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It's 8:32AM when Leon's phone first rings, cracked screen lighting up with an unknown number at the top. No one in the apartment has slept for longer than an hour; Jill is busy fighting with the percolater in the kitchen, while her partner leans against her side, and Leon lays on their couch staring at the ceiling.
2013 hasn't been his year so far, far from it, and the 30th of September is a day he usually tries his hardest to forget. His attempts haven't worked in the past, but he wasn't even given a chance to try this year, Jill dragging him out of his apartment on the 27th.
His phone rings again, and he ignores it again. It's only once it rings for a third time that he finally picks up, "This better be important."
"Well, you sound happy to hear from me," A male voice grunts, "It's me, old man, Jake Muller. I need your help."
"…How urgently? Today's not exactly the best day for me to-"
"Today is exactly why I'm calling; Sherry needs you."
Leon drops his phone down on the coffee table, setting the call to speaker phone. The clattering is enough to get Claire's attention, and the furrow of his brow is enough for her to come sit with him.
"Jake, tell me what's happening, now."
"Listen, Sherry has been acting kinda odd for the last few days. She's been getting shit sleep, so I wasn't really concerned about her being a bit…sensitive, until she had a little flashback last night. This morning she's disappeared off the face of the earth. Can't find her anywhere."
"Do you think she's left the house?" Claire asks, gesturing for Jill to go and get her something.
"Nah, all the windows and doors were locked from the inside. I think I heard her voice at one point too, like an hour or so ago. Didn't hear what she was saying, but I think she was crying."
"Shit. We'll be there in 30. Probably less than that."
Jill is standing behind the couch, staring at her partner and frowning, keys for their Subaru in hand. Claire looks similarly unsettled, passing Leon his jacket before throwing on her own.
"I think I'll wait here for now," Jill decides, "Sherry and I aren't all that close, I think I'd just scare her more."
"Are you sure? You could just… I don't know, sit in the back seat or something?"
"What am I, a dog? Besides, I've been meaning to call Chris and Carlos anyway. Just call me if she's still okay with another guest, and I'll take the bike over."
"Okay, but call me if you need anything," Claire replies, kissing her on the cheek while she pockets the keys. If Jill says anything after, he doesn't hear it, already halfway out the door.
Sherry's house is out in the suburbs, a quaint little home with a little garden in the front yard, chosen for it's proximity to Claire and Jill's flat. She'd recruited Leon on her mission to find the place, with his expertise in mold inspections and handling even the most sinister incompetent landlords; skills she never learned while she was in Simmons' custody. It was the second house they'd inspected, and while he wasn't fond of her landlord's attitude, she'd fallen in love with the place immediately.
Two floors; a bedroom and and bathroom on each, with a cozy office upstairs (with a wonky door he's been meaning to fix), and a spacious kitchen-dining entertainment zone. She'd wanted something open, a house where she could invite her friends and family over for dinner, instead of feeling trapped and claustrophobic in a city apartment like Leon. An extra half-an-hour drive to work is a worthwhile compromise for that comfort, she'd argued.
Jake is outside when they arrive, sitting on her porch next to a teal pot of daisies, leg bouncing and jaw clenched tight. His motorcycle is parked in Leon's usual spot beside Sherry's blue Honda, with its dented bumper from hitting the curb outside HQ back in July.
"Now that's a nice bike," Claire whistles, "You must be Jake, I'm assuming."
"Yeah, that's me; glad to know that at least one of you Redfields has good taste. C'mon in."
He walks back inside, waiting for Leon and Claire to follow before bolting the door behind them. There's nothing out of the ordinary about the house itself, the only new additions he can see being Jake's jacket and boots in the entryway.
"And you're certain she hasn't left on foot?" Leon asks, hanging his coat on the rack.
"All the windows and doors were locked from the inside, and there's no other way out. I've looked fucking everywhere for her, it's not that big of a house, but I still couldn't find her."
"You said she had a flashback last night, right?" Claire asks, "What happened?"
"The news came on while we were watching TV; no prizes for guessing the top story. They showed the normal shit, like a pre-recorded speech from the president, interviews with a few survivors, all that jazz. Nothing too crazy, until then they started talking about the Ashford Report and Umbrella."
"…Which was more than enough to trigger her," She concludes, pulling off her boots.
"Exactly. The flashback itself was pretty textbook, and it didn't go on for very long. She didn't want to talk about it afterwards, and I didn't feel like prying when she was already that upset. She said she'd talk about it this morning and…well."
