Archive of Our Own

THE FIRST TIME ADA BURNED FOR HIM.

Something' happened for the first time,
In the darkest little paradise, shakin', pacin',
I just need you

-

Ada knows all about fire.

It's a ground-breaking, earth-shaking force bigger than anything she's ever known. It takes, and swallows, and consumes every living thing. She knows its shape, its color, the smell of rotten meat it leaves behind like the lingering perfume of a businessman. She's used to it, having spent her childhood surrounded by its heat. But Ada isn't scared of fire anymore. She's learned to control it, to redirect its flames as if being blown away by the wind.

But Ada never knew she could burn like this.

For an instant, Ada hates her poor judgment. Of course he would be here, and she was not stupid enough to believe their paths wouldn't cross again, or that their jobs wouldn't overlap considering they played on the same field—just opposite sides of it. She was sent to the warehouse to retrieve a virus sample, the place had been operating illegally for almost two years and her client told her that STRATCOM had found its hidden base. It was of the utmost urgency that she secured a copy before they raided the perimeter.

It was only a matter of time, truly, before she saw him again.

And she did.

"Who sent you?" the man asks, masked and aiming his gun at her.

Ada remains arm-crossed, indulging the boring conversation as she makes an escape plan. The hallway is narrow, there's a window to her right but it's barred. She expected to find some form of opposition. After all, she was not supposed to be here. She was a thief, sneaking in uninvited to steal a virus from the bad guys in order to deliver it to another potential bad guy. She didn't expect to be caught so easily, though.

"Alber Wesker," she lies, eyes roaming around the hallway.

The agent scoffs, voice distorted by his mask.

"I know Albert Wesker," the guy explains, and Ada chuckles with amusement. That's his first mistake, you see. To expose your cards so easily. "He did not send you; otherwise, we'd know."

"Tricell?" she wonders, staring at his black uniform.

There's no badge there. Truth be told, her client did not tell her who she'd be stealing the sample from.

"Last chance," he says, taking a step forward, reaffirming the grip on his fusil. "Who the fuck sent you?"

Ada licks her lips. If she's quick enough, perhaps, she can grab the flash grenade tucked in her garter and blind the guy for a minute or two, but before she even attempts to move, footsteps approach around the corner of the hallway, and a very armed, very handsome Leon Kennedy jumps into the scene with a somewhat confused expression on his face.

"Drop your wea—"

The agent turns, not expecting the interruption, and Ada takes advantage of his very thoughtless distraction to approach in a swift motion. She hooks her arm around his neck and twists, hard. The sound is loud and merciless. The man drops to the ground like a sack doll, heavy and empty.

Ada sighs, unbothered, as she arranges her attire. Finally, she looks up at Leon. He's somewhat flabbergasted, perhaps a bit angry, with a hint of relief. He lowers his gun, taking a step forward, blue eyes on the dead man on the floor.

"There was no need for that."

"I don't tell you how to do your job, don't tell me how to do mine," is her cold reply. Ada checks her pistol, making sure it's loaded. "Are you here to finally arrest me, or can we skip the pleasantries and go our separate ways?"

Truth be told, she is still somewhat bitter about those words, and made that abundantly clear the very few times they saw each other after Spain.

Leon makes a face, torn between a smile and a scowl. He's annoyed, but he's not pointing his gun at her. He's disturbed by the way she killed the agent without a second thought, but he's making no attempts to harm her. It amuses Ada, sometimes, this inner conflict he has. She wants to dwell on it a little longer, push his buttons to see how far he can go, but time is running out and she still hasn't found the sample. If Leon is here, it means backup is on the way.

"You're here for a sample?"

Ada walks away from him, stepping over the dead corpse like it's a piece of furniture and not a real human being. Leon follows, as always.

"I see you've been doing your homework," Ada checks another window, also barred. Two doors in the hallway, one is locked. "Since we're both after the same thing, wanna team up?"

His laughter is anything but amicable, yet it stirs something inside her chest. Like the satisfaction from staying underneath the sun or that first sip of warm coffee in the morning. It's comfortable. Ada doesn't know comfortable.

"Yeah, sure," he scoffs. "Been there, done that. It didn't end up well for us, did it?”

Ada makes a face, turns around to look at him, and briefly forgets about time running out and the urgency of her mission. She shouldn't be wasting her precious time on pointless banter with a federal agent, but old habits die hard. Ada approaches, a flicker of mockery in her gaze.

"Do you ever do anything for fun, Mr. Kennedy? I promise you, it makes the job a lot easier."

"This isn't a game, Ada," he frowns, always so proper and righteous. "If it's the sample you want, I'm afraid I can't let you have it."

"Just like you didn't let me have the Amber?"

He stammers, taken aback by her response.

"I—"

Leon gasps loudly when the sound of frantic footsteps rushes down from the nearest staircase. Ada doesn't even have time to process the situation before he grabs her arm, so strongly it almost hurts, and drags her through the right door of the hallway and into an empty storage room. He locks the door, slamming her body against the wall. Ada aims to fight back, asking what the hell is he doing, but the palm of his hand covers up her mouth, his wide blue eyes staring at the door.

"What are you—"

"Shhh."

Voices come from the other side, a whole team making a fuss about their dead agent on the ground. They are screaming, hollering orders about checking the perimeter. They are not STRATCOM. They speak of an infiltrator and securing the samples and a chopper nearby, but Ada suddenly feels like she's underwater, and their voices stop making sense when the darkness of the room engulfs her and all she can feel is Leon's palm pressed over her mouth.

