Chapter Text
December 31st, 2008 - Washington D.C.
The steady rhythm of windshield wipers cut through the silence in the car, battling against the falling snow. Claire’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as she drove through the icy roads. The holiday traffic was maddeningly slow, and she could feel the weight of her thoughts pressing in again.
With a sigh, she turned on the radio, flipping through the stations until a familiar song filled the space. It wasn’t her favorite, but it was better than the quiet.
“Whose house are we going to again?” Jack’s voice broke through, pulling her out of her own head.
She glanced at him briefly, her brow arching. “Jill’s,” she replied, certain this wasn’t the first— or second— time she’d told him.
“Right, Jill,” he mulled over. “You looking forward to it?”
Claire hummed, managing a soft smile as she took their exit. “I’m looking forward to you meeting everybody,” she admitted, her voice softer now.
Jack’s hand moved from his lap to rest on her thigh, his thumb brushing over the fabric of her dress. “Yeah? I’m excited too.”
Her lips quirked into a small, genuine smile, but she still felt uneasy. “It’s not that big of a meeting,” she said, almost to herself. “Some people you know, some you don’t.”
He waved a hand in dismissal. “I can handle a harmless family reunion.”
Claire sighed, shaking her head as she took their exit. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
“Complicated?”
She opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again. She couldn’t really explain it. It wasn’t a family reunion— those consisted only of her and Chris. Whatever this was was much more difficult to explain without getting into the shared history that joined them.
Instead, she deflected with a wry smile. “You’ll see soon enough.”
Jack didn’t push further. He gave her thigh a squeeze before letting his hand return to his lap. The silence enveloped them again, but it felt less suffocating this time.
Claire knocked on the front door, glancing impatiently at her wristwatch as muffled voices carried through the walls. The hum of conversation was familiar, comforting even.
“Coming!” someone called from inside.
A few seconds later, Jill appeared, a welcoming smile on her face as she opened the door. “Claire,” she greeted warmly, “come on in, you're the last to join us.”
The redhead scoffed, “Yeah, sorry about that. Traffic.”
“No worries,” Jill replied, stepping aside to let them in. “We’ve still got hours till midnight.”
Jack followed close behind, a bag of drinks in hand. He offered Jill a polite smile. “Evening, Jill.”
“Oh, Jack,” Jill said, her brows lifting slightly. “Didn’t know you’d be joining us.” Her tone was friendly but caught off guard.
Jack opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Chris entered the kitchen, lighting up when he saw his sister. “Claire!” he exclaimed, hugging her before she could protest. “It’s been ages.”
She just chuckled, rolling her eyes fondly and patting his back. “Calm down, I saw you last week.”
Chris let go, ruffling her hair. “Yeah, yeah.” His gaze shifted to Jack, his expression mirroring Jill’s earlier surprise. “Hey, man. Didn’t know you’d be here.
“Chris,” Jack said with a friendly smile. “Good to see you.”
Claire sighed, taking the bag from Jack’s hand and setting it on the counter. “Brought champagne,” she announced, handing it to Jill.
“That’s why you’re my favorite Redfield,” the other woman replied, shooting Chris a playful smirk as she took the bottle.
“Yeah, yeah,” Chris chuckled. “Just keep it away from Moira, she thinks turning eighteen makes her immune to hangovers.”
Claire shook her head fondly, helping herself to a glass of water. “Can’t really blame her… God knows I was worse at her age.”
“Were you now?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement.
Jill and Chris exchanged a knowing look, but to Claire’s relief they held back their undoubtedly embarrassing stories.
“A little,” she shrugged, feigning innocence, earning a chuckle from Chris.
“Come on,” Jill said, nodding to the living room. “Everyone’s excited to see you.”
Chris gave Claire’s arm a quick squeeze before following Jill into the living room. Jack lingered behind, resting a hand on Claire’s waist as he gestured for her to lead the way. She shot him a soft smile before stepping forward— only to be swarmed by Barry’s oldest daughter.
“Claire!” Moira exclaimed.
“Hey, Moira,” she greeted warmly, wrapping her arms around the teenager. “How are you?”
“Bored,” Moira complained. “It’s just another day, I don’t get the fuss.”
Barry cleared his throat, approaching them with Rebecca in tow as he shook his head at his daughter's statement. “Lighten up a little, won't you?”
“Barry, Rebecca” she said fondly, smiling as she embraced them. “It’s been a while.”
“Claire!” Rebecca beamed. “We were starting to think you’d bailed.”
“Well, you know D.C traffic…” she replied, hugging the brunette. She then turned to Barry, who pulled her into a warm hug.
“Good to see you, kid,” Barry welcomed her with open arms, his gaze landing on Jack. “And who’s this?”
“Jack, sir,” he answered, offering his hand.
Barry shook his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you, Jack. Claire’s mentioned you.”
“Hopefully the good stuff,” Jack replied with a smile, earning a chuckle from both Barry and Rebecca.
