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Claire Redfield was well aware that it spoke neither for hers nor her brother’s lifestyle, that not staring down the barrel of a gun, upon opening a door she’d been handed a key to, had her disconcerted. It also didn’t speak for the Redfield siblings’ life choices that the sight of the empty foyer prompted her to reach for her own weapon, clearing the entire first floor and checking for any signs of a struggle before even thinking of calling out.
“Leon?” He should be home. Safekeeping her idiot brother’s happiness was the sole reason she’d risked getting shot six hours before dinner. That and her quest for an updated photo of Chris in an apron to be sent to the pack group chat, due payment for her touching base with Leon, Chris never so much as uttering an actual request. Instead, variants of “I’m sure my husband would be happy to see you” had featured repeatedly in a suspiciously regular stream of calls, Leon no doubt bullying Chris back into contact after that fiasco of a homecoming.
Not that Claire minded checking in on Leon. God no, even if he proved to be in one of his less than cooperative moods, she’d come fully prepared to coax him onto the couch and tease him over his new obsession with one Francesca Bridgerton, while stuffing him full of ‘Thank god you are a crazy son of a bitch who found us a cure’ cake.
Claire Redfield had some practice wrangling a DSO agent with too much covert experience under his belt to do anyone any good. And as past experiences had proven, the best way to keep him from pulling the “Feel like a million bucks card” was to force him into the most disgustingly mundane of activities till that neat little mask he so frequently pulled on began to crack. Leon operated great under pressure, but God forbid you put the DSO’s diamond of all seasons on a shelf for too long. Chances were he’d eventually turn back into coal.
Though Claire couldn’t deny that Leon was scary good at convincing her brother that he was still nigh indestructible. She’d lost count of the amount of times Chris had called her in a frenzy because he’d gotten blinded by those dazzling sapphire eyes and overlooked Leon walking himself right off the next cliff, leaving him this close to, best case scenario, crawl back into a bottle or, worst case, come up with some blaze of glory way to take himself out.
Leon meant well, of course, he did, and it hadn’t happened ever since the betrothal. But that didn’t make him any less of an idiot for thinking all of them could just merrily go on with their lives if only he found a plausible enough way to remove himself from it.
Knowledge that made the all-consuming silence surrounding her all the more damming. She seriously hoped Chris had rung a false alarm. Then again, if half of the classified shit he shouldn’t have so much as hinted at was true, Claire also understood her brother’s concern. Forcing Leon of all people back into Raccoon City… well, let it be said that it was a good thing he had been there trying to save Grace and not actively looking for an underground lab, whose existence proved that all the people he thought he’d failed to save hadn’t even died for some greater good but because someone had been eager to preserve assets.
Claire had always told him that that suit didn’t suit him… it was just unfortunate that it had taken all of them too long to realize that he didn’t have much choice in the matter. And now… well, now the DSO had mostly dropped the leash and regularly threw Leon enough of a dollar-sign-shaped bone to ensure they had someone to sic on the kind of guys even a pack of wolves might not be able to bring down without severe casualties. Which left her to wonder what the DSO would do now that Leon had practically ripped off the hand that fed him after it had slapped him over the head one time too many.
Claire placed the cakebox on the kitchen counter, contemplating her next steps, the ongoing silence making her somewhat unwilling to holster her gun just yet. In light of all the shit that had gone down in the past months with her being conveniently stuck on the other end of the globe while her brother and brother-in-law allegedly saw it resolved, it wasn’t all that hard to come up with worst-case scenarios. Such as her having to break into some government facility to get Leon, Chris or both out of custody because a year without someone from the Redfield-Kennedy household pissing off some alphabet agency was usually a year that doubled down on the world-ending scenarios. And thus far, 2026 had only offered the one Grace and Leon had prevented.
At least the reminder of how close they were to New Year’s Eve came with the realization that this wasn’t the 20th but the 21st century, and she could just call a guy who might well be out grocery shopping on Chris’ behest… or taking a nap aided by meds she would be surprised but not displeased to learn he’d actually taken.
She pressed the call button and, lo and behold, something above her head made an audible thump. Although the giggles at the telltale guitar riff of Scotty Doesn’t Know dispersed any humorous images of a sleepy Leon falling flat on his face trying to get out of bed. The reality was much better anyway because, despite whatever other shit Leon had gone through to take care of their little girl, that laughter was a firm reminder that he’d just acquired two more reasons to keep moving forward. Why Chris had thought trying to break things off with Leon to protect Rose was a better call than just plopping the girl in his husband’s lap and watching him go full Mama Dog mode still beat Claire, but she sure was glad her brother had married the one guy who could out-loyal a Redfield.
