IMPORTANT NOTE: We are splitting the story once more (it's the last time, we swear). This is the LAST chapter of Family Portrait 2, For more updates, like Family Portrait 3, please follow the Twisted Redfield Sisters :) We promise we won't spam you with other stuff than FP :)

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That little light at the end of the tunnel

Just as she had always seen her accidental affair with Wesker as a punishment for her forbidden feelings for Chris, the mutually beneficial friendship with Leon had to be a reward for all the torture she had taken throughout the years. It was, hands down, the best decision she'd ever made, and even though their jobs made it impossible to meet more often than before, their encounters soon became a luxury she wouldn't want to miss ever again. Leon was attentive, imaginative and skilled, and such perfect boyfriend material that it was a pity that he was wasting his talent with someone like her, who would never give him the love he deserved. Admittedly, compared to the actual object of his obsession, Ada Wong, she was almost the perfect housewife. The point was that Leon magically and unexplainably always knew what she needed. He made her feel good about herself, her body and her doings, and when she was with him, even her always-angry mother seemed to look pleased in that frame on her nightstand. Still, Claire turned her away whenever he came around.

"Leon! Leon, what are you doing?"

She had woken up in her bed, naked, with the covers tugged up to her nose and a solid and persistent grasp around her thighs. With intense pedaling of her legs and a scream proper of a damsel in distress, she tried to shake the assaulter off as elegantly as possible. It was hard, though, when the one holding her was a trained, strong government agent, as stubborn and naked as herself, and with his face already nuzzling her parts. When her attempts to press her legs together finally succeeded and she got to pull her knees to her chest, Leon ripped the covers away and frowned at her.

"What the fuck, Claire? You nearly kicked me in the face."

She snorted out a displeased grunt, eyes gesturing downwards.

"What were you doing down there?"

Leon blinked incredulously, and with a gentle tilt of his head to the side he began to laugh, one hand of his scratching over the hairline at the top of his neck. His tongue darted out and moistened the corner of his mouth, preparing to speak.

"A good morning greeting. They call it cunnilingus, lick job, going down on you." The smirk on his face grew bigger with every synonym used. "Don't you like it?"

She hesitated, the doubt about letting him see her so closely draining all the lust from her limbs. His beautiful face, with his eyes, nose and mouth, was certainly not something she'd like to see stuffed into her parts, and the timid shrug that caused her shoulder to jump seemed to give away more than she was able to say. With eyes narrowed into thin slots he shook his head.

"Wait. You've never been eaten out?"

Said like that, the idea lost the little remaining romanticism it had. Claire swallowed uncomfortably as Leon huffed out a laugh and began to caress her calf with his right hand.

"That boyfriend of yours was a dick."

He wasn't entirely wrong, of course, even without knowing that said boyfriend had actually been the Captain of Chris' S.T.A.R.S. unit once and was now known as one of the most dangerous terrorists that had ever existed. All Leon knew, though, was that she had learned everything about her sexuality with that one guy, as she had confessed to him one night after leaving him dry, causing him to fascinatedly applaud her oral technique.

"Maybe."

Leon pursed his lips and scoffed, his hand still stroking her leg.

"It's me, Claire," he said warmly. "I've seen and been in every spot of you, remember? What can possibly go wrong if I use my tongue this time?"

Claire though, shook her head anxiously, asking, "what if I smell or taste bad?"

The blond rolled his eyes in amused irritation.

"You don't." Playful fingers danced along her leg until they reached her knees, making her loosen up a bit with a targeted grasp, but Claire was still hesitant to let him proceed.

"What if I don't know how to do it?"

Leon laughed so delightfully that it pushed a hint of pink into her cheeks. He propped an arm onto her left knee and looked at her.

"This is not how it works, Claire. The one who has to prove something here is me. I've also been told I'm not bad at it, but I'd trust your opinion better than any other's." With a gentle but firm touch on her shoulder, he pushed her into the pillow and pulled on her legs. "Now relax. Or will you make the same drama the day your crush asks to go down on you?"

