was a sad world he lived in that he couldn't seem to die.

Apparently, he was unkillable.

He picked fights. He fought like a bitch. He got the shit beat out of him, but he didn't die. There was no one good enough to kill him. Sitting in alley, bleeding from a beating by two rednecks at a drinking hole who'd he'd whipped the asses of anyway, he was contemplating how bad it had to get before he just picked up a pistol and ended it.

And he wasn't alone anymore in the alley.

The Ghost of Ada Wong had come to join him.

She crouched in front of him, tilting her head like a dog. "...you look like shit, Mr. Kennedy."

He shrugged, leaning his head back against the filthy wall. His face felt like someone had used it for a punching bag. They had, it just hadn't been enough. He simply wasn't a guy who could lay there and let someone beat him to death.

After the fourth hit, he'd fought back. It was all he knew how to do. The two rednecks were currently face down in the alley ten feet away. All the rage in the world didn't make Leon anything less than the weapon he'd been trained to be. He didn't lose.

Until he lost everything.

"Get up, Leon. Wake up, and get on with your life."

"You took my life, you carnivorous cunt. Leave me alone to die."

Ghost of not, she could still hit him. She did, slapping his face. He winced, cursed, and spit blood, "...bitch." But even that didn't sound angry, just defeated.

Ada sighed, "Grow up, Leon. Seriously. Grow up. Whatever else is true, you still have a life here. You still have something to live for. I'm dead, you jackass. You're not. Keep this up, and you will be."

"What's the point, Ada? On one side we've got dealers selling bombs to terrorists to blow up babies. On the other people dropping bombs on weddings. What's the point? All my life, I've been fighting the same demons and I've gotten nowhere. Nowhere. It's worse than it was twenty years ago. Because I don't have the hope anymore. You offered me a glimpse of it, and snatched it away. So get lost. Leave me alone. I didn't ask you to save me. I don't need a fucking hero. I just want to be left alone."

Ada rose, shaking her head at him. "The hope is still there, Leon. You're just too busy feeling sorry for yourself to fight for it."

"Fuck off, Ada. I'm tired of fighting. Go find someone else to save."

He closed his eyes. She said nothing else. When he opened them, he was alone in the alley. Good, alone was the only way he wanted it. This is what happened when you let people in.

You ended up alone and dying.

He was done hurting. He just wanted to be numb again.

He wandered out and hailed a cab. It took him to the middle of nowhere and the cabby mused, "You sure, dude? Here?"

"Yep. Here. Thanks."

Getting out, Leon wandered into the empty field. In another life, he'd ended up here on that first day he'd spent in the world where he'd had it all. The destruction of Raccoon City was still less than three miles away. It was still quarantined, still uninhabitable. It was a necropolis that had been walled off and turned into a memorial.

But this field remained.

He stumbled into the dark until he found who he was looking for. Not Claire. Not Ada. Not God...the cow. The cow peered at him with her big brown eyes, lulling her moo as she chewed her cud.

Leon shrugged, staggering a little. "I thought you might know how I got here. Moooove over."

He flopped down on the ground beside her, patting her spotted flank. "You look like me actually, Bessie. I don't usually eat big meals either...I'm more of a grazer."

She eyed him, judging him silently for his bad humor.

He narrowed his gaze back at her. "Seriously, have I ever steered you wrong?"

Bessie gazed at him dully.

"...tough crowd. You get where I'm going with this right? Or am I totally butchering it?"

Bessie lifted her head from the grass and rolled her neck. She flapped her lips and spit grass and dirt all over his head. Leon laughed leaning his aching ear against her soft fur.

"Can't blame you. I'm off my game tonight. The steaks are too high." His cow puns were clearly making the cow love him. He had, after all, always been good with the ladies. Not following them, but charming them.

Bessie blew air at him started trying to eat his hair.

"Go ahead. It's all I have left that's worth a damn anyway. My excuses are a bunch of bull huh?"

