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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
Six months after Raccoon City and three after Rockfort, Claire and Leon reunite for one quiet night. Caught between past trauma and an uncertain future, the two learn they might not have to face it alone.
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Leon gets a call from Claire in the middle of the night and offers her the best reassurance he can as she shares her worries and guilt over the past.
Written for Cleon Year 2026; February prompt: Late Night Calls
Fun fact! I almost wrote this for the vulnerability prompt for January but decided to go with the other idea instead.
Also I do fully intend to properly catch up with the prompts over the next few months. I'm taking a week off work at the end of this month that will hopefully help, and fingers crossed, a lot of other stuff has settled down for me.
Rating: T | Fandom: Resident Evil | Pairing: Claire/Leon | Read on Ao3 | Content Warning: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
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It was too dark for Leon’s alarm to be going off. He blinked a few times in confusion before rolling over to look at the time. It was only a little past two in the morning, why…? Oh. It wasn’t his alarm, it was his phone. With a groan, he reached over to grab it, fully prepared to ignore whatever spam call woke him up and go back to sleep, but the caller ID made him bolt upright and answer. “Claire?” Adrenaline sent his heartbeat into his throat.
“Leon?”
His fingertips went numb as he reached around for his gun, vaguely wondering if it was even safe for him to drive right now. Didn’t matter. “Are you alright? Where are you?” He was pretty sure his keys were in the pocket of his jeans he’d been wearing earlier that day, which he should probably put on before he got into his car, now that he thought about it.
“Yeah. I mean, no, but I’m okay. I’m just in my apartment. Nothing’s happened. I was just… Sorry, this is stupid, I shouldn’t have called.” He heard shuffling on the other end of the line.
“No, hey, it’s fine.” Leon sat back down on his bed and placed his gun back on his bedside table. He took in a slow, deep breath he hoped wasn’t picked up by the phone. His hands were still shaking. “What’s wrong?”
There was silence, but no dial tone. And then, “Are you sure this isn’t a bad time?”
Leon glanced at his clock. He had about four hours before he had to get up. His head was already starting to get that achy, almost fuzzy feeling he always got with mild hangovers, only somewhat chased away by the adrenaline rush. “Yeah, it’s fine.” He licked his dry lips. “What’s going on?”
“Are you sure?” Her voice was so quiet.
“Yeah.”
There was a long pause and a little more shuffling. “How are you?”
“Claire…” A small smile tugged at his lips, shaking his head slightly as an uncomfortable feeling settled in his stomach.
“Sorry! It just feels weird to jump right into—I mean, I’m sure I woke you up, and I feel bad, and—”
“I’m doing fine.” Leon laid back and put his head on the pillow, pulling his feet back up on the bed and stretching out into a more relaxed position. Most of the anxiety had left his system by now. “It was a long day, but nothing I can’t handle.” His muscles still ached from it, and he knew there was only more waiting for him. “How are you?”
“I’m…” He heard her let out a small sigh. “I saw Sherry today.”
“How is she?” he asked softly as guilt squeezed his chest. He still hadn’t gotten around to seeing her. And it had been well over two years at this point. She had to be around fourteen now, but in his mind, whenever he thought of her—which was often, despite the lack of contact—she was still that little girl with the wide, terrified eyes and debris smudged on her hands and face, still wearing Claire’s jacket. If he thought about it hard enough, he could still feel her arms tightly wrapped around his neck before some government official took her away.
“She’s…” Claire let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “She fucking hates it there, Leon.”
It was as if someone had punched him in the gut. “But at least she’s safe, right?”
The long pause didn’t do anything to help his uneasy feeling. “I guess. Relatively.” Leon thought he could hear her sniffle on the other end. “She said she feels like a lab rat.”
“They’re not supposed to do experiments on her,” he said, blood running cold. “That was the deal. That’s why—”
“They don’t do experiments on her,” Claire said, and Leon could imagine her expression clearly. It would be the same disgusted one she always wore whenever they talked about the things they had been through and the things they’re still going through. “They do research.”
He brought a hand up to his face, rubbed his eyes, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. He wanted to yell. Or kick something. Hell, he was half ready to make the long drive to Simmons’ and break Sherry out himself. He didn’t deserve to be her caretaker if he was going to let them exploit a bullshit loophole. But that wasn’t what Claire needed right now. “I’m so sorry.”
Claire took in a breath so shaky he could hear it through the phone. “Is it my fault?”
Leon’s hand stilled before he dropped it to his side. “What?” he asked, brow furrowing. “No.” He shook his head despite knowing she couldn’t see it. “No. Why would you think that?”
“Because maybe if I had stayed, we could have figured something out.” Her voice was incredibly close to breaking.
“Your brother needed you,” he reminded her. “I’m sure Chris is pretty grateful you left when you did.”
“Even if I had just stayed a day or two longer. Maybe that could have made a difference.” Leon heard another sniffle come through the receiver. “Then maybe Sherry could just be a normal student. And maybe you wouldn’t have a job you hate.”
He sat up in his bed, blinking several times in the dark. “How do you know that? I never told you about that.”
“Well, first of all, Chris knows some things. He didn’t say too much, but I can put two and two together. Give me a little credit,” she said with a watery chuckle. “And also, yeah, you did tell me about it. About a year after everything happened.”