Claire drifted through the apartment, her gaze scanning familiar and new faces. Jack stayed close, a steady hand on the small of her back as he endured introductions to people he didn’t know. Jill reappeared, offering them glasses of wine, which Claire accepted gratefully.
“Hey, is Sherry here already?” She asked, surprised that the girl— woman, now— hadn’t stormed in to greet her.
“She’s out grabbing more ice,” Jill replied, watching Claire closely. “She and Leon should be back any minute.”
Claire’s eyebrow shot up, her surprise watered down by the oblivious man beside her. “Oh. Didn’t know he’d be here,” she said, in the most casual tone she could muster.
“You know Sherry,” Jill said with a small smile. “She asked him to be here and so he is.”
Of course, she should’ve guessed that would be the case. The thought of being angry swirled around her mind, but she knew it was irrational. Just because her relationship with him had taken a wrong turn didn’t mean he’d be removed from her life— not with the kind of history they shared, and certainly not when there was still Sherry Birkin. Still, Claire’s fingers tightened slightly around the glass as she took a measured sip.
“Of course.”
Jill smirked knowingly but didn’t press, her attention drawn by Chris calling her over from the other side of the room. “I’ll catch you in a bit,” she said, giving Claire’s arm a quick squeeze, leaving Claire and Jack by the kitchen.
“Well, they all seem nice,” Jack said, his voice low as he leaned closer, his hand moving across her back.
She glanced at him, managing a soft smile. “They are.”
Before she could elaborate, the door swung open, carrying in the crisp winter air and the unmistakable sound of Sherry’s laughter. The warmth of the room seemed to dim, replaced by the bittersweet weight of nostalgia tied to that laugh.
Claire turned instinctively, her heart stuttering as she saw them. Sherry walked in first, cheeks flushed from the cold, her arms full with bags. Leon followed, carrying the bags of ice in one hand, his other holding the door open for her.
“Finally!” Chris’s voice came through. “What took you two so long?”
Claire froze for a beat, unable to look into his eyes but unable to look away. He hadn’t changed— still tired but steady, his presence captivating without trying. His gaze swept the room before settling on Claire. For a fleeting moment, his expression softened, a brief acknowledgement that tightened the knot in her chest. He gave her a subtle nod, sparing her from the necessity of words. She almost wanted to thank him for it.
The moment dissolved as Sherry set her bags down on the counter and rushed over, throwing her arms around Claire in an enthusiastic hug.
“Hey, Sher,” Claire whispered, holding the girl just as tightly. Over Sherry’s shoulder she caught sight of Chris handing Leon a beer, the two men drifting further into the apartment. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How’ve you been?”
“Busy,” Sherry said, pulling back with a beaming smile. “But I’m so glad to see you.”
Claire chuckled, squeezing her shoulders affectionately. “You look beautiful, I’m happy you’re here.”
“You look beautiful too,” the blonde replied with a grin, her gaze flicking over Claire’s shoulder to Jack. “And you didn’t tell me you were bringing someone.”
Claire followed her gaze, her lips curving into a faint smile. “This is Jack.”
Sherry’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, though Claire didn't miss the hint of disappointment. “Nice to meet you, Jack. I’m Sherry.”
“Pleasure’s mine, Sherry.”
Rebecca entered the kitchen, smiling at Sherry. “Not to interrupt, but you guys should really grab some food before Chris and Barry eat everything.”
Claire laughed, giving Sherry's hand a squeeze. “Better get to it.”
Jack leaned down to press a light kiss to Claire’s cheek. “I’ll grab us something. Be right back.”
“Thanks,” she said softly, watching him disappear into the crowd. She turned back to Sherry, who was watching her with a raised eyebrow. “What?”
Sherry shrugged, a contemplative look on her face. “Nothing. He-… He seems nice enough.”
“He is,” Claire replied reassuringly. She knew Sherry worried— and was definitely biased too. “He’s good to me.”
“Okay.” Sherry sighed, pouring herself a glass of whiskey. “Well, you let me know if that ever changes.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Claire bit back her laugh, instead just nodding. “And since when do you drink whiskey?”
The blonde shrugged, a cheeky smile on her face. “I guess Leon rubbed off on me a little.”
“Right,” Claire contemplated, her voice taking a bittersweet tone, pausing before making a hesitant question. “How's he been?”
Part of her wanted to not care– to shamelessly avoid him– but the most mature part of her had made peace long ago with the fact that she'd always care. Hell, she'd never wanted to cut him off entirely in the first place, she'd just stopped checking in– too blinded by anger.
Sherry tilted her head, studying Claire for a moment. The teasing glint in her eyes softened, replaced by understanding. “He's… well, you know him,” she said carefully. “But he's good.”
Claire nodded, swallowing the knot in her throat with another sip of her wine. “That's good to hear.”
“Yeah…” Sherry wanted to ask more, of course she did. But she wasn't a nosy twelve year old anymore, and so she let it go.
