Chosen Sides

Chapter 2

He found her on the roof, sitting with her legs dangling on the edge, staring blankly at the night sky. Her fingers were twiddling with a bottle of vodka, swaying it absentmindedly. He had every intention of calling out to her, but as he stood by the top of the fire escape, a question of purpose, of motive, suddenly popped in his head.

What was he doing here?

Why did he follow her?

But the better question was, why did he find himself searching for her all evening whenever a lull in a conversation occurred, whenever he moved rooms, whenever someone would utter her name, or whenever a flash of red would catch his eye? He'd been so aware of her that one of the women he was chatting up eventually took notice. He shook his head.

Perhaps that was what surviving the end of the world did to someone. He didn't understand why exactly, but seeing her reminded him a lot of how he used to be – a starry eyed rookie cop dreaming of making the world a better place, a safer place, by bagging one bad guy after another. He shook his head again. That time felt so long ago.

But more than the reminder of who he used to be, seeing her, being with her, felt a whole lot like... coming home. With her, there was no need for pretenses – no need to act like the hero who always had his shit together. He could be that clueless rookie cop again without any judgment. There was no pressure, no demand, no expectation, to know all the answers.

With her, he could just be... Leon.

She would listen to him when no one else would, call him out on his actions when no one else could, and she always... always had his back – even if he didn't want it, even if he didn't ask for it. She would be there when he least expected it, but always... always when he needed her the most.

The sight of Claire tipping the bottle of vodka over her mouth, chugging a couple of times made his heartache. Did she also spend her nights staring at the bottom of a glass? He wished she didn't. He wished to god she didn't.

All thoughts fled his mind when she began pulling out the pins in her hair, letting soft auburn curls cascade down her back. This was the first time he's ever seen her with it down. She always had it pulled out of her face, mostly in a functional pony tail, ready for anything that would come her way. He started walking towards her before he even realized.

"So this is where you're hiding." He chuckled when she nearly dropped the liquor in her hands, sputtering in surprise.

"Leon..." She panted as her palm slapped against her chest. "You scared the shit out of me!"

"Must be losing your touch, Claire." He smirked as he took off his leather jacket, draping it over her shoulders. "It's freezing out here. Are you trying to get a cold?" He was in a thick cable knit sweater with a turtleneck underneath, but he could still feel the chill in the air. He sighed at her tiredly. What the hell was she doing staying outside wearing only a dress?

He eyed the exposed skin of her neck, gaze trailing across her collar bones before dipping down all the way onto the valley of her– He looked away before his thoughts could veer into dangerous territory, waving a hand at her in dismissal when he realized she'd been trying to give him back his jacket. "You need it more than I do."

He moved to sit beside her on the edge of the roof, putting some bit of distance between them for added measure. Seeing her in that red dress was doing things to him he... wasn't particularly keen on analyzing. When he first saw her walk into Chris' apartment this evening, he was sure whatever went on inside the confines of his chest was something akin to a heart attack.

"I'm not infected, if that's what you're concerned about." Her eyes narrowed at the space between them.

He rubbed at his nape, looking for a way to explain why he needed her to be out of reach. It wasn't because he didn't want to be near her, or that she repulsed him in anyway. Quite the opposite actually.