She snorted and stuck her tongue out in offence, to which Leon replied with a playful wink. Her crush, as the blond had started calling him, wasn't going to do that to her — ever— as they were currently not even speaking unless it was her calling him. Even if Chris hadn't been completely absorbed by the void of Jill Valentine's past existence, under no circumstance would he have touched his sister, but as Claire watched Leon descend to her sex with tender bites and humid kisses, she couldn't stop herself from imagining it was her brother. Was it wrong to picture someone else when a god-like creature like Leon Kennedy was about to take care of her pleasure all alone?

"Leon?" She called him without making a move, hoping that he wouldn't believe she was still resisting him. The blond looked up and smirked doubtfully.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think of Ada when you're with me?"

A blush of horror popped onto his face when he heard her question, the translation of many irrational fears of complications and commitments that caused his shoulder to twitch into a shy shrug as he began to rub the back of his neck.

"I think of Ada very often," he mumbled ashamed as he gathered the courage to look her in the eyes again. "Yes, I think sometimes even when we're…"

Claire smiled, bending toward him and cutting his words with a kiss on the lips.

"Good," she whispered and leaned back again. "This way I don't have to feel bad if my mind slips away."

A relieved smirk dressed Leon's lips as he disappeared under the covers again. When he gave her spot the first humid stroke, Claire quickly hid the picture of her parents in the drawer of her nightstand.

This was going to get loud and it was best if they didn't see nor hear her.

It was nearly perfect. Like being with Wesker again, but without the bad teasing and the uncertainty or the unanswered questions. No games. No bad games at least. We were just there for each other, inside and outside of the bedroom, and it seemed to work. It worked so well that people mistook us for boyfriend and girlfriend more than once, which is funny, right? I mean, we never acted any differently in public. Sherry would have been happy had we told her about our encounters, but, of course, we never spoke to anyone about it, not even to her. It was our dirty little secret and it was, somehow, everything I'd always wanted to have, but with the wrong man. I can say that, can't I? It's not a secret anymore.

Chris, on his end, kept dedicating every minute of his time to work, secretly searching for Jill, and he barely came home. Barry kept me updated about everything related to him and his missions, because Chris himself never told me anything the rare times he took my calls. It was hard to see him decay like that, without any option to help him. Had there been a chance to break through and reach him, I would have tried, but I knew that any attempt from my side would be rejected, and that, if I wanted to save the little relationship we had, I needed to stay away.

And so, the months passed by.

Her heart hadn't stopped pounding during the whole long ride to their hometown, the expectation tickling her nerves awake and causing her to rush over the highways like a lunatic, but it wasn't until she turned into their old street and spotted Chris' car parked next to the sidewalk that she felt fear and anxiety take over the rest of her brain functions. She jumped so fast out of the car and towards the entrance that she completely forgot to lock the vehicle.

"Chris!" she called into the house, afraid of what she would find in there. "Chris!?"

Barry had called her that morning, asking how her brother was dealing with being home. Big news for her, as she had sincerely believed Chris was still abroad— somewhere in South America— and when the older man had reported that Chris had been back home for one motherfucking week already, she had even forgotten to have breakfast. Her brother's apartment was untouched; no suitcase, no signs of life, and everything was still in the same place where she had left it the last time she had come over to clean. If he wasn't at home and he wasn't at work, there was only one place left she could think of, and it was the one thought that had held all of her hope.

She walked through the lower floor of their parents' house, through the area that had once been their living and dining room, with the old couch and the chairs still turned onto the table and the big, see-through plastic covers protecting the furniture from dust. No signs of Chris, though.

Their family home had only been rented out for a few months since they both moved out years ago. When Raccoon City was destroyed, the cute little family who had convinced both Chris and Claire had quickly grabbed all their belongings and left in the middle of the night, without even paying the rent that month. Since then, the place they'd once called a home had stood empty, and Claire shuddered when the smell of dust and old regrets enveloped her, but she had no time to think how often she had heard Chris and Jill doing it on the couch or elsewhere in the house. Her brother needed her.

