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Thankfully, they both still have their wallets.
How, after the night they’ve had, is a question they’re both content not to ask; right now, injured and exhausted with a twelve year-old in tow, Claire and Leon are just grateful that one thing has failed to be an obstacle.
The cashier at the dollar store stares at Leon, never taking a wary eye off him as he rings up the cheap shirts and pants he’d grabbed from the rack. “It’s been a long night,” Leon says kindly, eager to give this guy no reason to call the cops. That he’s wearing (the remains of) a police uniform is likely of no comfort.
“The cashier looked at me kinda funny,” Claire sighs when she and Sherry meet him back at the motel room, “but not quite that hard.”
Leon’s answer to that is that Claire does not look very scary; neither does he, by his own estimation, but a bulletproof vest can make anyone look at least a little more intimidating than they would normally be- especially if one is covered in enough muck that no one can see the police insignias on their uniform.
Then again, Leon’s not sure that anyone would be relieved to see “Raccoon City Police Department” on a dirty stranger right now.
Not since the news of the outbreak hit the national media and the whole country started panicking about a zombie apocalypse.
Claire and Leon encourage Sherry to shower and change clothes first. She is remarkably injury-free save for a few bruises and scratches; they’re all superficial and Claire diligently dabs them with antiseptic, so they’re not likely to become infected. Leon showers and changes in the meantime, and a weary Claire follows after him; by the time she emerges, Sherry is asleep on one of the beds.
Their eyes meet. “You hurt?” Claire whispers.
Leon nods. “You?”
“Yeah.”
They retreat to the bathroom, so they can take stock of and clean up their various injuries and talk without keeping Sherry awake.
Claire all but jumps on Leon’s shoulder- she’s been eyeing it since they met up on the train. “What the hell happened?” she exclaims once he’s pulled off his shirt and unwrapped the bandages- he left them on while showering, intending to change them later and dreading what the damage would look like.
It’s not nearly as awful as it could be, but it’s still not great- especially after getting sewer water and God knows what else all over it.
“Bullet,” Leon says, and then chuckles. “Probably the most normal way of getting hurt that happened tonight.”
Claire nods wearily; bullets seem pretty tame after the events of the last twenty-four hours. Leon grimaces as she cleans the wound, dabs it with antiseptic that feels woefully inadequate given the nature of the injury. He’ll have to keep an eye on it.
“So… You saw the guy? The big guy, with the hat and the overcoat?”
Leon shudders. “Yeah. Lots of times.”
“He was after Sherry’s necklace. It had a virus sample in it.”
Leon lifts his free hand, limply. “Did he, like, get confused between her locket and my head? Is that why he kept trying to crack it open?”
Claire giggles, bowing her head and dropping her hand from his shoulder.
“Seriously, everything wanted my ass tonight: The big guy, those freakish things with the tongues, that giant mutant alligator in the sewers-”
Claire’s head jerks back up, mouth hanging open with shock. “A what?”
“I mean, it could have been a crocodile, but how would I know the difference?”
She slaps both hands over her mouth to smother the wild laughter that’s bubbled up, bending over at the waist. It takes her a minute before she can gasp, “You found a mutant alligator in the sewers! Oh my God!” Claire goes back to wheezing into her hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. Leon starts too, because it’s the most absurd thing a person could say and he’s had just enough distance from almost being mauled by it where he can find the incident funny.
He doesn’t plan on telling her about Ada, though; he’s still sensitive about it, from grief and the intense humiliation of falling for a mysterious and attractive stranger like some little love-struck puppy.
Eventually Claire manages to compose herself and keep cleaning. Leon’s relieved when she finally wraps the shoulder up again, before turning around and looking at him over her shoulder. “Can you check my back?” Claire asks. “I fell and rammed into so many things tonight, it feels like one big bruise.”
Leon nods, and she turns back and rolls up her tank-top. He grimaces when he sees the damage; Claire was not very far off in her guess, her back a patchwork of black, blue, red, and brown. “It’s not pretty,” he sighs. “But it doesn’t look… Well, it doesn’t look like something you need to go to a hospital for. You can still move, so- how does your neck feel?”