Leon hasn't seen Jake since the days following Lanshiang, when they both tried to sneak out of the temporary hospital the BSAA had set upk. Somehow, he looks just as distressed now as he did when they first met, under far less alarming circumstances.
"Well, we're here to help. Why don't you start by looking upstairs again, and I'll look in the guest bedroom down here. Leon, can you try looking in the kitchen area?"
Jake grunts his agreement, walking upstairs while Leon takes off his shoes. He feels Claire rub a hand down his back, as if to say I'm here, before walking off into the guest room.
There's nothing particularly out of the ordinary in her kitchen, but the walk-in pantry is sparser than he'd like; there's nothing for her to hide behind in it. There's some canned goods, staples like pasta and rice, as well as a gifted box of chocolates, card still attached with a kiss mark in the corner. He'd recognize that shade of lipstick anywhere, but for now, he's choosing to ignore the box's existence.
He goes to check the living room next, only to be distracted by a new photo display hung up on the staircase wall, above the cupboard she stores her gardening equipment in. There's around 15 photos in total, all in random mix-matched frames, a couple with half-ripped Goodwill stickers still attached. Unsurprisingly, the shots are mostly of Sherry with Jake or Claire, but there's a couple of Chris and Helena, and even a blurry shot of Hunnigan with Leon passed out in his office.
There's one singular photo of Sherry as a child, yellowed from age and slightly damaged at the bottom. He can vaguely recognize her parents beside her, Annette barely attempting to smile, and William not even pretending to. In a fairer world, they'd be grinning just as wide as their daughter, and there would be plenty more memories of them on her wall. In a fairer world, he wouldn't need to be here looking for their daughter at all.
Upstairs, Jake is grumbling about her office door being jammed again, kicking it in with a loud thump. He hears Claire curse under her breath about the noise, but more importantly, he hears a quiet whimper from inside the cupboard in front of him.
Leon grunts in pain as he kneels down, carefully opening the door, just enough for him to be able to see inside without scaring her. The closet isn't very tall, but it's surprisingly deep; it's difficult to see into the far corner without a light of some form. He can barely see Sherry's face from behind a stack of empty boxes, with her knees hugged to her chest.
"Sherry, can you hear me?" He tries to keep his voice soft, "It's me, Leon."
Her eyes flicker to his face, but if anything, she looks more scared than before. She's obviously having another flashback, and has been for hours now. Leon is barely equipped to handle his own episodes, but as much as he wants to call for help, he knows from experience that any yelling will only make matters worse.
He tries again, "We're safe, kid, it's okay. Do you know where we are?"
She doesn't respond, flinching as quiet footsteps approach them. Claire is staring down at him, brows furrowed in confusion as she sits down. She gasps when she spots Sherry, shivering in her sweat-soaked pajama shirt, and just as shocked to see her.
"Claire? Is that you?" Her voice is shaky, voice weaker and higher than usual. Something in Leon's chest aches.
"That's me, sweetheart, and Leon's here too. Why don't you come out and say hello?"
"But…" She hugs herself even tighter, if that's even possible, "I can't- It's not safe out there! I can still hear the monsters…"
Technically speaking, she's not too far off; there is a tall and bald mutant roaming around upstairs. This one just happens to be friend, not foe. He should probably go and tell Jake that she's okay, and to keep it down for now.
"Why don't I go look around and check to make sure everything is alright, and you can come and sit with Claire? She can protect you if anything happens, remember?"
"It's okay, Sherry. Nothing's going to hurt you, I promise," Claire adds.
She seems to relax slightly at that idea, which is more than enough to motivate him to stand up and make his way upstairs. It doesn't take long for him to find Jake, inspecting her laundry products inside the main bathroom.
"What kind of secret government agent needs three different types of scent beads for her laundry- Shit, when did you get here? Have you found her yet?"
"Yeah, but she's not in a good state." Leon leans against the door frame, "She's having another flashback; I'm guessing that she thinks we're still back in Raccoon City. Didn't even recognize me for a minute there."
"It's the same as last night then. Jesus, no wonder she didn't want anyone finding her…"
He continues, "I mentioned that she's barely been sleeping lately, right? She's been having a lot of nightmares; 'thought it was to be expected, given the anniversary and all. I've only been here a couple of weeks, but she's been waking me up daily with all her tossing and turning. I heard her call for you and Claire a few times too."
"I told her she could call me if she was upset, or if she needed anything, and she said she was fine…I specifically asked her if her nightmares had come back, and she said no."