She climbed up the stairs, finding the doors to both her and Chris' old bedrooms open, but no Chris inside. His bed wasn't made, but someone seemed to have slept recently on the sheetless mattress. Tension grasping her tightly, Claire slowly made her way through the corridor and to the master bedroom, a room that had been unused in years as the siblings had tried to avoid it since they'd become orphans. Just as one trembling hand tried to push the door open, the sound of a piano key startled her and Claire rushed into the room.

"Oh, thank god."

Chris was inside, moving and unharmed, seated in front of the piano keys that seemed to make clumsy music for him. Without turning to her, he pushed some of the keys, and Claire sighed in delight when she believed to spot a smile on his face, the first smile she'd seen on him in months.

"Chris," she called again and walked towards him until she could sit next to him on the low bench in front of the instrument. "Hey."

Chris smirked and turned to face her.

"Hey," he replied without interest, but with such a warm expression that it was all Claire could have asked for.

He looked tired and slovenly, hair unkempt and eyes sewed with dry tears. He was only in dark pants that stunk like he had worn them throughout each of his latest missions; shirtless, it took him no effort to draw all of Claire's attention to the little charm he wore on a long gold chain around his neck and which dangled in front of his chest at heart height. Jill was everywhere on him and Claire hated it. Hadn't the ghost of the brunette done enough harm to her brother and herself, even after dying in a freaking canyon? Did she have to keep torturing him when she was long gone?

"How did you…?" There was the noble curiosity of the man who hadn't been aware of how much he had been hurting her with indifference over the past several months. Claire snickered softly at her own thought.

"Barry told me you were back," she whispered in a sad tone not even Chris could ignore, causing his left eye to twitch. He turned back to the piano.

"I'm sorry," he said and sighed as he pressed down one of the white keys. "I wasn't taking it well."

And he still wasn't, she understood as she saw a tiny tear glistening in the corner of his eyes. His entire self was still bathing in Jill's absence, feeding on the grief. Chris looked like he had desisted from sleeping for good, wearing the dark circles under his eyes like solid proof of how much he missed her, but he was stable, receptive and aware, it seemed. Claire reached for his hand and held it in a tight grip between her fingers.

"It's okay, Chris," she replied and leaned her head on his shoulder. "It's okay."

Chris kept hitting one key after another, trying a set of finger moves that allowed him to play something that sounded like real music to her untrained ears. While she kept her temple pressed against him, listening to the little remaining music he had inside, the wish she had rescued his guitar from Raccoon City began to swell in her chest. The tune he was playing was for Jill, undoubtedly. It wore her name like everything about him did, imprinted under the skin like a tattoo, and it hurt to see him pour his soul into someone who wasn't there anymore.

"When are you leaving again?" Claire asked when she couldn't stand the rattling noise anymore and Chris' hand balled into a fist, pressing the keys down.

"I-I…" The words stumbled out of his mouth ineptly. "I've been suspended."

Her head jumped up and spun around to face him, so energetically that her ponytail drew a wide aureole around her head.

"What?"

"Didn't Barry tell you?" he asked in a grunting voice as he rolled his jaw in anger.

Claire sighed. No, Barry hadn't told her about whatever reason the B.S.A.A. had come up with to keep her brother away from the job, but it didn't actually surprise her. After witnessing his treatment towards those who had stood up against him regarding Jill's death; including herself; it had been only a matter of time before he got into trouble.

"What happened?"

He merely groaned in response.

"Johnson is an old bastard. That's what happened."

Claire pouted as her eyes narrowed into slits. There was no doubt that Max Johnson, the conservative successor of Clive O'Brien in the position as B.S.A.A. director, had started a personal witch hunt the day Chris had refused to attend his absolutely superfluous welcoming ceremony, but after a whole year of insubordination and rebellion against the higher ranks, her brother had most probably earned himself that penalty. A touch of solace, tender and warm, crawled up his arm and landed on his shoulder blade and Chris turned his head to the left.

"An old bastard."

The way his lip curved when he spoke, the subtle swearing and the particular width of his open eyes said that time had been doing its magic, and that Chris was indeed, step by step, accepting that life would go on, even without Jill Valentine in it. Claire smirked, dropping a kiss to his shoulder.