“Fine. It’s just the back that’s sore, thankfully.” She rolls her shoulders.
Miraculously, apart from minor bullet-wounds and gigantic bruises, both of them seem to have escaped from this nightmare with only minor injuries. No one was bitten, no one required urgent professional medical attention…
Yeah, ‘miraculous’ is definitely the right word for it.
“How long do you think we should stay quiet?” Leon asks.
Claire shrugs a little (winces, probably because of her back). “I don’t know. At least until we have a better idea on how this is all going to play out with Umbrella. I don’t know how much the public, or the government, knows- and I don’t know if they think they might be able to weasel out of responsibility for what they’ve done. They’ve had experience with it before.”
“There’s no way,” Leon protests, even though he knows Umbrella has (had) a whole laboratory built beneath the city and therefore has the kind of money that can make problems disappear. “Plenty of people escaped the city. They’ll rat out Umbrella in a heartbeat once they start hearing bullshit.”
“I sure hope so.”
Claire is leaning against Leon’s chest- his bare chest, because he hasn’t thought to put his shirt back on yet. Neither of them had seemed to notice when it had happened, and Leon will not be the one to mention it. They sit like this in total silence for a while, fatigue setting in.
“I found a letter from Chris,” Claire says quietly, head leaning against Leon’s uninjured shoulder. “It was weird- definitely his handwriting, but I think he was writing in code. I think he and a few other people might be looking into Umbrella.”
Leon perks up, cocks his head for a better look at her face. “Really?”
“Yeah.” A beat. “I… Didn’t mention that part, did I? My brother is a S.T.A.R.S operative: He was one of the ones Chief Irons threw under the bus when a squad came back from the Spencer Mansion talking about…”
She doesn’t elaborate, and doesn’t meet his eye.
Leon doesn’t need clarification.
“Boy. That’s gonna go over like a lead balloon now that the city’s been blown to kingdom come.”
“I hope so. I just wish Irons was alive to get dragged through all the hell he deserves.” Claire sounds bitter; she and Sherry had already given Leon a brief overview of how Chief Irons had thrown a wrench into their escape plans. “But anyway, I don’t think Chris was in the city during the outbreak.” Leon sees her chew her lip. “But some of his coworkers might have been.”
“If they got out of whatever happened at the mansion alive, they probably hustled and got out once they realized trouble was brewing.”
“Mm.”
Neither of them states the obvious:
Or, as law enforcement with some sort of grasp on the nature of the situation, maybe they stayed behind and tried to save people only to be eaten, turned into zombies, or blown away when the missiles hit.
It’s a very likely possibility.
But Leon doesn’t know how well Claire knows her brother’s coworkers (probably his friends) and so he leaves the darker possibilities unspoken.
He wouldn’t mind staying like this, because it’s comfortable and Claire is warm beside him; indeed, her head’s lolling in a way that suggests that if she’s not asleep, she soon will be. But he has to figure that at some point Sherry is either going to wake up and need the bathroom, or just wonder where they are and come looking, and she already seems to think that they’re boyfriend and girlfriend. Finding them cuddled together on the bathroom floor (with Leon shirtless, no less) will only encourage the idea.
(Not that it’s the worst one he’s ever heard.)
“We should probably go to bed,” Leon sighs.
“Mm,” Claire mumbles. At first she doesn’t move, and he thinks maybe she’s already mostly fallen asleep, but then Claire hauls herself up and steadies herself on the door. She offers him her hand, and Leon manages to drag himself up as well with her help. Their legs are asleep as they stumble into the dark room, and Leon narrowly manages to keep his mouth shut when he bangs his knee on the edge of one of the beds. Claire flops down beside Sherry, and he drops down on the other bed.
“Good night,” Claire mumbles, curling in on herself.
“Good night,” Leon returns, rolling onto his side to face the wall.
A beat- and then he rolls over so that he’s facing Claire and Sherry. He feels better being able to open his eyes and know where they are, just in case.
It’s been a really, really long night.
-End