The Amazing Digital Do-Over: Chapter 2: Welcome to the Freakshow
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The four of us sat down at the café as Caine and Bubble floated away to plot out the next “Fun-filled adventure!”
“You the only ones around here?” I asked, pouring digital steamed milk over digital cocoa powder. Kaufmo finished pouring a cup of joe from the coffee pot, and handed it to me. I filled my cup the rest of the way, then searched for a cream mixer on the counter.
“Other than Kinger and Caine, yeah.” Ribbit replied as she poured the same basic drink she always used to get, a Flat White without any adornment.
At one point, I’d tried to get her to drink something different, but she’d said it was comforting to have something familiar… I think I understand that more than ever now. Hell, knowing her, the caffeinated drink might be a little bit too far from her usual comfort zone.
“Really?” I inquired as I found the mixer, and used it to whip the drink together. “Seems like an awful big place for just four people and a rogue AI.”
Ragatha fidgeted uncomfortably.
“It didn't used to.” She said vaguely. I knew what she meant, but getting her to say it would be difficult.
“So, what's you guys’ deal?” I asked as I sniffed at the hot-chocolate coffee mixture I'd frothed up. “How'd you three wind up here?”
“I was a game tester,” Kaufmo volunteered, “got hired by Google to work on something called the Mental Environment Simulation System, some kinda full-dive they acquired when they bought a company called C&A. Put on the headset, woke up in here dressed like a clown.”
What's the endgame here, Jax? I wondered. Isn't that the fifteen-thousand Bitcoin question? Well, trying to keep my distance from the others obviously didn't work last time… So, if I want to keep them from Abstracting… if I want to make it out of all of this, something's gotta change. And even if it hurts, it'll be a different kind of hurt than the first time through.
“So you thought you were going in to squish bugs and wound up stuck here, huh?” I asked Kaufy. “Must’ve been an adjustment.”
“I'm never taking on a VR project after this.” He replied with a nod and a laugh. “And I'm gonna hold the project director down and shave his moustache when I get out. Can't complain much, though, this'll make a hell of a writeup when I get out.”
But are you really gonna bear your soul to them all at once?
“What about you, Rags?” I asked Ragatha. “How's a doll like you wind up in here?”
“Oh!” She exclaimed. “Not much to it, really. I'm a real estate agent out in the real world, and when I was at the office assessing the premises, I found a headset. Put it on, and, well… here I am!”
Maybe not all at once, but you can't just try and pretend you're above everything anymore. We know where that ended.
“How about you, froggy?” I asked.
Worse comes to worst, we'll probably just do it all again, huh?
“I'm not very interesting.” She said, guardedly. “Moved to Cali from Utah, tried to get a data entry job, found some old VR gear packed away in the corner, and suddenly I’m a frog.”
“Hey Kaufmo, have you tried kissing her?” I asked the clown with a jeering raise of my eyebrows. “Maybe she'll turn back into a beautiful princess.”
Ribbit blushed, and turned away bashfully.
“I don't think Caine would allow that.” Ragatha interjected.
“Well what the !@#$%, why not?”
Oh right, the censor’s back, ‘cus Caine's not dead yet.
Everyone cringed at the censor sound.
“What the hell was that?” I asked, recoiling as though I were surprised.
Caine appeared behind us with a cartoonish POPping sound.
“No swearing in the circus, please!” He said loud enough to make my digital ears digitally wince in the enclosed space. “Think of the children at home!”
“What children?” I asked incredulously. “What sadistic fool would let their kids watch a bunch of lovable cartoons suffer in virtual reality?” I asked as I sat down my drink, turned and clutched my hands together, batting my eyes innocently at Caine.
Before you all jump down my throat, I get it. The irony is not lost on me. I grew up watching Looney Tunes, which may have contributed to my virtual visage, come to think of it, and I always found it entertaining when the cartoons suffered the consequences of their actions.
“So if this is a show,” I continued as I dropped the Bugs Bunny act, thinking back to an old comedy routine my dad had on a vinyl record as I lounged back, retrieving my chocolate coffee with an inhuman motion of my arms. “I probably can't say !@#$%, !@#$%, !@#$%, !@#$%sucker, mother!@#$%er, or !@#$%.”
Caine looked at me blankly as I smugly sipped my drink.
“No, no you can't.”
“Are those FCC rules, or your own?” I asked before I took another sip. “‘cus !@#$% hasn't been on the list for a while now, they say it on Nickelodeon now.”
“I have my rules, Jax.”
“What about !@#$%hole?”
Caine narrowed his teeth at me.
“Did that answer your question?
“You have a dictionary, !@#$%hole?” I asked. “I wanna run through it and find out what you won't let me say.”
The ringmaster stared at me for an instant.
“It'll be in your room.” He relented. “Just remember, I reserve the right to add to the banned words list at any time!”
He disappeared in a blink.
“So, what about you?” Ribbit asked, changing the subject. “You're awfully friendly for being dropped into a strange location with strange creatures.” She commented as she slipped at her own drink. “Awfully bold, too.”
“What can I say?” I asked with a chuckle. “I’m awake and alive, and that’s more than some people can say. Those bozos up top wouldn't let me die while I'm hooked up to this crap, there'd be too many lawsuits.”
Can't let them in on the truth yet, that's what drove Kaufmo nuts last time.
“Not that anyone's really gonna come lookin' for me,” I added. “Ran away from home last year, and it's been nothing but trouble since then. Heard Google was paying good money to test some VR sim tech for something called Project Stream. Now I'm just hoping the check clears before I wake up.”
“How much did they pay you?” Ribbit asked.
“Fifteen-hundred, probably less after tax.” I recalled. “Gas money, maybe some rent if I can find a place when I get out of here.”
“More than I make in a week, sheesh.” Ribbit muttered.
“Hey Ragatha, we've got ourselves another optimist.” Kaufmo said with a laugh.
“I'm sure we'll be real good friends.” I commented. “I'll have to get you guys numbers when we get out of here.”
“You really think there's a way out?” Ragatha asked.
“There's gotta be some way out.” I said, swirling my drink in its mug. “You don't make a full-dive VR environment without an exit strategy. Assuming this isn't one of those ‘die in the game, you die in real life’ places.”
“Far as we can tell, no.” Ribbit said. “Caine's sent us on enough adventures where we all snuffed it that we'd have all been gone a long time ago.”
“How long have you guys been here?” I asked, as though I didn't have an idea.
“Well, Kinger was here earliest of all of us.” Ragatha replied hesitantly. “There are doors where the others used to stay, but… Well, he was alone when I got here. That would've been…” she counted her fingers. “Five years ago, and Kinger said something about it being nine years since he showed up, but…” She shrugged. “It's Kinger. He's not the most coherent.”
“What's wrong with him?” I asked. Gotta start leading them to where we need to get… But I can't do it too long before everyone else shows up, or the stuff I know isn't going to be useful.
Yeah, that's the only reason, you selfish prick. I thought as the distant sensation of Pomni's arms wrapped around my body tickled across my fur.
“Easier to say what isn't.” Kaufmo said somberly. “I think he's got a chronic migraine, probably why he stays in the dark so much.”
“You ever tried putting a pair of sunglasses or something on him?” I asked, withdrawing a pair from the pocket of my overalls, and flipping them onto my face.
“If you can find a pair that'll fit those eyes of his, feel free.” Ribbit said.
“You ran away from home?” Kaufmo asked, returning to the earlier topic.
I scoffed.
“Hard to call it a home after dad left. Mom never liked me after that.”
Oh god, you're really jumping headfirst into this.
Well, if everyone knows, I can't just say it's a joke later, can I? I reasoned with myself.
“‘You’re just like your father!’ she'd say. ‘Why can't you be more like your sister?’ ‘Be yourself, but only the you I want.’ Stuff like that.”
I hesitated… And decided to skip the next part.
“So, one day I got in my car and hit the road.” I said as I gripped my mug uncomfortably. “Haven’t looked back.”
“Hit the road, Jax, and doncha come back no more.” Kaufmo sang off-key.
I shook my head at him.
“Alright, obviously Kaufmo's not the funny one in this gang.” I said with a scoff, and Ragatha let out an involuntary giggle in response. “But if you're holding auditions for a comedian, I'll be first in line.”
“Hey, I'm funny sometimes!” Kaufmo protested half-heartedly. “Only sometimes though.”
“Keep that attitude up, Kaufy, and you might make me laugh yet.” I said as I finished my drink. “You got a taste for caffeinated beverages and you're from Utah,” I said, turning to Ribbit, “that tells me ex-Mormon, am I right?”
The frog choked on her drink.
“Yeah,” she sputtered as she reached for a digital napkin, “how'd you know?”
“The only things you can find in Utah are Mormons and deserts.” I replied as I flipped my cup by the handle, and stood up to digitally wash the digital cup.
Side note, does anyone else remember when videogames were fun, and not a second job you had to pay for?
I guess this isn't really a job, and I'm not really paying for it, but drinking coffee and washing dishes wasn't what I was expecting from a place like this.
“Fair enough, I guess.” She replied.
“So, what's the plan now?” I asked. “We need to sleep around here, or do you guys rock and roll all night?”
“We've all got our own rooms,” Ribbit replied as she finished her drink. “Come on, we'll show you around before Caine decides to abduct us for one of his adventures.”
“Yeah, he mentioned I'd have a dictionary in mine.” I replied as we strolled down to the living quarters. “Can't wait to bust out that puppy and see what kind of words our puppet master thinks are too much for television!” I said, rubbing my hands together gleefully.
“Ugh.” Ragatha groaned. “If you do, keep your door shut, the censor sound is !@#$%ing annoying.”
“Noted.” I replied as we passed a door with a crossed out face on it. A strange, chestnut-brown chess piece with eyes like Kinger’s.
His wife.
“What's this about?” I asked, pointing at the crossed-off picture… Like I hadn’t seen what led to it.
Like I hadn’t wound up there myself…
Poor Pomni. Poor Rags, Zooble, Gangle and Kinger, too.
“Did this person get out?” I asked innocently as we continued to walk, passing more doors with crossed-out figures on them.
“...No.” Ragatha replied. “It’s uh… Complicated.”
“An ‘X’ on a door is complicated?” I asked, turning to her with a puzzled expression. “I thought you said people couldn’t die in here?”
“You can’t really… Die.” Kaufmo said somberly. “But if you get loopy, loopier than Kinger, even, you start to lose touch with whatever passes for reality in here. You disconnect, and your body… Changes.”
“Into what, a corpse?” I asked.
“Into a monster.” Ragatha said through gritted plush teeth as she gripped her right arm with her left hand and stared down at the floor. “A creature with lots of eyes and no distinct form. Just an abstract shape. That’s what they’re called. Abstractions.”
She looked back up at us with a primal fear in her buttoned eye as well as her normal one.
“A “shape” like a horse with legs too short for the body?” I asked. “Running around like a feral beast, destroying everything it touches?”
“Yeah, how'd you know?” Ragatha asked.
The images of what I'd seen… Like that, flashed before my eyes.
“It’s a recurring nightmare of mine.” I replied. “Hope I don't have to see it happen… You guys ever see it?” I asked as I glanced around at the crossed-out doors in the hallway. “Looks like there's more marked rooms here than people.”
Ragatha held up four stuffed fingers.
“Four times.” She said softly.
“Twice for me.” Ribbit said.
“Only once, but that’s enough.” Kaufmo said, rounding it off. “Don’t go in the basement, that’s where Caine keeps the people who abstract.”
“Like the barn zombies in The Walking Dead?” I asked. “Tell me abstraction isn’t contagious.”
“Not as far as we know.” Ribbit replied. “They can mess you up for a bit, make you go kinda glitchy, but Caine just snaps his fingers,” she snapped her fingers, “And you’re back to normal.”
We stopped in front of my door, and I put my hand on my smiling visage upon the door.
With Caine gone, I wonder who would’ve crossed my face out.
“So this is me, huh?” I asked. First time around, I thought I looked stupid. Now, seeing my face again, especially the last image they would've had of me, I thought differently. “I’m a handsome-lookin’ guy.” I commented with a glance at the others from over top my sunglasses.
I opened the door before anyone could answer.
It was…
Different to how it’d been before.
It looked like someone had turned up the saturation on my last room and added some things I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t that obnoxiously childish pastel color anymore, it was bolder, darker.
More like her.
I didn't hate it nearly as much as the inoffensive baby room Caine had saddled me with the first time around. The walls and rug were a deep bold red, the carpet was royal blue, the door was still matched to my first, but that didn't bother me.
The kiddie table in the corner was more fit to a normal person's size, the armchair in the corner was leather instead of felt, the clouds and rainbows that had adorned the walls had been replaced with a singular artistic mural of such. The desk still had a green chair next to it, next to a comically undersized bed for someone of my height, but whatever.
I was sure the dresser would have more of the same overalls I was wearing in it, and, aside from a standard dictionary, I had no clue what the bookcase could hold. Not that I was too bothered to investigate, as something I never in a million years would've expected to see in there caught my eye.
“What the hell is this doing here?” I asked as I flung my shades into a corner of the room, glossing over everything else in the space to pick up a bass guitar in the shape of my face. “This is ugly!”
The headstock looked like it was modeled after one of my gloves, and the body had horns sculpted after my ears, with the lower one being bent like I was being cheeky. Lucky guess.
“I don’t even play the bass, I play the piano!” I exclaimed. “What the hell am I gonna do with this?”
“Learn to play?” Kaufmo asked.
“Do I look like Bootsy Collins to you?” I asked sarcastically as I strapped the bass on and flipped it across my shoulders. It slid into my hands perfectly, but I immediately hit two sour, buzzy notes, that, despite the fact that I wasn't connected to an amp, rang out like I was playing in a stadium.
“See?” I asked as I unhooked the instrument and leaned it back against the wall. “All thumbs. So, what's this you guys said about adventures?” I asked, rubbing my hands together gleefully. “We talkin' climbing Everest, Keep on the Borderlands, Tomb of Horrors?” I balled up my fists and punched the air. “Any chance we can fight a dragon?”
“As a matter of fact,” Caine's voice preceded the AI ringmaster's appearance, “no!”
“Well, that’s disappointing.” I replied, crossing my arms. “When I hear ‘adventure’ I think dungeons and dragons, you get me?”
“Then you’re in luck, because you won’t be fighting one dragon, you’ll be facing five!” The ringmaster proclaimed as he and all of us warped to the main room. “KINGER!” Caine screamed with more vocal fry than I thought an AI was capable of producing.
Kinger poked his head out of his fort.
“You don’t have to yell, I can hear everything.” The chess piece replied.
“That’s mildly unsettling!” Caine retorted. “Anyway, you get to live up to your name in today’s adventure! You guys ever play chess?”
“The most popular boardgame on the planet, available in every store in America, including in movie and TV themed tie-ins, constructible Lego sets, and even papercraft versions?” I asked sardonically. “Nah, never heard of it, does the horsey do a jump or something?”
Caine chortled mechanically at me.
“You’re a funny guy, Jaxy, that’s why I’m gonna kill you last!” Caine retorted, pointing his index fingers a little too close to my face. “This is going to be chess meets capture the flag… In a fantasy setting! Your objective will be to brave the enemy cave, capture the dragon king, and lock him in your castle’s dungeon before his team can do that to Kinger! Best two out of three rounds wins the game!”
An involuntarily gleeful expression spread across my rabbity face.
“Oh, this is gonna be some fun!” I exclaimed as I reached into the pocket of my overalls and pulled out a barbute helmet with a pair of holes for my ears cut at the top. I slammed the helm onto my head with a comical CLANGING sound.
Caine glanced at me in computerized puzzlement.
“Where did you get that?” He asked.
“My pocket.” I replied casually. “I got a lot of stuff in there.”
“Alrighty then!” Caine exclaimed, and snapped his fingers, opening a door to a medieval landscape. “Take your time exploring the castle, but not too much time, the dragons are coming!”
“I’m going on an adventure!” I exclaimed in my best Bilbo Baggins impression as I bounded through the door, the others cautiously following behind me.
Changing the way this adventure went was gonna be fun.
The Amazing Digital Do-Over: Chapter 1: If I Could Turn Back Time...
“What would you do if I abstracted tomorrow?”
“I'd move on. And probably forget about you.”
That wasn't true, but then again, a lot of what I say isn't.
The last thing I remembered was her arms around me. Then a bright light. Then, I was back in the circus. Out of my mind, out of the labyrinth of my own hell, back… Not where everything started for me, but far back enough that… Well, that things are different.
Welcome to the Amazing Digital Do-Over. Hope I don't !@#$% it up as badly as last time.
Next Chapter
Hi, I'm Jax.
That's not actually my name, but !@#$% it, I don't know what my real name is, so this'll have to do.
Jax.
Jackrabbit.
Jack’s Rabbit.
Jax the Jackrabbit.
Whatever. A rose by any other name still has thorns, right?
I thought everything was over for me, right up until whatever the hell this is happened.
I !@#$%ing cried, and made a wish as she hugged me.
“I don't want to go.”
I haven't had a lot of second chances in my life. I thought I could do something with the thousand odd bucks they offered me to test out this…
Whatever the hell this place is. I think they called it a “Mental Environment Simulation System.”
The acronym seems appropriate.
Anyway, I woke back up on the day things started for me in this “Amazing Digital Circus,” blinking like an owl and wondering why I was seeing things normally.
Granted, I’ve never abstracted before, and I’ve never come back from it, either, so I’m not sure what the hell this was supposed to be like, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t like this.
You ever drop into a state of sensory overload? Like that scene of Superman seeing and hearing everything all at once, that’s the best way I can describe it, that’s what it was like… Until she jumped in…
Then a white flash, then I was staring at a pair of yellow-gloves hands at the end of a pair of purple arms. When I looked up, I spotted four unusual-looking creatures. Two of whom I hadn't seen in a coherent form in…
Yeah, I don't want to think about that.
But there they were. Kaufmo, Kinger, Ribbit and Ragatha. In the digital flesh, in the digital circus tent.
“Uh, okay.” I said uneasily as I felt across my face. “Am I dreaming or something?”
I still wasn't processing what was happening to me yet.
“Well, that's comforting, thank you.” I replied as my eyes darted around looking for Caine. “If I'm awake, and I'm seeing all of this…”
“Then that means you're in The Amazing Digital Circus!” Caine's obnoxious voice declared as he appeared with a POP and a shimmering sound effect.
Am I really doing all of this again? I wondered. What the hell did I do to deserve this?
Oh, I get it. This is some sort of Groundhog Day thing, where the only escape from the cycle is to learn from my mistakes, isn't it?
“Alright, and what's your deal, you denture-headed Willy Wonkalike?” I asked like I didn't already know what his deal was.
“My deal, my pouncing periwinkle pal?” He asked. “Why, I'm your ringmaster, Caine!”
“I'm Jax the Jackrabbit, nice to meet you.” I retorted, extending a hand.
Whoops. I thought as he raised a toothy brow at me.
“What?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
“Nobody else has remembered their name.” He stated, rubbing his gums with one hand. “Curious.”
“Can't imagine why, Jax has been my name as long as I recall.” I said with a confused shrug, and threw my hands carelessly behind my head.
That wasn't strictly untrue. But I only remembered names as far back as the first time I entered the circus.
“So, you're running the show around here?” I asked, continuing as though nothing unusual had happened. “You here to keep an eye on us, or are you just another test subject?”
“I'm your friendly neighborhood master of ceremonies and adventures!” He declared with a flamboyant flourish as Bubble emerged from his top hat with a bizarre sharp-toothed grin.
“And I'm Bubble!” The creature declared in a voice I've never gotten used to.
I squinted at Bubble and cocked my head.
“Creative name.” I commented, then clapped my hands, and strutted towards the others, as though to introduce myself. “Let's see, if Captain Teeth up there is Caine and his pal is Bubble, that must make you…” I hemmed and hawed as I cast my index fingers lazily across the foursome until I settled on Ragatha, Kaufmo, Ribbit and Kinger in turn.
“Raggedy Anne, Nickelwise, Froggit and Kingpin.” I'd briefly considered using their real names, but they'd already be suspicious enough from my first slip-up about my name.
“Couldn't be more wrong!” Caine declared with too much enthusiasm.
“I'm Ragatha.” Ragatha said with an uncertain wave.
“I'm Kaufmo.” The clown replied with a thumbs up.
“Ribbit.” The green frog replied. “Still pretty obvious, though.”
Kinger stared those lopsided eyes of his into my very soul as I shook the hands of all of them right up to him.
I heard him muttering something tuneful under his breath.
“Bad, bad, bad, bad.” The chess piece sang to himself.
I recoiled enough to be comical to the others as my eyes went wide.
“That's Kinger, he's a little…” Ragatha hesitated.
“Strange?” I asked. He hadn't done that last time.
“Bad, bad, Leeroy Brown.” Kinger said at full volume as he clapped his hands in time to a non-existent beat. “Baddest man in the whole damn town.”
“Oh, he's singing.” I said flatly. It's Kinger, Jax, his brain is more chaotic than I ever could be.
“Let's get you back to your fort, there, buddy.” Kaufmo said as he ushered Kinger back to the pillow and blanket fort.
“So what's his deal?” I asked, pointing a thumb at Kinger like I didn't know.
“He's been here the longest, so he's gone a little loopy.” Ribbit replied.
“In this place?” I asked, looking around like this was the first time I'd seen the circus. “Seems like a nice place, what's there to get loopy about?”
“I'm glad you asked, Jax!” Caine exclaimed as he snaked his arm around my shoulders and yanked me into an uncomfortable side hug as reality warped around us, and we appeared outside of the tent.
“Here we have…” I could practically see the AI channeling his inner Tim Curry with the antici… pation he exuded. “The Tent! This is where your living quarters are, as well as all sorts of other activities! These activities may include…”
Caine's eyes flickered, and an ethereal piano noise sounded as the Blue Screen of Death appeared in the ringmaster's strange floating orbs.
That was just as unsettling as it was the first time I saw it. Probably a little more, now that I'd seen this guy go mad with power.
His eyes switched back to normal, and he continued in the middle of his sentence.
“-ring toss, ball pits, mini-golf, and more!”
“You okay, dude?” I asked, genuinely concerned.
“Never been better!” Caine exclaimed enthusiastically, and snapped his fingers, causing us to reappear in the air above the island.
“And here, we have…” I wonder what he was trained on that he wound up like this. “The Grounds! Drown yourself in the Digital Lake,”
“Why would I do that?” I asked incredulously.
Caine continued without acknowledging my commentary.
“or engage in ridery at the Digital Carnival! Night, day, it's all okay! The choice is yours! A cosmic buffet!”
“Alright, let's go there now!” I exclaimed with a fake smile.
“No can do, Jaxie boy!” Caine declared as we warped yet again. “There's still more!”
We appeared in The Void, a purple, ethereal realm beyond the island.
“Yeah, that's a lot of ‘more,’ out here.” I commented sarcastically as I glanced around. “Is this ‘the void?’ or do you have a ‘more’ unique name for it?”
“Nope, it's called ‘The Void!’” Caine replied.
I raised an eyebrow at him.
“Isn't that what I just said?”
“You didn't capitalize the first letters of the words!”
“How would you know?” I asked irritably. “We're speaking out loud!”
“The ringmaster has his ways!” Caine declared. “Try not to wander around out here, even I don't know everything about what’s out in The Void!”
Suddenly, we were back in the tent, and I was spinning a little, but not as much as I had the first time through.
“Are we gonna have to redo the theme song now?” Kaufmo asked.
“Theme song?” I asked. “Like a TV show? Cha-la, head cha-la?”
The others gave me blank stares.
Good, nobody recognizes the weebery.
“Exactly like a TV show, Jax!” Caine exclaimed.
“Does he just announce everything like he's introducing the world heavyweight championship?” I asked Ribbit with a questioning gesture at the AI.
“You'll get used to it eventually.” She replied with a shrug.
“How long is ‘eventually?’ I asked.
I genuinely didn't know the answer to this one. Time passed so strangely in the circus that while I was sure I'd been there for years, I wasn't entirely sure how long. Time runs strangely when you're in a computer, and even though I'd grown a little numb to Caine's shenanigans, he's not the kinda guy you ever really get used to.
“So yeah, what's that about, like a show?” I asked. “Breaking Bad, The Twilight Zone, The Office? If this is a show, where are the cameras?”
“You don't have to worry about that, my bunnyful buddy!” Caine bellowed. I should find a thesaurus if I'm gonna have to find a new adjective for his particular brand of semi-scream speaking every time I have to describe it.
“I have eyes everywhere.” The ringmaster concluded as his bugged out at me.
“Comforting.” I replied sardonically. “So really, what kinda show is this? Has to be a comedy, right? Some kinda kids’ cartoon? Not sure I signed up for this, think I’m gonna have to talk to my agent, cus I gotta make sure I’m getting residuals from this.”
“Oh ho ho ho, Jax, if that is your real name,” Caine said the last six words with a suspicious glare he shot my way, “I’m not getting paid, why would you?”
“Wishful thinking.” I replied, placing my hands on my hips.
“So were you a rabbit in real life, too?” Kaufmo asked.
Uh.
Damnit.
“Probably not,” Caine commented loudly. “If a rabbit did enter the circus, their body would be less… Anthropomorphic, most likely. Though how a rabbit could get that headset on…”
“I’m a furry.” I interjected hastily. “This is my fursona.”
Genius, now they think you’re a weirdo.
“Hm.” Caine said as he floated around me, examining me in altogether too much detail. “Well, you are quite furry. And who am I to judge you,” he asked as he floated up to my eye level to stare at me altogether too closely, “other than the closest thing there is to a god in these parts.”
I smacked my lips at him.
“Gotcha, your holiness.” I replied uncomfortably. “Say, would you happen know today's date, Caine Almighty?”
Caine froze, and raised a toothy brow as he darted backwards, doffing his top hat and pulling a calendar out of it.
“Gooooooood question!” He bellowed as he flipped through the pages.
“It's September eleventh, twenty-thirteen.” Bubble interjected through a mouthful of digital clock the little creature hoisted up from a corner.
“Egads!” Caine ejaculated (shut up) as he smacked his hands on either side of his face, dropping the calendar comically. “The anniversary of a national tragedy!”
Four years I spent in this place, and I'm going to be spending another four years in it, maybe more. I thought to myself. Well, my mission, whether I choose to accept it or not, is probably to keep Ribbit and Kaufmo from Abstracting. Which means I probably need to be a better friend to them… Knowing what I know, if I can keep four years of this bullshit straight, I'll do my best.
“You guys got a place I could grab some coffee around here?” I asked as I strolled in the direction of the coffee shop. “I could use some Amazing Digital Caffeine.”
I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I strolled away.
“Let me guess,” Ribbit began as I examined my reflection, “stupider than you thought you'd look?”
“No.” I said as I snapped my suspenders with my thumbs. “I'm looking pretty good, if I do say so myself.” I turned to look at the others. “Kinda thought I might wind up as some kinda,” I wiggled my fingers and made a goofy expression, “weird horse creature with a bunch of eyes all over me.”
Caine stared at me, narrow-mouthed.
“That's an… Odd thing to say.” He concluded.
“This is an odd place.” I retorted. “So, with a name like Kaufmo, you gotta know where I can get a good cup o’ Joe, right?”
“Oh, yeah!” He replied. “Ribbit and I go to the café at least once a week. Stuff there's so good, you can't even tell it's not real.”
“‘I can't believe it's not coffee,’ huh?” I asked as Kaufmo led the way
“I like the hot chocolate myself.” Ribbit said as she fell into step with me.
“Maybe I could put ‘em together, see what happens.” I suggested. “So, you like clowns, Kaufmo?”
“Not really.” He admitted. “I don't mind being one, but they kinda freak me out, especially girl clowns.”
“Well, you'll be thrilled in a couple years.” I muttered under my breath.
“What?” Kaufmo asked.
“Nothing.”
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
So in this instance, a literal plot bunny by the name of Jax jumped into my head and decided I needed to get to writing something.
So, here we are.
I'm quite fond of the Peggy Sue story as a fanfiction format, as anyone I've talked to about Harry Potter can tell you. Oh God, Not Again! is one of my favorite stories, and I love Groundhog Day, and other such time-loop stories, like Window of Opportunity from Stargate SG-1, Cause and Effect from Star Trek TNG, Source Code, Edge of Tomorrow, Mystery Spot from Supernatural, The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask, and, of course, Undertale.
What with Jax being my favorite character in The Amazing Digital Circus, I feel like this was well due as an exercise for myself and a means of using some of the jokes that have been living rent-free in my head since the series finale.
Also so I could promote the FunnyBunny agenda, but that's not important right now.
'Til Undeath Do Us Part Chapter 6: The Paths We Take
Leon and Sherry pulled up to the gate of the DSO campus, and Ned Anderson glanced up from his book to see Birkin pulling on her motorcycle with Kennedy's SUV behind her.
“Back again, Birkin?” Ned asked.
“Yup.” She replied as she eased to a stop near the gate.
“Who's that with you?”
“Agent Kennedy,” Sherry replied, hesitating only slightly before finishing the thought that flicked across her mind, “my boyfriend.”
“Alright.” Ned said as he pushed the gate button.
I forgot that Ned only cares about two things. Sherry thought as she and Leon rolled up to her dorm. Whatever he's reading, and whether you're supposed to be here or not. …I suppose it's a good thing he didn't comment on what I said, I would've had to correct myself.
They parked their vehicles, and Leon could barely hide his astonishment at the meager accommodations.
“It's, uh…” Leon hesitated as he chose his words.
“Cozy?” Sherry asked.
“I was going to say ‘spartan,’ but I guess that works, too.” Leon commented as they entered. “I didn't realize these places were so…” Leon reached up and touched the ceiling. “Enclosed.”
“I've never really minded it.” Sherry admitted. “Less square footage means less places to jump at shadows when I get a little paranoid.”
“You're optimistic to a fault, Sherry.” Leon replied wryly. “Sorry if I'm coming off like a wet blanket.”
“Leon, you're just being honest,” Sherry said, clasping both of his hands in her own, “and I wouldn't want you to be anything else. Besides, you're used to living in that big, open house with all that space.”
Leon scoffed.
“I wasn't always in a place like that. I don't know, I really don't have too many good feelings about cramped spaces” He said softly, squeezing her hands gently. “After mom and dad died, I lived in a tiny room in a Jersey foster home with two other kids. Tiny college dorm at A&M, tiny apartments and hotels after that. Never had a lot of space for myself.”
A smile grew across Sherry's lips.
“And you decided to invite me to share it with you anyway?”
A smile grew on Leon's face to match Sherry's.
“You got your foot in the door.” Leon whispered as he pulled her close. “Not that I minded letting you in. Space is nice to have, but it's better to share it with someone special than to have it all to your lonesome.”
Sherry felt her pulse quicken to a sprinting pace as they pressed themselves closely together, and even though they'd shared a bed, met each other's gaze and hugged and kissed each other countless times that day already, that didn't dampen the intensity of the cartwheels her heart performed as his arms looped around her back, lifting her up onto her tiptoes as she looped her arms around his shoulders, making their lips meet in the middle.
Sherry felt her cheeks grow hot and red as their lips parted ways once more.