She licked his ear and had him nodding. "Right. Who am I kidding? I'm pissed off. I had the opportunity of a lifetime and I didn't grab it by the horns you know?"

Bessie mooed and whacked him in the back with her tail. "Yeah. Exactly. You get it. But it's guys like Redfield that are the reason you know? That dude...even in that other life...he had it all. He has it all now. Sure, he never married, but he doesn't want that. He never really seemed to. He's complicated and a pain in the ass. I have some real beef with him, ya know?"

The cow jokes made Bessie moo again, munching the collar of his jacket now.

"Redfield doesn't sit here thinking about all the things he lost, I bet. It's nearly impossible to hurt his feelings...he has leather skin."

Bessie leaned up and gave him a bland expression, spitting more dirt and grass in his hair. "...ok. Too far? Maybe I deserved that."

Leon sighed, scooping his arms around his knees where they were tented against his chest. "What do I do, Bessie? I don't know if I can ever forget that I had it all, ya know? For a handful of days, I had it all. How do I let go of that?"

Bessie mooed..and took a huge shit that plopped on the ground behind them. Leon nodded, watching her face as she went back to grazing. "You're a fucking genius, Bess. No getting around that. Shit happens right? All you can do...is just let it go and deal with it."

Sometimes all the things you need to know in life, you could learn from a cow. Leon Kennedy's answers were in that field. And the one piece of advice he was sure to pass on to anyone he knew was this:

It might not be today. It might not be tomorrow. But one day, you'll find yourself in a conversation with the perfect opening for one of these bad puns. And, holy cow, when you do, let 'er rip.

Rest assured, it will be udderly satisfying.

Christmas Day was always a mad house.

Claire hurried around her office, filing all the paperwork that remained unfinished from her assistant who'd taken the week off. She did menial tasks, big ones, she sat meetings and staffed relief efforts. There was no rest for the weary when it came to world relief funds.

TerraSave never took a holiday.

She was just finishing up a company email when the knock on her door drew her focus.

Surprised, she smiled, "Leon! What the hell are you doing here?"

He set his guitar case inside her office on the floor. It was Leon - kinda. Minus his iconic hair that was cut down to a fashionable length and his leather jacket that was replaced by a hoodie in pale blue. She'd heard, through the grapevine, that he'd gone into rehab a few months before and hadn't been seen since.

"I got an early parole for good behavior apparently."

Claire rounded her desk and embraced him, gently. "You look good." And he did. Rested. Alert. He wasn't too skinny and didn't look like he'd woken up in a hotel bathroom with his kidneys stolen. He was missing that Kurt Cobain courting death look she'd come to expect from him in the last few years.

"Thanks." He shifted where he stood, "Working on Christmas, CR?"

"Bioterror never sleeps." She quipped as she gestured for him to have a seat. He declined, shaking his head.

"That sounds like the wrong Redfield talking."

Claire laughed, shrugging, "It's genetic, apparently. What brings you out here on the holiest of holidays?"

"I was hoping you might want to get a cup of coffee."

Surprised, Claire arched her brows. "Sure. Girl trouble?"

"In a way," He shifted again and took a deep breath, "I've been hung up on a girl for a long time. Just didn't have the guts to say anything."

"You?" Claire scoffed, perching her butt on the side of the desk, "Please."

He inhaled sharply again and just, threw it out there, "Why didn't you ask me to go with you that night?"

She blinked, twice. "When?"

"You know when," He tilted his head, "We both know what was between us. We both know what it could have been. But you ran. You could have asked me to go, Claire. Why didn't you?"

She lifted her head, rubbing her mouth, "Long time to wait to ask me that, Leon. A long time."

"I know. And I'm sorry. For alot of things. For not going with you. For not asking you to stay with me. For being a coward about how I felt about you all these years." He watched her face and smiled, gently, "I'm a coward at the core, kid. Don't you know?"

"No. Not that. Never that." She touched his face, an old gesture, "Chris came first. When it came to me or him? He came first. He always did. If I'd known...if I'd had any idea of what it would mean for you, for Sherry...I would never have left you. You have to know that."