"Right," Jake rolls his eyes, "Because you would totally tell the truth if the roles were reversed."
If it wasn't for Jill dragging him to her flat by his hair, he'd probably be passed out drunk still. Maybe he'd be in bed with Ada, if she chose to visit him again this year. Still, Leon could point out the hypocrisy of that comment if he wanted to, and Jake knows it. Instead, they stare at each other for a moment, shared understanding between men too emotionally repressed to say anything about it.
Leon clears his throat, "…Anyway, I should be getting back down there."
"I'm not comin' down with you; if she's that scared, I doubt seeing my ugly mug will do her any favors. Just, text me or something once she's better. She left her wallet on the dresser, so I'll go get us breakfast or something."
Leon nods, awkwardly patting the other man on the shoulder, before making his way downstairs again. He tries to telegraph his movements enough for Sherry to hear him coming, but she still jolts when she sees him, sitting just outside the cupboard door with Claire's arms wrapped tightly around her.
"Don't worry, it's only me," he murmurs, "There's no monsters upstairs either; we're safe here."
"But…what if…" Sherry trails off, while Claire brushes a spiderweb off her shoulder.
"Leon and I will protect you if anything happens. For now, why don't we go somewhere more comfortable, like the couch or the downstairs bedroom. I'll even carry you there, if you want."
They sit in silence for a minute or two, before Sherry finally whispers, "The bed, please."
Claire nods, scooping Sherry up into a princess carry, her head cradled in the older woman's neck. It's a nostalgic sight; no matter how much they've all changed in the last 15 years, Claire carries her girl with the same ease. Maybe too easily, he's really starting to worry about how barren her kitchen was.
The guest bedroom is as warm and comforting as the rest of Sherry's home, from her favorite overpriced Yankee candles, to the flower-patterned blanket Hunnigan bought her as a housewarming gift. He picks up the latter while Claire sits down, Sherry still leaning against her chest, eyes half-lidded as he wraps the quilt around them. He sits down on the other side of the bed, watching as Sherry starts to doze off.
"You getting tired there, darlin'?"
"No…" Sherry whines, unconvincingly.
"It's okay if you want to get some sleep, you know? Leon and I aren't going anywhere."
An arm reaches out from underneath the blanket, a clammy hand wrapping around Leon's wrist, the other still clinging to Claire's back.
"She's right, kid," Leon adds, "We'll keep a look out for you."
He feels her grip slowly loosen as her breathing evens out, and suppresses the urge to sigh in relief. She's starting to drool on Claire's shoulder, but she's too busy trying not to cry to notice. Knowing Claire, she also just doesn't care that much.
"God, she must be exhausted. I know she's a big girl now, that she can take care of herself, but I still feel terrible for not realizing how bad it was getting."
"I'm not surprised. Jake mentioned that she's been having nightmares again most nights, and episodes like this take a lot out of you."
"She was hiding like that when I first met her, you know, tucked behind boxes in the tunnels under the RPD." She sniffs, blinking back tears, "She even sounded a bit like her younger self, or maybe I'm losing it too."
If Leon could wrap an arm around her without disturbing Sherry, he would. For now, all he does is pass her a tissue from his back pocket, while he pulls out his phone.
"Are you messaging Jake?" Claire asks, inspecting the tissue suspiciously, "And how long has this been in…? Whatever, I can't be fussy."
He nods, searching for the thumb's up emoticon that Helena likes to reply with, instead of typing an actual response to his messages. It doesn't take any longer than 10 seconds for Jake to appear in the doorway, with Sherry's wallet and keys in hand. Unless Jake is the type of man to buy penguin themed purses, that is.
"She's out like a light, huh? Do you think she'll be up for eating anything when she wakes up, or should I just go out and get something later?"
"Maybe something light," Leon mumbles, "She likes the bagels from that one diner around here."
"Sounds like a plan. Either of you want anything?"
"Just coffees, maybe. I don't think I could eat right now, even if I wanted to. Don't worry about buying anything for later either, Jill's bringing takeout when she drops in."
"Right, then I'll— actually, wait, let me get a photo of you first. It's not for blackmail material, before you ask, she just looks…cute."
He says the last part of that statement is said like it's painful to admit, but as they watch Sherry somehow snuggle even closer to Claire, there's no better word to describe her. Leon doesn't even notice the photo being taken until the shutter goes off.
"Well, guess I'll see ya later," Jake says, slipping out of the room.