“So uh…” Leon said softly, his breath tickling her burning cheeks as he spoke. “You keep her in there?”
Sherry had to gather her thoughts before she realized that Leon had indicated her gun safe in the corner, and that he was continuing their earlier conversation about Mathilda.
“Yeah.” She said hastily. “Uh, hang on.”
Sherry walked over to the safe, and almost tried to cover the keypad, then realized what she was doing, and giggled.
“You know, you could probably guess the code.” She said as she linked her hands behind her back.
Leon raised an eyebrow.
“Alright,” he said, linking his fingers and cracking his knuckles, “let's see…”
Leon thought for a moment, then typed in 07, 12, 86. The safe beeped angrily at him, and refused to open.
“My birthday?” Sherry asked. “Too obvious.”
“Alright, let's try mine then.” Leon said as he typed 07, 31, 77. It beeped angrily again.
“Nope.” Sherry said as she started to swing her arms back and forth behind her. “One more guess!”
Leon thought for a moment… Sherry wondered if he'd get the number on the next try, and what he would think about if he got to that conclusion.
Finally, he typed in 09, 26, 98, and the safe beeped happily.
“Outbreak day?” Leon asked as he opened the door.
“I like to think about it as the day we met.” Sherry replied with a bittersweet smile.
Leon shook his head as he retrieved Matilda's box from the bottom of the safe.
“You might be the only person in the world who has good memories about that date.” He said as he set the box atop the gun safe, and began reassembling Matilda.
“If I didn't focus on the good memories, I'd only have the bad ones.” Sherry said as she watched Leon's expert reassembly with intent.
“There she goes!” Leon said triumphantly as he finished putting the firearm back together, complete with the shoulder stock. “Good as new!”
“Better than new.” Sherry commented. “She didn't come with the stock standard, did she?”
“No…” Leon said as he turned the old pistol over in his hands. “I scavenged most of the parts from the station. I kept hoping someone would come asking for their stuff back but…” He shook his head as the memories of the dead of Raccoon City passed through his mind. “Nobody ever did.”
“I had some friends at school back then.” Sherry said somberly. “Not many, but they were my friends, close ones or not… On that day, I loaned an eraser to this girl who sat across from me, her name was Sarah. She used to lend me pencils when I broke mine, so we were always even eventually. When they sent us home early, we were in such a rush we forgot to get square at the end of the day.” Sherry let out a quick laugh, smiling as she recalled the events, and knelt, pulling the covers back to dig underneath her bed. “Once she found out I was alive, she called me up and tried to give it back to me. I told her to keep it.”
Sherry retrieved a battered old pencil case from atop a padded zipper case with a spoked wheel on the end, and withdrew a couple of pencils with the initials S.M. carved into them.
“I think she was the only classmate I had who survived the outbreak.” Sherry continued mournfully as tears started to well up in her eyes. “She and her dad only made it out alive because the S.T.A.R.S crew stuck around.”
“We can't always save everyone…” Leon said softly, placing a hand on Sherry's shoulder. “But it's important to help the people we can, to remember who we've lost, and keep living the lives we've got.”
Sherry sniffed, and chuckled as she replaced the pencils in the old case.
“Do I have to remember everyone I've lost?” She asked, kneeling to replace the box.
“Not every memory we have is going to be a good one.” Leon said as his hands brushed across the scar on his chest subconsciously. “But even the bad ones make us who we are. If we didn't remember the bad things, we'd never be able to learn from the experience. Good times can lead to bad, bad times to good, and all of that makes,” He gestured around them, “this big mess we call ‘our lives.’”
“Do you ever wonder about life?” Sherry asked. “About how different it could be, if something changed for the better?”
“What do you mean?”
“Hypothetically,” Sherry said as she sat on the floor next to her bed, “if you could go back in time, stop your parents from being killed, you would, right?”
“I might.” Leon said, taking a seat next to her. “But that might just kill who I am now, and that'd cause a lot of people a lot of harm. If I could guarantee a good outcome, sure… But you never know what path life will take you on until you're walking down it, and you still don't know where each step leads until you take the last one.” He looped an arm around Sherry's shoulder, and hugged her gently. “The path I took led me here. So, despite it all, I think I'm doing alright.”
Leon pulled Sherry even closer to whisper in her ear.
“And I'm not just saying that because you're my girlfriend, either.”
Sherry scoffed, and pressed her cheek against Leon's with a joyful smirk.
“I'm not your girlfriend.” She replied playfully.
“Right, we kinda skipped past that, didn't we?”
“I think that stage lasted all of a couple of hours.” She murmured into his ear. “I made the same mistake earlier, telling Ned who you were.”
“You could tell Ned the sky was purple and you were in love with Bugs Bunny and he wouldn't care unless you weren't supposed to be here.” Leon said with a chuckle. “What made you want to ask about time travel?”
Sherry sighed, and leaned her head back against the edge of her bed.
“You were talking about how you were so happy last night you thought you were dreaming, and when I got back here, I got all nervous and giddy, and wondered what I'd do if I woke up and all of this,” Sherry gestured between her and Leon, “was just wishful thinking.”
“I think what you did worked out fine.” Leon reassured her with a friendly squeeze of the shoulder. “Honestly, if you did that at just about any point in my life, I think it would've worked.”
“Even if you were sober?”
Leon laughed heartily, shaking Sherry and the bed with his guffaws.
“I wasn't that drunk,” he replied, “I just don't remember what was real and what was a dream.”
“What would've been different if you'd been sober?” Sherry inquired.
“I probably would've been more careful.” He replied warmly. “Asked a few more questions, gave a few more answers…” Leon brushed his fingers across Sherry's face, guiding her gaze to meet his own. “Savored every last moment with you, and every last expression on your face.”
“Hug me, kiss me?”
“Obviously.”
“Tell me you love me?” She asked with a lopsided lovestruck smile.
“Of course I would.” Leon replied. “You're not tired of hearing that, are you?”
Sherry blew a dismissive raspberry.
“Of course not.” She said disdainfully. “What about you?”
“Say it again a few thousand times, then ask me again.” He said with a wry grin as he glanced down at the spoked logo on the case behind them. “What's this?”
“Oh!” Sherry said as she moved out of the way to pull the case out between them. “That's my keyboard. I was taking piano lessons from Jill before uh… Everything happened. I don't have a lot of space to keep it set up, so I just tuck it under my bed when I'm not using it.”
“Nice.” Leon said as he unzipped the Yamaha keyboard. “We should learn to play a song together.”
“We should…” Sherry said as she opened the piano case, revealing an electronic piano with notes marked off on each key.
“You've got the notes written down on the keys.” Leon pointed out as Sherry removed the keyboard from its case and placed it on her bed.
“...Yeah,” she said sheepishly, “I'm not that great with it.”
“You’re learning, that's the important thing.” Leon said as he stood up and looked around the room, failing to find anywhere the keyboard could be adequately placed. “You set it up on your bed, huh?”
“Yeah, it's got a stand with it, but I really don't have space to leave it up, so I just put it down here when I want to play.”
“That can't be very comfortable.” Leon said, kneeling down next to Sherry as she switched the keyboard on and played the intro to Piano Man at half speed.
“I try to make do.” Sherry replied as she continued tapping out the song, glancing down at the keys and pausing briefly between phrases.
“You know…” Leon pondered. “It'd be a lot easier to practice if you had somewhere you could leave it all set up.”
“Mmm.” Sherry responded as she switched from Piano Man to Bohemian Rhapsody.
“Sherry,” Leon said as he gently brushed his fingers across Sherry's jawline, tickling her soft skin with his roughened hand, guiding her eyes away from the piano and back to him, “why don't you move in with me?”
Sherry's eyes grew wide, and her hands slipped, striking a sour chord on the keys as her head whirled.
“Really?” She asked meekly. “You’d really do that?”
“Of course I would.”
“What’ll be left for after the wedding?”
“Whatever we want.” Leon responded. “I don't want to spend another moment without you if I can help it.”
“I guess going all the way was just the start, huh?”
“You know it.” Leon said, taking Sherry's hand and pulling her to her feet, brushing one of the preset buttons on the keyboard as they stood. “Come on. If we start now, I think we can get everything loaded up in one trip.”
“Do we have to?” Sherry asked as she took Leon's other hand, and a soft, romantic backing track began to play from the keyboard’s speakers. “I mean, if it's alright with you, we could make it two trips. Get most of it tonight, but leave the kitchen and the TV for tomorrow morning… I've never had a guy spend the night at my place before, it'd be a shame to let that opportunity go to waste. I could make us some dinner, you could pick us out a movie, and then… We see where the night takes us.” Sherry's alluring smile told Leon that she knew exactly where the night was going to take them.
“Dinner’s a ways away.” Leon pointed out. “When we're done, we can hit the home gym, and grab lunch afterward?”
“I know a place that does a garlic chicken panini with fresh basil and tomatoes.” She suggested as she laced her fingers with Leon's, and swayed back and forth together as though they were dancing, despite remaining mostly still. “It's delicious.”
“Sounds like a date.” Leon replied.
“How many would that make?”
“Do we count the wedding?”
Sherry shrugged.
“Sure.”
“Wedding, the bar, the range and lunch, that's four.”
“Raccoon City would've been a hell of a first date.” Sherry said with a flippant smirk.
Leon groaned, and laughed uncomfortably.
“You were twelve.” He muttered. “I don't want people thinking this is that kind of relationship.”
Sherry burst out giggling, and pulled Leon in for a hug.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” Sherry exclaimed into his chest. “Hey, I’m not twelve anymore.”
“You’d better not be.” Leon replied with a dry laugh. “That's awfully young to be a secret agent.”
“Hypothetically…” Sherry asked as they swayed in place to the music. “If I had to do all this again…”
“No sooner than July thirteenth, two-thousand four, okay?” Leon said pleadingly. “Even that's a little early.”
“That'd be the day after my eighteenth birthday.” Sherry replied. “About two and a half weeks before your twenty-seventh.”
“You've really been holding out for me for a long time, haven't you?”
Sherry nodded.
“I used to dream about spending time with you, dancing with you, maybe one day… Holding your hand and saying ‘I do.’” She muttered into his chest. “I hope that's not too creepy.”
“It’s sweet.” Leon said reassuringly.
“Laying it out like this makes me feel like your stalker.” Sherry lamented.
“Such a good stalker, you invited me into your home. I should really be more careful who I rescue in a zombie apocalypse.” Leon said, shaking his head. “She might want to make me the happiest man in the world some day.”
“That's you, alright.” Sherry said with a happy little smile. “Finding ways to make me feel like everything's going to be fine when I'm worrying.”
“I wouldn't make for a very good husband if I couldn't, would I?” Leon asked. “And if you're worrying about if you're on the right track, you're asking the right questions.”
“I don't think I've ever felt more safe or more nervous than I have today.” Sherry admitted. “Mortal peril is one thing, but the last thing I ever wanted was to disappoint you.”
“I'm not sure you could.”
“And I won't try to.” Sherry declared. “And I'll drop the hypotheticals, I can tell they make you uncomfortable.”
“Thanks.” Leon said appreciatively. “Not that I mind discussing our past, I just don't want anyone getting the wrong idea about us.”
“Perfectly understandable.” Sherry said as she leaned away from Leon, extending both of their arms. “At the end of the day, I made my own decisions, you made yours, and now here we are. Whatever happens is between us, to hell with what anyone else says. Besides, you're only, what, nine years older than me? Not exactly a May/December romance.”
“True,” Leon admitted, twirling Sherry away from him and then back into his arms. “I've just got enough people saying weird things about me, I don't want to add anything else in.”
“Like who?” Sherry asked as they swayed in time to the music. “Like what?”
“Crenshaw thought I was gay.” Leon recounted. “Even asked who the lucky guy was when I told him I wanted to take time off to get married.”
Sherry tried and failed to suppress her laughter.
“Why the hell would he think that?” She asked, bewildered.
Leon shook his head.
“I don't know, apparently someone on the internet said it.”
“Probably after it came out you weren't actually dating Ashley Graham.”
“Oh yeah, Mick thought you were gay, too.”
“Is that what you were talking about when I was outside?”
“Somewhat against my will.” Leon admitted. “Said you wouldn't stop staring at her on the news during that date you two had, but, knowing what I know about you, you had your eye on the guy in the picture near her, didn't you?”
Sherry nodded bashfully.
“He wouldn't have noticed, he never looked up from his puzzle book the whole time.” She recalled.
“What made you desperate enough to go on a date with him?” Leon asked.
“That rumor about you and Ashley.” Sherry admitted. “He wasn't the only one I went out with. I met some nice people, but nobody I really connected with. I almost gave up on finding anyone I had a… Spark with, until I got the invite to Chris and Jill's wedding. Then… Well, I just couldn't help myself.”
“We should thank Kathy for the seating arrangement.” Leon said with a grin.
“Yeah…” Sherry said wistfully. “Well, I guess we ought to start packing, huh?”
“I guess.” Leon said reluctantly.
Sherry switched off her keyboard, and packed it back up.
“What aren't we taking?” Leon asked. “Aside from the kitchen stuff and the television?”
“Bed came with the house,” Sherry said as she popped open the access panel at the bottom of her gun safe, and unbolted it from the floor. “I'd leave it even if it didn't though. Dresser did, too. Probably ought to leave ourselves the towels, soap and washcloths, and at least a change of clothes for me.”
“I'll grab myself a change of clothes when we leave my place.” Leon agreed. “How much does that thing weigh?”
“About four-hundred pounds, I think?” Sherry speculated.
“We'll save that for tomorrow, too.” Leon said. “I'll grab my dolly and rent a U-Haul for it, I don't think my trunk could handle the weight.”
“Let me pay for the rental?” Sherry pleaded. “I know we agreed to split stuff, but I wouldn't feel right letting you foot the bill on this big old thing.”
“Alright, alright.” Leon chuckled as Sherry shut the door of the safe. “Just this once.”
“Thank you.” Sherry said with relief. “I really don't want to be a gold digger.”
“It’ll be fifty bucks at most, Sherry, that's a gram.” Leon replied with a laugh.
“I know…” She replied. “I just don't want to… Take advantage of your good nature.”
“A lot of people would be worried about me taking advantage of your good nature.” Leon said as he peered under the bed near where the keyboard had come from, scanning for anything important that might be forgotten.
“I don't think you could.” Sherry replied with a giggle as she retrieved a clothes hamper from the bathroom. “You almost made yourself sleep on the couch last night.”
Leon laughed as he retrieved a beat up laptop case from under Sherry's bed.
“So that part was real…” Leon said sardonically. “I’d say I couldn't believe it, but that sure as hell sounds like me. This is yours, right?”
“Yeah, uh…” Sherry said as she pulled herself to her feet. “That's my computer.”
“You think we need any boxes?” Leon asked as he slung the laptop and keyboard cases on his shoulder.
“Probably not, at least not tonight.” Sherry admitted as she glanced around, taking inventory. “Your car’s pretty roomy, I think we can get my clothes in a hamper in the backseat, and my books can probably go on top of them.”
“Awesome.” Leon declared as he opened the front door.
Sherry emptied her clothes, save an extra shirt, pants, pair of socks, bra, and panties into the clothes hamper carefully as Leon loaded the electronics into his car. Once she was finished piling her books on top of her clothes, she placed the hamper on the bed, and walked to the kitchen, where she began to consider what to make for dinner.
“How does Shichimi chicken and broccoli with basmati rice and a Crème Fraîche sauce sound?” Sherry asked as Leon reentered.
“Spicy Japanese chicken in a French cream sauce?” He asked as he walked up to her and hugged her tightly. “You have been hanging around with Jill. But I dunno, it sounds a little rich, like we might have to work extra hard to burn it off.” He said with a suggestive smile.
“Hey, if we go like we did last night, we might burn even more than I could make.” Sherry replied seductively. “We should work out extra hard before our lunch date…”
“Eager to work up an appetite?”
“Depends on what it’s for.”
“You wanna take your bike?” Leon asked.
“No,” Sherry said with a shake of her head. “I want to ride with you. We’re coming back anyway, shame to waste the gas.”
“Alright, is this everything we’re taking today?” Leon asked, indicating the hamper.
“We can take everything we won’t need.” Sherry replied. “Take a look at what I’ve got, pick something, we’ll leave it, take the rest.”
“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.” He said, reluctantly letting her go to kneel by the half-empty bookshelf. He passed over every film, DVD or Blu-ray at least once.
“I don't have City of Angels if that's what you're looking for.” Sherry interjected playfully.
“I wasn't, but if you want to watch it sometime, I've got the DVD.” Leon replied as he drummed along the top of the cases with his fingers. “Too many good choices. What's your favorite?” He asked, turning to Sherry.
She knelt next to him, and her hand immediately found Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.
“Here we go!” She exclaimed, handing him the Blu-ray case. “They're all my favorites, but I think this one's my most favorite.”
“Can't find any flaws in that line of thinking.” Leon said as he took the case and set it beside the television. “Everything else goes in the basket then?”
“Yup.” Sherry said as she began to carefully load the movies into the hamper with everything else she owned.
“You have any important documents you need?”
“Yeah, they’re all in there.” Sherry indicated the gunsafe. “It’s fireproof, so I figured I’d save some space.” She sighed, and glanced between the safe and the clothes hamper. “Seems weird to pack almost my entire life into a plastic clothes basket.” She lamented as she retrieved her old pencil case and deposited it at the top of the collection of her belongings.
“I've done it a few times…” Leon said as Sherry picked up the hamper. “Cardboard boxes, backpacks and briefcases… Sheesh, half my life I think I’ve spent packing everything I own into a goddamn box.”
“Is that why you have everything spread out on the ground floor?” Sherry asked.
“I guess.” Leon said with a shrug as he opened the door for her, and they exited the tiny abode. “Never really considered it. I just wanted somewhere I could work without bumping into myself.”
Sherry tried to push her intrusive thoughts aside as she loaded the basket into the backseat of Leon's car, next to her keyboard and computer… But the fact that she had so little and he seemed to have so much… It weighed on her as she locked her front door and boarded the front passenger seat.
“Do you think we ought to get a pre-nup?” She blurted out as Leon started up the vehicle.
He glanced at her blankly as the gears turned in his head, trying to understand why she'd ask that question.
“I hadn't thought about it.” He admitted. “Why, do you have a bunch of debt I need to worry about?”
Sherry shook her head.
“No. Why, do you?”
“No.”
Sherry felt herself shocked back into her seat, and she absentmindedly buckled her seatbelt as Leon pulled out.
“Not even a mortgage on that big new house?” She asked, baffled.
“No, President Graham paid for the whole thing after Spain.” Leon said as they drove back to the gate.
Sherry let out a whistle.
“Look, I trust you, Sherry.” Leon said, patting her on the knee reassuringly as the gate slid open. “I don't want to put a bunch of paperwork in the way of that. And… If worse comes to worse, I don't want you to have any legal obstacles between you and a good life if-”
“Don't say that, don't even think that.” Sherry snapped as she clutched at Leon's wrist possessively. “You’re sticking around until both of us are old and withered, got it? Then you're sticking around a little longer so we can see our great grandchildren get married.”
Leon chuckled, and twisted his hand to clutch back at Sherry's.
“Alright, alright.” He said as he leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head, then returned his full attention to the road as they pulled away.
A niggling feeling still burned in the back of Sherry's mind though, unable to be quenched by Leon's reassurance.
He could just be saying whatever he thinks I want to hear because he's lonely. She thought nervously. No, no, he's too straightforward for that. He thought had to apologize for what he said about my house, didn't he? God, Sherry, calm the hell down, he's a grown man.
“Thanks for asking me to move in, by the way.” Sherry blurted out.
Leon glanced over at her, while keeping his eyes on the road.
“Yeah, don't mention it.” He replied casually. “It's gotta happen eventually, might as well do it sooner than later. Did I ever thank you for the Gatorade last night?”
“You don’t have to, but you’re welcome anyway.” Sherry said with a giggle.
“No, seriously, I’ve never had that much to drink and not at least had a headache the next day.”
“Well, I’m glad I could help.” Sherry replied. “Just as long as you don’t take it as a license to booze.”
Leon smirked, and shook his head.
“I wasn’t planning to. How’d you know about that trick, anyway?”
“Uh, YouTube.” Sherry replied. “A bartender made a video about how to not get a hangover, one of the things he said was drink a lot of electrolytes and water. I uh… I didn't want you to… Have any regrets about our time together in the morning.”
A smile worked its’ way across Leon’s face.
“Now why would I regret a thing like that?” He wondered aloud.
“Just trying to be prepared I guess.” Sherry said.
“Listen, I appreciate the thought, and I definitely appreciate not being hung over.” Leon replied. “You have to deal with a lot of them?”
Sherry shook her head.
“No.” She declared. “Not often, anyway. First and only one I ever had was the day after my twenty-first birthday.”
“That would've been 07, 12, 07.” Leon stated. “That was right around the time of the Harvardville incident, wasn't it?”
“Yup!” Sherry said, perhaps a little too loudly. “I invited Claire up to DC for it, but she got hung up at the airport, never made her flight because of it. I took a cab from Maryland, and the two of us were going to have sort of a reverse surprise party with you… But both of you got caught up in all of that. So, I had a hotel room, a week's vacation and three of the strongest bottles of vodka I could find, and nobody to share it with. So, I drank all three of them, and passed out watching Futurama.”
“You didn't have anyone in Maryland you wanted to have a party with?”
Sherry shook her head.
“Not really. I just hoped that you and I could maybe get together, catch up with Claire at a restaurant, come back to my hotel, share a few drinks, and… See what happened next. But I wound up overloading myself, and woke up feeling like I was going to die. Looked up ‘hangover cures’ on YouTube, and spent the rest of the drive back to Maryland wishing I'd known all that the previous night.” Sherry scoffed. “I felt so fucking guilty after that. A big old outbreak, and my first thought was how it ruined my birthday plans.”
“The fact that you said it was your ‘first thought’ tells me that you had a few others.” Leon retorted.
“Well, yeah.” Sherry muttered. “I was worried about you and Claire. Then when I saw the death toll, I felt even worse about it.”
“You're not a bad person for caring about how something affects you before you think about everything else.” Leon said as they pulled up to his house. “That's just a normal reaction. ‘Oh no, this ruined my plans, I hope my friends are okay, oh no, a lot of people's lives are in shambles.’ It's a natural thought process, and as long as you keep going down that path, and you have, you're fine.”
Sherry just sat in silence for a moment, staring forward at her new home.
“And feeling a little guilty about the order you had your feelings in is fine,” Leon said, poking her in the shoulder with a finger, “but you gotta get over it eventually, or I might get worried about you.”
“Yeah…” She said finally. “It's just a lot, you know? First day of the rest of my life with you.” She said as she reached over and gripped Leon's hand on the steering wheel. “It's everything I've ever wanted, and I wouldn't take back a thing that's happened, but damn…” A tiny smile flashed across her lips. “It's a big old change, huh?”
“Tell me about it.” Leon replied wistfully. “I put down the specs and the floorplan, saw every step of the construction, and it still felt weird moving in. It seemed… Big. Permanent, even.”
“How long have you had the place?” Sherry asked.
“Uh, started construction in ‘05, finished about six months later, so it's coming up on eight years.” Leon recalled.
Sherry whistled.
“Still looks brand new.”
“It should, I pay enough for the upkeep.” Leon replied wryly.
“How much?”
“Something like three, four hundred a month?” Leon speculated. “Cheaper than paying rent, and I'm not always here to do it myself, so I guess it balances out.”
“That’alf the cost of my rent.” Sherry commented as they exited the vehicle and Leon unlocked the front door.
“They made you pay to live there?” Leon asked incredulously as Sherry slung her laptop over her shoulder and hauled her hamper full of belongings and clothing out of his backseat. “What the hell are my taxes paying for if the prettiest girl in the agency is paying to live somewhere like that?”
“Stop it!” Sherry exclaimed with an embarrassed blush as they passed each other near the doorway.
Leon retrieved the keyboard from his car as Sherry set her things on the stairs.
“You want this over there,” he asked, indicating his guitar on its stand in the corner, “or upstairs?”
“Over there's fine.” Sherry replied. “Here, I'll get the stand set up.”
Leon set the case on the floor next to his guitar, and Sherry flipped the case over, unzipped it upside-down, then unfolded the legs, rocked it over onto its’ feet, and clapped her hands triumphantly.
“Voila!” She exclaimed. “It hasn't been set up like that since I bought it.”
“How many times did you play it a week?”
“Once or twice, sometimes more if I had the energy to unpack and pack it back up.”
“I'll try to get down here and play with you at least that often.” Leon promised as he switched the keyboard on and tapped out the opening chords of Jump by Van Halen.
“Not bad.” Sherry commented.
“Thanks.” Leon replied. “I guess we should make a spot for your stuff upstairs, huh?”
“Yeah… Look, are you sure you want me to put everything up there with yours?” She asked. “I can manage living out of the basket for a few days.”
“Why would I let you live like a visitor in your own home?” Leon asked smoothly.
Sherry couldn't help but smile, and throw herself into Leon's arms.
“And how, exactly, did you manage to make it this far without getting serious with anyone?” Sherry wondered aloud. “With lines that smooth, you should be the spokesman for Skippy Peanut Butter.”
“Only problem.” Leon said wryly as he looped his arms around her. “I'm a Jif guy.”
“Better hope you're a good actor.”
“I’m not,” Leon replied, ‘I'm just quick-witted.”
They hauled Sherry's things upstairs, and found places for her books and movies in the entertainment center below the television. They used some spare hangers to hang her shirts and skirts in the closet, and placed her pants and athletic wear in a series of empty drawers at the bottom of the closet.
“So I told you my worst hangover story.” Sherry said as she clipped her last skirt into place. “What about you?”
Leon rubbed his chin as he considered the subject.
“I've got two, for different reasons.” He said finally. “Like you, day after my twenty-first was pretty bad, I think it might even take the cake for the worst headache I've ever had.”
“What happened?”
Leon shrugged.
“Dove in headfirst like you did, shots of Jack Daniel's with the guys all night long.”
“You ever have anything to drink before that?” Sherry asked curiously as she planted herself on the couch.
“Nope.” He said with a shake of his head as he sat across from her on the bed. “You?”
Sherry turned up her nose at Leon.
“I'm insulted you'd ask that!” She exclaimed in faux outrage. “What kind of prude do you think I am?”
Leon raised an eyebrow at his fiance as a grin grew across his face.
“The answer’s ‘no,’ isn't it?” He asked facetiously.
Sherry giggled as she allowed her gaze to drop in mock sorrow.
“Yeah, the answer's no…” She replied. “Didn’t have any opportunities for underage drinking, nor really any desire. After the disaster of my twenty-first, I just fix myself a gin and tonic every Friday night before bed. Not enough to get me drunk, not enough to get a hangover. Most drinking I've done in six years was those shots last night. So, what was the other time?”
Leon hesitated.
“What?” Sherry asked.
“I don't want to tarnish your fantasies about me too badly.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You could never.” Sherry exclaimed as she sprang to her feet and plopped herself onto the bed next to Leon. “Come on, babe, spit it out. Or I might have to tickle you!”
“Okay, okay!” Leon replied with a smile as Sherry made her fingers dance along his neck. “It wasn't so much the raw hangover as much as it was everything else that happened that day. September twenty-eighth, ninety-right.”
Sherry's eyes grew wide.
“No!” She exclaimed. “You were hung over on outbreak day? How? Why?”
“It's a complicated story.”
“We've got time, and I'm all ears.”
Leon shook his head.
“I guess you told me about your dating history, fair is fair.” Leon said with a bashful shrug.
“Ohhhh, it was a girl.” Sherry said teasingly. “Sorry.” She continues, composing herself. “Go ahead.”
“I picked A&M because it had what I wanted for a double major, mechanical engineering and criminal justice. In the criminal justice classes, I met a girl named Jessica Carter, cheerleader, future lawyer, and we started going out.” Leon shook his head as he reminisced. “She said I was going to be the most overqualified cop in the state, but if I wanted to do it, she'd be there with me… And I took that too literally. She humored me, all four years of college, plus police academy training… Right up to when I broke the news that I was gonna be moving to Raccoon City. She was livid, to say the least. Asked me why I didn't try for Houston or Dallas or somewhere big, nice, less like a horror movie. I couldn't help it, Raccoon City was where the intrigue was. They needed a bunch of cops all of a sudden and there was a weird-ass mystery up in those mountains. The Ashcroft article sealed it for me, and drove the wedge between me and Jessica. I told her right before we were supposed to make the trip to look at a house on the outskirs, which, I'll admit, wasn't smart. She flipped out, said I was throwing away our future, and that was the start of our last argument.” Leon pressed his lips together, and sighed. “She didn't know I had a ring in my pocket that night, and I never told her. She packed up her stuff and left for… Somewhere better than Racoon City. That ring wound up in the bottom of a dumpster, and I wound up at the bottom of a bottle of Crown. Woke up the next morning with my alarm clock drilling into my skull, so I took the last shot from the bottle, showered, changed into my uniform, and chugged a case of Jolt Cola on the way to Raccoon City. It wasn't the smartest decision I ever made, but I'm pretty sure that kept me alive until the National Guard mobilized.”
Sherry clutched tightly at Leon's arm, and nestled her head into his side.
“Thanks for that, by the way.” She said gratefully.
Leon looked down at her questioningly.
“Hm?” He asked.
Sherry looked up at him with a warm smile.
“If you'd gotten yourself killed, I'd be dead, too.”
“Well,” Leon said, hugging Sherry affectionately. “You're welcome.”
“So how was life…” Sherry trailed off as she tried and failed to summarize. “All that?”
“Just like you said, go go go.” Leon continued. “There was the Europe mission right after that, I joined the Secret Service, then the formation of STRATCOM, Ashley Graham's abduction, Harvardville, dissolution of STRATCOM and the formation of the DSO, just one thing after another. I stayed focused on my job, a little too focused, I guess. Met a few girls through work, or…” Sherry knew he was talking about Ada. “Other ways. I tried to make connections, but it always fell apart because I didn't have the time. I made some friends, killed a few, buried some others…” Leon shook his head. “It’s the kind of life that doesn't lend itself to uplifting conversation… But through all of the chaos and blood and monsters, you want to know the one thing kept me going, especially back in Raccoon City?”
“What?” Sherry asked.
“You.” Leon replied. “When we got to the station, everything looked like it'd gone to hell. Seemed like it was so far gone there was nothing I could do but escape, and I wondered for an instant if I had anything worth escaping for. Then I saw you there, and I knew I had to do whatever it took to keep you alive. Someone had to, I figured it had to be me.”
“I’m glad it was you.” Sherry said softly. “I'm sorry for all the things that led you there, but I don't know what I would've done without you.”
“Thanks, I think.” Leon said. “And you're welcome.”
“I guess,” Sherry said pensively, “you've done a lot of thinking about what could've been, huh?”
Leon nodded.
“If you could answer my questions about it earlier with that kind of detail, I figure you must have.”
Leon pursed his lips, and sighed.
“For a long time, I thought about what I could've done to come to Raccoon City and keep Jessica with me…” He recited mournfully. “Eventually, I realized that whatever I did that would've led to her staying with me would've gotten her killed. So, in a roundabout way, that's one less death on my conscience, I guess.”