He nodded, watching her eyes, "I spent so long blaming you for who I am."

Saddened, she dropped her hand, "Me too. Every time I looked at you, I saw that night. I saw what it did to the both of us. I saw what it formed us into. If Chris had just..." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter anymore, Leon. Why dwell on it?"

"Because I've been in love with you for twenty years, Claire. And we could have had a life together if we wouldn't have both been cowards that night."

She froze and her hand lowered to her chest and splayed there, "...don't say things like that, Leon. Please."

"Why? Because we spend most of our lives faking and lying and denying? Because someone decided we can't have each other and a life together and do what we do?" He shook his head, "I haven't had a drink in sixty two days, Claire. Sixty-two."

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, "...that's incredible."

"Right?" He laughed, "We can do whatever the hell we want. There are no fucking rules here, Claire. None. No one decides what we are, who we'll be...but us. We don't have to be miserable and alone."

Claire shook her head, "Leon...what are you saying here?"

He shrugged, laughing without mirth, "I'm saying we can rewrite the stars, Claire. To whatever we want. We've wasted alot of time blaming and bottoming out and denying...why? What fucking good has it done?"

He shifted toward her and she pressed a hand to his chest that trembled. "...don't, Leon. Don't."

"Why? You don't want me to?"

He was something with all his hair gone. The shorter style flattered his face. He looked healthy and determined and more like the boy she'd met in that dirty city than he'd been in a long time. Was he right?

Was it just a matter of rewriting the stars to tell their story the way they wanted?

Relenting, her hands cupped his face. "Leon...I've spent twenty years wishing I'd kissed you that night. But what are you asking me for here?"

He shrugged, studying her face. "A cup of coffee. The rest of it is up to you."

She drew him down and kissed him. It tasted like cinnamon and snow. He held her close and felt her trembled as she whispered, "...why do you smell like hay?"

He leaned back and pressed their foreheads together, "...right...how do you feel about farms?"

She tilted her head at him and he laughed, "I may have adopted a pet."

Surprised, Claire arched her brows. "Like a dog?"

"...not exactly." He looked a little sheepish as he queried, "...how do you feel about cows?"

Claire laughed, shaking her head, "Do I even want to know what the guitar is here for?"

He nodded, stepping away from her, and he picked up the case to remove his guitar. "Well...I thought I'd tell you a story about a boy and a girl...and the life they almost had."

She tilted her head at him and perched on the desk again. "...I can't think of anything I'd rather hear. Is the ending happy?"

He strummed the first few chords of the song he'd written to honor Ben and Gigi and Sherry and the life he'd left behind. "...well...I guess that's up to you."

And he gave Claire a glimpse into the world they could build...together.

Chapter 11

A/N: Flap those butterfly wings and the world changes. I may have a third potential ending in me. I have so many written down. I just can't decide how many I want to share. But this? This is what happens when you get a second chance.

GLIMPSE:

A Resident Evil Short Story

Starring:

Leon S. Kennedy and Claire Redfield

Guest Starring:

Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Rebecca Chambers, Sherry Birkin, Albert Wesker and the Ghost of Ada Wong

Part Eleven:

Ending Two:

Time Machine

Boston, MA - 1998

He didn't wake up in a gorge with a broken neck. He didn't do anything like that. Nope.

He woke up on a bus headed home from the Academy.

A handful of moments passed as he realized he wasn't dreaming. He wasn't crazy. He wasn't hallucinating. Well, he was, a little. Because he wasn't alone in the seat.

The Ghost of Ada Wong was next to him.

She tapped one booted foot on the floor and regarded him quietly, "I'd forgotten how god damn adorable you were." Her thumb stroked the little cleft in his chin and she sighed, "What a cutie you were."

He said nothing, intensely aware that they were not alone on the bus, and that if he were to start conversing with a ghost, it might lead to a trip to a padded cell.

So Ada added, "Apparently somebody, somewhere was listening to all your whining and ranting."

