You can hear it in the silence (you are in love)

by Graceland_Too13

Summary:

December 31st, 2008

Before she could really stop herself her arms were around Jack, pulling him into a kiss more passionate that she’d have allowed herself had she been sober. The noise of the rooftop faded into the background as his hands settled on her waist.

But as the fireworks exploded in the sky above, the kiss felt more like an escape than a celebration. She pulled back slightly, scanning his face and looking almost disappointed.

“Happy New Year,” Jack whispered, giving her that charming smile that almost made her forget why she’d ever consider leaving.

Claire forced a smile in return, her hands dropping to his chest. “Happy New Year.”

She tried to soak it in, to ground herself in the moment, but her gaze betrayed her. It drifted again— inevitably, stupidly— to Leon.

--

Claire had given up the idea of motherhood long ago, least of all with a man who on his best day just managed to numb the pain. Life, however, had an unexpected way of granting wishes. And in the quiet uncertainty of this new chapter, it had brought back the one person she could never quite let go of.

Notes:

A/N: Hiiii! I had this idea while working on a much bigger cleon fanfic. This one is multi-chapter, but shouldn't be longer than 25 parts.

I love, love, love writing Claire and I think there are nowhere near enough pics told from her perspective, so if this one feels too Claire-centered, that's because it is :)

As cliché as it sounds... English is not my first language. So, if you see any mistakes just pretend you didn't.

And that's all I have to say! (it's not, but I'll keep to short). I hope you enjoy reading even half as much as I've loved writing it. Cleon has a special place in my heart, and I hope you'll be able to tell.

My plan is to update weekly. Enjoy, and happy New year's eve < 333

Chapter 1: So how should I begin this? I guess it started when you were with him

Summary:

A New Year’s party at Jill’s house. Claire runs into a familiar face.

Notes:

A/N: Hiiii! I had this idea while working on a much bigger cleon fanfic. This one is multi-chapter, but shouldn't be longer than 25 parts.

I love, love, love writing Claire and I think there are nowhere near enough pics told from her perspective, so if this one feels too Claire-centered, that's because it is :)

As cliché as it sounds... English is not my first language. So, if you see any mistakes just pretend you didn't.

And that's all I have to say! (it's not, but I'll keep to short). I hope you enjoy reading even half as much as I've loved writing it. Cleon has a special place in my heart, and I hope you'll be able to tell.

My plan is to update weekly. Enjoy, and happy New year's eve <33

December 31st, 2008 - Washington D.C.

 

The steady rhythm of windshield wipers cut through the silence in the car, battling against the falling snow. Claire’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as she drove through the icy roads. The holiday traffic was maddeningly slow, and she could feel the weight of her thoughts pressing in again.

 

With a sigh, she turned on the radio, flipping through the stations until a familiar song filled the space. It wasn’t her favorite, but it was better than the quiet.

 

“Whose house are we going to again?” Jack’s voice broke through, pulling her out of her own head. 

 

 She glanced at him briefly, her brow arching. “Jill’s,” she replied, certain this wasn’t the first— or second— time she’d told him.

 

“Right, Jill,” he mulled over. “You looking forward to it?”

 

Claire hummed, managing a soft smile as she took their exit. “I’m looking forward to you meeting everybody,” she admitted, her voice softer now.

 

Jack’s hand moved from his lap to rest on her thigh, his thumb brushing over the fabric of her dress. “Yeah? I’m excited too.”

 

Her lips quirked into a small, genuine smile, but she still felt uneasy. “It’s not that big of a meeting,” she said, almost to herself. “Some people you know, some you don’t.”

 

He waved a hand in dismissal. “I can handle a harmless family reunion.”

 

Claire sighed, shaking her head as she took their exit. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

 

“Complicated?” 

 

She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again. She couldn’t really explain it. It wasn’t a family reunion— those consisted only of her and Chris. Whatever this was was much more difficult to explain without getting into the shared history that joined them.

 

Instead, she deflected with a wry smile. “You’ll see soon enough.”

 

Jack didn’t push further. He gave her thigh a squeeze before letting his hand return to his lap. The silence enveloped them again, but it felt less suffocating this time.

 

---

 

Claire knocked on the front door, glancing impatiently at her wristwatch as muffled voices carried through the walls. The hum of conversation was familiar, comforting even.

 

“Coming!” someone called from inside.

 

A few seconds later, Jill appeared, a welcoming smile on her face as she opened the door. “Claire,” she greeted warmly, “come on in, you're the last to join us.”

 

The redhead scoffed, “Yeah, sorry about that. Traffic.”

 

“No worries,” Jill replied, stepping aside to let them in. “We’ve still got hours till midnight.”

 

Jack followed close behind, a bag of drinks in hand. He offered Jill a polite smile. “Evening, Jill.”

 

“Oh, Jack,” Jill said, her brows lifting slightly. “Didn’t know you’d be joining us.” Her tone was friendly but caught off guard.

 

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Chris entered the kitchen, lighting up when he saw his sister. “Claire!” he exclaimed, hugging her before she could protest. “It’s been ages.”

 

She just chuckled, rolling her eyes fondly and patting his back. “Calm down, I saw you last week.”

 

Chris let go, ruffling her hair. “Yeah, yeah.” His gaze shifted to Jack, his expression mirroring Jill’s earlier surprise. “Hey, man. Didn’t know you’d be here.

 

“Chris,” Jack said with a friendly smile. “Good to see you.”

 

Claire sighed, taking the bag from Jack’s hand and setting it on the counter. “Brought champagne,” she announced, handing it to Jill.

 

“That’s why you’re my favorite Redfield,” the other woman replied, shooting Chris a playful smirk as she took the bottle. 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Chris chuckled. “Just keep it away from Moira, she thinks turning eighteen makes her immune to hangovers.”

 

Claire shook her head fondly, helping herself to a glass of water. “Can’t really blame her… God knows I was worse at her age.” 

 

“Were you now?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement. 

 

Jill and Chris exchanged a knowing look, but to Claire’s relief they held back their undoubtedly embarrassing stories.

 

“A little,” she shrugged, feigning innocence, earning a chuckle from Chris.

 

“Come on,” Jill said, nodding to the living room. “Everyone’s excited to see you.”

 

Chris gave Claire’s arm a quick squeeze before following Jill into the living room. Jack lingered behind, resting a hand on Claire’s waist as he gestured for her to lead the way. She shot him a soft smile before stepping forward— only to be swarmed by Barry’s oldest daughter.

 

“Claire!” Moira exclaimed.

 

“Hey, Moira,” she greeted warmly, wrapping her arms around the teenager. “How are you?”

 

“Bored,” Moira complained. “It’s just another day, I don’t get the fuss.”

 

Barry cleared his throat, approaching them with Rebecca in tow as he shook his head at his daughter's statement. “Lighten up a little, won't you?”

 

“Barry, Rebecca” she said fondly, smiling as she embraced them. “It’s been a while.” 

 

“Claire!” Rebecca beamed. “We were starting to think you’d bailed.”

 

“Well, you know D.C traffic…” she replied, hugging the brunette. She then turned to Barry, who pulled her into a warm hug.

 

“Good to see you, kid,” Barry welcomed her with open arms, his gaze landing on Jack. “And who’s this?”

 

“Jack, sir,” he answered, offering his hand.

 

Barry shook his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you, Jack. Claire’s mentioned you.”

 

“Hopefully the good stuff,” Jack replied with a smile, earning a chuckle from both Barry and Rebecca.

 

Claire drifted through the apartment, her gaze scanning familiar and new faces. Jack stayed close, a steady hand on the small of her back as he endured introductions to people he didn’t know. Jill reappeared, offering them glasses of wine, which Claire accepted gratefully.

 

“Hey, is Sherry here already?” She asked, surprised that the girl— woman, now— hadn’t stormed in to greet her.

 

“She’s out grabbing more ice,” Jill replied, watching Claire closely. “She and Leon should be back any minute.”

 

Claire’s eyebrow shot up, her surprise watered down by the oblivious man beside her. “Oh. Didn’t know he’d be here,” she said, in the most casual tone she could muster. 

 

“You know Sherry,” Jill said with a small smile. “She asked him to be here and so he is.”

 

Of course, she should’ve guessed that would be the case. The thought of being angry swirled around her mind, but she knew it was irrational. Just because her relationship with him had taken a wrong turn didn’t mean he’d be removed from her life— not with the kind of history they shared, and certainly not when there was still Sherry Birkin. Still, Claire’s fingers tightened slightly around the glass as she took a measured sip.

 

“Of course.”

 

Jill smirked knowingly but didn’t press, her attention drawn by Chris calling her over from the other side of the room. “I’ll catch you in a bit,” she said, giving Claire’s arm a quick squeeze, leaving Claire and Jack by the kitchen.

 

“Well, they all seem nice,” Jack said, his voice low as he leaned closer, his hand moving across her back.

 

She glanced at him, managing a soft smile. “They are.”

 

Before she could elaborate, the door swung open, carrying in the crisp winter air and the unmistakable sound of Sherry’s laughter. The warmth of the room seemed to dim, replaced by the bittersweet weight of nostalgia tied to that laugh.

 

Claire turned instinctively, her heart stuttering as she saw them. Sherry walked in first, cheeks flushed from the cold, her arms full with bags. Leon followed, carrying the bags of ice in one hand, his other holding the door open for her.

 

“Finally!” Chris’s voice came through. “What took you two so long?”

 

Claire froze for a beat, unable to look into his eyes but unable to look away. He hadn’t changed— still tired but steady, his presence captivating without trying. His gaze swept the room before settling on Claire. For a fleeting moment, his expression softened, a brief acknowledgement that tightened the knot in her chest. He gave her a subtle nod, sparing her from the necessity of words. She almost wanted to thank him for it.

 

The moment dissolved as Sherry set her bags down on the counter and rushed over, throwing her arms around Claire in an enthusiastic hug. 

 

“Hey, Sher,” Claire whispered, holding the girl just as tightly. Over Sherry’s shoulder she caught sight of Chris handing Leon a beer, the two men drifting further into the apartment. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How’ve you been?”

 

“Busy,” Sherry said, pulling back with a beaming smile. “But I’m so glad to see you.”

 

Claire chuckled, squeezing her shoulders affectionately. “You look beautiful, I’m happy you’re here.”

 

“You look beautiful too,” the blonde replied with a grin, her gaze flicking over Claire’s shoulder to Jack. “And you didn’t tell me you were bringing someone.”

 

Claire followed her gaze, her lips curving into a faint smile. “This is Jack.”

 

Sherry’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, though Claire didn't miss the hint of disappointment. “Nice to meet you, Jack. I’m Sherry.”

 

“Pleasure’s mine, Sherry.”

 

Rebecca entered the kitchen, smiling at Sherry. “Not to interrupt, but you guys should really grab some food before Chris and Barry eat everything.”

 

Claire laughed, giving Sherry's hand a squeeze. “Better get to it.”

 

Jack leaned down to press a light kiss to Claire’s cheek. “I’ll grab us something. Be right back.”

 

“Thanks,” she said softly, watching him disappear into the crowd. She turned back to Sherry, who was watching her with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

 

Sherry shrugged, a contemplative look on her face. “Nothing. He-… He seems nice enough.”

 

“He is,” Claire replied reassuringly. She knew Sherry worried— and was definitely biased too. “He’s good to me.”

 

“Okay.” Sherry sighed, pouring herself a glass of whiskey. “Well, you let me know if that ever changes.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.” Claire bit back her laugh, instead just nodding. “And since when do you drink whiskey?”

 

The blonde shrugged, a cheeky smile on her face. “I guess Leon rubbed off on me a little.” 

 

“Right,” Claire contemplated, her voice taking a bittersweet tone, pausing before making a hesitant question. “How's he been?”

 

Part of her wanted to not care– to shamelessly avoid him– but the most mature part of her had made peace long ago with the fact that she'd always care. Hell, she'd never wanted to cut him off entirely in the first place, she'd just stopped checking in– too blinded by anger. 

 

Sherry tilted her head, studying Claire for a moment. The teasing glint in her eyes softened, replaced by understanding. “He's… well, you know him,” she said carefully. “But he's good.”

 

Claire nodded, swallowing the knot in her throat with another sip of her wine. “That's good to hear.”

 

“Yeah…” Sherry wanted to ask more, of course she did. But she wasn't a nosy twelve year old anymore, and so she let it go. 

 

“Now come on, let's go get you something to eat.” She wrapped her arm around the girl's shoulders, leading her to the crowded living room. 

 

Claire saw Jack on the other side of the room, speaking hushedly into the phone, his earlier promise of food forgotten. She forced her attention back to the table with food in front of them, mindlessly helping herself to a small portion as Sherry's voice got clouded. The laughter and chatter in the apartment felt like background noise as she tried to steady herself. Her hands moved automatically while her mind wrestled with a sense of unease. 

 

“Claire?” Sherry's voice pulled her back, her tone taking a little concerned edge. “You okay?”

 

“Hmm?” She blinked. “Oh, yeah. I'm fine, just-... it's been a long day.”. 

 

It didn't sound very convincing, but Sherry decided then, that if she wasn't as okay as she said, a distraction might be more welcome than any type of intervention. 

 

“So…” Sherry began, “you've got any big plans for the new year? You know, besides working yourself to the bone as usual.”

 

Claire smiled faintly, thinking over the question for a second. “Not really, no. I guess I just hope there are less messes to clean this year.”

 

The girl hummed in understanding, raising her glass. “Well, cheers to that, then.”

 

“Yeah, cheers to that,” Claire echoed, lifting her glass too and downing the remaining wine in one swift motion. 

 

“Oh, whatcha ladies toasting for?” Jill asked, beer in hand. 

 

“An uneventful year, hopefully.” Claire said, her voice laced with equal parts hope and resignation as she poured herself a glass of tequila.

 

Jill raised an eyebrow, her curious gaze flicking between Claire and Sherry. “That’s a pretty low bar, Claire. But hey, I get what you mean.”

 

Claire smirked faintly, “I’m just hoping we can all get a break, y’know? No fatal outbreaks for a while… seems impossible.”

 

“A girl can dream.” Jill chuckled, clinking her beer bottle to Claire’s glass. “Here’s to boring, then.”

 

“I could do boring.” Sherry laughed softly, sipping her whiskey. 

 

The conversation drifted to lighter topics, but Claire’s focus unintentionally strayed towards Jack. He was still on the phone, shoulders slightly hunched as he carried a conversation too secret for the lively room. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him like this, speaking quietly, stepping away at odd moments. And it wouldn’t be the first time the weight of suspicion settled on her shoulders, but she shook it off, unwilling to let it ruin the night.

 

The three of them sat down around the table, eating their food while they watched a rerun of a show Claire remembered watching with her mother. Her hand tightened around her glass, the liquor warming her throat but doing little to dull the knot twisting in her stomach. Jack returned a few minutes later, sliding into a seat next to Claire. His hand brushed against her arm apologetically.

 

“Sorry about that,” he whispered. “It was work stuff— couldn’t avoid it.”

 

Claire turned her head just enough to meet his eyes, searching for something— an explanation, or maybe a sign of guilt. But his face was a perfect mask of calm, unreadable and frustratingly familiar.

 

Her suspicion had started weeks ago— small things at first: late nights, vague answers, last minute “work trips”. She had confronted him once, knowing already what the answer was. When he’d denied it, Claire had lost all trust she once believed they could have in each other. Still, she stayed. He offered her something she’d longed for ever since she’d lost it— a warm set of arms and the illusion that she wasn’t damaged beyond repair. 

 

“It’s fine,” she assured him, even managing a soft smile. He didn't notice the stiffness in her voice, or if he did, he didn't acknowledge it. That was his way– charming enough to smooth over the cracks but never deep enough to fix them. 

 

Jack leaned closer, brushing a kiss against her temple. “You’re the best, y’know that?”

 

She hummed, the gesture feeling hollow. “Sure.”

 

As Jack turned to join in the conversation at the table, Claire’s gaze fell to her plate, the food untouched. She felt the old ache of loneliness creep back in, sharper now because she wasn’t alone at all. 

 

How much Jack really knew her was still a mystery. He’d seen the parts of her she’d carefully displayed. But, every intention she’d had of letting that wall down shattered as the only man she’d come close to letting in for a second time still didn’t seem to think she was worth sticking around for. 

 

It wasn't love, Claire knew that much. It wasn’t about self-worth, either. Claire knew she was worth more than whatever Jack was. She didn’t want his approval, didn’t need his love either, but she craved the company— no matter how shitty. And so, she stayed because leaving felt exhausting. 

 

And yet, Claire couldn't help but glance back at Leon. He caught her gaze for a brief second before looking away, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. He looked relaxed, even as his posture carried the weight of someone who always had to be ready for something. It was second nature for him– always steady, always guarded. For a brief moment her thoughts drifted to all the times he hadn't been, all those stolen moments, that had carried on for longer than they should've, where he simply allowed himself to be. With her. 

 

“Claire,” Jill's voice broke through her haze, her tone light but observant, “you want some more of that?” She gestured to the bottle of tequila, waiting for Claire's nod before pouring. 

 

Claire accepted the drink with a quiet “Thanks, Jill,” her fingers curling tightly around the glass. 

 

As the night carried on, Claire settled against Jack's side, watching as he charmingly made himself a part of their group, social in a way she'd stopped being long ago. Drink after drink blurred the edges of the room, and despite her acquired tolerance, the alcohol was starting to take its toll. The countdown to the new year was still an hour away, but Claire already felt the weight of the night pressing down on her.

“Jill, do you have a lighter?” she asked, her slightly slurred words interrupting whatever conversation had been going on. 

 

Jill raised an amused brow at Claire's slightly tipsy tone but nodded. “Yeah, give me a sec.” She reached into a nearby drawer and tossed Claire a well-worn silver lighter. “Don't go setting anything on fire.”

 

Claire caught it with a faint smirk “I'll try not to.”

 

“Don't let Chris catch you,” Jill teased, though her eyes lingered a moment longer than usual, concern flickering in her eyes. 

 

“I'll be fine,” Claire replied, pushing herself up from the couch a little too quickly, the alcohol making her sway. Jack's hand instinctively went to her arm to steady her. 

 

“You ok?” he asked, his tone gentle but still grating on her nerves.

 

“Just need some air” she mumbled, slipping out of his grasp before he could follow. “Be right back.” 

 

Jack nodded, leaning back into his chair. She didn't wait for a further response, making her way towards the small balcony. 

 

The cold hit her immediately, sharp and disarming, but a relief in its own right. She closed the glass door behind her, fumbling in her pocket for a cigarette. Her fingers shook, not from the cold but from the storm swirling in her chest. She lit the cigarette with Jill's lighter, taking a deep drag as the nicotine worked to ease her nerves. 

 

She closed her eyes, her hand frustratingly rubbing some smeared makeup from her eyes. When she opened them she focused on the smoke curling into the air, drifting away into the city below. The soft hum of laughter and music from inside barely reached her ears, replaced by the sounds of the ever busy capital– now preparing for a new year. Still, the quiet did nothing to calm her racing mind, if anything it made the turmoil louder. 

 

But the peace didn't last long. The soft click of the balcony door startled her, body tensing reflexively. For a moment, she thought it was Jack, but when she glanced over her shoulder, she found Leon standing there instead.

 

He hesitated at the threshold, his expression unreadable, though there was something cautious in the way he lingered by the door. “Didn't-... didn't mean to interrupt,” he said, voice low and guarded, carrying a warmth she hadn't heard directed at her in far too long. 

 

Claire held his gaze for a beat, her surprise giving way to something more guarded. She shook her head subtly. “You're not interrupting. Just needed to get away for a minute.”

 

Leon stepped onto the balcony, closing the door behind him and moving carefully, as though he didn't want to set her off. He stopped a few feet away, leaning against the railing. The faint glow of her cigarette caught his eye, as did the subtle tremor in her hand. He said nothing about it, letting the silence stretch between them– not uncomfortable but not easy either, just heavy with the weight of things left unsaid. 

 

“It's been a while,” he finally said, his voice softer now. 

 

Claire let out a quiet hum, her gaze fixed on the city lights. “Yeah, it has.” She took another drag, exhaling shakily. “Didn't think I'd see you tonight.”

 

“Didn't think you'd want to,” Leon admitted.

 

Her lips twitched into a humorless laugh. “I didn't, not really. But- it's fine. I'm fine.”

 

He studied her for a moment, not stung at all by her sincerity. “You don't look like it.”

 

Claire glanced at him sharply, ready to deflect, but his stare was more disarming than it was infuriating. She sighed, shaking her head as she flicked ash over the edge of the balcony. “You always did have a habit of pointing out the obvious.”

 

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he didn't press further. Instead, both their attentions turned to the cityscape, the silence between them shifting into something almost familiar. The silence settled comfortably now, making Claire think about how natural it still felt to have him there– too natural, considering everything. 

 

“What brought you out here?” she asked, almost hesitantly.

 

Leon turned his head slightly, considering her question. “Could ask you the same thing.”

 

“I needed some air. That's all.” 

 

“Fair enough.” He paused, his gaze going momentarily to the party behind them. “Sherry mentioned you were here. Thought it'd be rude not to say hi.”

 

“Hi,” Claire whispered dryly, though her tone held a trace of amusement. She flicked the last of her cigarette into the ashtray on the railing and crossed her arms, leaning into the cold breeze. 

 

Leon huffed a quiet laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Hi.”

 

She traced the edge of the railing with her fingertips, unsure of what to say next. Dozens of questions and unspoken feelings turned in her mind, but they all felt too heavy to voice. 

 

“You look good,” he stated, his eyes roaming over her– careful still, but much more at ease. 

 

Claire raised an eyebrow, glancing at him. “You just said I didn't look fine two seconds ago.”

 

“I said you didn't look fine,” he corrected, a faint smirk on his face. “Never said you didn't look good.”

 

Claire scoffed, shaking her head. “Still got it in you, huh?”

 

“Depends. You falling for it?”

 

She laughed, low and genuine, despite her efforts not to. “I'm not.”

 

Leon's lips curled into a knowing smile, but his eyes still made Claire feel like he could see right through her. “So… Jack, was it?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it. 

 

“Yeah, Jack,” she confirmed, letting out a small breath. “That's the guy.”

 

“Is that… working for you?”

 

Claire looked away, back to the starry sky. She hadn't expected him to ask that, or maybe she had. She wasn't sure anymore. “Yeah, you could say that.”

 

He seemed to weigh his next words carefully. “But…?” The question wasn't casual; it was more like he was probing, trying to get a sense of how much she was willing to share. 

 

“It’s complicated,” she sighed, looking away.

 

Leon nodded slightly, his gaze burning into her side. “I figured.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“It means,” he began, “that I know when something’s eating at you, even if you don’t say it.”

 

The words hit closer than she wanted to admit, and it made her almost angry. “I’m fine.”

 

Leon didn’t argue, but his silence spoke volumes. He stepped closer, leaning his shoulder against the railing next to her. The closeness wasn’t invasive, just enough to remind her that he was still there.

 

“Jack doesn’t know, does he?” Leon asked after a moment, his voice low but steady.

 

Claire glanced at him sharply, her eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

 

He met her gaze unshakably, in a practiced way that settled her temper. “About what you’ve been through… Raccoon City.”

 

Claire wanted to deny it, to shut him down and tell him that Jack knew and loved her despite it, but she couldn’t lie— not to Leon. “He doesn't need to know.”

 

“Doesn’t he?” Leon pressed gently.

 

“Not everyone needs to carry my baggage, Leon,” she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. “I just… I just need something to feel normal for a while.”

 

“And does he? Make you feel normal?” He asked. “Or does he just make you feel numb?”

 

She laughed again, bitter this time. “You don’t get to say that. Not after—” She stopped herself, biting down on her words before they could come out. 

 

It was the alcohol maybe, maybe it was his presence alone that made her feel so vulnerable. Still, her words came out before she could catch them. “I’m trying, Leon,” she whispered. “I’m really trying.”

 

“I know you are. You’ve never stopped trying, Claire. That's just who you are.”

 

There was something in his tone— an understanding, a faith in her that felt both comforting and unbearable. She hated how much she missed it, how much she missed him. It wasn’t fair. None of it was.

 

She turned to face him then, her eyes searching his face for answers. The time between them felt simultaneously eternal and nonexistent. “Why are you out here, Leon? Really?”

 

“Because I know you, Claire. I know you’re not fine. And I can’t just sit in there and pretend I don’t care. Not about you.”

 

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and she had to look away, her breath hitching. Claire stared at him, her walls crumbling faster than she could rebuild them. She wanted to ask him so much, wanted to pour everything out, but she couldn't. She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss. The cold bit at her skin, but all she could feel was the heat of his presence.

 

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The distant sound of fireworks broke the tension, and Claire realized with a start that midnight was approaching. 

 

“Claire…” Leon’s voice was barely above a whisper now, but it carried more weight than anything else that night.

 

She shook her head, swallowing back the lump in her throat. “Don’t, Leon. Just… don’t.” Her voice cracked, betraying the exhaustion that pressed down on her – the alcohol, the night, and the memories she'd tried to bury.

 

“You don’t get to do this.” She turned to him sharply, her voice laced with an anger she couldn’t contain. “You don’t get to come back and act like you still know me, like you know anything about my life or how I feel.”

 

“I used to,” he replied softly, his gaze steady. “That doesn’t just disappear.”

 

“Don’t,” she cut him off again, her voice rising, more frustration bleeding through now. “Don’t do this, Leon. Just… don’t.” 

 

For a moment she thought he might argue, might push further, but he didn't. He stayed where he was, his presence unshakeable. The distant sound of fireworks echoed through the city, marking the last moments before midnight. The cold air bit at her skin, but all she could feel was the heat of her anger. 

 

“Just let it go,” she slurred, her voice taking a much more dangerous anger– not explosive, but quiet this time. “Please.”

 

Leon opened his mouth, but before he could respond, the sound of the glass door sliding open cut through the tension.

 

“Claire! And… oh, Leon! What’re you doing out here?” Chris’s voice boomed as he stepped onto the balcony, his tone jovial and loud enough to shatter the charged silence. “C’mon, midnight’s in a few minutes—everyone’s moving to the rooftop to watch the fireworks!”

 

Claire jumped at the interruption, turning away from Leon with a sharp exhale. The reprieve felt like a lifeline. She didn’t spare him another glance as she walked past Chris, her movements brisk, her emotions carefully stuffed back down.

 

As she stepped through the warm threshold, Jill appeared almost immediately, her arm slinging easily around Claire’s shoulders. “There you are!” Jill said brightly, pulling her close with a grin. “Thought you’d disappeared for good.”

 

Claire forced a small smile, the lingering tension from the balcony still gnawing at her nerves. “Just needed some air.”

 

Jill’s eyes flickered over her, sharp and assessing despite the casual smile on her face. “Yeah? You good?”

 

“Yeah,” Claire replied quickly, brushing it off. “I’m fine.”

 

“Let’s go, then,” Jill said, steering her toward the stairs. “We’re not missing the countdown!”

 

Jack appeared at the base of the staircase, his face lighting up the moment he spotted Claire. “There you are,” he said, his tone warm and easy, as though nothing in the world could touch them. “Was starting to wonder if you’d bailed on me.”

 

Claire shook her head, the corners of her mouth lifting into a small, tired smile. “Wouldn’t do that,” she murmured, stepping toward him. His arm slid around her waist, and for a moment, she let herself lean into him.

 

Leon followed at a distance, his expression unreadable as he watched the two of them. He hung back near the doorway, his eyes lingering on Claire longer than they should have.

 

Jack’s hand brushed against hers, grounding her in a way that felt both comforting and hollow. “Come on, let’s get up there,” he said, guiding her toward the stairs with an easy confidence.

 

As they ascended to the rooftop, the sound of the city grew louder—the distant rumble of voices, car horns, and the crackle of fireworks. Claire stayed close to Jack, her steps steady despite the alcohol coursing through her. But she couldn’t shake the weight of Leon’s presence, the tension still clinging to her like a second skin.

 

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

 

The countdown began, and despite being surrounded by familiar faces, Claire felt like a stranger even to herself

 

Jack’s voice broke her thoughts. “Hey, look at that view. This city knows how to put on a show.”

 

She smiled faintly, glancing toward the skyline as fireworks began lighting up the horizon. Her fingers curled into Jack’s jacket, grounding herself in his warmth, in his normalcy. 

 

“Seven! Six! Five!”

 

A glass of champagne was pushed to her hand by Rebecca, and Claire took it gratefully.

 

“Four! Three! Two!” 

 

And as the clock struck midnight and the cheers erupted around them, Claire acted on pure instinct. Before she could really stop herself her arms were around Jack, pulling him into a kiss more passionate that she’d have allowed herself had she been sober. The noise of the rooftop faded into the background as his hands settled on her waist, steady and sure, pulling her closer.

 

But as the fireworks exploded in the sky above, the kiss felt more like an escape than a celebration. She pulled back slightly, scanning his face and looking almost disappointed.

 

“Happy New Year,” Jack whispered, giving her that charming smile that almost made her forget why she’d ever consider leaving.

 

Claire forced a smile in return, her hands dropping to his chest. “Happy New Year.” 

 

Around them, laughter and shouts of excitement echoed into the night. Jill and Chris exchanged a loud toast, their glasses clinking over the din. Rebecca stood nearby, smiling faintly as Barry wrapped his daughters into a big bear hug. He fumbled for his phone, already preparing to call his wife. 

 

Claire tried to soak it in, to ground herself in the moment, but her gaze betrayed her. It drifted again— inevitably, stupidly— to Leon.

 

He was near the edge of the rooftop, just breaking off a hug with Sherry, his arm still draped protectively around her shoulder as she talked animatedly. The sight of him was disarming in its simplicity. He looked… at ease. Claire hated that it made her chest tighten.

 

“Claire?” Jack’s voice pulled her back.

 

She blinked, forcing her focus back to him. “Yeah?”

 

“You okay?” His brow furrowed slightly, concern creeping into his voice.

 

She nodded quickly, plastering on a smile. “Yeah. Just... a lot of champagne.”

 

Jack chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’ve barely had a sip.” That wasn’t really true, she’d been drinking all night, he just hadn’t noticed.

 

Claire laughed softly, the sound not quite reaching her eyes. “Guess I’m just tired.”

 

He seemed to accept that, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I can see that.”

 

She nodded, lingering in his touch for a second. “I’ll go say New Year’s to everyone.” 

 

Chris was the first to pull her into a bear hug, his voice loud and unapologetically boisterous as he rambled on about how quickly time was flying by. She laughed, patting his back as he squeezed her a little too tightly.

 

Jill followed, far more composed but still visibly tipsy, her smile wide as she raised a toast with Claire. “Another year, Redfield,” she said, clinking their glasses. 

 

Barry and Moira were next, wishing her well with their usual warmth. Kathy and Polly’s voices came through Barry’s phone, their New Year’s wishes echoing over the rooftop.

 

Finally, Sherry disentangled herself from Leon’s side, stumbling forward with all the grace of someone several drinks past their limit. She threw herself into Claire’s arms, clinging to her with a sloppy, unsteady embrace. “Happy New Year, Claire!” she exclaimed, her voice shaking as a fresh wave of tears welled up. Her face was blotchy, streaked with mascara, her emotions spilling over in the way only too much champagne could bring out.

 

“Hey, Sher,” Claire said softly, wrapping her arms around her and steadying her as best she could. “Happy New Year.”

 

Sherry pulled back slightly, hiccupping as she wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “Can you believe it’s…” Her words faltered, her brow furrowing deeply as she tried to grasp the thought.

 

She turned toward Leon, who hadn’t moved far and was watching her with a mixture of fondness and amusement. “What year is it again?”

 

“2009, Sher,” Leon supplied smoothly, the corners of his mouth twitching as he held back a smile.

 

“Right,” she said, nodding vigorously. “I knew that.”

 

Claire laughed softly, pulling Sherry back into a hug to keep her upright. She glanced up at Leon, raising an eyebrow. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

 

Leon met her gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment before a small smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It really is.”

 

Sherry sniffled loudly, oblivious to the charged silence that passed between the two of them. “I just love you both so much,” she slurred, her arms flinging out to gesture at them both. 

 

Claire chuckled, keeping her arms steady around her so she wouldn’t stumble. “It’s ok to cry, Sherry. We both love you too.”

 

Leon rubbed the girl’s back, showing quiet support but not speaking past the laughter he was trying to contain. “Yeah, we both do.” 

 

“I just-…” Sherry sniffled, “wouldn’t be here without the two of you and I-…” she choked on a sob, burying her face on Claire’s chest.

 

Claire’s amusement softened into something warmer, more protective. She rubbed Sherry’s back in slow, soothing circles. “Hey, hey,” she murmured, her voice steady despite the grin she couldn’t entirely hide. “You’re just a little drunk, sweetheart. Let’s get you some water.”

 

Sherry sniffled, pulling back reluctantly but still leaning heavily on Claire for balance. “Water’s boring,” she muttered, pouting like a child.

 

Leon stepped in, gently taking Sherry’s arm to steady her other side. “Not as boring as passing out before 1 a.m.,” he quipped, his tone teasing but kind.

 

Claire shot him a grateful glance as they began guiding Sherry toward the staircase. The party noise dimmed slightly as they moved inside, the chill of the rooftop replaced by the warmth of the house.

 

“I’m fine, you know,” Sherry protested, though her unsteady walk said otherwise.

 

“Of course you are,” Claire replied, humoring her as they reached the kitchen. She grabbed a glass, filling it with water and handing it to Sherry. “Drink this. All of it.”

 

Sherry pouted but obeyed, sipping at the glass while leaning against the counter.

 

Leon leaned beside her, his hands in his pockets, watching her closely. “Feel better?”

 

Sherry nodded dramatically, setting the empty glass down with a clink. “So much better.”

 

“Good,” Claire said, her tone half amused, half relieved. She reached out, smoothing a hand over Sherry’s hair. “Why don’t you sit down for a bit? Take a break from all the champagne.”

 

Sherry groaned but let them guide her to a couch. She slumped into it, her head leaning against Leon’s shoulder as he sat down next to her. “I’ve missed you both so much,” she cried.

 

Leon patted her head in an almost comically awkward gesture. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve missed you too,” he said soothingly.

 

Claire exchanged a look with him, who shrugged slightly. “She’ll be out in five minutes,” he whispered.

 

Sherry shook her head stubbornly, but didn’t really argue against it. Claire chuckled, watching her with equal parts nostalgia and adoration.

 

Sherry shook her head stubbornly, though her eyelids were already drooping. “I’m not going to sleep,” she muttered, her voice thick with drowsiness.

 

Claire chuckled, watching her with a mixture of nostalgia and affection. “Sure you’re not.” Sherry had come so far, but in moments like this, she was still the same kid they’d fought to protect, trusting them with her life up until that day.

 

The sound of footsteps drew Claire’s attention, and she turned to see Jack strolling into the kitchen. His easy grin was in place, but his eyes flickered between Sherry, Claire, and Leon before settling on her. “Everything okay?” he asked.

 

“Yeah,” Claire said quickly, straightening up. “Just making sure Sherry survives the night.”

 

Jack chuckled, moving to Claire’s side and slipping a hand around her waist. “Alright…” His tone was light, but his gaze lingered on Leon for a minute too long.

 

Then, lowering his voice, Jack gently tugged Claire aside. “Listen,” he began, scratching the back of his neck like he always did when he was trying to soften something. “Nick called me. Said some of the guys are meeting up at his place, and I figured I’d swing by.”

 

“Oh?” Claire tilted her head, the surprise in her voice genuine but devoid of hurt. Truthfully, she doubted he was heading to Nick’s or anyone else’s house for that matter, but the realization didn’t sting as much as it should have. Instead, it left her feeling oddly numb, and even relieved that he was leaving.

 

“Are you planning on driving?” she asked, her voice even.

 

Jack let out a small sigh of relief at her lack of protest. “Yeah, I haven’t had much to drink, since I was gonna drive us back anyways. I figured maybe you could stay over at Jill’s?”

 

Claire narrowed her eyes at him, though there was more resignation than anger in her expression. “Sure, Jack. Go wherever you want. I’ll figure it out.”

 

For a moment, Jack hesitated, perhaps expecting more pushback. But when Claire simply turned her attention back toward Sherry and Leon, he nodded awkwardly. “Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Claire replied absently, already halfway out of the conversation.

 

Jack hesitated for half a second, but when Claire made no move to argue, he nodded. “Thanks, babe.” Jack pressed a quick kiss to her temple before heading out, leaving the faint scent of his cologne behind. Claire exhaled deeply, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly now that he was gone.

 

Behind her, Leon’s voice broke the quiet. “Well,” he said dryly, “that seemed… festive.”

 

Claire turned back to him, her eyes glaring daggers but the anger from before much more faded. “Don’t start,” she cautioned.

 

“Wasn’t planning to.” Leon raised his hands innocently, though his eyes sparkled with amusement. 

 

Still half-asleep, half-drunk, Sherry looked up from Leon's shoulder. “Are you guys fighting again?” she whined, brand new tears forming in her eyes.

 

Claire and Leon exchanged a glance, both caught off guard. It took every ounce of restraint not to burst out laughing at her drunken outburst.

 

“No, Sherry—” Claire started, her voice as gentle as she could manage.

 

“We’re not—” Leon chimed in, his tone equally soft.

 

“Okay,” Sherry sniffled, her concern evaporating as quickly as it had appeared. She slumped back into Leon’s shoulder, snuggling closer as her eyelids fluttered shut.

 

Claire shook her head fondly, sitting on the edge of the couch. “She’s going to feel this tomorrow.”

 

“Definitely.” He chuckled, the silence lingering for a second before he spoke again. “If you need a ride home, I’ve got you,” he said quietly.

 

Claire hesitated, her eyes meeting his for a long moment. “Thanks. I might take you up on that.” She sighed, glancing at Sherry. “I think I’ll just bring her back to my place instead of trying to figure out which hotel she’s staying at.”

 

“Good call,” Leon replied, shifting slightly to make Sherry more comfortable without waking her.

 

The next hour passed in a blur. Claire floated between brief conversations with Rebecca and some of the other lingering guests, while Leon stayed anchored on the couch, Sherry still draped over him. By the time the clock edged past two, the house was quieting, the energy from earlier finally winding down.

 

Leon nudged Claire’s shoulder gently, his voice low but insistent. “Claire. Come on, let’s get going. You look like you’re about to pass out too.”

 

Claire blinked at him, realizing just how heavy her limbs felt. “Yeah,” she murmured, brushing a hand through her hair. “Let’s go.”

 

After gently waking Sherry up, Claire made her way towards Chris, rubbing his back to get his attention back from whatever conversation he was having with Barry.

 

“Leaving already?” he asked, his words slightly slurred.

 

“Yeah,” Claire replied. “Sherry’s about five seconds from passing out completely.”

 

Chris nodded, throwing an arm around Claire and squeezing her tightly. “Happy New Year, Claire. Love you.” If he noticed Jack's absence, he didn't comment. Which made her grateful for the amount of alcohol consumed.

 

“Love you too, Chris,” Claire said, patting his back affectionately. “Take it easy, okay?”

 

Jill appeared next, still holding her glass of champagne. “You’re taking off?” she asked, her sharp eyes flicking toward Sherry. “Good call. She’s going to hate life tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah, she’ll survive,” Claire said with a small laugh.

 

“Call me tomorrow,” Jill said, her demanding finger signaling that she'd probably caught on to more than Claire wanted her to. Jill hugged her tightly. “And let me know you got home safe.”

 

“Will do.”

 

Barry and Rebecca chimed in with their farewells, the former offering a hearty pat on Leon’s back. “Take care of them, Kennedy,” Barry said, his tone half-teasing, half-serious.

 

Leon nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Always do.”

 

As they headed for the door, Claire glanced over her shoulder one last time at the group of familiar faces, the laughter and warmth filling the room despite the late hour. A pang of nostalgia hit her, but she shook it off. “Let’s go.”

 

Leon helped guide Sherry out to his car, slipping his jacket off and draping it over her shoulders. She mumbled a thank-you before leaning heavily against him, as he carefully settled her into the back seat before opening the passenger door for Claire. “Ready?” he asked as she climbed in.

 

“Yeah,” she said, buckling her seatbelt as he walked to the driver's seat. 

 

The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine and the occasional pop of leftover fireworks filling the silence. Sherry mumbled incoherently from the backseat, but Claire kept her gaze on the passing lights outside.

 

“You okay?” Leon asked, glancing at her briefly.

 

Claire sighed, her breath fogging up the window. “Yeah. Just... a lot to think about.” When they arrived at her apartment building, Leon parked the car, offering to help her inside, which Claire refused, already unbuckling her seatbelt and leaning backwards to wake Sherry up. “It's ok, I got her.”

 

Leon hesitated, stepping out to help them. “Just let me walk you inside.”

 

Claire rolled her eyes, not unkindly, and didn’t argue, her focus on guiding Sherry toward the building’s entrance. Leon followed close behind, his presence solid and reassuring as they navigated the short walk inside. When they reached her door, Claire unlocked it and led Sherry to the couch, helping her settle under a blanket.

 

“She’s out cold,” Claire said softly, glancing down at Sherry’s peaceful face.

 

Leon chuckled quietly. “Figured as much.”

 

Claire turned to him, her expression softening. “Thanks for the ride. And for sticking around.”

 

He shrugged, offering a small smile. “Anytime.”

 

They stood in the doorway for a moment, neither speaking as the weight of the night hung between them. Finally, Leon broke the silence. “You sure you’re okay?”

 

Claire nodded, a faint, tired smile on her lips. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

 

He lingered, unsure what else he could say. “Well, if you're not… You know where to find me.”

 

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I do.”

 

“Happy New Year, Claire,” he said, “hope it's good to you.” Claire nodded, offering him a smile more genuine than she cared to admit.

 

“Happy New Year, Leon… I'll see you around.”

 

“Yeah. Don't be a stranger.”

 

Notes:

[hehe]

That's not the last you'll see of them ;)

If you thought at some point that Sherry's drunkenness was unrealistic... unfortunately it's exactly how I acted on my bday, and I definitely think she'd be a drunk crier.

I'm not that creative with chapter titles, but ai do love making playlists, so every chapter is named after a lyric that I think fits what's happening. This one is Not Allowed by TV girl.

Comments and kudos are immensely appreciated, because they really really keep me going. And if you're feeling generous, I'm always open to hear what you liked and didn't like :)))

And without much more to say, happy 2025! Whoever you are, wherever you are, hope you had one helluva year. And if that wasn't the case, I send you a hug and my very best wishes for a better one next year!

Chapter 2: When the world stopped moving, I just want you to hold me

Notes:

A/N: Hey! So, here's where things start kicking off. I was met with great support on the first chapter, which is why I decided to post this one a day earlier :))
Thank you for all your comments and kudos, they're infinitely appreciated.

February 20th, 2009 - Washington D.C.

 

It had been nearly a month of relentless exhaustion, the kind that left Claire feeling, in every sense of the word, like a zombie. She moved through her days on autopilot, fueled by sheer willpower and caffeine as she trudged through endless meetings and reports. Each night, she collapsed into bed the moment she got home, too tired to even muster the energy to eat properly. Food had become almost repulsive—just the thought of it left her stomach churning.

 

Stress, she told herself. Just stress. But even she knew she was pushing it too far. Each day that passed had made her more sure that it was something else, until she'd given in to the nervousness that her gut might be right .

 

Which led her to now. Claire paced the confined space of her bathroom, as she felt her resolve beginning to crack. Her heart pounded in her chest as she moved back and forth, every nerve alight with anticipation as she waited for the timer to buzz. The minutes seemed to stretch into eternity, her breaths coming shallow and quick.

 

Unable to bear the wait, she dropped to the cold tiles, drawing her knees to her chest. "Just breathe," she whispered to herself, but the words felt hollow. The sound of her phone broke the tense silence, making her jump. Her pulse spiked again, but when she glanced at the screen, she realized it wasn’t the timer. It was a call she had been expecting but dreading all the same.

 

With trembling fingers, she swiped to answer. “Hello, Claire Redfield speaking.”

 

“Miss Redfield,” came a kind, professional voice. “I’m calling with the results of the bloodwork you had done yesterday.”

 

The timer finally rang, and as Claire fumbled to turn it off without ending the call, she figured that the test was pointless now anyway. She was seconds away from hearing the result.

 

“Everything alright?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Claire sighed. “Go ahead.”

 

She wrapped her slightly trembling fingers against the test, holding it but not daring to look at it. 

 

“The results came back positive,” the voice said gently. “Your hCG levels came back elevated. That’s indicative of pregnancy.”

 

The world seemed to stop, her legs feeling unsteady beneath her. She gripped the edge of the counter, her knuckles white as she struggled to steady herself. Her grip around the test tightening but momentarily forgotten. 

 

“I-... how- how far along?” she forced herself to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

 

“Based on the information you provided, about six to seven weeks,” the woman replied, her tone kind but clinical. “Would you like to schedule a follow-up to discuss your next steps?”

 

Claire let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes and swallowing the lump in her throat, rubbing her temple a little forcibly. “No.” She shook her head. “No, I'll- I'll call back.”