Sherry just shook her head.
“I don't know what to say.” She admitted. “Everything seems wrong.”
“Say whatever you honestly think.” Leon replied.
“I guess I'm glad things turned out alright in the end?” She wondered aloud. “I'm glad the paths we took crossed the way they have, and I'm glad you're happy now, and I'm really glad you're happy… Together with me… Just like I’d always dreamed about. Like I’d always planned…”
She forcefully parted herself from Leon, and covered her face in embarrassment.
“That sounds kinda cold and calculating, huh? When I lay it all out like this, it makes me feel selfish as hell…”
Leon laughed, and hugged Sherry around the shoulders.
“Sherry, twice now, you’ve come to me at the lowest point in my life, and both times you've helped me turn myself around for the better. Especially this time. If that's your idea of selfishness, I'm scared to see what you think generosity looks like.”
“Well I'm glad you feel that way.” Sherry muttered into her hands.
“Honey, I'm serious.” Leon replied, leaning his head against hers. “Just because doing something helps you get what you want doesn't mean it's a bad thing to do. It's not like you're the only one getting what you wanted. You wanted to be love me and see me be happy. I wanted someone to love you and see you be happy… And, deep down, I wanted to be happy myself, and have someone to love me, even if I didn't feel like I deserved it. Do you want to let me disappear into the night again, drinking my way into oblivion?”
“No…” Sherry replied.
“Then I'm more than happy with what you want.” He replied, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Because it seems like you want the best out of both of us.”
“Fine!” Sherry exclaimed suddenly, sitting bolt upright on the bed next to Leon as she turned to face him. “I'm going to tell you things I want, and you stop me when I say something that crosses a line, okay?”
Leon nodded
“Deal.”
“I want us to learn a new song to play together every month.” Sherry said, ticking numbers off on her fingers. “It doesn't have to be for anyone else, it doesn't even have to be complicated, it just has to be something we don't know that we can play together somehow.”
“Deal.” Leon affirmed.
“I want to cook at least one meal a week for you.” Sherry said, ticking off another finger.
“Cook as many as you want as long as you let me help you.” Leon replied. “And you can help me when I cook, deal?”
“Deal!” Sherry pressed a finger to her lips, trying to figure out something more ridiculous that she could ask. Not something that would be too ludicrous, just something she'd be okay with if he said ‘yes,’ but nothing she'd be disappointed in if he said ‘no.’
She settled on; “I want more than two kids.”
“At least three?” Leon asked playfully.
“We'll see how many I can handle, hot stuff.” Sherry replied with a flirtatious flutter of her eyebrows. “Let's see… I want us to have sex at least once a day. Assuming we’re not in mortal danger, or something!”
Leon clicked his tongue and shook his head in mock resignation.
“The sacrifices I make…” He said through a smirk. “Not that I’m complaining, but why so often?”
“Because uh…” Sherry wasn't sure how to explain it to him. “Oh god, I'm gonna sound like a horny girl.” She muttered in embarrassment.
“Hey, you're my horny girl.” Leon replied, and kissed Sherry on the cheek, which did absolutely nothing to help with the blush that was creeping up her cheeks.
“That's how often I masturbate.” Sherry blurted out. “And uh… Well, if I'm going to put in the effort, why do it alone?”
“Ah.” Leon said, nodding his head. “And when you used to… ‘Do it alone,’ did you ever have any… Electronic help?”
“No.” Sherry replied earnestly. “I uh… I don't know, I never really thought about it.”
“I was talking about porn, but sure.” Leon replied with a chuckle.
“Oh!” Sherry exclaimed. “Yeah, no, I'm a little selective about that… I don't usually find what I want in videos…”
“And what is it that you want to see?”
“Nothing weird!” Sherry exclaimed, waving her hands frantically. “Stuff that's not just sex and hookups, you know? Relationship stuff, romantic stuff that doesn't cut away when they get to it.”
Leon cracked up laughing, and Sherry was taken aback by the sudden display of levity.
“What?” Sherry asked bewildered.
“You know, you and I are on the same wavelength there.” Leon replied between laughs. “It was a nice thing to imagine. Just you and the person you loved,” he reached out and took Sherry's hand, “being close with each other. Trying for children.”
“Or getting them without trying.” Sherry said with a laugh. “I probably wound up going through more doujinshi than I did actual videos, just because it was easier to search for what I wanted. That's part of why I wanted to learn Japanese.”
“Yeah, it's nice to find something that's not weird or detached, huh?” He replied. “Just a shame when you find something that hits all the marks, but has something you can't stand ruining it.”
“Ugh.” Sherry groaned with a roll of her eyes. “Rookie mistake I made one too many times. You gotta read the other tags before you jump in. You think you're starting off with a cute couple, and then some douche comes in and ruins it.”
“Cuckoldry, cheating” Leon said, shaking his head. “Whatever you call it, I can't stand it.”
“I'm glad.” Sherry replied. “What kind of videos do you like?
“Anything I can mute and pretend isn't just people paid to pretend to like each other.” Leon admitted. “I don't really keep track. It's more fun when it's all fake, but sometimes you just want to see some real people. It just sucks when they're faking it.”
Sherry smirked flirtatiously.
“Is that why you're such a… Thoughtful lover for a recently former virgin?”
“I’ll have you know I'm actually a very selfish lover.” Leon replied in faux indignation. “It's no fun for me if it's no fun for you.”
“Well, I'm glad you're so selfish, then.” Sherry retorted.
“Seriously though, I see it like a cooperative exercise, with both of us working together to achieve something…” Leon gently squeezed her hand. “Maybe even to make something.”
Sherry couldn't help but pull Leon into a hug, squeezing him tightly.
“That was a long road to get to something sweet.” She whispered into his ear.
“Like the one I took to get to you.” He whispered back. “My sweet little Sherry.”
'Til Undeath Do Us Part Chapter 6: The Paths We Take
Leon and Sherry pulled up to the gate of the DSO campus, and Ned Anderson glanced up from his book to see Birkin pulling on her motorcycle with Kennedy's SUV behind her.
“Back again, Birkin?” Ned asked.
“Yup.” She replied as she eased to a stop near the gate.
“Who's that with you?”
“Agent Kennedy,” Sherry replied, hesitating only slightly before finishing the thought that flicked across her mind, “my boyfriend.”
“Alright.” Ned said as he pushed the gate button.
I forgot that Ned only cares about two things. Sherry thought as she and Leon rolled up to her dorm. Whatever he's reading, and whether you're supposed to be here or not. …I suppose it's a good thing he didn't comment on what I said, I would've had to correct myself.
They parked their vehicles, and Leon could barely hide his astonishment at the meager accommodations.
“It's, uh…” Leon hesitated as he chose his words.
“Cozy?” Sherry asked.
“I was going to say ‘spartan,’ but I guess that works, too.” Leon commented as they entered. “I didn't realize these places were so…” Leon reached up and touched the ceiling. “Enclosed.”
“I've never really minded it.” Sherry admitted. “Less square footage means less places to jump at shadows when I get a little paranoid.”
“You're optimistic to a fault, Sherry.” Leon replied wryly. “Sorry if I'm coming off like a wet blanket.”
“Leon, you're just being honest,” Sherry said, clasping both of his hands in her own, “and I wouldn't want you to be anything else. Besides, you're used to living in that big, open house with all that space.”
Leon scoffed.
“I wasn't always in a place like that. I don't know, I really don't have too many good feelings about cramped spaces” He said softly, squeezing her hands gently. “After mom and dad died, I lived in a tiny room in a Jersey foster home with two other kids. Tiny college dorm at A&M, tiny apartments and hotels after that. Never had a lot of space for myself.”
A smile grew across Sherry's lips.
“And you decided to invite me to share it with you anyway?”
A smile grew on Leon's face to match Sherry's.
“You got your foot in the door.” Leon whispered as he pulled her close. “Not that I minded letting you in. Space is nice to have, but it's better to share it with someone special than to have it all to your lonesome.”
Sherry felt her pulse quicken to a sprinting pace as they pressed themselves closely together, and even though they'd shared a bed, met each other's gaze and hugged and kissed each other countless times that day already, that didn't dampen the intensity of the cartwheels her heart performed as his arms looped around her back, lifting her up onto her tiptoes as she looped her arms around his shoulders, making their lips meet in the middle.
Sherry felt her cheeks grow hot and red as their lips parted ways once more.
“So uh…” Leon said softly, his breath tickling her burning cheeks as he spoke. “You keep her in there?”
Sherry had to gather her thoughts before she realized that Leon had indicated her gun safe in the corner, and that he was continuing their earlier conversation about Mathilda.
“Yeah.” She said hastily. “Uh, hang on.”
Sherry walked over to the safe, and almost tried to cover the keypad, then realized what she was doing, and giggled.
“You know, you could probably guess the code.” She said as she linked her hands behind her back.
Leon raised an eyebrow.
“Alright,” he said, linking his fingers and cracking his knuckles, “let's see…”
Leon thought for a moment, then typed in 07, 12, 86. The safe beeped angrily at him, and refused to open.
“My birthday?” Sherry asked. “Too obvious.”
“Alright, let's try mine then.” Leon said as he typed 07, 31, 77. It beeped angrily again.
“Nope.” Sherry said as she started to swing her arms back and forth behind her. “One more guess!”
Leon thought for a moment… Sherry wondered if he'd get the number on the next try, and what he would think about if he got to that conclusion.
Finally, he typed in 09, 26, 98, and the safe beeped happily.
“Outbreak day?” Leon asked as he opened the door.
“I like to think about it as the day we met.” Sherry replied with a bittersweet smile.
Leon shook his head as he retrieved Matilda's box from the bottom of the safe.
“You might be the only person in the world who has good memories about that date.” He said as he set the box atop the gun safe, and began reassembling Matilda.
“If I didn't focus on the good memories, I'd only have the bad ones.” Sherry said as she watched Leon's expert reassembly with intent.
“There she goes!” Leon said triumphantly as he finished putting the firearm back together, complete with the shoulder stock. “Good as new!”
“Better than new.” Sherry commented. “She didn't come with the stock standard, did she?”
“No…” Leon said as he turned the old pistol over in his hands. “I scavenged most of the parts from the station. I kept hoping someone would come asking for their stuff back but…” He shook his head as the memories of the dead of Raccoon City passed through his mind. “Nobody ever did.”
“I had some friends at school back then.” Sherry said somberly. “Not many, but they were my friends, close ones or not… On that day, I loaned an eraser to this girl who sat across from me, her name was Sarah. She used to lend me pencils when I broke mine, so we were always even eventually. When they sent us home early, we were in such a rush we forgot to get square at the end of the day.” Sherry let out a quick laugh, smiling as she recalled the events, and knelt, pulling the covers back to dig underneath her bed. “Once she found out I was alive, she called me up and tried to give it back to me. I told her to keep it.”
Sherry retrieved a battered old pencil case from atop a padded zipper case with a spoked wheel on the end, and withdrew a couple of pencils with the initials S.M. carved into them.
“I think she was the only classmate I had who survived the outbreak.” Sherry continued mournfully as tears started to well up in her eyes. “She and her dad only made it out alive because the S.T.A.R.S crew stuck around.”
“We can't always save everyone…” Leon said softly, placing a hand on Sherry's shoulder. “But it's important to help the people we can, to remember who we've lost, and keep living the lives we've got.”
Sherry sniffed, and chuckled as she replaced the pencils in the old case.
“Do I have to remember everyone I've lost?” She asked, kneeling to replace the box.
“Not every memory we have is going to be a good one.” Leon said as his hands brushed across the scar on his chest subconsciously. “But even the bad ones make us who we are. If we didn't remember the bad things, we'd never be able to learn from the experience. Good times can lead to bad, bad times to good, and all of that makes,” He gestured around them, “this big mess we call ‘our lives.’”
“Do you ever wonder about life?” Sherry asked. “About how different it could be, if something changed for the better?”
“What do you mean?”
“Hypothetically,” Sherry said as she sat on the floor next to her bed, “if you could go back in time, stop your parents from being killed, you would, right?”
“I might.” Leon said, taking a seat next to her. “But that might just kill who I am now, and that'd cause a lot of people a lot of harm. If I could guarantee a good outcome, sure… But you never know what path life will take you on until you're walking down it, and you still don't know where each step leads until you take the last one.” He looped an arm around Sherry's shoulder, and hugged her gently. “The path I took led me here. So, despite it all, I think I'm doing alright.”
Leon pulled Sherry even closer to whisper in her ear.
“And I'm not just saying that because you're my girlfriend, either.”
Sherry scoffed, and pressed her cheek against Leon's with a joyful smirk.
“I'm not your girlfriend.” She replied playfully.
“Right, we kinda skipped past that, didn't we?”
“I think that stage lasted all of a couple of hours.” She murmured into his ear. “I made the same mistake earlier, telling Ned who you were.”
“You could tell Ned the sky was purple and you were in love with Bugs Bunny and he wouldn't care unless you weren't supposed to be here.” Leon said with a chuckle. “What made you want to ask about time travel?”
Sherry sighed, and leaned her head back against the edge of her bed.
“You were talking about how you were so happy last night you thought you were dreaming, and when I got back here, I got all nervous and giddy, and wondered what I'd do if I woke up and all of this,” Sherry gestured between her and Leon, “was just wishful thinking.”
“I think what you did worked out fine.” Leon reassured her with a friendly squeeze of the shoulder. “Honestly, if you did that at just about any point in my life, I think it would've worked.”
“Even if you were sober?”
Leon laughed heartily, shaking Sherry and the bed with his guffaws.
“I wasn't that drunk,” he replied, “I just don't remember what was real and what was a dream.”
“What would've been different if you'd been sober?” Sherry inquired.
“I probably would've been more careful.” He replied warmly. “Asked a few more questions, gave a few more answers…” Leon brushed his fingers across Sherry's face, guiding her gaze to meet his own. “Savored every last moment with you, and every last expression on your face.”
“Hug me, kiss me?”
“Obviously.”
“Tell me you love me?” She asked with a lopsided lovestruck smile.
“Of course I would.” Leon replied. “You're not tired of hearing that, are you?”
Sherry blew a dismissive raspberry.
“Of course not.” She said disdainfully. “What about you?”
“Say it again a few thousand times, then ask me again.” He said with a wry grin as he glanced down at the spoked logo on the case behind them. “What's this?”
“Oh!” Sherry said as she moved out of the way to pull the case out between them. “That's my keyboard. I was taking piano lessons from Jill before uh… Everything happened. I don't have a lot of space to keep it set up, so I just tuck it under my bed when I'm not using it.”
“Nice.” Leon said as he unzipped the Yamaha keyboard. “We should learn to play a song together.”
“We should…” Sherry said as she opened the piano case, revealing an electronic piano with notes marked off on each key.
“You've got the notes written down on the keys.” Leon pointed out as Sherry removed the keyboard from its case and placed it on her bed.
“...Yeah,” she said sheepishly, “I'm not that great with it.”
“You’re learning, that's the important thing.” Leon said as he stood up and looked around the room, failing to find anywhere the keyboard could be adequately placed. “You set it up on your bed, huh?”
“Yeah, it's got a stand with it, but I really don't have space to leave it up, so I just put it down here when I want to play.”
“That can't be very comfortable.” Leon said, kneeling down next to Sherry as she switched the keyboard on and played the intro to Piano Man at half speed.
“I try to make do.” Sherry replied as she continued tapping out the song, glancing down at the keys and pausing briefly between phrases.
“You know…” Leon pondered. “It'd be a lot easier to practice if you had somewhere you could leave it all set up.”
“Mmm.” Sherry responded as she switched from Piano Man to Bohemian Rhapsody.
“Sherry,” Leon said as he gently brushed his fingers across Sherry's jawline, tickling her soft skin with his roughened hand, guiding her eyes away from the piano and back to him, “why don't you move in with me?”
Sherry's eyes grew wide, and her hands slipped, striking a sour chord on the keys as her head whirled.
“Really?” She asked meekly. “You’d really do that?”
“Of course I would.”
“What’ll be left for after the wedding?”
“Whatever we want.” Leon responded. “I don't want to spend another moment without you if I can help it.”
“I guess going all the way was just the start, huh?”
“You know it.” Leon said, taking Sherry's hand and pulling her to her feet, brushing one of the preset buttons on the keyboard as they stood. “Come on. If we start now, I think we can get everything loaded up in one trip.”
“Do we have to?” Sherry asked as she took Leon's other hand, and a soft, romantic backing track began to play from the keyboard’s speakers. “I mean, if it's alright with you, we could make it two trips. Get most of it tonight, but leave the kitchen and the TV for tomorrow morning… I've never had a guy spend the night at my place before, it'd be a shame to let that opportunity go to waste. I could make us some dinner, you could pick us out a movie, and then… We see where the night takes us.” Sherry's alluring smile told Leon that she knew exactly where the night was going to take them.
“Dinner’s a ways away.” Leon pointed out. “When we're done, we can hit the home gym, and grab lunch afterward?”
“I know a place that does a garlic chicken panini with fresh basil and tomatoes.” She suggested as she laced her fingers with Leon's, and swayed back and forth together as though they were dancing, despite remaining mostly still. “It's delicious.”
“Sounds like a date.” Leon replied.
“How many would that make?”
“Do we count the wedding?”
Sherry shrugged.
“Sure.”
“Wedding, the bar, the range and lunch, that's four.”
“Raccoon City would've been a hell of a first date.” Sherry said with a flippant smirk.
Leon groaned, and laughed uncomfortably.
“You were twelve.” He muttered. “I don't want people thinking this is that kind of relationship.”
Sherry burst out giggling, and pulled Leon in for a hug.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” Sherry exclaimed into his chest. “Hey, I’m not twelve anymore.”
“You’d better not be.” Leon replied with a dry laugh. “That's awfully young to be a secret agent.”
“Hypothetically…” Sherry asked as they swayed in place to the music. “If I had to do all this again…”
“No sooner than July thirteenth, two-thousand four, okay?” Leon said pleadingly. “Even that's a little early.”
“That'd be the day after my eighteenth birthday.” Sherry replied. “About two and a half weeks before your twenty-seventh.”
“You've really been holding out for me for a long time, haven't you?”
Sherry nodded.
“I used to dream about spending time with you, dancing with you, maybe one day… Holding your hand and saying ‘I do.’” She muttered into his chest. “I hope that's not too creepy.”
“It’s sweet.” Leon said reassuringly.
“Laying it out like this makes me feel like your stalker.” Sherry lamented.
“Such a good stalker, you invited me into your home. I should really be more careful who I rescue in a zombie apocalypse.” Leon said, shaking his head. “She might want to make me the happiest man in the world some day.”
“That's you, alright.” Sherry said with a happy little smile. “Finding ways to make me feel like everything's going to be fine when I'm worrying.”
“I wouldn't make for a very good husband if I couldn't, would I?” Leon asked. “And if you're worrying about if you're on the right track, you're asking the right questions.”
“I don't think I've ever felt more safe or more nervous than I have today.” Sherry admitted. “Mortal peril is one thing, but the last thing I ever wanted was to disappoint you.”
“I'm not sure you could.”
“And I won't try to.” Sherry declared. “And I'll drop the hypotheticals, I can tell they make you uncomfortable.”
“Thanks.” Leon said appreciatively. “Not that I mind discussing our past, I just don't want anyone getting the wrong idea about us.”
“Perfectly understandable.” Sherry said as she leaned away from Leon, extending both of their arms. “At the end of the day, I made my own decisions, you made yours, and now here we are. Whatever happens is between us, to hell with what anyone else says. Besides, you're only, what, nine years older than me? Not exactly a May/December romance.”
“True,” Leon admitted, twirling Sherry away from him and then back into his arms. “I've just got enough people saying weird things about me, I don't want to add anything else in.”
“Like who?” Sherry asked as they swayed in time to the music. “Like what?”
“Crenshaw thought I was gay.” Leon recounted. “Even asked who the lucky guy was when I told him I wanted to take time off to get married.”
Sherry tried and failed to suppress her laughter.
“Why the hell would he think that?” She asked, bewildered.
Leon shook his head.
“I don't know, apparently someone on the internet said it.”
“Probably after it came out you weren't actually dating Ashley Graham.”
“Oh yeah, Mick thought you were gay, too.”
“Is that what you were talking about when I was outside?”
“Somewhat against my will.” Leon admitted. “Said you wouldn't stop staring at her on the news during that date you two had, but, knowing what I know about you, you had your eye on the guy in the picture near her, didn't you?”
Sherry nodded bashfully.
“He wouldn't have noticed, he never looked up from his puzzle book the whole time.” She recalled.
“What made you desperate enough to go on a date with him?” Leon asked.
“That rumor about you and Ashley.” Sherry admitted. “He wasn't the only one I went out with. I met some nice people, but nobody I really connected with. I almost gave up on finding anyone I had a… Spark with, until I got the invite to Chris and Jill's wedding. Then… Well, I just couldn't help myself.”
“We should thank Kathy for the seating arrangement.” Leon said with a grin.
“Yeah…” Sherry said wistfully. “Well, I guess we ought to start packing, huh?”
“I guess.” Leon said reluctantly.
Sherry switched off her keyboard, and packed it back up.
“What aren't we taking?” Leon asked. “Aside from the kitchen stuff and the television?”
“Bed came with the house,” Sherry said as she popped open the access panel at the bottom of her gun safe, and unbolted it from the floor. “I'd leave it even if it didn't though. Dresser did, too. Probably ought to leave ourselves the towels, soap and washcloths, and at least a change of clothes for me.”
“I'll grab myself a change of clothes when we leave my place.” Leon agreed. “How much does that thing weigh?”
“About four-hundred pounds, I think?” Sherry speculated.
“We'll save that for tomorrow, too.” Leon said. “I'll grab my dolly and rent a U-Haul for it, I don't think my trunk could handle the weight.”
“Let me pay for the rental?” Sherry pleaded. “I know we agreed to split stuff, but I wouldn't feel right letting you foot the bill on this big old thing.”
“Alright, alright.” Leon chuckled as Sherry shut the door of the safe. “Just this once.”
“Thank you.” Sherry said with relief. “I really don't want to be a gold digger.”
“It’ll be fifty bucks at most, Sherry, that's a gram.” Leon replied with a laugh.
“I know…” She replied. “I just don't want to… Take advantage of your good nature.”
“A lot of people would be worried about me taking advantage of your good nature.” Leon said as he peered under the bed near where the keyboard had come from, scanning for anything important that might be forgotten.
“I don't think you could.” Sherry replied with a giggle as she retrieved a clothes hamper from the bathroom. “You almost made yourself sleep on the couch last night.”
Leon laughed as he retrieved a beat up laptop case from under Sherry's bed.
“So that part was real…” Leon said sardonically. “I’d say I couldn't believe it, but that sure as hell sounds like me. This is yours, right?”
“Yeah, uh…” Sherry said as she pulled herself to her feet. “That's my computer.”
“You think we need any boxes?” Leon asked as he slung the laptop and keyboard cases on his shoulder.
“Probably not, at least not tonight.” Sherry admitted as she glanced around, taking inventory. “Your car’s pretty roomy, I think we can get my clothes in a hamper in the backseat, and my books can probably go on top of them.”
“Awesome.” Leon declared as he opened the front door.
Sherry emptied her clothes, save an extra shirt, pants, pair of socks, bra, and panties into the clothes hamper carefully as Leon loaded the electronics into his car. Once she was finished piling her books on top of her clothes, she placed the hamper on the bed, and walked to the kitchen, where she began to consider what to make for dinner.
“How does Shichimi chicken and broccoli with basmati rice and a Crème Fraîche sauce sound?” Sherry asked as Leon reentered.
“Spicy Japanese chicken in a French cream sauce?” He asked as he walked up to her and hugged her tightly. “You have been hanging around with Jill. But I dunno, it sounds a little rich, like we might have to work extra hard to burn it off.” He said with a suggestive smile.
“Hey, if we go like we did last night, we might burn even more than I could make.” Sherry replied seductively. “We should work out extra hard before our lunch date…”
“Eager to work up an appetite?”
“Depends on what it’s for.”
“You wanna take your bike?” Leon asked.
“No,” Sherry said with a shake of her head. “I want to ride with you. We’re coming back anyway, shame to waste the gas.”
“Alright, is this everything we’re taking today?” Leon asked, indicating the hamper.
“We can take everything we won’t need.” Sherry replied. “Take a look at what I’ve got, pick something, we’ll leave it, take the rest.”
“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.” He said, reluctantly letting her go to kneel by the half-empty bookshelf. He passed over every film, DVD or Blu-ray at least once.
“I don't have City of Angels if that's what you're looking for.” Sherry interjected playfully.
“I wasn't, but if you want to watch it sometime, I've got the DVD.” Leon replied as he drummed along the top of the cases with his fingers. “Too many good choices. What's your favorite?” He asked, turning to Sherry.
She knelt next to him, and her hand immediately found Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.
“Here we go!” She exclaimed, handing him the Blu-ray case. “They're all my favorites, but I think this one's my most favorite.”
“Can't find any flaws in that line of thinking.” Leon said as he took the case and set it beside the television. “Everything else goes in the basket then?”
“Yup.” Sherry said as she began to carefully load the movies into the hamper with everything else she owned.
“You have any important documents you need?”
“Yeah, they’re all in there.” Sherry indicated the gunsafe. “It’s fireproof, so I figured I’d save some space.” She sighed, and glanced between the safe and the clothes hamper. “Seems weird to pack almost my entire life into a plastic clothes basket.” She lamented as she retrieved her old pencil case and deposited it at the top of the collection of her belongings.
“I've done it a few times…” Leon said as Sherry picked up the hamper. “Cardboard boxes, backpacks and briefcases… Sheesh, half my life I think I’ve spent packing everything I own into a goddamn box.”
“Is that why you have everything spread out on the ground floor?” Sherry asked.
“I guess.” Leon said with a shrug as he opened the door for her, and they exited the tiny abode. “Never really considered it. I just wanted somewhere I could work without bumping into myself.”
Sherry tried to push her intrusive thoughts aside as she loaded the basket into the backseat of Leon's car, next to her keyboard and computer… But the fact that she had so little and he seemed to have so much… It weighed on her as she locked her front door and boarded the front passenger seat.
“Do you think we ought to get a pre-nup?” She blurted out as Leon started up the vehicle.
He glanced at her blankly as the gears turned in his head, trying to understand why she'd ask that question.
“I hadn't thought about it.” He admitted. “Why, do you have a bunch of debt I need to worry about?”
Sherry shook her head.
“No. Why, do you?”
“No.”
Sherry felt herself shocked back into her seat, and she absentmindedly buckled her seatbelt as Leon pulled out.
“Not even a mortgage on that big new house?” She asked, baffled.
“No, President Graham paid for the whole thing after Spain.” Leon said as they drove back to the gate.
Sherry let out a whistle.
“Look, I trust you, Sherry.” Leon said, patting her on the knee reassuringly as the gate slid open. “I don't want to put a bunch of paperwork in the way of that. And… If worse comes to worse, I don't want you to have any legal obstacles between you and a good life if-”
“Don't say that, don't even think that.” Sherry snapped as she clutched at Leon's wrist possessively. “You’re sticking around until both of us are old and withered, got it? Then you're sticking around a little longer so we can see our great grandchildren get married.”
Leon chuckled, and twisted his hand to clutch back at Sherry's.
“Alright, alright.” He said as he leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head, then returned his full attention to the road as they pulled away.
A niggling feeling still burned in the back of Sherry's mind though, unable to be quenched by Leon's reassurance.
He could just be saying whatever he thinks I want to hear because he's lonely. She thought nervously. No, no, he's too straightforward for that. He thought had to apologize for what he said about my house, didn't he? God, Sherry, calm the hell down, he's a grown man.
“Thanks for asking me to move in, by the way.” Sherry blurted out.
Leon glanced over at her, while keeping his eyes on the road.
“Yeah, don't mention it.” He replied casually. “It's gotta happen eventually, might as well do it sooner than later. Did I ever thank you for the Gatorade last night?”
“You don’t have to, but you’re welcome anyway.” Sherry said with a giggle.
“No, seriously, I’ve never had that much to drink and not at least had a headache the next day.”
“Well, I’m glad I could help.” Sherry replied. “Just as long as you don’t take it as a license to booze.”
Leon smirked, and shook his head.
“I wasn’t planning to. How’d you know about that trick, anyway?”
“Uh, YouTube.” Sherry replied. “A bartender made a video about how to not get a hangover, one of the things he said was drink a lot of electrolytes and water. I uh… I didn't want you to… Have any regrets about our time together in the morning.”
A smile worked its’ way across Leon’s face.
“Now why would I regret a thing like that?” He wondered aloud.
“Just trying to be prepared I guess.” Sherry said.
“Listen, I appreciate the thought, and I definitely appreciate not being hung over.” Leon replied. “You have to deal with a lot of them?”
Sherry shook her head.
“No.” She declared. “Not often, anyway. First and only one I ever had was the day after my twenty-first birthday.”
“That would've been 07, 12, 07.” Leon stated. “That was right around the time of the Harvardville incident, wasn't it?”
“Yup!” Sherry said, perhaps a little too loudly. “I invited Claire up to DC for it, but she got hung up at the airport, never made her flight because of it. I took a cab from Maryland, and the two of us were going to have sort of a reverse surprise party with you… But both of you got caught up in all of that. So, I had a hotel room, a week's vacation and three of the strongest bottles of vodka I could find, and nobody to share it with. So, I drank all three of them, and passed out watching Futurama.”
“You didn't have anyone in Maryland you wanted to have a party with?”
Sherry shook her head.
“Not really. I just hoped that you and I could maybe get together, catch up with Claire at a restaurant, come back to my hotel, share a few drinks, and… See what happened next. But I wound up overloading myself, and woke up feeling like I was going to die. Looked up ‘hangover cures’ on YouTube, and spent the rest of the drive back to Maryland wishing I'd known all that the previous night.” Sherry scoffed. “I felt so fucking guilty after that. A big old outbreak, and my first thought was how it ruined my birthday plans.”
“The fact that you said it was your ‘first thought’ tells me that you had a few others.” Leon retorted.
“Well, yeah.” Sherry muttered. “I was worried about you and Claire. Then when I saw the death toll, I felt even worse about it.”
“You're not a bad person for caring about how something affects you before you think about everything else.” Leon said as they pulled up to his house. “That's just a normal reaction. ‘Oh no, this ruined my plans, I hope my friends are okay, oh no, a lot of people's lives are in shambles.’ It's a natural thought process, and as long as you keep going down that path, and you have, you're fine.”
Sherry just sat in silence for a moment, staring forward at her new home.
“And feeling a little guilty about the order you had your feelings in is fine,” Leon said, poking her in the shoulder with a finger, “but you gotta get over it eventually, or I might get worried about you.”
“Yeah…” She said finally. “It's just a lot, you know? First day of the rest of my life with you.” She said as she reached over and gripped Leon's hand on the steering wheel. “It's everything I've ever wanted, and I wouldn't take back a thing that's happened, but damn…” A tiny smile flashed across her lips. “It's a big old change, huh?”