He cocked a brow and she shrugged, "Leon Kennedy, this is your do over. You have a chance, right now, to change your future. In eight days, you'll be the kid that wakes up drunk late for his first shift. You can choose, if you want, to never go to Raccoon City. Change your life. Change your fate. Become a cop in Boston and get on with your life."

His throat seized, twice, before he closed his eyes. Her hand rubbed at his inner thigh and she cooed, "Listen - what good would it do to go back there anyway? You meet me. We dance. We flirt. You lose. And we know where it goes. You end up the lapdog for the government for two decades until you die, alone, in a canyon. Really? Avoid it. Claire will be fine if you don't. You barely saw her that night. She'll survive just fine without you."

His mind was racing. If he didn't go, what then? Would the world alter forever?

Would Ashley Graham end up completing Saddler's mission without him?

Would the world fall into the hands of the bad guys?

Would Claire die in Raccoon with Sherry?

Without him as a bargaining chip, would Sherry become the property of the government without strings?

Would Chris never find Claire on Rockfort Island?

Would Chris and Jill never find TALOS in Russia and end Umbrella?

Would Umbrella end at all?

Without him to expose what happened in Raccoon City in the hands of the government, would anyone ever know anything?

Jesus.

The questions were endless.

His first instinct was to call Claire and warn her away from that city. If he stopped her, could he save her? Or would saving her, kill Sherry?

Leon rolled his neck, tossing the thousands of thoughts around. How did he do this? How did he save the world without destroying it? Heavy. Hard. And reasons why Back to the Future had given them rules.

NEVER MESS WITH HISTORY UNLESS YOU WERE WILLING TO DEAL WITH THE CIRCUMSTANCES.

He couldn't stop Claire from going to Raccoon. He couldn't do it. Without Claire, Sherry would end up dead. No one would save her from Birkin. He couldn't stop Raccoon City. It was happening already. It was eight days before his first shift, the damage was done. If he started shouting about conspiracies and madness, people would label him a nutcase like Chris Redfield and he'd be ignored anyway.

But he could do one thing. He could change one thing in this moment. He picked up the phone at the bunk house while his mates all laughed and drank and celebrated graduation and he called the number he had for the RPD. He was transferred to Jill Valentine easily enough.

She answered and he spoke, softly, "Don't hang up. Don't shrug me off. What I'm about to tell you, might change your life."

And he told her. He told her about the Nemesis. He told her about the city. He told her about Chris and Rockfort Island and the truth about Wesker still being alive. He told her about Spencer. He told her about Neo Umbrella. He told her about Hunk and his team and the sample. He unloaded twenty years of failure to stop Umbrella like the voice of god lighting the way to victory. He told her all of it and she listened. She believed. She'd survived the mansion, she believed.

He ended the call with a single phrase, "Do yourself a favor, and get out of Raccoon City. Now. Today. Don't stay there, Jill. Do you hear me? You're the target. Run."

Quietly, Jill queried, "Who are you!?"

And Leon replied, "Just a guy with nothing to lose. Stop Wesker. Do you hear me? Russia. Paris. Sleeper cells in Rome and Africa. Excella Gionne and Tricell. It's alot of info, I know that. I'll do what I can when I get there."

Jill shook her head, turning her chair away. She had pages of information written down from their phone call. "How do you know all this?"

"It's the story of my life, sweetheart. And it's about to change."

He hung up. He took a deep breath.

And he wrote down Raccoon City as his assignment destination on the board.

Some things, it seemed, just had to go the way fate wanted.
................

He wasn't drunk on his first day. He received a phone call four days before that said don't come. He went anyway.

He found Claire at the gas station. He brought her into the city. He told her, in the cruiser, that her brother was alive and well and on holiday in Europe.

The fire separated them. He had the key to the gate this time to let her in. He lost her when Mr. X showed his ugly face to chase them. But it had to go that way. She had to get to Sherry.

And the worst night of his life was his again to relive.