“Now come on, let's go get you something to eat.” She wrapped her arm around the girl's shoulders, leading her to the crowded living room.
Claire saw Jack on the other side of the room, speaking hushedly into the phone, his earlier promise of food forgotten. She forced her attention back to the table with food in front of them, mindlessly helping herself to a small portion as Sherry's voice got clouded. The laughter and chatter in the apartment felt like background noise as she tried to steady herself. Her hands moved automatically while her mind wrestled with a sense of unease.
“Claire?” Sherry's voice pulled her back, her tone taking a little concerned edge. “You okay?”
“Hmm?” She blinked. “Oh, yeah. I'm fine, just-... it's been a long day.”.
It didn't sound very convincing, but Sherry decided then, that if she wasn't as okay as she said, a distraction might be more welcome than any type of intervention.
“So…” Sherry began, “you've got any big plans for the new year? You know, besides working yourself to the bone as usual.”
Claire smiled faintly, thinking over the question for a second. “Not really, no. I guess I just hope there are less messes to clean this year.”
The girl hummed in understanding, raising her glass. “Well, cheers to that, then.”
“Yeah, cheers to that,” Claire echoed, lifting her glass too and downing the remaining wine in one swift motion.
“Oh, whatcha ladies toasting for?” Jill asked, beer in hand.
“An uneventful year, hopefully.” Claire said, her voice laced with equal parts hope and resignation as she poured herself a glass of tequila.
Jill raised an eyebrow, her curious gaze flicking between Claire and Sherry. “That’s a pretty low bar, Claire. But hey, I get what you mean.”
Claire smirked faintly, “I’m just hoping we can all get a break, y’know? No fatal outbreaks for a while… seems impossible.”
“A girl can dream.” Jill chuckled, clinking her beer bottle to Claire’s glass. “Here’s to boring, then.”
“I could do boring.” Sherry laughed softly, sipping her whiskey.
The conversation drifted to lighter topics, but Claire’s focus unintentionally strayed towards Jack. He was still on the phone, shoulders slightly hunched as he carried a conversation too secret for the lively room. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him like this, speaking quietly, stepping away at odd moments. And it wouldn’t be the first time the weight of suspicion settled on her shoulders, but she shook it off, unwilling to let it ruin the night.
The three of them sat down around the table, eating their food while they watched a rerun of a show Claire remembered watching with her mother. Her hand tightened around her glass, the liquor warming her throat but doing little to dull the knot twisting in her stomach. Jack returned a few minutes later, sliding into a seat next to Claire. His hand brushed against her arm apologetically.
“Sorry about that,” he whispered. “It was work stuff— couldn’t avoid it.”
Claire turned her head just enough to meet his eyes, searching for something— an explanation, or maybe a sign of guilt. But his face was a perfect mask of calm, unreadable and frustratingly familiar.
Her suspicion had started weeks ago— small things at first: late nights, vague answers, last minute “work trips”. She had confronted him once, knowing already what the answer was. When he’d denied it, Claire had lost all trust she once believed they could have in each other. Still, she stayed. He offered her something she’d longed for ever since she’d lost it— a warm set of arms and the illusion that she wasn’t damaged beyond repair.
“It’s fine,” she assured him, even managing a soft smile. He didn't notice the stiffness in her voice, or if he did, he didn't acknowledge it. That was his way– charming enough to smooth over the cracks but never deep enough to fix them.
Jack leaned closer, brushing a kiss against her temple. “You’re the best, y’know that?”
She hummed, the gesture feeling hollow. “Sure.”
As Jack turned to join in the conversation at the table, Claire’s gaze fell to her plate, the food untouched. She felt the old ache of loneliness creep back in, sharper now because she wasn’t alone at all.
How much Jack really knew her was still a mystery. He’d seen the parts of her she’d carefully displayed. But, every intention she’d had of letting that wall down shattered as the only man she’d come close to letting in for a second time still didn’t seem to think she was worth sticking around for.
It wasn't love, Claire knew that much. It wasn’t about self-worth, either. Claire knew she was worth more than whatever Jack was. She didn’t want his approval, didn’t need his love either, but she craved the company— no matter how shitty. And so, she stayed because leaving felt exhausting.
And yet, Claire couldn't help but glance back at Leon. He caught her gaze for a brief second before looking away, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. He looked relaxed, even as his posture carried the weight of someone who always had to be ready for something. It was second nature for him– always steady, always guarded. For a brief moment her thoughts drifted to all the times he hadn't been, all those stolen moments, that had carried on for longer than they should've, where he simply allowed himself to be. With her.
“Claire,” Jill's voice broke through her haze, her tone light but observant, “you want some more of that?” She gestured to the bottle of tequila, waiting for Claire's nod before pouring.
Claire accepted the drink with a quiet “Thanks, Jill,” her fingers curling tightly around the glass.