Upstairs, a door opened, and a voice she had thus far only had the pleasure to hear over video-call declared, “Aunty Claire, we are in our room!”
And thus “Scotty” took the steps two at once, trying not to smile at the memory of her brother failing miserably at carpentry. This house all she’d ever needed to know about her brother’s new obsession with that “washed up wanna be Fox Mulder”, Chris going about renovating the place with the desperation of someone who had yet to realize that Leon would have found an excuse to end up in Chris’ hotel room every damn day if necessary.
Halfway up, the stupid ringtone finally cut off. And some more giggles later, she finally heard Leon’s voice from what had once been a guest room, but was now the reason a conveniently prolonged call with her brother had ended with Leon smearing pastel paint all over the lazy fuck’s face. Though in Chris’ defense, he’d initially gone about renovating the place with seal, but not even he would claim to be particularly good at it. A circumstance that, according to Chris’ husband, did not excuse him from at least standing in the way and looking good with Leon’s utility belt in hand.
“Sorry, Claire.” The guy she still couldn’t quite believe was now her brother-in-law paused for dramatic effect, eliciting some more giggling from two girls she was damn sure had the very best childhood ahead of them. “I am being held under duress.” And going by Leon’s self-deprecating if fond chuckle, this was going to be sooo good. Gun firmly back in its holster and phone still in hand, Claire opened her camera app.
Setting foot onto the second floor, she spotted one of two blond, blue-eyed little girls, waiting half-hidden behind the doorframe, finger gun lowered in perfect mimicry of their current hostage. If Emily had taken this quickly to being part of the Redfield-Kennedy household, Claire didn’t want to imagine how far Leon’s plans regarding the remodeling of the garage had progressed without dear Grace being any the wiser.
Stopping at the top of the stairs and raising her hands for good measure, Claire couldn’t help the answering smile as Emily grinned at her before poking her head back into the room, her silent plea answered by the low rumble of Leon’s voice.
“Did you bring the ra…” Emily looked back into the room, brow wrinkled, lips moving to mimic Leon’s, “ran… ransom?”
Leave it to a former police Rookie to teach seven-year-old kids the basics of close-quarter combat and words such as ‘ransom’. No doubt, Leon would have been the life of any drug safety drill in middle school.
“It’s waiting to be collected downstairs,” Claire called back, trying to angle her head in a way that would allow her to see into the room… not that either Leon or Chris would have been able to sleep in a house where that was possible. For all her experience in dealing with apocalyptic events and being dragged into downright special ops missions, she still would never get over the justification both of them had for the huge bulletproof glass window offering a perfect view of the living room downstairs.
After exchanging another look with Leon, Emily nodded sagely, lowering her finger gun. Yet, before Claire could take a step closer, a second blond head appeared behind Rose, Emily beaming at Claire from across her playmate’s shoulder with disarming enthusiasm. She should have known it was a trap; the smile looked a little too familiar.
“Did you check the spelling?” Emily asked.
“I swear, Leon,” Claire burst out, making both girls giggle. “If you asked Sherry to hack into my bank account again...”
“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” Leon huffed, wise enough not to show his face after using Emily to remind her that he’d always been a horrible influence on Sherry. “All that poking her nose in people’s business? She gets it from you.”
Alright, a bad influence with a point.
“What was she even looking for?” Claire scoffed.
“A means to ensure your good standing in this house.” Claire tried really hard not to roll her eyes in front of her niece and grandniece, unwilling to give Leon more ammunition to talk about the precedent she was setting. “Because your brother keeps complaining that you never contribute anything to family dinner. So, your darling daughter needed to know whether or not to buy you an alibi cake.”
Claire was about to retort when Rose lost her patience, her little feet rushing across the hardwood floor so she could grab and excitedly tug on Claire’s arm to get her moving. “Come and look what Emily and I did!”
“Oh yes,” Leon said with the same chuckle as before, Emily quickly ducking back into the room. “You are going to love this.”