“When did I do that?” he asked, already half knowing the answer. Guilt pooled in his stomach, making his mouth taste coppery. He could probably get to the trash can if he needed to. “I don’t remember telling you.”
“Yeah, you probably don’t remember.” More shuffling on the other end—he imagined her shifting to the other end of the loveseat he had seen exactly once, switching the phone to her other ear. “You sounded pretty drunk.”
Heat rushed to Leon’s face, and he was glad she wasn’t here to see him. “Claire, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t worry about it.” He could hear the smile creeping into her voice. “It was actually one of the nicer drunk calls I’ve gotten over the years. At least you weren’t trying to get into my pants.”
“No, I was just worrying you and making you feel like my life was your responsibility,” he replied, making a point to ignore the last bit at the risk of his face burning even more than it already was.
“You’re allowed to make me worry. Sherry, Chris, and you. In that order.” Her tone was teasing, but the sadness from before was starting to come back.
“You don’t have to worry about me. Please.” Leon tried to not think about the half empty bottle on his bedside table or how bruised his ribs were feeling.
The long pause on the other end left a lump in his throat. “But I do,” she said. “And I will.”
He shook his head, hair falling into his eyes. “Don’t,” he said with a dry chuckle. “There’s a lot more important things to worry about.”
“Leon.” It was almost scolding, and for a moment, he wanted nothing more than to have her next to him.
“Anyway,” he said, face heating up again, “you didn’t do anything wrong. And I know that’ll be hard for you to believe right now, trust me. But it doesn’t mean it’s any less true.” The words worsened the feeling in his stomach. Leon shook his head to clear out the memories of the same being said to him, not wanting to think about it now or honestly ever. Hopefully Claire would be more receptive to them. His head was really starting to hurt.
“But how can you be sure?” Her voice wavered again through the phone. “And what about…?”
He waited a few moments before prompting, “And what about what?”
The pause seemed to drag on forever. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
“Claire, if you’re going to insist that you worry about me, I really have no choice but to return the favor.” As if there was any universe where he didn’t worry about her. “What is it?”
She took so long to respond that he almost had to ask again, but eventually in the quietest voice she said, “What about Rockfort Island? Did I do enough there? Could I have tried harder to save him?” It started off slow, but then the words were tumbling out of her mouth as her voice pitched higher and her breaths came in short bursts. “And it’s so stupid, because you weren’t even there, so there’s no way you could know. And I don’t even know why I’m worried about it again right now. It’s not even the anniversary or anything, and it’s not like Sherry was even there, so I don’t know why seeing her today made me think of him. Except that it’s just another thing I fucked up and couldn’t fix and it’s all my fault and—” All he could hear were her sobs on the other end of the line.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he said softly, cradling the phone with both hands against his face as if that would help. There was a gaping hole in his chest and bile in the back of his throat as his limbs ran cold. “You’re okay.” Why hadn’t he ever asked her about any of this? He had seen her and Chris shortly after—both with bruises, scabs, and an all too familiar look in their eyes—and neither seemed too eager to talk about what had happened. Every other time they had managed to meet up, she had always seemed so put together, like nothing could ever get to her. He should have known better.
“He practically died in my arms,” she managed to croak out.
Leon felt fingertips slipping through his. “Claire, I’m so sorry.” His voice felt embarrassingly thick.
The sobs subsided to hiccups and sniffles after a bit. “He had been infected. So I know that at that point he wasn’t making it back. But…”
“But it doesn’t make it any easier,” he finished for her. Cold metal in his hands, gunshots ringing in his ears. “It really doesn’t.”
“He saved my life. He really did. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. Probably ten times over. But I couldn’t save him.” Claire took in a deep breath, and he imagined she was wiping her face with her hand.
“I’m so sorry.” He curled in on himself, free arm snaking around his middle as if it was the only thing holding him together. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”
“How do you deal with it?” she asked. “The guilt?”
I don’t. Very poorly. With lots of alcohol. None of those were helpful, even if they were true for him. “One day at a time,” he finally settled on. “One night at a time. Sometimes even one minute at a time. Some days are better than others.”
A loud sniffle and a small whimper came through the phone.
“Talking about it can also help sometimes. So don’t hesitate to call. Even if it’s two in the morning,” he said with a smile.
Claire let out a quiet, tearful laugh, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Thank you, Leon,” she said softly, voice still thick with emotion. “I should probably let you get to sleep, sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” The tightness in his chest was starting to ease. “We should try and meet up again, too, sometime.” Hugs help. Holding your hand would help. Falling asleep in each other’s arms would definitely help.
“That would be amazing.” She let out a yawn.
“Get some sleep,” he said with a chuckle. “And Claire?” Leon’s mind wandered back to that dingy hotel room. “I know you. You did everything you possibly could given the situations.”
“Thank you, Leon,” she said, voice dangerously close to breaking again. “Goodnight.”
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I feel like Claire sings to herself while doing chores around the house, especially when she thinks she's alone. Maybe she's a little self conscious about it but Leon loves to hear her sing (whether she's good at it or not, but I think she'd have a nice voice). He tries to encourage her to do it more but she's a little too shy but as their relationship goes on she gets more and more confident, at least she does around him. Leon doesn't really sing much, mostly just humming along as he listens to Claire.
On the other hand, both of them are terrible dancers and have no shame whatsoever about it.
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