But he wasn't afraid. Not this time. Not anymore. He was calm. He was almost cold. He ran that building and the labs and the streets like he'd spent his whole life there. He hadn't. But the nightmares all his life had been enough.

He was a different man in a city gone to hell.

While Ada wasted time trying to play him, he worked out the time line in his head. While he was following Ada in the sewers, Claire was tracking Sherry in the RPD. He had a handful of moments to decide if he'd take the bullet for Ada, and beat Annette to the punch instead.

He shot first.

Like the age old question of Greedo in the bar with Han Solo - the what if of the world changed right there, on a dime. Annette panicked and fled. Ada, surprised, glanced at him, "How'd you know she'd be there?"

"Just lucky I guess." He gestured with his head, "Go after her now."

She started running and Leon warned her, "Don't be stupid, Ada. Whatever they're paying you, it's not worth your life."

She paused, surprised, "Who?"

"You know who. I'll see you soon."

She ran for it and he turned, booking it back across the tunnel. As Ada chased Annette, Leon clamored up the emergency ladder toward the garage. He could hear the shouting as he moved.

Sherry was screaming, "PLEASE! Oh PLEASE! I'll go, ok!? Don't hurt her!"

"Put the cuffs on her now, Sherry! I mean it!"

Irons. Right on schedule. Claire had never gone into details, but Leon knew that Irons had beat the shit outta of her to steal Sherry in the garage. She'd been bruised and her mouth busted up when they'd found each other again on the train.

He could have let it go down the way history had once let it. But why?

He wasn't the boy in the uniform anymore.

Leon pushed open the hatch to the emergency ladder and emerged behind the cruiser with its flashing lights as Claire spat, "You son of a bitch! My brother is S.T.A.R.S. and if you-"

She grunted as Irons kicked her in the side and spilled her to the ground. Sherry mewled desperately and Irons cursed, "BITCH! I said shut the fuck up. Open the gate, Sherry. NOW!"

The sound of the gate whirling mechanically joined him as Leon stepped around the cruiser. Irons had the gun stuck to Claire's face and was spitting as he talked, "You even fart in our direction, I will blow your tits off. You hear me?"

And Claire hissed, "I hear you...pig."

He flipped the gun around to whip her across the face and Leon whistled. The sound surprised everyone in the garage. Irons turned toward him. Claire glanced as well. And Sherry shouted, "Don't shoot!"

But he wasn't. Not at her. He commanded, "Drop the gun."

And Irons laughed, "You can't shoot me. You're a cop."

"...not anymore." Irons swung the gun. Leon pulled the trigger. Claire gasped as the blood splattered her face and Irons went down on his back a fresh hole in his head.

The silence dragged out until Sherry unlocked the cuffs on Claire and the redhead rose, watching Leon with wide eyes, "You just killed the police chief."

"...I know."

Sherry murmured, "He was a bad man, Claire. He was bad. It's ok."

Leon shook his head and gestured with his gun. "Take the girl and run. What's chasing you? It won't stop until it has her. I will finish it. I will stop it. But if you don't go now, it'll get her. It'll infect her, and they won't ever stop until they have her."

Surprised, Claire shook her head, "Who? What are you talking about? I won't leave you. Are you kidding me? Come with us."

Leon sighed and returned, "I can't. Not yet. But I will meet you, outside of town, near the abandon liquor store on 48. If you go now, you can make it before morning. Head left from this garage, slip through the alley by Kendo's, you'll have to cross over where the road is out but I left planks for you to use. When you get over the divide, go into the blue house three down on Webster."

He handed her the keys from his pocket, "This will get you in the door. And there's a truck waiting there in the garage. I left it a week ago. It's fully stocked. It's safe. Webster will take you right out of town past the road block they never finished on 48. Get out of town, Claire. Now. If you don't, she won't ever be the same."

Sherry and Claire were both staring at him. Sherry whispered, "But my Mom..."

And Leon shook his head, "I'll do what I can. But I can't promise anything. You have to trust me, I know that's asking alot. But you have to trust me. It's the only way this works."