"I'm starving. How about pizza?" She suggested and raked a couple of fingers through his dark locks. "Pepperoni?"

The gentle huff of joy he released said more than words could ever speak and Claire felt the soothing warmth of relief spread in her chest as Chris nodded when she said, "and later we can watch one of those lame action movies you enjoy so much."

One joyful leg was swung over the bench as she leaped to her feet, impulsed by the renewed bliss that streamed through her veins. Before she reached the door to the corridor, though, Chris' voice stopped her.

"Claire," he called. With a hand on the handle, she looked back at him, meeting the blue of his irises in the afternoon sun that flooded the master bedroom. "Thank you."

She swallowed, rather bitterly with her heart hammering so hard that she felt the beating of it in her throat, and she couldn't help smiling awkwardly. The explanation Chris offered next didn't make it particularly better.

"For all your help. Without you, I would have never gotten away from that canyon."

Knees weakening, Claire took a tighter hold of the door as she nodded at her brother, forcing down the stinging tears. He was right, she knew he was right, but telling him wouldn't help him.

"It's okay, Chris." Voice loaded with sadness and hope, she gave him the only words she could believe would actually help. "I love you."

Words like those couldn't be considered spoken if there was no one there to receive them. To Claire it felt like months had passed since she'd last said I love you, when she'd barely pronounced another word whenever they had talked on the phone. As Chris looked back at her, though, blinking softly and raising his head, she finally felt heard again.

"I love you, too."

There was nothing more effective to cheer up a Redfield than pepperoni pizza, beer and action movies, it seemed, and after classily finishing the second six pack and the third plotless film, Claire even managed to steal a laugh or two from her brother. The night had been weirdly gratifying and after nearly a year of pulling, searching and calling, with a disheartening result, there seemed to be a spark of hope in their life again — even though just a tiny one.

"It's late, Chris" Claire stretched her arms out as a wide yawn deformed her face. Fighting off sleepiness was getting harder and she considered she had been trying for too long to get her brother to get to sleep, wondering if Chris had broken the habit for good. "Don't you want to go to bed?"

The TV poured its light into the room, highlighting the abysmal craters under his eyes, and Claire watched in disbelief how her brother blew out a laugh and shook his head.

"Not yet, Claire bear." The sound of those words sent a shiver down her spine and a frown onto her face. He grabbed his can and swung it around, the gentle lapping of the contents playing a metallic tune for the night. "You go to bed, I'll stay here until I… pass out."

Surprised by his statement, Claire shifted her weight to her knees and crawled toward Chris, stopping only when she had him in her reach so her fingers could rake lovingly through his messy hair.

"Trouble sleeping?" she asked, eyes seriously set on his.

It was obvious, but she wanted to hear it from his own lips, fearing that his senses were still too dazed to admit it. When an ashamed drop of the head followed the subtle nod, she slipped her hand down his chest and around his torso below his arms, and pressed her body against his muscles. He was warm, still as firm and toned as he'd always been, just like she remembered him after studying him for years, but there was that fragility in that beautiful body that had surfaced one night in Hungary, a bow caused by the heft of the loss, and that sat monstrously in a corner, refusing to go away. Chris' hands climbed up her back, holding her with a firm grip on her shoulder blades, and he sighed softly when she whispered into his ear, "Then I'll stay with you."

He grunted protestingly as a weary head shake tried to dissuade her.

"No, Claire. You need sleep. Don't…" But she shushed him quiet and, punching his side until he leaned back, Claire curled up against him, embracing him with slender, protecting arms.

"I said I'll stay with you," she said and rubbed her cheek against his hard chest, bathing in the scent of him, and surprised by her own forbidden gesture of closeness.

Luckily, Chris was as oblivious to her touch as he had always been, defeatedly relaxing under the weight of his drunk, stubborn sister on him, which automatically granted her the win in any possible argument. His arm looped around her shoulders and began to caress the exposed skin of her upper arm while his eyes turned back to the TV.