Positioning her finger to ensure she’d walk away from this with nothing short of proper blackmail material, Claire let herself be led into Rose’s room. On any other day, the bright pink unicorn rug, which she’d already seen on a very shaky room tour, would have been a real eye-catcher. But, right now, all Claire could see was the 5’11 DSO senior agent, built like a brick wall, who was absolutely covered in glitter, his perfect hair parted into dozens of tiny, uneven braids, and his neck adorned by a fluorescent unicorn band aid. If Leon had a single ounce of shame in his body, no one would have been able to tell, sitting ramrod straight with his legs crossed, while Rose dropped Claire’s arm to rush over and join Emily in presenting their masterpiece with outstretched arms.
Trying to keep a straight face, Claire pressed out. “You look absolutely beautiful, Redfield.”
“Beautiful?” Leon motioned at his sparkling face. “This is the skin of a killer, Claire.”
This guy. Sherry definitely got being a bad influence from him. Served him right that she was making up for lost time by cramming his head full of key girlhood media from a generation neither of them belonged to.
“Papa’s so pretty, isn’t he, aunty Claire?” Rose chimed, and fortunately, both girls’ attention was fully on Claire because Leon’s face did some real funny things before those big blue puppy eyes went all glassy, his lips turned up in the most unabashed smile she’d ever seen. And she’d witnessed this man confess his undying love in a half-hour-long speech, sober as the day could be, in front of a room nearly filled to the brim with guys and gals who infiltrated and blew up shit for a living. No eye had stayed dry that day, and Leon made sure to remind them of it every chance he got.
“Jup, ‘Papa’s’ a real looker,” Claire huffed, watching Leon blink rapidly as he struggled to get to his feet.
Yup, that was definitely the first time Rose had sprung that on him. Well, Kennedy, that’s what you get for enlisting Ethan Winter’s daughter to convince my brother that chocolate-chip-cooky-pancakes can be served for breakfast, lunch and dinner. This was a premeditated attack, Claire having heard Rose use that very word on the phone a few days ago when the little evil genius had been testing the waters with ‘daddy’, better known as Claire’s idiot brother by the name of Chris. If Leon played nice during his welfare check, Claire might even show him the screen recording of her brother valiantly fighting tears while Rose looked on in puzzlement.
“Gonna make me ruin my makeup for the evening, Red,” Leon muttered, smile not faltering one bit as Emily’s little hand wrapped around his middle and ring finger while Rose tugged on his sleeve, genuine compassion but the same kind of puzzlement as with Chris wrinkling her face.
“Papa?”
“Just overwhelmed with how pretty I am, that’s all,” Leon tried to reassure, unable to raise either arm to hide behind, which, going by the determination with which his little captors held fast, probably was the point.
“Daddy said it’s alright to cry,” Rose offered, making Leon laugh.
“Smartest thing your Daddy’s said besides, ‘I do’.”
It spoke for Leon’s knack with children that, somehow, that made both girls smile, in spite of his ongoing attempts to blink away the wetness gathering at the corners of his eyes.
“Oh, I’m sure the sight of you will bring him right to his knees again,” Claire huffed.
“Papa said he can only wear one braid at dinner, and he has to remove the glitter.” Rose paused, looking at Leon, who put on an encouraging grin.
It was the only warning Claire got, and she still walked right into the trap. “Why?”
Closing her eyes, Rose sang in near-perfect mimicry of a certain music icon. “When papa walks in the room, he already makes the whole place shiiiiiimmeeeeer.”
Thank God no one had ever put Leon I-read-Jane-Austin-for-fun-and-am-apparently-a-secret-Swifty S. Kennedy in an English classroom, or there would have been an entire school’s worth of kids talking in nothing but pop culture and classics references.
Rose preened. Emily giggled. And Leon? Well, he looked down, big blue eyes all soft and teary and began to swing her arm, encouraging her to do it again.
Claire absolutely wasn’t having a moment of déjà vu, she sure as shit wasn’t having a moment in general. And if she rubbed her nose, it definitely wasn’t to keep back the tears prickling her eyes.
Taking pity on her, Leon turned his entire attention to the two girls, prompting them to cock their heads in unison. “How about you two go ahead and check out my ransom? Set up shop for our little tea party while you’re at it?”
“Are you already taking it off?” Rose asked, quickly putting two and two together, not liking her conclusion one bit. Likewise, the tiniest pout snuck onto Emily’s sweet little face.
“Not before aunty Claire has taken half a dozen pictures for us to hang up, I’m not.”
Which turned out to be just the thing to say.
“Count me in!” Emily pronounced, grabbing Rose’s hand, and off they went in a storm of giggles and pattering feet.