 

“Of course. Take your time, Miss Redfield. Just remember, prenatal care is important if you decide to move forward.”

 

She nodded numbly, gripping the edges of the sink. Her mind felt like it was splintering into a thousand different directions, but she managed to muster a quiet “thank you” before ending the call. The phone slipped from her hand onto the sink, and her trembling fingers finally turned the test over. She stared at it, unblinking, as her mind raced to catch up. She already knew what it would say anyway.

 

Two lines. Pregnant .

 

“Oh, fuck…” she whispered, the weight of the realization crashing down on her.

 

Claire leaned over the sink, gripping its edge tightly as her stomach twisted in knots. The nausea hit her like a wave, sudden and unrelenting, and she braced herself against the porcelain as she tried to take slow, steady breaths. This wasn’t just nerves—it had been her constant companion for days now, along with the exhaustion that clung to her like a shadow.

 

She splashed cold water on her face, the shock of it helping to ground her for a moment. Positive. Pregnant . The words repeated in her mind like a drumbeat.

 

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the wave of nausea to pass, but to no use. Moments later, she found herself leaning over the toilet, her body trembling as she emptied what little she’d managed to eat.

 

When it was over, she slumped against the cold tiles, her head tilted back against the wall. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her whole body shaking as tears pricked her eyes. The sensation was all too familiar, not unlike waking up from a nightmare, heart beating so fast it felt like it could jump out of her chest. 

 

Her hands trembled violently as she gripped her knees, pulling them closer to her chest. The pressure did little to calm the storm inside her. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, barely registering amidst the chaos in her body.

 

She let the tears come freely now, desperate as they fell down her face. Seconds stretched into minutes, each one agonizingly slow, before the tightness in her chest began to ease just slightly. 

 

Claire remained still, too drained to move, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her mind felt hollow, the earlier shock now a dull aching in the background. Slowly, the suffocating feeling began to ease, though her hands still trembled, and her mind was no quieter.

 

When she finally pulled herself together enough to move, she dragged herself into the shower. The hot water pounded against her skin, grounding her just enough to wash away the remnants of surprise. After brushing her teeth with trembling hands, she sank into bed, exhaustion pulling at her from all sides. 

 

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. She reached for it, expecting another late-night email from work, but instead, it was a text from Jill. 

 

Jill: Hey. Think this missions gonna be longer thsn we expected. Chris and I hope to be back by next week but yknow how these things are… I'll keep you posted. Everything ok over there?

 

Claire stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. She wanted to answer, to tell Jill everything, but no words came. She set the phone down.

 

She lay awake long after she had crawled into bed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as the faint glow of the city light seeped through the curtains. 

 

Pregnant .

 

The word felt surreal, like it belonged to someone else. She ran a hand over her abdomen instinctively, the gesture hesitant and unsure. There was no noticeable difference, no change she could feel, but the knowledge alone made her hyper aware of every symptom she'd overlooked. 

 

She rolled onto her side, hugging the pillow tightly. Sleep didn’t come easily, and when it did it was restless.

 

The morning after was no better than the night before. Claire barely slept, tossing and turning as the news settled heavier in her chest. The quiet hum of the city outside her window felt out of place. The world around her had moved on while she stood still in the eye of a storm.

 

Six to seven weeks.

 

The thought made her stomach churn, though whether from nausea or nerves, she wasn’t sure. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, forcing herself to stand. There was no time to wallow. The world wouldn’t stop turning just because hers had tilted off its axis. But there was no getting around it. She couldn’t keep it to herself forever.

 

It was early afternoon by the time Jack texted her.

 

Jack: Remember that big promotion I told you about? Get ready, I'll pick you up at 9. Dinner's on me ;)

 

The news brought a small relief to her, that at least he was in a good mood, that he'd reached out to her before she'd had to. No part of her wanted to have dinner though, not when all she wanted to do was stay in bed. 

 

Claire: I'll see you then.

 

Every hour felt like a countdown to an inevitable crash. Even before the news, she knew they were on their final stages, and this just felt like it would be the nail in the coffin. But avoiding it wasn't an option, and whatever decision she could make, she was still pregnant, and Jack needed to know. 

 

She regretted accepting his offer for dinner. She should've just told him over the phone or something– ripped the bandaid off and be done with it. But part of her ached for a last taste of the normalcy Jack offered. A quiet dinner, easy conversation, and the opportunity to figure out if they could ever make it work. She put on some nice clothes, got ready not for him but for the chance to feel a little more human than she'd had in the past weeks. 

 

It was past nine pm when he finally texted her saying he was on his way. Some cheap excuse about work and traffic she didn't even listen to. Finally, a knock on the door. 

 

Claire inhaled sharply, rubbing her eyes and steeling herself for what lay ahead. When she opened it, Jack stood there, a casual smile on his face that faltered when he saw the tension in her posture.

 

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside. “Sorry for the delay.” He kissed her and lingered in the doorway. 

 

“It's whatever, just-... needed to see you,” she answered, an involuntary hint of vulnerability tinging her voice. 

 

“Oh?” He narrowed his eyes, not really used to her seeking him out first unless it was for another reason entirely, and based on her expression he didn't think that's what this was. But, in usual Jack fashion, he didn't press further. “You ready to go?”

 

Claire nodded, taking her jacket and her bag and stepping out of her apartment with him. They made it to the restaurant, a cozy place he'd taken her more than once to make up for mistakes. They ate in silence, regret settling in her chest as a knot on her throat stopped her from speaking. 

 

“You've been quiet today,” he observed, but it wasn't really an invitation to talk about herself, more of a request to snap out of whatever mood she was in. “I got promoted at work. Doesn't that excite you?”

 

“I think it’s great,” she said, a forced and short smile on her face.

 

Jack raised an eyebrow, “that all you have to say?”

 

Claire rubbed her temple, wondering how she'd ever let herself put up with him so long. “I think you deserve it. I'm happy for you.”

 

“Think we should have a proper celebration,” he suggested, flagging down a waitress.

 

“Jack—” she shook her head, “— I'm really not in the mood to drink.”

 

He scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “Come on, Claire. Don't act like you're ever not in the mood to drink.”

 

The jab hit harder than it should have, but before she could snap back, the waitress arrived, and Jack ordered a bottle of wine without consulting her.

 

Claire stared at him, a bitter laugh almost slipping out. This was Jack—never reading the room, never caring enough to try. She felt the words bubbling up, the truth pressing at the edges of her resolve.

 

Oblivious as always, when the waitress returned with the wine and two cups, Jack poured the liquor into them without a second thought. Her hands squeezed her thighs, and for a moment, she considered letting the night pass without saying anything. Maybe she could push this off for another day, another week. But she couldn't.

 

“Jack,” she cut through his chatter about work. He looked up, his glass halfway to his lips, eyebrows raised in mild annoyance at the interruption.

 

“What?”

 

Claire hesitated, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. The soft hum of conversation and clinking silverware suddenly became too loud. “I'm pregnant,” she said flatly. She forced herself to meet his gaze, even as her chest tightened. 

 

She watched his face carefully, waiting for him to say anything at all. Jack stared at her, silent and just narrowing his eyes as if he didn't quite understand what she'd just said. “You're…what?” His voice was low, disbelief mixing with something darker.

 

“I’m pregnant,” Claire repeated, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “I took a test yesterday, and bloodwork. Six- seven weeks.”

 

He let out a short laugh, though there was no humor in it. “You’re serious?”

 

She nodded, her jaw tightening. “I wouldn’t joke about something like this, Jack.”

 

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze flicking to the wine bottle on the table before returning to her. “And you’re sure it’s… mine?”

 

Claire stared at him in disbelief, shaking her head. “You really think I would tell you if I wasn't sure it was? It took me by surprise too.”

 

Another pause. And then, the anger seeped in, just a crack at first, but then it surged, flooding his voice. Hadn't they been in the restaurant still, his hands would've probably hit something. "This isn’t just some surprise, Claire!” Jack scoffed, running a hand over his face. “We’re talking about a fucking baby.”

 

“You think I don't know that?” She shot back. “You think I haven't been thinking about this every second since I found out?”

 

“And what, you thought dumping it on me at the end of the day was the way to handle it?” he snapped. “Jesus, Claire. You could’ve at least... I don’t know. Prepared me.”

 

“Prepared you? How the hell was I supposed to do that, Jack?” She asked, expecting no answer. “Send you a card? A memo? Cause if you could take your head out of your own ass for five seconds you'd understand that ‘preparing you’ is the least of my priorities.”

 

“For fuck's sake, Claire…” He sighed, not even able to look her in the eyes. “You told me you couldn't have children.”

 

It took all her willpower to stay seated, to not get up and leave. “That's what I thought, Jack. That's what they told me.” She refused to cry, not in front of him, but saying that brought a shakiness to her voice she struggled to keep at bay.

 

Jack’s hand gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white against the wood. His chest rose and fell with sharp, uneven breaths. “This isn’t just about me, Claire,” he said finally, his voice lower, and far too hostile. Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. “Things were going good for me, Claire. I'm not–...This isn’t what I signed up for.”

 

Claire scoffed in disbelief, the words hanging in the air like a dagger waiting to be dug into her heart. “What you signed up for?” she repeated, her voice low and trembling, not with fear but with the rage building inside her. “You think life works like a fucking contract?”

 

He didn’t answer, his eyes flicking away from hers as though avoiding the truth might make it disappear.

 

She took his silence as an opening to speak again. “Well, I didn't sign up for this either… But here I am, and here you are—pretending like you’re the victim because life threw us a curveball.”

 

“Well, what do you want to do?” he challenged. “Have you even thought that far, or is this just another one of those things you’re winging?”

 

Claire’s jaw tightened, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her voice steady. “Winging?” she repeated, incredulous.

 

“I've never wanted kids, Claire,” he said. “and you–” he looked at her, “—hell, you're barely able to take care of yourself…”

 

"Fuck do you mean?" she dared, her eyes narrowing.

 

Jack hesitated, but the fire in his eyes hadn’t dimmed. “You heard me,” he said, quieter now but no less cutting. “You barely sleep. You barely eat. I've seen you three times this month and all we've done is have sex. You think you can handle a child?”

 

Claire's chair scraped against the floor as she stood, her hands trembling but steady enough to grab her bag. Her chest burned with fury and an ache she couldn't quite place. Without a word, she pulled a hundred-dollar bill from her wallet and tossed it onto the table. It fluttered briefly before landing near the wine bottle.

 

“Dinner’s on me,” she said sharply, her voice cold and clipped. “Enjoy your celebration.”

 

Jack opened his mouth, his expression caught somewhere between anger and disbelief, but Claire was already turning on her heel, heading for the door. She didn’t care who was watching or if anyone had overheard their argument. Her vision blurred with tears she refused to let fall as she pushed through the restaurant’s entrance into the cool night air.

 

“Claire!” Jack’s voice called out behind her, but she didn’t stop. Her strides quickened, the sound of her boots echoing against the pavement as she moved without destination. She was done– done with his excuses, done with his selfishness.

 

“Claire, stop!” he spat out, grabbing her arm. The force of it made her stumble, and she whirled around her eyes blazing. 

 

“Don't touch me, Jack,” she snapped, jerking her arm free. “We're fucking done here.”

 

Jack sighed in exasperation. “For Christ's sake, Claire, just get in the car. I'll drive you home.”

 

He stepped past her and unlocked the car, opening the passenger door with a sharp motion. “Get in,” he said, his tone leaving little room for argument. “I'm not leaving you out here alone. Just get in the damn car.”

 

Claire hesitated, her pride watered down by her exhaustion. The last thing she wanted was to be near him, but her phone was almost dead, her feet hurt, and all she wanted was to go home. Against her better judgement, she stepped towards the car, sliding into the passenger seat without a word. The door slammed shut behind her, Jack rounded the front to get in. 

 

The moment he stepped on the engine, Claire felt the tension thickening in the small space. She folded her arms, staring out the window as he pulled out of the parking lot. 

 

Silence hung over them, suffocating. She could see the tension in his posture, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel. He wasn't just surprised– he was angry. 

 

No words seemed adequate, but she spoke anyway. “This is-...” Her eyes burned with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall—not in front of him. “This is happening, Jack. Whether you and I want it or not. And if you're going to walk away just because it's inconvenient for you, then fine. I'm not asking anything out of you.” She gulped, forcing down the sob that threatened to come out. “But don't try to blame me for your cowardice.”

 

Jack didn’t respond immediately. The tension in the car thickened, suffocating her as the engine hummed louder. He shot her a glance, his voice low but sharp. “You’re really gonna do this, aren’t you? You’re really gonna make me out to be the bad guy here?”

 

Claire’s heart hammered in her chest. She turned her head toward him, her eyes fierce. “I’m not making you out to be anything you haven’t already shown me. That includes someone I’d want to have a future with. But shit happens.”

 

Jack’s gaze didn’t leave the road. The headlights cut through the night, illuminating the dark, endless stretch of asphalt. He slammed his foot down harder on the gas, the car lurching forward. Claire’s grip on the door tightened as the speed picked up, the force of it making her stomach flip.

 

“Shit always happens with you, doesn’t it?” Jack’s voice was tight with anger as he swerved between cars, pushing the car faster, like he was testing the limits of how reckless he could be. “You want me to just—what, be happy about this? What the fuck do you expect me to do?”

 

“Slow down,” Claire snapped, the dread in her gut rising as her fingers curled into her seat. “You’re driving like a fucking maniac.”

 

He scoffed, his eyes never leaving the road. “Goddammit, Claire… This was supposed to be a happy day, and you're acting like a child.”

 

Claire gripped her seatbelt with one hand, her fingers digging into the fabric as she tried to steady herself. She didn't even dare to look at the speedometer. All her life she'd been a fast driver, but Jack wasn’t just driving fast, he was driving reckless.

 

The car swerved again, narrowly avoiding an oncoming truck as Jack slammed the pedal down even harder. Claire’s heart was in her throat, the panic clawing at her chest. He didn’t slow down, but he at least stayed in their lane.

 

“Stop the fucking car, Jack,” she demanded, her voice low but edged with a panic she couldn't really control. “I mean it. You're going to kill us both.”

 

The lights were blurred by how fast they were going. Even if Jack didn't seem to take her worry into consideration, he did slow down the smallest amount.

 

“Kill us both?” He asked with a bitter laugh. “Or kill you both?”

 

For a moment all she could do was stare at him and wonder how she’d ever let it get so far. He’d had bad days; days when the sound of anyone’s voice seemed to set him off. But whatever this was, Claire had never seen it before— wouldn't have even told him if she had. Jack was an idiot, that much she knew, but this was beyond him.

 

“Listen to me,” she began, her voice shakier than she thought it’d be, from rage or panic— she didn’t know. “I’m not asking you for anything, Jack. I won’t ask for your money, I'm sure as hell not asking for your presence. But if you don’t stop the car, I’ll make your life a living hell.” 

 

Jack scoffed bitterly, but she could see he was processing her words. After everything she’d been through, every time she thought she wouldn’t live to go home again, it seemed stupid to be so worried about this. But, if Claire had learned anything in her nearly thirty years of living, it was that nothing was as unpredictable as an angry man.

 

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Claire,” he said, pushing the car as fast as it would go. Finally, with a sharp jerk of the wheel, Jack made a U-turn that sent Claire bracing for a crash that never came. The tires screeched against the pavement, and she heard the angry shouts of other drivers as the car came to a halt in the parking lot of a gas station. The abruptness of the stop sent Claire forward against her seatbelt, her chest heaving with ragged breaths.

 

Jack didn’t say a word as he unlocked the doors, his eyes fixed on the dashboard. She needed a minute to collect herself, but she couldn’t bear to stay another second in the car with him. She didn’t wait for him to speak. Her hands fumbled with the door handle, and she stepped out, her legs shaky but held up by adrenaline. The cold February air hit her like a slap, but she barely noticed. She slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing through the quiet parking lot.

 

She turned to face him, the rage burning inside her like fire. “I don’t ever want to see you again,” she spat, her voice cold and final. “Don’t call me. Don’t try to find me. We could have figured this out, Jack. But you don’t deserve that.”

 

Maybe he tried to protest, maybe he didn’t. Claire didn’t stay long enough to find out. Her knees almost gave out as she walked towards the convenience store. She pushed the glass door open, the overhead bell ringing when she entered. Adrenaline cursed through her body, and in the quiet realization that she was still alive, her mind finally processed everything that had happened. 

 

Tears fell down her cheeks against her will, not stopping despite how hard she dug her palms into her eyes. She breathed deeply, saving her emotions from when she was someplace more decent. With heavy steps she walked towards the store clerk, a young girl not older than twenty, whose face was a mix of sympathy and curiosity, though she’d probably seen weirder things than a crying woman.

 

“Do you have a restroom I could use?” Claire asked, the lump in her throat barely giving way to her voice.

 

The other woman took a key from her desk, handing it to Claire. “Sure. In the back to the left.”

 

Claire nodded, not even able to say thank you. She gripped the keys so tightly, she was sure they’d leave a mark. 

 

The bathroom was small, feeling even smaller because she didn’t think she could breathe normally. Her knees buckled, and she sank onto the floor, not caring for how dirty it may be, her arms wrapping tightly around herself. 

 

In the span of 48 hours the steady walls she'd built for herself had crumbled down. She felt every emotion ten fold– because it'd been months since she'd allowed herself to feel anything at all. Every attempt at trying to feel normal shattered. Claire Redfield had led a life far from normal, but she'd come to terms with the fact that it would be hers alone. And so, the tears came desperate and relentless, spilling down her cheeks as sobs wracked her body. 

 

It wasn’t just about Jack—though his words stung like a fresh wound. She cried out of bitterness, the harsh realization that if perhaps life had been a little kinder to her, the tears in her eyes would be of joy– but they weren't. This time her sobs became more violent, charged with the knowledge that no amount of avoidance could make her ignore what was happening, and that, unlike Jack, she didn't have the privilege of fleeing. Any decision taken came with the unshakeable need to face the feelings she'd buried.

 

“ You’re barely able to take care of yourself. ”  Jack’s words echoed in her mind. Her phone was dead, the money she had was spent paying for a dinner she didn’t even want, no way to call for a cab, nor pay for one.

 

She realized then, that he was, unfairly and unnervingly right. She couldn't take care of herself, not at that moment. All that she wished for was for anyone to tell her what to do.  She wanted to call her mom, but the thought brought a cruel pang—she couldn’t even remember the sound of her voice anymore. 

 

Every bone in her body felt like it was on fire, trembling with the strength of her sobs. All she felt was regret. Of telling Jack, of ever giving him a chance in the first place. Regret over a decision she hadn’t even made yet. 

 

It was the first time in years Claire felt so pathetic, the first time she’d allowed herself to cry so freely. Jack wasn’t a part of her life anymore— she wouldn’t let him be, but the fear that, just minutes ago, he’d had so much control over her life, lingered. And, the cruel acknowledgement that, if she kept the baby, a part of him would always hang over her like a shadow. 

 

Minutes happened, or maybe hours, and Claire’s crying didn’t stop. A knock on the door snapped her out of her state, the girl from before speaking softly. 

 

“Hey, miss, are you doing alright?”

 

Claire wanted to answer, ached to tell her that she was, that she had everything under control. Or maybe she wanted to tell her that she wasn’t. Neither got past her throat.

 

“Are you safe? Should I call the police?” 

 

She closed her eyes, wiping the tears from her eyes aggressively. She’d had her cry, though tears were still burning her eyes. Something else demanded her attention now, and she couldn’t stay locked in the bathroom forever.

 

“I’m alright,” she called out, but nothing about her voice sounded like it. With an effort that felt almost impossible, she stood up, unlocking the door, and looking at the clerk with a face that almost begged the other woman not to ask questions.

 

Claire wiped her face quickly, though it was useless. “I’m fine,” she choked out, her voice hoarse. She wasn’t fine, and they both knew it. 

 

“Are you sure?” the clerk pressed, taking a cautious step forward. “You look like you’ve had a rough night.”

 

“Can I use your phone?” Claire asked, cutting the woman off. Her voice cracked under the weight of the question, desperation clear in her tone. “My- my phone’s dead, and I need to call someone. Please.”

 

The clerk hesitated for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, of course.” She signaled for Claire to follow her. She ducked behind the counter and pulled out a cordless phone, handing it to her. “Here. Take your time.”

 

Claire took the phone and gripped it like it was a lifeline. For a moment she froze, her mind searching for who she could even call.

 

Chris was on a mission. And there was only so much he, or Jill, could do thousands of miles away. There had been a time, very long ago, when no problem seemed big enough for him to fix. He'd been there for every scraped knee, every heartbreak, and every funeral. But this wasn't something he could fix. Her brother had stopped being her savior long ago– when she was forced to grow up too early, pushed to an independence that came back to bite her at the worst times. 

 

Before she could second-guess herself, her fingers moved on their own, dialing a number her memory refused to erase. It wasn't her first option, but it might be her best one. 

 

The phone rang, each tone stretching unbearably long. For a moment, she thought it would go to voicemail, and the thought of being truly alone sent a fresh wave of panic coursing through her.

 

Then the call connected.

 

February 21st - 12:12 am

The ringing of his phone broke the fitful sleep he'd just managed to fall into. Groaning, he rolled onto his side, the faint glow of the screen illuminating the dark room. He rubbed a hand over his face, buying himself a few seconds before dealing with whatever call of action he was receiving. He wondered what it was this time– whose mess he'd be sent to clean. 

 

But when his hand finally found the phone, his brow furrowed at the unknown number.

 

“Hello?” Leon’s voice was steady, low and laced with sleep and mild annoyance at the interruption, though he could hear a sigh of relief on the other end, the soft sounds of a woman crying. “Um, hello? I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

 

“No,” her voice came frantic, as if the possibility of him hanging up was the worst that could happen. “No. Leon- it’s-… it’s Claire.”

 

And the sound of his name, the sudden recognition of her voice, shook away every ounce of sleep that clung to him. He hadn’t heard her voice since New Year’s, but she didn’t sound like she had back then. There was no attitude in her voice, no smart remarks ready.

 

“Claire?” He asked incredulously, thinking for a second that he might be dreaming. “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

 

She hesitated, the kind of pause he recognized all too well. Panic. It was threaded through her uneven breaths, in the slight quiver of her voice when she finally spoke.

 

“Are you… are you in D.C.?” she asked.

 

Leon’s concern deepened as he swung his legs off the bed, already moving. “Yeah, I’m in D.C.,” he said, his tone firmer now. He stood, scanning the room for his clothes. “What’s wrong?”

 

Her response came in fragments, her words trembling and breaking under the weight of whatever had her in its grip. “I didn’t—” she paused, a sob breaking through. “I didn’t know who else to call. I’m sorry, Leon, I—” 

 

“Hey, hey, Claire,” he interrupted gently. “Take a deep breath, alright? In through your nose, out through your mouth. You know the drill.” He listened closely, his sharp ear attuned to every hitch in her breath as he yanked open a drawer and grabbed the first shirt he could find.

 

She tried to follow his instructions, but her breaths still came in shallow gasps. “I can't,” she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can't… Leon, I–”

 

“Yes, you can,” he reassured her. Leon didn’t rush her, didn’t push for explanations. He just stayed on the line. “Just focus on my voice, Claire. Just focus on that. Where are you?”

 

“I don’t know… I mean- a gas station. By the- by the interstate.” she managed, her voice thick with emotion.

 

“Aright” Leon said, already pulling a jacket over his shoulders and grabbing his keys. “Can you ask anyone where you are? I’ll go get you.”

 

The silence on the other end made him hope that she had people around her. “Do you-… the address?” she asked, her voice muffled.

 

He could hear someone saying an address that Claire repeated to him. 

 

“Alright. I’m on my way,” he reassured. “Are you hurt?”

 

“No,” she whispered, “I’m ok. Just-… I’ll explain it”

 

“Ok, Claire. Just breathe, yeah? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

 

“Ok.”

 

And if all the prior conversation hadn't convinced him that something was wrong, her lack of protest definitely settled the worry. If she was ok she would've turned him down, told him not to worry and that she was fine.

 

The line cut off and he wasted no time heading for the car. The streets of D.C. were quiet at this hour, the hum of the city accompanying his racing thoughts. The drive felt both too short and too long. His mind went over all possible reasons for her to be stranded at a gas station, to call him specifically out of all people, to be crying so desperately. 

---

Claire hung up the phone with the little sense of relief that someone was coming for her, a blow to her pride, but a relief nonetheless. She leaned against the wall, wishing now more than ever for a smoke. 

 

“Can I get you some water?” the cashier's voice broke through her thoughts. “On the house.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Claire accepted the bottled water with a whispered ‘thanks’. 

 

“Bad day?” the girl asked, her voice gentle, though there was curiosity. It reminded Claire of a bartender, listening like everything they heard was the most interesting story ever. 

 

“You have no idea,” Claire answered with a sniffle.

 

“Someone's coming for you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What's your name?”

 

“Claire.”

 

The girl nodded, standing beside her almost awkwardly. “Ron.”

 

Claire hummed, undeniably grateful for the distraction. “Sorry for all that. Didn't mean to make a scene.”

 

“You kidding? Weird stuff happens all the time here. Gas station on a late shift… I've got stories. But–” she tilted her head, studying Claire, “—You seem like you've been through some serious shit.”

 

Claire let out a bitter laugh. “You could say that.” She twisted the cap of the bottle idly. She'd never been the type to overshare, but the girl was a stranger she'd likely never see again. 

 

“I found out I'm pregnant, yesterday,” she sniffled, the words slipping out more like a statement than a confession, though it still felt as foreign. “Told my boyfriend today. He lost it. Started driving like an idiot,” Claire sighed. “Not my boyfriend anymore.”

 

Ron's brows shot up. “Jesus.”

 

Claire hummed, doing her best to keep the tears at bay. 

---

 

By the time Leon pulled into the gas station lot, his chest felt tight. His eyes scanned the area until they landed on the person he was looking for, sitting on the curb near the entrance. She was curled into herself, arms wrapped tightly around her body as if shielding herself from the cold. The clerk leaned against the wall nearby, her break evidently turning into an impromptu watch over Claire.

 

Leon killed the engine and stepped out, his steps echoing against the pavement with every step he took towards her. “Claire,” he called softly, his voice gentle through the concern that was written all over his face. 

 

Her head snapped up, her wide, glassy eyes meeting his. For a moment, she looked like she might crumble all over again. “Leon,”she breathed, relief flooding her features. She managed to stand up despite the numbness of her legs.

 

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, stopping just short of reaching out, almost trying not to startle her. 

 

Claire nodded, although she felt anything but  okay. As far as practicality went, then yes, she was okay. She wasn't hurt, not physically.

 

Leon looked at her, almost analyzing the tear tracks on her face, how her hair clung to her skin, and the nervous energy that rolled off her in waves. “Ok,” he whispered. “Let's get in the car. You're freezing.”

 

She hesitated, glancing at the clerk. “Thank you, Ron,” she said quietly.

 

The clerk waved her off with a small smile. “You sure you’ll be alright with him?”

 

“Yeah,” Claire assured her.

 

“Okay, then. Take care of yourself.” The woman paused before adding, “And good luck, Claire.”

 

Leon raised an eyebrow at the exchange but said nothing, offering the clerk a polite nod as he guided Claire to the passenger seat. Once she was settled, he closed her door, rounded the car, and slid into the driver’s seat. He started the engine, cranked up the heat, and angled the vents toward her.

 

They sat in silence. He had no hurry to leave, and Claire had no energy to say anything. Besides her sniffles, the hum of the engine was the only sound. Leon glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Claire-...”

 

She gulped at the mention of her name, looking out the window like it would make his questions disappear. When she finally spoke, her voice was just above a whisper. “I messed up, Leon,” she admitted. “I'm sorry, I didn't know who else to call.”

 

He watched expectantly, but with no intention to rush her. “It's fine. Y'know I don't mind.”

 

“I just-...” she sighed, trying to compose herself enough to actually tell him. She swallowed hard, her chest tight because she wasn't telling a stranger this time. “I– I'm pregnant, Leon.” The small silence that followed was unbearable, and Claire couldn't bring herself to look at him, but she couldn't stop the words now. “I didn't expect it. I didn't plan it… God, I didn't even think it was possible. It's… It's just happening, and I–” She broke off, her eyes burning with the weight of it all. “I don't know what to do.”

 

She could feel the weight of his gaze, could practically hear the gears turning in his head, but looking into his eyes would make it realer than she could take. Telling Jack had been nerve wracking– but he'd only ever known the version of herself she considered good enough to be a mother. 

 

But Leon… it scared her in a different way. Not because he'd react badly, but because– unlike Jack– this man had reason enough to doubt her. 

 

“Oh, Claire,” he whispered, his face shifting in understanding. Leon reached out carefully. Without hesitation, he reached out, pulling her into his arms with a gentleness that came like second nature. She collapsed into him, burying her face in his chest as the dam she had held so tightly burst open. He held her as close as the car seats allowed, his hand resting firmly against her back. He didn’t move, didn’t so much as flinch, as he let her cry into him. Her hands clung to the fabric of his shirt as if physically needing the reassurance that he was real. 

 

“You're ok,” he said calmly. “It's fine.”

 

When her sobs slowly turned into hiccups, she pulled back slightly, rubbing at her swollen eyes with the heels of her palms. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her voice hoarse and barely audible.

 

Leon shook his head immediately, his hand hovering over her face before settling on her shoulder. “No, Claire, don't-... Don't apologize.”

 

“Jack… Jack didn't take it well,” she croaked, her red-rimmed eyes meeting his unwavering gaze. “I wasn't expecting him to be happy, but he went batshit crazy.”

 

Leon’s brow furrowed, his hand still resting on her shoulder as he absorbed her words. His jaw tightened, though his voice remained calm. “What do you mean ‘crazy’? Did he hurt you?”

 

“No,” Claire assured him, shaking her head. “He didn't. But he… he lost it. Only time I looked at the speed we were going at 90 miles an hour.”  

 

His eyes darkened at that, and suddenly he had a much clearer understanding of Claire's earlier panic. “Jesus Christ…”

 

“He was angry. It wasn't just about… this,” she said, choking on her own words, unable to even say what “this” was. “He wasn't listening. And then he stopped here, and I-...” she took a deep breath, breathing to slow down her reeling mind. 

 

Leon didn't speak for a long moment, just let her cry. Claire didn’t need his anger, he was sure she had enough of that herself. She needed him steady.

 

“He’s gone, Claire. He won’t bother you again,” he assured her, and Claire swore it felt like a promise.

 

She sniffled, turning her head to look at him. “I don't know how to do this,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. “I don't know how to be… someone's mom.”

 

“It won't happen overnight, Claire. Just– one step at a time, yeah?”

 

She nodded faintly, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her jacket. “Y’know… all I wanted this year was a little peace,” she said with a disbelieving laugh, her voice trembling between amusement and frustration.

 

Leon chuckled easily, the sound warm despite the tension in the air. “Guess the universe had other plans.”

 

“It always does, doesn't it?” 

 

He hummed in agreement, looking at her for a few seconds. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” he asked gently.

 

Claire sniffled, so grateful for him for showing up that she couldn’t even bear to tell him that going back to her apartment felt like going back to a cage.

 

The hesitation in her expression didn't go unnoticed. He didn't say anything right away, instead started the car and pulled out of the gas station, driving slower than usual. 

 

Silence stretched between them, the only sound Claire's occasional sniffling. She stared out the window, her mind miles away, while Leon kept glancing at her, weighing his next words. He'd seen Claire in some of the lowest points of her life, but this was different– it had too many layers to unpack. 

 

“You don't have to go home right away. If it feels too heavy we can always go somewhere else for a while. Get something to eat. Take a drive. We'll park somewhere and just sit for a bit,” he offered, as much for her sake as his. 

 

She considered it, and even if part of her just wanted to sleep, everything he mentioned sounded more appealing than returning to the quiet of her apartment. Last food she’d eaten had left a bitter taste in her mouth. “That sounds good, yeah.”

 

“You've had a hell of a night… food might help.” He paused, his voice softening. “It'll take your mind off things.”

 

The drive was short, not taking them too long to find a restaurant that was open 24/7, which reminded Claire why she'd always been one for big cities. They stepped into the warm diner, the smell of coffee and fried food filling the air. Leon guided her to a booth in the corner, letting her sit with her back to the other late-night customers as he sat across from her.

 

A waitress appeared, a tired but kind smile on her face. “Can I get you two anything to drink?”

 

“Two decafs, please,” Claire said, her voice soft, “and a glass of water.”

 

The server wrote it down, leaving them with menus. Claire scanned hers without really reading it, her mind still miles away. After a moment, Leon set his menu down and leaned forward slightly. 

 

Claire could feel his stare, and so she set her menu down too. “What?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Claire huffed a laugh, rubbing her temple. “I know you're dying to ask about it. I don't think I have any tears left to cry anyway.”

 

He leaned back slightly, folding his arms across his chest as he studied her. “I won't ask you anything you don't want to tell me.”

 

She glanced at him from under her lashes, her eyes narrowing slightly. "God, you're infuriating."

 

“Am I?”

 

She bit the inside of her cheek, looking down to hide her soft smirk. “Very.”

 

The waitress returned, setting their coffees and water on the table,breaking the moment. They muttered a quiet thanks, Claire stirring her coffee absently as Leon sipped his. The waitress came back to take their order— two cheeseburgers and fries— and left once again.

 

Her fingers trace the edge of her cup as she finally met his gaze again. She stared down at her plate for a moment before picking up her burger, the smell settling how hungry she'd been. 

 

“You know, Sherry never told me how her hangover went after New Year's” he prompted. He knew it was a lame attempt at conversation, a reminder that they'd drifted so much that the last time they'd seen each other was two months ago.

 

Claire chuckled, and even if it took her a little off-guard, the question was a welcome distraction. “It went as expected. Neither of us woke up until two…” 

 

“You? Sleeping in?” Leon asked with a smirk, his voice tinged with amusement.

 

“Very funny.” She rolled her eyes, but her tone was warm. “Honestly, I’m just glad she gets to do normal things. Party a little, sleep in. Be a teenager—” she paused, correcting herself with a grin, “—young adult.”

 

“God, we’re old, Claire…” Leon smirked, shaking his head.

 

Her eyes narrowed in playful defiance. “Excuse me— you’re old. I’m still in my twenties.”

 

Leon shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Right. My bad,” he said, humoring her despite the fact that she was only a month away from thirty. He hadn't forgotten.

 

They ate quietly for a while, the clink of utensils and the low hum of the diner’s jukebox filling the space between them. Claire set her burger down, her curiosity getting the better of her. “What about you? Anything exciting?”

 

Leon shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “Work’s been… work. Same old stuff. You know how it goes.”

 

“That it?” she pressed, raising an eyebrow. “And outside of work?”

 

Leon smirked, his lips curving at the corners. “Well… I got a dog,” he said casually, though the words seemed to hang between them for a moment. It was an odd little detail, one that felt almost trivial compared to everything else that had happened, but it was precisely the mundane that hit harder, everything they hadn't gotten to see of each other.

 

Her brows shot up in surprise. “A dog? Seriously?”

 

“Yeah.” He chuckled at her reaction. “Hunnigan’s idea, actually. He needed a place to stay, and apparently, I needed the company. Win-win.”

 

Claire nodded, overcome by a wave of emotions she did her best to stay away from. “I think it was a good idea. Dogs are good company.” 

 

Should've gotten a dog instead a rebound. The thought went away as fast as it came, though it didn't make it any less true. 

 

Leon watched her carefully, noting the way her gaze grew distant for a moment. “You'd like him.”

 

A faint smile touched her lips. “What's his name?”

 

“Rex. Was already named when I got him. He's um-... a retired K-9,” he said, watching her a little sheepishly. 

 

Claire's eyes widened momentarily, before she gave him a bittersweet smile. “That tracks.”

 

And for the time it lasted, Claire found that while it hadn't strayed too far from her mind, it didn't feel as suffocating. 

 

When they finished, Leon flagged down the waitress and took care of the check before Claire could protest. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged. “You can get the next one,” he said with a small smirk.

 

“Next one, huh?” 

 

“Yeah,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “I’m not letting you off that easily.”

 

Her smile grew just a little, a genuine warmth creeping into her expression not for the first time that night. “Thank you.” 

 

They stood up together, feeling as if years had passed since he'd answered the phone. Leon watched her from the corner of his eye as they walked to the car, and if he tried hard enough, he could pretend that they were back in the days when it wasn't necessary for something life-changing to happen for them to have dinner. But when his hand found her arm she didn't shy away, and for now that was enough.

 

“Feel better to go home now?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

They got into the car once again. He could see the tiredness coming off her in waves, likely due to all the inconsolable crying she'd done. By the time he drove them back to her apartment she was half asleep. They made it inside, and it took Claire a great effort to not drop to the floor in exhaustion. It felt like she had lived  ten lives in one day.

 

She kicked off her shoes by the door, letting out a small sigh as she leaned against the wall for balance.

 

“You look like you're about to fall over.”

 

“I probably am,” she admitted, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She glanced at him, hesitating before speaking. “Leon?”

 

“Yes?” 

 

“Would you… would you stay?” she asked, bracing herself for a rejection she half-expected. She knew it was a bad idea, but God, he made it feel like the simplest thing in the world. 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Ok.” She bit back her smile and made her way to her bedroom, Leon following a few steps behind. 

 

Claire sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to shake off the lingering tension. Leon stood  by the doorway, lingering between wanting to help and not wanting to overstep. He hadn't quite regained his footing in her room, a place achingly familiar but now foreign.  

 

“You can take the bed, you know,” Claire said, quirking an eyebrow at him as she settled underneath the covers.

 

He hesitated, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again. It wasn't a request out of practicality, but the need to have someone near to prove that the world had indeed not ended. He recognized the slight pleading in her voice, he'd heard it before, many years ago in a low life motel in the outskirts of Raccoon City. And just like back then, he gave in– because she didn’t need to say it aloud; he understood. She needed him, just as much as he needed her.

 

They settled into the dark quiet, the room filled with the faint hum of the city outside and the rhythmic sound of their breathing. Leon lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing despite the stillness around him.

 

Claire shifted slightly, her voice breaking the silence. “Do you ever wonder… what life would’ve been like if Raccoon City hadn’t happened?”

 

Leon turned his head, meeting her tired, searching eyes in the moonlight darkness. The question hung in the air, thick with all the things they'd lost, a shared grief for the lives they might have had.

 

“All the time,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

Claire let out a soft hum of agreement, her eyes fluttering shut as she fought back sleep. “I think it just makes me sadder,” she replied.

 

Leon felt his heart ache for her, for the woman he knew, and for the woman she had been trying to find again for years. He wanted to tell her that it would be okay, that she'd be fine, that she would make an incredible mother if that’s what she chose, that he didn't know anyone as deserving of happiness. But every word fell short, too much or too little. 

 

Instead, he simply watched her, her body melting into the bed as exhaustion finally overcame her. The lines of worry on her face softened for a moment, and she almost looked peaceful.

 

“I know,” he whispered, his voice meant just for her and the quiet of the night. He allowed himself a moment to watch her, though he knew this moment wasn't his to hold onto anymore. And with that thought, sleep finally claimed him too, as his last fleeting image was of her.

 

Notes:

A/N: What an intense chapter! Before we really dive into the story, there's a few things I wanted to comment on just cause I love giving you insight and my thoughts on everything (which you can skip if it bores you, I get it.)

From its beginning, this story has been Claire-focused and Claire-driven, so I try to handle her character with nothing but love and respect for what she stands for, and I think that includes a woman's right to choose. Having a baby is messy, it's hard, and yet she will choose to do it regardless-- not because she was forced to, but because *she* wants to, a right I believe we should all have.

As for Jack... When I was writing him I struggled a lot with where to draw the line on how shitty he was, often because I'd think "Oh, Claire would never put up with that". But, along the way I realized that Claire being a strong, independent woman doesn't make her immune to toxic relationships, and that being in one doesn't make her weak either. I've tried to establish that she's not in a good place mentally, for reasons that go beyond Jack, beyond Leon. She's always been a tough woman, but I do think she struggles to ask for help.

Leon's mental health is talked about a lot (which I love and encourage everyone to keep doing), but Claire's is often sidelined. Very often he's the one out of the two who's struggling (cause Capcom loves to talk about his depression while forgetting about Claire's), but I love the idea of exploring that side of her and their relationship-- mostly the one that comes to realize that being vulnerable doesn't mean letting go of herself.

I could go on and on forever, and I love hearing every thought of how people see these characters. So, as always, if you have any comments or questions, I'll be delighted to receive them. Thank you for reading all this rant if you did, and if you didn't well, thank you anyways. Lots of love :)

Chapter 3: You sunshine, you temptress

Summary:

Jill and Chris are back, and in for a surprise.

Notes:

Title is from Fine Line which… go listen rn cause it pretty much sums this up.

February 21st - 4:47 am

 

He was running. A voice called his name but never came out. 

 

It was in front of him, and when he thought it was near it shifted to come up behind him again. It was desperate, screaming in agony and almost begging for mercy. 

 

Claire.

 

The voices grew louder, their screams blending together until they became a single, frantic call—a chorus of anguish.

 

It wasn’t just Claire anymore.

 

It was everyone.

 

The people he couldn’t save, the lives lost, the ones still crying out for help.

 

And now they were angry.

 

Their snarls echoed in his mind, claws scraping at his skin as if to tear him apart, demanding that he save them, reminding him how he had failed them.

 

And he couldn’t. He was drowning in their anger, their disappointment. 

 

Leon woke up with a jolt, his breathing ragged and almost constricted. It took him a few seconds to come back and realize where he was. He closed his eyes, breathing shakily as he tried to ease his racing heart.

 

As his senses returned he remembered that he wasn't alone. Claire. She was laying on his arm, her hand draped over him like she was afraid he’d slip away. The weight of her presence served as a small reassurance that it had just been a nightmare. She was alive, and she was safe. Moon filtered through the drapes and kissed her skin, just enough to make out the delicate freckles on the bridge of her nose. His mind had already processed that she was safe, and yet he couldn't look away. 

 

Slowly, carefully, he laid her head back on the pillow, easing his arm from beneath her. She shifted slightly but didn’t wake—she'd always been a deeper sleeper than he was.

 

He sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands as he tried to push the sleep away. He needed to breathe. After a few moments, he made his way to the kitchen, each movement like he might step on a landmine. The place was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator. He filled a glass of water, leaning against the counter and closing his eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, letting the remnants of his dream get carried away. 

 

Just as he was about to turn around, the shuffle of footsteps reached his trained ears. His body tensed for a moment, his mind instinctively scanning for a threat. But there was none. 

 

“Leon?” 

 

Her voice was soft, cautious, and it melted away the tension in his shoulders. He turned, hand still braced against the counter. She stood there in the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the blinds.

 

“Hey,” he greeted quietly, his voice hoarse. “Did I wake you?”

 

Claire shook her head, stepping a little closer. “No, I-... just felt a little nauseous.” Her eyes searched his face. “You okay?”

 

He nodded, forcing a small, reassuring smile, but it felt weak. “Just a… bad dream. I'm fine.”

But of course, she didn't buy it. She tilted her head, studying him the way she always did when she knew he wasn't being entirely honest. 

 

“Want to talk about it?” she asked, stepping closer until she was within arm's reach. 

 

He hesitated. The truth was, he did. Not because he particularly enjoyed revisiting it, but because he'd take any excuse to talk to her. But the reason why he was here in her apartment wasn't lost on him. She was dealing with something much more real than whatever demons haunted him. So he wouldn't make it about him. 

 

“Nothing you haven't heard before,” he answered, brushing her concern off.

 

Claire nodded, her lips pressing into a small line. Her hesitation was brief before she reached out, placing her hand gently on his arm and giving it a light squeeze.  “Well, you know I don't mind hearing it again.”

 

For a moment neither of them spoke. Leon felt his focus narrow to her eyes, the way they searched his like they were looking for something he wasn’t sure he had to give. Then, to his surprise, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him. 

 

He froze for a beat, caught off guard by the sudden closeness, but the hesitation melted as quickly as it came. His arms moved instinctively, one circling her waist, the other settling across her shoulders.

 

She held him tightly, her cheek pressed to his chest, and he could feel the steady rhythm of her heart against him—a quiet reminder that she was here, alive, and safe. His face settled into the crook of her neck, the soft rhythm of her breathing easing his remaining nerves. Neither of them said anything, but neither of them felt like they had to. 

 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Claire whispered finally, her voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the stillness.

 

Leon tightened his hold on her, just slightly. “So am I,” he murmured, and he meant it more than he could say. He was glad he'd been the one she'd called, glad that she trusted him enough to let him in when she needed someone.

 

Claire pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands still resting lightly on his sides. Her eyes met his, searching once again. “You sure you’re okay?”

 

“I am now.”

 

Claire gave him a small, almost sheepish smile, letting the silence linger. “C’mon,” she said finally, tugging his hand gently. “Let’s sit.”

 

He allowed her to guide him to the couch, settling down beside her. 