“Tell me about it.” Leon replied wistfully. “I put down the specs and the floorplan, saw every step of the construction, and it still felt weird moving in. It seemed… Big. Permanent, even.”
“How long have you had the place?” Sherry asked.
“Uh, started construction in ‘05, finished about six months later, so it's coming up on eight years.” Leon recalled.
Sherry whistled.
“Still looks brand new.”
“It should, I pay enough for the upkeep.” Leon replied wryly.
“How much?”
“Something like three, four hundred a month?” Leon speculated. “Cheaper than paying rent, and I'm not always here to do it myself, so I guess it balances out.”
“That’alf the cost of my rent.” Sherry commented as they exited the vehicle and Leon unlocked the front door.
“They made you pay to live there?” Leon asked incredulously as Sherry slung her laptop over her shoulder and hauled her hamper full of belongings and clothing out of his backseat. “What the hell are my taxes paying for if the prettiest girl in the agency is paying to live somewhere like that?”
“Stop it!” Sherry exclaimed with an embarrassed blush as they passed each other near the doorway.
Leon retrieved the keyboard from his car as Sherry set her things on the stairs.
“You want this over there,” he asked, indicating his guitar on its stand in the corner, “or upstairs?”
“Over there's fine.” Sherry replied. “Here, I'll get the stand set up.”
Leon set the case on the floor next to his guitar, and Sherry flipped the case over, unzipped it upside-down, then unfolded the legs, rocked it over onto its’ feet, and clapped her hands triumphantly.
“Voila!” She exclaimed. “It hasn't been set up like that since I bought it.”
“How many times did you play it a week?”
“Once or twice, sometimes more if I had the energy to unpack and pack it back up.”
“I'll try to get down here and play with you at least that often.” Leon promised as he switched the keyboard on and tapped out the opening chords of Jump by Van Halen.
“Not bad.” Sherry commented.
“Thanks.” Leon replied. “I guess we should make a spot for your stuff upstairs, huh?”
“Yeah… Look, are you sure you want me to put everything up there with yours?” She asked. “I can manage living out of the basket for a few days.”
“Why would I let you live like a visitor in your own home?” Leon asked smoothly.
Sherry couldn't help but smile, and throw herself into Leon's arms.
“And how, exactly, did you manage to make it this far without getting serious with anyone?” Sherry wondered aloud. “With lines that smooth, you should be the spokesman for Skippy Peanut Butter.”
“Only problem.” Leon said wryly as he looped his arms around her. “I'm a Jif guy.”
“Better hope you're a good actor.”
“I’m not,” Leon replied, ‘I'm just quick-witted.”
They hauled Sherry's things upstairs, and found places for her books and movies in the entertainment center below the television. They used some spare hangers to hang her shirts and skirts in the closet, and placed her pants and athletic wear in a series of empty drawers at the bottom of the closet.
“So I told you my worst hangover story.” Sherry said as she clipped her last skirt into place. “What about you?”
Leon rubbed his chin as he considered the subject.
“I've got two, for different reasons.” He said finally. “Like you, day after my twenty-first was pretty bad, I think it might even take the cake for the worst headache I've ever had.”
“What happened?”
Leon shrugged.
“Dove in headfirst like you did, shots of Jack Daniel's with the guys all night long.”
“You ever have anything to drink before that?” Sherry asked curiously as she planted herself on the couch.
“Nope.” He said with a shake of his head as he sat across from her on the bed. “You?”
Sherry turned up her nose at Leon.
“I'm insulted you'd ask that!” She exclaimed in faux outrage. “What kind of prude do you think I am?”
Leon raised an eyebrow at his fiance as a grin grew across his face.
“The answer’s ‘no,’ isn't it?” He asked facetiously.
Sherry giggled as she allowed her gaze to drop in mock sorrow.
“Yeah, the answer's no…” She replied. “Didn’t have any opportunities for underage drinking, nor really any desire. After the disaster of my twenty-first, I just fix myself a gin and tonic every Friday night before bed. Not enough to get me drunk, not enough to get a hangover. Most drinking I've done in six years was those shots last night. So, what was the other time?”
Leon hesitated.
“What?” Sherry asked.
“I don't want to tarnish your fantasies about me too badly.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You could never.” Sherry exclaimed as she sprang to her feet and plopped herself onto the bed next to Leon. “Come on, babe, spit it out. Or I might have to tickle you!”
“Okay, okay!” Leon replied with a smile as Sherry made her fingers dance along his neck. “It wasn't so much the raw hangover as much as it was everything else that happened that day. September twenty-eighth, ninety-right.”
Sherry's eyes grew wide.
“No!” She exclaimed. “You were hung over on outbreak day? How? Why?”
“It's a complicated story.”
“We've got time, and I'm all ears.”
Leon shook his head.
“I guess you told me about your dating history, fair is fair.” Leon said with a bashful shrug.
“Ohhhh, it was a girl.” Sherry said teasingly. “Sorry.” She continues, composing herself. “Go ahead.”
“I picked A&M because it had what I wanted for a double major, mechanical engineering and criminal justice. In the criminal justice classes, I met a girl named Jessica Carter, cheerleader, future lawyer, and we started going out.” Leon shook his head as he reminisced. “She said I was going to be the most overqualified cop in the state, but if I wanted to do it, she'd be there with me… And I took that too literally. She humored me, all four years of college, plus police academy training… Right up to when I broke the news that I was gonna be moving to Raccoon City. She was livid, to say the least. Asked me why I didn't try for Houston or Dallas or somewhere big, nice, less like a horror movie. I couldn't help it, Raccoon City was where the intrigue was. They needed a bunch of cops all of a sudden and there was a weird-ass mystery up in those mountains. The Ashcroft article sealed it for me, and drove the wedge between me and Jessica. I told her right before we were supposed to make the trip to look at a house on the outskirs, which, I'll admit, wasn't smart. She flipped out, said I was throwing away our future, and that was the start of our last argument.” Leon pressed his lips together, and sighed. “She didn't know I had a ring in my pocket that night, and I never told her. She packed up her stuff and left for… Somewhere better than Racoon City. That ring wound up in the bottom of a dumpster, and I wound up at the bottom of a bottle of Crown. Woke up the next morning with my alarm clock drilling into my skull, so I took the last shot from the bottle, showered, changed into my uniform, and chugged a case of Jolt Cola on the way to Raccoon City. It wasn't the smartest decision I ever made, but I'm pretty sure that kept me alive until the National Guard mobilized.”
Sherry clutched tightly at Leon's arm, and nestled her head into his side.
“Thanks for that, by the way.” She said gratefully.
Leon looked down at her questioningly.
“Hm?” He asked.
Sherry looked up at him with a warm smile.
“If you'd gotten yourself killed, I'd be dead, too.”
“Well,” Leon said, hugging Sherry affectionately. “You're welcome.”
“So how was life…” Sherry trailed off as she tried and failed to summarize. “All that?”
“Just like you said, go go go.” Leon continued. “There was the Europe mission right after that, I joined the Secret Service, then the formation of STRATCOM, Ashley Graham's abduction, Harvardville, dissolution of STRATCOM and the formation of the DSO, just one thing after another. I stayed focused on my job, a little too focused, I guess. Met a few girls through work, or…” Sherry knew he was talking about Ada. “Other ways. I tried to make connections, but it always fell apart because I didn't have the time. I made some friends, killed a few, buried some others…” Leon shook his head. “It’s the kind of life that doesn't lend itself to uplifting conversation… But through all of the chaos and blood and monsters, you want to know the one thing kept me going, especially back in Raccoon City?”
“What?” Sherry asked.
“You.” Leon replied. “When we got to the station, everything looked like it'd gone to hell. Seemed like it was so far gone there was nothing I could do but escape, and I wondered for an instant if I had anything worth escaping for. Then I saw you there, and I knew I had to do whatever it took to keep you alive. Someone had to, I figured it had to be me.”
“I’m glad it was you.” Sherry said softly. “I'm sorry for all the things that led you there, but I don't know what I would've done without you.”
“Thanks, I think.” Leon said. “And you're welcome.”
“I guess,” Sherry said pensively, “you've done a lot of thinking about what could've been, huh?”
Leon nodded.
“If you could answer my questions about it earlier with that kind of detail, I figure you must have.”
Leon pursed his lips, and sighed.
“For a long time, I thought about what I could've done to come to Raccoon City and keep Jessica with me…” He recited mournfully. “Eventually, I realized that whatever I did that would've led to her staying with me would've gotten her killed. So, in a roundabout way, that's one less death on my conscience, I guess.”
Sherry just shook her head.
“I don't know what to say.” She admitted. “Everything seems wrong.”
“Say whatever you honestly think.” Leon replied.
“I guess I'm glad things turned out alright in the end?” She wondered aloud. “I'm glad the paths we took crossed the way they have, and I'm glad you're happy now, and I'm really glad you're happy… Together with me… Just like I’d always dreamed about. Like I’d always planned…”
She forcefully parted herself from Leon, and covered her face in embarrassment.
“That sounds kinda cold and calculating, huh? When I lay it all out like this, it makes me feel selfish as hell…”
Leon laughed, and hugged Sherry around the shoulders.
“Sherry, twice now, you’ve come to me at the lowest point in my life, and both times you've helped me turn myself around for the better. Especially this time. If that's your idea of selfishness, I'm scared to see what you think generosity looks like.”
“Well I'm glad you feel that way.” Sherry muttered into her hands.
“Honey, I'm serious.” Leon replied, leaning his head against hers. “Just because doing something helps you get what you want doesn't mean it's a bad thing to do. It's not like you're the only one getting what you wanted. You wanted to be love me and see me be happy. I wanted someone to love you and see you be happy… And, deep down, I wanted to be happy myself, and have someone to love me, even if I didn't feel like I deserved it. Do you want to let me disappear into the night again, drinking my way into oblivion?”
“No…” Sherry replied.
“Then I'm more than happy with what you want.” He replied, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Because it seems like you want the best out of both of us.”
“Fine!” Sherry exclaimed suddenly, sitting bolt upright on the bed next to Leon as she turned to face him. “I'm going to tell you things I want, and you stop me when I say something that crosses a line, okay?”
Leon nodded
“Deal.”
“I want us to learn a new song to play together every month.” Sherry said, ticking numbers off on her fingers. “It doesn't have to be for anyone else, it doesn't even have to be complicated, it just has to be something we don't know that we can play together somehow.”
“Deal.” Leon affirmed.
“I want to cook at least one meal a week for you.” Sherry said, ticking off another finger.
“Cook as many as you want as long as you let me help you.” Leon replied. “And you can help me when I cook, deal?”
“Deal!” Sherry pressed a finger to her lips, trying to figure out something more ridiculous that she could ask. Not something that would be too ludicrous, just something she'd be okay with if he said ‘yes,’ but nothing she'd be disappointed in if he said ‘no.’
She settled on; “I want more than two kids.”
“At least three?” Leon asked playfully.
“We'll see how many I can handle, hot stuff.” Sherry replied with a flirtatious flutter of her eyebrows. “Let's see… I want us to have sex at least once a day. Assuming we’re not in mortal danger, or something!”
Leon clicked his tongue and shook his head in mock resignation.
“The sacrifices I make…” He said through a smirk. “Not that I’m complaining, but why so often?”
“Because uh…” Sherry wasn't sure how to explain it to him. “Oh god, I'm gonna sound like a horny girl.” She muttered in embarrassment.
“Hey, you're my horny girl.” Leon replied, and kissed Sherry on the cheek, which did absolutely nothing to help with the blush that was creeping up her cheeks.
“That's how often I masturbate.” Sherry blurted out. “And uh… Well, if I'm going to put in the effort, why do it alone?”
“Ah.” Leon said, nodding his head. “And when you used to… ‘Do it alone,’ did you ever have any… Electronic help?”
“No.” Sherry replied earnestly. “I uh… I don't know, I never really thought about it.”
“I was talking about porn, but sure.” Leon replied with a chuckle.
“Oh!” Sherry exclaimed. “Yeah, no, I'm a little selective about that… I don't usually find what I want in videos…”
“And what is it that you want to see?”
“Nothing weird!” Sherry exclaimed, waving her hands frantically. “Stuff that's not just sex and hookups, you know? Relationship stuff, romantic stuff that doesn't cut away when they get to it.”
Leon cracked up laughing, and Sherry was taken aback by the sudden display of levity.
“What?” Sherry asked bewildered.
“You know, you and I are on the same wavelength there.” Leon replied between laughs. “It was a nice thing to imagine. Just you and the person you loved,” he reached out and took Sherry's hand, “being close with each other. Trying for children.”
“Or getting them without trying.” Sherry said with a laugh. “I probably wound up going through more doujinshi than I did actual videos, just because it was easier to search for what I wanted. That's part of why I wanted to learn Japanese.”
“Yeah, it's nice to find something that's not weird or detached, huh?” He replied. “Just a shame when you find something that hits all the marks, but has something you can't stand ruining it.”
“Ugh.” Sherry groaned with a roll of her eyes. “Rookie mistake I made one too many times. You gotta read the other tags before you jump in. You think you're starting off with a cute couple, and then some douche comes in and ruins it.”
“Cuckoldry, cheating” Leon said, shaking his head. “Whatever you call it, I can't stand it.”
“I'm glad.” Sherry replied. “What kind of videos do you like?
“Anything I can mute and pretend isn't just people paid to pretend to like each other.” Leon admitted. “I don't really keep track. It's more fun when it's all fake, but sometimes you just want to see some real people. It just sucks when they're faking it.”
Sherry smirked flirtatiously.
“Is that why you're such a… Thoughtful lover for a recently former virgin?”
“I’ll have you know I'm actually a very selfish lover.” Leon replied in faux indignation. “It's no fun for me if it's no fun for you.”
“Well, I'm glad you're so selfish, then.” Sherry retorted.
“Seriously though, I see it like a cooperative exercise, with both of us working together to achieve something…” Leon gently squeezed her hand. “Maybe even to make something.”
Sherry couldn't help but pull Leon into a hug, squeezing him tightly.
“That was a long road to get to something sweet.” She whispered into his ear.
“Like the one I took to get to you.” He whispered back. “My sweet little Sherry.”
'Til Undeath Do Us Part: Chapter 5: A Day at the Ranges
Sherry Birkin opened her gun safe, and pondered which of her firearms she wanted to take to the range for her date with Leon.
Is it really a date? She wondered as she passed over her meager collection. She had a standard Sig Sauer P229, a Glock 19, a Beretta 92F, and her custom made Triple Shot pistol, as well as a couple of rifles she didn't consider adequate candidates for the occasion. And, at the bottom, in a black armored box with a piece of paper taped to the outside that read “To Sherry M. Birkin, on the occasion of your academy graduation, from Leon S. Kennedy,” there was a Heckler & Koch VP70 in several pieces.
Sherry retrieved the case, and opened it apprehensively. Atop the components of the gun was a note, which read; “This is Matilda. She got us through Raccoon City. Treat her right, and she'll get you through even more. Sorry I couldn't be there for your graduation. I'm proud of you, and I think you'll make a fine agent. All my love, Leon.”
He hadn't meant it the way he'd mean it if he said it now, but the words still meant the world to her when she'd opened the present. But, for the life of her, Sherry could not successfully reassemble the heavy pistol after she'd taken it apart to clean it, and so, for the past few years, it had been relegated to the box it had arrived to her in, at the bottom of her gun safe. She cared for it in the manner she cared for her other weapons, but she couldn't figure out how to get the springs to compress right.
Wouldn't it be nice to show up with his old gun? She wondered as she tried once again in vain to reassemble the heavy weapon. It'd be a nice gesture, wouldn't it? If only I could actually get it back together.
What the hell was Irons thinking making this a standard issue weapon? She wondered in frustration. Answer: He probably wasn't.
The old Raccoon City police chief was nuts at the best of times, and by the time Leon had joined the department, he'd been downright certifiable.
Sherry sighed, returned Matilda to her box, and the box to the bottom of the gun safe.
I should look up a guide when I have more time, maybe see if there are lighter springs I can use. Sherry thought as she retrieved her trusty Triple Shot and holster. And I should ask Leon what the story behind the name is, come to think of it.
But really, is this a date? Sherry thought as she retrieved a box of Red Hawk nine millimeter rounds from the safe, and loaded a series of magazines. It seemed a little strange to her, pondering the specifics of an arrangement she and Leon had made on a whim when they'd pledged their lives to each other not that long ago… But Sherry had been on more than a few dates before, and none of them had involved something like this, or someone she was as close to. All of them had involved some kind of mundane nonsense with someone she barely knew and rarely saw again after a quick “goodbye” at end of the date.
That was the problem. She thought as she stored her magazines across her person. Nobody else considered going to the gun range a romantic getaway. God, we're weird, aren't we?
Sherry placed herself in front of her bathroom mirror, and twirled her unloaded Triple Shot like an old-west gunslinger, before snapping into a pose out of a James Bond movie.
She cracked herself up laughing as she holstered her gun.
I wonder if he'd think that was embarrassing, or adorable. Or maybe adorably embarrassing. Guess I can just do it in front of him and find out.
Sherry looked herself over in the mirror. She'd given herself a quick look in Leon's bathroom earlier, but that had been earlier, an entire walk through town and motorcycle ride home ago. Not that she was overly concerned with her appearance, especially around Leon, but Sherry felt a giddy nervousness in every part of her body, and as a result, felt the need to assure herself that she wasn't falling to pieces.
I look fine, right? She wondered as she examined herself. Yeah… I'm fine. Just worrying for nothing. Get your head in the game, Sherry, it's just a date, if you screw up, you've got the rest of your life with him to make it right. I'm getting girlishly nervous about going out with the man I've had sex with, the man who asked me to marry him, the man of my dreams… Maybe I'm just afraid he's going to come to his senses, hell, maybe I'm afraid I'm dreaming. Because that's what it feels like, a dream come true. You can't help yourself by worrying about it, Sherry. If he mentions Matilda, just tell him the truth, you know he'll understand. And if, when you go to sleep tonight, and the next day, you wake up for real, without him, still a virgin, still a leap of faith away from him, at least you have an idea of what to do, right?
Stop. Fucking. Worrying.
Leon left the chief's office with a mock salute to a still baffled Hunnigan, retrieved his twin Wing Shooter pistols from the safe in his office, his jacket and equipment vest from the coatrack in the corner, donned the lot, and drove to the range.
“Mornin’ Leon.” Mick Tatopolis, the range officer said as Leon entered. Tatopolis had a newspaper on his desk, with several sections askew, covering his keyboard and the control panel for the range’s shooting gallery.
“Morning Mick.” Leon greeted as he walked by Mick’s desk at the entrance. “Has Sherry been by yet?”
“Who?” Mick asked as he scanned his eyes across the security monitors.
“Sherry Birkin?”
Mick turned to stare blankly at Leon.
“Blonde girl, about this tall?” Leon said, holding a hand up to his shoulder.
“Oh.” Mick said, and shook his head. “No, nobody like her yet. You want me to get pattern C set up in the shooting gallery?”
“Surprise me.” Leon said as he removed his leather jacket, revealing the dual shoulder holsters he wore beneath. He made to hang his jacket on a coatrack on the wall on the way into the gallery, but froze as he spotted the front page of Mick’s newspaper on the corner of the desk.
“Benford’s Killer to be Decorated!” The headline read.
“Fuckin’ print anything these days.” Leon muttered as he hooked his jacket to the wall.
“Whatever it takes to sell a paper.” Mick said as he punched options into the computer.
“You bought it.” Leon retorted.
“I didn’t buy it for the headlines.” Mick said as he finished his programming, and clicked the last button. “Funny pages and the crosswords, that’s all these rags are good for these days.”
“Then you won’t mind if I put a few bullets into the front page.” Leon said as he snatched it off the desk.
“As many as you want to.” Mick replied. “I ain't readin’ that shit.”
“Let me know when Sherry shows up, I’m supposed to meet her here.” Leon said as he pulled a pair of noise-cancelling headphones with a communication mic off a rack near the door to the range rooms.
“Who?” Mick asked again.
“Agent Birkin,” Leon said in exasperation.
“Blonde girl, not too tall?”
“You got something wrong with you today, Mick?” Leon asked with a withering glance at the range officer.
“No, I’m just fucking with you.” Mick replied with a smirk. “Go on in, I’ll drop a hanger for you before the course starts.” Mick opened his desk drawer and tossed Leon a roll of duct tape.
“Time to cross out some headlines.” Leon said as he caught the roll.
Leon entered the gallery, retrieved a cardboard target from a stack in the corner, and dropped it, the newspaper, and the tape on a utility table near the firing line barrier. He draped the headset around his neck, then taped the front page to the target, hung it from the hook in the ceiling, and pushed the button on the barrier that sent the hanger down range.
When it was far enough away to make for a challenging distance shot, Leon drew both of his pistols and unloaded them in unison at the rag. He shredded both the paper and the cardboard target with his bullets as he marked a nearly perfect X shape through the offending headline.
“So much for freedom of the press.” He muttered bitterly as he ejected the empty magazines from his twin pistols, reloaded them, then withdrew the tattered target from the range.
“Now you've got that out of your system, you want me to fire up the gallery?” Mick asked over the radio in the headphones.
Leon turned his back to the firing line, a few feet from the red barrier, and reholstered his pistols, then reached up to extend his headset's boom arm, and pressed the lockable talk button.
“Hit it Mick.” He instructed the range officer, who flipped a switch, causing the target tracks to whir to life.
Leon listened closely as the seconds passed, and nothing happened.
A target passed into the range with a THUNK, from Leon's right, and he drew his pistol from its' holster and whirled to face the range. Leon brought his weapon to bear against the target, a nondescript drawing of a man with a gun on a sheet of metal, and before the cutout knew what hit it, Leon had already put two bullets in it in quick succession.
“Morning, Mick.” Sherry said as she entered the range.
Mick nodded at her as she walked up to his desk.
“Morning Sherry.” He muttered as he filled in a crossword between glances at the range monitors. “Kennedy’s already in the gallery, said he was expecting you. Want me to page him?”
Sherry shook her head.
“I'll wait.” She said with a smile as she gazed at Leon's movements through the monitors enraptured. “I want to surprise him.”
“Aight.” Mick said as he returned to his crossword.
“Aren't you supposed to be monitoring the range rooms?” Sherry asked.
“Why?” Mick asked as he filled in a row on his crossword. “It's only him out there.”
“You never did have an eye for the finer things in life, Mick.”
Mick glanced up from his newspaper at Sherry.
“What?” He asked, confused.
“Nevermind.” Sherry muttered as she followed Leon's every move like a hungry lioness stalking her prey.
Another target passed into the range from the left, and Leon snapped his sights onto it. It was a cutout of a woman with her hands up, but close behind her was another man with a gun rolling closely alongside.
Leon aimed to the trailing edge of the woman's cutout, and fired, taking out the cutout behind her with a well-timed shot with millimeters to spare.
“He only gets better with age, huh?” Sherry asked nobody in particular.
Mick looked up from his crossword again, and glanced at Sherry uncomfortably.
“Uh, sure.” He replied, and returned to his puzzle.
The targets came, and Leon assessed them and either shot them down or let them pass within an instant of their appearances, until he had run out of ammunition in one pistol. He dropped his magazine, and reloaded before the targets could pass out his line of fire, then continued until the course was completed.
Leon pressed the talk button again.
“How's my accuracy?” He asked the range officer.
“Lookin’ good, babe “ Sherry's voice said over his headphones. “Got room for a partner down there?”
A brief, soft chuckle sounded from Leon's mouth.
“Come on down, honey, let's burn some nines.” He replied. “Now put Mick back on so I can know what I scored.”
“Sorry about that,” Mick said through barely suppressed laughter. “She said she wanted to surprise you.”
“That's my girl, alright.” Leon said through a smile. “What's my score?”
“Good groupings, for the most part. You didn't hit a single civilian, tagged all of the enemy targets. Only one you were a little off on was the one behind the woman at the start.”
“Couldn't hit it any other way.” Leon replied as the range door opened, and Sherry entered. “Not bad for what, four hours of sleep?”
“If that.” Sherry replied over her own headset mic, then planted a kiss on Leon’s cheek that turned both of his a delightful shade of pink.
“Cop a gander at Rip Van Winkle over here with his four hours of sleep.” Mick replied sarcastically.
“Run us on firefight, Mick.” Sherry instructed. “Pattern A.”
“Jumping into the deep end?” Leon asked her as she locked her mic open.
“You know it.” Sherry replied as he locked his own mic open, and she situated herself to Leon's right. “When have we ever done anything different?”
“Touché,” Leon said as he holstered his right hand pistol, and clipped it into place with a retaining strap.
“Shooting southpaw today?” Sherry asked as she drew her pistol.
“Figured I'd give it a try,” Leon replied, sighting down the range with his left hand. “I usually shoot lefty as a backup, might as well run it primary sometimes.” Leon glanced over at the gun in Sherry's hand. “New gun?” He asked.
“Yeah.” Sherry said, presenting the weapon to him. “Built it myself. Switchable three round burst fire, just like Mathilda.”
“How’s she holdin' up?”
Sherry inhaled sharply and shot Leon a guilty look.
“Don't tell me you lost her!”
“No, no…” She said sheepishly. “I uh… Kinda broke her.”
Leon smiled and hugged Sherry as she tried to turn away.
“It's okay!” He said reassuringly. “It's just a gun.”
“Just your gun.” She replied apologetically.
“What happened?” Leon asked. “Trust me, I'm not mad, maybe I could help.”
“Well, she worked fine my whole first assignment, and when I got back to D.C., I tried to break it down and clean out the zombie residue, aaand now I can't get the trigger spring back in.” Sherry admitted.
“She's got a heavy trigger,” Leon admitted as he let Sherry go, and twirled one of his Wing Shooters by the trigger guard. “I'll show you how to get her back together when we get done here if you want.”
“Didn't you used to have a different gun, too?” Sherry asked.
“The Silver Ghost,” Leon replied with a nod, “it's in a box in the workshop, needs cleaning too.”
“I could do it if you want.” Sherry said as she twirled the Triple Shot by the trigger guard more confidently than she had earlier. “I'm pretty good with my hands, too. Maintain every gun I own personally.”
“The academy’s firearms instructor gave everyone’s gun a nickname,” Leon recalled, “and he joked that mine was my deadly little sidekick, like Léon in The Professional.”
Sherry giggled, and kissed Leon on the cheek again.
“You've got another deadly little sidekick now.” She joked.
“Hell yeah I do.” Leon said with a smile as he draped an arm across her shoulders and hugged her. “But I gotta say, you're a lot cuter than a gun.”
“But am I cuter than Natalie Portman?”
Leon looked into Sherry's gorgeous eyes for the umpteenth time that day, and answered with a warm grin, and zero hesitation.
“Of course.”
Sherry couldn’t help but laugh at the confidence with which Leon responded.
“That's not a great question to ask someone, is it?” She pondered.
“Not really.” Leon replied with a jovial laugh.
“But that wasn't just flattery, was it?”
Leon shook his head, and held out a hand to inspect Sherry's pistol, and she relinquished the weapon to him.
“Spotless.” He mused, and holstered his left pistol. He set the Triple Shot on the barricade front of them, and offered Sherry his right-hand Wing Shooter.
“Let's switch it up.” Leon suggested. “You get to see how I like my gear handled and I see how yours holds up to my handling.”
“Alright.” Sherry said with a smirk as she handed him her magazines. “Use a light touch with her, she's easy to bottom out.”
“You know I can hear you, right?” Mick commented over their headsets as Leon handed Sherry his magazines, prompting the two of them to blush momentarily.
“Whoops.” Leon said with an uncomfortable laugh as he turned away from the range.
“Still working on the twirl?” Sherry asked as she followed suit.
“Just because I can do it doesn't mean I can't do it better.” He replied.
Sherry giggled, and responded with a balletic pirouette.
“You guys ready yet?” Mick asked in exasperation. “Or should I go get checked for diabetes?”
“Hit it.” Leon ordered.
The course whirred to life again, and a target dropped from Leon's right. The two of them spun in unison, drawn down on the armed target before its’ tracking laser could paint either one of them, and they both shot the silhouette dead center of its chest.
A civilian target dashed across their line of fire, and the two of them briefly followed it, but didn't fire until an enemy entered at the opposite edge of the course. Before Leon even realized it, Sherry put two rounds in the target right as it aimed for his head.
He shot her a glance of appreciation that said a thousand words, which she returned with a nod as two more armed targets entered, and painted them with tracking lasers. They dove away from each other, below the barricade at the firing line, and popped up a few feet away as two more targets entered as well. Sherry popped two, and Leon got the others as a trio entered in quick succession.
He switched the Triple-Shot into burst fire mode, turned the pistol sideways, and cleared the group in a single pull of the trigger as he allowed the recoil to adjust his trajectory.
“There you go!” Sherry exclaimed with an approving pump of her fist.
Out of the corner of Leon's eye, he spotted a target moving into the gallery that Sherry hadn't noticed in her celebration. The targeting laser inches closer to her, and before Leon knew what he was doing, he shot his free right hand around Sherry's shoulder, and pulled her tightly to his chest as he spun her away from the line of fire, and fired a burst into the target, knocking it askew.
Sherry's heart thumped in her chest as she felt Leon's strong arm clutching her tightly to his body, but her reverie only lasted a moment before she spotted another target aiming their way, and it was her turn to spin the two of them as she took aim with Leon's Wing Shooter, and fired two rounds at center mass.
“Thanks.” Leon said a little too loudly as the couple disentangled themselves and returned to separate firing stances.
They burned through ammunition and targets like a wildfire through dry brush, and soon enough, they were done. The alarm sounded the end of the course, and Leon and Sherry breathed a sign of relief.
“Phew!” Sherry exclaimed as she passed Leon's gun back to him.
“I think Mick turned that one up.” Leon said as he accepted the weapon, and returned Sherry's.
“How'd she handle?” Sherry asked as she holstered the gun.
“Light as a feather, but she packs a mean punch. ” Leon replied smoothly. “What about mine?”
“Heavy duty, a little rough around the edges, but it handles smoothly when you know what you're doing.” Sherry said with a smirk.
Leon let out a laugh.
“Hey Mick, how'd we score?” He asked the range officer.
The silence from the control room was deafening.
“Mick?”
There was a click over the line and a pause.
“Sorry, I was booking a dentist appointment. Come on over, we can run the replay.”
Leon and Sherry cleaned up after themselves, and met Mick in the control room.
“You were both pretty good out there,” Mick said as he replayed the scenario in slow motion. “Neither of you got flagged by the targets for very long, but that little dance you did had both of you exposed, first Leon, then Sherry. A person might've clipped you faster than the machines did.”
Sherry reached for Leon's hand and squeezed it.
“Probably would've hit us worse if we hadn't been looking out for each other, huh?” She asked, almost more to Leon than to Mick.
“Probably.” Mick replied offhandedly. “If we factor in difficulty modifiers because there's two of you, you're looking at an A+ rank average. Not bad, considering how high I tuned it.”
“Toldya he turned it up.” Leon said jovially.
“Had to.” Mick said as he glanced down at his crossword. “Basic Pattern A would've been smoked with two people.”