As the night carried on, Claire settled against Jack's side, watching as he charmingly made himself a part of their group, social in a way she'd stopped being long ago. Drink after drink blurred the edges of the room, and despite her acquired tolerance, the alcohol was starting to take its toll. The countdown to the new year was still an hour away, but Claire already felt the weight of the night pressing down on her.
“Jill, do you have a lighter?” she asked, her slightly slurred words interrupting whatever conversation had been going on.
Jill raised an amused brow at Claire's slightly tipsy tone but nodded. “Yeah, give me a sec.” She reached into a nearby drawer and tossed Claire a well-worn silver lighter. “Don't go setting anything on fire.”
Claire caught it with a faint smirk “I'll try not to.”
“Don't let Chris catch you,” Jill teased, though her eyes lingered a moment longer than usual, concern flickering in her eyes.
“I'll be fine,” Claire replied, pushing herself up from the couch a little too quickly, the alcohol making her sway. Jack's hand instinctively went to her arm to steady her.
“You ok?” he asked, his tone gentle but still grating on her nerves.
“Just need some air” she mumbled, slipping out of his grasp before he could follow. “Be right back.”
Jack nodded, leaning back into his chair. She didn't wait for a further response, making her way towards the small balcony.
The cold hit her immediately, sharp and disarming, but a relief in its own right. She closed the glass door behind her, fumbling in her pocket for a cigarette. Her fingers shook, not from the cold but from the storm swirling in her chest. She lit the cigarette with Jill's lighter, taking a deep drag as the nicotine worked to ease her nerves.
She closed her eyes, her hand frustratingly rubbing some smeared makeup from her eyes. When she opened them she focused on the smoke curling into the air, drifting away into the city below. The soft hum of laughter and music from inside barely reached her ears, replaced by the sounds of the ever busy capital– now preparing for a new year. Still, the quiet did nothing to calm her racing mind, if anything it made the turmoil louder.
But the peace didn't last long. The soft click of the balcony door startled her, body tensing reflexively. For a moment, she thought it was Jack, but when she glanced over her shoulder, she found Leon standing there instead.
He hesitated at the threshold, his expression unreadable, though there was something cautious in the way he lingered by the door. “Didn't-... didn't mean to interrupt,” he said, voice low and guarded, carrying a warmth she hadn't heard directed at her in far too long.
Claire held his gaze for a beat, her surprise giving way to something more guarded. She shook her head subtly. “You're not interrupting. Just needed to get away for a minute.”
Leon stepped onto the balcony, closing the door behind him and moving carefully, as though he didn't want to set her off. He stopped a few feet away, leaning against the railing. The faint glow of her cigarette caught his eye, as did the subtle tremor in her hand. He said nothing about it, letting the silence stretch between them– not uncomfortable but not easy either, just heavy with the weight of things left unsaid.
“It's been a while,” he finally said, his voice softer now.
Claire let out a quiet hum, her gaze fixed on the city lights. “Yeah, it has.” She took another drag, exhaling shakily. “Didn't think I'd see you tonight.”
“Didn't think you'd want to,” Leon admitted.
Her lips twitched into a humorless laugh. “I didn't, not really. But- it's fine. I'm fine.”
He studied her for a moment, not stung at all by her sincerity. “You don't look like it.”
Claire glanced at him sharply, ready to deflect, but his stare was more disarming than it was infuriating. She sighed, shaking her head as she flicked ash over the edge of the balcony. “You always did have a habit of pointing out the obvious.”
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he didn't press further. Instead, both their attentions turned to the cityscape, the silence between them shifting into something almost familiar. The silence settled comfortably now, making Claire think about how natural it still felt to have him there– too natural, considering everything.
“What brought you out here?” she asked, almost hesitantly.
Leon turned his head slightly, considering her question. “Could ask you the same thing.”
“I needed some air. That's all.”
“Fair enough.” He paused, his gaze going momentarily to the party behind them. “Sherry mentioned you were here. Thought it'd be rude not to say hi.”
“Hi,” Claire whispered dryly, though her tone held a trace of amusement. She flicked the last of her cigarette into the ashtray on the railing and crossed her arms, leaning into the cold breeze.
Leon huffed a quiet laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Hi.”
She traced the edge of the railing with her fingertips, unsure of what to say next. Dozens of questions and unspoken feelings turned in her mind, but they all felt too heavy to voice.
“You look good,” he stated, his eyes roaming over her– careful still, but much more at ease.
Claire raised an eyebrow, glancing at him. “You just said I didn't look fine two seconds ago.”
“I said you didn't look fine,” he corrected, a faint smirk on his face. “Never said you didn't look good.”
Claire scoffed, shaking her head. “Still got it in you, huh?”
“Depends. You falling for it?”
She laughed, low and genuine, despite her efforts not to. “I'm not.”
Leon's lips curled into a knowing smile, but his eyes still made Claire feel like he could see right through her. “So… Jack, was it?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.
“Yeah, Jack,” she confirmed, letting out a small breath. “That's the guy.”
“Is that… working for you?”
