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Airports had always carried something inhuman about them. Too much light, too much noise, too many people all rushing somewhere as if time itself were about to run out. Leon moved through the departures hall with practiced indifference, a small black rolling suitcase trailing behind him. One hand stayed buried in his coat pocket, the other gripped the handle of his luggage. His suit was simple, dark, unmarked, as always. He looked like one of many. That was the point.
He was tired. Not the ordinary tiredness of a sleepless night, but the deeper kind that settled into bones and refused to leave even after a week of rest. The last mission had dragged on longer than it should have. Too much improvisation, too little information, the usual story. Now all he wanted was to board the plane, close his eyes, and for a few hours stop being Leon Kennedy, the agent who handled the dirty work.
He glanced at the departures board. His flight was still glowing green, but the weather had looked suspicious since morning. The snowstorm beyond the terminal windows resembled something straight out of a low-budget disaster movie. Snowflakes spun sideways, the wind hurling them against the building with stubborn determination.
“Great.” he muttered under his breath and kept walking.
He didn’t notice her right away.
It was a moment. One crossing of paths. Someone collided with him with more force than he expected. Leon’s suitcase tilted dangerously, and he himself took a half-step sideways, instinctively catching his balance.
“Sorry, I—” a woman’s voice began, cut short, breathless.
Leon lifted his gaze, ready to deliver an automatic it’s fine and move on. He stopped mid-word.
The woman in front of him had auburn hair, partially tucked beneath a woolen hat, her cheeks flushed from the cold. Her jacket was zipped up to her chin, a backpack slung over one shoulder. She looked just as tired and irritated as he felt.
And at the same time… familiar.
Too familiar.
“It’s—” he started, but his voice caught.
She was studying him too. For a second. Two. Her brow furrowed slightly.
“Leon?” she asked uncertainly.
That single word was enough.
It was like someone had flipped a switch. The picture sharpened instantly. The smile he hadn’t noticed at first. The line of her jaw, more familiar than it should have been. The eyes he’d seen in too many bad moments and a few good ones.
“Claire.” he said quietly, disbelief threading his voice.
For a moment they simply stood there, staring at each other in the middle of the crowded terminal, as if the world around them had suddenly slowed. People flowed past them, someone bumped Leon’s shoulder, someone else offered a hurried apology, but neither of them noticed.
Leon let out a short laugh and shook his head.
“Long time, no see.” he said at last, before he could stop himself.
Claire raised an eyebrow.
“You still have a talent for saying things that make you sound like the lead in a bad movie.” she replied, but she was smiling—genuinely.
“And you still run into people at airports.” he shot back, feeling the tension of the past few weeks crack somewhere inside him.
“That was intentional.” she lied shamelessly. “At least partly.”
Before either of them could say more, a metallic chime rang out overhead. The voice from the loudspeakers was overly polite.
Attention, passengers. Due to severe weather conditions, all domestic and international flights have been temporarily canceled. Please remain calm and await further instructions.
A chorus of groans and sighs rolled through the hall.
Claire closed her eyes and tipped her head back.
“Of course.” she said. “Naturally. Why not.”
Leon looked back at the board. His flight had vanished, replaced by a red cancelled.
“Looks like fate decided we’re not done with each other yet.” he observed dryly.
“Or that we’re just unlucky.” she replied. “Much more likely.”
The next several minutes dissolved into chaos. People lined up at information desks, someone shouted into a phone, someone else argued with staff. Leon and Claire stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder, in a strange, comfortable silence.
“Where were you headed?” she asked eventually.
“Washington.” he replied. “You?”
“Toronto. A meeting with a humanitarian organization. Supposed to be quick.” she snorted. “Like everything in my life.”
Leon nodded.
“Quick is rarely quick.”
Eventually they learned the airport was arranging transportation to several nearby hotels. Buses would depart soon, which in airport language meant everything and nothing.
“At least they’re not making us sleep on the floor.” Claire remarked, trying to sound optimistic.
“Yet.” Leon added.
They found vending machines along a side wall of the terminal. Leon dropped in a few coins, the machine rattled in protest, and a moment later spat out a plastic cup of steaming hot chocolate. He handed it to Claire.
“Hero.” she commented after a sip. “Okay, that’s surprisingly good.”
“Don’t tell anyone I drink things from vending machines.” he replied. “You’d ruin my reputation.”
They sat on metal chairs by the window. Outside, the snow still raged, the world white and blurred, as if someone had erased all the sharp edges.
“How long has it been?” Claire asked suddenly.
Leon hesitated.
“Since when?”
“Since the last time we really saw each other.”
He thought about it. Dates blurred together, missions overlapping.
“Two years? Maybe three.” he said finally. “I’m bad at that kind of thing.”
“Me too.” she admitted. “But I remember there wasn’t time then either.”
He smiled crookedly.
“That’s what we always say.”
“And then we disappear anyway.” she added more softly.
Silence settled between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was heavy with everything they’d never said because there was always something more urgent.
“You look…” Leon began, then stopped. “Good. I mean… you know.”
“You too.” she replied. “Though you look like you average about three hours of sleep a night.”
“That’s an improvement.”
Claire studied him more closely. She noticed the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, the shadows beneath them, the way he held his shoulders as if always ready to react.
“Still carrying the whole world on your back?” she asked gently.
He shrugged.
“Someone has to.”
“You know my opinion on that.”
“I do.” he said. “And sometimes… sometimes I think about it.”
The admission hung between them, quiet but significant.
Somewhere in the distance, an announcement declared the buses ready. People began to gather, nervous and disorganized.
“Looks like we’re taking the same ride.” Claire said, standing up.
“Looks like it.” Leon agreed, rising with her.
As they headed for the exit, their shoulders brushed. The contact was brief, accidental, but enough for Leon to feel a familiar tension. Not the kind born of danger. Another kind. Quieter. Harder to ignore.
Outside, it was cold and loud. Snow lashed their faces, the wind forcing its way under clothing. The buses waited with engines running, like large, panting animals.
They sat beside each other. Leon set his suitcase between his feet, Claire hugged her backpack close. The windows fogged almost instantly.
“You know.” Leon said as the bus pulled away, “I always thought if we ran into each other again, it would be… under different circumstances.”
“Me too.” she admitted. “But we never seem to catch good circumstances.”
“Maybe this is ours.”
She glanced at him sideways.
“This is an airport, a blizzard, and canceled flights.”
“Like I said. Ours.”
She laughed quietly.
The bus crawled through white, blurred streets. Leon felt his exhaustion finally catching up to him. He leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes.
“Hey.” Claire said after a moment. “Don’t disappear on me now.”
He opened one eye.
“I promise, just for a minute.”
“You always say that.”
“But I always come back.”
She didn’t answer right away. Then she nodded.
“I know.”