“Smokin’ like you.” Sherry whispered into Leon's ear just loud enough for Mick to barely hear.
Tatopolis glanced up at Leon and Sherry blankly, then flicked his eyes back to the computer.
“You want me to eMail you the replay?” He asked, changing the subject.
“Sure.” They said in unison.
Mick blinked, put down his pencil and typed their eMail addresses in and fired off the replay to them with a click.
“Aight, you guys are set.” He said as he stood up and walked behind the cash register near the rental desk. “You two want a couple boxes of Red Eagles to reload?”
“Yeah, two each should do it.” Sherry said as she pulled her wallet out.
“I can pay for it, honey.” Leon said as he pulled out his own wallet.
“Nope,” Sherry said with a shake of her head, “the date was my idea, I get to pay for it.”
“I gotta pay for the rounds I spent before you got here.” Leon protested as he handed his card to a befuddled Mick.
“Don't you dare let him pay for it!” Sherry scolded Mick as she shoved her card at the range officer. “He's trying to spoil me.”
“It's four boxes, can't you just buy two apiece?” Mick asked wearily as he took both cards. “We can split the range time right down the middle.”
Leon and Sherry exchanged an awkward glance, then shrugged in unison.
“I guess we should just agree to split everything, huh?” Leon said to Sherry with a smile.
“I guess.” She lamented as Mick rang them out. “Is it a good sign if everything we fight about is us trying to be generous to each other?”
“Here you go.” Mick said, handing them their cards back.
“Probably.” Leon said as he took his card and the bag containing two boxes of Red Eagle 9mm rounds. “So, we're heading to your place now?”
Sherry nodded as she retrieved her own card and ammo.
“I can give you the two cent tour.” She said with a sarcastic laugh as she slung her own bag from one wrist and draped both arms around Leon's shoulders.
“See you there.” Leon said, then pulled Sherry up for a goodbye kiss that lasted just long enough for Mick to return to his crossword.
Sherry left the range with a bounce in her step. Leon wasn't to be far behind, but paused when Mick spoke up.
“You guys a thing, huh?”
Leon nodded.
“Guess you could say that.” He replied.
“Huh.” Mick said without looking up from his newspaper. “I would've sworn-”
Leon braced himself for Mick to say he thought Leon was gay.
“She was gay or something.” Mick finished.
Leon found himself suffering from almost deadly whiplash from the stupid thing he expected Mick to say to the stupid thing he'd actually said.
“How do you figure?” He asked without much consideration for the rabbit hole of Mick’s reasoning he was about to dive into.
“Went on a date with her about…” Mick screwed up his face as he tried to recall the occasion. “Five, six years ago? Didn't seem like she was that into it, she was staring at President Graham's daughter on the news.”
Leon started to put the pieces together in his head, and scoffed at Mick's expense.
“You really don't notice much, do you, Mick?” Leon asked.
“What do you mean?” Mick asked, glancing up from his puzzle.
“Were you nose-deep in your crossword the whole time?”
“I don't see what that's got to do with anything.”
“You wouldn't, would you?” Leon asked as he made for the door once more. “See you around.”
Captain Phasma had served Emperor Palpatine since before the Clone Wars began. Through his days as a Senator on Naboo, she served with the Naboo security forces, through the Separatist occupation.
When he became Chancellor, she joined the Coruscant Security Force. When The Clone Wars began, she volunteered for The Grand Army of the Republic, and became the only non-Clone outside of other select volunteer forces and the Jedi to serve in the field as a trooper.
She'd been by his side through assassination attempts, through the attack by the Jedi, through Order 66 and the formation of the Galactic Empire. It seemed only fitting that she witness his fall as well.
In her role as captain of the Coruscant Security Force, she was responsible for maintaining order around the Senate building, a task she performed with gusto, and was, as such, rewarded immensely for.
After The Clone Wars, Phasma was awarded command of The Emperor's newly-branded elite troops, the first Stormtrooper legion. After Lord Vader had executed five other commanders, of course.
Phasma had no worry about how Lord Vader would view her command. She expected the same out of the Stormtroopers as had been expected of her from Captain Panaka on Naboo, what had been expected of her in her command role in the Grand Army of the Republic, and what she expected as a commander of the CSF. Excellence. She got what she expected, one way or another. Most of the time.
Phasma felt a chill of satisfaction run across her spine under her armor as Lord Vader escorted General Skywalker into the Emperor's throne room.
She expected the Rebellion to fall soon. She expected to be called in to remove the charred corpse of Luke Skywalker from the throne room once the boy's stubborn streak gave out. They all gave out eventually.
Or so she'd expected.
Phasma felt a chill of a different kind roll down her spine when the station's shields fell, and the Rebel fleet breached the perimeter.
She felt parts of her soul leave her body as, in quick succession, she was forced to order an evacuation as the Rebels breached the core, as their shots hit the mark, and the station became unstable, and as Luke Skywalker emerged from the throne room, battered and twitching, his black suit unbuttoned and askew, but still very much alive, with the form of Darth Vader slung on his shoulders. What was worse was that the throne room was empty.
To her astonishment, she found the Emperor's lightsaber still stored in the arm of his throne.
Skywalker slaughtered him before he could draw it… She thought as she felt a rage boiling beneath her armor. She clenched her jaw tight, and clipped the Emperor's golden saber to her belt.
“Final orders, full authorization, abandon the station!” She ordered as she stormed back to the hangar. “If you stay behind, it's your hide! Blast the Rebels to hell on your way out, report to your designated outposts and await further instructions. Long live the Empire.”
Phasma did her best to organize the evacuation through the chaos, but unlike her, many of the troopers on the Death Star II were prone to panic. Truth be told, she was barely holding herself together. She'd never expected anything to get this bad, as General Skywalker cleared himself and Lord Vader a path to the nearest shuttle, through throngs of her panicking men.
Phasma could barely make out what the two were clearly saying as Vader's distinctive processed voice sliced through even the cacophony of the hanger.
“Captain!” One of her troopers said, pointing to Skywalker as he hauled Lord Vader toward a shuttle. “Skywalker is taking Lord Vader prisoner.”
The idiotic words snapped her out of her confusion, and she bristled at the statement of the obvious.
“Should we stop him?” The trooper inquired.
The reality of what must have happened in the throne room whirled through her head once more.
Lord Vader and Skywalker… injured. Leaving. The Emperor nowhere to be found…
Skywalker beat him and Lord Vader. She reasoned in a panic. And he's confident enough to escape with Lord Vader in tow!
“If you wish to face death so soon,” Phasma said, drawing a pistol from her belt, “allow me to escort you to its embrace.”
She shot the trooper point-blank. The blaster bolt punched through his plasteel armor and burned his organs as she kicked him away.
Lord Vader had collapsed on the ramp up to a Lambda shuttle. Skywalker had removed his mask.
Phasma wasn't sure, but beneath the scarring and lack of hair on Vader's bare visage, she thought she might have seen a familiar face. Someone who was a frequent presence on Coruscant, but who, she could not say.
“Father,” Skywalker said, “I won't leave you.”
The words practically shattered Phasma’s mind as they left Skywalker's mouth.
Father? She wondered as the station rumbled beneath her feet.
“Prepare to depart.” She commanded her pilot as she stripped her helmet off, revealing close-cropped blonde hair, a tired face, and steel blue eyes as cold as the depths of space.
Phasma seated herself in the navigator's chair as the pilot prepared to depart, depositing her helmet on the floor beside her.
“Yes ma’am.” The trooper replied as the last of her men who could maintain their senses filed into the silver shuttle. It had been Sheev’s personal ship while he was alive. Now, it merely served to transport his loyal soldiers away from his eventual starry grave.
Phasma watched from the viewport as the Death Star II grew smaller and smaller, and then detonated. A single tear rolled down her face, but her mourning time was cut short as an X-Wing fell into pursuit. The craft had a blue Starbird inside a red star on each wing.
“Rogue Squadron.” She noted as it locked on. “I’d wager anything that's Antilles…” Traitor. “Take evasive action, and prepare the hyperdrive.”
“What's our destination?” The pilot inquired.
“Jakku.” Phasma replied as she typed in the coordinates. “The Emperor's orders were clear. In the event of his death, we are to look after the Prince and his family.”
The pilot dipped and wove through Antilles’ fire as the X-Wing continued pursuit. They bobbed, spun, and fired the engines at full burn to put any distance between them and their pursuer. They ducked through the remains of Vader's Super Star Destroyer, the Executor, dodging debris and blaster fire as they flew.
On the other side, they saw that Antilles was no longer on their trail.
“We can't have lost him that easily.” Phasma muttered.
“Look, ma'am!” Her pilot exclaimed, pointing to an X-Wing in the distance, flying nearby what had to have been Skywalker's commandeered shuttle.
“I knew it.” Phasma said in a disappointed whisper. “Take us to Jakku. There's nothing left for the Empire here. Everyone who doesn't follow us is fighting a losing battle.”
“Yes ma'am.” The pilot said as he flew the shuttle to a safe distance from Endor, and activated the ship's hyperdrive.
The stars grew long and appeared to whirl around the cockpit as the ship JUMPED into a swirling vortex of hyperspace.
Phasma and her crew sat in sullen silence the entire journey. The captain felt her seething anger building up inside her chest as she cursed the Rebels for blowing the station up, Skywalker for everything he'd done in his career with the Rebellion, but especially for whatever the blasted hell happened on the Death Star, and she cursed Tarkin, Dooku and Krennic for talking Sheev into building those stupid stations in the first place.
“Ma'am,” her pilot interjected, accidentally breaking Phasma out of her red hot seething train of thought, “we're arriving at Jakku.”
“Excellent.” She said as she yanked her helmet off the floor and donned it once again.
Jakku was a desert planet, not entirely unlike the vast many desert planets which littered the galaxy’s Outer Rim and Wild Space. If you'd seen Jakku, you'd seen Thune, Geonosis, Tatooine, Camson and Florrum, too. The only differences were the chemical make-up of the sand and what kind of lawless scoundrels you'd find there.
For most desert planets, anyway.
Phasma opened a secure channel to a secret location on the planet.
“This is Captain Phasma, First Stormtrooper Legion, aboard Imperial Shuttle Executive I,”
She spoke the words the weight of the planet. The Imperial soldiers on the planet below knew what her presence there meant. They'd remember what she said now forever. It wouldn't do to get her words in a twist.
“We have… Unfortunate news.” She continued as she transmitted her authorization code.
“Executive I, you're cleared for landing.” The controller on the surface responded. “Long live the Empire.”
The man's statement read less as a statement of intent than a forlorn hope in the face of what had surely happened.
“Long live the Empire.” She returned.
They landed in an otherwise unremarkable patch of anonymous sand in the rolling deserts of Jakku, near a magnificent rock formation the Old Republic had hollowed out from the inside. The building had been intended to be a senatorial outpost on the Outer Rim. After the Clone Wars, it had lost its original purpose. The Emperor had intended it to be a secret palace where he kept both objects and individuals he would rather not have the public be informed about.
A pair of doors in the formation slid open to reveal a hangar bay, where the shuttle landed, and Phasma and her men disembarked.
“Captain.” The base commander, an older man by the name of Hux said, saluting Phasma as she entered. She returned his salute, and he snapped to attention.
“Where is Prince Dathan?” Phasma demanded.
“In the medical bay.” Hux responded. “Miramir is in labor.”
Blast it all that our princess would be born on the day the Empire takes its greatest blow. Phasma cursed in her mind.
“Then I shan't trouble the prince and his wife more than The Force has surely already done.” She declared. “Fetch me after the birth.”
“Yes ma'am.” Hux replied.
“Make yourselves useful.” Phasma told her men. “Report to Hux for now. Find something to do. When Miramir is finished, I'll be in the training facilities.”
“Yes ma'am!” They replied in unison.
Phasma entered the training facility. It was abandoned. The hidden palace’s staff were all either caught up attending to the birth of the princess, or handling the great many tasks brought on by the defeat of the Empire at Endor.
No doubt the Rebels are celebrating at this moment. Phasma thought as she began to cast aside her stark white armor, starting with her gloves. How dare they?! This should be our celebration, blast it!
Phasma unhooked the Emperor's golden, curved-hilted lightsaber from her belt, and carefully placed it on the refresher sink, then cast aside her helmet angrily, and stripped herself down to the skintight black body suit she wore beneath the plasteel plates.
She stared herself in the eye in the locker room mirror until the echoed silence of the sterile chamber became too much for her.
In a fit of rage, she ripped off the top half of her body suit, leaving her in a breastband and the bottom half of the black garment. She felt for the pocket of the body suit, and found the durasteel cigar tubes and old-fashioned igniter she'd placed there at the beginning of her shift. With a sigh, she removed them, and placed them carefully next to Sheev’s lightsaber.
She didn't bother organizing her armor as she stormed out of the locker room, ripping the automatic door open in a fit of futile anger as she broke into a run to the nearest pull-up bar.
Phasma jumped several feet into the air and caught the bar with her bare hands. She pulled herself from fingertips to hips and back again a hundred times before she lost count. She worked herself until her grip faltered, whether due to fatigue in her hands or perspiration, she couldn't have said, slipped to the ground.
When she fell, she landed on her feet, and planted herself in a seated position beneath the bar as she waited for her hands to regain sensation. She gave them no more than a minute before she rose to her feet, and proceeded to activate a training droid, meant for hand-to-hand sparring.
She set the machine to maximum threat level, and proceeded to beat the grease out of it. When it stopped twitching, she pulled out another one, and repeated the process until her knuckles bled, again until the knees of her body suit were ruined, and again until her elbows ran black and amber with grease and oil, mixed with her own blood.
When she was finally too tired to continue, she collapsed in a heap by the fifth ruined droid. She didn't know how long she'd been at it. She didn't want to know.
Phasma crawled to the now empty mounting rack, and hauled herself to her feet with the machinery meant to charge the training droids she'd just demolished.
She cursed herself for not being stronger as she limped back to the locker room. In her youth, she'd have run to the finish line.
In her youth, there was nothing tomorrow couldn't fix. Now, in nearly her sixth decade, she knew she wouldn't be able to serve her Empire forever. Not how she used to. Service in two wars and countless battles across and between them in forty years had taken its toll on her body, even with the best medical care the Empire could offer.
Phasma managed to pull herself back to the refresher sink where she'd left the saber, cigars and igniter, and she caught a glimpse of her now dirty and bloodied form in the mirror. What there was of her hair was plastered to her head, and her entire body was soaked in sweat, machine oil, or grease.
The grime highlighted aspects of her body that were normally hidden by either her skin tone or her armor, and it became apparent to anyone who could see, that some scars just wouldn't heal.
And some I don't want to… Phasma thought as she traced her eyes and fingers down a series of jagged, lightning-like scars across the sides of her practically sculpted abdomen.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Ma'am.” Hux said. “Am I interrupting?”
“No.” Phasma said as she picked up her cigars and igniter. “Is she finished?”
“Very nearly.” Hux replied. “One of the men reported a series of loud crashes from the training facilities. The way he described it was as though you'd managed to pull one of the walls down on yourself.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” Phasma said as she walked stiffly to a bench outside of the locker room, and motioned for Hux to take a seat near her.
“Hardly.” Hux replied. “I'd much rather you deliver the news to Dathan than I.”
Phasma smiled wryly.
“The prince has never taken bad news as poorly as Lord Vader.” She said as she fiddled with the tubes of cigars.
Phasma noticed Hux’s inquisitive glance at them, and she could only laugh hoarsely.
“You know, I haven't had a smoke in twenty-three years.” She commented as she flipped the top open on one of the tubes. “Sheev insisted I quit.” She said as she bit the end off one of the rolled paper tubes. “I had my last cigar with him when we finally put down the CIS. Must've been through… hundreds during The Clone Wars. They took the edge off.”
Phasma flipped open the top of another tube, and offered one of the cigars to Hux, who took it.
“We were supposed to have another one when the Rebellion was put down.” Phasma said as she snapped the tubes shut, and flicked the igniter, lighting the tip of her cigar, and then Hux's in turn. She took a mighty drag, and pinched the tightly wrapped narcotic stick between her right index finger and thumb, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “However, given what's transpired…”
“The Empire's presence on Naboo isn't faring well.” Hux said as he puffed curiously on the cigar. “An old general, name of Binks, seems to have led an uprising in the wake of the Endor defeat.”
Phasma scoffed.
“He was always a clever one…” She commented. “Far cleverer than anyone would credit him for. How many have we lost on Endor?”
“Too soon to know for certain.” Hux replied as he coughed on the cigar smoke. “But it's not looking good. We have a twenty percent report rate from designated rendezvous points. Fifteen percent confirmed fatalities, leaving a remaining sixty five percent of our forces at Endor unaccounted for. They could be dead, they could have gone AWOL, or they could be prisoners of the Rebel Alliance.”
Phasma scoffed as she took another puff of her cigar.
“Skywalker took out two of us on his own.” She muttered.
“Only two?” Hux asked.
“He took Lord Vader prisoner, and killed the Emperor.” Phasma spat with a venom.
Hux stared at her in disbelief as she took a long drag off her cigar.
“...How?”
Phasma shook her head.
“I don't know.” She admitted. “All I know is that Skywalker entered the throne room in chains, and emerged carrying Lord Vader on his shoulders…”
She dragged her cigar again, and allowed the smoke to circulate before blowing it out.
“I suppose that isn't all I know.” She admitted once again. “During our evacuation, Skywalker stole a shuttle. Lord Vader collapsed on the way up the ramp. Skywalker took off his mask, and said ‘I won't leave you, father.’”
She turned to look at Hux, whose cigar had extinguished itself in his hands as his mouth hung open in astonishment.
“He called Lord Vader ‘Father?’” Hux reiterated in astonishment.
Phasma nodded.
“Do you recall Senator Amidala, of Naboo?” She inquired.
“Certainly.” Hux replied. “Youngest queen in election history, one of the youngest senators, to boot. Why?”
“She fell pregnant near the end of The Clone Wars if you’ll recall.”
Hux shook his head.
“Can’t say I do.” He admitted. “I didn’t have much contact with the senate at the end.”
“Well,” Phasma said smugly as she reached over to relight Hux’s cigar, which prompted the red-haired man to take another puff, “Myself and the other troopers, we had ourselves a bet on who the father was. She wasn’t married, that any of us knew. But, she had an old flame named Rush Clovis, and she spent an awful lot of time around a pair of Jedi Knights. Names of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker.”
“The negotiator and the fearless.” Hux added in between coughs.
“Come on,” Phasma said as she leaned back on the bench. “Don’t just let it burn you, drag a little slower.”
Hux did as she told him, and found he coughed less.
“We all but called it off when she died.” Phasma continued as her cigar smoldered in her fingers. “By all accounts, her children died with her. Then, nineteen years later, a chap by the name of Skywalker waltzes into the picture, and blows up Tarkin’s folly. Had to be a coincidence, hadn’t it?”
Hux shook his head.
“It couldn’t have been, could it?” He asked.
Phasma shook her head.
“I lost good money on that bet.” She said with a wry smile and a defeated laugh. “Had to be Anakin Skywalker’s son.”
“But if Lord Vader was his father…” Hux trailed off as the gears turned in his head.
“It might align.” Phasma replied. “Sheev said that Darth Vader was a Jedi Knight who’d become disillusioned with the order, and once the Jedi betrayed the Old Republic, he was one of the few to stand with the Senate, and defended the Emperor from their assassination attempts. The Jedi never took that kind of betrayal well. If Anakin Skywalker were to have been significantly injured in defense of the Emperor…”
“Then he might need the sort of suit Lord Vader wears.” Hux concluded. “Damn. You always were a clever girl.”
“Indeed.” Phasma said as she took another drag. “Father said it was my best feature. It was never my mother’s favorite trait.”
“Nonsense,” Hux responded with a chuckle. “Any parent would be glad to have you as a child!”
Phasma shook her head.
“My parents wanted me to move off and become a Holonet star.” She said as she tapped the ash off her cigar. “I couldn’t stand the thought. Standing around, looking pretty, not doing a damn thing with myself but promote products and recite trite dialogue for a simpering audience… It was a thought worse than death to me. I hoped the Jedi would take me away from that accursedly peaceful planet… But, even with one of the highest official Midi-chlorian counts on the planet, I showed absolutely no aptitude for The Force… So they just… Passed me by.”
Phasma placed her cigar between her teeth and reclined further, as far back as the bench would allow her, and took a long, long drag, then allowed the smoke to escape her lips and nose slowly. When she was finished, she removed the cigar, knocked the ash onto the floor, and scoffed.
“Truth be told, I was overjoyed when the Trade Federation invaded.” She admitted as she gazed down at the growing pile of ash at her feet. “Gave me some action, even if Anakin Skywalker had to come and ruin it all at once. Once that was done, the dominoes never stopped falling… But… Now it feels like we let them fall in the wrong direction.”
Phasma looked back up at Hux.
“You have a son, do you not?” She inquired.
Hux nodded.
“Armitage.” He replied. “Small lad now, but, in time, he’ll be a mighty weapon, and a damn good leader. He’s got the attitude for it.”
“Assuming there’s anything left to lead by then.” Phasma retorted softly as she drew the cigar back to her lips. “I’ve wondered for a long time what kind of galaxy we’ve been building for our children.” She looked Hux directly in the eyes, her steely gaze shocking him in its’ piercing nature. “For the first time in many years, I’m wondering if we’ve been grooming them for roles they cannot fill.”
“You’ve done as well as any of us.” Hux assured her. “The best any parent can hope to do is give their children the resources and the knowhow necessary to succeed. I’d like to think both of us have seen well to that.”
“Only because your wife is an understanding woman.” Phasma said with a chortle. “She has the patience of a saint to allow you to raise an illegitimate son as your heir.”
Hux shook his head at the reminder of his dalliances.
“Your son should count himself lucky he has a more normal name than ‘Phasma.’”
“Phasma” snorted out smoke in response.
“You think that’s my real name?” She asked rhetorically. “It was The Clone Wars, everyone had stupid nicknames. I just happen to like mine.”
“Oh?” Hux inquired.
“If you must know,” She replied, tapping the ash off her cigar once more. “My full name is Kelta Parnassos. My son was visiting our deployment one day. Wee little boy that he was, when I was explaining plasma cells to him, he couldn’t pronounce the words…” A smile crossed her face as she reminisced. “Called them ‘Phasma Shells’ and the other troopers had their name for me after that.” Phasma’s reverie faded as she glanced over at Hux again. “The thought occurs, mister Hux. We’ve known each other for decades, and I don’t believe I’ve ever asked your first name.”
“Brendol.” Brendol replied. “My name isn’t nearly as special. It’s an ancient word for ‘sword.’ My parents-”
“Mother!” A man’s voice called out from the entryway to the training facility. It belonged to a man in his early thirties…
He’s still the spitting image of his father at that age… Phasma thought as Dathan Palpatine charged into the facility, his fading red hair afire against the stark white and silver walls.
“Dathy,” She said, rising to her feet. “Who told you I was here?”
“Nevermind who,” Her son said dismissively, “I overheard someone mention a landing.” He took note of the cigar in her hand. “You know father wouldn’t want you killing yourself like this!”
Phasma nodded reluctantly, and snuffed out what remained of her cigar.
“I do…” She replied, almost choking on her words. “But he’s gone.”
Dathan nodded solemnly.
“I felt him leave us…” He whispered.
“Pardon me.” Hux said as he made to leave.
“Stay with us, what you're about to see will be an honor unlike any other.” Dathan commanded. “Come, mother. It’s no use keeping yourself away for my sake. You should see your granddaughter’s birth!”
Dathan took his mother’s hand, and motioned for Hux to follow the two of them.
“Not many can say they witnessed the birth of the Imperial Princess!” Dathan declared as they raced to the medical wing.
His wife, Miramir, was still pushing. Phasma felt the echoes of the pains of contractions she’d felt in her own womb when she gave birth to Dathan.
Little by little, the princess emerged from her mother. The nurse droid delivered the baby girl to her father’s arms, who in turn, presented her to her mother, and, in that moment, the weight of the defeat the Empire had suffered that night was lifted, if only for a moment.
Phasma brushed away a tear as her granddaughter let out a cry of unknowing mourning for the passing of her grandfather.
“She’s like a little ray of light in the darkness.” Phasma whispered to Dathan and Miramir.
“A little ray of light…” Miramir repeated softly. “Little Rey…”
“It would be a beautiful name.” Dathan agreed. “Rey Palpatine.”
'Til Undeath Do Us Part Chapter 4: Living Through History…
Jake Muller used to merely resent his father, but now he despised him with almost every fiber of his being.
Colonel Albert Wesker, or Doctor Albert Wesker, depending on how you’d known him, hadn't been present in his life for a long time, and Jake couldn't help but feel a little relieved that he'd been distant from the mad scientist in the aftermath of the things his father had done or contributed to.
However, distance from his father didn't buy him distance from his father's handiwork, much to his chagrin. Encounters with Umbrella Corporation Bioengineered-Organic Weapons, or BOWs, turned into an everyday occurrence for him.
Old man’s dead, and he’s still got the nerve to screw with my life. Jake thought as he stomped his boot through a zombie’s skull, shattering it into a pile of bone fragments and rotten brain matter. Or hell, maybe he’s not. Redfield said he came back before… Jake put an end to that thought as he heard a moaning sound from across the bridge he'd been hired to secure.
He called it “being hired,” for a fee of some nine mil hollow points, a gallon of water and a shower once everything was done, it was a far cry from his usual fees, but it was worth it, he figured. Jake wasn't exactly interested in paying the piper for the sins of his father, but if anyone was in a place to mop up Umbrella's ongoing mess, it was him. Had something to do with something his mother used to quote from an old comic maybe. Jake didn't really know, and he didn't care.
“Dying twice isn't enough for some bastards.” Jake muttered as a corpse roared, and pulled itself from the accumulated bodies. “Speaking of which…”
The zombie's skin had gone an awful shade of red, and the bones of its hands had grown into vicious claws as the creature snarled, and searched for him.
“Crimson head.” He muttered as he slung his shotgun to bear from his back. “Lovely.”
He fired his weapon, blowing half of the creature's head off as it noticed him, and slammed the butt of his shotgun into what remained, pulverizing the zombie before it could attempt to hinder him.
Should be everything. He thought as he surveyed his handiwork. Then again, I said that last time.
Jake marched up and down the bridge, dismembering and decapitating every corpse he could find, just to make sure, and pushed what he could to one side or another so there was a clear path.
Once he'd removed all doubts that he was done, he waved the caravan that'd hired him through, and they proceeded.
“Did a good job out there.” The caravan leader told him in a strongly accented voice. “You special forces?”
“You're not paying me to answer questions.” Jake said as he opened the boxes of bullets and counted them as quickly as he glanced at them, then shoved the boxes in the pockets of his cargo pants.
“Seems an awful small price for the work you did.” The leader commented.
“The appropriate response is ‘thank you.’” Jake commented as he checked the seal on the gallon bottle. “You got a shower in one of these things, right?” Jake gestured to the buses of the caravan as they passed by.
“Certainly.” The man replied. “Whatcha think caused this kinda buildup, just so we can see about avoiding it down the road?”
“Probably another busful of people trying to get away from the B.O.W.s” Jake replied in a clipped tone. “Someone drank some dirty water, or got bit by an infected animal or insect, and you can turn an entire group of healthy people into a horde of the living dead. Maybe even had a full on zombie bite or scratch that went bad.”
“What would you recommend if we find something like that?” The leader asked.
“If it's early on, you can save ‘em.” Jake replied. “Disinfect the wound, keep them elevated and monitor vitals. If it gets infected, you'll need some heavy duty meds to keep ‘em alive. If they get like these morons out here, put them in the ground, and if they turn red like that last one, unload until they're dead. Burn what remains if you can, smash it with hammers or shovels or bricks if you can't.”
Jake pointed down at the water.
“Boil anything you take from a river or other outdoor water source. You should generally, but especially when there's this much blood flowing into the water table.”
“Why you think they were grouped up around here?”
“They're attracted to sound.” Jake replied gruffly. “Some of them can't see, but they can hear and smell. Sense of smell can get a little funny when your nose is rotting, but a river makes a lot of noise whether you have ears, or just open holes in your head. The water brings the zombies, the zombies make noise, that attracts scavengers.” Jake said, pointing to a dead vulture by the river bank. “Some of the scavengers get killed by the zombies, that causes more noise, and the sounds and smells of fresh meat attracts more zombies. Where’s this convoy headed?”
“South,” the leader said. “Towards western Europe.”
“Long as you're all above board, you should be fine.” Jake said. “No illegal drugs or wanted felons in the pack, right?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“You should be fine.”
“Well, thanks for all your help and advice, mister?” The caravan leader extended a hand to Jake, who wasn't about to tell the man his name.
A soft buzzing sound came from the man's pocket, and he paused to answer his cellphone.
His brow furrowed, and he handed the phone to Jake.
“Says it's for a Jacob Muller.” The leader said in confusion.
Jake took the phone cautiously, and looked at the caller ID. It read ‘Unknown Caller.’”
“Who is this?” Jake demanded.
“Unimportant.” A robotic feminine voice said. “Doctor Nicolas Dunne, Leibniz Institute of Virology. He is former Umbrella. Investigate.”
The line disconnected, and Jake handed the phone back to the caravan leader.
“I think I'm gonna need that shower now.” He said as he grabbed a rag and wiped the butt of his shotgun clean. “Gonna have a journey ahead of me.”
“What's your destination?”
“Germany.”
“Hop on board, mister Muller, we'll take you as far as we can.”
Sherry rode her motorcycle up to the DSO’s special resource campus, the on-site housing for agents or research subjects that the department wanted to keep a close eye on.
“Morning Birkin.” The elderly man, an agent named Ned Anderson, greeted her. Ned was a Secret Service agent long past retirement who served as the complex’s superintendent as a means of keeping the man employed. Ned refused to retire, and the agency refused to put him in the field, so he watched the gates a good portion of the day, and buried his nose in a book for a good portion of that. His superiors didn't care, nobody got past the gate unless Ned looked up from his book.
“Morning Ned.” Sherry replied.
“Long night?” Ned asked, looking up at her, and pressing the button that allowed her entry.
Sherry giggled at the unintended entendre.
“You could say that.” She replied simply.
“Stay safe out there.” Ned said as he returned to his book.
She drove up to her single apartment, and parked her motorcycle in the driveway outside.
Sherry opened the door to her modest accommodations. Her entire apartment was the size of Leon’s bedroom, but that fact didn’t really bother her much. It was big enough for her, her clothes, a gun safe, a single twin bed, a kitchenette, shower, toilet, a small television atop a small bookcase, and said bookcase filled with well-kept, but well-read stories of derring-do, fairy tales of heroes fighting fierce monsters, standing up for what was right in the toughest of circumstances, and sometimes all of the above. The Wizard of Oz, The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood, The Once and Future King, the collected adventures of the Three Musketeers (& D'Artagnan!), collected Greek and Roman myths, Treasure Island, Moby Dick, Les Miserables, and assorted fantastical films of the like in various forms. Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, Excalibur, The Three Musketeers, The Man in the Iron Mask, Beauty and the Beast, Hercules, Pocahontas, The Lion King, The Rocketeer. It wasn't much, but it was hers, and it was cozy.