Claire looked away, back to the starry sky. She hadn't expected him to ask that, or maybe she had. She wasn't sure anymore. “Yeah, you could say that.”
He seemed to weigh his next words carefully. “But…?” The question wasn't casual; it was more like he was probing, trying to get a sense of how much she was willing to share.
“It’s complicated,” she sighed, looking away.
Leon nodded slightly, his gaze burning into her side. “I figured.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” he began, “that I know when something’s eating at you, even if you don’t say it.”
The words hit closer than she wanted to admit, and it made her almost angry. “I’m fine.”
Leon didn’t argue, but his silence spoke volumes. He stepped closer, leaning his shoulder against the railing next to her. The closeness wasn’t invasive, just enough to remind her that he was still there.
“Jack doesn’t know, does he?” Leon asked after a moment, his voice low but steady.
Claire glanced at him sharply, her eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”
He met her gaze unshakably, in a practiced way that settled her temper. “About what you’ve been through… Raccoon City.”
Claire wanted to deny it, to shut him down and tell him that Jack knew and loved her despite it, but she couldn’t lie— not to Leon. “He doesn't need to know.”
“Doesn’t he?” Leon pressed gently.
“Not everyone needs to carry my baggage, Leon,” she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. “I just… I just need something to feel normal for a while.”
“And does he? Make you feel normal?” He asked. “Or does he just make you feel numb?”
She laughed again, bitter this time. “You don’t get to say that. Not after—” She stopped herself, biting down on her words before they could come out.
It was the alcohol maybe, maybe it was his presence alone that made her feel so vulnerable. Still, her words came out before she could catch them. “I’m trying, Leon,” she whispered. “I’m really trying.”
“I know you are. You’ve never stopped trying, Claire. That's just who you are.”
There was something in his tone— an understanding, a faith in her that felt both comforting and unbearable. She hated how much she missed it, how much she missed him. It wasn’t fair. None of it was.
She turned to face him then, her eyes searching his face for answers. The time between them felt simultaneously eternal and nonexistent. “Why are you out here, Leon? Really?”
“Because I know you, Claire. I know you’re not fine. And I can’t just sit in there and pretend I don’t care. Not about you.”
The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and she had to look away, her breath hitching. Claire stared at him, her walls crumbling faster than she could rebuild them. She wanted to ask him so much, wanted to pour everything out, but she couldn't. She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss. The cold bit at her skin, but all she could feel was the heat of his presence.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The distant sound of fireworks broke the tension, and Claire realized with a start that midnight was approaching.
“Claire…” Leon’s voice was barely above a whisper now, but it carried more weight than anything else that night.
She shook her head, swallowing back the lump in her throat. “Don’t, Leon. Just… don’t.” Her voice cracked, betraying the exhaustion that pressed down on her – the alcohol, the night, and the memories she'd tried to bury.
“You don’t get to do this.” She turned to him sharply, her voice laced with an anger she couldn’t contain. “You don’t get to come back and act like you still know me, like you know anything about my life or how I feel.”
“I used to,” he replied softly, his gaze steady. “That doesn’t just disappear.”
“Don’t,” she cut him off again, her voice rising, more frustration bleeding through now. “Don’t do this, Leon. Just… don’t.”
For a moment she thought he might argue, might push further, but he didn't. He stayed where he was, his presence unshakeable. The distant sound of fireworks echoed through the city, marking the last moments before midnight. The cold air bit at her skin, but all she could feel was the heat of her anger.
“Just let it go,” she slurred, her voice taking a much more dangerous anger– not explosive, but quiet this time. “Please.”
Leon opened his mouth, but before he could respond, the sound of the glass door sliding open cut through the tension.
“Claire! And… oh, Leon! What’re you doing out here?” Chris’s voice boomed as he stepped onto the balcony, his tone jovial and loud enough to shatter the charged silence. “C’mon, midnight’s in a few minutes—everyone’s moving to the rooftop to watch the fireworks!”
Claire jumped at the interruption, turning away from Leon with a sharp exhale. The reprieve felt like a lifeline. She didn’t spare him another glance as she walked past Chris, her movements brisk, her emotions carefully stuffed back down.
As she stepped through the warm threshold, Jill appeared almost immediately, her arm slinging easily around Claire’s shoulders. “There you are!” Jill said brightly, pulling her close with a grin. “Thought you’d disappeared for good.”
Claire forced a small smile, the lingering tension from the balcony still gnawing at her nerves. “Just needed some air.”
Jill’s eyes flickered over her, sharp and assessing despite the casual smile on her face. “Yeah? You good?”
“Yeah,” Claire replied quickly, brushing it off. “I’m fine.”
“Let’s go, then,” Jill said, steering her toward the stairs. “We’re not missing the countdown!”
Jack appeared at the base of the staircase, his face lighting up the moment he spotted Claire. “There you are,” he said, his tone warm and easy, as though nothing in the world could touch them. “Was starting to wonder if you’d bailed on me.”