Neither of them say anything for a while, weary of how easily Sherry can be roused, until she starts unconsciously clinging even closer to Claire. By this point, she's nearly putting her into a choke-hold; left arm wrapped around her neck, hand clutching onto her sweater. It's as endearing as it is comical.
Leon snorts, "You sure look comfortable."
"It's familiar, that's for sure. Do you remember how she would hug herself to our chests like this, and hold us so tight that we'd wake up with her strangling us? I think it was on our 3rd day together, that you decided to go to a toy store and try finding her a plush toy to sleep with."
She'd struggled with sleeping alone back then, they all did. For the first few days, they'd all squeeze into the same twin-sized mattress in the cheapest motel they could find, until they were nearly stacked on top of each other. In the days after Claire left to find Chris, the newly freed-up space quickly lost its charm, because he'd wake up with the girl laying on top him anyway.
"I don't think I could forget that part if I tried, no. I don't remember what I bought her though."
"It was so hilarious, you were so scared of picking something she wouldn't like, even though she still would have been thrilled if you'd given her a roll of toilet paper. It took you a full hour of searching, but you ended up choosing a plush sea lion."
"…And she called it Sealeon. Yeah, I remember now, because it was big enough to hold comfortably, but small enough to fit in her bag."
Sherry adored Sealeon, carrying him around wherever she went; she'd even make Leon tuck him in at bedtime. Sure, it was a little childish for a twelve year old, but this was also a twelve year old who had just watched both of her parents die in a zombie apocalypse. Multiple times, in her father's case. She'd more than earned the right to act like a kid for once.
"Anyway, I came over a few weeks ago to bring her some soup, because she had that nasty flu that was going around your work. She wasn't picking up when I called, so I let myself in, and when I found her asleep upstairs… guess who I saw on her pillow?"
"Really? After all these years?"
"Yup, clearly very well loved too," She hums, gently raking her fingers through Sherry's hair. She's still fast asleep, her clammy hand loose around Leon's wrist, fingers twitching every now and then. She's possibly having another nightmare, if he had to guess.
Claire continues, "Simmons apparently let her keep most of the things you bought while on the run. Probably to trick her into thinking he was someone worth trusting, or something along those lines. As sick as that bastard was, I'm just glad she still has something from her childhood."
Sherry mumbles something unintelligible under her breath, brows furrowing until Claire starts patting her head again. She needs the rest, but he's not sure how restful this nap will be for her.
"You know," Leon starts, "You said it before, but she was kinda reminding me of her childhood self for a second there."
"It's not all that surprising, really. Do you ever get those flashbacks where you feel like you're in that moment emotionally? So, if you were having flashbacks to everything that happened in Raccoon City, you might feel like you're 21 again."
Instead of Raccoon City, or Valdelobos, or even Lanshiang, for the first time in a while, he thinks about his own parents. The nights where he dreams of them sprawled out on the floor, watching as the blood started pooling underneath them, hiding spot under his childhood bed. When he finally wakes up, he sometimes expects to be back in that bedroom again, with it's baby blue walls and the stuffed dog the cops didn't let him keep, instead of his shitty little apartment with mold growing in his bathroom.
"…I think I get what you're saying. So because Sherry was 12 when it happened, she started acting like she was 12 again."
Claire nods, "That's my guess, at le-"
She's cut off by Sherry groaning, face twisting and hands twitching in discomfort. Claire's attempts to soothe her fail this time, the younger woman jolting out of her hold like she's been electrocuted, eyes wide and pupils blown.
"Shh, you're okay, it was just a nightmare," Claire coos, "Everything's okay, Sherry."
Sherry doesn't respond, chest heaving as she scans around the room for something she wont find. Once her breathing starts to slow again, Claire slowly pulls her back into her arms, rubbing a hand up and down her back. She burrows her head into the non-drooled on shoulder this time, reaching out for him again and tugging him into the hug by his shirt. It's an uncomfortable angle to sit at, and he feels awkward about hugging Claire, but he doesn't complain.
She calms down again eventually, and he could be fooled into thinking she'd started dozing again, until he hears her mumble something.
"Say that again?" He asks, pulling back from the hug to sit beside Claire again.
"I was trying to say that I'm sorry, about… well, that."
"You don't need to apologize for anything, sweetheart, especially for having a flashback," Claire dismisses, wiping tears off the younger woman's face with the corner of the blanket.
"It's just- I didn't mean to worry you or scare you or anything! And I didn't mean to have a breakdown either, this is so embarrassing," She rambles, red to her ears, "Oh my god, I drooled on you?!"