Sherry twirled happily across the apartment, and fell backwards onto her bed.
“Oh no, no way! I won't say ‘I’m in love!’” She sang to herself as she lifted Leon's ring on her chain up from her chest so she could look at it.
She wanted to shout the news from the rooftops, to tell the world about it… She almost regretted not talking Ned’s ear off on the way on, but only almost.
I've gotta tell someone, She thought with a happy, goofy smile on her face, or else I might explode. An idea popped into her head.
Claire!
She let Leon's ring drop back to her chest and pulled her phone from her pocket, and dialed Claire's number. There was no response, so she dialed her office phone.
“Devil May Cry, this is Claire Redgrave speakin’, what can I do for ya?”
“Claire!” She exclaimed.
“Sherry!” Claire exclaimed happily. “How you holdin’ up?”
“Oh, I'm doing wonderfully.” Sherry replied.
“Well that's good ta hear.” Claire replied. “Me an’ Dante were thinkin’ y'all were gonna be needin’ some backup of the supernatural variety. If he an’ the nephew hadn't been tied up, we'd probably have already been there.”
“We managed.” Sherry replied. Barely, but we did.
“Barely.” Claire said echoing Sherry's thoughts. “Damned shame to have things go as bad as they did.”
“Yeah…” Was all Sherry could say. Claire was right, of course, but that was small comfort. “How are Dante and Nero, anyway?”
“They're fine.” Claire replied cheerily. “Only fight every now and again, but I think the two of ‘em wanna try and set a good example for the twins and Forest. Nero's his daddy's boy alright, but he'll be a fine man soon enough. Might get there faster if he had himself someone to work with who wasn't family.”
Claire's trying to set me up with Nero, isn't she? Sherry thought in a panic.
“I'm sure he'll be fine.” Sherry replied coolly.
“He is.” Claire said, using a... Different meaning for Sherry's words than she'd intended. “He's also single if you're interested…” Claire said playfully.
“I’m sure he's all strawberries and peaches and cream,” Sherry said, fingering Leon's ring, “but I'm not really looking for anything like that.”
“You say that like you've already found what you're lookin’ for.” Claire replied with a giggle. “So, who is it?”
“It's someone you know.” Sherry replied coquetteishly.
“Who do I know who isn't already tied down?” Claire wondered. “Barry have a son I don't know about?”
“Nope.” Sherry replied.
“Hell, is it one of those agents you work with?” Claire asked. “Met so many people I up and forgot a bunch of names.”
“Yes, he is.” Sherry teased. “He's someone you met a while ago…”
“Someone I met a while ago who you work with… I'm drawin’ a blank.”
“He's the most handsome guy in the world.”
“No he's not, I'm married to the handsomest guy around.”
Sherry giggled.
“Well, you have yours and I have mine.” She replied.
“Gimme a hint, darlin', what am I missin’?”
“He's tall, great with his hands, he's a damn good cook, knows his way around a gun and a good joke…”
“...Not Leon?”
Sherry smirked and bit her lips.
“Oh my goodness.” Claire said in awe.
“We're getting married!” Sherry exclaimed.
“Congratulations!” Claire replied in a tone somewhere between amazement and puzzlement. “How? When? Why?”
“He asked this morning.” Sherry said. “I don't know when we're doing the wedding, but I just had to tell someone!”
“Alright! Well, congratulations again…” There was an uncomfortable silence over the phone. “You're not just doin’ it cus you're pregnant, are you?”
“No, no… Wouldn't mind if I was, though.” Sherry admitted, idly rubbing at her stomach. “When he said he wanted to have kids, it was music to my ears… It's really just… Wonderful, isn't it?”
“It can be.” Claire replied. “Then you find out you've got two of ‘em in ya and once the first one's done, you gotta go through the whole mess again.”
“How are the twins, anyway?” Sherry asked.
“Nearly grown, about to hit the road together, find themselves a spot to keep the family business goin’” Claire replied. “Couldn't stand the thought o’ not havin’ someone around the house, so…”
“How far along are you?”
“About seven months, comin’ up on eight.” Claire replied. “Feel like I could bust at any second. But it's nice havin’ Forest around to look after right now, I hardly ever get to see him these days.”
“How's Dante dealing with having his other nephew around?”
“Like havin’ the twins all in one redheaded bundle.” Claire replied. “Solved every puzzle we've found and took apart and put back together all of the twins’ old models. Once he'd stripped and cleaned those Samurai Edges, you remember the ones Chris got us for a wedding present, right?”
“The Berettas, right?”
“Those are the ones. Once Forest had ‘em put back together, we couldn't figure out anything else for him to do, so I put on a marathon of The Magic School Bus and then you called.”
“Sounds like a slice of fried normalcy.” Sherry replied. “If you told Leon, I think he might be jealous.”
“How's he doin’, anyway?”
“I think he's doing better than he was.” Sherry said. “I don't wanna put words in his mouth but… He said today he's the happiest he's ever been. Frankly, I'm just glad to be part of that.”
“Well, I'm happy both of y'all are happy, and I'm glad to hear y'all are fine.” Claire replied. “I haven't the foggiest idea what else to say, other than ‘congratulations,’ all over again. You two let me know if y'all need any help with that whole shindig, you hear?”
“We will.” Sherry replied. “I was kinda hoping you'd be my maid of honor.”
“Absolutely!” Claire exclaimed. “I was worried you'd never ask.”
“I guess that's it for now…” Sherry lamented. “I really just wanted to tell someone, and you were the first person I thought of!”
“I understand!” Claire said with a laugh. “Y'all take care alright? I love you both.”
“You, too.” Sherry said. “Tell Dante I said ‘hi!’”
“Will do, darlin'.” Claire said, and hung up the phone.
The outer door to the shop opened, and shortly after, Dante, AKA Anthony D. Redgrave, entered Claire's office.
“Who was that?” Dante asked.
“Sherry.” Claire replied. “I let Forrest watch Magic School Bus on my phone, so she called the shop.”
“Oh?” Dante asked.
“Wanted to talk about stuff.” Claire continued. “Apparently she's engaged.”
“To who?” Dante asked.
“Leon.”
“Huh.” Dante said flatly. “Never woulda seen that coming.”
“Found that out when I tried to set her up on a date with Nero.”
Dante's mouth opened, then shut. His wife shot him a puzzled expression.
“Nero has a girlfriend.” Dante replied.
“Who?” Claire asked, bewildered.
“Kyrie.”
Claire's bewilderment turned into an expression of raw confusion and mild revulsion.
“...But,” she sputtered, “I thought she was-”
“His sister, so did I.” Dante said, finishing his wife's sentence. “Apparently they're not related by blood.”
Claire rubbed her stomach, and shrugged in defeat.
“Guess it's a good thing she turned it down, then.” Was all Claire could conclude.
“If they get married,” Dante said with a smug grin, “Kyrie'll be his step-wife.”
Claire rolled her eyes, and chuckled involuntarily.
“You're the worst.”
“And that's why you love me, Claire-bear.” Dante said, planting a kiss on Claire's cheek.
“You're goddamn right.” She replied with a cheeky grin. “Step-wife is better than Stepford wife.”
Dante erupted with laughter of his own.
“There we go!”
Leon checked in through the security desk, and made his way through Secret Service Headquarters to the DSO office.
“How's the hangover, Kennedy?” Hunnigan asked him as he walked past her office.
“So good, they gotta come up with a new name for it.” He replied as she fell into step next to him. “‘Sling under’ or ‘climb up’ or something.”
“Those are the worst ones you've come up with yet.” Hunnigan said. “I'm impressed.”
“I'll workshop it.” Leon replied coolly.
Hunnigan looked him over as they walked together, and noticed a spring in Kennedy's step and a smile on his face that seemed… Atypical. He didn't usually show up with a hangover, but she'd seen him beat to hell a couple of times, which was close enough for government work, and he was never this upbeat afterwards. Not genuinely anyway.
“Wow, you're not even kidding, huh?” She asked.
“Why would I be?”
“Because I know you.” She replied sardonically. “That’s the kinda thing you say to get people off your case.”
“Benefits of having someone to keep an eye on you, I guess.” Leon said with a wry grin.
Ingrid rolled her eyes.
“Pops is worried about you.” Hunnigan continued.
“Yeah, I figured.” Leon replied. “Just one more thing on his plate.”
“How are you holding up?” She asked as they approached the elevator.
“Hunnigan, I'm fine! If I'm getting the third degree from both of you,” Leon said with a smirk, “I'm gonna be overcooked.”
“Whatever. Good luck.” Hunnigan said as Leon entered the elevator. Just beneath the collar of his shirt, she noticed a silver colored chain.
“What's that?” She asked.
Leon looked down, then back up at Hunnigan with a tiny smile on his face.
“A promise.” He said as he punched the button that would take him to the chief's office.
Ingrid Hunnigan's mouth dropped open, and her brow furrowed in confusion as the elevator doors closed.
“And just what the hell does that mean?” She asked nobody in particular as the elevator carried Leon up to her father's office.
Crenshaw’s office was at the top floor, near the office of the actual director of the Secret Service, but, given a number of recent scandals and resignations, Crenshaw was the most respected member of upper management in the agency, despite technically answering to the current director. Only time would tell if the former Vice President, now President of the United States, after Benford’s untimely demise, would take the requests to promote him to the top of the chain seriously, or if Crenshaw would even accept the position.
Leon walked up to the chief's office, which overlooked a good portion of Washington DC, including Capitol Hill, and knocked on the door.
Crenshaw had a cup of coffee in his left hand, and his right in his pants pocket. His suit jacket was hung upon the back of his chair, and the chief was looking out across the nation's capitol, surveying the ever retreating destruction as cleanup and construction crews repaired the historic buildings.
“You wanted to see me, chief?” Leon asked as Crenshaw turned to the door at the sound of his knock.
“Yeah, come on in, kid.” The chief said, beckoning Leon into the office. He stopped for a second, and laughed. “Sorry… You're not really a kid anymore, are you?”
Leon shrugged.
“Thirty-six,” he replied, “that's young on a cosmic scale, I guess.”
Crenshaw chuckled, and sipped at his coffee.
“Still younger than my oldest son,” Crenshaw replied, “coffee? It's not great, but it's coffee.”
Leon shook his head politely.
“Already had some not great coffee.” Leon replied.
“Understandable.” Crenshaw said as he turned back to observe the nation's ruined capitol.
“When I was a young man, younger even than you are now, I thought my life was boring. I wanted nothing more than some kind of purpose to existence. So, I joined the Marines, figured I'd see the world, fight the good fight. Find something interesting far away from home, try and make history, then come back and live whatever boring existence there was left. Desert Storm kicked off when I was trying to get out. Then Raccoon City happened, and ever since that, it feels like a whole lot of interesting stuff has been happening right here at home. The ancient Greeks used to wish that someone would live through ‘interesting times’ if they didn't like ‘em. If I could go back and slap my younger self for wishing I could make history, live an interesting life, among other things, I would.”
Crenshaw turned back to look at Leon.
“Lot of history’s been made out here the past few months, hasn't it?” He said, gesturing for Leon to take a seat. “The War of 1812 ain't got shit on this.” He said as Leon took a seat across the desk from the chief. Crenshaw sat his mug on his desk, and seated himself across from Leon. “You’ve made some history yourself. First man to kill a sitting president and not only go free, but get a medal for it.” Crenshaw's tone wasn't jovial.
Leon groaned.
“Yeah, I wish they wouldn't.” He replied. “He was-”
“Already dead when you pulled the trigger.” Crenshaw completed the sentence. “I know. Doesn't mean it was any easier to do.”
Leon set his jaw, and swallowed uncomfortably. Maybe I should've taken a cup of coffee.
“You've been through some shit, kid.” Crenshaw said in a calming, paternal tone. “Looking out there, at all the death and destruction, it's the kinda thing that makes you wonder if life really has a purpose. I came to the conclusion long ago that there's not really any inherent purpose to life… But that's-”
Leon shrugged as he considered what the chief said.
“Life can be a purpose all on its own.” Leon said, cutting Crenshaw off. “Keeping ourselves going even when the world feels like it's against us can be the best kind of purpose sometimes.”
“Interesting concept.” Crenshaw said, surprised at the response. “You've put some thought into it.”
“That thought got me through a lot.” Leon said. “Felt like I could endure a lifetime of pain if I could just keep going long enough to get through it.”
“There's an old saying,” Crenshaw said, “can't remember where it's from, but it goes something like this; ‘there are lifetimes where nothing happens, and years where lifetimes pass.’ I've heard it phrased a million ways over the years, but in my life, I feel like I've been through a couple centuries, and I haven't even been on the front lines for everything that's gone down. Gulf War, Raccoon City, 9/11, that shit in Spain, Africa, Benghazi, now this.”
Leon's face remained stoic.
“My dad told me a story about how he was sick one day in 1963, went to bed real early ‘cus he just couldn't stay awake. Woke up November twenty-third to find we had ourselves a new President without an election. Said he felt like a lifetime had passed while he was asleep, and he hadn't even seen it happen, much less been there. How many lifetimes you up to, kid?”
Leon shrugged, and a wry grin crossed his face.
“I think this cat's got a few more in him before he stops landing on his feet.”
Crenshaw shook his head.
“That's not what I meant. You've been closer to most of this shit than anyone else, the kinda shit that can put a man in an early grave, even before the Washington attack. I read your reports. Harper said you hesitated when Benford turned. Said you tried to reason with him. You didn't exactly leave that out of yours, but I'm of the opinion that the doctors who recommended you return to active duty after two weeks leave might be underestimating the kinda toll this shit takes on a man. As many zombies as you've seen in your time, I think you knew he wasn't savable.”
Leon's face grew blank as he thought back to that moment.
“I think I didn't want to believe it.” He said softly.
“Whatever you think,” Crenshaw said, “no matter what the damn papers say, you didn't have another choice. I would've done the same thing in your shoes, and so would every man and woman in the agency, or on this Earth. And it would fuck all of us up, but if we didn't do it, we'd be dead, and that doesn't help anybody. Level with me, kid. How you doin’?”
Leon shook his head.
“Better than I thought I'd be.” He replied. “I've had some help, admittedly.”
“I'm glad to hear it.” Crenshaw said. “I'm not sure I totally believe it, but it's good to hear a straight answer… What was going through your mind when he changed?”
Leon shrugged, and shook his head.
“I'm not sure.” He admitted. “I've been bit by those things more times than I can count, survived the infections that resulted with only a fever. I guess… I wasn't expecting him to actually turn. I thought I'd be able to buy him some time, help him somehow… And then…
Then he was right on top of me, about to bite my throat out, and I couldn't help but shoot him.”
“If you need anyone to talk to, I'm right here.” The chief said. “I can't say I'll go out drinking with you at the end of the day, but I've got a couple of ears, and despite what my ex-wife would say, I'm a good listener.”
Leon grinned at the chief's joke.
“Thanks, but I'm not planning on going drinking again for a while.” Leon said.
“Givin’ it up cold turkey?” Crenshaw asked.
“Kinda sorta… I just don't think it fits into my plans right now.”
“At least you've got a plan.” Crenshaw said as he rose from his desk again to gaze out the window. “Seems like this time last week, and the week before that, everybody was sure the world was gonna end. Everyone always wants to talk about the end times, but nobody knows what to do once the apocalypse is over. By my count we've been through eight or nine, you'd think we'd be better at handling them.”
“Kinda thing that makes you wonder what kind of cosmic deity we had to piss off to deserve such bad luck.” Leon said as he rose to join the chief in gazing out the window.
“Level with me, Kennedy.” Crenshaw said before downing the last of his coffee. “When do you want to come back to work? You can say today, and you're back. You can say you need some more time away, and you can have whatever you need, just as long as you come back alive. Hell, you could quit right now, and I'd help you get a job with the National Park Service if you wanted.”
Leon rubbed his neck, and his fingers lingered on the chain around it.
“Yeah, I think I'm looking to take some time off soon.” He replied. “Maybe go somewhere for a while.”
“Take it.” Crenshaw said as he set the empty cup on his desk. “I'm surprised you're still alive, much less that you haven't found a different line of work. Trying to put some distance between yourself and all this?” The chief gestured to the scene outside the window.
“My…” The words were difficult to say, and caught in his throat, but not because they were unpleasant. “My fiancé and I want to get married, sooner rather than later.”
Crenshaw's eyes grew wide as his eyebrows shot up to the top of his shaved head.
“Leon, my man!” He exclaimed as a grin grew across his face. “I didn't even know you were engaged! Who's the lucky guy?”
Leon's jaw fell open, and he began to make a series of incomprehensible noises in response as the chief's jubilation morphed into confusion.
“Uh, what?” Came his eventual response. “No, no. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but no.”
Crenshaw's brow furrowed.
“No bullshit?” He asked.
“No bullshit.”
“Huh.”
“Why did you -”
“People online say shit.”
Leon grinned and laughed.
“There's your problem,” he said jovially. “You forgot President Washington's rule, don't believe everything you read on the Internet.”
Crenshaw cracked up and slapped Leon on the shoulder.
“Alright, alright, I'm sorry.” He said earnestly. “So listen, you're not just jumping in on marrying a stripper cus we're coming out of the end times, right? Back in the Marines, we had ourselves a document on what kinda problems might come up.”
Leon shook his head.
“No, no way, chief.”
“And she's not some kind of foreign agent cozyin’ up to you for access?”
Leon shook his head again.
“No, she works for us, chief. No way in hell she's a security risk.”
Crenshaw raised an eyebrow.
“Now I'm interested.” He said, crossing his arms. “Who's the special gal who softened your stoney hide?”
“Agent Birkin, chief.”
Jonathan Crenshaw raised both eyebrows in surprise, this time a bit more calmly.
“…Of all the names I was expecting to hear, I'm not even sure that one was on my list…” He admitted as the gears turned in his head. “Well, congratulations. Tough nut to crack?”
A tiny smile tugged at Leon's cheek.
“I think she'd say I was, but she made a good argument.” He replied.
“Oh,” Crenshaw said, pursing his lips in surprise. “So she popped the question?”
Leon shrugged.
“Not really, but… When the moment's right, sometimes you just gotta ask.” He replied.
“Listen, if you need to know what not to do, I'm your man.” Crenshaw said. “A funeral and two ex-wives teaches a man some lessons he wishes his daddy would've taught him earlier.”
“I'll keep that in mind, chief.” Leon said with a good natured smirk. “Wish my old man was here to see all this…”
“Murdered when you were a boy, wasn't he?”
Leon nodded somberly.
“Him and my mom both.” Leon said.
Crenshaw began putting even more pieces together in his head.
“Guess orphans have to stick together, huh?” He asked rhetorically. “You, her, Redfield, his sister, her husband.”
“I hadn't even thought about it that way, but I guess so.” Leon replied. “One big orphaned extended family.” He reached back and knocked on the chief's mahogany desk. “Here's to no more orphans.”
“I'll drink some coffee to that if you want.” The chief said with a wry grin.
“Coffee's supposed to be roasted, not toasted.” Leon retorted with a grin.
Crenshaw poured a cup for himself and Leon.
“Look, it's too early for anything else, kid, and I ain't toastin’ to something with a cup of water.” The chief replied as he handed Leon his cup. “To good health and a happy marriage, Leon.”
Leon scoffed, but clinked his mug against Crenshaw's regardless.
“What the hell, why not?” He asked, then took a sip.
“It's coffee isn't it?” Crenshaw asked.
“I've had worse.” Leon replied.
Author's Notes:
Those of you who know me (Hi Kevin and Ben!) will probably be saying "Alex inserted a bunch of his favorite stuff into Sherry's library!"
Which is true, but given my extensive knowledge of books and movies, I'd be hard pressed to put something on her bookshelf that I didn't know or like. You should see what I DIDN'T put in there lol.
Additionally, Crenshaw's mistake is referencing an actual essay someone actually wrote where they asserted, with basically zero actual supporting evidence, that Leon was gay in Resident Evil 4. I can't remember who wrote the essay, but it was a trip, especially since that game ends with him getting shot down by Hunnigan. Too bad for hew, she snoozed and she lost.
Claire's characterization is heavily inspired by Rogue from X-Men The Animated Series from the 90s.
'Til Undeath Do Us Part: A Resident Evil Story (Chapter 3)
Author's Note:
The role of DSO Chief Johnathan Crenshaw will be played by Terry Crews in the theater of your mind.
245 Murray Lane, Building T-5, Washington D.C. Secret Service Headquarters, office of the Division of Security Operations…
"Ingrid!" Chief Johnathan Crenshaw called out to Ingrid Hunnigan as he entered her office. Crenshaw was a tall, African American man with dark skin and a shaved bald head. He kept his facial hair trimmed in a tight goatee, and he had the kind of gaze that looked like it could pop a balloon from fifty yards if he was angry. "You get a lead on Kennedy?"
"I tagged his associates from the BSAA in on the search," Hunnigan replied, "He was at his home, forgot to charge his cell after Birkin hauled his ass back from Jack's."
"You tell him he needs to get a landline?" Crenshaw asked.
"Loud and clear, sir." Hunnigan confirmed. "Redfield put me on speaker phone."
"Good." Crenshaw replied. "Kid's too old to be sneakin' off without a sober buddy, last thing we need is one of our best guys gettin' himself sent to lockup for disorderly conduct."
Crenshaw crossed his arms in an indignant huff, and turned as though to leave… But stopped, and rested one arm against the door frame to Hunnigan's office as he left the other drop to his side.
The righteous indignation the chief had previously displayed faded into an air of concern.
"Ingrid, I know you two don't hang out, but…" Crenshaw paused, and sighed. "He doesn't usually do this kinda thing, does he?"
"Vanish without a trace?" Hunnigan asked.
The Chief nodded in reply.
"Like you said, I'm not exactly spending time with him outside work hours, but he doesn't usually go out of contact like that, even when he's off-duty" Hunnigan continued, "I haven't established a pattern of behavior to confirm though, you'd have to ask his friends or family about that to be sure."
"That's the problem," Crenshaw said as he turned to face Hunnigan, "I wouldn't even know where to start. Not these days, anyhow. Seems like more than half the people I'd ask or have someone else ask are dead. He doesn't seem to keep friends in the agency, and the people he's worked with for the longest inside it are Harper and you, and Harper's only known him for a fraction of the time you have. I could ask those pals of his in the BSAA, but they're thicker than thieves, and I can't guarantee they'd give me a straight answer even if they knew. All I know is that he's never had a whole lot of anyone, and that pool got a hell of a lot smaller not too long ago. I've been to too many funerals for good friends who either drank or used themselves into an early grave, or put a bullet between their eyes because they thought they were all alone just to ignore a change like this and pray it goes away. Kennedy has always been reliable, and always makes himself known when he's able. So that's why I'm asking you. You've been his handler for years, tell me if you think something's wrong with my boy."
"Yeah, I think there might be, when you put it like that." Hunnigan said. "You read his report, he had to kill the closest thing he's had to a father figure since his dad died. That's not something you just get over. Combined with all his other potentially… Probably traumatic experiences…" Hunnigan trailed off as she shrugged her shoulders. "I've always felt like something was a little bit… Off about him."
"Thank you, Ingrid." Crenshaw said as he reached across her desk to shake her hand. "Sometimes I feel like I'm just being paranoid… But I've gotta follow my instincts, too."
"I don't think there's any shame in being paranoid in our line of work, chief." Hunnigan replied. "The anxiety sucks, but it can keep you alive."
"It can also worry you into an early grave." Crenshaw said as he turned away, and made to leave once more. "Thanks again Ingrid."
"Yeah, don't mention it, pops." She said quietly.
As Chris and Jill left, Leon and Sherry's stomachs growled with hunger almost in unison. The fact that neither of them had eaten since the previous day's lunch snuck up on them quickly.
"You want some breakfast?" He asked.
"I'd love some." Sherry replied.
They went back upstairs to the kitchen and dining area, and Leon started looking through his cupboards as Sherry leaned against the table.
"Coffee?" He asked as he pulled an enormous can of the stuff out of the cabinet. From what she could see, his cabinets were as well-organized as the walls of the kitchen, where he had numerous culinary tools either hung on the walls or displayed for ease of access. It's just that some things required a little shuffling to get to.
"Sure." Sherry replied.
Leon turned the can over in his hand, and looked at the bottom.
"What?" Sherry asked.
"This is the coffee Barry bought for Chris's bachelor party." Leon said, showing Sherry the bottom of the can. "It's two years out of date."
"You must not drink a lot of coffee then, huh?" Sherry asked.
Leon shook his head.
"Not enough to check when it expired, I guess." Leon said. "So much for coffee, all we've got is has-beans."
Sherry snorted with laughter at Leon's pun, and he couldn't help but notice the way her nose crinkled up in delight. The sight warmed his heart as he walked towards the trash can.
"I'm sure they're fine." Sherry said with a giggle. "Expired coffee wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."
"You sure?" Leon asked. "If you want, we could just buy some coffee."
"I'm sure!" Sherry replied, standing up and taking the giant coffee can from her fiancé. "Besides, I want to see how you cook your breakfast, and my clothes aren't done yet."
"Alright, what are you hungry for?"
Sherry shrugged.
"Whatever you usually make is fine." She said as she rocked the can side to side against her body. "I'm not picky, I just want to see what you make. You start the meal, I'll start the coffee, deal?"
"Deal." Leon replied as he opened the fridge and removed a carton of eggs. "It's not really anything special. Ground beef with turmeric sauteed in olive oil with chopped mushrooms and onions, then two beaten eggs, spinach, cumin powder and red pepper."
"Spicy breakfast." Sherry commented as she read the instructions on the coffee, and the coffee maker, then served accordingly. Just like mine…
"I cook the beef first to get it most of the way to crisp, then again when I mix it with the eggs." Leon said as he started the stove, retrieved a bag of spinach from the fridge, a bowl from one of the cupboards, cracked four eggs into it, whisked them together, added the spices and spinach leaves, then put the bowl and spinach back in the fridge as he retrieved a container of ground beef that had a yellowed color to it, presumably from the spices. "Then I mask the taste with the spices. Otherwise it…" Leon trailed off as he opened the container, and portioned it out into the pan.
"Tastes like death," Sherry finished, "and all of a sudden, you're right back there with everything you want to forget about."
Leon looked up as he grabbed a bottle of olive oil from the cabinet above the stove, and froze as he locked eyes with Sherry.
"Yeah." He said softly.
Leon drizzled olive oil into the pan, returned the bottle to its spot, and unhooked a cutting board from the wall, and placed it on the countertop.
"I can chop the mushrooms." Sherry offered as she moved to wash her hands at the sink.
"Uh, yeah." Leon replied with an upwards twitch at the sides of his mouth. "I like them in bigger square chunks, it soaks up the olive oil and the spices, turns it into a… Flavor bomb."
"Sounds delicious." Sherry said as she dried her hands and sidled around Leon to open the fridge.
Inside, she saw a neatly organized series of square containers. There were several cartons of eggs, arranged in order of date, a few containers of roast beef mixed with various spices, and labeled accordingly, small boxes of mushrooms, other boxes with pre-chopped onions, and a bag of fresh onions in one of the bottom drawers, and bags of fresh spinach in the other. There were also containers with a few blocks of cheese, all of which had shred marks on the sides.
"Very well organized." Sherry commented as she retrieved the ingredients.
"Saves me time." Leon said with a shrug. "If you don't have to look for something when you've got time, you don't have to look for it in a hurry either. It's always right there where you need it."
"Do you eat anything else?" Sherry asked as she dumped a container of mushrooms out on the cutting board and began to dice them according to Leon's instructions.
"I have chicken in the freezer." Leon said as he used a spatula to stir the beef in the pan. "Otherwise… Yeah. There's a couple of flavors of protein powder in the cupboards if you want some."
"So that's how you got so strong." Sherry said as she dumped the mushrooms into the pan with the beef and olive oil, where they sizzled deliciously. Sherry set the cutting board off to the side and groped at her fiancé's rippling biceps as Leon fumbled with the container of onions.
"Stop it!" He said with a chuckle. "I'm trying to cook."
Sherry draped her arms around Leon's neck and kissed his cheek.
"Good thing we're not using your arms for heat," She cooed into his ear, "with guns this hot, it would've already burned."
Leon snorted as he popped the top off the container and dumped the onions in with the mushrooms and ground beef.
"I'm gonna burn one of us by accident at this rate." He said as he mixed the onions in.
The coffee machine made an obnoxiously cheerful noise to indicate it was finished brewing. Sherry reluctantly peeled herself away from Leon to find them some mugs.
"I think I've got some mugs in the corner." He said, pointing to a corner cabinet above the coffee machine.
Sherry stood up on her tip-toes and pulled open the door, where she grabbed two mugs at random. One, she noticed after she'd pulled it down, had the logo of the Raccoon City Police Department on it. Three letters, RPD in bold on a navy blue mug. The other was almost the polar opposite in its' design. A deep, seductive scarlet with a neon-pink logo in a suggestive font that read-
"'Love Planet?'" Sherry read out questioningly as Leon retrieved the mixed eggs from the fridge and poured them in with the meat.
"Oh yeah," Leon said with a laugh as he mixed the eggs into the beef, onions, and mushrooms. "That's a strip club down in Louisiana, where we had Chris's bachelor party. Since Chris doesn't drink anymore, Barry bought that big tub of coffee and we did shots of that all day. We went to a shooting range down there and Dante let us use some of the weird stuff he's picked up over the years, the stuff he kept anyway. After that, we went to Love Planet on Bourbon Street, which we rented out for the party. Chris really didn't want to go, he was worried about what Jill would think if he went to see strippers the day before the wedding."
"And how'd that work out?" Sherry asked as she sat down at Leon's small table and sipped at the coffee. It had some flavor left to it. She wasn't sure if it had any caffeine left. Maybe I should've let him toss it.
"Well, we compromised, and only got him one." Leon said with a sly grin as he poked at the not-quite omelet. "Barry's brought his Wii, we've got that set up in one of the private rooms while the girl gets ready, we're playing Mario Kart and taking shots of coffee. Everything's ready to go, we pause the game, go out to the main stage, Dante leans over to Chris and tells him 'Don't tell Claire, but we got you the prettiest girl in the world for this night,' and before Chris can finish rolling his eyes, the club starts playing Nickelback on the PA and out from the curtains struts the future Mrs. Redfield, Jill Valentine herself, decked out in her old S.T.A.R.S. uniform. The look on Chris's face made me wish I had a camera!"
Sherry's jaw dropped.
"How the hell did that happen?" She asked.
Leon stifled a laugh as he flipped the egg mixture in the pan.
"Do you want any cheese?" He asked.
"Cheddar?"
"Sure."
Leon retrieved the cheese from the fridge and a grater from the wall, and shredded some orange cheddar onto the eggs.