 

“Tell me about it,” she said, inviting but not pushing.

 

He looked at her, not stopping his faint smile at the thought that even after the days she'd had she was still so worried. “It was just-... voices. But every time I moved they'd get farther away.” He skipped the part where it was her voice he was trying to find– because it wasn't the first time he'd had this dream, or the first time he told her about it.

 

She frowned, her hand reaching again to rest on his forearm. 

 

“It's fine,” he said quickly. He was used to getting that type of nightmares, and having her there helped more than she'd ever know. But, even throughout the lingering tension, it was still her situation in the forefront of his mind. “I'm more worried about you.”

 

She gave a soft huff, her lips curving into a small, fond smile. “I’m okay, Leon,” she said, her voice gentle but sure. Her fingers traced absent patterns against the fabric of his sleeve. “It’s… a lot to take in, but maybe it’s not all bad.”

 

“Have you given any thought…” He paused, searching her face for any sign that the question might be too much. “I mean, of course you have, just…” He trailed off, unsure how to phrase it.

 

Claire hummed, understanding his hesitation, which only made her appreciate him more. “It’s all I’ve thought about, yes,” she said with a rueful smile. “I’m scared… that I’ll regret whichever decision I make.”

 

“Well, it's not an easy one.”

 

She exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting to the window as if she could find answers there. “I’d made peace with it, y’know,” she said, her voice lower this time, like the words were difficult to release. “I thought that maybe… it just wasn’t in the cards for me.”

 

Leon’s eyes softened, and he nodded slightly, his gaze never leaving her. “I know.”

 

She met his eyes briefly before looking away, focusing on her fingers. “After Raccoon City, I… I guess I thought I’d never be ready. But then, I was. And then I was told I couldn’t—” Her voice faltered, and she stopped herself, swallowing against the lump in her throat. “It just felt like I lost everything all over again.”

 

Leon watched her closely, his expression full of quiet understanding. He didn’t rush her, didn’t press for more than she was willing to give. He knew what she was talking about. He’d been there, in those late-night conversations where they both wondered if they could ever put the pieces of their lives back together.

 

“And now it’s... now it’s happening,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “And I don’t know if I’m ready.”

 

He studied her face, not out of pity but with the feeling that deep down, she already knew the answer. “And do you want to be ready?” He asked after a pause.  

 

The question hung in the air, stunning Claire because of its simplicity. Her answer came hesitant, like every word unlocked something she didn't want to face. “I didn't-... I didn't want it to go like this. With Jack and-” she sighed. “But I-... I don't know if I'll get the chance again,” she whispered.

 

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now,” Leon said softly, his voice breaking through her thoughts. He took the hand that rested on his arm, tracing the inside of her wrist.  “You’ve been through a lot. Give yourself some grace.” 

 

Claire looked down at their hands for a moment, her mind wandering to the deep fears she’d kept buried. She let out a long, slow breath. “I’d always wanted to be a mom,” she confessed, the words a quiet admission that felt both heavy and freeing. It wasn’t a secret. He’d known for years. But, life always had a way of complicating things. She was pregnant, and the reality of it was settling in, heavy on her chest. If she wanted to be a mother, she could be.

 

“I just…” She trailed off, unable to find the words that made sense of it all. How could she bring a life into a world that had taken so much from her? After everything?

 

His fingers fidgeted with hers, not quite holding her hand but not letting it go either. “I think…” He paused, searching for the right words, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “If that’s what you choose, then I don’t think anyone is more capable of it than you.”

 

Claire gulped, his words pressing into her chest like a much needed reprieve. She let out a shaky breath, glancing up at him with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. “You really think so?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

 

Leon met her gaze, his expression full of conviction he could only draw for her. “I know so.”

 

Tears welled up in her eyes for what felt like the millionth time, but they didn't fall. A man who had seen her at her best and her worst– the thought of proving him right was both a reassurance and a need. 

 

When she didn't speak, he filled in the silence. “You've been through hell, Claire. You'll get through this too.”

 

Maybe it was the late hour, maybe it was the unshakeable faith she heard in his voice, but she let herself believe it. “Surviving's not the same as living though.”

 

And god, didn't he know. 

 

“Well, you've still got your whole life ahead of you.”

 

She met his eyes and then looked away as a smile crept on her face. She was nowhere near as peaceful as she could hope, but it was enough.  

 

Her smirk turned into something gentler, and she gave his hand a slight squeeze. “Alright,” she said quietly. “We both need some sleep.”

 

He let her guide him back to her room, their steps quieter now, the tension that had hung between them softened into something calmer. When they reached the bed, Claire settled beneath the covers, her movements slow, deliberate, as though she were savoring the simplicity of the moment.

 

Leon hesitated for a moment before lying down beside her, careful to leave enough space between them to let her set the boundary. But as the minutes stretched out in the dark quiet, he felt the bed shift.

 

Claire moved closer, her hand brushing against his arm before resting lightly there.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the stillness. “For today. I really needed you.”

 

The words lingered between them, heavy with sincerity. He turned his head slightly, hoping to catch her gaze, but her eyes were already closed, her breathing evening out.

 

A faint smile tugged at his lips. He shifted slightly, closing the distance between them just a little. His hand found hers in the dark, and without overthinking it, he lifted it to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

 

“Anytime, Claire,” he murmured, his voice low but certain.

 

---

 

Fifteen days later - March 8th  

 

It'd been nine weeks since the beginning  of the year. Nine weeks since she'd last since her brother. 

 

Chris and Jill's mission had taken longer than expected. Though they'd returned when Jill said they would, protocol required them to quarantine before rejoining the outside world. Claire was grateful for the delay. Every phone call she'd had with either of them left her feeling guilty for a secret she knew she had to share. It gave her time to think, which was simultaneously a relief and a burden. 

 

So, as soon as Jill informed her they were cleared, Claire invited them over for lunch. She framed it as a casual meetup, nothing unusual. Cooking, which normally calmed her nerves, had turned into a battle to not throw up when every smell had her fighting nausea.  

 

She was finishing getting ready when her phone lit up with a message that made her stomach turn for entirely different reasons.

 

Jack: I've told you I'm sorry.

 

Claire stared at the screen, her confusion quickly hardening into anger. It wasn't the first time he'd reached out, and Claire dreaded that it wouldn't be the last. She'd made it clear he wasn't welcome back in her life, but as much as Jack was charming, he was relentless. 

 

As much as she wanted to pretend it didn't affect her, she couldn't pretend it didn't sting. Underneath her anger for him, there was a much more violent anger at herself. It was irrational, but being aware of that didn't change the fact that she regretted ever trusting a man who would put her in this position.  

 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of her phone, and when she'd already readied herself to give Jack a piece of her mind, it was a different contact that appeared. 

 

It didn't really surprise her, not as much as it would've a few weeks back anyway. They'd been calling each other more, and she couldn't deny the way her heart would speed up any time they did. And so, a smile tugging at her lips, she answered. 

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey, Claire,” Leon's familiar voice greeted her.

 

“What's up?” she asked, leaning against her vanity and letting her voice relax.

 

“Not much. Just got back from a meeting and was wondering if you were free today.”

 

Claire sighed, her cheeks flushing a little at the question. “Actually I've got Chris and Jill coming over for lunch in a bit.”

 

“Oh, really? Any reason why?”

 

She paused for a second, faced again with the reason they were coming. “Think I'm gonna tell them. Just rip the bandaid off, I guess.”

 

Leon hummed in acknowledgement. “You feel ready for that?”

 

“No,” she admitted with a soft laugh. “But it'll just be harder the more I wait.”

 

“Fair enough,” he said. “Well, if you need someone to talk to afterward, I can stop by.”

 

Claire’s lips curved into a soft smile. She didn’t even have to think about it. “Why don’t you come over for lunch too?”

 

Leon chuckled, a little surprised at the invitation. “You sure?”

 

“I could use some backup,” she said lightly. “Besides, it's been a while since I saw you.”

 

“Alright,” he answered without hesitation. “Need me to bring anything?”

 

“Just yourself.”

 

“I'll see you, then.”

 

“I'll be waiting.”

 

About an hour later, Claire stood in her kitchen, putting away some dried dishes. A knock was heard on her door, and so she wiped her hands on a towel, quickly heading to open it. She found Leon on the other side, jacket over his shoulders and a calm demeanor. 

 

“Hi,” he said, his smile widening as he saw her.

 

Claire chuckled, stepping aside to let him in. “Hey. Glad you made it.”

 

“Wouldn't miss it.”

 

“Whatcha got there?” she gestured to the bag in his hand, following him as he set in on the counter. 

 

“Dessert,” he answered. “Your favorite.”

 

Claire arched a brow, her curiosity piqued. “Oh really?”

 

Leon smirked. “Pretty sure.”

 

“Alright, you win this one.”

 

“Good,” he said, sitting down near the kitchen counter. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Like I might throw up,” she admitted.

 

Leon’s brow furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

 

“It’s nerves,” she clarified quickly, waving him off. “Mostly.”

 

Leon gave her a knowing look but didn’t press further. Instead, he reached out and squeezed her shoulder gently. “It'll be fine, Claire”

 

“Thanks.” She exhaled slowly, glancing at the clock. Chris and Jill would arrive any minute. 

 

They barely had time to settle when a firm knock on the door interrupted them, accompanied by the chatter of voices Claire could recognize anywhere. She opened the door to find Chris and Jill, both looking tired but happy to be back. 

 

“Hey, Claire,” Jill greeted with a grin, stepping forward to pat her shoulder.

 

“Jill,” Claire replied warmly, her voice steady despite the nervous energy coursing through her. “How are you?”

 

“Tired,” Jill admitted with a chuckle, “but in one piece, so I’ll take it.”

 

Chris followed behind her, ruffling Claire’s hair like he always did. “Hey, Claire.”

 

“Chris,” she replied, swatting his hand away with a small laugh.

 

As the pair stepped inside, Jill’s eyes landed on Leon sitting on the couch. A knowing smirk tugged at her lips. “Well, look who’s here,” she teased. “Can’t escape the Redfields either?”

 

Leon laughed lightly, rising from the couch. “You know how it is.”

 

“It’s good to see you around here,” Chris said, offering him a smile.

 

“Likewise.”

 

“Alright,” Claire cut through their chatter. “Lunch is ready cause I couldn’t bother cooking, so I just ordered takeout.”

 

Leon chuckled, moving to help Claire set the table. Chris and Jill exchanged a glance, but neither said anything, following Claire’s cue to sit and settle in.

 

The four of them gathered around the table, plates of food laid out between them. Conversation flowed easily at first, the usual exchange of whatever details they were allowed to share about their work. It was easy. Familiar– so much that Leon could almost forget he hadn’t been part of this dynamic for nearly a year.

 

But as the meal wound down, Claire’s nervous energy returned, settling in the pit of her stomach. This was as good a time as any, she decided. And so, she cleared her throat, setting down her fork and looking between Jill and her brother.

 

“So, uh… I actually have something to tell you guys.”

 

Chris and Jill turned to her, their expressions curious but casual. They didn’t seem to pick up on the gravity of her tone just yet, their focus still relaxed.

 

Jill caught the fleeting glance between Leon and Claire and smirked, leaning toward Chris. In a hushed voice, she teased, “You ready to pay me my ten bucks, Redfield?”

 

Claire frowned, her brow furrowing. “What?”

 

Chris gave Jill a side-eye but didn’t look too concerned. “Just ignore her. Go ahead, Claire.”

 

Out of their sight, Claire's hand settled unconsciously over her stomach, it wasn't really noticeable without being told to look for it, but she did feel different. Her heart raced before she went for a lighter approach. “Well… it’s good news,” she started, then quickly added, “Mostly.”

 

That got their attention. Chris’s brow furrowed slightly as he straightened in his seat. Jill tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Okay… now you’ve got us on edge,” she said with a curious look.

 

Claire took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

 

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the room was silent. Chris’s brows shot up, his mouth opening like he wanted to say something but couldn’t quite form the words. Jill’s reaction was more subtle; her eyes widened briefly before she spoke. 

 

“Oh. I thought-…” She looked between Claire and Leon again, the revelation not syncing fully in her mind. “Nevermind.” The doubt still lingered in her mind, but she felt a bit silly now for thinking whatever news Claire had to share was that they were back together.

 

Chris finally found his voice, but he was still a little shaken by the news. “Really?”

 

“Yeah,” Claire confirmed. “Nine weeks.”

 

Chris leaned back in his chair, exhaling heavily as he processed the news. “Wow,” he muttered. “That’s… a little unexpected.”

 

“Tell me about it,” Claire replied with a weak laugh.

 

Jill’s expression shifted to something more empathetic. “And how do you feel about it?” she asked gently.

 

Claire paused, her gaze dropping to her lap for a moment. “I was terrified, at first,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “But… now I think I’m happy. I mean, I’m still figuring it out, but—yeah, I’m happy.”

 

Jill reached across the table to give Claire’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Well, then, congratulations, Claire,” Jill said softly, her smile genuine. “That’s what matters.”

 

“I don’t- I don’t know what to say, Claire,” Chris admitted, but the previous shock had been slowly replaced by something much more warm. “This is-…” He sighed, shaking his head in disbelief, but it wasn’t bad. His gaze shifted to Leon. “You knew?”

 

Leon nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “Yeah, I was aware.”

 

“Is it…?”

 

“It’s not,” Claire quickly cut him off, his suspicion not going unnoticed by her. 

 

Leon coughed into his hand, looking away for a brief moment. Jill shook her head. “God, Chris, maybe don’t jump to conclusions.”

 

Chris raised his hands in apology. “Sorry,” he said. “I was just wondering.”

 

“It’s Jack,” Claire said, her voice turning a hint more serious. “But he’s not-… he’s not in the picture.”

 

Chris’s face hardened at the name, his protective instincts kicking in. Jill, meanwhile, was less subtle, her disapproval written all over her face. She leaned back in her chair with a quiet scoff, clearly biting back her true thoughts.

 

Chris opened his mouth, and the anger on his face was unmistakable, but Jill’s hand shot out to stop him. “Chris,” she said firmly, cutting him off. “Let her talk.”

 

“Listen, I know it’s not ideal.” Claire began. “And I’m not asking for anyone’s opinion on that. I just… I wanted you both to know. But I’ve made my decision, and I’m keeping the baby.”

 

Chris listened to her, nodding along to her words, equally impressed and disarmed by her way of handling things. It was bittersweet, if anything. “Ok,” he replied. “If that’s what you want, then I’m with you, Claire. Always.”

 

Claire smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Chris. That’s all I can ask for.”

 

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” Jill said. “And if Jack’s not stepping up, then he can go fuck himself. You’ve got us.”

 

Chris nodded, his jaw tightening. “And if he tries anything—”

 

“Chris,” Claire cut in, rolling her eyes fondly. “I can handle Jack.”

 

“I know,” he replied. “But he screws it up again and he’ll have me to deal with, yeah?” And even though his voice was more casual, there was a certain truth to his words.

 

Leon smirked. “Yeah, well, you’ll have to get in line.”

 

“Alright, alright,” Jill rolled her eyes, a wry grin spreading across her face “Men…” She muttered, shaking her head. “Besides, we all know I’d beat you both to it.”

 

Their conversation turned lighter then, tinged no longer with uncertainty but now with an air of familiarity. The chatter and laughter carried on, and when Claire rested her head on Leon’s shoulder, hearing Jill and Chris banter about their usual stuff, she allowed herself to be excited perhaps for the first time. 

 

But after a while of much deserved distraction, Claire’s phone started buzzing, and as soon as she saw who was texting, she put it on silent. If anyone noticed, no one mentioned it. Only Leon, who was sitting next to her, could see how her screen lit up— message after message. He saw the way she tensed slightly, holding up her composure to not damage the moment. 

 

Jill and Chris were too caught up in their own conversation to notice, but Leon caught Claire's brief, forced smile as she excused herself. She stood up and slipped out onto the balcony, and Leon didn’t hesitate for a second. 

 

He followed Claire outside, his steps quiet as he approached her. She was standing against the railing, her back to him as she tried to regain her composure.

 

Leon knocked lightly on the doorframe before stepping inside, his footsteps soft on the floor. She looked up, startled, her face quickly shifting into an attempt at casualness.

 

“Hey,” she said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

 

“Hey,” he replied, his voice calm but concerned. Without asking, he stood beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. His gaze flicked to the phone in her hand, then back to her face. “You okay?”

 

She hesitated. “Yeah,” she said after a beat, but it was unconvincing at best.

 

Leon didn’t push, but he didn’t need to. Instead, he reached out gently, his fingers brushing hers as he took the phone from her hand. She didn’t resist, letting him take it. He glanced at the screen—Jack’s name and a string of unread messages.

 

Claire sighed, her shoulders slumping. “It’s just... him.”

 

Leon locked the phone and set it down on the small table behind them, intentionally out of sight. Then he turned to her, his expression soft but firm. “You don't have to deal with this right now. Whatever it is, we can handle it later.”

 

Claire nodded, putting her head in her hands. “Yeah, you're right. I wish it didn't get to me, but…” she trailed off.

 

His hand found her back. “We all get it, Claire, really.”

 

The silence hung between them, and he didn't try to say anything, just a steady presence so she wouldn't drown alone in her thoughts. She gave a small chuckle, lifting her head from her hands. “I could really use a smoke right now,” she said, a smile playing on her lips despite herself.

 

Leon shook his head, his own smile soft and fond. “Out of all the things to miss…” he teased.

 

“Yeah…” Claire replied.

 

As the minutes passed, she turned toward him, meeting his eyes. “I really didn’t think this year would go this way,” she admitted, a slight shake in her voice despite the smile on her face. “God, if you’d told me a year ago, I would've laughed in your face.”

 

Leon chuckled, his gaze warm but thoughtful. “I can imagine.”

 

Her smile deepened, but there was a hint of something deeper in her eyes. “I think I’d be more surprised at you being here than at the baby,” she confessed, her voice quieter now.

 

Leon raised an eyebrow, the playful glint in his eyes matching her smile. “Yeah, well, one year ago, I think you would’ve punched me in the face.”

 

Claire laughed at that, shaking her head. “Yeah, maybe you deserved it.”

 

“Maybe I did.”

 

Claire's laughter slowly faded, and she studied his face as they both leaned over the handrail. His hand resting lightly on her back felt like a lifeline, and when he turned and met her eyes, Claire swore she stopped breathing for a second. Her lips parted slightly, and she knew then that she couldn't pretend she didn't want him anymore.

 

His hand moved up from her back, fingers trailing up her spine and lingering at the back of her neck. His touch was tentative, giving her the space to decide, but the invitation was clear– there was no rush, no pressure.

 

Claire's eyes searched his, looking for something she hadn't been able to find in herself. Her breath was steady, but her heart was a different story– as if it wanted to leap out and show her just how much his words meant to her. She opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat.

 

Her face was close enough that he could see the slight flush on her cheeks. It'd be so easy to just lean in and kiss her. He wanted to, with every fibre of his being. He'd wanted to kiss her since he'd seen her at Jill's. There'd been a time when he would've– without hesitation, and it'd have been natural.

 

She knew what he was thinking. She could see it in the way his jaw clenched. The air was thick, charged, and her eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips.

 

Leon took a slow breath, his hand moving slightly, as if he might reach up to cup her face, to pull her just a little closer. But, he couldn't ignore her situation. This wasn't about them. 

 

With every fiber of his being, he forced himself to hold back. His restraint was a quiet promise that he wasn’t asking for anything more than she was ready to give. Claire closed her eyes, letting the stillness settle over them, her fingers curling gently around his.

 

She exhaled a soft chuckle, her only acknowledgment of their shared reluctance. Pulling back slightly, she shook her head with a wry smile, her fingers still loosely tangled with his. “You’re not making this easy on me, you know that?”

 

Leon smiled, his thumb brushing the back of her hand. “I know. I’m sorry.”

 

Before she could say anything, her instincts took over. She closed the distance between them, softly and uncertain at first, but undeniably natural. But when she pulled back, she found herself apologizing in a whisper, “I'm sorry.”

 

Leon’s voice was a breath against her lips, “Do you regret it?”

 

“No,” she whispered without thinking.

 

“Then don't apologize.” His thumb brushed against her cheek like he was committing her face to memory, his nose barely brushing against hers. 

 

Before she could answer, his lips found hers again, this time without hesitation. His hands tangled in her hair as hers slid up to clutch the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

 

It was as if the world around them faded, their worries temporarily frozen. Claire was reprieved from her self-doubt, and he was too consumed by her to stop and worry if he was overstepping– and selfishly, maybe, he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when her lips moved with an ache he was almost desperate to soothe.

 

But before the moment could stretch any further, the sharp sound of the balcony door sliding open broke through.

 

Claire and Leon broke apart, their reflexes surpassing their bliss. 

 

Jill stood in the doorway, her eyes widening slightly before she raised her hands in mock surrender. “Shit. Uh—sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” 

 

Claire looked away to hide her soft blush, her hands lowering from Leon’s chest. “It's fine. I just needed fresh air.”

 

“Alright.” Jill nodded, biting back a smirk. ”Just checking in.”

 

Leon, trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips, cleared his throat and stepped back, giving Claire some space. He ran a hand through his hair, his voice steady. “We’re good, Jill. Don’t worry.”

 

Claire nodded, looking between them. “Yeah we- we were just about to go back inside.”

 

Jill shrugged. “Please, don’t let me ruin your moment.”

 

“Shut up.” Claire said, rolling her eyes fondly. 

 

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave you to it,” Jill teased, stepping back into the living room.

 

Leon shook his head, his lips twitching into a smirk as he turned back to Claire. “Subtle, isn’t she?”

 

Claire let out a breathy laugh, the tension between them easing. “She’s impossible.”

 

They stood there for a beat longer, the atmosphere between them softer now. Leon glanced at her, his eyes warm but almost afraid to find regret in her expression. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Claire replied, and even though she meant it, there was something she was holding back.

 

When they returned inside, Chris and Jill were lounging in the living room. Jill, true to her word, had chosen not to comment further—though her knowing glance at Claire said enough. 

 

Claire settled onto the couch next to Leon, her mind still buzzing with the events of the day. 

 

During their absence, Chris had taken the liberty of jumping to dessert. “Finally,” Chris said, setting down his plate. “I was starting to think you were avoiding us again.”

 

Claire rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t let you get away with stealing my dessert.”

 

“Smart move,” Jill quipped, handing her a plate.

 

Claire took the plate from Jill, offering a small smile in thanks. As the evening wore on, the laughter and the easy conversation helped Claire forget about the world outside for a while. In that moment, it was easier– to imagine a future she could bring a kid into, one where her child would be surrounded by this kind of love and security. And maybe, it wasn't so far out of reach.  

 

It was nearly midnight when Chris yawned and stretched, declaring his intention to head home. Claire sighed, barely able to hold in her exhaustion either. 

 

Jill and Chris started gathering the dirty dishes from the table, talking over each other in their usual playful back-and-forth. Despite Claire’s protest that she’d clean them later, they insisted on taking care of it.

 

“You go relax,” Jill said with a teasing smile. “I’ll take care of these. You’ve done enough today.”

 

Claire didn’t argue. There was no use in trying to convince them otherwise, and frankly, part of her was relieved. She was thankful for their help, but she was also glad for the opportunity to get a moment alone with Leon.

 

As Jill and Chris disappeared into the kitchen, Claire leaned back into the couch. The sound of running water and muffled conversation faded into the background, leaving her alone with Leon.  He hadn't moved, close enough to touch but more distant than she'd hope for.

 

"Thanks for everything today," she said quietly, almost testing the waters.

 

Leon’s eyes softened. "You don’t have to thank me. I’m happy to be here." 

 

Claire smiled faintly, feeling the tension of the day ease, if only for a moment. “It went well, got me excited and everything,” she admitted, her voice light but tinged with genuine relief.

 

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “You deserve to be excited about it, Claire. Don't let Jack take that away from you,” he said, his voice taking on a slight edge at the name, but otherwise reassuring. 

 

“Yeah,” she murmured, nodding. “If it’s not obvious by the next time I see Sherry, then I guess I’ll tell her next.” 

 

A quiet acknowledgement passed between them. Sherry was harder and harder to get a hold of recently, and even though they tried, there was only so much they could do. And Claire had to admit that the thought of failing her had never felt scarier.

 

“She’ll be over the moon,” Leon said, lighthearted again. “I think she’ll go crazy.”

 

Claire laughed, the sound genuine. “Don’t doubt it. That’s kind of why I’d rather wait. Until it feels more… real.” She paused, her gaze distant for a moment, and sighed. “Not sure how much more real it can get, though… I’ve been trying not to throw up all day.”

 

Leon’s brows knit together with concern, but there was a hint of lightness in his tone when he replied. “That bad, huh?”

 

Claire gave him a look, half exasperated, half amused. “You have no idea. But it's a small price to pay, I guess.”

 

For a moment, they sat in silence, the soft hum of the apartment around them. But as Claire's thoughts drifted to their moment on the balcony, to how easy it was to talk to him, to how easy it was to forget about Jack. 

 

“So… how long do you have off this time?” she asked.

 

Leon sighed, scanning through his brain to try to remember. “Well, I leave in a few days. Nothing major, just- boring stuff.” And though it wasn't necessarily true, he didn't want to worry her, or dwell too much in it. 

 

“Boring sounds good. It’s better than what you usually get.” She looked over at him for a brief moment, a silent question hanging in her gaze. Every impulse in her wanted to ask him to stay over, to kiss him again, to drag him to her bed and drown in him until she forgot. They'd crossed a line that day– it was impossible to pretend now that they could ever not get too involved. 

 

But she held back, for his sake more than hers. She didn't know what she was doing, with him, with herself, with the new life she'd just barely started to acknowledge. She knew, even if he brushed it off, that he had enough on his plate to deal with her mess on top of it. So, she didn't ask. 

 

The kitchen noises quieted as Jill and Chris emerged back in the living room. Chris shot Claire a smile and walked to the couch to gather his jacket. “You need a ride back, Jill?”

 

“Well, considering I didn't bring a car because you said you'd take me back… then yeah, I guess so.”

 

Chris scoffed, amused but all too used to Jill's wit. “Better get going then.”

 

“Yeah, I don't like you driving so late,” Claire said, leaving Leon's warm side to say goodbye.

 

Chris huffed a laugh, always amused when Claire worried about him like it was her job. 

 

Leon picked up his keys from the coffee table, suddenly very aware of everything that had happened.  

 

“You heading out already?” Chris asked.

 

Leon nodded. “Early meeting tomorrow.”

 

“Hope it's nothing too messy,” Jill added, her voice sympathetic.

 

“Yeah, I can hope so too.”

 

The four of them moved to the entrance, all their coats and stuff gathered as they took turns to say goodbye. Leon said goodbye to Chris and Jill, who pretended to busy themselves in conversation when he moved to say goodbye to Claire. 

 

She followed him to the door, lingering as he grabbed his jacket. She hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. “Take care of yourself.”

 

Leon hugged her back just as tightly, his lips brushing against her temple. “Always do.”

 

She smiled, squeezing his shoulders before reluctantly letting him go. “You call me when you can, yeah?”

 

“Promise.”

 

With a lingering glance, he walked out of her apartment– leaving her to the questioning and merciless gazes of her brother and Jill Valentine. 

 

Jill wolf whistled, looking at Chris with a raised eyebrow. “Will you finally admit that I won?”

 

Chris groaned but wordlessly took a ten dollar bill out of his pocket, begrudgingly placing it on Jill's awaiting hand. 

 

Claire rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “I'm not even gonna ask…”

 

Chris threw up his hands in mock surrender. "You two are adults. What you do is your business. I’m just not thrilled about being part of Jill’s game."

 

Claire gave him a flat look, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress a laugh that threatened to escape, not wanting to let them know just how much she appreciated feeling normal again. "And yet, you bet on it."

 

Jill shrugged unapologetically. “To be fair, it wasn’t much of a gamble. We bet it after New Year's, we just didn't-... we didn't take other factors in consideration.”

 

“The baby?” Claire raised an eyebrow.

 

“Yeah, that-” Chris rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Well, it took us by surprise.”

 

“We're happy for you, Claire,” Jill said, the remnants of her teasing \giving way to a much more genuine tone. “You'll be the best mom to have ever lived.”

 

Claire’s mock annoyance faded, and she stepped forward, pulling Jill into a tight hug. “Alright, alright. But bet on my life again, and I'm not making you godparents.”

 

Jill chuckled, patting the redhead's back. “You wouldn't dare.”

 

That earned her an elbow to the ribs, but the mood of the evening allowed Claire to laugh about it too. Jill squeezed her shoulders and pulled back, giving her another smile before walking out– giving her space to say goodbye to Chris. 

 

He sighed in amusement, taking a second to look at her before putting his hands on her shoulders. Claire furrowed her brows, urging him to say something. 

“I'm proud of you, Claire,” he began.

 

“Chris…” 

 

“I know-...” he cut her off. “I know it's a lot for you. But I also know you're a stubborn woman. Always been.” He sighed, but wasn't done yet. “So you don't let anyone tell you you aren't ready.”

 

Claire nodded, biting her lip to hold back tears. “I won't.”

 

Chris chuckled, pulling her into a hug. It couldn't fix her situation, but it let her breathe. “And I'm sure we've all said this, but-... you'll be a great mom, Claire. I see a lot of that in you already.”

 

Her shaky laugh muffled against Chris’s shoulder, hugging him like he held a promise that everything would really be fine. "Don't make me cry. I've cried enough to last me a lifetime."

 

Chris chuckled, patting her back before pulling away just enough to look at her. His expression was warm, but serious. "You’ve been taking care of everyone around you your whole life, Claire. This baby? They’re lucky to have you."

 

She sniffed, brushing at her eyes. "Thanks, Chris. That... means a lot."

 

"Don’t go getting all soft on me now," he teased, ruffling her hair affectionately.

 

Claire rolled her eyes, swatting his hand away. "Go on, get out of here before I change my mind.”

 

Chris laughed, squeezing her arm. “Alright. But you know where to find me if you need anything at all.”

 

“I do.”

 

With a quick wave, he stepped out, leaving Claire standing alone in the now-quiet apartment. For a moment, she stood in the entryway, her arms crossed over her chest as the evening settled over her. She had her brother, Jill, Leon, Sherry, she had herself, and soon she'd have someone else depending on her, someone she was determined to give the world to. 

 

She paused, her hand resting on her stomach. “We'll be alright,” she whispered to herself, finally letting reality sink in without feeling like she would drown. She had a lot to figure out, but she could finally see something to look forward to instead of something to fear. 

Notes:

A/N: Debated on whether to give you the kiss or not, but c’mon… they’re both so down bad. But, of course- it’s rarely that easy.

Love y’all. Very excited to keep sharing this story :))

Chapter 4: Don't let me in with no intention to keep me

Summary:

A glimpse to the past and a drunk call.

Notes:

GUYSSSS. I'm so sorry for disappearing for so long oopsie. I love love love this chapter, and I'm sorry for making you wait for it. Anyway, enjoy reading. Kudos and comments are infinitely appreciated. <333

April 2008 - 11 months earlier

 

The heels on her feet felt too tight and the necklace around her neck felt too heavy as she sat through the meeting. Another hospital they were chasing a partnership with. This wasn't her job, not really, but she was the only available employee for the visit. You're persuasive, Claire. That'd been their argument this time. And so, she had accepted. Not only because she knew it was true, but because like everything TerraSave promised, it was for a good cause. Besides, the hospital was close to her apartment. No reason to argue. 

 

Still, this side of her job had always been her least favorite. It was necessary, of course, but the endless meetings, the stillness– it left too much room for the nagging voice in her head to whisper that she wasn't doing enough. That she was far too removed from the frontlines where the real change happened.  

 

And yet,  the same voice never failed to remind her that she'd been handed the small mercy of  forgetting it had ever happened. She could've forgotten about Raccoon City, gone back to college, taken a normal job, met a decent man. A man whose job didn't threaten his every breath. A man who offered her a house with a picket fence and the children she had stopped imagining long ago. 

 

But Claire Redfield was stubborn, selfless beyond measure, and too self-sacrificing to run away from a fight she herself had been dragged to. She stayed. She fought. Not for herself, but for everyone else. Always everyone else.

 

The meeting was a success. Another stone to add to the balance that convinced her that she was a good person. The board directors let her go with heartfelt ‘thank you's’ and promises of future discussions.

 

Claire smiled her thanks and moved towards the lobby, carrying herself with the confidence of someone who had earned her place, not with a gun in hand but with a good head on her shoulders– though anyone who knew her could tell that her aim was just as sharp as her tongue. 

 

As she rounded the corner, she half collided with someone. The man sidestepped to avoid hitting her directly, the cup of coffee she'd been handed in the meeting soaking both their shirts. He groaned in frustration, shaking the hot drink off his hand.

 

“For fuck's sake, will you-...” He cut himself off abruptly when his eyes landed on her. 

 

“Well maybe if you were looking where you were walking,” she remarked, quick to match his tone. 

 

For a moment, he just stared at her, his annoyance visibly softening, replaced by something warmer. A charming smile slid onto his face like a mask he’d mastered. "You’re absolutely right. My fault entirely," he said, his tone disarmingly smooth.

 

Claire raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was mocking her or genuinely conceding. She couldn’t help but notice how out of place he looked—clean-cut, immaculately dressed and clearly not part of the hospital’s staff. 

 

“Jack Lewis,” he said, extending a hand as if the spilled coffee didn’t exist. His handshake was confident, deliberate, like every word or gesture was calculated to leave an impression.

 

She hesitated for half a beat before shaking his hand. His grip was firm but not overpowering—exactly the kind of handshake you’d expect from someone accustomed to charming people. “Claire Redfield.”

 

“Claire,” he repeated, his voice low and smooth, like he was testing the name on his tongue. His eyes scanned her with an assessing yet non-intrusive glance, and Claire felt strangely seen, though not in a way that made her want to shrink away.

 

“Let me guess…” Jack tilted his head, a playful edge in his tone. “Corporate training? Or no, maybe sales representative?”

 

Claire huffed a small laugh. “TerraSave,” she corrected.

 

His expression shifted, eyebrows lifting slightly as his smile took on a touch of admiration. “Ah, TerraSave. Now that’s impressive.” He paused, “I’ve heard good things. Important work.”

 

Claire nodded, not all that impressed by his flattery. “It's a messed up world,” she replied simply, brushing her damp sleeve.

 

Jack’s lips curved in agreement, his gaze lingering on her just a second longer than necessary. “It is,” he murmured. He gestured toward the nearest bathroom. “Let me get you something for your shirt. It’s the least I can do.” 

 

“It's fine.” She shook her head. “I was heading out anyway.”

 

“Fair enough.” He stepped back slightly but kept his gaze locked on her. “But maybe I do owe you a coffee. To replace the one I spilled– or to apologize for nearly knocking you over.”

 

She narrowed her eyes, fighting the smile tugging at her lips. “Has this ever worked for you?”

 

His smile deepened. “What? Owning up to my mistakes? Absolutely.”

 

Claire tilted her head, giving him a skeptical look. “Right.”

 

“A proper first meeting,” he clarified. “No spilled coffee. Just a drink—or dinner, if you’re feeling bold.”

 

“And what makes you think I'll say yes?”

 

“I’ve got a way with people," he said, not missing a beat, his grin widening just enough to make her wonder if he was joking. “Comes with the job.”

 

“Oh, yeah? Let me guess…” She echoed his earlier words, her gaze sweeping over his tailored suit, perfectly knotted tie, and polished demeanor. “Lawyer? Banker? Or…” She smirked. “Jehovah’s Witness?”

 

That earned her a laugh. “Close,” he said, pulling a sleek business card from his pocket and handing it to her.

 

She glanced at the card. Jack Lewis – Insurance Broker.

 

“Insurance,” she mused, arching an eyebrow. “Well, you’ve got confidence. I’ll give you that.”

 

“Confidence gets you far,” Jack said, his tone tinged with a playful weight.

 

She couldn’t help but smile, against her better judgment. “Coffee, huh?”

 

“Or drinks,” he offered again, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Dealer’s choice.”

 

“Well, Jack Lewis,” she said, slipping the card into her pocket. “I’ll think about it.”

 

“That’s all I ask,” he replied, his smile lingering as she turned to leave. “But something tells me I’ll see you again.”

 

“We'll see about that.”

 

She had thought about it… more than she cared to admit. He seemed decent. The surface level connection she craved. And on a particularly lonely night, when the quiet of her apartment felt suffocating and the echoes of past regrets pressed heavy on her chest, she had picked up her phone and dialed the number on his card. She hadn’t even been sure why—perhaps just because she wanted someone to answer.

 

By the next day, he had more than made up for spilling her coffee.

 

Dinner turned into drinks, and drinks turned into something inevitable. By the time they reached her apartment, the air between them buzzed with a kind of electricity she hadn’t felt in too long.

 

Their clothes scattered across her floor before she had the chance to second-guess herself. Jack’s hands were steady, his lips hot against hers, his movements confident but not rushed. He was good—almost too good. Every touch seemed practiced, deliberate, like the right steps to a complicated dance.

 

And for a while, Claire let herself get lost in it. In the way he held her, the way he whispered her name against her skin. He kissed like a man who knew exactly what he was doing, like a man who had never once questioned himself.

 

But as his hands mapped her body, she couldn’t stop her mind from wandering. With every kiss meant to ignite her, she found herself longing for lips that knew her better. With every whispered compliment, she ached for words that carried the weight of understanding. Jack was everything she should have wanted—charismatic, attractive, and uncomplicated.

 

But he wasn’t him .

 

That thought clung to her like a shadow, even as Jack slept beside her in the early hours of the morning. She stared at the ceiling, the high of something new leaving behind a hollow ache she couldn’t shake. She had invited Jack in, hoping to fill a void she didn’t fully understand. But now, in the quiet aftermath, all she felt was the absence of someone else.

 

At first, their relationship was casual—a convenient answer to loneliness. No apocalyptic scenarios, no life-or-death missions, no past tragedies weighing them down. He was simple. Claire wanted so badly for simple to be enough.

 

Then there were the times when she truly needed him—when the memories became too vivid, or the voices were too loud. Jack was there, but never cared too much for being involved. 

 

And yet, she stayed.

 

Because Jack was there, even if only halfway. And in her weakest moments, she convinced herself that halfway was better than nothing at all. Jack didn't see her. He saw what she let him see, and that was all he wanted. He wasn't the type of person she'd ever want to build a future with, but she'd never planned to. 

 

And so, she stayed. Until she couldn’t. 

 

March 11th - Present day 

 

Claire lay awake on her bed, staring at the patterns cast by the moonlight on her ceiling. Another sleepless night, another headache pulsing through her skull. Eleven weeks down, twenty-nine more to go.  

 

Her body had changed faster than her mind could keep up. The smallest of changes reminded her it was real, even if it still felt like a dream she wasn’t sure she deserved.  Her hand rested instinctively on her stomach, a habit she hadn’t quite come to terms with yet. It still felt foreign– something she was watching from the outside but never fully allowed herself to claim.

 

Then there were moments—quiet, fleeting moments—when the idea didn’t seem so terrifying. When she imagined holding her child for the first time, she felt something stir in her. It wasn’t quite peace, but it was close.

 

With a deep breath, she pushed herself upright, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. The ache in her head didn’t lessen, but at least moving gave her something to focus on. She padded to the kitchen, filling a glass of water and leaning against the counter as she sipped.

 

But her mind was elsewhere, not surprisingly. Thoughts ran a mile a minute but she felt like a collection of skin and bones. Nothing more. Nothing less.

 

Life waited for no one. Emails flooded her inbox, ranging from possible sponsorships to attached files of yet another community left barren by an outbreak. There was no need to look at them so late, but her body had already denied her the privilege of sleep. Hours passed as she replied to endless strings of people either asking for her help or assuming she was stupid– the bliss of corporate life. 

 

Now more than ever, work provided a distraction she craved. People relying on her; who depended on what she did. People she was responsible for. 

 

People. People. Kids. People. Kids. People dying. A hand going limp against hers. Kids. Kids crying for their mother. Kids crying. Babies. Babies crying. Babies. Mothers. Babies. Mothers. Babies. Mothers. Her baby. 

 

Her gasp was sharp when she came back to her senses, and her cheek was marked by the outline of her hand. Of course, she'd fallen asleep. 

 

1:53. That's the hour her phone marked. She should've been asleep hours ago. It was one of the first things they'd told her– sleep enough, eat enough, and stress less. She was already failing at all three of them. 

 

There was something that surprised her more than the late hour however. Three missed calls. Had they been from Chris or Jill her heart would have already dropped– but Leon had always reached out at strange hours, though he had not done so in months.

 

She checked her voicemail, and wasn't all too surprised at hearing his voice– neither was she surprised at hearing the slight slur in his words. Angry, maybe. Disappointed, even. But not surprised. 

 

“Hey, Claire,” his voice was unsteady. “It’s me. I just… I was hoping to hear your voice and… I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For last week, for… I shouldn’t have kissed you. I wanted to. I just… I’m sorry.”

 

---

 

Leon stood there, his hair disheveled and his eyes glassy, and even through the haze of alcohol, he was acutely aware of her presence. He froze, his body recognizing her before his mind could catch up, and he stared for a moment longer than he should have.

 

“Claire,” he breathed, his voice laced with surprise and guilt. He avoided her eyes, the weight of his earlier words clearly sinking in.

 

She didn’t bother waiting for him to figure out what to say. Stepping past him into the apartment, she made the decision for both of them—they weren’t delaying this conversation. The door clicked shut behind her as Leon lingered awkwardly in place. His shoulders were tense, his steps hesitant as he followed her into the living room. He could hide his regret from anyone, but not her. 

 

His place smelled faintly of coffee, whiskey, and leather, just how she remembered. It brought her back to many years ago, when she'd started working for TerraSave and was asked to move to the capital. Her and Leon had been just friends back then, and ever the gentleman he was, he'd offered her a key to his place, an open invitation to stay while she found a place of her own. She’d taken him up on the offer—not just because apartment hunting had been harder than she expected, but  because she'd grown undeniably used to his company– craved it, even. And the lingering glances and fleeting touches had turned into much more.

 

“I got your message,” she said after a moment, leaning against the counter. 

 

Leon winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I'm sorry, I-...”

 

“You were drunk,” she cut in, her voice sharper than she intended.

 

He swallowed hard, suddenly small under her burning gaze. “I didn't mean to drag you into it,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t want to make things harder for you.”

 

“So you decide to tell me that at two in the morning?” she asked, her sharpness watered down by the genuine regret in his eyes. 

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but it didn't reach her eyes. “Should've just let you wallow by yourself.” 

 

His chuckle came hesitant, uncertain of how much of it was a joke and how much it was an honest statement. It was true though– he didn't deserve her presence. “I didn't think you'd come. Hell, I didn't even think you’d answer.”

 

Claire tilted her head, arms crossed as she studied him. “You're still drunk, aren't you?”

 

“I'm not–” he stopped, “Just a little.”

 

“Leon,” she sighed, stepping closer.

 

“I'll sober up,” he said, like that was the solution to everything. “I'll take a shower– maybe just some coffee–”

 

“Oh, shut up. I'm not here to mothe–,” she cut herself off, opting for another word. “I'm not here to lecture you.” 

 

“You're not?”

 

“I should, but-... no.” She sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. She didn't entirely understand why she'd come. Perhaps, because she understood that his drunk call had been a cry for help that she happened to be on the receiving end of. And she was so, so, so lonely. 

 

“Can't really blame you for drinking. I would if I could,” she said with a wry smile. And perhaps that's why she'd come. The vices that had once provided solace had slipped away. So no, she couldn’t have a cigarette, couldn't drown her thoughts with vodka, but she’d allow herself to have Leon, no matter how unexpected his return to her life had been. 

 

Her words carried a weight Leon couldn’t ignore, and for once, he didn’t try to brush it off with some half-hearted joke. He stayed quiet, his gaze flickering to her face as she sat there, trying to make sense of the whirlwind that had brought them both here.

 

“It’s not a regular thing,” he offered after a moment, his voice low, almost tentative. “Drinking like that, I mean. It was just… a weird day.”

 

Claire didn’t reply right away, but her expression softened slightly. She wasn’t asking for explanations, yet he kept giving them anyway. He wasn’t sure if it was to make himself feel better or to make her stay a little longer. Either way, the words came. There was truth to everything he'd said that night. He was happy to see her. He was sorry for kissing her. 

 

And he was even more sorry for calling her. One glass in and he'd been thinking of her. Two and the sound of her laughter echoed in every corner of his mind. By the third one he could almost make out the feel of her hands against his skin. When his thoughts had gone to places he'd be ashamed to say out loud, he drank glass after glass until his hands dialed her number faster than his brain could tell him not to. 

 

Claire, for her part, was scanning the room like it held the answer of the pieces of him she'd missed in the months they'd been apart. Or maybe she was just avoiding his gaze. 

 

Then, abruptly, she spoke. “Why don't you show me the dog?” 

 

He blinked. “The dog? Oh, yeah. Sure. Hold on.”