"You know you can't stay awake forever, don't you?" he mumbled teasingly after two minutes which Claire had filled with an awkward struggle to keep her eyes open, enchanted by his touch on her body and the rhythmic sound of his heart so near to her ear. Finally able to respond, she blinked angrily into the light of the screen and yawned in protest.

"Maybe, but a couple of sleepless nights are no challenge for me." She huffed against his chest as her fingers stretched over his smooth skin, pulling her hand back automatically when she noticed that she reveled a little too much in it. "Or do you think I slept at all when you were missing in Europe in 1998?"

Chris' head fell back as he laughed, so loudly that she feared for the remaining neighbors to call the cops, and Claire found herself staring at him in awe. How long had it been since she'd last heard him laugh that whole-heartedly?

"So, my memory must be failing me, because as far as I remember I found you sleeping under the stairs in the mansion of those creepy twins in Antarctica."

With a breath of offence flooding her lungs and working as an impulse, Claire was on her knees in a split-second to assault her brother with one of her tickle attacks as soon as she'd had her hands free again.

"Sleeping? I was unconscious!" She shouted reproachingly, letting her laughter join Chris', while her brother was slowly succumbing to the tickles and begging for mercy until she decided to end the torture. She made him ouch audibly with a skilled leap into his lap again before he got himself to embrace her.

"I'm so sorry, Claire," he whispered and pressed a kiss to the soft bun she had tied her hair into. "I caused you nothing but trouble."

He couldn't even start to imagine how right he was, but not the way he believed. Claire sighed audibly as her fingers began to crawl over his naked chest once more, bravely ignoring the noxious gold charm that tried to distract her with its insulting shine. No, it hadn't been easy for her, but everything would have been worth the effort and the suffering if Chris found happiness. Why wouldn't he just understand that she needed him to be happy?

"Don't say that," she replied and turned her head to him, meeting his gaze full of sorrow. "You always did your best. I know it was hard for you to take care of me and…"

"Oh, no!" He laughed and tightened his grip around her. "You are perfect, Claire," he said and somehow made her heart batter wildly. Tears shot into her eyes. "Mom and Dad would be so proud of you."

The words came hard, impacting on her conscience like a bomb and blasting away all the carefully organized thoughts. Their parents proud of her? He had no fucking idea. And how could he? Chris hadn't seen their faces distort from all the sins she had committed, from all the times she had given in to the wrong fantasies, and from how sadly she had let evil Captains take advantage of her weakness. Claire pressed her cheek against his chest, trying hard not to let him see her pitiful shakenness and holding her breath until her lungs burnt for air. It was worth every effort, though; Chris needed her to be strong for him.

"Oh Chris," she whined in shame and forced a laugh when she found the will to breathe again. "I'm not. I'm…"

"And I'm proud of you, too."

Body stiffening with discomfort, Claire tried to remain as calm and natural as possible, afraid that any hint of nerve or a wrong twitch of the lip could be the confession of how much she had wanted to hear those words from him. He was Chris Redfield, the B.O.W. slayer, one of the very first known survivors of the global tragedy caused by Umbrella, and somehow the leader of the fight against bioterrorism and a legend in the eyes of many, but right now he was just a man who tried to enjoy a movie night with his almost-28-year-old sister, letting her lie on his stomach as though she was still a toddler and telling her he was proud of her. The redhead sighed with need for him before pulling back to look into his eyes.

"I missed you," she winced and gained herself a sad smirk from her brother. "I missed this. You and I together, just hanging out like brother and sister. Watching movies, chatting. I miss things the way they were before Jill…"

There was no need to complete the sentence; to Chris, because the memory of her death was still too painfully present, as his eyes showed when they closed in a twitch of regret; to Claire, because there was nothing to add. She didn't miss how things had been before Jill had passed, but before the brunette had come into their life.

"I miss it, too."

Gently releasing herself from Chris' hug, Claire knelt on the couch and placed her elbow onto the backrest, propping her head up as an idea she had been forced to bury after letting it surface too often suddenly popped up again. It started rambling across her mind with insulting ease and she stuck the tip of her thumb between her teeth to keep the words from spilling out.