Claire said, softly, "How do you know all this?"

Leon shook his head, "No time for that now. I need your necklace, Sherry. Can I have it?"

The girl glanced at Claire. Claire hesitated and Leon asked, "Do you trust me?"

Without hesitation, she answered, "Of course I do."

Sherry handed over the necklace. Leon said, softly, "Thank you. You'll be safe now, I swear to god."

Claire gripped his arm and implored, "Let me stay. Let me help."

"I won't risk you. It's better like this. I can handle it. You have to believe me."

"...I believe you."

"Then go now. Protect that little girl. That's all that matters." He swiped the card key when they were passed the gate. It closed, sealing Sherry and Claire beyond the metal. Claire scanned his face and murmured, "I don't want to leave you."

Jesus. His heart.

He stuck his hand through. Their palms joined. And he answered, "You're not. You're saving me. Go. Wait for me."

He turned and ran toward the kennels. He set Bertolucci free to avoid his death and cut him loose. Free of his cell, it was up to the reporter if he lived or died. Bertolucci promised to shed light on everything. He swore he'd see the end of Umbrella.

Bertolucci was gone when Ada arrived, spared his death by the monster who stalked them, and the spy who hunted him.

Alive, he might prove a powerful ally they'd lost too soon.

He played Ada's game until the sample was secured.

On the bridge, facing each other, the boy who'd once kissed a spy and mourned her death stood between her and victory. The lab began to collapse as the countdown threatened extinction. They paced each other with guns up and Ada instructed, "Don't be stupid, Leon. Pass me the sample."

Leon shook his head, laughing mirthlessly, "Make a choice, Ada. Here and now. Make a choice to do the right thing. This sample? It's the beginning of the end for you. You're on the wrong side here. It's not too late. Come with me. Forget the sample and let's bring this to the people who can stop it. Please. You can help me. It's no-"

She fired her gun and surprised him.

But not at him at Annette near the door. The doctor went down, bleeding. Ada lowered her weapon and shook her head at him, "Damnit, Leon. Why do you have to make this so hard?"

A good question.

He lowered his weapon, shaking his head, "Times up, Ada. What's it gonna be?"

"Don't do it, Leon." But he did it. He dropped the sample into the boiling fire below them. Ada watched it tumble, mournfully. He had to hope against hope that Jill had found a way to stop Hunk from getting the other sample.

This was the first step. If they could stop G, if they could stop Ashford on Rockfort, if they could stop Wesker in Russia...they could change the world. He just had to relive the horror all over again. It had to matter. It all had to matter. It had to. It was the only hope he had.

She sighed, dramatically, and holstered her gun. "You know I can't kill you. I'm not a fucking monster. Let's go."

Together, they ran for the lift to the train. He wasn't stupid. He knew she wasn't trustworthy. But he couldn't, he just couldn't, leave her to die. They tag teamed Birkin until the countdown had them desperately boarding the train.

As it raced into the sunrise, Ada jerked on his vest and tugged him over. He let her kiss him, smooth and soft. She shook her head, laughing softly, "You're something else. You sure you're a rookie?"

He shook his head, smirking, "Not for a long time, sweetheart. Not like I ever really was."

She tilted her head at him. "I can't go with you. You have to know that."

"I do. Do the right thing here, Ada. Stop Albert Wesker. Or none of this matters."

She tilted her head at him again. The train rolled to a stop at the small station. He thumb stroked the cleft in his chin and she sighed, "You're fucking adorable. That must be the only damn reason I've clearly lost my mind. The good news for you? Somebody betrayed me and stuck me in that mess back there. I don't like being betrayed. For that? I'm going to see how it feels to play for the other team for awhile. I'll help you. I'll be in touch."

She tucked a napkin in his hand and leaped over the railing of the train. He heard the sound of her hookshot firing and didn't even watch her run. There was no reason for it.

She'd find him when it was time.

He was sure of that.

On foot, he made his way to the liquor store. To his surprise, Claire was there with Sherry and Bertolucci. How the reporter had found them was a mystery. But it was also irrelevant, he had a handful of minutes to make his point.