 

It took him a moment to gather himself, but then he stood up, almost a little too quickly, and made his way down the hall. Claire followed, her curiosity piqued despite herself. He slid open the back door and stepped into the yard, whistling softly to call the dog.

 

A few seconds later, an old-looking german shepherd stepped through the threshold, ears perked and tail wagging. Leon's presence was ignored, overshadowed by the guest. 

 

Claire knelt down as the dog approached, its warm brown eyes studying her with a keen but friendly curiosity. She extended her hand slowly, waiting for the dog to make the first move. Rex sniffed her fingers, his nose brushing lightly against her palm before he leaned in, letting out a low, contented grunt as if he’d decided she was okay.

 

"Hey there, big guy," she murmured softly, her voice gentle as she stroked his fur. The dog gave a small wag of his tail in approval, almost like he was giving her a welcome of his own.

 

Leon glanced at Rex, who was now sitting obediently at Claire’s side, staring up at her with adoration. “Traitor,” he muttered, though his lips twitched with a faint smile as he leaned against the doorframe.

 

Claire glanced up at him, grinning. “You're just jealous he likes me better.”

 

“Give it a week,” Leon replied. “You're new. I'm the one who feeds him.”

 

“Well, I think he's officially my favorite thing about you.” 

 

“Is he now?” he asked with a smirk. “Figures. He's got more charm than I do.”

 

Claire laughed, making him a little drunk again. “Well, don't sell yourself short now. Nothing more charming than drunk calling.”

 

His smile faltered for just a second before it returned, a little more genuine this time. He pushed off the doorframe, leaning down just enough to pat the dog's head. “Not my proudest moment.” He extended a hand down to Claire and nodded for them to head back inside. 

 

She took his hand, using it to lift herself up. “Not the most romantic way to get someone's attention,” she teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “But I guess it worked.”

 

“You're here, aren't you?”

Claire’s smile softened, though there was still a trace of playful deflection in her eyes. Without warning, she leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Her lips lingered for just a moment longer than expected, before she pulled away, her expression unreadable for a heartbeat.

“You’re an idiot,” she murmured, but there was no real heat in her words.

Leon looked at her, his mouth opening as if to say something more, but he stopped himself. “You should get some sleep,” he said, a little too quickly, as if he could sense the tension building. “It’s late, and I— I don’t want you driving back home at this hour.”

 

She tilted her head, her expression amused. “Fair enough.”

 

“You can take my bed. I'll crash on the couch.”

 

“How chivalrous,” she replied with a chuckle. But she didn't argue. 

 

“Goodnight, Leon.” She gave him one last look over her shoulder before making her way down the hall toward his bedroom.

 

“Goodnight, Claire.”

 

Leon watched her go, feeling a mix of emotions welling up inside him– relief, guilt, confusion, but also a quiet contentment that had been missing from his life for longer than he wanted to admit. 

 

A few moments later, he sank down on the couch, though the bed seemed more appealing. The space next to her was warm, empty and it didn't feel quite right to be alone, but he knew better than to push things too quickly. For now, it was just enough to be near her. 

 

He collapsed onto the couch, staring at the ceiling and replaying the night. Shame for the way he'd called her, but glad that she'd showed up anyway. She'd kissed his cheek. And now she was laying on his sheets. Inevitably, his mind wondered, what it would feel like to have her in his arms again. 

 

Claire lay in his bed, surrounded by his presence but too far. She'd come here because she'd been lonely. But now, the emptiness tugged at her from the inside. She tossed and turned for a while, not sure what she was waiting for. Something about seeing him– knowing it was her on his mind when the alcohol made him hazy… 

 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she stood up from the bed and walked to the living room, where Leon lay, half-conscious, staring at the emptiness.

 

“Leon?”

 

He turned his head towards her, squinting in the dim light. For a moment she seemed almost unsure of herself. “Yeah?” 

 

“Come to bed. Couch won't do you any favors.”

 

“What?” he blinked, unsure if he'd heard her right. 

 

“You heard me,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice now. “You'll be hungover enough, don't need an aching back on top of that. Just… come here.”

 

He hesitated for a long moment, staring at the hallway like it was some kind of trap. But then he stood up and followed her to his room. When he appeared in the doorway, Claire shifted over to make room.

 

“I won't bite,” she teased, though her heart was pounding in her chest. 

 

A half-smile grazed his face as he slid into the bed beside her. The silence was charged but it was not uncomfortable.

 

“I don't even know why you're here,” Leon murmured after a beat, voice barely audible. 

 

Claire turned her head to look at him, her expression exasperatedly fond. “Because you showed up when I called,” she said simply.

 

“That's different.”

 

“Is it?” she challenged. 

 

“You were in real trouble, I was just being stupid.”

 

A soft hum left her lips. “Maybe a little.”

 

His eyes met hers in the dim light. “I missed you,” he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice making her chest ache.

 

Claire tilted her head towards him, her hand resting gently on his chest. She didn't respond right away. Her other hand brushed against his cheek before cupping it gently. She leaned in, her lips finding his in a kiss much more intentional than the last one had been. 

 

His hand hovered against her, settling cautiously on the small of her back as if asking permission to stay longer. When she pressed herself closer, he kissed her like he'd never get to do it again. Not hungrily, but like he'd have all the time in the world to memorize her again. 

 

There were no interruptions, no second thoughts. 

 

When they finally broke apart, it was unhurried, and the space between them was barely enough to be called distance.  

 

“I thought I had it figured out, y'know?” she whispered, her hand lingering over his heart, her thumb brushing against his chest as though she could calm the rhythm she’d quickened. 

 

“What do you mean?” he asked softly, his gaze locked on her, unwilling to look away.

 

“You. Us,” she sighed, her breath hitching slightly. “I thought it wasn’t supposed to matter anymore. I convinced myself I could move on—” she let out a bitter chuckle, her gaze flickering down as if she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “And I guess I did. Sort of.”

 

Leon's brow furrowed as he studied her face. She was still the same woman he loved, still as complicated, still as selfless, and she had changed in ways she hadn't even realized. Getting her to open up had been a nearly impossible task before. But now, each time he saw her, confessions spilled out of her like water from a vase that'd been overflowing for too long. 

 

He'd never been the best with words– neither had she, for that matter. And even though each ache she revealed settled on his heart like they were his burdens to bear too, he wanted to listen to everything she had to say. Everything she'd been keeping to herself for so long. 

 

“I always hoped you would,” he said finally, his voice thick with sincerity. “Move on, I mean.” 

 

She let out a shaky breath, her lips quirking in a faint, humorless smile. “It's never that easy, though, is it?”

 

He was silent for a moment, his hand shifting to her shoulder, his fingers brushing against her skin in a quiet reassurance. “Was he good to you? Ever?” he asked, though he didn't really want to know the answer. Jack's final actions to her had been enough to make all his possible good moments irrelevant. 

 

Claire let out a shaky breath, her hand instinctively moving to the small swell of her stomach. “For a while,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with regret. “He was… just enough. Just enough to keep him around.” Her eyes dropped to her hand, her fingers brushing gently over the faint curve beneath her shirt. “But I never planned to have…any reason for him to think of coming back.”

 

“He won't come back.”

 

She turned around with a sigh, laying her head on his hand and closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them she was met with his gaze, as intense as she always remembered it. He wasn’t twenty one anymore,  hadn’t been for a while. And she definitely wasn’t nineteen. And yet, looking into his eyes, it felt like no time had passed at all.

 

A huff of laughter escaped her lips as she instinctively moved closer, his fingers never leaving her scalp. “You'll make sure of it?”

 

“If you ask me to,” he replied with a smile, the playfulness in his words betraying the seriousness behind them.

 

Claire shook her head, a fond, almost bittersweet expression crossing her face. "Don't sound so eager."

 

“Yes, ma'am,” he said with a teasing grin, squeezing her shoulder lightly. "You should sleep. I've kept you up long enough."

 

“Good idea.” She glanced up at him, and then, as if fully on sync again, their lips met, a quiet promise that, whatever this was, they would figure it out.

 

“Goodnight, Claire,” Leon whispered.

 

“Goodnight,” she replied as her head found its place against his chest.

 

Notes:

A short chapter but one of my favorites tbh. Title is from "it will come back" by Hozier.

I love them so much ughhh, they make me so emo. I really enjoyed writing how Claire and Jack met. Anytime I write an original character I have to give them a fancast. Which leads me to a question I wanted to ask anyone who wants to answer me... How do you picture Jack? I know who I picture him as, but I left his appearance vague on purpose so you can imagine him however makes more sense to you. But I am curious. Anyway I'll hush now.

I will post the next chapter on Thursday to make up for the wait, and then I'll lock in and go back to posting on Sundays.

Chapter 5: And your dearest fantasy...

Summary:

The band gets together for Claire's birthday (inc. Sherry)

Notes:

My first advice to fanfic readers? Never trust an author's words when they promise to post on a certain day.

My first advice to authors? Don't make any promises despite how confident you are in your ability to post on time.

Sorry for the delay guys :( Hopefully I make it up to you with this chapter (which took me so long to write cause I was so nervous doing, so...) >__<

March 25th, 2009 

Thirty years. The number felt like a weight on her back, heavy with experience, but also the wonder of how she'd even survived so long. Every birthday after her nineteenth had changed meaning in a way that scared her– now more than ever– morphing from a celebration into a quiet marker of survival.

 

Birthdays used to mean something simpler. Growing older, counting candles, and reliving memories. But after Raccoon City, that illusion was gone. Death wasn’t a distant concept—it was as close as the air she breathed. Now, Claire had come to view death the same way she viewed the ocean: she wouldn’t fear it, but she would also never underestimate it. 

 

She couldn’t even recall her tenth birthday, just fragments of childhood too far removed to matter. By her twentieth, the nightmares were so consuming that any thought of a party felt absurd. She never imagined reaching thirty, let alone celebrating it. Let alone with a baby on the way.

 

But here she was.

 

Claire didn’t want a party. She didn’t want to pretend that she was the same person she used to be. That carefree, wild version of herself felt like a ghost— a relic of someone else’s life. But the milestone felt too significant to let it pass unmarked.

 

Sherry had been the one to insist. And, besides Claire's usual inability to deny her, the girl wasn't aware of why she would say no. “We’ll keep it small,” Jill  had reassured her. “Just you, me, Chris, Leon, and Sherry. No big deal. I'll make sure she doesn't go overboard.” And so, Claire agreed, because she did want to see them.

 

But if the last twelve weeks had taught her anything, it was how unpredictable her days had become. Some mornings she felt like herself. Others, getting out of bed felt like an impossible task. And of course, because things were rarely allowed to go her way, it was one of those days. 

 

Leon had woken up beside her, because “no one should wake up alone on their birthday.” Though it wasn't the first time he'd stayed over in recent days, and it wouldn't be the last. They shared a bed, but sleeping together was a boundary they knew they couldn't come back from. He'd brought her breakfast, and he'd held her hair back when she threw it up. Nothing seemed more tempting than staying in bed, but of course… her birthday had to land on a wednesday. 

 

She’d freshened up and she’d gone about her day without any expectations, and sheer willpower to get through all the hollow birthday wishes and congratulations. Only the knowledge that she'd see Sherry after so long served as a motivation to get through the day. 

 

And, just like he'd promised, there he was, waiting for her outside the TerraSave building. Claire walked down the stairs, regaining her footing now that her evening had somewhat of a purpose. She got into the car, sighing with a mixture of relief and tiredness. 

 

His eyes told a different story, ever attuned to her movements. She turned her head against the headrest to look at him, a smile slowly growing as he leaned in to kiss her. It was strange. It was familiar. Equal parts exciting as it was terrifying. But it was so natural she couldn't stop to think about it.

 

“How was work?”

 

“Nobody knows how to do their job.” Claire scoffed, rubbing her tired eyes. “God, this kid's already draining every bit of patience I have left.”

 

“Are you sure you feel up to it?” he asked, his hand gently squeezing her thigh. 

 

The opportunity to bail didn't go unconsidered, but getting all of them in the same room was so difficult that even if she'd wanted to she wouldn't have had the heart to do so. “Not entirely,” she admitted, “but I do wanna see them.”

 

Leon hummed in understanding, ready to go with her to Jill’s or ready to take her home. “Well, I know Sherry's dying to see you.” 

 

Being surrounded by them would cheer her up, he was sure, so he was glad she looked a bit better when he mentioned Sherry. 

 

“You think I should tell her today?”

 

Leon turned the key, bringing the heater to life as he considered her question. “I’d love to say you should do it when you’re ready,” he said carefully. “But if you want to tell her in person… none of us really knows when that’ll happen again.”

 

Silence hung over them for a few seconds, ringing like regret and a sense of worry that had never quite gone away.  Claire's jaw tensed almost unnoticeable, which prompted him to shift the conversation elsewhere.

 

“She’ll have questions,” he murmured. Though ‘questions’ didn’t quite cover it. Sherry wouldn’t ask if she thought it was overstepping, but she'd make her own conclusions based on what she saw– or maybe on what she hoped was true.

 

Claire’s lips twitched faintly. “Does she know you’ll be there?”

 

“Yeah.” Leon exhaled a short laugh. “She tried to subtly find out if I was invited. Asked if we were on speaking terms again.”

 

That sounded like Sherry. “And what’d you say?”

 

A trick question if he'd ever heard one. If her words weren't enough, the challenge in her eyebrow settled it, but his gaze was unwavering. 

 

“I told her what she wanted to hear."

 

Claire smirked. “And what was that?”

 

“That we're fine.”

 

“Yeah,” She gave his handd a gentle squeeze, satisfied with his answer. “I guess we are.”

 

As Leon pulled out of the parking lot, Claire thought about just how unaware Sherry was of how fine they truly were. As far as she was concerned, Jack was still Claire’s boyfriend, and Leon had only seen her again on New Year’s. And of course, no idea about any baby.

 

The blossoming trees along the streets greeted her as she looked out the window. Maybe it wasn't such a bad day after all. Streets were fairly empty, so within the next thirty minutes they were inside Jill's building. 

 

As the elevator went up, Claire closed her eyes and leaned against the metal surface, the daily repertoire of thoughts circling her mind.

 

“You feeling ok?” 

 

The hand he placed on her back cued her to open her eyes, and even through the exhaustion and lingering lightheadedness, her smile was true. 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Jill's floor came about, and the door's opened to the hallway. Claire stuck closely to his side, not lost on her that the last time she'd been here it'd been with Jack. 

 

They walked down the hallway, his hand guiding her through the familiar place.  “I feel like I'm turning sixty,” she joked as she knocked on Jill's front door. 

 

“Well, you don't look a day over thirty.” And oh how Claire wanted to kiss that smirk off his face.

 

“You think you're so funny.” But her face betrayed her, she had always found him hilarious. 

 

His response died on his lips as the door flung open, revealing the beaming faces of Jill, Chris and Sherry. As expected, the girl was the first to greet them, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around Claire as soon as she was inside. 

 

“Happy birthday, Claire!” Claire chuckled, hugging her back with equal warmth.

 

“Thank you, hon,” Claire said, holding on until Sherry pulled away. The blonde moved on to hug Leon, and Claire was met with Chris. 

 

“Happy birthday,” he said with a soft smile.

 

His hug was gentler, and she could feel the weight of his concern, the way he tiptoed around her these days. It drove her crazy as much as it brought out affection, and she could never blame him for worrying… that day marked thirty years since he was named her protector.  

 

“Thanks, Chris.”

 

When they broke apart, Jill stepped forward. “Claire,” she said, hugging her more firmly than Chris had. “Thirty suits you.”

 

“Right, don't remind me,” she answered with a soft smile. 

 

Jill squeezed her shoulder, asking her silently if she was okay. Claire nodded almost imperceptibly, grateful for her quiet support but not wanting to get into detail of how she was really feeling. 

 

As Sherry helped Leon unpack some of the food bags, her voice carried over cheerfully. “I brought you your favorite,” she said, pulling out a bottle of tequila. “Thought we could have a little celebration.”

 

Claire raised her eyebrows, frozen for a second before chuckling, perhaps a little nervously, but she did appreciate the gesture. “You know me so well,” she said, because yes, it was her favorite. She'd store it away and save it for a time she could enjoy it again, maybe her fortieth— if she was lucky. “I think I'll save it though, work is enough without being hungover.”

 

The other three nodded, knowing full well they'd all done so multiple times, but knowing that wasn't the reason Claire said no. 

 

They moved to the table, where conversation flowed easily. Out of sight, Claire's hand found Leon's as she heard Jill tell the story of when she'd first met her– a fiery fourteen year old who followed her brother around military camps like a lost puppy.

 

“...and then when they caught her she told this guy– who was, by the way, a full-ass soldier– that yes, her brother was in S.T.A.R.S, and yes, he had asked her to go to the restricted area.”

 

Claire grinned at the memory, not recalling it with the same detail Jill and Chris did, but nostalgic all the same. And while Leon and Sherry were completely captivated by the story, Chris was less amused, still remembering the scolding he'd gotten after.

 

“Yeah, I remember that…” he groaned, but there was no real heat in his eyes. “God, mom was so mad at me.” He shook his head, a fond smile on his lips.

 

The mention of their mother brought a bittersweet pang to Claire’s chest. It had taken a long time to be able to talk about their parents without the grief threatening to swallow her whole. But tonight, she managed, even if her parents’ absence felt especially heavy lately. She felt the soft squeeze of her hand and briefly looked at Leon, smiling softly because despite her uneasiness, she was doing better. “Your fault entirely.”

 

“Just be glad I was there to save your ass,” Jill replied, not missing a beat. 

 

She had always been observant. Years of training, maybe. Or maybe because every time she'd overlooked what her gut had said, things had gone wrong. Survival instincts she couldn't turn off.

 

She watched all of them like a hawk, although from the outside it looked like a normal gaze. It didn't really surprise her, the ease with which Claire and Leon had fallen back together. His hand on her back, the subtle glances, the fact that they'd arrived and would probably leave together. She wouldn't question it, it wasn't her place– she also wouldn't pretend that she understood it. But Claire was happy– as much as the situation allowed. 

 

Then her focus drifted then to Sherry, whose eyes carried a question that danced on the tip of her tongue. The girl was respectful, mature beyond her years; would never ask something she feared would make them uncomfortable, but Jill knew she wondered why Jack wasn't there and Leon was— not that she was complaining in the slightest. Sherry was 22 now, but Jill knew how hard Leon and Claire had tried to protect the small bit of childhood she had left when they'd met her, and it was a habit that still ran deep for both of them.

 

So, Jill knew that Claire had taken so long to tell Sherry, not because she wasn't excited about the baby, but because it would mean acknowledging that she was scared. Claire was strong, even if proud beyond measure. She could admit that she was scared to Jill, to Leon, to Chris– but she couldn't admit it to Sherry; the same way Chris couldn't admit it to her.

 

Redfields and their need to hide their pain from the people who loved them most. 

 

Claire, for her part, let herself be so relaxed in their presence, that the idea of telling Sherry not only seemed good, it wouldn't leave her mind. She squeezed Leon's hand before pulling away, standing up from the table with a soft sigh. “Hey, Sherry,” she blurted out, “can you help me out with something in the kitchen?”

 

“Sure,” the blonde replied without hesitation, her face lighting up with the same spark whenever Claire asked her for help. The two women made their way to the kitchen, leaving Jill, Chris, and Leon to discuss other matters. 

 

The kitchen was dimly lit, the overhead light casting a soft glow as Claire leaned against the counter, gathering her thoughts. 

 

“So… what'd you need help with?” 

 

“That was just an excuse so we could talk,” she explained.

 

“Oh? What about?” 

 

Claire smiled faintly, glancing towards the doorway where she could hear the low hum of voices from the other room. Then she looked back at Sherry, looking a bit more vulnerable. “I've been meaning to tell you something… But the- the time was never right, but I think it is today.”

 

“Everything okay?” Sherry asked, stepping a little closer.

 

“Yeah, I mean… yes. It's just…” she drew strength from the mere thought of Leon sitting out there, of how supportive Chris and Jill had been— Sherry would be no exception. 

 

It had become a habit without realizing it, her hand against her abdomen. “I'm pregnant.”

 

Sherry blinked, her eyes flickering from Claire's face to her hand, and then back again. “For real?” 

 

She nodded, not able to speak past the lump on her throat. Sherry gasped, followed by the happiest and most genuine smile Claire had seen all night. “Oh my God,” she breathed, wrapping her arms around Claire before she could even react.

 

Claire laughed a real, unguarded laugh as she hugged Sherry back. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. Not of fear, not of sadness. It was the first time she shared the news with excitement. 

 

“When were you going to tell me?” Sherry asked, pulling back slightly, her eyes bright with emotion. 

 

Claire wiped at the corner of her eye, chuckling softly. “I wasn't sure how. I didn't want to… I don't know, make it a big thing.”

 

“It is a big thing.”

 

That was undeniable. Claire's life wasn't the only one that would change because of it, something that reassured her and scared her at the same time. Still, she smiled. Sherry was right, and Claire knew it was time to let herself claim it. It wasn't just something happening to her– she'd chosen it, stress and all. “Yeah. It is.”

 

Sherry looked at her for a second, a million different questions building up, but she didn't want to overwhelm a woman that clearly had a lot on her mind. So she settled for the only question that really mattered. “And you're okay? I mean… you're okay?”

 

It took very little to make Claire want to cry these days, but it was hard not to. Sherry's question was out of worry, but Claire knew it ran deeper. She was asking for permission to be excited, for reassurance that they were the good news she had already taken them for. 

 

“I'm okay,” Claire reassured. She didn't have it all figured out, but at that moment there was only love in her uncertainty.   

 

“Tequila was a miss then?” Sherry nudged her playfully.

 

Claire chuckled, shaking her head. “Just a little.”

 

She grabbed a glass, filling it with water before sitting down on one of the high stools. The weight was off her shoulders, but she knew Sherry still had questions.

 

"You can ask about it," she said, her tone inviting. “I won't break if you do.”

 

Sherry took a seat next to her, considering where to start. “When are you due?”

 

“Early October,” Claire replied, her lips curling slightly because she knew that wasn’t the real question Sherry wanted to ask.

 

Sherry made a mental note of it, pursing her lips before speaking again. “Do you know what you're having?”

 

Claire shook her head. “It's too early to tell.”

 

There was a beat of silence, filled with the unspoken. Finally, Sherry cleared her throat softly. “Um… so are you—?” She trailed off, her expression apologetic even as curiosity tugged at her words. “Are you guys back together?”

 

Claire smiled softly, unsurprised. She took a sip of water, letting the coolness settle her nerves before answering. Were they back together? “It's complicated…” 

 

Sure, there were late night calls, an extra toothbrush on her sink. She could go out into the living room and kiss him and he'd just wrap his arms around her like it was second nature. But when she consciously made an effort to look into the future that was slowly creeping up to her, seeing him there felt like an imposition, a fantasy born from her own wishful thinking rather than any evidence suggesting he was in for the long run. “Baby isn't his if that's what you're asking.”

Sherry’s eyebrows lifted slightly—not in judgment, just surprise. “Oh. I didn’t—uh—sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.”

 

“It’s okay,” Claire reassured her with a small laugh, not offended in the slightest. “You wouldn’t be the first to think that.”

 

She expected the assumption from Sherry, and even if she did find it amusing, she couldn't ignore the small twist it caused in her heart to deny it. It was still messy, but it was no longer suffocating. It just was. 

 

“He's been really great,” she added. He had been, from the moment he'd answered her call. Great enough that the thought of losing him again became more unbearable each day that went by.

 

“You deserve it.” Sherry smiled at that, leaning forward with her elbows on the counter. “And for what it's worth it, I think you'll be a great mom, Claire.”

 

That was what undid her– the simple, unwavering trust in Sherry's voice. Claire returned her warmth, squeezing her hand. “Thank you, Sherry.”

 

“Ready to head back?” Sherry asked, sliding off the stool.

 

Claire nodded, standing up and taking one last sip of water. But before they left the kitchen, she reached out, pulling Sherry into one more quick hug. Just because she could.

 

“Thanks,” she murmured.

 

Sherry hugged her back just as tightly. “Anytime.”

 

They stepped back into the living room, where the laughter had died down to quieter conversation. Leon’s eyes met Claire’s immediately, searching, steady. She gave him a small nod, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

 

And everything felt a little more right.

 

“Alright,” Claire announced as she slid back into her seat beside Leon. “Secret's out, you can all stop looking so suspicious.”

 

Leon's lips curved into a subtle smile as Claire settled beside him, his hand moving mindlessly around her shoulders as she leaned against his side, not unnoticed by the others but not mentioned either.

 

“Well, in that case…” Chris said, standing up and grabbing a gift bag from the counter. Claire raised an eyebrow. She would never call her brother careless, but they'd never been the gift-giving type. 

 

“Alright,” She accepted, shooting a questioning look at Jill, who merely shrugged. Leon leaned back slightly, giving Claire space as she eyed the packaging.

 

“The suspense is killing me,” she teased, though there was genuine amusement in her voice.

 

 She pulled the tissue paper aside, her brow furrowing as her fingers closed around what felt like a book. Pulling it out she revealed a small photo album, a picture from probably her first day of school adorning the cover.

 

Claire's lip parted, a soft gasp escaping her as recognition washed over her. “W-where?” she managed to ask, her voice catching in her throat. “where'd you get this?”

 

Chris smiled, satisfied with her reaction. “I was looking through some of mom's old things. I know you're not much for gifts, but- it felt fitting.”

 

Her throat tightened, the emotions swirling too fast to name. She looked at her brother, her voice shaky. “Thank you.”

 

“Happy birthday, Claire.”

 

The edges of the album were worn, but it was otherwise standing. Claire ran her fingers along the pages, flicking through them carefully. A lifetime worth of memories. Her mother, her beautiful mother, staring back at her like no time had passed at all. 

 

Jill and Sherry had gone back to talking, moved by Claire's reaction but not wanting to crowd her. Chris sat down across from her, watching her as she looked at the pictures he'd already gone through. 

 

 Leon's eyes were on her too, content to let her have this moment. There was something about the moment, a quiet gratefulness that she shared this part of her with him again, but stunningly new. 

 

Claire looked at Chris, then back at Leon, and suddenly she couldn't stop the tears that welled in her eyes. She wiped them with the back of her hand, looking down at a picture dated exactly thirty years back; a beautiful auburn haired woman and a sleeping newborn. For the first time in years, she truly saw it, how much she had grown into her mother’s features, the resemblance undeniable. 

 

Looking into the picture brought a chilling realization— it was a glimpse to her past as much as it was a glimpse to her future.

 

“God, I miss her so much,” she said softly, a mix of a chuckle and a sob escaping her lips. Leon didn't say anything; the moment was between her and Chris, but when she reached for his hand, he took it without hesitation. 

 

“I know,” Chris replied, his own voice more emotional than usual. “I do too. Every day.”

 

They stayed like that for a moment, the room quiet except for Claire's occasional sniffle. Her fingers lingered on the last page. Jill moved to her side, smiling as she skimmed through the pages to find the version of Claire she'd first met and just told stories about. 

 

And Claire was tired of crying. So when Jill and Sherry seemed entranced by the book, she leaned back and let them have a look at it, occasionally sharing a story to go along the moment.

 

“Oh my god, Chris—...” Jill burst out suddenly, holding up a picture of a much younger Chris in some very questionable late 80's fashion. 

 

Claire lifted her head from Leon's shoulder to get a better look at the picture. It was a classic, the brother she'd known before he'd flown away to the army. 

 

“What the hell was that, man?” Jill laughed, holding the picture out to Chris, who simply groaned. 

 

“Very New Kids on the Block from you,” Leon added, his voice light with amusement as he looked at the picture, but his real joy came from the way Claire laughed against his shoulder.

 

“That's rich coming from you, Backstreet Boy,” Chris retorted, glaring at all of them with no real heat.

 

That got a round of laughter from everyone, even Leon, who chuckled and let out a dramatic sigh.

 

“Jesus, just stop with the old references,” Sherry chimed in, leaning back in her chair with a playful grin. “You all make me feel so young.”

 

“Oh, rub it in, why don’t you?” Leon grinned back.

 

The evening wore on, full of laughter. It filled Claire's chest with a feeling she couldn't really name, but she wished she could bottle it and get drunk in it.

Jill stood up from the couch suddenly, her movements purposeful. “Alright, alright. Let’s not forget this is still a birthday,” she said, glancing at the table with a sly smile. “Sit down, all of you.”

 

The group looked at her, confused, before Jill nodded toward the kitchen. “Sit. Now.”

 

Without protest, they all moved to the table, Claire with a raised eyebrow at the unexpected command. Moments later, Jill returned from the kitchen, carrying a cake with thirty flickering candles.

 

Claire huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “You really didn't have to, Jill.”

 

Jill grinned, setting the cake down in front of Claire. “Too late. Make a wish, birthday girl.”

 

Happy birthday was sung comically unsynced, which made Claire all the more fond about it. Her mother had always said to her and Chris that whatever age you were turning was the amount of wishes you got. And so, Claire's first twenty nine wishes were for the child she grew more prepared to love each day. And her last wish, for herself. Peace. Not the kind that came with boring– she'd asked for that once– but the kind of peace that came with acceptance. 

 

With that, she closed her eyes for a moment, her wishes already made in the quiet of her heart. Then, with a smile, she blew out the candles. 

 

The cake was gone in no time, accompanied by laughter and never ending stories. By ten pm they started saying goodbyes, because Chris and Jill had an early morning the next day. 

 

Sherry yawned, bidding Jill goodbye. “Better get going, it's a long way to the airport.”

 

“You take care of yourself, kid.” 

 

“Wait, Sher–” Claire squeezed the girl's arm. “Are you heading out tonight?”

 

Sherry nodded with a sigh. “Yeah, I was hoping I could stay longer, but y'know how it is.”

 

“Well, at least let us drive you back,” Leon offered. 

 

“You sure? You guys aren't too tired?”

 

Claire waved a hand in dismissal. “I've stayed up later for less important stuff. C'mon, it'll ease our minds, hm?”

 

“Alright,” Sherry answered with a smile. Not only was the lift much safer than a taxi, it was also extra time with them. “Thanks.”

 

After saying goodbye to Chris, and waiting for Claire and Leon to do the same, the three of them headed out to the parking lot. Leon helped Sherry set her bags on the trunk, opening the passenger door for Claire before rounding the car and getting in the driver's seat. 

 

“So how long before you visit again?” Claire asked as her fingers moved to turn on the heater.

 

“Well, before early October, for sure.” 

 

Claire nodded, the smile on her face betraying the nervousness that such a long time might actually pass before they saw her again. She’d try talking to Simmons— it’d worked before.

 

Leon’s focus was on the road, although he echoed Claire’s feeling of helplessness. “How’s training going?” 

 

“It’s exhausting… but I really like it. Better than being stuck in a lab,” she muttered the last part, wanting to share it but not wanting them to dwell on it.

 

“Listen—” Claire turned her head to look at her, a steady promise in her eyes. “They ever make you go through that again and we’ll help you figure it out.”

 

Sherry nodded, although she was sure if there was something they could actually do… they would’ve done it years ago. “Thank you.”

 

Twenty minutes was all it took them to reach the airport, all of them used to catch up with Sherry.

 

Terminal C came into view, and after picking up her small suitcase, they were once again faced with goodbye. 

 

Leon was the first to hug her, patting her back and promising to visit as often as he could. “Call if you need anything.”

 

“I will,” she answered with a smile, moving on to hug Claire. “And you keep me updated, alright?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Claire offered her a reassuring expression, holding the blonde in her arms for a while longer than usual. 

 

Sherry sighed as she pulled back, looking between them a little sadly, but cheering herself up over the information she now knew. “Think I should go now.”

 

“Text us when you get there.” 

 

“I will.” She grabbed the handle of her suitcase, “you two get home safely.”

 

She walked away, offering them a small wave before heading inside and out of view.

 

Leon led Claire to the car again, keeping a steady hand on the small of her back. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

 

The route back to Claire’s was shorter than either of them expected. But then again, nothing in D.C was too far. He drove them back, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting over Claire's thigh– not possessive, not an urge, simply a comfort.

 

Claire unlocked the door to her place, stepping inside with Leon close behind. She tossed her keys onto the couch and shrugged off her jacket, peering over her shoulder to see Leon doing the same. 

 

“Are you gonna stay?” she asked, casual enough to mask the disappointment that would come if he said no. 

 

“Yeah.” His eyes met hers, sharing a familiar smile. It was a little infuriating if he thought about it too much. Old routines had been recovered so easily that having her halfway was a blessing as much as it was a curse. It was better than not having her at all, that was for sure.  

 

Claire stepped out of her shoes, her feet sinking gratefully into the soft carpet. Without overthinking it, she crossed the small space between them and wrapped her arms around his waist, her face settling into the crook of his neck.

 

Naturally, his arms wrapped around her, running alongside her back as he just took in the feeling of having her around. Claire tilted her head just enough to look up at him, her eyes finding his with the same burning desire. They wouldn't escape it tonight.

 

“Y'know,” Claire spoke, her voice warm against his jaw, purposefully hushed to not break the stillness. “Last time you brought me home from Jill's, this is more of what I had in mind.”

 

His laugh was a low rumble against her ear. “What, you've been thinking about this for three months?” Although he had no right to talk, he'd been thinking about this ever since he'd let her go. 

 

“Don't let it get to your head.” Her fingers absently traced along the hem of his shirt.

 

Tenderly, he cupped the side of her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. “Too late for that, I fear.” 

 

Claire didn't answer– not with words, anyway. Her hands tangled in his hair, bringing his face close enough to kiss him just like she used to. She'd had him before, more times than she could count, but she'd never been so starved.

 

His touch slid from her face down to her waist, then lower, gripping her hips as he walked her backwards until her legs hit the edge of the couch. They parted just enough to catch their breath, bodies so close they didn't know where one ended and the other one began. 

 

“I just hope I can live up to it,” he whispered against her ear, brushing back the strands of hair that fell onto her face.

 

She smiled against his lips, nodding and looking up through her lashes. “I know you can, you think I'd forget that?”

 

If the intensity of her eyes were enough to kill, he'd already be six feet under. But her fingers moved along his arm with a delicacy that made his breath hitch and his pulse quicken.  

 

He captured her mouth in another kiss, much more desperate. They had all the time in the world, but neither of them had the patience anymore. A soft groan left the back of her throat, melting every defense he might've had before. 

 

Without separating an inch, her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, her touch trembling slightly from the overwhelming ache of needing him in a way that scared her as much as it thrilled her. 

 

Leon caught her hands gently, halting her movements. She looked up at him, confused for a second, until she saw the same fire in his eyes.

 

“Claire, I—...” He struggled for the right words, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Are you sure?”

 

Claire silenced him with another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate. When she pulled back, her gaze was unwavering. “Not a doubt in my mind.”

 

That was all it took.

 

His hands found her thighs, lifting her effortlessly and lowering her onto the couch, their bodies aligning with practiced ease. Her hands resumed their path, skillfully unbuttoning his navy blue shirt and sliding it off his shoulders as his lips trailed a path along her neck.

 

All he heard against his ear was the soft sound of her breathing, how it hitched when his palm squeezed another part of her covered in clothing. 

 

Claire tugged him down with her, legs wrapping around his waist to keep him there. They broke apart only long enough to rid her of her shirt, Leon's hands trailing over her skin like his whole body was remembering her. 

 

“Leon?” she said, a little breathlessly, making him look up from her collarbone. 

 

“Hm?”

 

“Why don't we take this to bed?” Her hands pushed apart the hair from his face. 

 

He didn't need to be told twice. 

 

Leon stood, his hands gripping Claire's thighs as he lifted her up with ease, her legs still looped around him. She laughed softly against his neck, warm and breathy, her lips trailing over his jaw. 

 

They navigated the short hallway like that– him holding her, her fingers tangled in his hair, their mouths meeting in messy, breathless kisses between laughter and whispered curses when Leon's hip bumped into the doorframe. 

 

By the time he laid her down on the bed, the playfulness was still there, but it was outweighed by something much stronger, the anticipation of getting to have this again after so long. The dim light from the bedside lamp cast a soft glow over Claire's face, lingering on the curve of her lips, the freckles scattered like constellations across her skin. His fingers trailed down her arm, tracing the faint scars she carried– a survivor by her own right. 

 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, almost like it was a secret meant only for her.

 

Claire’s heart soared at the sincerity in his voice. No teasing, no sarcasm—just Leon, stripped bare in more ways than one. She cupped his face, pulling him down for another kiss. “Flattery gets you everywhere, hm.”

 

She guided one of his hands to the waistband of her jeans, which he expertly began unbuttoning as their lips remained clashing against each other’s.

 

Claire broke the kiss just long enough to breathe out, her voice low and ragged. “Been thinking about this… about you… longer than I should admit.”

 

Leon’s lips curled into a faint smile against her skin, his breath warm on her jaw as he moved to her neck. “Yeah?” he murmured, his voice husky, roughened by need. “I haven’t stopped.”

 

It was a familiar dance, engraved so deep inside their brains that falling back into it came as natural as breathing. Their remaining clothing pooled at the edge of the bed, until all that was left was their flushed skin against each other's. 

 

His hands slid into her hair, gently loosening it from its tie, letting it fall like silk around her shoulders. His fingers threaded through it, tugging softly as he kissed down her neck, across her collarbone, her breasts and lower, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. 

 

He kissed her inner thigh, looking up to confirm his actions were welcomed– that she was still sure. His head fell in the crook of her legs, his breath warm against her skin, and his finger traced along the inside of her leg.

 

A soft nod was all she managed, laced with trust, need, and the comfort of knowing exactly who she was with. Leon's lips curved into the faintest smile before he lowered his head again. Every touch, every movement was deliberate, patient in a way that drove her wild. The message was clear, he'd be there as long as she needed him to.

 

Claire's back arched off the mattress, her fingers tightening slightly in his hair, soft gasps escaping her lips, mingling with his name like a prayer. Nothing in the world mattered anymore, nothing outside her bedroom. 

 

It didn't take much to undo her, maybe because she'd been hearing echoes of his touch ever since the last time she'd had him like this. When she pulled him back up, breathless and flushed, his lips met hers again, letting him guide him exactly where she wanted him, and the sweet sounds from the back of her throat were enough for him.

 

He slowed, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, a vow wrapped in the warmth of his voice.

 

She pulled him back up, her lips finding his again, desperate and breathless. “Don’t stop,” she murmured, guiding him where she needed him most.

 

He took his time, relearning every inch of her, rediscovering the places that made her sigh, the spots that made her cling to him like he was the only thing that mattered.

 

Her fingertips roamed over his shoulders, down his back, the expanse of his chest, losing herself in the feeling of him, his soft voice against her ear. Leon, here, with her, like no time had passed at all.

 

Every inch of her was drowned in him, if not by touch then by thought. There was nothing tentative left in the way they moved, no hesitation– just a need only the other knew how to calm. 

 

Their bodies remembered what their minds had tried so hard to forget. The sounds of their breathing, the soft creak of the mattress, the whispered reassurances. 

 

Pacign ebbed and flowed, shifting between frantic need and aching tenderness. Whether they were making up for lost time or savoring every second they had was unknown. Maybe it was both. 

 

Claire’s legs tightened around his waist, urging him deeper, closer. Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him to her, and as she kissed him again, her lips soft and needy, it was as if the entire world outside the room ceased to exist. 

 

Their movements grew more frantic, more desperate. But even in the haze, there was undeniable tenderness– a quiet gentleness in how Leon held her, how Claire clung to him and trusted him completely with a body that had become foreign even to herself. 

 

Only when he could feel her melt against him did he allow himself to feel it too, and he didn't let go until they'd both caught their breath. Their skin was slick with sweat, their hearts racing in sync, but the peace that came after was everything they could wish for. 

 

Claire turned her head to look at him, her fingers tracing lazy circles over his chest. Leon’s eyes remained closed for a moment, savoring the aftershocks of their closeness, his pulse still thundering in his ears. When he opened them, he found Claire watching him, her eyes burning with satisfied desire now. 

 

Leon’s hand found its way to her hair, his fingers threading through the strands as he tucked them behind her ear. “You okay?” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but full of concern.

 

She nodded, her cheek pressing against the warmth of his skin. “Yeah.” Her voice was breathless, but there was a peacefulness in it, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’m more than okay.”

 

“Was it everything you dreamed of?” he asked teasingly, nuzzling his nose to her temple. 

 

Claire chuckled, rolling her eyes, wrapping his arms around her and basking in his warmth. “Thought I told you not to let it get to your head.” She kissed his jaw.

 

His laugh rumbled softly beneath her, his hand moving along her back. “You're a hard woman to please, Claire.”

 

“Well, you lived up to the wait.”

 

Silence wrapped around them momentarily, their limbs still tangled together like they couldn't stand the thought of distance. When Leon lifted his head, his eyes caught sight of the alarm clock on the bedside table. 11:58. 

 

“Happy birthday,” he said softly against her ear, kissing her on the freckle right on her cheekbone. He'd been the first to say it when she woke up, and it was not lost on him the privilege it meant to be the last before she went to sleep. 

 

Claire held his gaze, a gentle warmth spreading through her. What a day it had been. Three decades, and now the one that would bring her one of her dearest dreams. 

 

“Why, thank you,” she sighed in contentment, still melted under his touch. 

 

Claire sat up, stretching slightly as she felt the coolness of the room wash over her, contrasting sharply with the lingering heat from their closeness. She glanced over her shoulder at Leon, her lips curling into a playful smile as she pushed the hair from his face.

 

“I think I’m gonna take a shower,” she said softly, her voice still breathless but carrying a teasing edge. 

 

"You know," she added, her tone suggestive but playful, "there’s plenty of room in there… if you feel like joining me."

 

“Don’t tempt me, Redfield,” he muttered under his breath, pushing himself up from the bed and following her to the door. "I’ll be there in a minute."

 

Her smile widened as she disappeared into the bathroom, her voice floating back to him just before the door clicked shut. “I’ll be waiting.”

 

Notes:

Please, if you feel the smallest urge to comment, do so on this chapter, cause writing smut has been definitely the greatest challenge with this fic. But I felt like giving you a bit of a treat for your utmost patience.

Love all of you and thank you for the amazing support. <<333

Chapter 6: Might be unprepared for having the baby blues

Summary:

Exciting news and heartfelt conversations

Notes:

I feel like every time I post I come with an apology for not staying on schedule. I'll go back to posting early on Mondays instead of late on Sundays.

Thank you for all the support you've all showed me. This fic was just my silly little way of getting back into writing and I'm incredibly grateful that you've found something you've liked in it.

As always, kudos and comments are endlessly appreciated. That's what motivates me to put all these ideas to whatever this is. <333

18 days later - April 19 

 

Drops of rain tapped softly against the window, blurring the view of the city outside. The gray morning light filtered through the curtains, mixing with the quiet hum of a lazy Sunday.

 

Claire barely noticed the dreary weather, too comfortable in the warmth of Leon’s arms, tangled up in sheets that smelled like him. His body radiated heat against her back, his chest rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm. 

 

She shifted slightly, and the movement stirred him. A soft hum left the back of his throat, his hold on her tightening for a brief second before relaxing as he came to his senses.

 

“Haven't slept like that in years.”

 

Claire huffed a small laugh, tilting her head just enough for his lips to brush against her temple. “I woke up before you did for once.” She turned slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, and he was already looking at her, ocean blue nearly enough to drown her uncertainties. 

 

They had spent the better part of the morning like this— wrapped around each other, comfortable in the silence.

 

“So…” His voice was raspy, still weighed by a rare eight hour sleep, only interrupted to feed the dog. “You got any plans today?”

 

She didn't break the moment right away, reveling in his closeness before she had to answer—before she had to acknowledge the parts of her day that didn’t include him.

 

“Besides this?” she said instead, her lips twitching into a playful smirk.  

 

“I hope you don't,” he teased, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

 

She swallowed the thought and sat up slightly, stretching her arms over her head. “Just some errands,” she finally answered.

 

Leon’s brows lifted slightly, his hand smoothing over her thigh beneath the covers. “Anything you need help with?”

 

She hesitated—only for a second—before shaking her head. “It’s fine. Just work stuff and whatnot.”

 

It was automatic, the way she brushed him off. The unshakeable need to push him away when it came to this. But it wasn’t his burden to carry, was it? Not when his life was already spread so thin. Between missions that dragged him across the world and the responsibilities waiting for him in D.C., his time was never truly his own. And yet, somehow, lately, it was hers.

 

“And I have a doctor's appointment later,” she added, watching the way his eyes subtly searched hers. 

 

“Oh yeah?” His voice was casual, but there was something unspoken beneath it. If she asked, he would go. She knew that.

 

But she didn’t ask.

 

She forced a small shrug, averting her gaze. “It’s just a routine checkup.”

 

The words felt like an apology. Like she was guilty for keeping him at arm’s length but still too scared to let him any closer. 

 

Leon didn’t press her. He just studied her for a moment longer, then shifted onto his back, rubbing a hand over his face before exhaling deeply.

 

“Alright,” he said eventually. “Guess I’ll just have to keep myself busy till you’re free again.”