Claire shook her head, the corners of her mouth lifting into a small, tired smile. “Wouldn’t do that,” she murmured, stepping toward him. His arm slid around her waist, and for a moment, she let herself lean into him.
Leon followed at a distance, his expression unreadable as he watched the two of them. He hung back near the doorway, his eyes lingering on Claire longer than they should have.
Jack’s hand brushed against hers, grounding her in a way that felt both comforting and hollow. “Come on, let’s get up there,” he said, guiding her toward the stairs with an easy confidence.
As they ascended to the rooftop, the sound of the city grew louder—the distant rumble of voices, car horns, and the crackle of fireworks. Claire stayed close to Jack, her steps steady despite the alcohol coursing through her. But she couldn’t shake the weight of Leon’s presence, the tension still clinging to her like a second skin.
“Ten! Nine! Eight!”
The countdown began, and despite being surrounded by familiar faces, Claire felt like a stranger even to herself
Jack’s voice broke her thoughts. “Hey, look at that view. This city knows how to put on a show.”
She smiled faintly, glancing toward the skyline as fireworks began lighting up the horizon. Her fingers curled into Jack’s jacket, grounding herself in his warmth, in his normalcy.
“Seven! Six! Five!”
A glass of champagne was pushed to her hand by Rebecca, and Claire took it gratefully.
“Four! Three! Two!”
And as the clock struck midnight and the cheers erupted around them, Claire acted on pure instinct. Before she could really stop herself her arms were around Jack, pulling him into a kiss more passionate that she’d have allowed herself had she been sober. The noise of the rooftop faded into the background as his hands settled on her waist, steady and sure, pulling her closer.
But as the fireworks exploded in the sky above, the kiss felt more like an escape than a celebration. She pulled back slightly, scanning his face and looking almost disappointed.
“Happy New Year,” Jack whispered, giving her that charming smile that almost made her forget why she’d ever consider leaving.
Claire forced a smile in return, her hands dropping to his chest. “Happy New Year.”
Around them, laughter and shouts of excitement echoed into the night. Jill and Chris exchanged a loud toast, their glasses clinking over the din. Rebecca stood nearby, smiling faintly as Barry wrapped his daughters into a big bear hug. He fumbled for his phone, already preparing to call his wife.
Claire tried to soak it in, to ground herself in the moment, but her gaze betrayed her. It drifted again— inevitably, stupidly— to Leon.
He was near the edge of the rooftop, just breaking off a hug with Sherry, his arm still draped protectively around her shoulder as she talked animatedly. The sight of him was disarming in its simplicity. He looked… at ease. Claire hated that it made her chest tighten.
“Claire?” Jack’s voice pulled her back.
She blinked, forcing her focus back to him. “Yeah?”
“You okay?” His brow furrowed slightly, concern creeping into his voice.
She nodded quickly, plastering on a smile. “Yeah. Just... a lot of champagne.”
Jack chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You’ve barely had a sip.” That wasn’t really true, she’d been drinking all night, he just hadn’t noticed.
Claire laughed softly, the sound not quite reaching her eyes. “Guess I’m just tired.”
He seemed to accept that, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I can see that.”
She nodded, lingering in his touch for a second. “I’ll go say New Year’s to everyone.”
Chris was the first to pull her into a bear hug, his voice loud and unapologetically boisterous as he rambled on about how quickly time was flying by. She laughed, patting his back as he squeezed her a little too tightly.
Jill followed, far more composed but still visibly tipsy, her smile wide as she raised a toast with Claire. “Another year, Redfield,” she said, clinking their glasses.
Barry and Moira were next, wishing her well with their usual warmth. Kathy and Polly’s voices came through Barry’s phone, their New Year’s wishes echoing over the rooftop.
Finally, Sherry disentangled herself from Leon’s side, stumbling forward with all the grace of someone several drinks past their limit. She threw herself into Claire’s arms, clinging to her with a sloppy, unsteady embrace. “Happy New Year, Claire!” she exclaimed, her voice shaking as a fresh wave of tears welled up. Her face was blotchy, streaked with mascara, her emotions spilling over in the way only too much champagne could bring out.
“Hey, Sher,” Claire said softly, wrapping her arms around her and steadying her as best she could. “Happy New Year.”
Sherry pulled back slightly, hiccupping as she wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “Can you believe it’s…” Her words faltered, her brow furrowing deeply as she tried to grasp the thought.
She turned toward Leon, who hadn’t moved far and was watching her with a mixture of fondness and amusement. “What year is it again?”
“2009, Sher,” Leon supplied smoothly, the corners of his mouth twitching as he held back a smile.
“Right,” she said, nodding vigorously. “I knew that.”
Claire laughed softly, pulling Sherry back into a hug to keep her upright. She glanced up at Leon, raising an eyebrow. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
Leon met her gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment before a small smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It really is.”