"So, about six months before the wedding," Leon said as he returned the cheese to the fridge and placed the grater in the sink, "Barry and his wife Kathy are planning it because Chris doesn't know anything about organizing a wedding." Leon left the fact that his friend and his sister were orphans out, because Sherry already knew that. "Her mother, Atsuko, she's helping out, but her dad is really involved. Rick Valentine considers Chris the son he never had, so he's off with me and the guys, making sure we've got tuxedos, tracking down a tailor that'll fit one to Chris's shoulders, suggesting ideas for the bachelor party, he doesn't want to miss a damn thing, and when Dante tossed out the idea of taking Chris to a strip club, Rick was all over the concept, said it was family tradition, his father took him, his grandfather took his dad, but Rick, who insisted we call him that instead of Richard, had five daughters before he and Atsuko gave up on a son. Now Chris doesn't want to do it, so at first we dropped the concept, but Dante told Claire, Claire told Jill, and Jill came up with that idea. She took six months of pole-dancing lessons so we could prank Chris. Now imagine, we've tried to keep her father away from this. Richard Valentine, last of the gentleman thieves, professional deceiver and spy, he thinks we've just got a really pretty girl for his future son-in-law, and will not be anywhere else but next to Chris in that moment."
Sherry could already see that disaster was on the way as she held back her laughter through mediocre sips of coffee.
"Right before the music hit," Leon continued, "he leans over and tells Chris, in the Frenchest way possible 'It is not adulterous to take a bite with the eye, mon garçon, you are not sleeping with the girl, non?"
Sherry burst out laughing as Leon folded the omelet over once more, then pulled a plate out of one of the cupboards and flipped the pan over onto it, plating their breakfast perfectly.
"She comes out and his jaw drops, he's more shocked than Chris is. His daughter, the bride-to-be, master of unlocking, is up on the stage, swinging on the pole, dancing to 'Something in Your Mouth.' He couldn't have been more aghast at a sight." Leon said as he retrieved two forks and knives from a drawer, and another plate from the cupboard. "So I called for a waiter, and ordered him a bowl of alphabet soup."
"Why?" Sherry asked as Leon cut the omelet in half and pushed half onto another plate.
"That's what he asked, once he reattached his jaw." Leon said as he sat down next to Sherry at the table, and handed her the silverware.
Sherry cut herself a slice, and bit into it. Her mouth shuddered as the flavors exploded in her mouth exactly the way Leon had described.
"So I said 'Because if you want grandchildren, you'll have to eat those words!'"
Sherry almost choked on a piece of roast beef crumble as she snorted with laughter.
"What'd he say to that?" She asked after clearing her throat.
"Well, first he hauled off and slapped me." Leon said with a grin. "Then, he got over it, started laughing like a maniac, and pulled me into a big bearhug and apologized. I've never seen someone who's normally so dignified in that kind of state without alcohol involved."
Leon sipped his coffee.
"Wow, this is…" He searched for the proper words. "Coffee."
"It's kinda weak, yeah." Sherry admitted.
"You want a protein shake instead?" Leon asked.
"Sure, whatcha got?" Sherry inquired as Leon rose to meet her request."
"Chocolate, peanut butter, strawberry, banana, pineapple," He listed off.
"Pineapple sounds nice." Sherry selected. "So what happened next?"
"Well, Jill stayed mostly in uniform for the first half of the set." Leon said as he retrieved a pair of shaker cups with blender balls inside, opened the tub and served them a scoop apiece. "Then, at the end of the second verse, she tosses her beret onto Chris's head and starts peeling everything off. Underneath her uniform, she's wearing an RPD bikini from some charity event the department did before my time. She finishes her routine, jumps off the stage, shoves her tongue down Chris's throat, and hauls him off to one of the private dance rooms." Leon added water and shook up the cups. "Rick gets his bowl of alphabet soup, and we go back to playing Mario Kart and doing shots of coffee. Before Jill's routine, Rick was competing, but after that, he fucking dominated us, and that was when we found out that he went into eSports after he retired from the CIA."
"You're kidding me." Sherry said, flabbergasted as she took another bite.
Leon set the cups down in front of their plates.
"I wish I was," He said with a grin as he sat back down, "Then I wouldn't have to admit to getting my ass kicked by a sixty year old man at Mario Kart."
"This is delicious, by the way." Sherry interjected.
"Thanks." Leon said as he cut a piece for himself. "I always have to wonder if anyone else would like this stuff, or if it's just to my taste."
"You could've been a chef." Sherry suggested as she picked up her cup. "Probably could still be one."
"You think so?" Leon asked.
"Absolutely." Sherry replied. "If you can figure this out, you can probably figure out anything."
"Maybe one day when I get bored and try something new." Leon said as he raised his own cup.
"So what happened after that?" Sherry asked, then took a sip of the pineapple protein shake.
That's pretty good. She thought. Not exactly as pineapple-y as I thought it might be, but still good.
"After that, we didn't see Chris and Jill until the next day." Leon replied. "Barry, Dante, Rick and I stayed up playing Mario Kart until after midnight, and considering Forest was born nine months to the day after the bachelor party, I think I know what Chris and Jill were doing all night."
Sherry giggled, trying to picture, between the fiery French girl and the enormous Texan which of them would have been leading, so to speak.
"You know…" Sherry began, gazing vacantly at her unfinished food as the mention of the Redfield's son caused her thoughts drifted from the concepts of what they were discussing to its' products, "I wasn't ever sure if I'd ever want children… It seemed like a big commitment, and after the Golgotha parasite, I had no idea how it would make me feel or if I could do it… Mentally, I mean…" Her gaze drifted up to meet Leon's eyes. "Until you said those words earlier…" She smiled warmly at Leon. "It was like hearing the most beautiful music when you said that you wanted kids…"
"I hadn't even really thought about that," Leon said sheepishly, "it's just… One of those normal things people do."
"Yeah." Sherry said with a smile. "It is."
Leon was about to say something else when the washer/dryer made another obnoxiously cheerful noise from the laundry room.
"Clothes are done…" He whispered.
"Guess we ought to finish up so we can get our vehicles before they're towed." Sherry said somberly.
"Yeah…" Was all Leon could say.
The two of them finished eating, and Sherry pulled off the clothes she'd borrowed from Leon, who pretended to be momentarily interested in his microwave clock.
"Leon, you don't have to look away!" Sherry called out to him from the laundry room.
"I want to be surprised by how you look fully dressed." Leon said as he sipped at his shake. "If I watch you put it all on, I might just want to see you take it all off again."
"That's fair." Sherry admitted as she finished dressing herself. "Well, what do you think?" She asked as she walked back into the dining room, dressed in a white button-down shirt and dark grey tactical pants. Not the most provocative of outfits, but Leon couldn't care less.
"I think I want you to take it all off again." Leon said with a wry grin.
"Well, I'm afraid that's gonna have to wait, mister." Sherry said in a mockingly matronly fashion. "I'm not paying the impound fees on that bike, and you're not paying them for that big van of yours, either." Sherry said, tapping Leon on the nose. She locked her arm in Leon's, and the two of them retrieved their cellphones from the bedside table, then marched downstairs.
"Should I call us another cab?" Leon asked.
Sherry shook her head.
"I don't think so." She replied. "I quite fancy taking a nice long walk with my future husband."
Leon smiled, and kissed Sherry on top of her head.
"I like it when you say things like that." He said as he retrieved his keys from the table, and they left the house.
"I like to say things like that." Sherry replied with a smile of her own.
"So how were you guys not wired to the gills at the wedding?" Sherry asked as they walked alongside the road in the direction of the bar.
"We were." Leon replied. "We didn't get to sleep until after midnight, we had to get up at five AM, I think that was the worst hangover I've ever had, and I hadn't even drank a single drop of alcohol."
"So it just looked like regular old nerves I guess?" Sherry asked.
"It must've, I don't remember anyone saying anything." Leon said, trying to recall the details.
"I remember one of Barry's daughters saying Chris looked like he was going to explode, but I figured that was just because he's Chris." Sherry commented. "It's funny, all the little stories behind the things you experience that you wouldn't even think about. You know why that wedding is burned in my memory?"
"Why?" Leon asked.
"Because that was the first time I saw you, really saw you since Raccoon City." Sherry said. "Twelve years since we escaped Raccoon City. Do you remember the dance after the ceremony?" Sherry asked.
"Yeah." He said. "Hard to forget that. You kissed me."
"Yeah I did. That wasn't your first kiss, was it?"
Leon laughed.
"No, no it wasn't."
"It wasn't mine, either, but it was the most important." Sherry said, hugging herself tight to Leon's strapping arm. "I wasn't sure when I'd see you again… That dance we had made up my mind. 'Nobody but him,' I thought."
"Didn't the DJ play 'Lips of an Angel' during that dance?" Leon wondered aloud.
"Yes he did."
"Isn't that a song about adultery?"
"Yes it is." Sherry replied with a laugh. "He also played 'Every Breath You Take,' which is a song about a stalker."
"We should sit down and make like an anti-playlist for whoever we get to DJ." Leon said.
"Maybe we could put an ejector seat in the booth so if they play anything on the list, they go flying like Team Rocket." Sherry suggested as she mimed the action with her free hand.
"There you go." Leon said with a laugh.
They walked together in the general direction of Jack Stiles', towards DuPont Circle, until they passed a jewelry store, and Leon paused at the front window, his eyes locked on a display of rings in between sets of bracelets and necklaces displayed on voluptuous mannequins.
"Leon?" Sherry asked.
"Uh huh." He said without looking at her, his eyes flowing across the display, trying to figure out which of the many jewel-encrusted golden adornments would look best on Sherry's hand.
"Baby," She said as she placed her hand on his cheek and turned his head to face her, "No."
"What?" Leon asked innocently.
"I can see the gears turning in your head, don't even think about it." Sherry said as she tapped Leon on the nose. "I don't need you to get me an engagement ring."
"Come on, let's at least take a look." Leon said as he led her into the store.
"Fiiiine." Sherry lamented as he pulled her gently into the store. "But I don't want you spending a bunch of money on some pretty little bauble, okay?"
"Alright, alright." Leon relented.
"Welcome!" The jeweler greeted them. "What can I do for you this fine morning?"
"We'd like to look at wedding rings." Leon said.
Sherry started, and turned to look at Leon in surprise.
"What?" He asked. "You said you didn't want an engagement ring."
"I walked right into that just letting you take me in here." Sherry muttered into his ear.
"Well, congratulations!" The jeweler said, clapping his hands softly. "It seems you're not the only ones, after those… Unfortunate incidents, a lot of people are looking to tie the knot, so I'm afraid a good portion of our inventory is spoken for, but I'm sure we can find something for you and the lady."
"Lot of people jumping into marriage after disasters?" Leon asked.
"There always seems to be." The jeweler replied. "Lots of money to be made when people think the world is ending, in every industry. So, what tickles your fancy? A nice diamond ring?"
"No," Sherry said. The jeweler blinked in confusion, but regained his composure.
"Maybe a nice sapphire, or blue spinel to match the lady's gorgeous eyes?" The jeweler suggested.
Sherry turned to Leon once more.
"I don't want any rocks in my ring." She said firmly.
"It'll look nice." Leon replied.
"For a while, and then it'll get loose and fall out, or the ring will get damaged, or bent, and then it's just an expensive bunch of nothing. If we have to have it, it might as well be practical." Sherry said. "Do you have anything tough? Something thick, that can take a hit. Like if he punches someone, it'll leave a big mark on them?"
The color drained from the jeweler's face as he realized Sherry wasn't going to be talked into a fancy, expensive ring.
"Uh, well, we have a few rings like that." He said as he led them to a well-lit table. "Allow me to take your measurements."
They sat down and the jeweler sized their left ring fingers with measuring tape, then disappeared into the back, and reappeared with a pair of velvet-lined display trays, each with a selection of boring, practical rings, and placed them in front of Sherry and Leon.
"We have titanium, tungsten, stainless steel…" The jeweler said quietly. "I'm sure I could special order some in depleted Uranium if the lady so desires." He said sardonically.
"I think these will do." Sherry replied. "What do you think?"
Leon glanced across the tray of dozen or so rings… And he realized that really, any of them would do.
"I think I want you to pick mine." He said.
"Only if you pick mine." Sherry replied with a grin.
"Deal." Leon switched the two trays, and started looking, until a silver ring with a stripe down the middle caught his eye. He picked it out, and held it up to the light. It was an interesting design, and about as complex as he was probably going to talk Sherry into.
"Ah, that's a titanium ring." The jeweler said. "Quite sturdy."
"Got it." Sherry said, holding up a thick, plain silver band.
"You two think very much alike." The jeweler said as he fitted a loupe, and took the two rings to examine them. "Oh dear." He said as he examined the ring that was to be Leon's.
"Something wrong?" Sherry asked.
"This one is quite scratched, I can't possibly sell it to you in this condition." The jeweler said.
"In my line of work, it's gonna get scratched like a vinyl record at a hip-hop gig." Leon said. "Knock a few bucks off the price, I'm sure it'll be fine."
The jeweler stifled a grumble, but acquiesced to their request, noting a discount on a tag, then returning the other rings to the back, and returned with their selected rings in velvet-lined snap boxes. He placed the discount tag in the lip of Leon's box, and placed the two rings in a glossy black paper bag.
"Is there anything else I can do for you this fine morning?" The jeweler asked in a tone halfway between pleading for them to spend more money and pleading for them to leave.
Leon was about to say "No, thanks," but Sherry crossed her arms, and screwed up her lips in thought.
"You got an idea?" He asked.
"Maybe." She replied. "Do you have any titanium chains?"
"We do." The jeweler replied. "Of varying sizes and lengths."
"What's your idea?" Leon asked.
"I get one, you get one, and each of us wears the other's ring on it." She said simply. "That way, we have something with us of each other's, and when we exchange rings at our wedding, we can take off the chains and put the rings we've been wearing on each other's fingers. Nothing gets wasted, and we get to wear the rings before the wedding."
Leon hugged Sherry by the shoulder and planted another kiss on her cheek.
"That's so sweet." He said softly. "Let's do that."
After a brief sizing and style choice, Leon and Sherry had everything picked out, and it was time to pay.
"Two orders, please." Sherry said.
"Sherry, I can get it." Leon said.
"Fine." She said with a cheeky smile. "You can pay for mine if I can pay for yours."
"Isn't that… Mostly the same?" He asked. "Splitting the bill and neither of us are Dutch."
"Birkin is a German name," Sherry said as they paid. "Germany is Deutschland in German."
"Hang on," Leon said as he threaded his ring through Sherry's chain and clipped it around her neck, and she followed suit, "You're German, I'm Italian, Jill is French/Japanese, Chris is American and Barry's family comes from England…"
"There was a cartoon about that, it's called Axis Powers Hetalia." Sherry said with a chuckle.
"Goodbye!" The jeweler said as he ushered the couple out of the store.
"Take care." Leon said as he and Sherry left for the bar.
Leon's Porsche and Sherry's Ducati were still out front, unmolested by parking tickets or restrictions.
"Stroke of good luck?" Sherry wondered.
"I think they probably had bigger things to deal with than some overnight parking." Leon said as he unlocked his driver's side door. "Or they looked up who owned them and gave us a pass."
"I will not bow-"
Leon's phone buzzed to life in his pocket, and a muffled, tinny recording of Breaking Benjamin began to play. Leon pulled the device from his pocket, and saw that-
"Chief Crenshaw is calling me." He said aloud as Sherry straddled her motorcycle. "Yeah chief?"
"Kennedy, I'd like to see you at the office when you get a chance. I know you're off, I just want to discuss something with you."
"Yeah, I'll see you in a few minutes?"
"Sounds like a plan." The chief said. "Safe driving."
"Copy that." Leon said, then hung up the phone. "Chief wants to talk about something."
"He say what?" Sherry asked.
"Nope."
"Well, I guess I'll see you at the range later?" Sherry suggested. "Then we can swing by my place."
"Sounds like a date." Leon said as he walked over to Sherry, and kissed her goodbye. "Love you."
"Love you, babe." She said as she cranked up her motorcycle, and pulled away.
Leon hopped into his Porsche, pushed his key into the ignition and turned it. The engine roared to life, and the radio was soon to follow. It was stuck on the station he'd left it on the previous night, midway through playing "You Shook Me All Night Long" by AC/DC.
Hell yeah, she did. Leon thought as he pulled away from Jack's, and drove to 245 Murray Lane.
Author's Note:
I'm loving Requiem so far.
Fun facts:
I have been informed that Leon has apparently never directly worked for the Secret Service, even though in Resident Evil 4 he's all but described as being a Secret Service agent, and in both 4 and 6 is doing things a Secret Service agent would logically be tasked with doing, sans a degree of backup. It kinda feels like a Secret Service thing when the President's daughter is kidnapped, for instance. So, as a result of my faulty memory/Capcom's less than stellar in-game documentation of what its characters do, the DSO is now a division of The United States Secret Service, headquartered within the Secret Service offices in Washington D.C.
The idea of Crenshaw being Hunnigan's dad popped into mind while I was writing the last paragraph of their segment. At some point, I wrote him as calling her "Ingrid" instead of Hunnigan and I was wondering why he'd do that, or if I should go back and change things. Then I figured that, since a lot of law enforcement officers in both fiction and real life have an ex wife or two, it would make a degree of sense for her to have her mother's name, or maybe a stepfather's name after a divorce.
Johnathan Crenshaw is a name I conjured from the ether. "Crenshaw" stuck in my head and he was originally going to be "Jack" until, a few seconds later, I remembered Jack Krauser exists, and came up with another J name.
I wanted to base Crenshaw's mannerisms on Raymond Holt as portrayed by Andre Braugher in Brooklyn Nine-Nine, and then I remembered Andre Braugher was in City of Angels, so I pivoted to a different member of the 99, Terry Crews, pushed through the lens of Leland Stottlemeyer from Monk, if, instead of dealing with OCD detectives, he dealt with wise-cracking action heroes.
Jill's mom doesn't have a name or many details available, just that she's Japanese, and some form of secret operative from what I can find, so her name is taken from Jill's Japanese voice-actress from Resident Evil REmake onwards.
Jill's dad's name is sourced from S.D. Perry's The Umbrella Conspiracy, but with some additional details taken from other materials where his name is left unknown, and I thought that calling her dad "Dick" throughout the story would seem a bit odd, so Dick gets de-abbreviated to Richard, and then re-abbreviated to Rick.
The fun thing about being a Resident Evil fan is how many different things you have to dig into just to sink your teeth into the characters.
The strip club is an actual location in Devil May Cry 3, Dante can even pole-dance there.
The way Leon arranges his house is inspired by the attaché case system from Resident Evil 4. I've probably spent a combined dozens of hours just fiddling with the inventory in that game, so I figured, like with the puzzle statue for the front door key, I'd take some inspiration from the games.
Leon's diet is heavily inspired by that of my own and some professional body builders I know, since I figured someone as bulked up as Leon who's Italian-American would probably have chicken and beef in his diet somewhere. No garlic? Not at the moment, I have a taste for spices myself, but you burn yourself out using a single one too much, so I figure Leon's had his fill of Dracula's least favorite spice for now and found a recipe for curried beef online or something.
I considered Bottom's Up and Burn it to the Ground as choices for Jill's pole-dancing scene, but I figured that might be an inappropriate choice of music for a scene involving a recovering alcoholic, so Something in Your Mouth seemed... Not more appropriate, but definitely like it was pushing slightly fewer boundaries.
The usage of I Will Not Bow by Breaking Benjamin dates back to the very first trailer I saw for Resident Evil 6, which was an edit someone did of the official trailer synced to the song, and I must not be the only one who associates the song with the game because of that video, because I keep seeing Resident Evil edits featuring that song to this day, it's like Linkin Park and Dragon Ball Z, just a weird combo that's stuck with the fandom forever.
Otherwise... Thanks for reading both the story and this rambling paragraph of insights.
Sherry traced her fingers across Leon’s chest, resting only briefly on his scars as she nuzzled her head into his neck. She took a deep breath, and caught a whiff of his scent.
“You smell like whiskey and cucumbers.” Sherry giggled into his neck.
“We should market a cologne.” Leon quipped with a wry grin. “But I feel like you’re telling me I need to shower and brush my teeth.”
“I think we both ought to.” Sherry admitted. The couple had lost themselves in the moment, and in each other’s company, until the waning hours of the night, and fallen into the depths of intimate slumber without a thought for bathing.
“Are you inviting yourself into my shower?” Leon asked as he sat up in bed.
“Well, I don't know how your bathroom works, so obviously I'd need someone to show me.” Sherry said as she sat up next to Leon.
“Well,” Leon said as he pulled the sheets away from his body and swung his feet to the floor, “since we don't have any NASA engineers around, I guess that's my job.”
“Is it really that complicated?” Sherry asked as she followed suit.
“It's like launching a rocket just to get the shower running.” Leon replied, leading the way into the bathroom.
“Then I'm glad I know someone who's good with his hands.” Sherry said as she tailed him into the bathroom. “Machines, medicine, even music… I didn't know you played the guitar.”
Leon shook his head bashfully as they entered the large, white tiled bathroom. In one far corner was a large glass-enclosed shower with a rain head high above, various side jets, a bench built into one of the walls, and the most complicated control panel Sherry had ever seen outside of an actual airplane. In the other corner was a soaking tub, large enough for at least three people, and in the near corners were a sink and a fancy Japanese toilet as well.
“I really don't.” Leon admitted as he slid the shower door open. “That was my father's guitar, my mother got it for him as a wedding gift. He could play the Beatles, Johnny Cash, the Stones, Bob Dylan, anyone you could think of, really. I only know one song.”
“I'd like to hear you play it if that's alright.” She whispered softly. “I'm sure it sounds wonderful.”
Leon got lost in her eyes for a moment as his heart threatened to explode from his chest. He smiled, just as he turned the wrong knob, and blasted them both with cold, soapy water, causing him and Sherry to yelp in surprise and nearly slip on the floor as the water passed over their bodies onto the nonslip tiles below. Still, even the best of modern technology can only do much in the face of a surprise loss of balance in an environment suddenly slick with body wash. Sherry lost her footing, and stumbled as her bare feet slid out from under her.
Sherry felt Leon's strong arms clasp around her body under her arms as she fell forward. Her face mashed involuntarily against his rippling pectoral muscles as he pulled her back to solid footing.
“You alright?” Leon asked as he reached one hand over to adjust the shower controls. The cold jets of foam were replaced by a warm stream of water from the rain head.
“Yeah.” Sherry said as her heart pounded away in her throat. “Thank you.”
“Don't mention it.” He replied as Sherry looped her arms around his neck and pulled herself up to kiss him again, then allowed herself to fall back to flat footing as she gazed into Leon's big beautiful blue eyes.
“So…” She began, hesitantly. “When do you want ‘forever’ to start?”
A puzzled look crossed Leon's face.
“Right now.” He replied. “As soon as we can.”
“No, I meant like… Officially.” Sherry replied with a smile. “You, me… ‘Mister and Missus Special Agent Kennedy.’”
Leon gazed into Sherry's baby blue eyes, contemplating the question. Eventually, the question washed from his mind as the shower washed the soap, sweat and grime of the previous day and night's experiences away from their bodies, still pressed closely together in the warm rainfall of the shower head.
Sherry felt her feet grow cold even in the warm shower as Leon failed to answer, and broke hid gaze. I shouldn't be doing this to him… She thought.
“We're moving too fast, aren't we?” She whispered morosely. “It's too early-”
“No.” Leon declared, cutting her off as he guided her towards the bench, and pulled her gaze up to his with two fingers of his left hand as his right remained wrapped around her.
He slowly set her down on the stone-tiled bench, and he kneeled in front of her, with her left hand clasped in both of his.
“Sherry,” he said, the words catching in his throat even as the steam forced its way into his lungs, soothing the vocal chords he'd run ragged with heavy breathing and shouted raw over the course of their encounters with Neo-Umbrella, “I don't think I've ever felt as happy with anyone else as I am with you right now… Or… Even generally. When I woke up, I couldn’t hardly believe I hadn’t been dreaming. Whatever challenges we face in life, I'd like to face them with you. And, one day, whenever that might be, I want to take a break from this ‘world saving’ thing and settle down, even if it's just for a little while. Raise a couple of kids, get a dog, maybe a cat, and live something close to a regular life for a while. So… Whenever you want to, let's do it. I don't want to miss anything else if I can help it... Like you said, it's just been one thing after another, and I want to stop and appreciate what life has to offer, for as long as I can while I’ve got it. I… I don't have a ring with me…” Leon admitted with a goofy grin.
“I'd hope not, dressed like that. Sherry said, poking him in his bare chest.
Leon's smile grew wider.
“Sherry Birkin,” he said softly, “would you do me the honor of marrying me?”
It was Sherry's turn to blush as she pulled him tightly against her into a hug that threatened to push them both into the thick clear glass behind them with a joyous squeal.
“Leon Scott Kennedy, “ Sherry replied as she eased him back just enough to meet his question with her answer face to face, “I've already said it, but ‘yes!’ Yes, yes, a thousand times yes! I'll be yours if you'll be mine.”
“Then I'm yours… and you're mine.” Leon said as he leaned in to kiss his newly-minted fiancé. They lost themselves in the water, in the kiss, in each other once again.
Jill Redfield awoke to the ringing of her cellular phone. The BSAA was still on-call for cleanup support after the attack in DC, but she and Chris had managed to steal away some precious hours of sleep while other agents had things under control. DC was a mess, but it was getting put back together better than she'd expected, given how shortly ago the damage had been dealt.
Her cellphone rang once more, and she groaned as her husband stirred beside her.
“Who is it?” Chris asked as he pushed himself up in the bed and reached for his phone on his side of the bed.
“Non, Chris,” Jill said as she reached for her own device, “they're calling me.”
“Wake me if it's something serious.” Chris said as he pulled a pillow over his head.
“Oui.” She replied as she blinked her eyes, and peered at a number she didn't recognize. “Allô?”
“Jill,” it was Ingrid Hunnigan, Leon's handler, “did you see where Sherry or Leon went last night?”
Come on… Jill thought as she sat up in the bed, pushing the pillow askew on Chris's face in the process. The big Texan sighed as the realization that he wasn’t going to get any more rest sank in.
“Non,” Jill replied. “Sherry asked Chris where Leon had gone to, and said she was going to look for him. Did you call them?”
“That was the first thing I tried, we got nothing. Harper found his car parked out front of the Jack Stiles bar near Dupont, looks like Sherry left her motorcycle here, too.”
“What's happening?” Chris asked as he pulled the pillow the rest of the way off his face.
“Leon left his car at Jack Stiles last night,” Jill relayed as she placed Helena on speakerphone.
“You and Captain Redfield are the closest,” Hunnigan said, “think you two could swing by his place?”
“Yeah, might as well.” Chris said loudly as he tossed the covers off of him. “He probably went off to have a few shots by himself and drank too much. I'll bet you Sherry got him a cab or something. No way she's balancing a drunk Leon on the back of that bike.”
“When you find them, tell them the chief is wondering where the hell they are.” Hunnigan replied.
“I thought they were supposed to be off active duty for the time being.” Jill said as she set her phone back on the night stand, swung out of bed and began to dress.
“Lost too many agents in the attack to not have a check-in with available units.” Hunnigan replied. “DSO and Secret Service are stretched thin with decontaminating the White House and guarding the cabinet. We just need to know that they didn't stumble into a pocket of ghouls or something else the cleanup crews missed.”
“Like that would bother Leon.” Chris replied with a smirk. “We're on it, tell their boss to hold his horses.”
“Au revoir.” Jill said as she hung up. She pulled her utility pants on, zipped, buttoned and cinched her belt tight against her rippling abdomen, and grabbed herself a blue T-shirt, but paused when she noticed her husband's bravado had faded.
“Something bothering you, cheri?” Jill asked as she pulled her shirt on.
“I’m just hopin’ I'm right about them bein’ fine. If they disappeared and somethin’ happened to ‘em, that's my fault.” Chris muttered as he pulled on a green T-shirt. “If I hadn't jumped into a bottle, he wouldn't have snuck off on his own. Betcha anything he wanted to keep the booze away from me. We could've had a couple of shots like the old days and put the damn thing away until next time…”
“No, mon amour,” Jill said, “I'm sure he's fine. He's probably sleeping off a hangover and forgot to charge his phone. He and petit Sherry can take care of themselves, I don't want you to beat yourself up about this, le bien?”
Chris raised a hand with his index and middle fingers wrapped around each other.
“Alright, hon, I got my fingers crossed.” Chris said, then dropped his hand as he knelt to retrieve his pants and gunbelt.
Leon and Sherry bathed, dried themselves, brushed their teeth, and, after briefly failing to find something in Leon's closet that Sherry could reasonably wear, and Leon had dressed in another of many sets of practically identical clothing he kept in the drawers and closet that comprised his wardrobe, Sherry gathered and sorted both of their rumpled, alcohol soiled clothing for cleaning in Leon's washing machine as Leon gathered their soaked bedclothes for a later load.
“Your phone is dead, by the way.” Sherry said as she passed Leon his smartphone.
“Oh, lovely.” He said as he took the device. “Can’t wait to find out how many spam calls I missed.” Leon retrieved the charging cable from his nightstand and plugged the device in. It beeped at him unhappily as the charging status flashed on the screen at 0%.
“Mine ran down, too.” Sherry said as she donned a pair of Leon's gym shorts and a spare T-shirt for momentary coverage as Leon returned to stripping the bed. “Do you have a spare charger?”
“Yeah, I think I've got an old one in here somewhere.” He said as he opened the drawer on his nightstand and pulled out a power block, then searched for a USB cable that would fit Sherry's phone. After a couple of tries, he plugged her phone it and set it next to his, then yanked the top sheet away, and tossed it into the nearby hamper.
Leon started as he spotted a small amount of blood on the bottom sheet where Sherry had slept.
“Sherry, I-” He stammered as he tried to recount the events of the previous night through his whiskey-soaked memory. “I didn’t… Hurt you, last night, did I?”
“No, why?” Sherry called to him from the laundry room as she set the washing machine to run. She walked through the gym area to the bedroom, and found Leon staring at the bloodstained sheets with a grave expression.
“Not any more than it's supposed to, I guess.” Sherry said, touching Leon on his shoulder, and then his cheek, snapping him out of his horrified fantasy. “I told you I wasn't going to settle down with just anyone… If it helps, you're very gentle for being so strong.”
Leon breathed a long sigh of relief, pulled the bottom sheets off the bed, and tossed them into the hamper.
“I felt like a real scumbag for a second there.” Leon said. “Now I just wish I remembered it clearly.”
“We’ll have plenty of time to make more memories.”
“Yeah, it just… Feels like something a guy should remember.
I just deflowered the man every girl in DC except for Hunnigan wants to rock their world. She thought blearily.
“Is it really that hard to believe?” He asked as he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “You said it yourself, I’m all work.”
Sherry giggled, and kissed Leon for… She’d lost count how many times she’d kissed him in the last day.
“I just figured, with you being the most handsome man on the planet, someone else would’ve tried to take a swing for you.” She said as she drummed her fingers across his chest. “Guess I was wrong.” She said with mock disappointment.
“Sorry to disappoint.” Leon replied as he blushed from her flattery.
“Well,” Sherry said, crossing her arms behind her back and swaying her shoulders from side to side, “if you want to make it up to me, you could always play me your song.”
“...Yeah.”