 

Claire smiled despite herself, leaning down to kiss him—a slow, lingering press of lips, one that said more than she was willing to admit out loud. His presence felt too much like breathing: calming, and increasingly — terrifyingly— necessary. 

 

Rainfall had turned into a gentle drizzle by the time Claire finally peeled herself away from the warmth of the bed. She sat at the edge of the mattress, stretching before running a hand through her hair. His fingers found her back, trailing up and down her spine.

 

“Call me if you need anything.”

 

A few years ago he would've asked her to stay. He would've offered to clear his calendar, and Claire would've accepted. She would've crawled back into bed and wouldn't have returned to her place anytime soon. 

 

But, this wasn't the kind of responsibility he could help her ignore. 

 

She stood up and headed to the bathroom, changing from the old shirt of his she'd burrowed to her clothes that sat folded. She grabbed her bag, walking over to him. She leaned down, kissing him again. A reluctant goodbye. 

 

“I'll call you later,” she murmured against his lips. 

 

Leon's fingers brushed along her wrist before giving it a gentle squeeze. “I'll hold you to that.”

 

One last glance and then she left his bedroom, saying goodbye to Rex on her way out, and then she was by herself. 

 

Two hours later and she was ready. It was just a routine checkup, but the first mention of detecting possible complications had made her head go dizzy with nerves. The only thing worse than worrying about all the ways she could fail was the thought of never getting the chance to try.

 

She exhaled sharply, shaking the thought from her head as she grabbed her jacket and stepped out into the overcast afternoon. The air was damp from the morning rain, the pavement still slick with puddles. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself, heading down the steps toward the car parked at the curb.

 

She hadn't asked Leon to go with her, but she didn't plan going alone either.   

 

“Thought you were gonna make me come up and drag you out,” Jill teased, turning on the heater.

 

Claire huffed, climbing in and buckling her seatbelt. “Almost did.”

 

The parking lot faded out of view, replaced by the rainy streets on the way to the clinic. 

 

“So, any bets on what you're having?” Jill asked, not taking her eyes off the road.

 

She considered the question for a second, then shook her head. “I don't think I'll find out today.”

 

“My question still stands. C'mon… Mother's intuition or something.”

 

Claire smirked slightly, shaking her head. “Hasn't kicked in, I guess.” Her hand traced over her shirt. “I'll be happy with whatever…”

 

“That's good.” Jill smiled briefly at her. “They'll be a sweet kid either way.”

 

“Yeah,” Claire whispered, the statement settling into her heart. After a beat she spoke. “What about you?”

 

“Me? What do I think you're having?”

 

“Mmh.”

 

Jill hummed in thought, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. “I'm gonna say… a girl.”

 

Claire shot her a sidelong glance. “You sound pretty sure.”

 

“Call it veteran intuition.” She grinned. 

 

“And what will that ‘veteran intuition’ be rewarded with if you're right?” Claire asked amusedly. “Ten bucks?”

 

“Twenty.” Her smile was smug, always eager to win a bet against Chris Redfield— though neither would be saddened by the outcome of this one.

 

Claire rolled her eyes, but she couldn't hold back her chuckle. “You two are impossible.”

 

Conversation made the nerves in Claire's heart take the backseat, and by the time they reached the clinic she almost felt normal.

 

They stepped out into the cool air, sky still grey from the rainy morning. Inside, the waiting room was quiet, the scent of antiseptic and coffee lingering in the air. Claire checked in at the front desk, then followed Jill to a pair of chairs against the wall. 

 

Across from her, a few other expectant mothers sat with their partners— whispered conversations exchanged with smiles, fingers interlaced on armrests. 

 

She didn't resent them. 

 

Not really.

 

She just… noticed. 

 

Noticed the way they leaned into each other, the way their excitement — their nerves — were shared. Would it have been different if…

 

It didn't matter. Self-pity and what-ifs would get her nowhere.

 

In the same room there were women not only waiting alone, but with an air of loneliness Claire knew too well, only dimmed because Jill was there. 

 

“Claire?”

 

She blinked as Jill nudged her lightly.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yeah, just thinking,” she said with a faint smile.

 

Before Jill could probe further, a nurse called Claire's name. 

 

Jill gave her a reassuring look. “I’ll be right here,” she said, squeezing Claire’s arm briefly before letting go.

 

Claire nodded, exhaling as she stood and followed the nurse down the hall.

 

The exam room was small but comfortable, a cushioned chair beside the examination table, a monitor positioned near the bed. Claire sat stiffly, her hands fidgeting in her lap as she answered the standard questions—how she was feeling, any new symptoms, changes in diet or movement.

 

Then came the part she both dreaded and anticipated.

 

“Alright, let’s take a look,” the doctor said warmly, rolling her stool closer to the ultrasound machine. “Go ahead and lift your shirt a bit for me.”

 

Claire swallowed, lying back as the cold gel met her skin. She turned her head slightly, watching the monitor as the wand moved over her abdomen. It took a second before the grainy image came into focus—before that soft, rhythmic sound filled the room.

 

Every time, it felt more real. More terrifying. More incredible.

 

Everything looked good, the doctor reassured her. Healthy growth, strong heartbeat, no complications so far. Then, a pause.

 

“Would you like to know the sex?”

 

Claire’s heart jumped a little. She'd thought it was too early to know, but the knowledge was more than welcome.

 

She hesitated. And then, answered past the nod on her throat.

 

“…Yeah.”

 

The doctor smiled. Moved the wand slightly.

 

“Well,” she said after a moment, turning the screen to face her better, pointing at something Claire wasn't sure she understood. “You're having a healthy girl.”

 

A girl.

 

Claire exhaled softly, too stunned to say anything. A million thoughts ran through her mind. 

 

A daughter. It had felt real before, that was undeniable. But something about the revelation made it feel real not just in her body but her mind as well.

 

She was having a daughter. 

 

The rest of the appointment went in a blur, dulled by the new knowledge. When Claire stepped back into the waiting room, Jill was flipping through one of the magazines. She glanced up, brow lifting in silent question. 

 

Claire didn't say anything at first, just meeting Jill's gaze, lips twitching with a barely contained grin.

 

Jill's eyes narrowed. “Well?” 

 

“A girl,” Claire whispered, still marveling at how it felt to say it. The words were strange in her mouth, but at the same time, they felt like the most natural thing in the world.

 

“Claire!” Jill shot up from her seat, eyes widening as she took in the redhead's expression. “Oh my god, really? A girl ?” She reached for Claire, her hands grasping at her arms.

 

Claire laughed softly, her smile growing despite the surprise still simmering in her chest. “Yes,” she said, a little more confidently now, the weight of the words making her feel grounded, somehow. “A girl.”

 

Their joy was palpable, heightened by the novelty of the news and the nerves that had left Claire after knowing everything was progressing just like it had to. And Jill insisted on going somewhere, hoping to make use of the rare occasions they had to catch up, and hoping to provide Claire a distraction for as long as she could.

 

They ended up at a little café near Claire's place, the warmth providing a shelter from the chilly evening. Once they were seated, and their drinks were served, Jill began the conversation.

 

“So, have you thought about names?”

 

Claire chuckled, stirring her tea absentmindedly. “There's one or two I like.”

 

“Are any of them Jill?”

 

“That's top of my list, obviously,” Claire replied, shaking her head. 

 

“Good.” 

 

They shared a laugh. It was easy.

 

“Y'know… Chris is gonna go overboard with gifts,” Jill mused.

 

“Might even compete with Sherry.” 

 

“We'll all spoil her, I'm sure of it.”

 

Claire nodded slowly, a smile on her lips. She was sure of it too. There were things she wasn't yet sure how she would provide, but love would never be missing. Neither would hands ready to protect her.

 

Jill leaned back on her seat, watching Claire carefully. “How are you really feeling?”

 

“Honestly?” she inhaled slowly. “It's a lot. Can't really pretend I have that much time to figure things out anymore.”

 

Her lips twisted into a small smile. “It's not just a vague idea now.”

 

Jill nodded, listening intently. 

 

“I really–... I would've been happy either way.” She sighed, not too proud of what she was going to say, but she knew Jill would never judge. “I guess I'm a little relieved. It sounds stupid, I just– I don't want to be reminded of him.”

 

The other woman didn't answer right away. She wasn't judging, not even close. “It doesn't sound stupid, Claire,” she reassured. “I get it.”

 

Of course, a daughter didn't free her from Jack's shadow, but it was easier to picture her and not fill the blurry image of her face with Jack's features.  

 

“The baby is yours, Claire. Yours and yours alone,” Jill began. “If you don't want him in her life you have more than enough reason.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

Jill let the words settle, giving Claire space to breathe through the weight of them. There was no rush to move past the topic, no pressure to reframe it into something easier to digest.  

 

After a moment, Claire let out a small, slow breath and met Jill's gaze again. There were so many layers to it that they could be talking for years.

 

“And what about Leon?” Jill arched a brow knowingly.

 

Claire huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “I knew you were gonna ask that.”

 

“I think it's hard to ignore.”

 

“It is,” she admitted. “I didn't expect him to come back, not like this.”

 

“But are you happy he did?”

 

She exhaled slowly, searching for the right words. “Yeah,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “I am.”

 

Jill smirked, but it was gentle. “Then what’s the problem?”. 

 

“I don’t know,” Claire admitted. “I just-... I don’t want to be some kind of obligation to him. I don’t want her to be.”

 

“Do you really think that's what this is to him?”

 

It wasn't. She'd never doubted Leon loved her. Even when they'd been apart, the second she'd laid eyes on him at New Year's it'd been clear it would never go away. When she called he'd interwoven himself into her life almost instinctively– so naturally that it'd been easy to forget it wasn't just Claire's life he would be tangled in. 

 

“I don't want it to be,” she repeated. “I love him, Jill. I know he loves me too. We've always been complicated…”

 

“No shit,” Jill added with a smile. Understatement of the century. 

 

Claire chuckled, but then her expression sombered. “It's not as easy as taking him back. But I can't– I can't just walk away either.”

 

“I think you're way past taking him back.” 

 

It was harsh, but it was true. They'd crossed way too many lines to pretend they weren't already together, whatever that meant. But at this point of her life, commitment to Claire meant commitment to something far deeper. 

 

“I can't expect him to step up just because someone else didn't.”

 

“You don't need either of them, Claire,” Jill said firmly. “You don't need to fill up the space Jack left. If you want to be with Leon then be with him because you want to, not because you feel like you, or the baby, need someone.”

 

Claire absorbed Jill's words, a truth she'd known but couldn't acknowledge. “I want to be with him,” she admitted. “I wanted it to be him, but– it's not, and I don't think either of us has made peace with that.”

 

“Jesus,” Jill sighed, shaking her head amusedly. “So much for a boring year.”

 

She couldn't help but laugh. She'd thought that same thing herself too many times. “No kidding.”

 

“I don't know, Claire. It doesn't have to be all or nothing. I'm not saying you're marrying him tomorrow, but– you've still got what… five? six months?” Jill spoke gently, knowing it was easier said than done. “What if you just let yourself breathe for a bit? See where it leads.” 

 

She wanted to believe it could be that easy— letting things happen, giving herself space to figure things out without constantly questioning whether she had the right to. 

 

“Yeah, I think you're right,” Claire murmured, exhaling as she let the thought settle. 

 

Jill smirked. “I usually am.”

 

“Ok, then. I'll blame you if it all goes to hell.”

 

“Fair.” Jill took a sip of her coffee, watching Claire closely. “So, what now?”

 

She sighed, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. “I'll go home, I guess.”

 

The other woman arched an eyebrow. “To your place, or…?”

 

Claire shook her head with a quiet laugh. “Yeah, mine.”

 

“Alright… you gonna tell him?”

 

Claire hesitated. She wanted to. To see the way his face would change when she shared the news. The way he'd try not to look too excited. But the discovery had made something settle within Claire that she was scared to see settle within him. This was real. And it wasn't their moment.

 

“I guess I will.”

 

Jill hummed in approval, giving Claire a reassuring smile. “It'll be fine. He cares about you, Claire. No title is needed to make him your family.”

 

They finished their drinks, and soon, Claire was back in the passenger seat, watching the city blur past the rain-streaked window. 

 

“Actually,” she said, looking back at Jill, “why don't you drop me off at his place instead?”

 

Jill didn't look surprised, just nodded, a smirk settling in her face. “Thought you might change your mind.”

 

Claire rolled her eyes, but there was no annoyance behind it. Jill was impossible sometimes, but she wasn't wrong. 

 

“As long as Jack's out of your life, everything else will fall into place,” Jill said, spite lacing her voice as she pulled up to Leon's building. 

 

“Oh, trust me, he is.”

 

Jill hummed, stopping the car. “Alright, then.” She reached over, giving Claire's arm a gentle squeeze. “You got this.”

 

“Thanks, Jill.” She sighed, unbuckling her seatbelt. “For everything.”

 

“It's nothing. You take care of you and your girl.”

 

Your girl . Claire could get used to that. With a final smile she stepped out of the car. The cold evening air made her wrap her jacket tighter around herself.

 

Her fingers hovered over the door for a beat before she knocked.

 

It only took a moment before she heard footsteps, a soft bark from a dog, and then the lock turning. Leon opened the door, clearly surprised but immediately softer around the edges.

 

“Hey,” he said, stepping aside. “Wasn't expecting you.” 

 

She offered a smile as she stepped inside. “Kind of a last-minute decision.”

 

His eyes scanned her face, searching for anything that might hint at bad news. “Everything alright?” 

 

“Everything's fine,” she reassured him, meeting him halfway in a slow, lingering kiss. His hands settled over her lower back, pulling her impossibly closer.

 

When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his, exhaling softly. 

 

“You sure?”

 

Claire nodded, though she knew he could probably still feel the slight tremor in her breath. “Yeah… just a long day.”

 

He didn’t press, just ran his hands up and down her arms, offering warmth. “Do you wanna sit down?”

 

She did. But first—

 

“I found out today,” she murmured.

 

Leon tilted his head slightly. “Found out what?”

 

Her lips parted, but the words caught in her throat for a beat. Then, finally, she smiled.

 

“It’s a girl.”

 

He pulled back just enough to look at her fully, his blue eyes widening as the words processed. “A girl?” His voice was careful, like he was the only person who understood what it meant to her— perhaps because he was.

 

Her lips trembled as she tried to smile, but before she could stop it, the first tear slipped free. 

 

“Claire…” His thumb brushed away a tear, his voice impossibly gentle. “Hey. It’s okay.”

 

She let out a breath of a laugh, shaking her head. “I know. I just—” She exhaled shakily. “I didn’t expect it to hit me like it did.”

 

Leon smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead before resting his against hers. “It’s big news.”

 

“I always... I always pictured a daughter, y'know?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. The thought of a son had never really crossed her mind; it had always been this little girl, even before she’d ever imagined becoming a mother.

 

“I remember.” A slap to the face as much as it was a bandaid to the heart. He remembered because she'd talked about it– always top of her list of things life had taken away from them. A little girl with her red hair and his nose. And now, here she was. Her daughter. Not his, but not Jack's either. 

 

A shuddering breath left her, and she let herself melt into him, arms wrapping around his neck. He just held her, swaying them slightly, grounding her the way only he ever could.

 

For now, that was enough. No overthinking, no talking about what this meant for them.

 

Just this.

 

Notes:

Short chapter but incredibly important. Girl mom Claire will always be special to me. Of course, things can always get worse before they get better- but fret none... this is a happy ending fic, so any angst is temporary. Love you all.

Chapter 7: I never said I'd be alright, just thought I could hold myself together

Summary:

A difficult conversation and an unexpected run in.

Notes:

I sound like a broken record, but kudos and comments are always appreciated. <333

May 10th - 22 days later

“You’re up early,” Claire remarked,her eyes narrowing slightly as she caught sight of the way Leon was hiding something behind his back.

 

“Had to beat the rush,” Leon said, his voice light as he stepped closer. “They're in high demand today, y'know.”

 

Before Claire could ask what he meant, he pulled his hands out from behind his back, revealing a small bouquet of fresh daisies.

 

“Happy Mother's Day, Claire.” Her day to claim even if it didn't feel like it.

 

Flowers. That was unusual.

 

The gesture felt foreign, a sentimentality neither of them had ever taken to naturally. Her smile was almost shy, uncharacteristic for her, but genuine all the same. “Thank you,” she murmured, fingers brushing against his as she took them. The petals were soft under her touch, the scent fresh as she lifted them closer to her face—partly to smell them, partly to hide the blush creeping into her cheeks.

 

Leon’s lips twitched, clearly noticing. “Didn’t think you were the type to blush over flowers.”

 

Claire rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the small laugh that slipped out. “Shut up.”

 

She stepped forward, standing on her toes just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, smiling as his hand moved to her face.

 

“Seriously,” she whispered against his lips. “Thank you.”

 

His reply was nothing more than a quiet hum, but the warmth in his eyes said everything she needed to hear.

 

Pulling back, Claire turned towards the kitchen, scrambling through the cabinets for a vase of some kind. She filled them with water, glancing over her shoulder and catching Leon watching her. Neither of them knew where he fit into her life anymore, but if leaving it unspoken was what it took to keep it– they would dance around it for as long as needed.

 

“What?” she asked.

 

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “Just nice seeing you happy.”

 

She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. This man was going to be the death of her. “Woke up quite the romantic today, hm?”

 

“Just for you.”

 

“It's nice out,” she observed through the window, fussing with the flowers longer than necessary “we could go for a walk.”

 

Leon arched a brow. “You feeling up for it?”

 

“Well, I just suggested it,” she shot back, earning a chuckle out of him.

 

“Alright, alright,” he said, hands raised in surrender. “I'll let you set the pace.”

 

Claire smirked, already reaching for her sneakers. “I could still outrun you.”

 

“I don't doubt it,” he conceded, not keen on challenging her.

 

---

 

 

Downtown D.C. was alive by the time they reached the White House, bustling with families and tourists alike. There was no need between them to ask where they were heading; they were both following the route they had years ago, when outings like this were routine. 

 

Leon stayed close beside her, matching her pace without question. He didn't doubt that Claire would still be able to keep up, but there was no pressure for her to do. So they just walked. 

 

They continued their slow walk, the sounds of the city fading into the background as Claire let herself unwind in the quiet of the park. The green space before the White House was sprawling and peaceful, dotted with families enjoying the spring sunshine. 

 

“I like this place, y'know?” she stated after a while as they passed through the park he saw almost every day. “I didn't like it when I first moved… Felt too quiet compared to New York. But now, I get it.”

 

Leon hummed in agreement, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He didn’t share the same attachment to the city. For him, D.C. had been a place of duty, of responsibilities that never felt his own. But it was Claire’s home now, and that made it a little easier. “It grows on you,” he said.

 

“It's a good place to raise a kid,” she added after a pause. 

 

Children ran around in the grass, laughing as if echoing her statement. It was almost enough to make them forget the constant bloodshed that tainted their lives. Leon glanced at her, catching the way her gaze lingered on a family in the distance, a little girl holding onto her father's hand. 

 

Comfortable silence followed, though Claire's mind was anything but quiet. “You've got any big jobs coming up?”

 

“Not soon, no. Just normal stuff.”

 

Claire huffed a laugh, looping her arm around his. “Well, I'm sure your ‘normal stuff’ is still crazy.”

 

“Can't complain too much,” he said with a shrug and an easy smile.

 

Leon felt the weight of her arm as she leaned slightly into him. “You wanna sit down for a bit?”

 

“I'm fine. Just a little thirsty.”

 

A department store came into view, and although all they needed were a pair of water bottles, Claire was happy for once to just go wherever the day took her.

 

They walked towards the small drink section by the entrance, grabbing what they wanted and going to check out. She stood by his side while he paid, but her eyes had drifted to the seemingly endless apparels of clothing, furniture, and stuff she hadn't even begun thinking of needing. 

 

“You wanna take a look?” he asked, his voice softer now.

 

She opened her mouth to brush it off, but then she exhaled and gave a small nod— the more she delayed it the harder it would be later on. Besides, it wasn't every day she had the energy to do this. “Just a look.”

 

They wandered over, moving to the uncharted territory that was the infant section. Claire's expression was equal parts wander and disbelief, her fingers instinctively tracing the soft fabric of tiny onesies and blankets.

 

“Feels weird,” she murmured.

 

Leon tilted his head. “What does?”

 

“That this is real,” she admitted, holding a tiny dress up as if it would help her process it. “I mean, I know it is. I felt her the other day. But sometimes, it still doesn’t feel real, y’know?”

 

And he did know, perhaps more than he'd like to. It felt silly— to have such complicated feelings over something so life-changing that wasn't even his to hold on to. It didn't feel real for him either, and he wasn't sure he wanted it to.

 

He reached out, running a thumb over the soft fabric in her hands. “You've been saying that ever since you found out,” he pointed out with a gentle smile. 

 

Claire let out a breath of laughter, shaking her head. “Well, I didn't exactly expect it to go this way.” Even if she wouldn't change it now.

“How'd you expect it to go, then?” An unfair question, he knew— too charged for the place they were in.  

 

She lingered for another moment before putting the dress into a basket she found. For a second he thought she wouldn't answer, but then he recognized the way she bit her lip when she was mulling over an answer. Her voice was quieter when she spoke again. “If you’d asked me a few years ago, I think I would’ve thought it’d be you.” 

 

There it was. A shared sentiment now out in the open. That was Claire… saying out loud his deepest thoughts as if they were the most casual thing in the world. 

 

Her eyes found his, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes when she saw exactly the look she expected to see on his face. The reluctant acknowledgement that once again she'd read him like a book. “I mean, come on. It makes sense, doesn't it?” She shrugged, attempting to keep it lighthearted. “Wouldn't have been as crazy as whatever this is.”

 

Leon scoffed softly, shaking his head as he drifted his gaze from her face. “No,” he agreed. “It wouldn't have.”

 

For a moment neither of them spoke. Claire skimmed over more clothes, placing them on the basket, and he stayed nearby. 

 

“Look at that,” she teased, raising an eyebrow at him, although her face carried a quiet pleading for him to say something. “Left you speechless this time?”

 

He caught the regret in her eyes, maybe even fear that it'd been too much, all of it overshadowed by the need to hide that she was vulnerable about this. So he simply smiled and shook his head, a fond sigh leaving his mouth. 

 

“Has anyone ever told you how impossible you are, Claire?” 

 

That did the trick. Her grin came easy, because he offered just the reassurance she needed. Jack had called her impossible— many times before. But never with such love. He just didn’t bother figuring her out.

 

“A few times, maybe,” she answered. And then she kissed him, just because she could. 

 

His arms wrapped around her, steady even when they pulled back. He kissed her temple and squeezed her shoulder. “Alright, let's keep looking, yeah?”

 

Claire nodded. It wasn't even the tip of the iceberg, but it was something. They both felt the same way.  “I should get a few more things,” she said, shifting the conversation away. “Might as well get used to it.”

 

Leon watched her for a second longer before nodding. “Yeah. Might as well.”

 

He didn’t say what he was really thinking—that he’d already been getting used to it. That even if she wasn’t asking him to, a part of him had already started stepping into a role neither of them were sure he was supposed to have.

 

“You think it's too soon to get her this?” Claire asked, holding up a black leather jacket many sizes too big for a baby.

 

“Gotta start her collection early, I guess.”

 

Claire chuckled, putting it back on the rack. “She won't be able to wear it for, what… six years?”

 

They continued sorting through the aisles with  a newfound sense of peace. A couple of expecting parents to the eyes of anyone unaware of how long it had taken them to get there. And maybe, they could pretend that's what this was, too. 

 

What started out as a mere curiosity had ended with a basket full of pink and glittery baby clothes. Not personally Claire’s style, but too cute to resist. 

 

“Oh shit,” Claire muttered under her breath, grabbing his arm and guiding them the other way. 

 

Leon followed without protest, immediately alert for whatever threat she seemed to have caught on. There seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary, just shoppers doing their own thing. Some teenagers, a young couple, and an old lady who seemed to be the reason for Claire's sudden nervousness. 

 

“You know her?” he asked.

 

Claire looked over her shoulder, sighing in relief that the woman had apparently not seen them yet. “Jack's mom,” she muttered.

 

His posture straightened slightly. He had never met her, but anyone who made Claire tense like that, wasn't good in his book— least of all if they were related to Jack. 

 

Before they could make a quiet escape, a voice cut through. 

 

“Claire?”

 

She shut her eyes for half a second before turning around, giving the woman a reluctant smile. 

 

“Hey, Susan.” 

 

Claire could see it in her eyes. The slow realization that it was real, not just a small inconvenience her son had mentioned.

 

“I… didn't expect to see you here,” Susan said, her eyes taking all of it in. From Claire, to her midsection, to Leon, and then to the basket full of baby clothes. A girl, then.

 

“Yeah, well…” Claire shrugged, adjusting her grip on the basket. “Not how I used to spend my Sundays. But here we are.”

 

Susan’s eyes lingered on her stomach again before flicking back up to her face. “You look… well.”

 

It almost sounded sincere. Almost.

 

Claire would give her the benefit of the doubt. The woman had never been outright cruel to her—just distant, polite in that way that made you feel like you were being tolerated more than welcomed. She wanted to believe Jack’s behavior wasn’t a direct reflection of his upbringing.

 

But then Susan’s gaze landed on Leon, and something in her demeanor shifted.

 

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said, though there was no real curiosity in her tone.

 

Leon had dealt with all kinds of hostility in his life, but this was a new one. Still, he kept his expression easy, extending a hand. No need to make this worse than it already was.

 

“We haven’t,” he confirmed. “Leon.”

 

Susan hesitated before shaking his hand, her grip firm but brief. When she let go, she looked back at Claire, her lips pressing together in something that wasn’t quite disapproval but wasn’t far off.

 

“Has Jack reached out at all?” Susan asked, almost apprehensive to know the answer.

 

“He has tried.” She wouldn't sugarcoat it. It wasn't about Jack reaching out or not. He could reach out— she wouldn't answer.

 

“Listen. I know he was wrong. He was scared. Men— you know how they are… He was scared. They don't handle responsibility well at first.”

 

Both Leon and Claire's jaws tensed at that. He almost spoke up. But he could practically see the way Claire ached for the challenge. 

 

“Scared?” she repeated, incredulous. “And you think I wasn't?”

 

“He knows he messed up, Claire.” She paused, her expression almost pleading. “But he deserves a chance to make things right.”

 

Claire simply stared at her, wondering if this was what mothers did. She didn't think so.

 

The other woman took her silence as consideration, because she pressed forward. “You two were good together once. You loved each other.”

 

Claire shook her head. “I'm sorry if he made you believe that, Susan. But I'm glad he's not here.”

 

“But he's the father,” Susan insisted, her voice trying to reason with her. “You owe it to your child at least—” 

 

“No, I don't,” Claire cut her off firmly. 

 

Susan seemed almost taken aback, but she quickly composed herself, looking at the basket full of obviously girly stuff. “So it's a girl?”

 

“Yeah,” Claire answered, her hand resting gently over her stomach as if in an instinctual act of protection. It wasn't the kind of information she wanted in Jack's hands, but it was too late now.

 

Susan’s eyes softened just a little, but the coldness in her tone remained. “That’s lovely. Girls are... different. I’m sure she’ll be a handful. But I’m sure Jack will come around in time. He always does.”

 

Leon could feel Claire tense beside him, her expression unreadable. He could see the way Susan's words were meant to play on her guilt, but she wasn’t taking the bait. He placed a hand on her back, a small but comforting gesture.

 

“I think we should get going,” Leon said, his voice calm but not lacking firmness. Claire could stand there and take any attack to herself, but Jack coming around for her daughter was not something she needed on her mind.

 

She nodded, more grateful for the intervention than she'd let on. She could stay there all day arguing with Susan, but it would do her no good. And so, she turned around. not even caring about saying goodbye. 

 

“You're just trying to replace him, aren't you?” Susan called out, grasping at straws. 

 

Claire could’ve ignored it. She could’ve walked away, let Leon guide her out of this, but she wasn’t going to let Susan have the last word. Not on this.

 

She stopped, turning around slowly, her gaze meeting Susan’s head-on. Her voice was calm, controlled, but the fire in her eyes was unmistakable.

 

Leon felt the way Claire’s body tensed beneath his hand, her frustration coiling tight like a wound spring. He had seen her hold her own in far worse situations—faced down things that would leave most people broken—but this? This was different. This was personal in a way no monster ever could be.

 

“You think I’m the one keeping him from her?” Claire scoffed, shaking her head. “Jack did that all on his own. He ran. He left me stranded. He made his choice, Susan, and I made mine.”

 

Susan’s lips pressed into a thin line, but Claire wasn’t done.

 

“And now you want to stand here and guilt me? To tell me I owe him something?” Her voice didn’t waver, but there was an exhaustion beneath it. “I don’t owe Jack a fucking thing. And I sure as hell don’t owe you an explanation.”

“Take care of your fucking son,” she added with quiet force. “And please, just— let me take care of my daughter.”

 

Leon shifted closer, his presence solid beside her. “Come on,” he murmured, just for her.

She moved almost automatically then. Going through the motions of checking out as if she wanted to be anywhere but there. A lovely morning shattered just as easily. Knowing she wasn't at fault didn't make her feel any less shitty. It almost felt like the price to pay for ever trying to convince herself it could be easy. 

 

The fresh air should've helped. But it didn't. It was almost 1 pm, but the day felt already done.

 

“You hungry?” Leon asked, glancing at her. He knew Claire needed space to let the anger settle before she'd wanna talk about it.

 

Claire sighed, pushing her hair out of her face. “Not really.”

 

He'd expected that answer, recognized the lie in it. “Ok. We’re still getting lunch.”

 

She let out something between a scoff and a sigh, shaking her head but not arguing.

 

A short, quiet, drive later, they ended up in a restaurant— not too crowded, nothing fancy, but comfortable. Claire slid into a booth, resting her arms on the table, rubbing her eyes.

 

They ordered food, though Claire didn't even look at the menu, instead focusing on the condensation on her water glass. “You want me to say something, don't you?”

 

“If you want to.” He took a sip of his coffee, watching her carefully.

 

Her sigh was deep, it wasn't his fault her mood had plummeted. “I thought I'd only ever have to deal with him. Kinda forgot he has a family.”

 

“Yeah, it's not that hard to see where his manipulation comes from.”

 

She hummed in agreement. “I'd met her two or three times. She seemed nice.”

 

Leon nodded, watching as she picked at the corner of her napkin, tearing tiny pieces off. “You handled her well.”

 

“You think so?”

 

“I think she deserved to hear things how they are and not how Jack paints them out to be.”

 

She looked up at him, something wary in her eyes. “What if he tries to paint them out like that in front of a court?”

 

Leon shook his head. There were a lot of things he couldn't reassure her about, but this wasn't one of them. “He'd just make a fool of himself.”

 

He let her sit in silence for a while, letting her process. “I don't want her to grow up under that shadow. And maybe Susan's right… He doesn't have a right to her, but— maybe she does have a right to him.”

 

“She has a right to be safe, Claire,” Leon said. “The first thing Jack did when he found out was put you in danger.”

 

Claire let out a slow breath, leaning back in the booth. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “I just… I don't want her to grow up one day and resent me for it.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For making that choice for her.”

 

“You didn't make any choice. He walked away and left you to handle the consequences of that.”

 

She was quiet for a moment, nervous about things she hadn't let herself wonder in a while. “What if he gets visitation rights or something? I can't control that… I don't think I can handle years of him popping in and out, just enough to make her wonder if she's supposed to wait for him.”

 

It was a cruel reality, but it was a possibility. Even if Claire made the decision to cut ties with Jack completely— legally there were still resources he could use. Leon couldn't promise he wouldn't, but he sure wouldn't let Claire blame herself for it.

 

“Jack doesn't have a leg to stand on. You have every right to protect her from someone who reacted the way he did.”

 

She nodded. He could tell the words were sinking in, even if nervousness remained. “I didn't even want him to find out it's a girl. But obviously Susan's gonna tell.”

 

Leon sighed, “yeah, well, I think it's very telling that he has to find out because his mother ran into you.”

 

“Who knows what horrible way she'll make it out to be like I'm the bad guy.”

 

“Let her,” he said simply. “She's wrong. They both are.”

 

Claire wasn't the type to let things go easily, but he could see the tension in her shoulders starting to ease, even if just a little. 

 

“What she said about you, I—”

 

“I know. She just wanted to hurt you.” 

 

“Leon—”

 

“I’m fine, Claire.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Let’s just drop it.”

 

She hesitated, watching the way his shoulders tensed. Maybe she should push. Maybe she should tell him it was okay if it got to him—because she still didn’t know how to handle it half the time. 

 

“I just want to make sure you're okay,” Claire said softly, not pushing, but giving him a small opening.

 

He met her eyes, returning her soft concern. “I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me.”

 

All she could do was nod. She wanted to tell him that she worried— all the time. That every time he brushed her off it felt like the final droplet that would make them overflow. 

 

The rest of the meal was quieter, not uncomfortable, but careful. Leon still nudged a few fries onto her plate, and Claire still rolled her eyes at him but ate them anyway. It felt like a forced attempt at normalness, contrary to the easy way it'd been earlier. But she was still happy to be there with him. 

 

With nothing left to do in the town, they headed back to Claire's place, arms full of the bags of everything she'd bought, and hearts a little heavy at the turn of events. She led the way up to the door, fumbling for her keys as she half-smiled to herself. 

 

Claire kicked off her shoes and let out a tired sigh, dropping some of the bags into the couch. The door clicked shut behind them, letting them again in the stillness. “I think I'm gonna take a nap.”

 

“Yeah, you go ahead and do that.”

 

But before moving to her room, she approached him, hoping a hug could say everything she couldn't bear too. He wrapped his arms around her like maybe it did. 

 

Without a word, he leaned forward, kissing her. It was simple. It was easy. They pulled back and she looked the tiniest bit less tired. 

 

Leon brushed a strand of hair from her face, his thumb grazing her cheek. “That's better.”

 

“Yeah,” she whispered. “It is.”

 

Notes:

Crazy to think that so many things have happened and yet the story is only picking up. Don't know if I'd mentioned it before but, it's gonna be 16-17 chapters, so we're almost halfway. I've also thought about doing one-shots set in this same universe once I finish this one. Lots of love to all of you :*

Chapter 8: But the stillness might eat me alive

Summary:

A harsh reality check

Notes:

Said I’d post on mondays but here’s a little early gift to y’all. Back to longer chapters YAY. This one is intense so just a heads up.

Just so it's easier to get an idea, Claire is 24 weeks along (little over 6 months). I think I'll keep pointing it out, so you all have a better idea without having to do all the mental math.

Also just so you know, each time you leave a comment or kudos a fairy is born. Love you all. 💋

June 17 - 38 days later

 

Reports and paperwork had once been a welcome break from going out to the field, but ever since it was the only thing she did, it had just turned tedious. Of course, when they'd given her the chance to take things easy, she had taken it. Although a little reluctantly.

 

The office was quiet, the soft clicks of keyboards and overlapping meetings filled the space. The clock marked just after noon. Time crawled here. It always did. 

 

She’d seen enough blood spilled to last a lifetime. Enough loss to bury itself deep in her bones. But these days, it sat heavier in her chest.Images and reports of outbreaks filled her screen —pictures taken by other agencies that had managed to contain the disasters before they ever became TerraSave’s problem. 

 

Still, the worry never left her.

 

Chris was out there. Jill was out there. She didn't even know where Sherry was. And then Leon, who came back looking a little more dead each time he was away. She ached for the action, but it wasn't lost on her the privilege it meant to be out of it. 

 

And now, it wasn't just herself she had to think about. The thought of losing any of them terrified her, but it was more than just her fear now—it was the idea of her daughter never knowing them, of them never getting to meet her.

 

Absentmindedly, her hand drifted to her midsection. The subtle curve was undeniable now, no longer something that could be brushed off as anything but what it was. She could feel the baby moving now— a fluttering feeling that still caught her off guard. 

 

Her phone buzzed on her desk, a call she'd been expecting ever since he'd gone away. 

 

Leon. 

 

She answered almost immediately, leaning back against the chair. “Hey, how are you?”

 

A low sigh came through the other end, followed by the sound of a vehicle in the background. “I'm fine, Claire. Things are going fine. We shouldn't be here much longer.”

 

Thank God , she thought. “That's good. That's really good.”

 

“How about you? You doing okay?” he asked after a beat. 

 

She hesitated, fingers tracing over the fabric of her shirt. “Yeah, I'm fine. A little bored without you.”

 

“I bet you are. Don't wear yourself out,” he said. No matter how routinely this was for all of them, time had taught them their lessons— even the smallest of tasks could go wrong. So they never took time for granted. “Take it easy, alright?”

 

“I will,” she promised. She could take it easy, but she'd still worry for him, just how she worried for Chris and Jill. “I'll try.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Rex misses you too, y'know.”

 

Leon chuckled softly, it was warm and familiar. “Oh really? I'm sure you're keeping him good company, though.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“I'll be back before you know it,” he reassured. 

 

He'd left many times before. It was a part of his life she couldn't ignore; that she couldn't work her way around. It just was. 

 

“It's fine, just— take care of yourself, yeah?”

 

“I always do, Claire. Don't worry about me.”

 

She cleared her throat, forcing a small laugh. “Still haven't settled on a name yet.”

 

“Nothing good enough?” his tone was lighter now, wanting to keep her talking.

 

“I've got a few I like. But nothing feels quite right.”

 

Leon was quiet for a second, and then, with that familiar, teasing voice he spoke. “So Jillian is out of the question?”

 

“Is she paying you to say that?” Claire laughed.

 

“You wound me.”

 

“You'll survive.”

 

They lingered a little longer, neither wanting to hang up just yet. But duty was always waiting.

 

“I should let you go,” she finally said.

 

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Be safe, okay?”

 

“You too.”

 

Claire hung up with a heavy sigh. Tale as old as time. 

 

The rest of the day was uneventful; boring in a way she’d learned to appreciate. The hours felt too slow, the elevator felt too long, and her back felt like it was on fire.

 

She stepped into the lobby, content that it meant she was finally free to go home— or well, Leon’s place. 

 

“Bye, Sarah,” she placed her keycard and stepped through the glass door.

 

The sight of him made her stomach twist.

 

Jack sat there, leaning back in one of the uncomfortable lobby chairs. He’d already seen her. God knows how long he stayed there waiting for her to walk out of that door.

 

Claire’s first instinct was to turn around, to go right back into the office and wait him out, but she refused to let herself feel cornered. Not by him.

 

She squared her shoulders and walked forward, her steps steady despite the unease curling inside her. Jack noticed her immediately, pushing himself up with that same smug confidence she used to mistake for charm.

 

“Claire.” He said her name with practiced diplomacy. Like she was just one of the clients he was trained to persuade.

 

Insurance broker. He had always been a salesman at heart. 

 

She didn’t stop walking, barely sparing him a glance. “I don’t have anything to say to you, Jack.”

 

“Claire, wait—”

 

She was already moving past him when his hand brushed her arm. Not a hard grip, not forceful, but enough to make her stop.

 

Her breath caught, not in fear, but in pure anger. She turned her head slowly, her glare sharp enough to cut. This wasn’t even déjà vu, it was just cruelty.

 

“Don’t touch me.” Her voice was low, steady, but full of warning.

 

Jack held his hands up in mock surrender, a gesture that did nothing to ease her rage. “I just wanna talk.”

 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” She’d lost it with Susan. Jack wasn’t even worth stopping for

 

“Come on,” he said, his voice dipping into something more persistent. “You can’t just ignore me forever.”

 

“You sure?” She moved to walk past him again, but his voice stopped her.

 

“I know it’s a girl.”

 

Claire’s stomach twisted, and she hated the flicker of vulnerability he’d managed to pull from her. Of course Susan had told him. She’d known it the second the words had left her mouth.

 

She inhaled slowly, steadying herself before turning to face him fully. “And? You think knowing changes anything?”

 

Jack exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I fucked up, okay? I panicked. I wasn’t expecting—”

 

“Stop,” Claire cut him off. “I don’t care.”

 

“I just—” He faltered, shaking his head. “I don’t want to be the bad guy here.”

 

A bitter laugh escaped her. That’s what this is about.

 

His reputation. His ego. Not her. Not the baby.

 

“Then stop calling,” she said, ice settling in her tone. “And for fuck’s sake, don’t show up at my work.”

 

“Claire,” he called after her, his voice now more insistent, less pleading, “you can’t just shut me out like this. I want to be part of her life. I’m her father—”

 

“Don’t,” Claire interrupted sharply, the words like acid in her throat. She wasn’t about to let him manipulate her into some half-baked version of a family, where his selfishness and arrogance were excused by a mere title.

 

She pushed open the door and stepped into the sunlight, hoping the fresh air would clear her mind, but the moment she reached the edge of the parking lot, she heard his footsteps behind her. She quickened her pace, but Jack’s voice followed her like a shadow.

 

“God, would you just—stop acting like I’m some piece of shit?”

 

He wasn't worth it. Wasn't worth ever hearing him out. Her focus was on the car up ahead, trying to reach it as quickly as she could. But when she was only a few steps away from it, Jack caught up to her and grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around with enough force to make her stumble. 

 

Without warning, he stepped forward, his hand reaching out for her face. The next thing she knew his lips were on hers. Too fast, too forceful. A man trying to reclaim something he thought belonged to him. 

 

And, Claire… she'd thrown punches for way less than that. An instinct developed over a decade of fighting— or maybe she just wanted to. Her fist connected with the side of his jaw before either of them could react. 

 

Jack staggered back, his face flushed red with a mix of surprise and fury, a hand automatically lifting to his bruised face. “What the hell?” he exclaimed.  

 

She wiped the back of her hand against her mouth, disgust settling in her stomach. Her chest heaved, adrenaline spiking through her veins.

 

“Are you insane?” she shot back, voice sharp with fury.

 

“Jesus, Claire. Guess that government boy of yours taught you a thing or two.”

 

She wouldn’t bite the bait this time. His claim was as stupid as it was shallow— empty of any trace of knowledge about the times in her life when fighting had gotten her out alive.

 

Her hands fumbled with the car keys for a second, but she managed to unlock it and slide into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind her. 

 

Jack took a step closer, hands spread in some half-assed attempt at looking reasonable. “Come on. We can talk like adults.”

 

She rolled down the window just enough to glare at him. “Try that shit again, and I swear to God, I won’t stop at one punch.”

 

Jack’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and for a second, she thought he might say something else. Something worse. But he didn’t. Maybe the warning in her eyes—or the throbbing in his jaw—was enough.

 

Without waiting for a response, she put the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot, tires screeching against the pavement. She didn’t look back.

 

---

 

 

By the time she made it back to Leon's apartment her hands had stopped shaking, but the knot in her chest hadn't faded in the slightest. It was quiet when she stepped inside, save for the soft jingling of Rex's collar as he trotted up to greet her. 

 

Claire bent down, sitting cross-legged over the hardwood floor, letting Rex nuzzle his head against her hand. The dog was always perceptive, and today, it seemed like he could sense the shift in her mood. 

 

“Hey, buddy,” she murmured, smiling softly as nudged her gently. “I'm okay,” she added, although it sounded untrue even to her ears.

 

After a few moments of silence, she pushed herself to her feet, shuffling towards the bedroom. The stillness of the apartment settled deep in her bones. It felt strange to be here without Leon— like even the walls were holding their breath while he was gone. But, if Jack had shown up at her work; nothing stopped him from showing up to her house. So, if anything,  she was grateful he wouldn't find her there.

 

Leon had only been gone a few days. He'd be back by the end of the week most likely. She'd offered to keep an eye on Rex, and he'd let her stay because they both knew it ran deeper. It was just easier being without him if she could feel his presence around. 

 

Slowly she made her way to the bedroom, setting her shoes to the side and sinking onto the bed with a long, tired breath. Maybe it was a result of her heightened sense of smell, or maybe it was just loneliness— but she swore she could still smell him on the pillows. 

 

Get a grip, she thought. He was just out there, and here she was… acting like he'd died just because she had a bad day. But today… it all felt like it.

 

She closed her eyes, trying to push the swirl of emotions away. The room was dim, cast in the last rays of sunlight— it only made her feel more out of place. 

 

Then, there it was again. Firm and undeniable.

 

A moment later, another nudge met her palm, stronger this time. It was one of the few reliefs she'd been allowed to have. Every indicator signaled that it was going smoothly. 

 

Claire let out a soft, shaky laugh, the tension in her chest unraveling just a little. “You're really making sure I don't forget today, huh?”

 

Her throat tightened, and her chest felt like it was being squeezed. The tears came without warning, burning the back of her eyes. She blinked them away, but one slipped down her cheek, and then another.

“Guess you're sick of all the stress too,” she whispered, fingers still resting over the subtle movements beneath her skin. “I'm sorry.” She wasn't even sure what she was most sorry for, but she felt guilty about something— and it wouldn't go away. 

 

“You don't have to worry about him.” It wasn't just reassurance. “I promise you that.”

 

One day at a time. That was all she could do. 