"You don't need to be embarrassed, kid, and you don't need to worry about upsetting us either," Leon insists, "I've said it before, and I'll say it again; if you need us, just call."
Claire adds, "We want to be here for you, come rain or shine."
"I know you've offered, and I really am grateful, I promise! It's just that, I guess I keep forgetting that's something I can actually do now. That I can actually speak to you guys whenever I want to, instead of… you know."
For a second, he tries to picture her on previous anniversaries, hiding away with no one to come find her, save those bastards who only wanted her for her blood. He can't think about it for too long, because the idea makes him feel sick to the stomach.
"Well we're here now, aren't we?" Claire murmurs, "So, what would you like us to get you?"
"I guess, if you wouldn't mind getting a glass of water, maybe? Or…"
She pauses as they hear the sound of her deadlock unbolting, her excessive collection of key chains rattling as Jake takes the key out of her door. His footsteps are quiet as he approaches the guest bedroom, cup tray in one hand, smiley-face emblazoned takeaway bag in the other.
"Well, if it isn't Supergirl. Welcome back to the world of the waking."
"Jake… I'm so sor-"
"Save it," he interrupts, more fond than frustrated, "I should be the one apologizing for paying for all of this with your card."
She looks ready to protest, but gives in quickly, "…All right. What did you get, then?"
"A black coffee for Kennedy, caramel latte for Redfield, caramel milkshake for you, breakfast sandwich for me, and a cream cheese and cucumber bagel for the weirdo who thinks that's an acceptable combination of toppings."
Sherry rolls her eyes, "Ugh, coming from the guy who likes peanut butter and banana on his. You might as well put glue on it."
"I'm seconding that, no offense," Claire adds, before taking an overly large slurp from her polystyrene cup.
"Just when I though one of you Redfields was worth my respect— hey, Supergirl, what's that look for?!"
"I would speak very, very carefully if you don't want to sleep on the couch tonight, Muller."
Claire, visibly embarrassed, quickly changes the subject, "Speaking of tonight, Jill still wants to come over. Only if you're comfortable with that though."
"I'd like to see her!" Sherry replies between bites, "It's been a while, and she shouldn't have to be alone today either."
"Alright, I'll send her a messa- ah, wait, I left my phone in the foyer. Leon, could you text her for me?"
He nods, pulling out his phone. There's no new messages from the older woman, which could be a cause for concern, but the more likely reason is that she's too busy listening to Carlos yap on about his new neighbours' dog again. There are other messages, mostly bill reminders and other daily mundanities, but there are a couple worth mentioning.
"Helena and Hunnigan send their regards, apparently."
"Ooh, Is Helena in town still? I've been meaning to talk to her; I'm pretty sure her sister's birthday is coming up soon, and I can't imagine she's taking that well."
"I think she should be back, I'll have to check. And you're right about Deborah's birthday; she's taking a few days off starting from the 10th."
Sherry hums, "Ask her if she wants to drop by after work."
Jill responds to his message soon after, i'll be there soon. Just gotta hang-up on chris first, otherwise i'll be forced to listen to another hour of him complaining about the new recruits. Helena replies almost immediately afterwards, with just a thumbs-up emoji. Typical.
The text that catches him off guard comes from Jake, a blank message with the photo of the three of them he took earlier attached. While Sherry's face is mostly hidden from view, Claire's is front and centre, with her teary eyes and a beaming grin. Leon barely recognizes himself, posture relaxed and almost smiling, looking at the growing puddle of spit on Claire's shoulder. Luckily for Sherry's already wounded pride, that last part isn't visible in the picture itself.
"Jake, did you seriously— wait, actually, that's actually such a good photo…" Sherry muses, looking over Leon's shoulder to stare at his phone. She smells like dried sweat, mothballs and those vanilla scent beads Jake found earlier.
Claire coos, "Aww, look, even Agent Grumpy-Pants is smiling! You should frame it, put it up with the rest of the collection."
"I'm sorry, Agent who?"
Leon isn't entirely sure what face he's pulling, but whatever it is, its enough to make Sherry giggle as she leans against his side. It's a little strange; she usually runs cold to the touch, but as she leans her weight on him, all he feels is warmth.
The photo does end up on her wall with the rest of her collection eventually, sitting pride of place in a boring dime-a-dozen metal frame. And if that style of frame was chosen intentionally, to match a very similar photo sitting on Leon's work desk, well, that information is classified.