The two went downstairs while their laundry washed and dried. Leon pulled up chairs for himself and Sherry in a corner next to the instrument.
Leon picked the old guitar up off its stand, pulled a pick from the clip on top, and plucked at each of the six strings in turn. He adjusted the tuning slightly, and began to strum in time with the tapping of his foot.
“I heard this song in a movie, back…” Leon struggled to find the words even as he played the chords. “Back in ninety-eight.” He said finally. “Not long before I transferred down to Raccoon City. I can't really play anything else, but when I get frustrated, or feel all alone, or… Just want to remember something halfway normal, I pick up Dad's old guitar, and I play this.”
“I think I've heard it before,” Sherry said as she tried to follow the melody, “That’s… ‘I Want You to Know Who I Am,’ right?”
Leon smiled as he continued to strum.
“Close.” He said. “That's part of the chorus. It's actually called ‘Iris.’ From a movie called City of Angels, about an angel who falls in love with a human, and comes down to Earth to be with her…”
“I kinda remember it.” Sherry admitted. “My parents were never keen on… Fantasy. They were all about what they could do and what they could see… But I always liked my fairytales. Doesn't the movie have a really sad ending?”
“It does…” Leon said. “But it's more… Bittersweet, than depressing. It's all about how you need to appreciate life for what it is, and how even when things go bad, you just gotta keep living. Because, even in the darkest of times, life's worth fighting for.” He laughed, and smiled as he locked eyes with Sherry. “Sometimes it takes a little more than a song to remind me of that…”
He paused, and restarted the melody at the verse.
Chris and Jill emerged from their BSAA Humvee in front of Leon's house. The upstairs lights where Chris knew the laundry room to be were still on.
“If anyone came back last night, they haven't left.” Chris commented. “Looks like the lights are still on upstairs. Leon never forgets to cut ‘em when he leaves.”
“You have a key?” Jill asked.
“Not on me, but I know where he keeps it.” Chris said as he walked up the front path to Leon's house with Jill close behind.
Jill knocked on the door as Chris upturned a “Made in Heaven” branded angel statue.
“Don't bother, if anyone's in there, they can't hear ya.” Chris said as he twiddled the statue's arms, bent the wings, and twisted the base to unlock a secret compartment with the door key inside. “Leon had the place built with bulletproof insulation. Kevlar insulated doors, extreme flame retardance in the walls, it's practically soundproof.”
“Eeh,” Jill said, shaking her head. “If we were in any other line of work, I'd say ‘e was paranoid.”
Chris unlocked the front door, and the sound of two voices singing in harmony, accompanied by an acoustic guitar echoed through the ground floor workshop. It was a man and a woman singing the chorus of “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls.
Leon and Sherry paused mid-song when the Redfields entered the house.
“Chris!” Leon said as he stood up from his seat, and replaced the old guitar on its’ stand next to him.
Chris noted that Leon was dressed the same way he always was these days. Black slacks and a navy-blue dress shirt. What interested him was more how Sherry was dressed, in one of Leon's black Dri-Fit exercise shirts and Under Armour gym shorts.
“Hunnigan asked us to check in on you.” Chris said as he crossed his arms in mock irritation. “Told us neither of y'all checked in last night.”
Leon and Sherry exchanged a guilty look.
“Both of us forgot to charge our phones.” Sherry replied. “Sorry.”
“I know y'all can take care of yourselves, but you had some people worried about you.” Chris said.
“‘Some people ‘ being him.” Jill added.
“Not just me, darlin’.” Chris replied. “I don't think you're in any trouble, but Hunnigan told us the chief wants to know where you are, there's too many bad things goin’ on lately for you two to go missing.”
Leon sighed, and shook his head.
“That's my fault.” He admitted.
“Don't feel like you gotta sneak off for a drink on my account.” Chris said as he pulled out his phone and dialed Hunnigan. “Just tell us next time.”
“This is Ingrid Hunnigan.” Hunnigan’s voice said over speakerphone.
“I found your missing agents, they're singing karaoke in Leon's workshop.” Chris said with a scoff. “You can call off the search party, it was just a case of too much alcohol and not pluggin’ in their damn phones.”
“Noted, with… Some information omitted.” Hunnigan replied. “Tell Leon he should think about getting a landline installed.”
“Tell him yourself.” Chris said, holding the phone out at Leon.
“Leon, get yourself a damn landline!” Hunnigan said loudly.
“Alright, I heard you the first time.” Leon replied. “Thanks for the concern, I guess.”
“Don't mention it.” Hunnigan replied coldly. “See you at the office.”
“I suppose our work here is finished.” Jill said. “Jā ne, koibito-tachi!”
Chris and Jill closed the door behind them as they left, and Chris shot his wife a sidelong glance as he replaced the key in the statue's puzzle box, and reset the device.
“You think they're…” Chris let the implication hang in the air as he stood up.
His wife crossed her arms below her chest and smiled suggestively as she leaned against the door they’d just exited.
“Like us, last night.” Jill stated emphatically.
Chris frowned approvingly.
“Good for them.”
Author's Note:
Several things in this chapter have been carried over from my The Last of Us/Resident Evil crossover story, The Last of Us: Operation Raccoon City, in which Raccoon City is in Texas, and Joel, Sarah and Tommy have the gold fortune of being rescued by S.T.A.R.S. as opposed to F.E.D.R.A. Chris Redfield's southern accent is one thing carried directly from the text of what I published of that story. What's also carried over is Jill Valentine having a French accent, and peppering her dialogue with French and Japanese words, and her eventually marrying Chris. Fun fact, Jill Valentine is Franco-Japanese, not that Capcom has ever used those details in a game. Not to spoil too much for a story I might still publish, but if you want the gist of my idea with Chris and Jill, the incident with Chris's team would take place shortly after Resident Evil 5, and Jill and Leon, with a little help from Barry and Claire (the four of them being his closest living friends and sister), drag Chris kicking and screaming back to sobriety before the events of Resident Evil 6, and once he's back in the saddle, Chris decides to take securing the future of the Redfield bloodline into his own hands instead of trying to bully Leon into doing it. So, in New Orleans, during the events of Resident Evil 6 and the early stages of this story, Claire Redfield and her longtime boyfriend Dante from the Devil May Cry series are looking after a baby Forest Richard Redfield, named after Chris's dead best friend from Bravo Team and Jill's dad, respectively.
And yes, I AM basing Claire's relationship with Dante off the fact that the two of them went on one date. Frankly, the scene where I introduced this concept was why I stopped working on TLOU:ORC, but in hindsight, it's funny enough as a concept that I'm probably just going to roll with it. Plus, I'm no longer worried about bastardizing The Last of Us or Devil May Cry, because Naughty Dog, HBO and Netflix have ruined those shows worse than I ever could.
Additional fun facts: Jill Valentine is my favorite Resident Evil girl, and it's a massive coincidence that I've studied both Japanese for fun and French for work, so I suppose that helps me at least try to get the dialogue to match up.
Translator's note: Boy howdy is it difficult to translate "Bye love birds!" Into Japanese and have it stay punchy and subtle. I wound up translating it as "See ya, lovers!" Instead.
The movie Leon is talking about is one of my favorites, shamelessly, a 1998 film starring Nicholas Cage and Meg Ryan. You have no idea how happy I was when I saw that it came out prior to the Raccoon City incident, meaning I didn't have to bend spacetime for it to make sense.
The guitar originally didn't serve much purpose, it was just set dressing, meant to be a reference to The Last of Us, but as I thought on the concepts, I realized it would work its way into this story perfectly.
Is Leon being a virgin realistic? Hell, I don't know. I just know that he turned down Ashley in RE4, got shot down by Hunnigan, and has never sealed the deal with Ada, and with his workaholic personality, combined with holding a torch for a girl who was never gonna settle down, I think it's a distinct possibility.
What else? The bar is named after Bruce Campbell's character from the show Jack of All Trades, an underrated classic. The puzzle statue is a reference to the numerous key puzzles in the games, and shares branding with Chris and Claire's jackets in RE2, I modeled Leon's shower on a shower I've used in real life, Leon's house was mildly inspired by Michael Weston's loft from Burn Notice, and I think that's it for fun facts and notes. Also, my copy of Requiem came in the afternoon after I published the first chapter lmao. Funny how this stuff works.
'Til Undeath Do Us Part... A Resident Evil story (Chapter 1)
The fight is over, the world is saved, again, until the next time it's in danger.
Sherry Birkin wants to talk to Leon Scott Kennedy, but he's disappeared right when she's worked up the courage to tell him what she really wants...
A little peace, love, and happiness.
Yes, this is Leon/Sherry. No, I'm not apologizing. The memes must flow.
A soundtrack of sorts can be found at the following link:
https://music.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLjYaviIYZiNsPfOfUrLa43hjgNc0DdQjq&si=INvwm2A4dKaXOxS0
Chapter 1:
Washington D.C., not long after the events of Resident Evil 6…
Sherry Birkin had a mission. For her, that wasn’t entirely unusual, she was always on some kind of assignment these days.
However, this time, the mission parameters were of her own making.
The world had been saved, thanks in no small part to the actions of herself, the former members of S.T.A.R.S., BSAA agent Piers Nivans, Secret Service Agent Helena Harper, a woman nobody knew the true name of, but referred to as Ada Wong, Jake Muller, the son of Albert Wesker, and a man named Leon Scott Kennedy, former RCPD, current Secret Service and DSO agent.
Who was, to Sherry’s bewilderment, nowhere to be found at the exact moment she desired to speak with him.
After the paperwork was all filed, the debriefings finished and wounds had begun to heal, it seemed like Leon vanished almost immediately, as though he didn't want to talk to her
She’d only been in brief contact with Leon over the years between the fall of Raccoon City and now… Now, they had a moment of peace, when she might be able to work up the courage to say what she’d wanted to say to him for a while now, he was missing.
Not missing like someone had made him disappear, that was almost too much to hope for. No, missing as in, “parked his pitch black Porsche Cayenne in front of a bar without so much as positioning his license plates where she couldn’t read them,” missing.
Please, please don’t be up to what I think you are, Leon. She thought as she parked her motorcycle in front of the bar.
“ID?” The doorman asked as she approached.
Sherry was twenty-seven years old, but thanks to her father’s experiments, she looked to be about nineteen to most people.
Sherry pulled her badge and ID from her pocket, and the doorman took a quick look, then waved her into the sluggish bar.
Once inside the establishment, Sherry sighed as she saw that Leon had taken up a seat at a table by himself, with a round bottle of whiskey and a stack of shot glasses, one of which was already full, in front of him.
“Leon, what are you doing?” She demanded.
“Getting drunk.” He replied.
“Why?” She asked.
“Well, Chris made it look like so much fun, I figured I'd give it a shot.” Leon said as he knocked back his already poured shot of whiskey.
Sherry crossed her arms in disapproval.
“Right, and if Chris Redfield jumped off a bridge, would you jump, too?”
Leon paused halfway into refilling his glass to shoot Sherry a look that said “Really?”
Sherry rolled her eyes and sat down across from Leon at the table.
“Alright, stupid question,” she admitted, “but I've got a better one. You and Jill spend all that time getting Chris off the booze and cigarettes, and now here you are jumping headfirst into the hole you just helped him out of. All you're missing is a gold Zippo and a pack of Marlboro Reds. Why?”
Leon scoffed, but paused as he began to raise the shot glass once more.
“I hadn't given it a lot of thought.” He admitted as he set the shot glass down. “But that's the problem, I guess. I never gave things much thought, I always had some kind of distance between myself and everyone who died. Lives are always on the line, but I can handle my life being at risk… I think. Eventually, I got so used to being bit, to the rest of us surviving all this bullshit that I… Forgot that not everybody does. Adam Benford got infected… And he turned faster than I've ever seen a man go. One moment he was the man I knew, and then next he was a zombie. He didn't have a chance to fight it, no time for me to find an antidote… I couldn't believe my eyes, and then I had to shoot him. Then, I started thinking about it. How everywhere I've been, I just have the worst fucking luck, and how I always wind up having to kill my way out of a situation just to survive.”
Leon set the shot glass down and stared into the whiskey as though it were a mirror into his soul.
“From my first day on the job until now, everyone I met has either been marked for death, or destined to suffer like me.”
“When you put it like that…” Sherry said as she snatched the shot glass from across the table, “I don't think either of us have had much good luck.” Sherry swallowed the shot with a mild grimace.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Leon demanded as he tried to pull the bottle out of Sherry's reach, but the blonde girl snatched that too away from his grasp.
“I'm twenty-seven, Leon.” Sherry said with a smirk. “I've been old enough to drink for a while.”
“...Right.” Leon said. “Still doesn't mean-”
“If you can drown your sorrows in a bottle, I can join you.” Sherry said as she poured a shot for herself in Leon’s old glass, then flipped a glass from the stack over for Leon, and poured him a shot as well, then slid it across the table.
“Every time you take a shot, I'm going to take one, too.” Sherry declared. “Fair enough, right?”
Leon looked down at the glass, then back up at Sherry, and shook his head.
“Fine.” He relented. “I'm not your father, I can't tell you what to do.”
“Yeah, thank god.” Sherry muttered.
Leon winced as he realized the sore spot he'd just touched on… One as big as the monstrosity William Birkin had become, when Leon and Claire had to put the Umbrella scientist down to keep Sherry safe.
“Don't beat yourself up for saying that…” Sherry said, cutting into Leon's dark reminiscence. “Somehow I doubt he would've been that great of an influence. Imagine me growing up to be a mad scientist just like him and mom… Probably would've tried to experiment on my kids, my husband, anyone I got my hands on.” Just like they did… She left unsaid.
“Husband?” Leon muttered involuntarily, so low he thought it was inaudible.
“Whoever that would be…” Sherry said with a laugh. “Imagine finding another set of goods as damaged as me, huh? Someone with a sick sense of humor and a good ear for listening to my problems.”
“What about that… Jake guy, you were working with?” Leon asked. “He's got problems.”
Sherry laughed.
“And he'd kill you if he heard you say that.” She replied. “Problems aren't enough, that's not all I want, and it's definitely not all I'd need.Truth be told, I don't even know what I really want, but… I'll know what I need when I have it, I think.
She looked across the table at Leon.
“So, Leon Scott Kennedy,” She continued, “what do you want?”
Leon hadn't put much thought into that question, even before Sherry elaborated.
“What are you looking for in life?” She asked. “What's your big goal?”
“I don't think I've ever had one.” He admitted. “It's always just been the mission, whatever that was.”
Sherry smiled.
“I thought that was what you'd say.” She replied. “Ever since I met you, it's always been about the mission at hand, the next mission, a new assignment, never about what you wanted.”
“And that's why I'm here, talking to you, with a glass of whiskey in front of me?” Leon asked.
“Maybe.” Sherry said. “It's also why you've lived this long. It's not a bad thing to focus on the situation you're in, but sometimes you've got to think about something other than everyone else.”
“That's what I was doing when I grabbed the bottle.” Leon said as he knocked back his shot.
Sherry took a shot of her own, and poured another round, but this time she poured them to about the three quarters spot on the glasses, not that Leon noticed.
“I don't think you really were.” Sherry said as she leaned back in her chair. “I think you were trying to keep yourself from thinking about what you wanted.”
“Probably.” Leon muttered as he gazed deeply into the shot glass once more.
“Me, I haven't put a lot of thought into it either.” Sherry admitted. “It's been go, go go, do this, do that… I have to think back a long time before I can remember what I really wanted.”
“I'll tell you what I want.” Leon said as he lifted his shot glass. “A few moments of peace and happiness.”
He knocked his three quarters of a shot back, and Sherry raised her glass in unison with him, and swallowed her own shot.
“I can drink to that.” She said as she refilled their glasses halfway. “Peace, love, and happiness. What I wouldn't give to have that, every day, for the rest of my life…” She said as she eyed Leon's eyes, which were locked on his diminished shot, without really acknowledging that his drinking partner had poured him less than a full glass.
“What does happiness really even mean?” Leon wondered as he rolled the glass over in his hands, threatening to spill his half serving of whiskey.
“Huh?” Sherry asked. “I oughta get you drunk more often if that's the kind of questions you ask.”
“In the moment, I feel like I'm happy when I'm helping people,” Leon muttered louder than he thought he was. “Shoot down the bad guys, slash down a monster, blow up an evil fortress, save the civilians, rescue the hostages, help my friends, make my escape and rest up to do it all again tomorrow. It's great… But I don't know what to do after that. I can't keep doing this forever…”
“Sounds like an early onset middle-age crisis.” Sherry replied. “Let me guess, no luck with Ada?”
The name startled Leon, who looked up at Sherry with a blush on his cheeks. He'd carried that torch for the spy longer than he'd like to admit.
“I know what it's like…” Sherry said as she took a shot of her own accord. “Pining after someone like that. Trying to tell yourself that it's not good for you, trying to tell yourself to find someone else, and your heart not letting you even try… Hope springing anew whenever you see them… Only to be dashed again when you inevitably part ways.”
Sherry slammed her shot glass upside down on the table and stared Leon deep in his bright blue eyes.
“The last time I felt really happy was when I saw you again, Leon.” She admitted. “Everything else I've done, everyone else I've known has wanted something from me, wanted me to do something… But you, you never asked me for anything. You were always my knight in navy blue armor, Leon.”
“What-” Leon's voice caught in his throat as he realized what she'd been talking about. “What do you mean?”
“We're not getting any younger, Leon.” Sherry said. “I'm not aging the way everyone else does, but… Time still keeps passing for me, and I don’t like the idea of passing all of it alone. Everyone else has someone. Chris has Jill, Claire has Dante, Barry has Kathy, Moira, and Polly, Rebecca has Billy… You and I, we really don't have anyone. We have the others, but not the way they have each other. I'm not going to settle down with just anyone… And I don't want you to drink yourself into a stupor, and die all alone…”
Sherry leaned across the table, plucked Leon's half-full shot glass from his fingers, and swallowed his shot as well, flipped the glass over, and slammed it down with an assertive motion./p>
“What are you doing?” Leon asked as Sherry leaned closer to him.
“I think I'm going to kiss you, Leon.” Sherry said.
“You… really shouldn't do that.” Leon said half-heartedly.
“If that's what you really think, then stop me, Leon Scott Kennedy.” Sherry whispered as her forehead brushed against his. “I know you could if you wanted to. You punch monsters and knife-fight super soldiers for fun.”
Sherry locked her lips around Leon's and hugged him tightly around his shoulders. She kissed him until his face grew a bright cherry red, and until her lungs ached for breath.
“Maybe I could've if you hadn't gotten me drunk.” Leon replied with an embarrassed smile.
“Oh that's bullshit and you know it.” Sherry said as she leaned back, grabbed the bottle of whiskey, and the cap, and screwed them tightly together. “You've been worse off than what, two and a half shots?”
Leon shrugged as his neck burned red.
“I uh… Might've had a few more before you showed up.” He admitted. “Five, or six…”
“Well, you've had your last swig for a while, okay?” Sherry said authoritatively. “You know how much this garbage costs?”
“Hey, Glenlivet isn't garbage!” Leon protested.
“It still isn't good for you…” Sherry said. “It doesn't have to be terrible to be garbage.”
“Alright, alright.” Leon said appealingly. “I promise, I won't…” Leon glanced at Sherry again. He… still felt the blush upon his neck and cheeks. “So uh… What's next?”
“Next, we're stopping somewhere for a bottle of Gatorade, and you're drinking as much water as you can stand before you go to bed, alright?” Sherry implored. “I don't want you to wake up hung over, regretful, remorseful.”
“And what would I regret?” Leon asked, regretting those words as they left his mouth.
“Hopefully nothing.” Sherry said as she pulled Leon up out of his chair and into her arms. “I just want to bring a little peace, love and happiness into your life, if you'll let me.”
“I think I could do with that,” Leon whispered back to her, “if you'll let me do the same.”
“I’d like it if you did.” Sherry replied softly. “So…” Sherry hadn’t actually expected her plan to work. She was unprepared for what to say next… “Cab?”
“Yeah, cab.” Leon replied. “Unless you’d like to walk?”
“Knowing us, we’ll run into trouble one way or another.” Sherry said with a smile as they left the bar. “Either way, I’ll have my knight in navy blue armor with me.” She said, clutching Leon’s arm tightly.
“Like you can’t handle yourself.” He said with a lopsided grin.
“Imagine what we could handle together, anata.” Sherry said as she nuzzled her head into his shoulder, and raised a hand to hail a taxi.
Anata? Leon knew a few languages other than English, but this was a word he couldn’t place, outside of an Arabic name that made no sense in the context of what she’d said, and a Spanish phrase related to taxes, if his liquor-addled brain was to be trusted.
Sherry must have noticed his puzzled expression, because she clarified.
“It’s Japanese.” She said, answering one half of the question on his mind. “It means ‘my love.’”
Leon felt his heart skip a beat, and the blush on his cheeks, which hadn’t retreated since she’d kissed him, grow deeper.
Leon looped his arm around Sherry, and kissed her on the top of her head as a bright yellow taxi pulled up.
The two of them piled into the back as delicately as they could, given their current state.
“Where to?” The cabbie, a man with a smooth voice and a square face asked.
“The nearest store,” Sherry said. “What flavor of Gatorade do you want?”
“Cucumber.” Leon replied facetiously.
“Alright, cucumber it is.” Sherry replied, deliberately ignoring Leon's joke.
“Am I taking you two any further?” The cabbie asked as he pulled up to a convenience store, and Sherry made to leave the cab by herself.
Both Sherry and Leon froze, as the realization that neither of them had planned this far, or discussed where to go after leaving the bar hit them.
“My place, or yours?” Leon asked eventually as the square-faced cabbie gave them a piercing glare.
“My place is the D.S.O. dorms.” Sherry said. “Yours is fine.”
“Yeah.” Leon said as Sherry darted inside to buy the drinks.
“Got yourself a good lady there, looking after you like this.” The cabbie commented.
Leon blushed again, and clammed up until Sherry returned with three large bottles of mildly green Gatorade in Lime Cucumber.
Leon told the cabbie his address, and marveled at the fact that Cucumber Gatorade was real as he drank down the pale liquid as the cabbie drove them home.
A few precious minutes later, they arrived at Leon's house, a not insignificantly sized two-story dwelling a relatively short driving distance from the Secret Service offices.
Sherry whistled in awe as Leon paid the cabbie.
“It's not really much…” Leon said, clearly not having understood the meaning behind the descending pitch of the whistle Sherry had let out.
“It's way more than what I'm used to.” Sherry said as Leon fumbled in his pocket for his keys. He almost dropped them, but somehow managed to pick out his door key, and unlock his front door.
Inside, the ground floor of Leon's house was an open plan of workbenches, tools, and equipment, all dedicated to the maintenance and construction of various weapons, gadgets, etc. There was a rifle apart on one table, a miniature grappling hook launcher on another, and towards the back, there was a small clean room for making medical supplies that, if one didn't know Leon, might have painted him as part of some sort of drug ring. Nothing remotely personal was to be found downstairs, save for an old acoustic guitar in one corner on a stand, and an old jacket hung on the coat stand near the entryway.
The stairs to the second floor were flat against the wall at the back of the house, near the ones that led to the garage in the basement, where, based on what Sherry could see of the first floor, she had no doubt that Leon had populated the place with tools for the vehicle they'd left in the bar’s parking lot, and would no doubt have to retrieve the following morning.
Leon tossed his keys onto a steel table near the front door, and pushed aside a box full of something Sherry couldn't identify immediately, and didn't care to. Her mild dose of liquid courage was already starting to wear off thanks to her enhanced immune system, and she didn't want to lose her nerve at this point.
“Sorry about the mess,” he said apologetically as he surveyed his workshop for the seemingly dozens of unfinished projects on all of the tables, “I… wasn't expecting…”
Sherry turned him to face her and pressed a finger to his lips.
“It's alright.” She said with a giggle. “It's very nice. Lots of space. I'm not really used to lots of space. It's good you stay busy.”
“...Yeah.” Was all he could say in response. “...You wanna?”
“See upstairs?” She suggested.
Leon blushed again.
“I was going to say the basement, but… Yeah.”
“I'd love to.” Sherry replied, taking his hand.
Leon led her through a path to the stairs at the back, and up to the second floor, where the arrangements were less spartan, and far more homey than the workshop downstairs, but still simple.
There was a large bed, a television on the wall, a dusty PlayStation 3 in the entertainment center below, a computer in the corner, and a couch across from a large window overlooking a pristine scenic view. There was, based on what she could tell from the layout, a rather large bathroom to the north of them, a kitchen and dining area through the door past the couch, and an exercise area in the door beyond the kitchen.
On the entertainment center below the TV, there were three pictures. One was of her, Claire and Leon right after their escape from Raccoon City in 1998. Another was of Leon, Chris, Jill, Barry, and Rebecca in Europe, after their takedown of Umbrella's Euro branch.
Another was of two people Sherry didn't recognize. A man and a woman, with a young boy between them. The photograph of the trio was noticeably older than the other two. But those eyes…
“Is that you?” Sherry asked, pointing to the photograph.
Leon nodded as he sat down to unlace his boots.
“Me, mom, and dad.” He said as he kicked off his footwear. “I don't have any other pictures of them… Just that.”
“...” Sherry's questioning look asked more than she dared voice.
“They died…” Leon said in answer. “Both of them, not long after. My dad was an accountant, my mother was a nurse… You live in Jersey, and you run into some shady people in those professions. Dad added up some numbers he shouldn't have, told the FBI, and all of a sudden, his birthday turns into bullets and bloodshed…” Leon unbuttoned his top, then pulled up his shirt, which made Sherry's heart skip a beat for once as she caught a glimpse of his well-honed musculature, and the scar near his heart.
“I was the only one who lived, and barely.” He said hoarsely as he let his shirt fall. “A police officer, Sergeant Deckard, held pressure on me until the hospital could get me put back together…” Leon shook his head, and laughed bitterly. “And that's why I wanted to be a cop.”
Sherry felt her nerve slipping away as Leon stretched out, and looked around the room.
“Well…” He said softly as though he were planning to crash on the couch for the evening. “Good-”
In an act of pure impulse, Sherry pulled Leon up off the couch by his collars, and pushed him onto the bed, where he landed in a bewildered position as she climbed up next to him, sat on his chest, and kissed him once more.
“If you think I'm going too far…” She implored him between kisses and tender touches to his crimson red blushing skin. “Tell me, okay?”
Leon awoke in his bedroom without the headache he'd expected, given how much he'd drank, and the ferocity of what he was sure had been nothing more than an odd dream. The night had been a blur, but one phrase stuck out in his mind.
A little bit of peace, love, and happiness… he heard in Sherry Birkin’s voice as he opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. But why her-
Leon started as he felt someone clinging tightly, yet softly to his naked form. He looked down, and saw the mess of short blonde hair belonging to Sherry next to him. She grunted adorably as she stirred to awakeness in his grasp.
It wasn't a dream. Leon concluded as Sherry snuggled tighter to him.
“Is it morning already?” She asked softly.
“Yeah, I think so.” Leon replied.
“You wanna go back and get our vehicles?” She asked as she traced her fingers across his chest.
“In a little bit.” He said as he pulled Sherry closer. “Right now, I don't want to be anywhere else.”
“Mmmm.” Sherry purred into his ear.
To be here… Like this… Forever…
“Actually…” Leon said, acting on impulse as he traced his fingers down Sherry's shoulders. “I've been thinking.”
“About what?”
“About what you said last night.” Leon replied. “About a little bit of peace, love, and happiness…”
“Yeah?”
“I…” The words caught in his throat. “I don't think a ‘little’ is going to be enough. I want all of it. Every moment of it we can have. Forever.”
Sherry smiled, and sighed happily.
“I could do forever…” She whispered. “Just as long as it's with you.”
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Say hello to the product of several days of what I incorrectly described as "drabble" to Ben, who frequent readers may know has been a sounding board for some other material. I passed this first chapter by him and Kevin in an incomplete state, and then kept working on it, because my Steam key for Resident Evil Requiem has not found its way into my inbox just yet, thanks Gigabyte! /s
Originally, this was supposed to be a one shot, but this chapter was also supposed to be about two thousand words shorter, and I kept getting ideas about what to do afterwards.
So, what is this? Well, aside from being exactly what the tags say, fandom rumors prior to Requiem's release, plus a couple of leaks I couldn't avoid have created some of the most beautiful speculation I've ever seen in a fandom, and surprisingly, this speculation is far more grounded in reality than I thought was possible, given that Capcom doesn't want their characters to be happy or commit to any sort of relationship.
As a result, I was determined to see if anyone had explored the concept of a Leon/Sherry pairing, and to my dismay, not only had it not been explored to my liking, but the stories I found were... Incredibly tragic in nature.
I said "no!" "No, I'm not writing this up, I already have too many unfinished stories and projects I've been working on for far too long, I am NOT working on another one!"
But the plot bunnies just wouldn't stop bouncing around in my head, and before I knew it, they'd built a ship and set it to sail on the seas of my brain, and so I set off to try and create a story that would satisfy the following criteria for a Leon/Sherry story.
1) It must depict a wholesome relationship between Sherry and Leon.
2) It doesn't bash other characters for the sake of propping up my pet project.
3) No shaggy dog stories or overtly tragic beginnings and endings. These characters have suffered enough.
4) Other characters must also be happy outside of the main couple, possibly as relationship goals.
5) It must address the part of Vendetta and other weird aspects of the series canon that I could not stand where Leon repeats Chris's RE6 arc for seemingly no discernable reason.
I'm aware that this is toothache-inducingly sweet, I guess I'm turning into a sentimental old man, but fear not, dear reader, for I will deliver on my trademark blend of testosterone infused action and goofy humor both later in this story, and in other stories that I'm working on shortly.
The first chapter of my and Kevin's DC/Marvel Vietnam story, Fortunate Sons is pretty much ready to publish, I just have to finish formatting it and this week has been kinda rough.
Translator's note:
While 'anata,' which Sherry calls Leon both in this story and in Requiem, is directly translated as "you," based on context, its' most frequent meaning, and the one I've always seen it translated as, is "my love," but I've also seen it translated as "dear," "sweetheart" and "honey," and considering the context, I'm totally betting on it being a term of affection, rather than her essentially saying "hey you."
If Capcom decides to walk all of this back, or retcon this, or if it turns out they've just laid the framework of this pairing literally by accident... Whatever. Resident Evil can't decide on its own canon from game to game, and Capcom also forgot that Jill and Chris are supposed to have a relationship, so I'm not going to be too surprised if they drop the ball like they always do. At least we got something beautiful out of it. The fandom got talking, drawing fan art, and I got to write this, and I had a good time writing this, and I hope you guys have a good time reading it.
Besides, the canonicity of a ship has never stopped fandoms before, has it?
Additional note: The cabbie is intended to be Bruce Campbell. Shout out to Groovy Bruce, get well soon you absolute legend.
Also, yes, that cover is supposed to depict the rings they wear in Requiem. No, I can't draw rings lol.
My EU/Disney crossover fic of Star Wars, titled Ashes of the Empire, is available on Ao3 and FFN, as well as Wattpad. LMK if you want me to crosspost it here.