 

---

 

 

June 20th - 3 days later

 

The door clicked softly behind Leon as he stepped into the apartment. In the stillness that greeted him, he could only hear the soft sound of paws against the floor.  

 

Rex greeted him, tail wagging with sleepy enthusiasm. Leon crouched down, his hand reaching out to rub the dog's head, a low sigh as he struggled to leave the weight of new scars outside the door. 

 

“You've been taking care of her?” he mumbled, smiling warmly at the tired eyes.

 

As if answering, Rex trotted off towards the bedroom, eager to return to the spot he had claimed as his post while Leon was gone. 

 

It was too early for Claire to be awake on a Saturday, so it was no surprise when her sleeping form was the first thing he saw when he entered the bedroom— though it didn't stop the way it tugged at his heart. 

 

For a moment he just watched the steady rise and fall of her chest. He was always prepared for the chaos, but he never got quite used to the peace. 

 

His steps were careful, but they were heavier than the moment called for. Once he reached her, his hand found her face, gently brushing back her hair. There was no intention of waking her up, but he couldn't ignore how his heart felt lighter as her lips parted in a soft sigh. 

 

It only took a few seconds for her eyes to flutter, still clouded with sleep but more aware once she realized he was back.

 

“Hey.” A warm, barely-there smile graced her face. 

 

“Hey,” he said back. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, not meaning to crowd her, but he needed to be close. “You doing okay?”

 

“I'm just glad you're back.”

 

He watched as she shifted beneath the covers with a bit more effort. Her eyes had already noticed all the things he hadn't yet shaken off— they always did.

 

“You should go back to sleep,” he suggested, trailing a hand over her arm. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

 

Claire shook her head slightly. “I've slept enough these days. I'd rather have you around.”

 

She tried to pass it off as a good thing, although in reality she had slept to avoid the unwanted thoughts that plagued her.

 

Leon hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on her and recognizing her silence question, her plea for him to come back. Because it was never the same. There was always a part that stayed behind, even if the rest of him was physically here. 

 

“C'mere,” she urged gently, pulling the covers back. “Lie down with me.” It wasn't an order, but he couldn't have said no even if he tried. 

 

The bed felt warm, inviting, and as soon as he laid down beside her, it was almost enough to send everything else to the back of his mind. 

 

Almost.

 

Claire moved as close to him as she could get, resting her head on his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart melt away the days they'd been apart. But as she reached her hand to rest under his chest, she noticed the new lines of scars. Too fresh to be from previous times. 

 

When she pulled back the hem of his shirt, he didn't protest, simply helped her lift it over his head. They'd been here countless times before. And as always, he let her fuss, because it was easier to let her distract herself this way. Because he knew she needed, now more than ever, to know she was able to care for the people she loved. 

 

“I'm fine,” he assured her. 

 

She didn't reply at first, but her hand moved again, this time a little more deliberate, tracing the lines of his body, careful and gentle. 

 

Fingertips ghosted over fresh bruises, touch charged despite being featherlight. The worry, the ache they never voiced out loud. 

 

“Never said you weren't,” she finally answered, just above a whisper.

 

Leon exhaled, his hand coming up to rest over hers, halting her movements. “It's not as bad as it looks.”

 

“You always say that.”

 

“And I'm always right,” he countered, a warm smirk on his face.

 

Claire huffed softly, but her lips twitched, betraying the way he broke through her worries every time. She laid back down, chin propped on his shoulder as she spoke inches away from his face. “You're not invincible, Leon.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you?” She already knew the answer. They'd been over this. He wasn't invincible, but he couldn't stop either. “Because every time you leave, I—” She cut herself off, because saying it felt realer than she could bear. 

 

He shifted slightly, just enough to cup her cheek before letting his hand settle at the base of her neck. “I'm here, Claire. I cannot promise I won't leave, but I can promise I will always come back.”

 

“Let's just not talk about it,” she said, thinking that maybe she'd said too much. 

 

Leon nodded, willing to let it go even if she'd brought it up. Maybe ignoring it wasn't a good idea, but reasoning with her wasn't something he wanted to do— especially because her wishes for him to stay were mutual. But it wasn't his choice. 

 

His hand ran along her back, settling over her hip. “Come on, let's get some food in you,” he said. “I'll make breakfast.”

 

Claire propped herself up just enough to look at him. “You just got back. You should be resting, not cooking.”

 

“I don't mind.”

 

She gave him a pointed look, putting her hand over his cheek. “I'll do it.”

 

“Will you just let me do something nice for you once in your life?” he asked with a gentle smile, already sliding out of bed. 

 

Despite rolling her eyes, she didn't argue— he wouldn't back down. So, she followed him into the kitchen, Rex hot on her toes.

 

“He hasn't left my side these days,” she mentioned, leaning down to scratch behind the dog's ears.

 

“They're smart. I think he knows you need a little extra attention.”

 

Everything seemed at peace. They settled into the familiar rhythm of breakfast, shifting between topics that didn't take too much out of them.

 

“I've gotta say,” Claire said in between bites. “You do know how to make a pancake.”

 

Leon smirked, leaning back slightly as he watched Claire eat. “Greatest compliment a man can get, I'd say.”

 

“It is,” she agreed. Then, she stood up, opening his fridge and scanning it until she found what she was looking for. 

 

She returned to the table, a bottle of mustard in hand, drizzling a generous amount on top of her breakfast.

 

“That's new,” he commented, an amused twinkle in his eye as he watched her. 

 

“Don't knock it 'till you try it.”

 

Leon chuckled softly, taking a sip of his coffee. “I'll take your word for it.”

 

“You're missing out, Kennedy,” she teased, lifting up her fork and taking another bite.

 

“I think I'll pass.” 

 

Food was eaten quietly for a while, without any attempt on either part to conceal that they'd both had a shitty week. But as she ate, Claire's thoughts went back to a day she'd rather forget. Revisiting it wasn't nice, but not mentioning it felt like keeping a secret. And she didn't want to do that.

 

As if he had some secret power to read her mind, Leon set his coffee down, analyzing her as if he was waiting for her to say something he'd already figured out. “You okay?”

 

But he had no idea.

 

Claire met his eyes, pushing the last of her food back with the fork. “I ran into Jack the other day. Well… he was waiting for me outside of work.”

 

The reaction was immediate. 

 

Leon’s posture, once relaxed, tensed just slightly, fingers tightening around his mug in a way that looked a little too controlled. Their anger had always been the opposite. Where Claire's was explosive, his was quiet— but not less dangerous. 

 

“What did he want?”

 

“To be a pain in the ass… I don't know.” She inhaled deeply, brushing it off like it'd just been another wednesday.

 

The air seemed to thicken with the reminder. They could pretend all they wanted; nothing about it was simple. 

 

No words came out of Leon's mouth for a few seconds, but there was no need— Claire knew exactly what was going on through his head. The threat hung on his lips, a promise to handle Jack himself. But when he finally spoke, his voice was measured.

 

“Did he hurt you?”

 

Claire pinched the bridge of her nose, not sure if she wanted to be honest or just shield them from the worst of it. “He kissed me. I punched him.”

 

That made him freeze.

 

His knuckles turned white, and for a split second Claire wondered if he would actually break. 

 

“He what ?” His voice was dangerously quiet. 

 

Claire let out a sharp exhale, pressing her fingertips to her temple. “Leon—”

 

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head as he pushed back from the table. “No, don't try to downplay this.”

 

“I'm not—”

 

“Yeah, you are.” His chair scraped against the floor as he stood, pacing like he was trying to physically shake off the anger simmering under his skin. “He waited for you. He cornered you. That's not just being a pain in the ass, Claire— that's stalking. That's harassment.” His jaw tightened. “And then he kisses you?”

 

Claire crossed her arms, her own frustration bubbling up. “And I hit him,” she shot back. “I handled it.”

 

“That's not the point.”

 

“Then what is the point?” she snapped, built up stress and frustration mingled in her tone. “That I should've called you? That I should've let you storm down there and take care of it for me? I don't need you to go full vigilante on him. I just… I just needed to tell you.”

 

“That's not what I'm trying to do.”

 

His body was practically vibrating with the need to do something— to fix it somehow, to make sure Jack never got within a mile of her again. But violence was a way both of them were reluctant to bring into their lives, not when so much was tainted by it.

 

“You're acting like I'm trying to let him get away with it,” she argued. “I wish I could've done more, but I can't exactly go kicking him around anymore, can I?”

 

“You shouldn't have to do anything, Claire.” His eyes looked her over. She was still herself, still stubborn. But she was also right… There were a lot of things she couldn't do now— part of her frustration, no doubt. “It shouldn't have happened in the first place.”

 

“Well, it did.” She shook her head. “And I dealt with it.”

 

Not how she wanted to, that went without saying. 

 

Silence stretched between them, thick with everything neither of them knew how to say. Claire's fingers twitched at her sides, and Leon forced himself to relax his hands before they ended up in fists. 

 

With a deep breath, Claire spoke again, looking away like she was already done with it. “Look, I don't— I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

 

Leon's eyes snapped back to hers, but the wall was already up.

 

“Claire—”

 

“No,” she cut him off. “I just needed to tell you. Now I have.” 

 

There was a finality in her words that he couldn't push past. Every instinct screamed that letting this go was wrong. Arguing with her had always been hard. But now? Impossible. He wasn't sure if space was what she needed, but she was asking for it. 

 

So, he didn't push.

 

“Okay.”

 

Claire turned away without another word, grabbing her plate and bringing it to the sink. The clatter of dishes filled the space where their conversation had been. He watched her for a while, how she frustratedly loaded the dishwasher, walking off to his room without a word after. 

 

They'd let it go. But it was far from over. 

 

---

 

A couple of hours passed in uneasy silence. Leon had tried to keep busy, but his mind kept returning to Claire. They couldn't just sweep this under the rug. 

 

Eventually he made his way to the bedroom. The door was cracked open, and he found her there, her back to him as she made the bed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her do that. She always let it go, but today, it seemed just like the right distraction.

 

Her movements halted for a second when she heard him come in. She looked up briefly, eyes narrowing in mild annoyance when she saw him. 

 

“Hey,” he said quietly, standing in the doorway. “Can we talk?”

 

Claire didn’t answer right away. She just looked at him, a faint flicker of defensiveness in her eyes. It was the way she always was when she didn’t want to show how much something had affected her. She wasn’t angry at him, but she was closing herself off.

 

He stepped further into the room, careful not to crowd her. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words slipping out with a heaviness he hadn’t intended. “I'm not sorry for being angry at him, Claire. I am angry at what he did to you. And I'm sorry if it came off like I was trying to take over."

 

She set the blanket down, her hands pressing into the fabric as she turned to face him fully. There was something softer in her expression now, though still cautious, still a little distant.

 

“You don’t have to apologize,” she muttered. “It’s fine.”

 

But it wasn’t, not really.

 

Leon tilted his head slightly, searching her face. “I don’t want this to turn into something it doesn’t have to be.”

 

A small sigh left her lips, rolling her shoulders. She didn't apologize— not outright. That wasn't her way. But he saw the subtle shift in her face, and that was all the apology he needed.

 

“It's fine,” she repeated. “I shouldn't have snapped at you.”

 

And out of all the things she could worry about, making him feel bad wasn't the one he wanted her fussing about. “I think you get a free pass.”

 

That earned him an eye roll, but the tightness in her stance ease just a fraction more. She shifted on her feet, looking at him as if she was debating whether or not to reach for him. 

 

So he made the choice for her. 

 

Slowly, carefully, he closed the space between them, wrapping his arms around her. She resisted just for a second, but then she exhaled, her body melting against his hold. Her arms came up around his back, holding on to him like she was scared to admit just how much she felt like she needed him— maybe that was the real issue all along. 

 

Even hugging him was different now.

 

She huffed against his shoulder, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “You're gonna have to start hugging me from the side soon.”

 

The tension in the room was finally loosening. “Yeah? Guess I'll have to get used to that.”

 

They both laughed, easy but enough to settle in their bones. And for a moment everything felt normal— good, even. Like nothing had changed, and yet, everything had.

 

Leon looked down at her warmly, his hands resting on her hips. Claire didn't pull away, her fingers curled against his back as he pressed his lips to hers, warm and steady. 

 

As they stayed close, the quiet sound of their breathing was the only thing enveloping them. And suddenly, Leon felt a light, unmistakable pressure against his abdomen, pulling back slightly. 

 

Claire smiled at his reaction, searching his face for anything. “You want to feel her?”

 

Although his heart skipped, his hands remained still for a second. It was a vulnerable kind of thing— a part of her, of them, he wasn't quite sure he had a place in. His fingers hovered near where her own hand had drifted down to.

 

Claire noticed the hesitation, and her smile softened. The corners of her lips turned up with something almost teasing, but there was an undeniable warmth in her eyes. “You can,” she said, her voice a little softer, the edges of it almost tender. “I think she’s awake.”

 

He moved his hand over hers, pausing for a beat before he gently pressed his palm against her belly, just where she had placed hers. The warmth of her skin, the steady rhythm of her breathing—it all felt incredibly real. And then, it happened.

 

She watched his reaction, the way his lips parted slightly, brows pulling together in something caught between awe and disbelief. Her smile grew, soft and knowing. “Feels weird, huh?”

 

Leon let out a breath, barely above a whisper. “Yeah… It’s unreal.”

 

But it was real. It was happening— faster than they could both keep up with. And it hit him, not for the first time, everything it truly meant.

 

His hand lingered, fingers splayed wide against the warmth of her skin. She was carrying a life that had nothing to do with him, and yet, against all reason, he couldn’t help but feel it was his in some small, impossible way.

 

There was something in the way Claire was watching him. Really watching him. It made his throat go dry and his heart feel heavier. Made his whole existence feel heavier.  

 

She wasn't asking him for anything. She never had. Not for promises, not for anything more than what he had already given. She had let him in without expectations except a shoulder to cry on and a drive back home. He'd come back into her life unexpectedly. Messy. He had been her anchor when she needed one. But this—this was different. 

 

Being there for her now meant a line he didn't know how to cross. A role he didn't know how to step into. Not because he didn't want to. God, he wanted it more than he'd ever allowed himself to dream about. He had driven himself crazy thinking about all the ways things could've been different. The ways in which this could've been theirs.

 

It all lead to a truth they'd learned long ago. He could never be in her life without being fully in it. 

 

And it wasn't just hers anymore.

 

Notes:

Guysssss, we're officially halfway through the story.

I never imagined I'd write fanfiction but I'm really glad I started. What a wild ride it's been.

Also, I'm curious to hear your name predictions, if you have any. I already decided what it’s gonna be but nothing's set in stone.

I am, as always, eager to hear your thoughts.

Chapter 9: I couldn't stay, I'd only bring you pain

Summary:

Sometimes it's hard to face reality.

Notes:

Hiiiii. Guys, I really didn't mean to not update this for so long, I'm so sorry. 😞 I started my second year in Uni and it's been kinda stressful, but I promise you the show will go on. I've been dreading writing this chapter, but I did tell you we have angst.

Don't worry, though. Everything will fall in place. Lots of love, and endless gratefulness for your support and patience. <33

4th of July - 14 days later

 

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the colourful backyard, decorated red, white and blue for the occasion. The smell of grilled burgers and smoked ribs clung to the warm summer air, blending with the sounds of laughter and casual conversation. It was easy, unburdened.

 

The kind of day Claire didn’t think she’d had in forever. 

 

She adjusted the hem of her sundress, feeling the stretch of fabric a little tighter. No longer something she could hide— not that she wanted to anymore.

 

Still, there was something unnerving about how familiar-yet-distant it all felt. The faces around her, many she hadn't seen in ages, greeted her with warmth, smiles filled with the kind of blissful ignorance that made her chest tighten. There were congratulations, well wishes, laughter. 

 

For a moment, though not for the first time, she closed her eyes and indulged in a fantasy that had no place in her reality. A world where the red of their flag wasn’t stained with blood. Where fireworks weren’t laced with memories of gunfire. 

 

But there were no fireworks in BSAA parties. 

 

And in the place where Claire would’ve been a lifetime ago, now Jill took her place— challenging the toughest of guys to beat her in darts. 

 

Claire watched, curled up in a lounge chair, warm, a little drowsy from the heat, and full of something she couldn’t quite place. Nostalgia. Uncertainty. 

 

A sudden throat clearing pulled her from her thoughts. She turned, finding Chris standing beside her— drenched from head to toe.

 

“You lose a bet, or what?” she asked, raising a brow, though not particularly surprised.

 

Chris exhaled sharply before dropping into the chair beside her, handing her an unopened bottle of water. “Something like that.”

 

She accepted it with a grateful hum, twisting off the cap and taking a sip that felt like heaven on her throat. The sudden cheer of a small crowd caught her attention— Jill had won, as expected.

 

Chris remained quiet, staring ahead, clearly picking through a dozen things he wanted to say but wasn’t sure how.

 

“I’m sure you could still take them if you wanted to,” he finally said, a small smirk playing at his lips.

 

Claire mirrored it, tilting her head. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But I’d rather not be on my feet any longer than I have to.”

 

“Fair,” he nodded. A pause. “How’re you feeling?”

 

She waved him off instinctively, because it was second nature— had been for years. “I’m fine. Just hot as hell.”

 

Chris hummed, glancing toward the house. “If you need to rest, I can ask Grace if there’s a room inside—” 

 

And there it was. That gentle, careful way everyone had started speaking to her. Perhaps something she would’ve appreciated— if she wasn’t so afraid it meant they didn’t think she could do it alone. 

 

She was thirty now. Wouldn’t roll her eyes and make hurtful comments like she would’ve at fifteen. She understood better than ever— what it meant to care about someone so much the mere thought of them struggling was disarming. 

 

But still— “Chris, for fuck’s sake. I’m not made of glass. Can you please relax a little?”

 

Her mouth was quicker than her reason, too familiar— suddenly she was seventeen again, snapping at him for fussing over bloody knuckles.

 

His smile didn’t give her time to feel bad about it, not that she would’ve anyway. “Alright, alright.” He let out a small chuckle. “But if you need anything—” 

 

“I’ll tell you,” she finished for him, shaking her head with a soft huff, though they both knew she wouldn’t.

 

Chris took a long sip from his beer, glancing around the yard. “I thought Leon was coming with you.”

 

It wasn’t a strange assumption. Wherever she was it wasn’t unlikely to find him a few feet away. 

 

“Got called into a last minute meeting,” she said, strategically avoiding her brother’s gaze, afraid he’d see the disappointment she didn’t want to show. “He’ll be here as soon as it’s over.” 

 

Chris let out a soft hum, watching as she absentmindedly rubbed the small of her back. He took another drink, glancing towards the ongoing dart game for a beat before looking back at her.

 

He’d always been good at reading her, especially when she tried not to be. She was upset, yes. But not at Leon; just the fact he wasn’t there. 

 

“Things seem to be going well for you two.” It was an observation as much as it was a question.

 

Claire smiled, almost imperceptible, her fingers moving to the swell of her stomach. “Yeah, I guess they are.” 

 

Sure enough, after a moment of him not saying anything, she sighed. “I just wonder if it’s the best, y’know… falling back into it just cause it feels right.” 

 

“I think he makes you happy.” 

 

Her lips pressed together, something thoughtful behind her eyes. “He does.”

 

“It’s just…” She hesitated, eyes flicking briefly towards the house, like she was expecting Leon to walk through the door any second. “I think it might be too much for him.” 

 

Chris frowned. “Have you talked about it?”

 

“Not really,” she admitted. “You know how we are.” 

 

“Of course…” 

 

A small smile graced her lips, but it faded quickly.

 

“I think he’s afraid he’ll get used to it. I think I’m afraid I’ll get used to it.” 

 

“You’re way past being used to it, Claire. Aren’t you living together?”

 

That made her pause. Truly, she didn’t know. “We still have our own places… we just stay over a lot, I guess.”

 

“My point exactly.” 

 

“I'm thinking of moving, anyway,” she said, casually as if she was talking about the weather. In reality it terrified her. “I just… after everything, I guess part of me is still scared.” 

 

He didn’t need to ask what she meant. It truly was everything. Jack. The baby. Leon. Their breakup had been messy— quietly devastating in a way neither of them had really talked about. For over a year they had circled around each other, too far to reach out, but too intertwined to let go.

 

But things were different now. More complicated. More delicate. 

 

“You got any names picked out?” He asked before she could go further into her mind. He wished he could help her more, but communication had never run in their blood. 

 

Claire chuckled, the heaviness in her chest easing slightly. “Maybe.” 

 

“Oh, come on, don’t be a pain in the ass. Tell me.” 

 

“You’ll just have to be patient, Chris.” 

 

He shook his head. “Look who’s talking.”

 

She laughed, feigning offense. “I’m very patient.” 

 

“Right… you’re telling me you’re not losing your mind now that you’re off field work?”

 

Claire huffed, shaking her head. “Lots of things need to be done from the base, too.” 

 

“I don’t doubt it, it’s just— not your thing.” 

 

She sighed but didn’t argue. Truth was, she wasn’t sure field work was her thing either. Anyone who saw so much violence as her brother did was forced to live with it forever. And anyone who witnessed the aftermath of it was left with no peace either— she knew that all too well. 

 

But how could she do anything else? How could she ever think about a normal job? Didn’t mean it hadn’t been a big adjustment, slowing down. 

 

“I mean, I know it’s temporary,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “And it’s not like there aren’t lots of things that need to be done, but…” 

 

“I get it.” 

 

A beat of silence. A knowing glance passed between them. They all got it— the general aspects of it at least. Still, it was easy to say when he wasn’t the one who’s life was being rearranged from the inside out. Quite literally. 

 

But she wasn’t sure how to say it all without sounding like she resented any of it. Because she didn’t.

 

It was just different.

 

---

 

The evening had mercifully taken the scorching heat with it, though the flush in her skin remained. She pulled her hair up, letting the cooler air hit the back of her neck.

 

The day had been good. A much needed distraction. 

 

Splashing cold water on her face, she let it drip down her skin for a moment before reaching for a hand towel. The noise of the party was softer from here.

 

She stepped out into the hallway, making her way to the crowded living room. The sun was slowly making its way down, although it was way past seven, and the aching need to go home had started to settle deep in her bones. 

 

And, of course, with the timing of an answer to her prayers, there he was. 

 

Claire studied him quietly, the way he  stood near the railing, half-listening to a man she barely recognized. Or at least, the man was talking. Leon looked slightly distracted. Present but not really there. 

 

He was still in his work clothes, dark slacks and the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up to his elbows. His tie was discarded, probably laying on the floor of his car, as if shedding it would make him feel less out of place here.

 

Whatever he had just come back from hadn’t quite left his mind.

 

Before she could dwell on it, his gaze flickered past the crowd and landed on her. 

 

And just like that, he seemed to be back. His expression, drawn tight only seconds ago, melted into something she recognized as only hers. 

 

She smiled back, lifting a hand in a small wave, as if she hadn’t seen him in the morning.

 

Leon huffed a quiet laugh and gave a small wave in return. Politely he excused himself from the conversation and made his way to her.

 

When he reached her, he exhaled, as if her presence alone allowed him to breathe easier. “Hey,” he said. His voice was tired, she knew it would be before he even spoke. 

 

Claire smiled up at him, fingers grazing his wrist before slipping down to squeeze his hand. “Hey, yourself.” 

 

He was warm, always a little warmer than her, and she could feel the way his fingers curled around hers. 

 

“Long meeting?” She asked.

 

The thought still lingered— how easy it was now, how natural, that he was here because she had asked him to be. It reminded her of all the times she’d hoped to run into him, to prove how much better she was doing without him. It all felt so shallow now. 

 

Leon leaned against the wall, still holding onto her hand. “Same old thing.”

 

They quietly observed the rest of the people. His hand tightened around hers for a brief moment before he let go, instead moving his arm behind her shoulders.

 

His touch was soft, but there was something else beneath it, something heavier. She recognized it instantly— an unspoken apology for not being there earlier, for the exhaustion he couldn’t shake. And most of all, for the things they weren’t saying. 

 

Claire leaned into him, just enough to let him know she understood. That she wasn’t mad. 

 

“I missed you,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

 

It was stupid, how much she’d come to miss him too, how her heart skipped a beat when his eyes searched hers like he’d been waiting all day to see her. 

 

“You saw me this morning.” 

 

“I know,” he answered with a smile, like he still hadn't made up for all the time he spent actually missing her.

 

And he was looking at her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. A responsibility she couldn’t get used to, but didn’t want to let go of either.

It should have been reassuring. But there was something else beneath it, lurking even when they thought they could let it go.

 

Guilt.

 

She didn’t know if it was his or hers. Maybe both.

 

Chris spotted them first, nudging Jill as they made their way through the crowd. His expression shifted into something knowing when he saw Claire tucked against Leon's side. 

 

“Glad you could make it,” he said, clapping Leon on the shoulder as they reached them. 

 

“Wouldn't miss it.” 

 

Jill nodded at him, eyes flickering between them with her usual care. “Would've thought the White House would throw a better party than us.”

 

Leon exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Maybe for the guests. I would've been working.” 

 

“Well, then–” Jill tipped her glass towards him– “let's be glad you're here with us instead.”

 

“I think we're a lot more fun than any men in the White House,” Claire said, studying the way the slightest mention of work made his shoulders tense; felt it when she placed her hand on his back. She wished she could take some of it off for him– off of Chris and Jill too. 

 

“Yeah, you sure are.”

 

Chris set his empty drink down with a dull thud, moving to grab a new one from the cooler. “You want anything?”

 

“Tempting, but I'm good,” Leon answered with a polite smile. 

 

Chris raised an eyebrow but said nothing, grabbing two beers for him and Jill. 

 

“Alright, I need food before I regret drinking on an empty stomach,” Jill complained as she took the bottle.

 

“Yeah, good call.” 

 

Before they turned around, Claire reached for his unopened drink, hooking the edge of the cap against the side of the kitchen aisle, sending it flying with the ease that came with practice. 

 

Jill snorted, shaking her head as she handed over her bottle too. “Still got it in you, huh?”

 

Claire chuckled, handing back their drinks. “Apparently.”

 

“Someone's gotta be useful around here,” Leon said, whistling in approval.

 

“Someone likes being a show-off,” Chris countered, shaking his head in amusement.

 

Claire rolled her eyes, feigning offence. “You're just jealous.”

 

“Leave him be,” Jill waved off with her hand. “He's still in denial you're old enough to drink.”

 

That earned a laugh out of them, even Chris. He did tend to forget his sister wasn't a kid anymore. Hadn't been for a long time. 

 

Chris shook his head, sighing fondly. “I'm just glad someone's gonna finally give you as many gray hairs as you've given me.”

 

Claire smiled, because she knew what he meant– had understood it better in six months than the twenty-nine years before that. Still, she'd never quite voiced it out loud– how scared she was to have a daughter like herself.

 

The laughter faded as Chris and Jill wandered off to grab some food, leaving Claire and Leon standing by the kitchen. She glanced at Leon, who was watching her with an all too familiar gaze. 

 

“You wanna sit down?” she asked, breaking the moment before it could settle too deep. 

 

“Yeah. You okay?” 

 

She smiled, soft but reassuring. “Just a bit tired.” 

 

Honestly, she didn't really mind. Her body had been kind enough to give her a good day. But she could feel his exhaustion like an extension of her own– the need to focus on something that wasn't his own mind. 

 

They settled in a loveseat by the TV, surrounded enough that it felt private. Claire sank onto the couch with a quiet sigh, rolling her shoulders. Leon sat beside her, knees brushing against each other, but he didn't move closer. 

 

Claire tapped her fingers against his thigh. “So, what was the meeting about?”

 

He sighed, looking away before meeting her gaze, like he was debating something. “Nothing interesting. Just the usual bullshit, nothing worth worrying about.”

 

As likely as that was, the itch to not let it go had already settled within her. It'd always been this way with them, always brushing things off, always downplaying them. If she didn't know him so well she might just believe him when he says he's fine.

 

“Always the same, isn't it?” she sighed, sharper than intended. Denial setting once again like an invisible wall between them. 

 

Leon's gaze flickered towards her. “Claire–”

 

“Just once,” she interrupted, “I'd like to decide for myself if it's worth worrying over.”

 

It was never a fight– they didn't have the energy for those anymore. But it wasn't nothing either. She wasn't better than he was. Neither of them knew how to fix it, but they'd never had to face it. 

 

Leon exhaled, slow and measured. He ran a hand over his face but he didn't move to answer. 

 

He couldn't answer. 

 

She crossed her arms, settling deeper into the couch. “I get that some things are classified, I'm just asking you for trust.”

 

“I trust you with my life.” 

 

Not for a second did she doubt that. But she had spent so long trying to convince herself it was enough. That she could live with that– live with the uncertainty, the waiting, the never fully knowing. 

 

It was getting old. Too uncertain for a time when she was deadly afraid of not having control. 

 

“Let's just– we'll talk about it later.”

 

Claire huffed, shaking her head, They never did. “Will we, really? Or will you just brush it off when I try to bring it up again?”

 

Leon sighed, rubbing his face as he thought of what he could even say. “I don't–”

 

“Y'know they're supposed to give you a break between these things, you're supposed to be resting, not going to stupid meetings–”

 

“And what do you expect me to do?” he cut her off, his voice edged with frustration he didn't mean to direct at her. It wasn't much. Barely a snap. But she felt it like a blow, throat dry as though her body had physically absorbed his words.

 

And Leon knew it too, because the second she pulled her hand away from his leg, he felt its absence. The guilt in his expression was immediate, but what was there to say? It wasn't the first time they'd been here.

 

She wasn't angry, not really. 

 

But she was tired, an exhaustion she didn't even know was possible. And he was scared. 

 

Neither of them knew what to do about it.

 

Her mind raced, no thought landing enough to make sense. That's just the way it was lately, everything felt twice as monumental. 

 

What were they doing? How long before it ate them alive?

 

“Hey, Claire!” a voice cut through her thoughts. 

 

Vivian , Claire thought. One of Chris's friends. She approached them with an easy expression, looking between them and completely missing the tension seconds ago. “Just wanted to say congratulations.”

 

Claire forced a smile, her fingers trailing over her dress. The words were appreciated, but landed on ears too occupied by unwelcome thoughts. “Thanks.”

 

Vivian smiled, looking between them.  No one asked questions; they simply filled in the gaps themselves. Because why wouldn't the man so attuned to her every move be the one to share the joy with her? 

 

“You’ll be great parents,”  she said. "Cherish every minute, it goes faster than you can keep up.” She offered them a nod before walking away. Neither of them corrected her, maybe they didn't want to– maybe they couldn't get the words past their throats. 

 

Leon, to his credit, didn't react– a loud act by itself. He wasn't looking at Claire, but she could feel him, could feel the already heavy weight on his shoulders getting harder to carry. 

 

A shaky breath escaped her lips, trying to force her shoulders to relax, but it didn't work. Everything felt too loud, too bright, too much. The distant sound of fireworks in the sky made her hands clench. 

 

Boom after boom, almost enough to shut up the part of her she didn't want to acknowledge tonight. It was suffocating. 

 

He must have sensed it too, slowly standing up and nodding towards the house. “Come on,” he said, his voice soft. “Let's go get some fresh air, yeah?”

 

Claire nodded, annoyance mixed with guilt, that he still knew when she needed this, that he was willing to put things aside. Annoyance that she enjoyed being taken care of for once. 

 

Outside, the air was still warm, still thick, but it was easier to breathe. The night sky above lit up with all the wrong colors. They walked alongside the porch, until they found a secluded enough spot in the garden.

 

She leaned against the porch railing, running a hand over her face like it could wipe off her exhaustion. 

 

He turned towards her, his hand hesitantly settling on her back, something like relief on his chest when she didn't pull away. In his own way, he was asking for forgiveness.

 

“What are we doing?” she muttered, her voice impossibly quiet, but she knew Leon had heard her. 

 

He wasn't sure if she wanted him to answer the question or not, though he didn't think he'd have the answer anyway. 

 

“I don't know, Claire,” he admitted just as quietly as she had. 

 

She felt his fingers twitch against the small of her back, hesitant, like they ached to hold her, like he wasn't sure if he deserved to. 

 

“I don't either.”

 

It would be so much easier if she didn't love him. She didn't think about it. She couldn't.

 

She turned towards him, eyes searching his for any clue about what to do. His gaze met hers, searching, conflicted. Loving.

 

Because of course it was love. That was never the question.

 

He barely had a second to react before she kissed him, hands tangling in his hair like she'd never get to see him again. 

 

Leon didn't hesitate. The moment Claire's lips met his, his arms wrapped around her as tightly as he dared. 

 

He kissed her like he had something to prove, something to make up for. All the words left unsaid, all the time wasted, all the things they buried because neither of them knew how to face them. It was desperate and hungry, full of everything they didn't say out loud.

 

Claire clung to him just as tightly, her fingers tangling in his hair, her breath hitching as he deepened the kiss. It was reckless, selfish, but she needed this—needed to feel him, to remind herself that whatever else was crumbling around them, this was real. This had always been real.

 

For a moment they could forget the circumstances around them, could pretend they were back in times when passion was enough. It didn't fix anything but still felt like the only answer that mattered.

 

Leon was the first to slow down, his lips parting from hers just enough to whisper her name. Claire made a sound of protest, trying to pull him back in, but he exhaled sharply and rested his forehead against hers, hands lingering, unwilling to fully let go.

 

They stood there for a moment, her hands smoothing over the wrinkles in his shirt, breaths still uneven.

 

Finally, Leon huffed a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. "We should probably—"

 

"Yeah," Claire agreed before he could finish.

 

He stepped back first, his hands lingering just a second longer before he let them drop. The loss of his warmth made her shiver, even in the summer air.

 

It's what they did. It's what they'd always done. They didn't have the words to talk about it even if they wanted to. 

 

“You wanna head back?” he asked faintly, not specifying where– because neither of them was brave enough to say home . 

 

Claire nodded. 

 

Like always, they hadn't said what they'd really meant.

 

Chris and Jill were near the living room, deep in conversation with colleagues Claire didn't recognize. She hesitated for a second, torn between wanting to just slip out and knowing she had to say something. 

 

Jill was the first to notice them. “You heading out?”

 

“Yeah.” Claire nodded. “My feet are killing me.” 

 

“Get some rest, Claire,” Chris chimed in, lacking the teasing edge he usually had. 

 

“Take care of yourself, okay?” Jill squeezed her shoulder sympathetically, simply shooting Leon a knowing look. 

 

He only nodded, a silent promise in his eyes. 

 

Chris clapped Leon on the shoulder, grip just firm enough to be a warning. “Take her home safe.”

 

Leon met his gaze, unwavering. Amongst all his uncertainty that was the one thing he could wholeheartedly promise. “Always.”

 

Claire didn't say anything as they stepped outside. Whatever they had to say would have to wait until they didn't feel so dead, but his hand gripped hers and she remembered how nice it was to be taken care of. 

 

The drive back was quiet. Not tense, just… quiet. Claire's head rested against the cool window, watching the lights outside, the cars beside them– could feel him glancing from time to time. 

 

---

 

 

The second they stepped inside, Rex was there. He didn't barrel into them like a younger dog might, but he circled Claire excitedly, brushing against her legs before nudging his head under her hand. 

 

Claire huffed a tired laugh, scratching behind his ears. “Hey, boy. You miss us?”

 

Rex let out a soft whine, almost scolding them for arriving so late.

 

“We weren't even gone that long, buddy.” Leon smirked, leaning down to pet him too. 

 

He put his keys on the kitchen counter, folding the blazer he'd left in the car and placing it over the couch. Claire watched him attentively, assessing just how present he was. He turned back to her, his hands settling on her shoulders, squeezing them gently. “Let's get you settled in.”

 

He led her to the bedroom, and she began taking off her shoes, letting the cool floor against her bare feet soothe the ache in her bones. She made her way to the bathroom, brushing her teeth with the brush she'd left over months ago, washing her face with his soap.

 

Meanwhile, he opened the drawer and pulled out two of the shirts he usually slept in, one for her, one for him, setting them on the bed and moving next to her in front of the mirror. 

 

It was such a domestic scene. It wasn't even out of the ordinary now. Most of the nights he wasn't away had been spent exactly like this. It was a glimpse of the past. To the future? They could only hope so.

 

Claire didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to spend another night wondering if she had a right to imagine him in a life with her– with them. Would it be fair to him? Would it be fair to her daughter, who had no choice but to deal with the life Claire gave her?

 

She was too afraid to wonder. 

 

She peeled off the dress, putting on the shirt he'd laid out for her instead. 

 

The bed was unmade, because neither of them minded. It smelled like him, except the left side that now smelled of her. She settled against the pillows, watching as he changed, leaving their dirty clothes in the corner before walking out to the kitchen. 

 

When he came back, he set a glass of water on her nightstand, turned on the bedside lamp and turned off the big light. He climbed in beside her, close enough for their legs to brush under the covers. Still, he hesitated, unsure if she wanted to be held, if she was still upset. 

 

Claire sighed, rolling onto her side as much as she could, watching him until he turned his head. She wasn't even sure what reassurance she was asking for, but she needed it. 

 

His hand reached for her cheek, pushing back a stray hair. He leaned forward just enough to kiss her forehead,  watching her eyes flutter as she fought sleep. 

 

“Goodnight, Claire.”

 

It was better to say nothing, he'd learned. The wrong thing could be very wrong these days. 

 

It didn't take long for her breathing to even out, for her hand to fall against her side. She looked so at peace like this, so unaware of the thoughts that kept him awake. How could he have been so stupid. 

 

The same weight he always carried settled even heavier on his chest. He should've told her the second he knew it was a possibility. He should've sat her down, been honest with her, given her time to react. But he hadn't.

 

He unlocked his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen before finally opening his inbox. 

 

The email was near the top, waiting in bold letters. He already knew what it would say. 

 

Confirmation: Deployment scheduled for July 13th. 

 

Nine days. 

 

There was no need to read the rest of it, he'd already been briefed in person. It was everything he expected– long, dangerous, and far away. Too far. 

 

He swallowed hard, locking his phone and setting it face-down on the nightstand. 

 

Tomorrow. He'd tell her tomorrow. 

 

Maybe. 

 

For now, he just laid back, tracing over her features in the dim light. He counted the freckles on her cheeks, the way her lips parted slightly as she breathed. 

 

He loved her. He always had. 

 

He could run away from many things, but he couldn't run away from that. 

 

From the moment he'd let her go to the moment he'd seen her on that rooftop again, he knew if he ever got the chance to have her again, he'd never let her go. And yet, sometimes he wondered if it was the kindest thing he could do. 

 

He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over the curve of her stomach before pulling back, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed.

 

On the stillness that was left when she slept, it was his time to wonder how everything could've been different, though he'd never allow himself to go there fully, never let himself linger in it too long. 

 

The images would fill his mind. Birthdays and first steps. All the milestones he could miss just because someone needed him on the other side of the world. 

 

It wasn't fair. But God, he wanted it anyway. 

 

He didn't deserve to have it. 

 

Didn't deserve her. Either of them.

 

Still, here he was. 

 

---

 

 

July 8th- four days later

 

He should've told her by now. He'd tried, more than once, but every time he looked at her, the words stuck in his throat. 

 

When she was in a bad mood he didn't want to add to it. When she was happy, he didn't want to take it from her. She had enough on her plate. He could hold onto this for just a while longer. 

 

Rex's ears perked up before Leon even heard the key turn in the lock. From the moment it had turned to six he'd been waiting for her to come back from work 

 

“Hey,” she said as she entered. She looked tired, expression drawn, but when she met his eyes she smiled just a little. 

 

“Hey,” he replied, standing up as she stepped forward. “You alright?”

 

She hummed noncommittally, already gravitating towards him. That was his first clue. It wasn't that Claire wasn't affectionate, but when she sought him out it usually meant a not-so-good day. And tonight she walked straight into his arms. 

 

He felt her relax against him, and he wondered if she felt at home just as much as he did. 

 

A long moment passed before she let go. Leon watched her, taking in the slight rosiness to her cheeks, the way she sank into the couch with a contented sigh. He followed suit, sitting down beside her. 

 

She leaned back on the pillows, rubbing her belly absentmindedly. "I’ve been looking at apartments,” she said, her fidgeting hands betraying the casualness in her voice. “Somewhere bigger.”

 

Leon’s stomach twisted.

 

He should’ve expected it. Of course she was thinking about moving. The apartment she had now was too small, not built for a baby, and even though she spent most of her time here with him, she hadn’t said anything about this place being permanent.

 

She was planning for a future. And he wasn’t sure how much of it she saw him in. And for all his perceptiveness, he seemed to miss the way she was looking at him and expecting him to say something.

 

“That sounds– yeah, that sounds like a good plan,” 

 

Claire shifted slightly, tugging the blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over herself.

 

“I think, I…” she hesitated, a rare thing for her. “I think I settled on a name.”

 

His eyes widened just a fraction. He hadn't expected that.

 

“Yeah?”

 

She hummed, suddenly almost shy. “Lucy.”

 

Lucy . 

 

“Lucy?”

 

“Oh, you hate it,” Claire teased, and he hadn't even realized the smile that had crept into his face.

 

“I love it,” he said, voice steady despite the emotions brewing inside of him. 

 

She searched his face for a moment before relaxing, a small, pleased smile on her lips. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

He wanted to say more, but where would he even start? Maybe that he loved how the name sounded rolling off her tongue, that he could picture her so clearly. 

 

But instead, he just reached for her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles,  and when her hand squeezed back he knew that for now, that was enough.

 

Claire sighed after a few moments, shifting to sit up. “I left my book in the room.”

 

“You want me to get it?”

 

She shook her head, squeezing his hand and standing. “No, I got it.”

 

The door to his bedroom was half-open. She picked up the book exactly where she'd left it– on the left nightstand, half-tucked beneath the alarm clock. 

 

A sudden notification sound made her gaze shift to the bed. Leon's laptop. Unlocked. 

 

She thought so little of it that when it rang again she looked. She hadn't even meant to pry. The sound had drawn her attention, and then– just like that– it was staring her in the face. 

 

File #8469 - Poland. 07/15/2009

 

She blinked, reading it again, thinking maybe she'd gotten it wrong. Maybe it wasn't what it looked like. Maybe it wasn't so soon. 

 

But it was.

 

It wasn't his regular three-five day briefing. It was far. It was dangerous. Too dangerous. 

 

And he hadn't told her. 

 

A sharp exhale left her lips. Her mind was elsewhere, drowning out the sound of footsteps. She didn't register them until she heard him speak. 

 

“Everything alright?”

 

She startled slightly, fingers instinctively pulling away from the computer. He hadn't figured out what was going on, but when his gaze danced between her and the open inbox, something clicked in his expression. 

 

“Claire.”

 

Just her name. A plea.

 

She stood up fully, ignoring the way it made her head spin. “Were you ever gonna tell me?”

“Yes,” he answered carefully. “I was gonna tell you.”

 

“When you were already halfway across the ocean?” she asked bitterly.

 

It wasn't about him leaving, not more than it was about her being scared. It sucked, she'd always known that was his life. But he'd had time to tell her and he still hadn't. 

 

He stepped closer. “I wasn't trying to hide it from you.”

 

“No? Because it sure fucking feels like you were.”

 

Leon looked at her then, and something about the way she was looking back at him was terrifying. 

 

Below the anger, was hurt– at so many other things besides this. 

 

Claire's voice cracked a little, and she hated it. She didn’t want him to see how much it was eating her up, but she couldn’t help it. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she whispered, the words catching in her throat. She wrapped her arms around herself, a gesture that felt defensive, almost fragile.

 

“You've got enough to deal with, Claire. You–” he stopped himself. “I didn't want to make it harder.”

 

“And you think telling me last minute was gonna make it easier somehow?” she countered, continuing when he didn't move to answer. “Do you hear yourself?”

 

She wasn't yelling, but the way her voice cracked, it hurt more than if she was. 

 

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I just… I didn't want to say it out loud.”

 

A shaky breath escaped her lips, fingers tightening around her arms. She wanted to be angry, wanted to lash out, but she understood the feeling too well. She'd done the same thing when she found out she was pregnant– ignoring it as if maybe that'd make it go away.

 

Leon took a tentative step forward. “I wasn't trying to shut you out.”

 

She looked at him, silently asking him– begging him– for honesty. “It's not just about that.”

 

A silence stretched between them, and feeling suddenly small, she sat back down on the edge of his bed. 

 

“I can't keep doing this, Leon,” she said finally, her voice edged with a shakiness she couldn't hide. “I can't keep pretending like I'm not terrified every time you walk out that door.”

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it. “I know it's your job. I know I don't get to ask you to stop. But I don't know how to do this. Not anymore.” 

 

Anymore, was the keyword. Because she'd have to do this before she'd had a choice. Had been afraid of losing every person she loved from the moment her parents didn't come home. Couldn't subject her daughter to the same fate. 

 

And Leon, he could handle her anger—he was expecting her anger—but this wasn’t that. Few things managed to leave him speechless, but Claire Redfield always did. He had no excuses, no justifications, only apologies he knew she didn't want to hear. So, for as long as she had something to say, he'd listen. 