So he said, "In about thirty minutes, the government is going to come over that hill. They're going to want answers. They're going to want samples. They'll get nothing. Because we have nothing to give them. But they won't leave empty handed."

Claire tilted her head, "Why?"

"Because they'll have me."

Surprised, she shouted, "Are you kidding?! Why?!"

"If I give myself over, they'll have no reason to look beyond me. I'm the last survivor. I'm the only one. You, Sherry, and Bertolucci make your escape. Claire - your brother isn't in Europe. He's in Wyoming at the cabin your parents owned. He's waiting there for you and Sherry. Go. Find him. Run. Hide. And trust me when I tell you, I will find you when I can."

Claire looked angry now, "I don't hide! Why would I!?"

"Because if you don't, they'll take that kid with you and imprison her. They'll make her a guinea pig. They'll manipulate you into protecting her and sacrificing yourself to help her."

"So you'd rather they do that to you?"

How far had him come? Where once he'd resented the girl who'd left him behind, now he was pushing her to run. Because he knew, he was ready, and he would find her again. This time, the story ended on his terms.

Sherry whispered, "My Mom?"

Leon shook his head, "I'm sorry. I tried. But she-"

Sherry nodded and turned away, whispering, "She had to stop my Dad."

Claire rubbed her mouth and glanced at Leon's face. "I won't leave you."

He sighed and opened the truck door, waiting for her to get in. "You will. This little girl needs you. Forget the fighting. Leave that to me. Take your life and live it, Claire. Live it with Sherry. Get her a dog. Get her a parrot. Get her an iPod when they come out, because they rule."

"What?"

"Nothing. Just...if things go like I want..." He paused, he glanced at Bertolucci, "If Ben gets this story out...it'll change everything. I need you to protect Sherry and Bertolucci and make sure that happens. I asked you to trust me. Now I have to ask you to promise me. Promise me you won't try to find me. Promise me you won't go to Paris. Promise me that you'll take this girl and get this reporter to safety and never look back. Promise me."

Claire hesitated, shaking her head, "I don't want to leave you."

Her loyalty. It crushed his soul. He gripped the back of her neck and dragged her over. She made a small sound and fisted his vest. He kissed her until he was fairly sure she'd never forget him.

Her mouth was soft and unbruised. Irons had never shown Sherry his orphanage of horror. He'd stopped all he could. From this point on, Claire was on her own.

He avowed, quietly, "I will find you again. When the time is right, I will find you. I swear to god."

The sirens lit the air and he urged, "Go. Now Claire. Go."

She leaped in the truck and gunned the engine. "...Leon...I-"

"Later. Go. NOW!" He slapped the hood of the truck and ran toward the far side of the hill. He didn't look back. He heard the tires peel off. He heard the truck roar away.

He had hope for the first time in twenty years that Claire was free of the fight. Claire and Sherry were free. He waited until they came over the hill to take him into custody.

He agreed when they offered him the shackles that had once nearly killed him.

He went.

And he never looked back.

In his head, he could hear Ada's voice whispering, "...looks like you're still on duty, Agent Kennedy."

Apparently, time machine or not, that was the story of his life.

Harvardville, 2005

The T-Virus vaccine was an enormous success. Started early, it was widely distributed like essentials were to children at birth. By the time Claire had once been fighting the losing battle against massive outbreaks, she was instead serving at the head of TerraSave to help vaccinate foreign domains and offer blanket inoculation to the poor and underserved.

Bertolucci blew the whistle on Umbrella with the safety of the right people within the FBI protecting him. He never asked how Leon knew who he could run to, he just...trusted him.

Umbrella was dismantled and destroyed before TALOS could be built or the plant in Russia utilized. Thwarted before he could amass power, Wesker wasn't easy to track down. Since his early movements were a mystery, finding him was proving tiresome. But with Rockfort destroyed and Alexia never set free, there wasn't much for him to gain by running down familiar paths.