Sherry sniffled loudly, oblivious to the charged silence that passed between the two of them. “I just love you both so much,” she slurred, her arms flinging out to gesture at them both.
Claire chuckled, keeping her arms steady around her so she wouldn’t stumble. “It’s ok to cry, Sherry. We both love you too.”
Leon rubbed the girl’s back, showing quiet support but not speaking past the laughter he was trying to contain. “Yeah, we both do.”
“I just-…” Sherry sniffled, “wouldn’t be here without the two of you and I-…” she choked on a sob, burying her face on Claire’s chest.
Claire’s amusement softened into something warmer, more protective. She rubbed Sherry’s back in slow, soothing circles. “Hey, hey,” she murmured, her voice steady despite the grin she couldn’t entirely hide. “You’re just a little drunk, sweetheart. Let’s get you some water.”
Sherry sniffled, pulling back reluctantly but still leaning heavily on Claire for balance. “Water’s boring,” she muttered, pouting like a child.
Leon stepped in, gently taking Sherry’s arm to steady her other side. “Not as boring as passing out before 1 a.m.,” he quipped, his tone teasing but kind.
Claire shot him a grateful glance as they began guiding Sherry toward the staircase. The party noise dimmed slightly as they moved inside, the chill of the rooftop replaced by the warmth of the house.
“I’m fine, you know,” Sherry protested, though her unsteady walk said otherwise.
“Of course you are,” Claire replied, humoring her as they reached the kitchen. She grabbed a glass, filling it with water and handing it to Sherry. “Drink this. All of it.”
Sherry pouted but obeyed, sipping at the glass while leaning against the counter.
Leon leaned beside her, his hands in his pockets, watching her closely. “Feel better?”
Sherry nodded dramatically, setting the empty glass down with a clink. “So much better.”
“Good,” Claire said, her tone half amused, half relieved. She reached out, smoothing a hand over Sherry’s hair. “Why don’t you sit down for a bit? Take a break from all the champagne.”
Sherry groaned but let them guide her to a couch. She slumped into it, her head leaning against Leon’s shoulder as he sat down next to her. “I’ve missed you both so much,” she cried.
Leon patted her head in an almost comically awkward gesture. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve missed you too,” he said soothingly.
Claire exchanged a look with him, who shrugged slightly. “She’ll be out in five minutes,” he whispered.
Sherry shook her head stubbornly, but didn’t really argue against it. Claire chuckled, watching her with equal parts nostalgia and adoration.
Sherry shook her head stubbornly, though her eyelids were already drooping. “I’m not going to sleep,” she muttered, her voice thick with drowsiness.
Claire chuckled, watching her with a mixture of nostalgia and affection. “Sure you’re not.” Sherry had come so far, but in moments like this, she was still the same kid they’d fought to protect, trusting them with her life up until that day.
The sound of footsteps drew Claire’s attention, and she turned to see Jack strolling into the kitchen. His easy grin was in place, but his eyes flickered between Sherry, Claire, and Leon before settling on her. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Claire said quickly, straightening up. “Just making sure Sherry survives the night.”
Jack chuckled, moving to Claire’s side and slipping a hand around her waist. “Alright…” His tone was light, but his gaze lingered on Leon for a minute too long.
Then, lowering his voice, Jack gently tugged Claire aside. “Listen,” he began, scratching the back of his neck like he always did when he was trying to soften something. “Nick called me. Said some of the guys are meeting up at his place, and I figured I’d swing by.”
“Oh?” Claire tilted her head, the surprise in her voice genuine but devoid of hurt. Truthfully, she doubted he was heading to Nick’s or anyone else’s house for that matter, but the realization didn’t sting as much as it should have. Instead, it left her feeling oddly numb, and even relieved that he was leaving.
“Are you planning on driving?” she asked, her voice even.
Jack let out a small sigh of relief at her lack of protest. “Yeah, I haven’t had much to drink, since I was gonna drive us back anyways. I figured maybe you could stay over at Jill’s?”
Claire narrowed her eyes at him, though there was more resignation than anger in her expression. “Sure, Jack. Go wherever you want. I’ll figure it out.”
For a moment, Jack hesitated, perhaps expecting more pushback. But when Claire simply turned her attention back toward Sherry and Leon, he nodded awkwardly. “Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Yeah,” Claire replied absently, already halfway out of the conversation.
Jack hesitated for half a second, but when Claire made no move to argue, he nodded. “Thanks, babe.” Jack pressed a quick kiss to her temple before heading out, leaving the faint scent of his cologne behind. Claire exhaled deeply, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly now that he was gone.
Behind her, Leon’s voice broke the quiet. “Well,” he said dryly, “that seemed… festive.”
Claire turned back to him, her eyes glaring daggers but the anger from before much more faded. “Don’t start,” she cautioned.
“Wasn’t planning to.” Leon raised his hands innocently, though his eyes sparkled with amusement.
Still half-asleep, half-drunk, Sherry looked up from Leon's shoulder. “Are you guys fighting again?” she whined, brand new tears forming in her eyes.