"We could move back in together."

She sucked in a breath of surprise when the very idea she had been repressing was spoken out aloud by her brother and the incredulity about it caused her to blink twice; slowly.

"I mean," he added with a shrug before shaking his head eagerly. "Sorry, forget it. That's a dumb idea."

Blood pumping rapidly through her body, she instantly grabbed Chris' hand and held it.

"I would love to live with you, Chris," she whispered in a hardly believable voice of serenity. The somewhat befuddled look on his face said that he thought there was a but to complete the sentence with, so she quickly wanted to clarify. "Let's do it."

A timid spasm rushed over his lip before it turned into a soft smirk in response to her words and his thumb flicked lovingly over the back of her hand.

"I don't want to inconvenience you, Claire." His eyes looked glassy when they rose to hers, and the mere picture of it made her heart flutter in pain and love.

"You don't, Chris," he said as a big smile of happiness blossomed on her face. There were little things in the world that would have made her happier than moving back in with her brother, being with him in his struggle and as a part of his daily routine again. "It would make me so happy."

He shrugged.

"What if you want to take anyone home?"

The surprise was so big that the laughter nearly burst her lungs, the idea that she could be the one who'd need some privacy — after so many years standing Jill's presence, moans and underwear— nearly kicking her over. The hilariousity of it came before the thought of Leon and his agile tongue, of course. She could lock the picture of her parents in the drawer to hide their doing from the judging glances of her mother, but Chris wasn't that simple to keep. The laugh turned into a soft smile, also in response to Chris' sarcastic frown.

"Don't worry about that, Chris, I still want to live with you."

The reply didn't seem to satisfy him especially, but he stopped discussing the topic, postponing their talk to the next morning.

And the next day, we decided I'd move in with him, and I couldn't have been happier. Unfortunately, my prayers weren't responded to, and after a brief period of improvement, he just dropped back into his old schemes of self-destruction and drinking.

And he pulled me down with him.

"I'm pretty sure it will be boring."

Claire was sitting on the chair next to the table, bent down, busy tying her shoes and letting her extensive cleavage shine in all its glory as she glanced over at Leon with a smirk. The blond was leaned against the wall next to the door, with his hands stuck inside the pockets of his black suit and his eyes in the cleft between the breasts of the redhead.

"Oh, I expect it to be boring." She swung to her feet and straightened the folds of her red skirt before walking into the bathroom.

After putting on the diamond earrings Leon had organized particularly for her, she launched the mirror a seductive look from behind her dark, mascara-covered lashes. That night, she was supposed to be the agent's arm candy at that award ceremony where Richard Lionel Kennedy, whose main pastime during his highschool days had been bullying his younger cousin and who was now something close to a NASA engineer, was going to get his work recognized by a bunch of people in suits. Leon was bound to attend because his mother believed that family needed to be supported no matter what, but he would serve his cousin the revenge for coming to his graduation ceremony with a blonde with big boobs. The difference between said blonde and Claire was that the latter actually knew him well, and that she wouldn't cause awkward silence whenever his family asked how they had met or if they shared any hobbies. It had been Claire's idea to join him in the first place, but the tight dress with the low cleavage and the fire-red lipstick had been chosen by Leon himself.

"That's why I don't wear underwear, so you can keep yourself busy thinking about what I'll be doing to you later."

Leon laughed darkly, side glancing at his red-haired friend like a shy teenager, as though he hadn't seen her naked already. His attention tickled the corners of her mouth, turning her lips into a wide smile. The blond pushed himself away from the wall and caught Claire's waist in his grip.

"You look amazing," he complimented her and walked her to the door. "Thank you for the favor."

"Oh, please," she said with a laugh and a headshake. "I just come for the snacks."

If she was honest, she was excited to finally meet more people behind the name Kennedy. With Chris, Leon knew practically all of her relatives, except for a further aunt on their mother's side who still sent them Christmas cards every other year, but he himself barely spoke about his origins, changing subjects whenever someone brought it up.