Beholding the complicated expression on Leon’s face, it was Claire’s turn to take pity on him. “Taylor Swift? You, of all people?”
Leon shrugged. “I am apparently in my Reputation’s era if Grace is to be believed.”
Whatever that meant.
“I hope you know I’m going to take those pictures...,” she raised her phone, Leon obligingly striking a hero pose, glitter, braids, unicorn-band aid and all, “...and sent them right into the Redfield pack group chat.”
“Don’t.” She managed to capture the exact moment this man, who had stopped what felt like a hundred and one doomsdays, put a finger to his cheek to declare in the most sickly-sweet voice. “Daddy might get jealous if anyone but him gets to see his wifey like this.”
Claire gagged, throwing her phone right at his head, only for the fucker to catch it with ease. “Never, ever do this again, or I’m turning Chris into a single father.”
“A single da…”
“LEON.”
“Alright, Alright. Don’t you sweat it, baby.” And in her relief, Claire missed the moment the ass somehow unlocked her phone.
“Hey! Give me!”
“Uh-uh,” he danced out of the way. And really, it wasn’t fair. Leon had been a slippery bastard since the day they met, but Chris’ bulking him up should have at least gained Claire a proficiency bonus in agility. Yet, if anything, it just meant he could turn his back to block her unless she felt inclined to hop right on to stop him from deleting the pictures and their chat history right after sending them to himself.
“Cheat,” she spat, catching her phone and shoving it into her pocket when he finally tossed it back to her.
Another shrug, a moment of silence, in which she could see him listening for any trouble downstairs, and then, “So, what’s the verdict?”
“Verdict?” Claire repeated, one heartbeat too slow to catch the exact moment his smile lost some of its luster and turned guarded.
“Chris sent you to check in on me, didn’t he? Make sure I’m not masking my way into his next guilt trip.”
Claire raised a brow at the term. “Damn, Redfield, that sounds almost like someone made use of the list I gave him.”
Leon made a face. “Sounds like a less professional version of the therapist I’ve called four times over the course of the past two weeks.” He heaved a sigh. “You know, I thought I’d go to the first session, realize this would make me less funny, and leave to never come back.”
That sounded… honest. “But?”
“But turns out that shit works.” He seemed so frustrated with himself. Claire felt almost compelled to pat him on the head. She didn’t, pinned to the spot by the confused relief he let her glimpse through his eyes.
“Like it was one session, right? But all of a sudden, Chris has… he and I… I….” He fell silent, hesitated, frowned, started over. “Suddenly, I have someone to call when shit in my head gets dark. Someone who actually knows what to say, who I don’t…” He stopped, sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “Someone who doesn’t make me feel like I’m unloading my shit on them. And honestly, with how much I’m being charged, to talk at someone that’s…” He looked at her, saw her expression, made a half-strangled sound. “Shit, look, I know that isn’t how any of you think about it, but I… I…”
By that point, he looked to be in physical anguish, so Claire did get up on her tiptoes to ruffle his hair. “Easy there. You are new to that whole ‘I statement’ business. The effort’s appreciated, but so is not tying your tongue into a knot.”
He gratefully, if not gracefully, took the out. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t be delighted.”
“Oh, I’d consider it a blessing, but my brother, for whatever reason, thinks it's your most endearing trait.” And giving him a once-over to make sure he wasn’t about to freak out on her, Claire added. “I’m glad you are finally asking for help.”
“Makes it easier to get Chris to do the same, huh?” Leon huffed, which… she was going to let pass.
“You do know you married a Redfield?”
He flung an arm around her shoulder. “You realize I’m one of you now? I shall outstubborn your entire bloodline to prove that point if I have to.”
In answer, she slung hers around his waist. “You’ve got nothing to prove, Leon. Least of all to me.” Just for good measure, she used their current position to give him that hug, which he was clearly too Redfield to ask for. “I’m just glad you’re still in one piece.”
She was rewarded with a smile that she’d first seen through barbed wire, on the face of a young man she barely knew, dramatically backlit by a recently crashed helicopter. It was a smile that had told her with absolute certainty that this stranger was genuinely happy to see her alive, that he had not doubted her for a minute and yet would have come to hunt her down if need be. A promise between them that hadn’t changed in all those years. “Said we’d get through this, didn’t you?”
And looking at this smiling idiot, covered in glitter that only highlighted all the marks life had left on his face, Claire knew that here was one life choice neither of the Redfield siblings would ever regret. “That I did.”