Claire and Leon exchanged a glance, both caught off guard. It took every ounce of restraint not to burst out laughing at her drunken outburst.
“No, Sherry—” Claire started, her voice as gentle as she could manage.
“We’re not—” Leon chimed in, his tone equally soft.
“Okay,” Sherry sniffled, her concern evaporating as quickly as it had appeared. She slumped back into Leon’s shoulder, snuggling closer as her eyelids fluttered shut.
Claire shook her head fondly, sitting on the edge of the couch. “She’s going to feel this tomorrow.”
“Definitely.” He chuckled, the silence lingering for a second before he spoke again. “If you need a ride home, I’ve got you,” he said quietly.
Claire hesitated, her eyes meeting his for a long moment. “Thanks. I might take you up on that.” She sighed, glancing at Sherry. “I think I’ll just bring her back to my place instead of trying to figure out which hotel she’s staying at.”
“Good call,” Leon replied, shifting slightly to make Sherry more comfortable without waking her.
The next hour passed in a blur. Claire floated between brief conversations with Rebecca and some of the other lingering guests, while Leon stayed anchored on the couch, Sherry still draped over him. By the time the clock edged past two, the house was quieting, the energy from earlier finally winding down.
Leon nudged Claire’s shoulder gently, his voice low but insistent. “Claire. Come on, let’s get going. You look like you’re about to pass out too.”
Claire blinked at him, realizing just how heavy her limbs felt. “Yeah,” she murmured, brushing a hand through her hair. “Let’s go.”
After gently waking Sherry up, Claire made her way towards Chris, rubbing his back to get his attention back from whatever conversation he was having with Barry.
“Leaving already?” he asked, his words slightly slurred.
“Yeah,” Claire replied. “Sherry’s about five seconds from passing out completely.”
Chris nodded, throwing an arm around Claire and squeezing her tightly. “Happy New Year, Claire. Love you.” If he noticed Jack's absence, he didn't comment. Which made her grateful for the amount of alcohol consumed.
“Love you too, Chris,” Claire said, patting his back affectionately. “Take it easy, okay?”
Jill appeared next, still holding her glass of champagne. “You’re taking off?” she asked, her sharp eyes flicking toward Sherry. “Good call. She’s going to hate life tomorrow.”
“Yeah, she’ll survive,” Claire said with a small laugh.
“Call me tomorrow,” Jill said, her demanding finger signaling that she'd probably caught on to more than Claire wanted her to. Jill hugged her tightly. “And let me know you got home safe.”
“Will do.”
Barry and Rebecca chimed in with their farewells, the former offering a hearty pat on Leon’s back. “Take care of them, Kennedy,” Barry said, his tone half-teasing, half-serious.
Leon nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Always do.”
As they headed for the door, Claire glanced over her shoulder one last time at the group of familiar faces, the laughter and warmth filling the room despite the late hour. A pang of nostalgia hit her, but she shook it off. “Let’s go.”
Leon helped guide Sherry out to his car, slipping his jacket off and draping it over her shoulders. She mumbled a thank-you before leaning heavily against him, as he carefully settled her into the back seat before opening the passenger door for Claire. “Ready?” he asked as she climbed in.
“Yeah,” she said, buckling her seatbelt as he walked to the driver's seat.
The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine and the occasional pop of leftover fireworks filling the silence. Sherry mumbled incoherently from the backseat, but Claire kept her gaze on the passing lights outside.
“You okay?” Leon asked, glancing at her briefly.
Claire sighed, her breath fogging up the window. “Yeah. Just... a lot to think about.” When they arrived at her apartment building, Leon parked the car, offering to help her inside, which Claire refused, already unbuckling her seatbelt and leaning backwards to wake Sherry up. “It's ok, I got her.”
Leon hesitated, stepping out to help them. “Just let me walk you inside.”
Claire rolled her eyes, not unkindly, and didn’t argue, her focus on guiding Sherry toward the building’s entrance. Leon followed close behind, his presence solid and reassuring as they navigated the short walk inside. When they reached her door, Claire unlocked it and led Sherry to the couch, helping her settle under a blanket.
“She’s out cold,” Claire said softly, glancing down at Sherry’s peaceful face.
Leon chuckled quietly. “Figured as much.”
Claire turned to him, her expression softening. “Thanks for the ride. And for sticking around.”
He shrugged, offering a small smile. “Anytime.”
They stood in the doorway for a moment, neither speaking as the weight of the night hung between them. Finally, Leon broke the silence. “You sure you’re okay?”
Claire nodded, a faint, tired smile on her lips. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.”
He lingered, unsure what else he could say. “Well, if you're not… You know where to find me.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I do.”
“Happy New Year, Claire,” he said, “hope it's good to you.” Claire nodded, offering him a smile more genuine than she cared to admit.
“Happy New Year, Leon… I'll see you around.”
“Yeah. Don't be a stranger.”