 

“I get that this is your life, Leon,” she said, gentler now. “But I have to think about what's best for her.”

 

The topic had been inevitable, and yet he wasn't ready for it, didn't think he'd ever be. 

 

“You think I don't?” he asked, his voice quiet. 

 

Claire hesitated for a second, because it had sounded more like a genuine question than any kind of reproach. “I don't know what you think.”

 

His jaw tensed. “I want to be here.”

 

When she spoke again, her voice was shakier. “I don’t want you to stay just because Jack didn't.”

 

Leon’s head snapped up. “Claire—”

 

“I mean it.” She forced herself to look at him through the tears that pooled in her eyes. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to be here just because he bailed. You don’t owe me—or her—that.”

 

Leon’s stomach twisted, something close to anger bubbling up inside of him. “You think that’s what this is?”

 

Claire didn’t answer right away. Maybe because she wasn’t sure. Maybe because she was afraid of the answer.

 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “And I don’t want to find out too late that you regret it.”

 

He stared at her. She was crying, or well, she was about to. 

 

And, oh, how he wished he could tell her all her fears were unfounded. 

 

Claire knew he wanted to be there– knew him well enough to recognize the longing on his face, the soft excitement at the prospect of a future that was theirs. 

 

But wanting something and being right for it weren't the same thing. 

 

“You think I'd walk away?” 

 

She shook her head instantly. “I think you wouldn't. And I think if you realize too late this isn't what you wanted you'll resent me for it.”

 

He thought about arguing, about telling her how wrong she was. That he could never resent her, not for this.  

 

The only thing that would calm her was knowing that not only did he want to stay, but he was ready for it. But he couldn't say that– because he wasn't. Because his life didn't allow it.

 

He'd faced death more times he could count, more times than anyone's father ever should. It had never made him feel as powerless as it did now. 

 

Claire looked at him, her eyes red and glassy, her breath shaky. She tried to wipe away the tears, but they came faster, slipping past her defenses. She tried to speak, but the words faltered, lost in the back of her throat. 

 

Leon couldn't bear it anymore. 

 

He reached out slowly, hesitantly, giving her a chance to stop him if she wanted to. But instead of pulling away, she let him pull her into his arms.

 

Her body trembled in his embrace, and that was when she broke. The dam holding back all her fear, all her uncertainty, shattered in an instant, coming out as tears that landed on his chest like bullets. 

 

What could he even say that wouldn't sound like a lie? Not because he meant it that way, but because neither of them could promise things they weren't sure they could keep?

 

So he did the only thing he could do. He held her. 

 

Eventually, Claire pulled back just enough to look at him. Her eyes were red, her face blotchy, but she was beautiful in a way that made his chest ache. Because this was her. Stripped of all the walls she built, all the strength she forced herself to wear like armor.

 

And she was trusting him with it.

 

Leon swallowed hard, thumb brushing against her cheek, catching the last of her tears. “I’m not him,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion.

 

Claire let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. “I know.”

 

“I don’t want to be here because he left. I want to be here because I choose to be.”

 

Her lips trembled, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to believe him. But fear was a hard thing to shake.

 

“I don’t want to lose you,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

 

Leon exhaled, pressing his forehead against hers. “You won’t.”

 

“You can’t promise that.”

 

No, he couldn’t.

 

He wanted to—wanted to tell her he wasn’t going anywhere, that he’d be here for every first, every milestone, every moment that mattered. But they both knew the reality of his life.

 

She reached for his face, cradling it between her hands, her thumbs brushing along the rough stubble at his jaw.

 

His heart slammed against his ribs. 

 

Then, barely above a whisper—

 

“I love you.”

 

Leon’s breath caught. It wasn't something they said lightly, and now she was saying it with the same breath she would leave him.

 

“I love you,” she repeated, her voice breaking. “But I can’t keep pretending that’s enough.”

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the tears welling up in his eyes too. Without thinking he leaned in, kissing her softly. It wasn't intense, wasn't anything more than they could deal with. 

 

But when they pulled away, the moment was gone. 

 

“We can't do this, Leon,” she whispered, brushing the hair off his face. “Not like this.”

 

Leon stared at her, helplessness pooling in his chest like lead. Even if he begged her to stay he'd have to leave. 

 

Her hand lingered on his cheek for a moment longer, an apology she couldn't say with words, tracing his jaw like it might be the last time she did. 

 

“I don't want you to leave,” he muttered, his words thick. 

 

Claire closed her eyes, taking in a slow breath. She let her hands slip down, resting against the fabric of his shirt, her touch lingering at the warmth of his chest. She could feel his heart beating in time with hers.

 

“I know,” she said softly, eyes still closed, as if trying to hold onto the moment for just a little longer. “I know you don’t.”

 

Her hand moved lower, down to the curve of her belly, sniffling as her mind caught up with everything this meant. His hand found hers, settling beside it, still hesitant but more determined to not let her go without telling her. 

 

“You'll be an amazing mother, Claire,” he mumbled. “You already are.”

 

She felt a lump rise in her throat at his words, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye as she let herself believe him. That, despite the things beyond her control, they'd be fine. 

 

Claire leaned in, resting her forehead against his. “Promise me… promise me you'll be careful,” she pleaded. 

 

“I promise,” he said, his voice hoarse but resolute. “I'll come back.”

 

To you. The thought slipped through his mind unbidden, but it was there, clear and undeniable. He would come back. Not because he was duty-bound to—though that was part of it—but because he couldn’t imagine anything else. Even in this moment, standing on the precipice of their goodbye, that thought was as clear as anything else in his life. 

 

And then, as the silence stretched between them, Claire stood up. It wasn’t sudden, but the movement was inevitable. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, a lingering touch that felt like an anchor to him, a tightrope between the life they could’ve had and the life they still might have someday.

 

She pulled away just slightly, her gaze meeting his for the briefest moment, before her voice broke through, soft but firm. “Don’t be a stranger,” she said, the words lingering in the air, both a plea and a quiet farewell.

 

The door had barely clicked shut behind her, but already, he felt the absence. In the blink of an eye his apartment had gone back to being just that: four walls to just exist in when he wasn't somewhere else. 

 

It wasn't just the physical emptiness of her leaving, it was the loss of something he'd had no right to from the beginning. A fantasy he'd failed to ask for permission for. 

 

Not for a second did he doubt Claire's ability to do it on her own. To raise the most wonderful kid to ever live, and to love her so fiercely that she'd never notice the gaps Jack had left behind. That she'd know nothing but love, even when her arrival had been anything but easy.  

 

Leon, for his part, would go on his mission, do his best not to die. He'd come back to an empty bed. And then he'd get his life in order. 

 

It's the least he could do. It's the least Claire deserved if he wanted to be a part of her life again.

 

Notes:

So.... Would've been a lot easier if they talked about it earlier, but I do think RE characters are uncapable of clear communication. Next chapter should be ready to go for next Tuesday, but if it's not I'll post every other week.

Title is from 'Paul' by Big Thief, which you'll see fits this chapter really well. Hope you enjoyed.

Kudos and comments are always appreciated. Bug hugs <333

Chapter 10: How the hell did we lose sight of us again?

Summary:

Them and hospitals, y'know...

Notes:

Maybe I take so long to write so you can feel the yearning they feel for each other...

Jk, life has just been hectic. But I have the rest of this pretty much outlined so I shouldn't be gone for so long now!

This chapter is soooo cliche, but I'm not even kidding it was one of the first scenes I thought of when planning this fic.

As always I love hearing from you guys. Anything you have to share I'll be happy to hear. Happy reading, love you all. It goes uphill from here finallyyy

July 25th- 17 days later 

 

6:14 pm

 

The apartment was too quiet. 

 

Claire lifted the box in front of her with more difficulty than she was used to, hissing when a sharp tug in her lower back reminded her not to. A hushed curse left her mouth, hands on her hips like that might ease the strain, but nothing did lately.

 

She couldn’t stand too long. She couldn’t sit too long. Food seemed unappealing and yet she was more hungry than she’d ever been. 

 

For a woman that had built her self-worth around being self-reliant, it was torture. Chris had offered to help, as had Jill, but Claire couldn’t stand the company at the time— couldn’t bear the thought of them asking, of them fussing over her like she was falling apart. 

 

She wasn’t. She really really was trying to convince herself she wasn’t.

 

Her gaze traveled to the half-filled boxes lining her living room as she sat down on the couch. She wasn’t moving for another month when her lease expired, but the need to do something had been clawing at her.

 

Idle hands led to unwelcome thoughts, and she’d had more than enough of those lately.

 

She wiped sweat from her brow, trying to ignore the pressure behind her eyes. It was too warm, or maybe it was just her. 

 

On the coffee table lay her phone, screen dark. Silent. 

 

Seventeen days.

 

Not a call, not a text. Nothing. She hadn’t reached out either. Pride, maybe. Maybe she knew they would never be able to just live off of updates and catching up messages. 

 

God, she was so tired.

 

Everything felt like a decision. Everything demanded her attention, because even ignoring it felt like a choice. 

 

Sometimes she’d feel bitter, though she wouldn’t admit it proudly. Bitter that what was supposed to be the happiest time of her life had been hardship after hardship. Her own doing, she’d think on the loneliest nights. Most of them she blamed Jack. Some others she blamed Leon, and then she’d cry because she knew she was being unreasonable.

 

The hardest part of feeling bitter was when she stopped, because then she’d just feel guilty. Among the great scheme of things, there were thousands of people who had it worse— she had seen too many of them up close.

 

Even herself. She used to pray for times like these, once. Though it hadn’t been in the way she would have liked, she was grateful, if anything, for living long enough to get it. 

 

Her hand reached for a onesie sitting on the armrest bedside her. Blue, stitched with little red stars across the front. It was soft, too small to even fathom a person that size.

 

Claire laughed softly— bitter and humorless. If only she could tell herself a year ago that she’d be folding tiny socks— that Leon had come back and out of her life. 

 

God, she missed him so much it hurt. She didn’t think she’d get him back. Once she did, she’d never imagined losing him again. 

 

But had she really lost him? Could she really ignore that the thing she wanted most was to curl up in his arms and stay there forever?

 

Maybe she’d been wrong for pushing him away. She could’ve been selfish for once in her life. She could’ve known the right thing was letting him be free of this mess and staying anyways because she really, truly, fucking wanted to. 

 

It had always been him who left first, but in her condition he never would have. He would’ve have stayed— would’ve given her energy he did not have. 

 

It would’ve killed them in a slower, more painful way than saying goodbye had. 

 

Every thought became irrelevant when her phone rang. She would’ve almost found it creepy that it did just when she was thinking of him— but then again, he rarely left her mind. 

 

It wasn’t his number, but it was one that never called if it wasn’t about him.

 

Ingrid Hunnigan.

 

Claire’s stomach dropped.

 

Something was wrong. 

 

“Hello?” Her voice came out sharper than intended. She had almost dropped the phone in her rush to answer it. 

 

“Claire, it’s Ingrid.” 

 

Just the sound of her name had her hoping the worst. She sat up straighter, heart in her throat. “Is it Leon?” She asked, though the answer was obvious. 

 

A pause. “Yes,” she replied gently, which only made Claire’ skin crawl. Gentle meant bad. Gentle meant serious.

 

She didn’t even give the other woman time to answer. “Is he okay? What happened?”

 

“He’s injured. He’s stable for now, but we’re flying him back stateside.”

 

It took Claire a lot to keep breathing. “What kind of injury?”

 

“I can’t disclose more than that,” she said apologetically.

 

“You just did,” Claire snapped, already halfway to standing before a wave of nausea made her sit back down. “I know you broke rules to call me so don’t tell me things halfway. Please.” 

 

There was a beat of silence on the other end. A weighing of loyalty versus duty. Her job urged her to see him as a weapon, but he was also her friend, that’s why she knew to call Claire.

 

“He took a gunshot to the abdomen,” she said carefully. “They managed to stabilize him overseas, but there were complications. Internal bleeding. They’re preparing medical transport as we speak.” 

 

Every word felt like a physical blow. Her fingers dug into the couch cushion beside her, trying to ground herself in anything. “Is he— does he know what’s happening?” 

 

“He was lucid when they sedated him for the flight,” Ingrid answered. “He asked for you.” 

 

Claire’s chest cracked open.

 

“He what?” 

 

“He said if anything happened, someone needed to tell you. I wasn’t sure if I should call, but—”

 

“Thank you,” Claire cut in, already trying to remember where she’d left her shoes, her bag, her stupid car keys. “Where are they taking him?” 

 

“Arlington. He’ll be there within the next six hours. They’ll probably rush him straight to post-op and then ICU.” 

 

Claire was already on her feet, adrenaline overriding seventeen days of doubt. “I’ll be there.” 

 

“It’s a military hospital, I don’t think they’ll let you in,” Ingrid said with a sigh, the gears in her mind already turning. 

 

“Then I’ll wait.” Her voice cracked— sounding more like a plea than a statement. 

 

There was another pause. The other woman sighed like she already regretted doing this, but she was nothing if not proactive. “They won’t keep his wife out.” 

 

Claire blinked. “What?” 

 

“Not the first time you’ve pulled that card,” she filled in gently. “No one’s going to question it. He doesn’t have anyone else listed.” 

 

She was right— it wasn’t the first time. It just felt deeper now. 

 

“Okay… thank you.” 

 

“I’ll text you the details,” Hunnigan replied.

 

Claire thanked her once again, ending the call before she could allow the panic to swallow her whole. 

 

---

 

 

2:07 am

 

She hadn’t slept. She hadn’t even tried. Unlike her previous sleepless nights, this time she had a good reason. 

 

Streets were mainly empty, so she drove more recklessly than she’d had in months. Her hands tightened around the steering wheel with every turn, every stretch of empty road, every worst-case scenario that played out behind her eyes. 

 

The last time she’d felt this desperate had been in that gas station months ago. And back then it was Leon who had answered her call. She would always do the same. 

 

The walk from the car to the hospital entrance felt like it stretched for miles. Her back ached, her ankles hadn’t stopped throbbing, but it all felt insignificant now.

 

Fluorescent lights stung her eyes as she walked into the reception, which was mostly empty save, of course, for a receptionist.

 

Claire approached the desk, her heart pounding in her eardrums. She nodded politely to the woman behind the desk. 

 

“What can I help you with, ma’am?” 

 

“I’m here to see my husband,” she answered, voice unwavering though she was anything but steady. 

 

The receptionist gave her a politely skeptical once-over. “Visiting hours are over. I’m afraid you’ll have to come back at eight.” 

 

Claire didn’t flinch. She wasn’t a liar by nature, but she was a damn good one. “I just drove all the way from Baltimore. I just need five minutes to know he’s alive…” 

 

The woman hesitated. Claire didn’t look away. Let her see the desperation in her face, the tears threatening to spill across the exhaustion written in every inch of her. That wasn’t an act. 

 

If there was one thing Claire hated about being pregnant, it was the pity that came along with it, but she’d never been more grateful for it than when it shifted something in the receptionist’s answer.

 

With a quiet sigh, the woman  leaned back and tapped something else into her computer. 

 

“What’s his name?” 

 

“Leon Kennnedy,” Claire said, almost breathless just from saying it out loud. “He was brought in earlier tonight. Surgery.”

 

A few seconds passed. The receptionist gave a faint nod. “ICU. Room 502. But if a nurse tells you to leave, you have to listen.”

 

She couldn’t care less about the last part, she was already moving. “Thank you,” she said, barely turning around before she disappeared down the corridor, following the signs to the directions she’d been given.

 

Every passing second only gave her more time to imagine the worst. She hadn’t prepared herself to lose him, and she really hoped if the procedures hadn’t been enough, that he’d survive out of sheer loyalty to her. 

 

Then, there it was. Room 502. 

 

She stopped outside the door, hand hovering above the handle. For a moment she couldn’t move.

 

Then— deep breath. Turn the knob. Push the door open.

 

And there he was. 

 

Unconscious still, lying on the hospital bed, hooked up to monitors, an IV in his arm, bruises blooming under his skin. He looked pale. Exhausted even with his eyes closed. But he was breathing. 

 

He was alive. 

 

Her knees almost gave out. 

 

She slipped inside without a sound and let the door close behind her. 

 

Being here, just seeing him— it was enough to make the last seventeen days crumble like ash. 

 

Claire moved closer, careful with every step, not ready for him to know she was here, though she knew he couldn’t hear her. 

 

Her gaze swept over him— bandages, faint scratches, a cut along his jawline that had recently been stitched. 

 

He looked older like this, more worn down. Even half-broken and sedated he made her heart skip a beat. 

 

Her hands trembled as she reached for the chair beside the bed. She sank into it, staring at him like maybe if she did for long enough, he’d wake up. 

 

Claire was the daughter of a military man, the sister of another who’d followed those footsteps. All her life there had always been at least one person she worried would not come back home. 

 

When she was younger she always thought it’d get easier, but it never did. Every year that passed instilled a deeper sense that their luck was running out, that everything they’d survived did not make them indestructible.

 

She reached for his hand, a flicker of regret passing through her and leaving just as fast— it hadn’t even been a choice. Her fingers curled around his. It calmed her down more than any deep breath could. 

 

She wanted to say something. Anything. That she was here. That she was sorry. That she hadn’t stopped thinking about him. But instead, she sat in silence. 

 

Minutes passed, maybe hours. No nurse came to kick her out even when they checked his vitals– no one dared to when the scene was so… domestic. The chair beneath her was too stiff, the air in the room too cold. But she didn’t move. 

 

Eventually, her body gave in. She didn’t mean to fall asleep, tried to fight it even as her eyes fluttered, but even she had her limits. 

 

Roughly an hour later, a sound made her stir. Not the beeping machines, not the nurses outside, but something quieter. A shift in breath.

 

Her attention was on him in an instant, heart in her throat. The sedatives still held him down, but she could see he was waking up, the confused flutter of his eyelids.

 

“Hey,” she whispered, hand settling on his shoulder, mindful of his injuries.

 

A faint groan. His brow knit, lips parting just enough to try to form a word. His eyes found her, and she could see the exact moment they recognized her. 

 

His voice came out hoarse, barely there. “…Claire?” 

 

She could’ve cried just hearing her name from his lips.

 

“Yeah,” she said quickly, leaning in just enough that he could see her better. “Yeah, it’s me.” 

 

“You came.” 

 

It amused him, it seemed. 

 

“I did.” And the idiot was smiling, clearly still drugged— it was hard for her not to smile back. “Where else would I be?” 

 

Leon exhaled shakily, his hand moving with effort across the sheet. She caught it in hers, holding it tight. 

 

“I thought…” he began, his rough voice trailing off.

 

Claire leaned closer, tears welling again despite herself. “Don’t. You’re okay.” 

 

“I feel like I got run over by a tank,” he muttered, his words slurred around the edges but more lively now. 

 

Claire huffed a laugh. “Which is just slightly worse than getting shot and almost bleeding out…” 

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

 

This man was going to drive her crazy. 

 

“Well, I think I had it worse… having to sleep in this chair.” 

 

He blinked at her, eyes almost scanning her— stopping briefly where everyone did before returning to her face. “You okay?” He asked, slow and still disoriented but sincere. 

 

Her chest tightened a little at the question. She could see the effort it took him just to form words, and still, he was thinking about her. About them. Like it was his duty.

 

“I’m fine,” she reassured gently, her fingers still wrapped around his. “We’re both fine. Just a little sore, y’know, but that’s to be expected.” 

 

His lips curved slightly. “Sounds exhausting.” 

 

“It is,” she said with a smile. “And somehow still easier than dealing with you.” 

 

The joke landed because he was not capable of overthinking it.

 

Leon huffed a faint, sleepy laugh that turned into a wince. “Don’t make me laugh.” 

 

Claire smiled, brushing back the hair from his forehead. “ Okay. I’ll behave. Let me call the nurse. Let them know you’re awake.” 

 

She stood up just long enough to press the call button and grab a cup of water from the tray. By the time she sat back down, the door was swinging open. 

 

A nurse stepped in, clipboard in hand. She greeted them both, and then went on to do a quick check.

 

“Vitals are good,” she said, writing down on the clipboard. “You’ll probably drift in and out a lot today. With some good rest you’ll be good as new.” 

 

Her gaze went to Claire. “And you should rest too, Mrs. Kennedy.”

 

Claire blinked at the nurse's words, forgetting for a second the lie she’d told to be able to be here. 

 

Mrs. Kennedy.

 

It wasn’t the first time she’d heard it— hospitals weren’t too accepting of whatever it was they had going on. It was easier to lie. 

 

The nurse didn’t seem to notice the bomb she’d dropped, so she went on. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?” 

 

Claire felt Leon’s hand twitch in hers, but he didn’t say anything. “It’s a girl,” she spoke past the lump in her throat— though saying it so freely did bring a smile to her lips.

 

“A girl! That’s wonderful. Congratulations, both of you.” She scribbled something on her clipboard, then gave them a polite nod before heading for the door. “I’ll let you be. Someone will check in again in about an hour.” 

 

The door clicked shut behind her. 

 

Claire glanced at Leon, bracing herself for the bubble that had surrounded them just minutes ago to burst. She’d seen the way the assumption had made him tense countless times before— now would be no different.

 

Certainly she hadn’t expected to see him smiling. That’s what sedatives strong enough to fly him across the ocean did, she supposed.

 

“Mrs. Kennedy?” he said after a beat, voice still slurred.

 

Claire laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “Don’t start.”

 

“I think it suits you,” he mumbled, enjoying her glare.

 

“They wouldn’t let me see you unless I was family.” She paused. “Or your wife.”

 

“I know, I know… not my first rodeo,” he sighed. 

 

Claire rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too. “Unfortunately.”

 

“You heard them,” she continued. “Now be quiet and go to sleep.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, wincing as he shifted in the bed.

 

She shook her head but didn’t fight the smile that tugged at her lips. She adjusted the blanket and settled back into the chair— they were in for a long night.

 

Leon’s eyes were already closed again, but his hand didn’t let go of hers.

 

It wasn’t until his breathing had slowed again that Claire really processed what had happened. How much of a close call this had been. 

 

He’d wake up in a few hours. The morphine would wear off, and things wouldn’t be as amusing. He’d come back to the reality he’d been trying to escape.

 

And they still wouldn’t know where they stood.

 

---

 

The morning dragged by slowly. Claire didn’t try sleeping again. Her brain probably needed it, but her body would surely protest it later if she slept on anything other than her bed.

 

She’d eaten breakfast, she’d skimmed through magazines, she’d done whatever she could to pass time. But she couldn’t bare to leave without saying goodbye.

 

Maybe she didn’t want to return to the loneliness that awaited her in the apartment, maybe she didn’t want to leave him to his own loneliness. Deep down, she felt like she owed it to him, for more reasons than she wanted to dive into.

 

Nearly fourteen hours after Hunnigan had called her, Leon stirred again.

 

It was different this time— less hazy, much more alert. The drugs had indeed worn off. His pain was sharper, but his mind was clearer. The light that filtered through the window landed in his eyes too brightly. He winced as he tried to shift.

 

Claire stood quickly, hovering by his bedside. “Hey— take it easy.”

 

His eyes found hers again, doing a double-take before settling more focused than before. “You’re still here.”

 

She nodded. “You thought I’d leave?”

 

“N- no, I—” Truth was, he wasn’t even sure he hadn’t dreamed her. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.”

 

He stared at her for a long moment, almost sheepishly, searching her face like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, to realize it wasn't this easy to just have her back. 

 

Claire had noticed the change in his demeanor almost immediately, and it was more like what she’d prepared to encounter.

 

For the DSO to send him back when they normally pushed him to his limits— it hadn’t been just a scratch. He seemed more aware of that now.

 

“How are you feeling?” she asked softly.

 

Leon blinked, “I’ll live.”

 

“That’s not what I asked.”

 

Of course, the doctors had given her a rundown of his injuries, of the major injury too close to hitting a vital organ for comfort. But only he could know what had happened.

 

He looked away then. “I’ve felt better.” 

 

The room felt too small for the silence that followed. Claire could hear the monitor bleed steady and slow beside them, could hear the world outside the window carrying on like none of this mattered. But it mattered. It mattered so much.

 

“You’re strong,” she said, and when her hand touched his shoulder he could almost forget the pain on the rest of his body. “You’ll bounce back easily.”

 

Leon closed his eyes briefly, like the weight of hearing it was almost too much to bear. Like maybe getting injured hadn’t been so bad if he’d managed to end up this close to her again. 

 

A doctor eventually came in, glancing between him and Claire, no questions asked. “Surgery went well. You’ll stay here for a few days, and if everything progresses well, then you should be able to go home.” 

 

Claire noticed his hand tightened slightly on the blanket, his body instinctively bracing for bad news.

 

“You’re stable,” the doctor began. “You’re looking at a minimum of two weeks before thinking about anything strenuous, but full recovery will take longer.” 

 

All things considered, it could’ve been so much worse. He was aware of that, and Claire seemed to be slowly realizing it. “If the bullet had moved an inch or two and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Leon nodded faintly, the words landing like another hit. He didn't need the reminder. He'd replayed it enough times on the flight home, in the haze between consciousness and numbness. 

 

With that, the doctor offered them a polite nod and left, the door swinging quietly as they were left alone again. 

 

Neither of them knew what to say. Everything that they could talk about felt too trivial to discuss in what had almost been his deathbed. Their lives rarely had a place for feelings.

 

“Guess you’ll stick around a little longer,” she said. Her worry had been so sharp that her relief hadn’t settled, would never settle. He could see the remnants of it in her hands, the way she twisted her fingers in an effort to hide how they shook.  

 

“You should go home, Claire,” he said softly. 

 

“Leon–”

 

“I’m okay now.” 

 

A quiet plea had sneaked into his voice. He didn't want to remind her why they'd fallen apart, but it hung between them all the same. This was why. No matter how tightly she held him, there'd always be something trying to pull him out of her arms.

 

This was his life. It didn't have to be hers. He wouldn't ever wish for it to be her daughter's.

 

The protest was there, but it died on Claire's tongue. She understood it. She always had.

 

When the world felt too much, it had always been his arms around her, silent and strong and warm. It had been true eleven years ago, and it had been true for the last six months. 

 

So, she'd go home. And then she'd come back.

 

Because she couldn't not. 

 

She’d always answer his calls. She’d always shoulder the burdens he couldn’t carry. He’d do the same, she never doubted that. 

 

But she couldn't pretend she'd ever love anyone this way twice. Couldn't ignore the ache at thinking about a future without him. 

 

Time and time again they'd passed the test of staying during their darkest moments. She wanted the days in between, too. The days when he got to be human, when he got to be hers. 

 

His job was dangerous. It would be dangerous whether she was by his side or not. But if it had to be dangerous, then she would rather be with him. Because loving him was nowhere near as painful as not having him. 

 

Thousands of words could've left her mouth, but even in her desperation she knew it wasn't the time. He was pale and bandaged and still weak despite the act she knew he was putting on for her sake. 

 

So she swallowed all her declarations and stepped closer. “Try to get some rest, hm?”

 

“I will.” 

 

For a second she hesitated, then bent forward carefully– mindful of his injuries and her changing body. 

 

It couldn't even be called a hug, but he reciprocated as much as he could, even through the pain. 

 

When she finally pulled back, her fingers lingered at the edge of the blanket, and her eyes lingered on his face. “I'll come visit when I can.”

 

“I'd like that,” he replied. And they were both referring to so much more than just this time. Once again it was an invitation to step back into her life. A promise that she'd be there. 

 

She crossed the room, unsure of where she stood, and paused at the door. “You scared the hell out of me,” she added, her voice lighter than she felt. “But I'm glad you’ll be okay.”

 

Leon gave her a tired half-smile, though he couldn't hide the sadness in it to her. “Yeah.”

 

Claire slipped out, and the door closed behind her with a soft click. 

 

He lay there in the stillness afterwards, his mind hazy from reasons completely unrelated to the meds he'd been given. The sigh that left him was almost self-deprecating. In trying to be kind, he had been cruel– had forced her to hold on to him, to them, until she couldn't anymore. 

 

Then she'd come here, pretended to be his wife, and had looked at him like some part of her wished she was. And he couldn't even manage to say thank you– or sorry for that matter.

 

She had looked so tired. Lack of sleep, worry, everything . And she was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. From the moment he'd been conscious enough to realize she was there, he'd been conscious enough to feel guilty about it. 

 

Still, she had looked at him like there was truly no other place she'd rather be. Still came when he was broken, still held his hand, still leaned in close despite all the reasons not to. Even pregnant. Even after what had happened between them. Even now. 

 

And maybe he didn't deserve her. Maybe he never had. But if she was offering a sliver of her world again– even just the promise to visit when she could– trying to push her away was a battle already lost. 

 

His eyes drifted to the door she'd walked through, and for a brief moment, he let himself picture it: a quiet evening, sunlight in a kitchen, Claire laughing with a baby on her hip whose hair reflected the same shade of red he loved. 

 

Most times he dared to imagine it, something came along to ruin it– to remind him it wasn't something he could wish for. This time he was spared. 

 

Everything felt at peace.

 

Notes:

Phewwww, month long wait for that.

I'm sorry, there's just no cleon trope I like more than them pretending to be married. I've seen it in a lot of fics and I eat it up every time.

Like I said before, it actually does begin to go uphill from here. It won't be all rainbows and glitter, but it'll be much better than what I've thrown at them before.

Thank you all for your incredible support. Kudos and comments are always appreciated. Hope you're enjoying this story as much as I am. Still feels like a fever dream.

I'll shut up now <3333

Chapter 11: Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Notes:

Heyyyyy 0_0

You can be angry at me, people. Before I wrote fanfiction I would genuinely get upset when someone didn’t update so I get the feeling. Now I know how hard it is to actually keep up.

Long story short, you can blame uni for my long absence, but I’m on break now, so hopefully I have time to actually breathe. You have to write sooo many essays in psych, that when I did have free time, the last thing I wanted to do was write, so…my bad.

But here she issss. I love this story, and I’ll see it through no matter how long it takes. Thank you for reading. Love y’all.

July 22nd- two days before Leon's injury - 5:41 pm

 

 

“So…” Chris began, his tone casual but a little too rehearsed. He put away the box with the dishes he'd just stored. 

 

Claire looked up at him, momentarily pausing from folding the laundry. 

 

“So?”

 

“How's TerraSave treating you?” he asked carefully. 

 

“Chris,” Jill sighed, in a way that clearly meant they'd talked about this before– that it wasn't as casual of a question as he made it out to be.

 

Claire's eyes narrowed involuntarily, “Well, you know I haven't been on field work for like two months,” she sighed, looking down at the obvious reason why. “Probably won't be for a while.”

 

“Better not be for a while,” Jill objected, not taking it back when Claire shot her a glance. “You deserve the time off.”

 

“Don't we all?” she asked.

 

Chris nodded, he couldn't argue with that, but her comment came from deflection. “We're just looking out for you.”

 

He spoke again before Claire could inevitably shut them down. If she perceived she was being cornered, no well-meaning intentions would convince her otherwise. “Look, I think what we're both trying to say is that… we just want to know what your plans are.”

 

And although his words made sense, it was too late for her brain to see them as anything other than distrust.

 

“I'm not asking so I can judge you, Claire–” he conceded, “I'm just asking.”

 

Instead, they were a distant voice. You think you can handle a child?

 

“Well, right now my plan is moving out of this house,” she retorted, her irritation missable to many people, but not Chris and Jill. “Can't really do that if you try to give me therapy instead of helping me pack.”

 

That was that, so Chris tried to go back to his assigned duty: cupboards too high to reach without steps. Jill shot him a look, on his side for once.

 

He should just let her be, part of his brain said. 

 

She'd stopped needing him long ago. She'd walked through hell and back without his help so many times that now offering it felt almost disrespectful.

 

But what kind of brother would he be if he didn't offer it anyway? If he denied that the woman in front of him looked no less scared than the girl who'd come running to him after every scraped knee?

 

If she wanted to get mad at him, she would.

 

“I just-...” he sighed, making his way to the living room, the words leaving his mouth before her stare could make him back down, “I'm worried about you, yeah?”

 

For a second he was sure she'd stand up and leave, but she didn't– although she did look like she wanted to blow his head off. “Really? I hadn't noticed…”

 

And Jill, although continuing with her task, was hearing the conversation unfold with attentive ears, not her first time witnessing a similar scene.

 

“Claire,” he reasoned, “you're like two months away from giving birth.”

 

“And your point is?”

 

The challenge in her eyes was clear, in a way she wasn't proud to admit came from fear. She'd poke the bear until it finally confirmed that she wasn't fit for the life she was trying to build. 

 

Jack definitely hadn't thought so. 

 

And if Chris and Jill didn't either, well, she'd rather know. 

 

“I'm just wondering what your plan is,” he said. 

 

Jill had no choice but to hold in a sigh. Watching the two of them argue, though it hadn't gotten to that point quite yet, was as entertaining as it was frustrating. An immovable object versus an unstoppable force if she'd ever seen one.

 

“What do you want me to say, Chris?” Claire huffed, taking his silence as a queue to continue. “I have a job. I'm moving to a new apartment that has a- a better fucking school district.” 

 

“I gave up smoking,” she added. It was a painfully small sacrifice in the face of everything else she'd done, but somehow the only one that came to mind. 

 

“That's not what I meant, Claire,” he assured. “I know you're doing your best. But I also know it's a lot.”

 

It was a lot. And maybe Chris understood that sense of sudden responsibility more than she'd like to admit.

 

“And I know you're more than capable of doing it alone,” he continued, even when Claire looked away.  “But if we can make it easier, I'm just asking you to let us help.”

 

“You are helping me.” The boxes of stuff either too high or too heavy had felt like a direct injury to her pride. “And it sure doesn't feel like you trust me to do this alone.”

 

“That's not–”

 

“No, Chris, it is,” she interrupted. “So, please, go ahead and tell me everything you think I got wrong.”

 

“That's not what I want to do.”

 

“Then what is?”

 

“I want to offer you a job,” he blurted out, turning to look at Jill, “we want to.” 

 

Claire was taken aback, for sure, her face a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “What?”

 

“Your brother's really bad at explaining things,” Jill sighed, moving to sit on the couch across from Claire's. “But yeah, that's what he was getting at.”

 

“Fuck you mean a job? I have a job,” she argued. 

 

It was certainly the reaction they'd expected, no surprises there. They had to thread carefully, otherwise their very reasonable proposal would be thrown out the window before she let herself hear it.

 

“I know,” Chris conceded as he sat down next to Jill. “And if you look me in the eyes and tell me you love it, I'll leave you alone.”

 

Claire narrowed her eyes, the insinuation that she needed him to get out was enough to make this idea ridiculous. But maybe she should've held back on complaining about the bureaucratic nightmare that TerraSave was. 

 

“I like what I do,” she settled on. 

 

“We like what you do too,” Jill acknowledged. “And I think besides this being better for you, it's also better for our cause.”

 

“Our cause?”

 

“There's only so much we can do by storming into a place and wiping it out. What good is a whole militia who can't look out after the people it leaves behind?”

 

Chris nodded, leaning forward to drive his point across. “You'd be doing practically the same you do now, but with a whole more liberty. And when field work becomes an option again, we can discuss that.”

 

Claire shook her head, standing up faster than she could without getting dizzy. “I'm not gonna let you hire me out of pity.”

 

“It's not–”

 

“We're not,” Jill refuted. “If we hired you out of pity we would've done so months ago. If anything, call it convenient for both parties.”

 

Claire was sending her a death glare. Right… as convenient as it was, it was also out of pity.

 

“So you're saying that I'd have to get used not only to a baby but also to a new job?” she challenged.

 

Chris and Jill exchanged a glance, they could grant her that point. “You don't have to quit until you're ready, the offer won't expire,” Chris explained. “We're just saying you have options.”

 

Claire could taste the blood on her mouth from biting her cheek, though she didn't know if she was holding back anger or tears. The rational part of her she was hanging onto knew they meant well– that it was worth hearing them out. 

 

But would they be as worried if there was someone by her side to share the burden? The answer was obvious. Would she have stayed in TerraSave for so long if she'd had a second income to support the change? She'd rather not dwell on it. 

 

“You should take your leave just like you were planning to,” Jill interrupted her train of thought, “and when you're ready to go back to work, you don't go back to TerraSave.”

 

“You think it's that easy? What, I'm just supposed to throw years of work down the drain to join you?”

 

Jill shook her head, and the look in her eyes was honest. “We wouldn't be offering you something that's not better than what you have.”

 

“And we're hoping you get to do it more freely, we're a little more flexible than TerraSave is– from what you've told us.”

 

Claire sighed, her hands moving to her hips as she tried to keep her mind from spiraling. “How long have you two been scheming this?”

 

“A while,” Chris admitted. “I think it was bound to happen.”

 

She looked between him and Jill, seeing the same agreement in their faces. 

 

“We focus too much on the outside, but we need someone here in DC to coordinate things that you've been doing for years.”

 

Jill stood up, placing a hand on Claire's shoulder, perhaps she could offer a reassurance that Chris couldn't: they weren't doing this to shelter her. 

 

“You don't have to give us an answer yet,” she reassured. “And if the answer's no, we won't be mad. But just– consider it. For you and for the little menace, hm?”

 

Claire gulped, swallowing down the conflicts this had raised within her, but she nodded. If this felt as much of an invasion after getting more than four hours of sleep, then she'd tell them to go to hell and continue as she'd planned.  

 

“Good.”

 

Chris stood up as well, giving her a conciliation offer in the form of a smile and going back to packing.

 

It took Claire a little longer to regain her footing. It was much more than just the job offer. Still, her brows creased as she resumed putting away clothes, her first instinct was to berate them, but she couldn't find a reason why. 

 

There was still much to do, everything they were packing needed unpacking, in her new place, after all– but the lower the sun got in the horizon the more ready she was to get in bed and ignore everything. 

 

“I think we should call it a night,” she declared as she tied up the second bag full of clothes, hers and Lucy's. 

 

“You sure?” Chris asked. “You don't want us to order dinner for you?”

 

She shook her head softly. “It's fine. I have some leftovers from yesterday.”

 

Jill hummed in understanding, recognizing all too well the exhaustion that went beyond physical, and Claire had enough in her mind to drive anyone crazy. As much as company helped, too much company could also drown. 

 

“Well, call us if you need anything.”

 

“I will.” She probably wouldn't.

 

Chris, though he knew maybe he shouldn't, asked nonetheless. “You sure you'll be okay for the night?” 

 

“I'll be fine.”

 

He nodded, looking around her apartment and silently assessing what was left. “We'll come back sometime next week. I'll call you, alright?”

 

“Thanks,” she said sincerely. As much as it hurt her pride, she knew the limitations she dealt with, and she couldn't have done this without them. Maybe it's what had held her back from lashing out earlier. 

 

“It's nothing. You're not the first to get Chris to pack all your stuff,” Jill said, patting the man's shoulder.    

 

Chris rolled his eyes, unamused by her remark. “And she wasn't even pregnant, so yeah– it's really nothing.”

 

Claire chuckled half-heartedly. “Alright, alright.”

 

Their goodbye was brief, since this whole moving thing had her seeing them more frequently. 

 

Still, Chris's words before they'd left had stuck with her. He'd squeezed her shoulder, mercifully not making her stand to say goodbye, and he'd used a tone that almost sounded like everything was going to be okay.

 

“You're a great mom, Claire, you don't need anyone to know that's true.” 

 

Not would be, not are going to be, she already was.

 

She and Chris could rarely be described as the sentimental type, but the long road behind them had taught them the hard way that most things didn't deserve to go unsaid. 

 

And even if she tried to deny it, she'd take every crumb she could get, any reassurance that she wasn't screwing it up. 

 

That night she went to bed thinking about something new. It almost annoyed her that the proposal didn't suck. She had yet to hear the details, of course, but she was certain Chris and Jill wouldn't have come forward without thinking it through. 

 

The bed was comfortable, but she was, unsurprisingly, not. Her eyes fluttered close, and for split seconds she could almost pretend that the pillows around her were arms, and though she knew whose specifically, the illusion didn't last long enough to dwell on it.

 

Some nights, when it was just her and the soft kicks against her belly, she'd lay down and wonder if she was biting off more than she could chew. No change in apartment, job, or lifestyle would change the fact that she'd chosen wrong– that fifteen months ago she'd met the wrong man, had let him into her life to forget something that had ended up coming back to her anyways, and that she'd let go again nonetheless.    

 

And yet the wrong man had led her down a path that would've never come true otherwise. The wrong man had pushed her so low, had made her retreat so much into herself, that she'd stopped questioning if the right man was right after all.

 

He was wrong in so many ways that Claire could never buy into the idea of their life being perfect. But, oh, he'd been hers in ways that Jack hadn't even dreamed of. 

 

Perhaps most of her relief of moving to a new apartment came from knowing she'd be in a space that Jack had never drained– that her daughter would grow up seeing four walls that had only ever been happy about her existence, not terrified of it. 

 

But then she'd remember the nights before she even knew Jack existed; the quiet mornings and lingering kisses that had etched themselves so deep into Claire's brain that it was the only thing she could remember now that she'd lost it again. 

 

Those thoughts led down the same dangerous path, that same fear that, wherever he was, Leon wasn't regretting the way things had ended between them the same way she was. The same fear that he didn't wish with all his heart that things had been different the first time around.

 

But Lucy… Hoping that things had been different felt like a sort of betrayal to her. The thought of being attached to someone she didn’t even know would’ve sounded stupid seven months ago, but it seemed perfectly natural now, instinctual in a way that scared her.

 

It wasn't too late to make things right though, she thought. As long as they were alive it wouldn't be too late. And god, she could only pray that he was alive, that the last time she saw him wouldn't be really the last. Maybe they'd have time to figure it out, and maybe it didn't look like what they'd been imagining. 

 

Maybe it wasn't all or nothing. But she couldn't rope him back into this if she'd been the one to force him to let go.

 

That's just how their life went. 

 

---

July 29th- present day

 

 

“You’re stalling,” he noted, watching her stare down at the board in front of them. 

 

“I’m thinking,” she answered, not looking up from the dire situation she found herself in. 

 

“That’s fine, we have all day.” And just as expected, her glare was awaiting him. 

 

He smiled faintly, the bruise on his jaw slightly paler, although still a sight that made Claire want to look away. 

 

After a few more seconds of consideration, she finally made her move, confident in a way he could almost bet meant she was not sure at all. 

 

“You sure about that?” He asked amusedly, watching as she unknowingly let him win.

 

He could see it in her face the second she realized she’d lost, the slight crease in her brow, her bottom lip between her teeth, and then finally a shrug meant to convince him she didn’t care at all. 

 

“I went easy on you.” 

 

“Sure…” 

 

Claire simply frowned as she watched his last bishop take her king. The worst part was it hadn’t been a close match at all. 

 

“Stupid game,” she muttered under her breath, wasting no time putting the board away. 

 

Leon grinned, then winced slightly, hand twitching towards his side before he stopped himself. Claire noticed in an instant, her own hand twitching like she might reach out, but she didn’t. 

 

“Careful.” 

 

“I’m fine. Just a weird movement, that’s all…”  he said quickly, not wanting to dwell on just how much her concern pained him more than his injuries did. 

 

She looked up at him, and for a second, neither of them spoke. “Yeah, the doctor’s said it would hurt for a while,” she answered with a sigh. “But you're good to go home, so...” 

 

Leon nodded at that, though home sounded heavier than it should– emptier. 

 

“You think Rex will remember me when I'm back?” 

 

“Oh, he does…” Claire reassured him. In the days he’d been hospitalized, she'd offered to take care of the dog. No reason other than practicality. None at all. 

 

The clock hit 2pm, and like every day he’d been here, a nurse walked in with a new set of bandages.

 

“Evening,” he greeted them with a polite smile. “I’m just here for a quick check-in before we let you go. How’s the pain today? Still a four?”

 

Leon hummed, sitting up straighter with merely a wince. “A three if I don’t move.” 

 

 

The nurse nodded as he moved to Leon's IV stand. “Mind if I take a look?” 

 

Claire looked away discreetly, eyes landing on the window outside. From where she was sitting, she could see TerraSave's headquarters in the distance, the sight bringing back possibilities that had taken the backseat but never left her mind.

 

She'd been so sure they could've figured things out, but she'd been too much of a coward to call. And once again, they'd met not out of their own volition to work things out, but because of an event that had left them without options.

 

“Well, there are no signs of infection, your vitals are perfect,” the other man said, breaking through Claire's thoughts after giving a quick, efficient look. “I'll bring the doctor back and you should be able to go home today.”

 

They both nodded, whispering quiet thanks as they were left alone again.

 

“Well, you're getting out sooner than I expected” Claire said, leaning back against the stiff chair she'd spent too many hours in lately.

 

“I’ve built up resistance, I guess.” Leon shifted in the bed, trying not to wince as he turned to face her. He was watching her again, besides just watching her, he was gauging just how guilty he felt about her being there. “You don't have to stay, I– I can figure something out.”

 

“Figure something out?” she echoed, almost annoyed at how normal this seemed to be for him. “What, you'll go back in a taxi?”