A sanctioned hit on Hidalgo had taken out the drug lord before he could experiment on girls in South America.

The Los Illuminados were halted before they'd even hit the height of power. The plagas were exposed to heavy doses of UV light and eradicated within their caverns. People in intelligence weren't sure if Leon Kennedy was a god or a devil. They only knew his insincts were never wrong. He just knew where to find the bad guys.

Spared an untimely death at the hands of Albert Wesker, Jill Valentine was serving as the head of the BSAA. Chris had seized control of the FBC with Lansdale taken into custody long before Terragrigia could fall, and put a stop to Il Veltro before the city could become a necropolis. No one asked how Leon knew what he knew. No one.

Not once.

From the moment it all boiled out like he'd said, Jill Valentine trusted everything he uttered.

With anti-BOW laws on the books and President Graham leading the charge against bio-terror in a positive way, Ashley was safe and free to bong beers and grow up away from the eyes of the monsters that had once sought to rule through her.

And so it was just a man who showed up in a sunny little city to find a redhead waiting with a beautiful teenage daughter. Claire had adopted Sherry right after Raccoon City. She'd done just what she'd promised.

She'd raised her and protected her and loved her.

Sherry was off to college in a few months to get her degree in virology. She was planning to join Rebecca Chambers on the front lines of vaccine production.

As he stepped onto the tarmac, Sherry waved her arms and laughed, running toward him to hug. Beautiful, tall, she looked like the happy version of the girl he'd known once that nearly wrecked his car.

Claire joined them on the runway, tilting her head at him.

"I waited."

His heart. It leaped twice before he answered, "I found you. I told you I would."

"You did." She licked her lips, "I missed you."

Shit. He laughed, hoarsely, and cleared his throat, "Me too, kid. Like you wouldn't believe. You're alright?"

"I'm great. We're great. What took you so long?"

He shook his head and muttered, "What's a few years versus a lifetime?"

Claire arched her brows, "What?"

"Nothing. Doesn't matter. Forgive me and make it all worth it."

She laughed and rolled her eyes, "Forgive you for what? You saved my life. There's nothing to forgive."

His heart thumped as he queried, "You involved with anyone?"

Curious, her eyes twinkled, "Not that I'm aware of. You said wait...I waited."

Christ almighty he loved her. He laughed, skimming his hands in his hair. "I don't deserve you."

She winked at him, "You wanna tell me now how you know what you know?"

He smirked. "Does it matter?"

"Depends on what you came here for. Start talking."

He sighed and set his bag down on the tarmac. "Right here? Right now? You want the whole story?"

She pursed her lips. "That a guitar?"

He shrugged, "Maybe. Why? You want me to sing you the whole story instead?"

Amused, Claire gripped his tie and tugged him forward. "That was a helluva first date we had, Mr. Kennedy. It better be a reallllly good song."

His hands slid down her back and cupped her butt. She looped his tie around her hand.

And he said, "I can think of a better song. I promise you."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah...you ever heard Animal by Nine Inch Nails?" A song whose first line was I wanna fuck you like an animal...a filthy homage to all the glorious, wonderful, incredible, never ending pleasures that came from being inside of a woman.

He didn't just want to sing it to her. He wanted to live it with her.

And she laughed. She just laughed. She tugged his lips to hers and cooed, "Maybe you better show me instead."

Above her, sitting on the plane he'd left behind, the ghost of Ada Wong intoned, "There ya go, handsome. Quit yer bitchin...and live your fucking life."

He laughed. He tugged Claire in to kiss her breathless. Sherry laughed and asked if she could finally adopt a puppy. Fuck a puppy, he thought madly, he was ready to fill Claire up with children.

As they let go, both breathless, he queried, "I know we've actually only spent about an hour together...but is it too soon to ask you to have my baby?"

And the sound of Claire's laughter spilled around them in the warm sunlight.

Notes:

Post Note: He's not dead. It's like...It's a Wonderful Life...he's getting his chance to see life without Umbrella. O_o