Claire turned to the coat rack and gasped in despair.

"Shit, the coat," she hissed in annoyance as she began to root through the layers of other wearable clothes without finding something that would match her outfit that night. "I must have left it at home."

When her displeased look turned back to Leon, he returned her glance through narrowed eyes before they began to wave across the walls of her New York apartment.

"Home?" he asked in bafflement, probably doubting her sanity. The redhead chuckled.

"Oh, yeah, I moved back in with Chris a couple of weeks ago," she clarified and tried on a beige jacket that didn't quite match the redness of the breath-stealing dress.

With wide-open eyes, Leon lowered his head into a comprehensive nod.

"I see," he said and rolled his shoulders back to smoothly let his jacket slide off his arms.

Once the garment had dropped into his hands, he swung it around and over Claire's shoulders with a wink. She chuckled. He could be so charming when he tried.

"We're still seeing how things work out," she said as she gratefully thumbed over the blond's freshly shaved chin.

A certain melancholy crawled onto Leon's face.

"You're gonna give this place up soon?" But Claire shook her head.

"I'm not sure yet. I mean, where would we meet if I did that?" She laughed. "The monthly rent is half the cost of the room in one of your favorite hotels per night."

Leon opened his mouth to counter, but his response was cut abruptly by the sound of Claire's phone, which beeped for the third time that evening. One jittery hand pulled the purse open for the other to reach into it and grab the device.

"One second," Claire pleaded with one finger lifted.

She began to type something into her phone, stopping every now and then as if the right words to say didn't come to her.

"Is everything okay?" Leon asked.

"Yeah. Yeah!" she shook her head. "It's just Chris. He's having a hard time now that he's not working, you know? He's asking me where I put the bottle of vodka."

Thumb and index finger pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation as her eyes fell shut. Chris had very few brighter days among the rainy storm clouds his suspension had caused. Boredom and the feeling of uselessness were making it hard for him to cling to abstinence, and staying home seemed to boost his grief for Jill all over again.

"How am I going to tell him that I poured it down the drain?"

"You bitch!" Leon's naturally amused reaction to her sabotage came so surprisingly that it made her laugh, but the concern for Chris agitated her breathing. The blond must have acknowledged it, too, as he grabbed the handle and didn't move when Claire eventually dropped the phone and turned to the door.

"You should go, Claire." The tone in his voice, though disappointed, was loaded with odd sincerity and comprehension. "He needs you now."

Yes, Leon always knew what she needed, willing to make her comfortable and ease her concerns even when it meant that he had to face his family alone.

"Don't worry," she said with a shrug and laughed sadly. "I can't leave you alone with your family."

Right arm thrown around her, he patted her shoulder.

"They're not worse than a horde of zombies," he said. "I can handle them alone. Also, my pride isn't as important as your brother's well-being. I'm certainly not going to hurt myself if I have to congratulate my dumb older cousin on his success alone. But Chris…" he shook his head. "I'm seriously worried about him. You should be with your brother tonight."

Her red lips started to shake, still incredulous that he was telling her to go. She felt a little like the nineteen-year-old girl again, whom he had sent after her brother when she'd had no fucking idea where to find him. Leon had always pushed her after her brother, had always encouraged her to find and help and support him, and after nine years of friendship and several months of benefits, he still did. Hadn't she known it would have made their relationship just needlessly complicated, she would have wished to fall in love with him, because he clearly deserved better than to be dumped that night.

"Thank you," she winced, holding back the tears of excitement that lurked behind her eyelids. "I'm so sorry."

He shook his head and waved to the bathroom.

"Go change. I'll drop you at your brother's place before the ceremony."

Moving back in with Chris had changed my life in a way I hadn't expected, to be honest. Luckily, Chris soon got back to work and everything seemed to lighten a bit. Once he was allowed to go on missions again, to keep his mind busy, it was easier for both of us. That was, until someone from Raccoon City showed up to ruin my life.

Thanks again for reading. Don't forget to follow the author if you like what you read and want to know how this continues, as part 2 won't be updated anymore.

All our love

TRS