 

He sighed, dragging a hand down his face like it could rub the fatigue off. “I'll be fine,” he reassured her.

 

“Leon, just–” she started, then paused, because none of the thousand things she wanted to say were safe. So she swallowed and steadied her voice. “Just let me drive you back.”

 

“You don't have to.”

 

“I know.”

 

 

 

That shut him up for a moment. The silence was heavy, like it got whenever anything that wasn't small talk came up, always on the cusp of turning into all the things they hadn't said in weeks. Or months, depending on when the clock really started.

 

Twenty-eight weeks and she still caught him staring like the truth hadn't sunk in yet.

 

“You sure?”     

 

“Stop,” she said. “I wouldn't be here if I wasn't sure. It was in my plans anyway.”

 

---

  

 

 

The ride back was quiet, neither of them trusting their voices not to betray them and start having a conversation they weren't ready for. 

 

He could almost reach out and place his hand on her thigh, he wanted to. But he didn't dare, so he settled for silence. 

 

Claire's eyes were on the road, debating if she should say something, if the injury was enough reason to stop dancing around this. 

 

Neither of them spoke, the illusion of things being okay was shattering the closer they got to his apartment. There was no reason for them to talk anymore, no one they had to convince that they were in love– she could just drop him off and that'd be it until she ran into him again. Maybe New Year's if Sherry could convince him. Would it all start over again then?

 

She shook her head, probably looking silly from the outside, but needing more than just mental strength to not let the thoughts take root. 

 

When they pulled up to his building, Leon didn't argue when she parked the car, didn't argue when she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened her door. Maybe because he knew better, but mostly because he didn't want to risk saying the wrong thing and making her leave. If she'd made up her mind about coming in, even if it was her innate need to help, he wouldn't discourage her, wouldn't hide that he wanted her there just as badly.       

 

Inside, the place was just as he'd left it. Clean, but a little lifeless– marked by Claire's departure. He hadn't even been home long enough to recover from the mental toll that had taken. And here they were again, too far for comfort.

 

Claire hovered near the door after closing it behind them, unsure where she belonged in this space anymore, if it was cruel of her to be here in the first place. 

 

She watched him slightly limp as he made his way to the armrest, sitting with a muted grunt. She lingered for a second longer, then turned and made her way to the back door, sliding the glass door with familiar ease. 

 

The moment the door was open, the sound of paws thudding against the floor echoed across the heavy silence. Rex barreled inside, not even sparing her a glance despite all the times she'd fed him that week. 

 

“Hey, buddy,” Leon whispered as the big shepherd practically climbed onto the couch, careful only by years of training– they were similar that way, she supposed. 

 

Needing something to do other than watch him, Claire slipped into the kitchen. The silence was stuck like a knot around her neck, enough to choke her if it didn't stop. She filled a glass with water, went back to the living room and handed it to him without a word. A truce. 

 

Leon took it, brushing her fingers by accident, or maybe she could pretend it hadn't been. Their hands lingered for a second too long, and neither said anything about it. 

 

“Thanks,” he whispered, watching as she turned back to the kitchen, busying herself with things that didn't really need tidying. 

 

“Claire, you don't have to–”

 

“I'm just lowering everything you might need from the top shelves,” she explained.

 

“I'm sure I can reach them just fine.”

 

“You're limping.”

 

“I've had worse.”

 

She turned, arms crossing. She knew that was true, which made this so much heavier. “You couldn't even sit down without wincing.”

 

He looked up at her, frustration flickering in his eyes. Not anger, but overdue conversations that up to this point had led to the same thing over and over again. 

 

And what good would it be if it just worked to drive them further apart? If he confessed that he was hurt, wouldn't that just be proof enough that they'd never escape this? That, with or without her, danger would follow; that the best he could do was keep her shielded from it. 

 

“I'm okay,” he whispered. “You can stop worrying.”

 

“You're not okay,” she snapped, too quickly. “And I know you wouldn't be saying it if you didn't think it'd make me feel better. It doesn't.”

 

Leon didn't answer right away. He just looked at her, and something in his expression softened, but it only fueled her rant. 

 

“You think I'm not aware of how much this takes from you? Cause, yeah, I know you've had much worse. I've seen you come back with bruises and blood, and– and half your bones broken, and you still say you're fine like it's some badge of honor.”

 

Maybe she needed to say this more than he needed to listen to it, which was reason enough for him to remain quiet.  

 

“I didn't–...” she began, “I didn't want to push you away… and I understand why I did. But when I– when I got the call that you'd been injured, I guess I–”  

 

Her throat closed up, the words catching somewhere in the mess and guilt that came with realizing, not for the first time, how fragile their life was. 

 

This was it, he thought. Everything she'd said was a list of the reasons they wouldn't work. Why he didn't belong in the life she was hoping for. 

 

And he was bracing for it, torn between begging for a chance and letting her go to live the life she deserved. 

 

“I thought you were dying,” she said, steadier now, as if pushing it out fast enough would stop the tears. “And then leaving felt so insignificant. Which is stupid ‘cause you’re always near death, and it's exactly what I feared would happen…”

 

“We don't–... we don't have to talk about it, Claire,” he offered. She didn't owe him an apology, and he certainly didn't want one if it meant closure. 

 

She shook her head, looking away and ignoring the way her eyes burned. “No. We do. We do have to talk about it. I want to talk about it,” she almost pleaded. 

 

Leon didn't move. He wasn't sure he could speak even if he tried to.  

 

“Okay.”

 

She took a deep breath, sitting down slowly on the couch in front of him, her hand moving automatically to her stomach, a motion gentle, familiar, and enough to make his chest ache.

 

“I thought I had it figured out, y'know…” she started, her voice quiet but steady, even if her fingers were gripping the edge of her sweater like it was the only thing anchoring her. “With Jack.”

 

The name hung over them like a ghost, a memory so bitter it was piled with horrors common people couldn't even begin to imagine. Just saying it tasted like venom in her mouth, falling from her lips like a declaration of defeat. 

 

“I thought it was enough,” she sniffled, pausing but still not looking into his eyes. “But then I saw you on New Year's, and I just knew it'd never be.”

 

He remembered that night too well, he'd replayed it over and over after he'd dropped her off at her place. The memory cut deeper than any wound. He could still remember the way she'd looked across the room, the way the smoke had curled around her as she talked to him for the first time in months. 

 

“I remember you asked me… if he made me happy or just numb.”

 

“I did.”

 

“He made me miserable,” she answered. “And I– I think I was too proud to admit it… to you, especially– that he was just another vice to make everything more bearable.”

 

Normally the silence would've driven her crazy, but now it just felt like patience, the willingness to hear whatever words could ease even a fraction of the lingering pain in her chest.  

 

“I was gonna break up with him,” she whispered shakily, “before I found out I was pregnant. I knew we were done. I just thought– maybe we could've figured something out. For her.”

 

The statement didn't really surprise him, though it didn't make it hurt less– how long she'd spent convinced it was the best she could do.

 

“I didn't know who else to call,” she admitted. “I don't even remember dialing. Just my fingers moving and then your voice. I didn't mean to drag you into this mess.”

 

Leon shook his head gently, “You didn't drag me into anything, Claire. I went because you needed someone. That was enough.” 

 

She looked up, and he added, quieter now, “You could've been halfway across the world… I would've figured a way to get to you.”

 

That pulled a small, tearful smile from her. “I know. I never doubted that.”

 

Her gaze locked with his, and it stole the air from her lungs. Those blue eyes, raw and tired and still impossibly warm. A lifeline and a constant through every version of him that had ever loved her. 

 

“I never meant for any of it to happen the way it did,” she said, her voice cracking. “And I'm sorry we're even having this conversation like this, but– I was right back then. We can't keep doing this… whatever this is.”

 

Leon nodded slowly. Sure, he'd understood it– it hadn't topped him from wishing it weren't true.

 

“I know.”

 

Claire buried her head in her hands, allowing herself just a few seconds of ignoring this was all happening. “I wasn't– I didn't even know if we'd broken up,” she admitted, “when I found out about the mission, I–... I hoped we hadn't. That maybe it was just an unspoken break we'd come back from.”

 

He didn't answer right away, hiding just how much it resonated with his own thoughts– how many nights he'd laid awake wondering if there was even a small window for him to come back. 

 

“Did you want it to be?”

 

Claire dropped her hands from her face, blinking at him through a blur of unshed tears. “A break?" she asked. “Yeah. I think I did.”

 

He stood, slow and stiff, but not wincing this time. Not because the pain was gone, but because some things hurt worse. 

 

Claire looked over at him, instinctively reaching to steady him if he faltered. But despite the obvious strain in his body, he lowered himself beside her on the couch, steading himself with a hand on her knee.

 

“Do you still think I'd stay just because I feel like I have to?” he asked, his voice low, echoing the words she'd uttered the day she learned he had to leave. 

 

She swallowed down the lump in her throat, looking down at his hands as she mulled over the question. “I’m still scared that you will,” she confessed. “I'm scared that I'll look at you one day and see you trying so hard to love a life you felt like you had no choice but to take.”

 

He didn't look away. His face didn't soften, not quite, but something in it shifted. A quiet ache settled in his expression, and for a moment she almost wished he'd looked away. Sadness she could take. Pity, she couldn't bear. 

 

“And it'd be so-...” she gulped, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “It would've been so different if it'd been you from the start.”

 

He stilled.

 

“You mean…?” his eyes drifted for a beat, landing gently on the curve of her belly. The image of what could've been, what might've been if fate had been kinder… it'd never really left his mind.

 

Claire nodded, her teeth catching her bottom lip. “If she was yours, yeah.”

 

Silence came over them for a moment, thick and heavy with all the versions of their life that could've unfolded. He let out a breath, but before he could speak, she went on.

 

“It would've–... It wouldn't have been easy either, but–” she said, voice cracking through the calm. “It would've been easier to define, I guess.”

 

“Yeah, I–” he said, ”I think it would've been.”

 

“Cause now, it's–” she met his gaze almost sheepishly. “She's not Jack's. I'll never let her be Jack's, that's not– that's not the problem…” A small pause, and then the root of all their problems; the reason this hadn't been as easy as getting over themselves was because the kid needed them to. “But she's not yours either.”

 

He nodded, understanding that, despite how it made his heart break, she didn't say it to be cruel– quite the contrary. She'd always considered it unfair to put the consequences of a foolish man's actions on another man who’d done nothing but love her. A man who wouldn't have doubted his role if it'd been clear from the start. 

 

His words came out shakier than either of them expected, but truer than perhaps anything he'd said in his life. 

 

“She's yours, Claire… That's enough for me.”

 

She closed her eyes, hoping that she wouldn't let him see just how deep his words had broken the last defense she'd been holding. But she'd learned it early on– fighting tears had become futile. 

 

She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to hold it in, but it was too late. Her shoulders trembled, and then she was crying, really crying, like she hadn't since before she knew how much it hurt to need someone. Crying like the little girl in her who'd always dreamed of this, and the woman who, for years, had believed she didn't deserve it– still did sometimes. 

 

It took him a second to move– not out of hesitation, but caution, like he wasn't sure his touch would be welcomed. But when he saw the way she folded in on herself, he pulled her into him with a carefulness that made her cry harder. Not someone saving her, just someone staying. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she choked into his chest. “I didn't mean to– God, I didn't want it to turn into this.”

 

“I know,” he whispered, his lips brushing her hair, holding her like he could chase away every thought that had robbed her of her peace. “I've never ever blamed you. For anything.”

 

She shook her head, pressing her face tighter against him, her breaths shaky against his ribs, still mindful of the pain he was ignoring so he could hold her. It took her a moment to speak again, and when she did, her voice was thick and trembling. 

 

“This has always been my dream, it– it doesn't have to be yours.”  

 

He pulled back enough to look at her, and the sight of her red eyes, her exhaustion, it was just as painful as the injury that reminded him why he'd never allowed it to be his dream too. 

 

“I just never thought it was possible.”

 

She met his eyes with a sniffle, trying to find in them a way to fix this, to move forward and stop the cycle of pretending they'd ever be happy without each other.

 

“But then I'd picture you living that life, and–” he paused. “I don't want to be around the edges of it, Claire.”

 

“And if you tell me that– for whatever reason– you don't want me involved in this,” he continued. “I’ll let go of it.”

 

Claire shook her head before he could go down that path. Maybe it was the rational thing. Maybe they’d have saved themselves from a heartbreak they didn't know was possible. 

 

But then she'd imagine running into him, just like she had in New Year's, and there was no version of her that could pretend it wouldn't break them again, that would no doubt just open this wound. 

 

“I can't,” Claire whispered. “I do want you involved. I just don't know what that looks like.”

 

His expression cracked, the edges of restraint falling away. “I don't either.”

 

Claire leaned into his chest, his arms steady around her, her breath catching as it settled into something slower. Something real. 

 

Maybe they'd been looking at it wrong all along. Maybe it wasn't about whether or not they wanted it, but how they could get it.

 

“It doesn't have to be all or nothing,” her voice broke the silence. Jill had told her that a long time ago. Claire had nodded then, pretending it helped. But only now did she feel it.

 

Leon didn't answer right away, his hand moving in slow circles on her back. “You don't have to know today,” he said quietly. “We don't have to figure it out tonight. But we will figure it out.”

 

She nodded, although she had to bite back the urge to say that they should’ve figured it out long ago– that they should've been clear from the start. But then again, neither had expected it to drag on for so long.

 

“I’d like that.”

 

Claire's hand found his face, thumb catching the tear before it could fall further, though there were more that followed.  

 

Leon didn't move. Didn't speak, perhaps his tears said more than he could. He just let her touch bring him back, even in the middle of a storm they didn't know how to name. 

 

“I'm sorry, too,” he whispered. “I keep thinking if I'd just said something earlier…”

 

“We could've done a lot of things differently,” she cut him off gently. “It doesn't matter anymore.”

 

Another tear slipped down, trailing over the curve of her finger. 

 

“It did matter to me,” he said after a pause– so soft it almost got lost between them. “You had so much going on, I just– the least I could do was stay out of the way.”

 

Claire shook her head, brushing her thumb gently across his cheek. “You weren't in the way. You've never been in the way. We just–... I think we don't really know how to make room for anything that doesn't feel like survival.”

 

She let out a breath that trembled at the edges, her fingers sliding to the back of his neck. There was something about seeing him like this– unguarded, crying because they couldn't deny they'd hurt each other– that made the ache in her chest twist into a tenderness she didn't even fully recognize. 

 

“She doesn't need perfect,” she whispered. “Took me a long time to accept that… she just needs people who show up.”

 

His eyes followed her hand, then lifted to her face again. “And what about you?”

 

Claire blinked.

 

“What do you need?” he asked, not pressing, just asking– just willing to hear the answer, no matter how messy it might be. 

 

“Just knowing you're on my side.”

 

He looked at her, eyebrows furrowing slightly. Out of everything she could have asked, she'd asked for something that had always been true. Something that would've been true no matter how this unfolded.

 

“I am on your side, Claire,” he said. No hesitation. Just the truth, simple and a guiding light ever since he'd met her. “And I want to be by your side for as long as you'll let me.”  

 

Claire's breath caught at his words, her heart stopping and going faster all together. The words wouldn't leave her mouth, so she just nodded, like a promise. 

 

Her gaze flicked down to his mouth, then back to his eyes. She leaned in, slow, careful of the delicate state they were still in. She stopped just short, close enough to feel his breath, not close enough to close the distance.

 

Leon didn't move forward. 

 

But his hand lifted, threading through her hair and then steading against the side of her head. Not pulling her in. Not asking. A silent yes, if she wanted it. 

 

She caved, not out of weakness, but out of strength to accept this was what she wanted. No need to overthink, to weigh the past against the future. Just that moment, just him. 

 

Her lips met his almost shyly, like it was the first time they did, like the world was ending tomorrow and this was all they had. 

 

It wasn't rushed, though it felt desperate in a way, a limbo between everything they'd been and everything they were hoping to become. 

 

And he was kissing her back like it was everything he'd been missing. She pulled back first, suddenly needing to look into his eyes, to see the promise in them. 

 

“I missed you,” she whispered, the words breaking as they left her mouth, not in grief, just relief. She meant much more than just the time he'd been away on his mission.

 

“I never stopped, Claire.”

 

Her breath caught as he leaned in again, their foreheads resting together, the moment heavy with everything they couldn't bring themselves to say yet and everything they no longer had to. 

 

He'd said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. Loving her was never the part he questioned. She let out a soft laugh, a broken one that sounded too much like a sob. How stupid they'd been. 

 

“We'll figure it out,” he promised.

 

She pulled back just enough to see his face again– really see it. The quiet steadiness, the eyes that had seen her fall down and get up stronger each time. 

 

Her hand reached for his, how steady they'd been to lift her up when she'd felt like there was no reason to. 

 

Then, with a softness that carried no grand gesture, she led it gently just above her navel. 

 

She felt it first, then she saw it on his face. 

 

“Was that–?”

 

Claire smiled, a real one this time. “She knows you're here.”

 

He looked down, fingers trembling over the spot, and this time when the tears came, he didn't try to stop them. Claire kissed the corner of his mouth, then the side of his jaw. 

 

They had time. As long as they were alive, they had time. 

 

“You're still going with Lucy?”

 

She nodded softly. “Never really had a backup plan. It just feels right.”

 

Leon nodded through his tears, brushing the back of his knuckles gently over the spot where the girl had made herself known. 

 

“It does feel right.”

 

They sat in the quiet for a moment, letting themselves soak in the fact that this wasn't temporary, that it wasn't a goodbye like their last one had been.

 

Claire grazed her fingers alongside the bandage over his ribs, looking up at him and begging for honesty. “You sure you'll be okay?”

 

”Yeah,” he nodded. “I’ve really had worse.”

 

She hummed, giving him a look half amused, half pleading. 

 

“I’ll be okay,” he reassured, taking her hand in his. “I mean it.” 

 

“Okay.” She sighed, debating something in her mind. “I should probably head home,” she said quietly. “Let you rest. Let us… think.” 

 

She didn’t want to go. That much was clear. But she needed to— if only to prove that they weren’t rushing back into it just because she’d almost lost him. That the ground they were standing on was strong enough to last. That this time they’d come back by choice; not bad luck. 

 

Leon’s hand tightened gently around hers, the invitation to stay the night dying on his lips. Then he nodded. “When will I see you again?”

 

Claire’s smile came slow but sure. “I can stop by tomorrow.” 

 

He nodded, something easing on his shoulders “Okay. I’d like that.”

 

She leaned in once more, kissed him, still soft but still certain. Not goodbye. She didn’t let go of his hand until she stood up. 

 

“Don't do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

 

“I would, but I can barely stand.”

    

A quiet laugh slipped out of her, real and warm, a sound that had played on moments he’d thought were his last. 

 

She turned to Rex, bending slightly to pat his head. “You keep him out of trouble, alright?” 

 

She turned back to Leon when she reached the door, giving him a last glance before opening it. 

 

“I’ll see you soon,” she said.

 

And this time they both knew she meant it. That she’d choose to.

Notes:

Okay soooooo. I love them y’know they wouldn’t be fighting for long.

I need to yap about the TerraSave thing. That wasn’t even something I came up with for this fic, it’s just something I wish capcom would do. I know, and I hope it was clear that I think what Claire does within their universe is veryyy important, but is it to her best potential? I don’t think so. Is the BSAA a better option? Debatable when every agency is revealed to be corrupted later on. But for the sake of this fic I do think it’s the best option she has.

Hope you liked it, I’m always eager to hear your thoughts <333

PS: plz listen to the album ‘Forever is a Feeling’ by Lucy Dacus it’s incredibly cleon coded. And ‘Virgin’ by Lorde is SO CLaire, it’s insane. And ofc this chapter’s title is from Peace by Taylor.

Chapter 12: Look at us, you and I, back at it again

Summary:

Sherry comes visit. Claire forgets a small detail.

Notes:

I'm sure you all hate to see me come here with excuses so I just made a long ass chapter to make up for it. And! No more angst :P Not between them at least.
Anyway, enjoy. I'll save my rambling for the end note!

Your comments keep me going, so please feel free to do that. Love you all <<33

August 9th- ten days later

 

When Claire had first moved to Washington, there was nothing that haunted her more than the silence– though it wasn't a quiet city by any means. 

 

New York had been loud enough to drown the loneliness: to remind her that life moved on, with or without her.  

 

But TerraSave had needed her closer. She was good at what she did, and she couldn't run from it forever. Besides, Chris and Jill were here. 

 

Leon had been there since he was recruited. 

 

Perhaps she'd moved in at just the right time. He was busier than ever, recognized as the government's top agent to anyone who knew anything about the shitshow that had happened in Spain.

 

She'd called him once, expecting nothing more than a friendly catch up. Maybe a promise to see each other more than once a year. 

 

He'd agreed. And when she mentioned she lived in DC now, he'd almost sounded happy. 

 

They'd met at a café near the White House. Claire almost didn't recognize him at first. He had changed, there was no denying it. He moved like a person who had no reason to doubt if he belonged, and yet she'd caught him blushing more than once. 

 

They hadn't called it a date, but by the end of it, he'd promised to see her a second time. 

 

By the end of her second week in DC, he'd presented her with a key, a non-conditional entry to his place if she ever needed it– if the nightmares he knew she had ever got too much.  

 

She'd accepted it. Because maybe the city didn't have to be so lonely.  

 

The rest was history. A complicated, sometimes infuriating history. But reason enough to understand why she'd always struggled to let him go. 

 

As soon as her new landlord had given her the key to the new place, she'd made three copies. 

 

They weren't a display of trust now, nor a romantic gesture. 

 

Claire had never been paranoic, but she was realistic. And maybe a little nervous about how impending motherhood felt. 

 

If something happened to her, if she had to go to the hospital earlier than expected, she'd rather just live in peace knowing that no doors would have to be knocked down. 

 

So, Jill and Chris each got one. And despite their promise to take things slow, she'd never doubted giving Leon one.

 

For safety concerns, obviously. 

 

But it had also proven useful in situations like this one, when she could ask him to stop by early in the morning and not have to bother with getting up to open the door. 

 

He had a surprisingly stealthy way of moving for someone his size, or maybe she'd slept deep enough to not hear him come in. But she didn't realize he was there until she felt a hand on her shoulder that made her wake up in a jolt, too shaken to remember she'd asked him to come in. 

 

“Good morning,” he whispered, soft enough to not chase the sleep away.

 

She closed her eyes with a soft whine; she didn't think eight hours were enough anymore. “You scared me.”

 

“Sorry.” He smiled, standing up with a groan of his own. “You had an alarm ringing when I came in… figured I'd wake you in case it was about work or something.”

 

Claire shifted on the bed, eyes still closed, trying to remember if it was indeed a work thing, but she didn't usually work on weekends.

 

“Twas’ just to wake up before you arrived,” she mumbled, making no effort to get up, or to wake up for that matter. 

 

“Yeah, how'd that work out?” he asked, not expecting an answer but finding this nothing short of amusing. “You keep on sleeping then.”

 

She didn't need to hear it twice, or hear him at all, really. Five seconds passed and she was sound asleep again. 

 

He shook his head, still lingered before going to the kitchen. Claire waking up before nine on a free day was a nice idea, but it'd remain just that. Unless she was in so much stress she’d wake up at five am and not go back to sleep. 

 

He was fine with waiting until she woke up on her own. They had a few hours until Sherry's flight landed, after all. 

 

---

 

By the time she woke up again, the clock on her nightstand read 9:49. She wasn't even awake enough to hate herself for it.

 

She sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with a heavy sigh. She could sleep more, no doubt, but her bladder was screaming at her to get up, and so she did.

 

It woke her up enough to function, and to catch the smell of bacon and maple coming from the kitchen once she stepped out of the bathroom. 

 

She padded slowly out of the bedroom, past the hallway and box-filled future nursery, and into the common area. Another turn, and then–

 

“Good morning,” he smiled, glancing over his shoulder as she walked in. “Again.”

 

Her heart sank a little, a familiar sense of unbridled love and with just the right amount of guilt. 

 

“I didn't mean to sleep in so late,” she apologized, sitting down on the chair by the kitchen island, watching the methodical way he made breakfast. “You could've woken me up.”

 

“I tried,” he corrected with a smug smile, turning around to fully face her, sliding a cup of still-warm lavender tea in her direction. “I'm sure you needed the sleep.”

 

She gave him a look, but the corner of her mouth tugged upward, as she took the mug into her hand. “You didn't get too bored without me?”

 

“Bored enough to make breakfast.”

 

She crossed the small kitchen, touching his good side lightly as she reached for the vitamins she knew she'd forget later. 

 

“How's the injury?” she asked, watching him closer as he turned off the kitchen and stacked food on two plates. 

 

“It's getting better,” he reassured, and though she saw how it still slowed him down, he looked nowhere near as weak as he had at first. 

 

“I'll help you clean it after we eat,” she offered casually. 

 

He was about to protest, to tell her she didn't have to, but he chose to stay quiet instead. 

 

Claire had a very particular way of saying thank you. And he had a very particular way of telling her there was no need to. So he just smiled and nodded.

 

They sat down to eat: bacon and waffles. No eggs because apparently she had an aversion now. 

 

“Sherry said her flight gets here in the afternoon,” Leon said between bites. “Said she's excited about helping you finish the nursery.”

 

Claire raised an eyebrow. “Should I be scared?”

 

“Definitely.” He smirked. “But until I'm able-bodied again, she's the best chance you've got at getting it.”

 

She laughed, shaking her head, “I guess it could wait a bit more.”

 

“But you're excited to see it finished, don't deny it.”

 

Claire hummed, taking a sip of her tea. “Besides, Sherry seemed eager to have something to do… even when I told her a million times I was just happy she was visiting.”

 

“Let her go at it, then.”

 

They ate at an easy pace, accompanied only by the soft sounds of the city waking up. And still it was quieter than her old place– quiet enough to imagine this type of morning every day. 

 

A strand of hair fell forward and caught against her lip, and he reached out and brushed it back before she could even notice it. Then his hand settled between her shoulder blades as he finished eating. 

 

“You've got that look,” he noted. 

 

“What look?”

 

“You're thinking about something.”

 

Claire huffed a laugh. “I'm always thinking about something.”

 

“Well, what are you thinking right now?”

 

Everything. Nothing. Sherry visiting always made her nostalgic, especially now that it was less common.

 

She turned to face him more fully. “I'm happy to see her.” She paused, leaning back against his hand. “But I don't know… it feels like I'm forgetting something.”

 

He only shrugged, that infuriatingly calm, knowing smile still in place. 

 

“You should go get a shower,” he said, taking both their plates to the sink. “Relax, y'know… get ready for when Sherry storms in with a power drill.”

 

Claire tilted her head at him, eyes narrowing like she was trying to see if there was a hidden agenda there. He seemed to be in a particularly good mood. “Are you kicking me out of my own kitchen?”

 

“Just giving you a head start to get ready,” he said, rinsing the plates and placing them on the dish washer. “And yes.”

 

Claire shook her head, but the protest in her mouth faded before it formed. She stood up with that ever-present ache in her back, making her way near the sink. 

 

“Fine. And thank you for breakfast.”

 

He turned just in time for her to lean in and kiss his cheek. Quick, casual, but still enough to leave him smiling. 

 

“When I'm out I'm changing that dressing. No arguments,” she said. 

 

Leon nodded. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

 

He watched as she disappeared back into the hallway, the faint sound of running water hitting his ears a few minutes later. Truth was, although they hadn't properly lived together in years, mornings like this one brought glimpses of a life that simply made sense. 

 

He moved over to the living room, sinking into the couch with the calm of knowing things were getting better, but the ache of an injury that still made itself known. 

 

With not much left to do, he checked his phone– purposefully left on silent that day. Hunnigan, of course, had been the first to text him, perhaps the reason he even remembered the date. A few other coworkers he barely remembered. Ashley. And Sherry, despite knowing she'd see him later, had reached out like every other year. 

 

It was about thirty minutes later that Claire stepped out of the shower, hair still damp and clinging to her skin, frame hugged by the fluffy robe that had become her at-home uniform. 

 

She stepped into the living room, alcohol and an unopened pack of gauze in her hand. Leon was sitting on the same place, one arm slung lazily over the back of the couch, the sunlight through the blinds making his eyes look impossibly bluer.

She set the things on the coffee table and eased down beside him.

 

“Alright, let's see it,” she said, reaching for the hem of his shirt with a casualness that felt a little forced. She just had to focus. 

 

He let her, watching her every move with a faint curve in his mouth. 

 

Her hands were steady as she removed the old dressing. Methodical. The injury wasn't terrible– not by their standards, anyway– but it'd been enough to scare her, to remember what it felt like to almost lose him. She could feel his gaze on her, heavy and patient and full of everything she was still too scared to say out loud. 

 

“Does this take you back?” Her fingers delicately smoothed along the freshly placed dressing over his ribs. 

 

He let out a short breath that could've been a laugh. It had taken them little over a decade to be able to remember those early days without flinching, but she was right– there was a comfort in the memory. 

 

“It does,” he confirmed, smiling in a way that made her chest ache. 

 

Nearly eleven years ago, she'd been crouched beside him in some low-life motel, careful not to wake up Sherry. She'd been patching up a very different injury: his first. She still remembered how her hands had shaken. The scar was still there if she looked closely enough, if she reached out and felt the rough edges that had once been enough to make them realize survival was nothing but mere luck.   

 

She smoothed the last piece of medical tape into place, leaning back just enough to admire her work. It felt just as nice taking care of him now as it had back then.

 

“All done,” she declared.

 

“Thank you, doctor.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “You're lucky you didn't puncture something. The rest is just bonus.”

 

“Well I'd say this is a very good bonus.”

 

Claire shook her head, then she rounded the couch, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind. “Don't get used to it.”

 

He chuckled, a soft wince in it. His hand caught hers just as she was pulling back, hoping to keep her there even a few seconds more. Of course, she complied, and for a moment they just stayed like that: fingers tangled loosely and no rush to prove anything. 

 

“I should get ready before we have to pick Sherry up,” she whispered against his cheek.

 

“I think that's a good idea, yeah.”

 

She sighed, pulling apart and turning to make her way back to the bedroom. She left the robe draped over the bed, changing into a pair of jeans and a soft sweater. 

 

As she brushed her damp hair, she glanced at the clutter on the dresser, at the alarm clock on her nightstand. Didn't she have a meeting or something? Or was the feeling of forgetting just a new constant in her life? Pregnancy brain, she thought they called it.

 

But then, she froze, hairbrush stopping mid-strand. 

 

Fuck . 

 

She walked back to the living room, stopping right in front of the couch, her face was mostly confused. 

 

“Is today August ninth?”

 

He blinked at her, masking his amusement with careful neutrality. “Yeah.”

 

“And you weren't planning on saying anything?” she asked, her voice carrying that frustrated edge he'd already anticipated when she inevitably realized– more self-directed than pointed at him.

 

“Not particularly.”

 

She let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. She wasn't sure if him brushing it off made her feel better or just more like an idiot. “Leon… I completely forgot. I've been–”

 

“Worried about a million other things?” he ventured, pushing himself up from the couch. He came to stand in front of her so she'd have no choice but to meet his eyes when he told her it didn't matter. “Which is exactly why I didn't say anything.”

 

She bit her lip, studying his face for even a flicker of disappointment. But there was nothing– no trace of hurt or that wrinkle next to his eyebrow when he was lying.

 

“I've never made a big deal out of birthdays,” he went on. “It's just another day. And I'd rather be with you than… doing whatever else I'd be doing.”

 

“I still feel like a jerk.”

 

“Well, don't.” He shook his head, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Besides, there's nothing really exciting about thirty-two. Thirty? Sure. Everything after that? I'd rather stop counting.”

 

She rolled her eyes, but her lips curved up anyway. “Am I really the last person to tell you happy birthday?”

 

He tilted his head, his look smug enough to make her annoyed– if she didn't find it so endearing, that was. “Technically? You haven't even said happy birthday yet.”

 

Her eyes narrowed in mock offense. “Seriously?”

 

He just shrugged.

 

She huffed out a laugh and shook her head, brushing past his dramatics. “Right…” 

 

“Happy birthday.” She stepped closer until she could feel the heat radiating off him. “I'm sorry I forgot about it.”

 

He started to smirk, but it faltered the second she leaned in and kissed him, his hands moving mindlessly to her hips. It wasn't long, wasn't deep, but it was sure. 

 

When she pulled back, her hands lingered lightly at the sides of his face. “Happy now?”

 

“Mhm. Maybe,” he answered, leaning down to kiss her again. And again, and again, until she was laughing against his mouth.

 

“Leon–” she tried to protest, but her hands were still cradling his jaw. “You're ridiculous.”

 

“Well, I think I get a pass, cause someone forgot my birthday.”

 

“Oh, so now it matters?”

 

“I think you made up for it.”

 

She shook her head, laughing again. She didn't particularly want to stop, but she did promise herself they'd take things slow. 

 

“Alright,” he sighed, squeezing her hip before letting go, “we should get going soon.”

 

Claire hummed, giving him one last quick kiss before stepping back. “Let me grab my bag and we can leave.”

 

“Don't rush on my account,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair. 

 

---

 

The ride to the airport was unexpectedly short, and though Sherry had insisted she could get a taxi to Claire's new place, they'd insisted harder on picking her up. 

 

So now they found themselves waiting in Arrivals, scanning the emerging passengers for any sight of their particular one. 

 

It wasn't hard to spot her, not for a trained professional anyway. Leon spotted her first, his eyes flicking towards the far end of the crowd. “There,” he noted, tilting his chin just enough for Claire to follow his gaze. 

 

Sherry stood a little straighter when she saw them, her face lighting up with the lingering surprise that they'd kept their promise of showing up. 

 

“Sherry,” Claire beamed once the girl was close enough, and as expected, seconds later she was enveloped in a tight hug. “It's so good to see you, hon.”

 

“Oh my god, Claire, you're glowing! It's been forever since I saw you.”

 

Claire chuckled, shaking her head as Sherry leaned back to get a better look at her. “Yeah, well… she's been growing.”

 

“You doing okay though?”

 

“We're perfectly fine,” she reassured, one hand instinctively settling against her belly.

 

“I'm glad to hear that,” Sherry smiled, squeezing Claire's arm before directing her focus to him.

 

“And you, happy birthday!” she said brightly, stepping in to hug him before he could warn her.

 

He accepted it without hesitation, though he stiffened just enough for Claire to notice. It was more instinct that pain, but Sherry's arm landed right against the side still tender from the injury. Still, he didn't pull away, just patted her back and ruffled her hair when she pulled back.

 

“Thank you, Sher.”

 

He took her carry-on, following Claire's lead back to the car. “Flight was okay?”

 

Sherry hummed, looping her arm around Claire's as they walked. “Not too eventful.”

 

The drive back to Claire's was filled with easy chatter, mostly Sherry updating them about her life and asking about theirs. 

 

“We're going to your new place, then?”

 

“That's right,” Claire confirmed. “Moved in properly not that long ago, it's still work in process.”

 

“Well, I'm happy to help you.”

 

Claire smiled. She'd had no doubts about that. Though, if Sherry decided she'd rather use her visit to just lounge around and watch trash TV– well, she wouldn't complain either. 

 

By the time he pulled into Claire's block, Sherry was halfway through a story involving Simmons that had Claire biting the inside of her cheek to not make a comment that would ruin the mood. 

 

He parked the car, rounding it to help Claire get out. His hand remained on her back all the way to the front door, not as much to help her keep her balance as it was to let her know he wasn't a fan of Sherry's situation either. 

 

Claire sighed, letting it go for now. She turned to Sherry with a smiles as she turned the doorknob. “Well, here we are. Make yourself at home.”

 

The place was a mess, still, but Claire was grateful for the distraction. All things considered, it already felt like a house ready to be grown into. 

 

Sherry's eyes took everything in, her gaze sweeping over the box-filled living room and the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Wow, it's really beautiful. Much more spacious.”

 

Claire hummed, leaning against the wall with a tired sigh. “Yeah, but it's not big enough to feel empty, y'know?”

 

“Yeah, it feels homey already,” Sherry smiled. 

 

Claire led her through the rest of the apartment, showing Sherry the kitchen, maybe the most tidy area at the moment. Then, she showed her the living room, still a work in progress but undeniably coming together. 

 

“Oh, look at that,” Sherry observed. “You actually have a yard now.”

 

“Yeah.” She opened the door leading to a small green area, happy that Sherry had noticed. “Kids like grass and stuff… Figured it wouldn't hurt to have a little place for her.”   

 

Sherry huffed a laugh, taking in the new space and visualizing exactly that. “Or a puppy,” she suggested, her voice as mischievous as it's been back then. 

 

“You sure you're not asking that for yourself?” Leon chimed in, his amusement matching the one on Claire's face. 

 

“I'll get her one when you're not looking.”

 

“I'm sure you will.”

 

The tour moved to the main bedroom, not much said about it. Finally they reached the room that clearly excited Sherry most. 

 

“I see you've gone a little overboard with the stuffed animals,” she tease, eyes sweeping the vast assortment of teddy bears, bunnies, and all kinds of other animals ready to welcome a very loved baby. 

 

Claire smirked, folding her arms. “I actually haven't bought a single one. Those are all from Chris and Jill.” 

 

Sherry laughed, shaking her head. “That doesn't surprise me at all… but it does mean I need to step up my game.”

 

“Yeah, you and I both,” Leon agreed, leaning against the doorframe as he watched Sherry probably visualizing everything that could be done with the space.

 

“You're doing important work, though… keeping Claire happy and stress-free.” 

 

Leon gave a quiet, almost self-conscious laugh. “I try.”

 

Admittedly, keeping her happy was much easier than keeping her stress-free. And he couldn't deny that he'd done his share of screwing it up and no doubt making it harder. 

 

But then he caught her gaze, for that split second it didn't feel like he was doing so bad after all. Her smile was warm and entirely unguarded, and though she didn't say anything, he felt like breathing again.

 

Sherry noticed, of course, her eyes flicking between them with a knowing look. Some things never changed. 

 

“Well, whatever you're doing, it's working. The place is beautiful, Claire. It feels like a home.”

 

“Thanks, Sherry,” Claire answered, resting a hand on the edge of the crib frame. “I'm sure I'll need a lot of your help, but take it easy tonight, yeah? We’ve still got a lot of catching up to do.”

 

The rest of the afternoon passed by in a way that felt almost too easy– and despite Claire hoping not to make Sherry feel like she only wanted her around for help, the girl had stubbornly insisted on assembling the most physically challenging furniture. 

 

They ordered takeout instead of cooking, eating straight from the cartons in the living room while Sherry continued sharing stories that had them as engaged as it had them nostalgic. 

 

Sherry leaned forward from her spot on the couch, chopsticks in hand. “So… have you picket out a name yet? Or is that a top secret?”

 

Claire smiled around a bite of a dumpling, a smile that revealed her answer before she could. “I do have a name, actually.”

 

Leon glanced at her from the loveseat in front of them. The name was so familiar to him, he hadn't stopped to think it wasn't known yet. 

 

“Oh, you do?” Sherry beamed. “Are you gonna share, or is it a surprise?”

 

Claire's smile softened, her heart would never stop swelling at how Sherry's biggest wishes always seemed to be getting included. “Her name's Lucy.”

 

Her eyes lit up immediately. “Lucy? Oh, Claire, I love it,” she grinned, like she was trying the name out on her tongue, already imagining the little girl it belong to. “It's perfect.”

 

“I'm glad you like it… Took me a while to get it, but she seems to like it.”

 

Sherry smiled wholeheartedly, and she looked genuinely shaken. “And you're both okay, really?”

 

“I promise you we both are,” Claire assured, easing more than one person's worries. “She's good… Active. Very active.”

 

She smiled at Sherry's slightly perplexed expression. It was a weird feeling to describe. She'd have probably found it as unappealing at twenty-three, but now it was a small comfort. 

 

“You wanna feel her? She's been moving around all day, you might catch her at it.”

 

Sherry didn't need to be told twice, she slid closer, placing her hand where Claire guided it. It was quiet for a moment, just the faint hum of the city and the clink of Leon setting his own food aside. 

 

“Oh! I felt that!” she exclaimed in wonder. 

 

Claire chuckled. “Well, there you have it. She's probably saying hi.”

 

“Or wondering who's bothering her again,” Leon proposed with a teasing smile. 

 

Sherry shot him a mock glare, but her voice was still full of wonder. “Doesn't it feel weird?”

 

“It did, at first,” Claire admitted. “Kinda got used to it, though. It was cute for a while, but honestly? I'm ready for it to be over.”

 

“Not before she's ready, though,” she added, her hand absently smoothing over her stomach. 

 

Sherry hummed in sympathy. “Two months isn't that much… it'll fly by.”

 

Claire nodded. She was right. Two months wasn't long at all. There was excitement at the thought, sure, but she'd rather not dwell too much on it before it turned to fear.      

 

By the time they noticed the clock, it was nearing ten. Sherry, despite being the youngest, seemed ready to call it a day. Claire grabbed a pair of blankets from the hall closet, helping her arrange the sofa bed. 

 

“Wake me up if you need anything, alright?” Claire said, squeezing the blonde's shoulder.

 

Sherry nodded, giving her a smile that meant more than words could say. “I will. Don't worry about me.”

 

“Sweet dreams, hon.”

 

“You too.”

 

“Wake me up whenever you do,” Claire said as she walked back to the hallway.

 

Leon stepped in, patting Sherry's shoulder on his way past. “Good luck with that.”

 

From the hallway, she called after him, “I heard you.”

 

He just smirked and followed her down the hallway, not before turning back at Sherry. “Goodnight, I'll see you tomorrow.”

 

He followed Claire quietly down the hallway, turning off the lights on his way there. She paused in front of the bedroom door, leaning against the doorframe and looking up at him. “Would you… like to stay tonight?”

 

“I didn't want to interrupt your sleepover.”

 

Claire huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “Well, first of all, you know Sherry's just as happy as I am for you to stay over.”

 

“Second of all…” she added, reaching for his hand. “I want you to stay over.”  

 

“Ok.” He looked down at her hand, nodding as the smile crept to his face. “If you insist.”

 

She hummed, stepping inside and closing the door gently behind her. The room was cozy despite the mess, already familiar.  

 

Before he could think about sleeping in the only clothes he'd brought, Claire reached into the top drawer of the cabinet, tossing him a shirt and a pair of sweatpants he'd inexplicably stopped seeing months ago. 

 

It didn't even surprise him, neither did the toothbrush in the bathroom. 

 

Perhaps this routine was like riding a bicycle, or, more accurately in their cases, firing a gun: they could go months without it and it'd come back like it never left. 

 

They settled under the covers that he was sure Claire would start desperately shrugging off later in the night. 

 

His hand found her back, gliding between her shoulder blades as he watched her reach for something on her nightstand: a slender candle and a lighter she must've slipped away from the kitchen earlier. 

 

“So you can't say I let it go unnoticed,” she teased, lighting the candle's flame with the steady grace of a smoker. 

 

Leon raised an amused eyebrow, his thumb brushing gently over the back of her neck. “Am I supposed to make a wish?”

 

She nodded, eyes glimmering in the dim lightning. “It's bad luck if you don't.”

 

“And since when are you superstitious?”

 

She shrugged, her smile mischievous as she brought the candle closer to his face. “Are you gonna argue with my dead mother?”

 

Leon's expression softened, warmth shining even through the lightheartedness. “God help me if I do…” 

 

“Alright, then. For your mom. And you, of course.”

 

Claire let out a quiet laugh, her other hand coming to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “Mothers do know best. It's for your own good.”

 

Leon took a slow breath, locking eyes with her before blowing the tiny flame out. The flicker disappeared, leaving only the faint scent of wax lingering between them. 

 

“What’d you wish for?”

 

He tilted his head, a slow smile playing on his lips as his fingers played with the ends of her hair. “Pretty sure I'm not allowed to tell you or it won't come true.”    

 

“Hm, look who's the superstitious one now…” she murmured, her eyes half-lidded, lips quirked up in a won battle.

 

“You caught me,” he relented, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to her temple. 

 

“Happy birthday,” she whispered into the quiet, leaning against him as every reason for this to be a bad idea melted in the warmth of his arms.

 

“It was.”

 

Notes:

Soooooooo..... I love them sm. I was re-reading this whole thing for like the millionth time and it made me realize how much I missed writing this. I'm going back to uni on Monday, but don't worry, I'm on a writing high right now.

Which leads me to another point! This mid-term break has given me time to work not only on this fic but on another very special one I've had planned since FOREVER (literally long before this one). I'm sooooo excited to share that one with you, but I've been working on getting it just right before I make it yours. It is Cleon too, if you were wondering. A last of us crossover, if that might interest you.

DOn't know why I'm teasing it if it's probably months away, but I can't keep secrets.

Anyway, this fic is my baby (speaking of baby, we're really close to that, so...). Seeing the love it's gotten makes me so incredibly happy... I'm gonna be so emotional when it's over.

Sending you lots of hugs as always, I love hearing all your thoughts, and hope the wait was worth it. <333