She's paralyzed. Her eyes look up at him, he's panting, and his breathing hits her face in a way that makes her heart go both impossibly still and furiously frantic. She tries to breathe through her nose, but in doing so, she inhales the scent of his body, of his hair and his palm and his breath, and Ada can't take it. Leon keeps his eyes on the door, shielding her from danger one more time when she doesn't deserve it, and Ada wants to ask why.

Why why why why?

She does not need his help. She has survived this world time and time again without his presence in her life.

Her eyes roam through the darkness, the noise from outside the door growing louder and louder, but Ada can't move. She can't fucking breathe with Leon's hand covering her mouth. She doesn't think she wants to, either. Her gaze flicks upwards, towards his features, panting against the heat of his hand. If she parts her lips, she will taste the warmth of his skin on her tongue. So Ada tries to breathe through her nose, realizing that she's never been this close to Leon before.

One time, perhaps. But that was so long ago.

He's taller than her. And his shoulders have grown so broad. Have they always been this broad? His blue eyes look almost greenish under the dim light, and Ada wonders if he has the kind of eyes that change color depending on the lightning. She smells cologne and gunpowder, and the heat of his body is the right temperature, the kind that would make her want to curl up against during cold nights.

Ada realizes, then, what this is all about.

Want.

Sickening, hot, forbidden want.

This is not the right time for that.

Ada begins to pant, counting the minutes until this is all over. Her hands turn into fists, her nails dig into the palm of her hands so firmly that it hurts. It will bleed if she keeps going; it will scar. A rush of hotness washes over her and as the noises outside die down, Leon notices that she's panting under his touch. As if out of a trance, Leon looks down at her, and his eyes fall on the frantic rise and fall of her chest.

Then, their eyes meet. She's burning with madness and a thousand forbidden thoughts. Leon seems to realize this, as well as the fact that the hallway has grown silent yet he continues to keep her pinned against the wall. He blinks, slowly getting out of it. Reluctantly, he drags his palm away from her mouth, his fingers briefly grazing the skin of her chin in the process.

Without his hand on her mouth, she could finally breathe again. She doesn't, though. Leon swallows, stepping back, and Ada notices his hesitation and the way he clenches and fists, for a brief second, the hand he used to cover her mouth. As if it burned, as if he just got a shock of electricity.

"I'll… I'll go see if they're gone," is all he says before walking out the door.

Finally, Ada pants, breathing at last. Her entire body shakes as she presses her head on the wall and closes her eyes.

Instinctively, her fingers graze over her lips, still warm by the touch of his hand.

THE FIRST TIME ADA REALIZED SHE HAD FEELINGS FOR HIM.

As I'm looking around the room, but there was one thing missing
And that was the moment I knew

-

Ada Wong doesn't do relationships.

She doesn't have friends. She doesn't have colleagues. Every lover she's ever had was a means to an end, a simple contract that would place a great number of zeros in her bank account. It's the life she chose with what little choice she had, and when you don't know anything else, there is no room for longing.

Sex, however, is a different matter.

Pleasure feels good. It is rewarding. A glimpse of joy she doesn't get to experience every day. Like a nice meal at the end of a hard weekend or the promise of rain when everything feels dry and dead. A regular necessity, like eating or showering.

But Ada never thought sex could make you sad. Never thought sex could make you cry, leaving you cold and empty.

She does not know the man; she never does. His name is unfamiliar to her tongue, and she doesn't waste time on mindless chatting. If she did, she'd have to lie. He takes her to his hotel room and Ada stops him the moment he tries to kiss her. Ada doesn't kiss. It makes men clingy and yearn for a second time, and Ada never does second times. It doesn't seem to bother him, so he kisses her neck instead, and Ada allows him to strip her naked and carry her to his bed.

He kisses her body and squeezes the skin of her thighs and when he's about to be inside her, Ada turns around, the slim expansion of her back suggesting a different idea. She doesn't want to look at his face, she does not care for his pleasure, she will not get off by making him come. So Ada gives him her back, as she does with everything else in life, and pants against the pillows when he's inside her.

It feels good, at first. His hands on her hips, the force of his thrusts, to feel a warm body instead of the numbing cold she experiences daily. But the minutes drag tortuously slow and Ada realizes it's not enough. She's not even nearly as close to her climax as she had expected, and his grunting and moaning are doing nothing for her at all.

Ada keeps her eyes open and presses her cheek against the mattress, staring at the wall across from the bed. Something is wrong, and she can't quite understand what it is. His mouth brushes her shoulder, panting a name that isn't hers, and Ada flinches underneath his touch. The thought flickers in her mind faster than the wings of a hummingbird.

Blue eyes.

Dirty blond hair.

A spark of pleasure rushes from between her legs and towards every nerve in her fucking body. Ada whimpers, eyes falling shut with a heaviness that feels like regret, hating the way her pulse spikes. She wants to stop it, desperate, yet another moan breaks from her lips and she's suddenly helpless.

Broad shoulders.

The smell of gunpowder clinging to a leather jacket.

The pressure of his hand over her mouth.

Without even thinking, Ada reaches behind to grab the stranger's hand, guiding it higher. And higher. Higher, until his palm covers her mouth. He chuckles, amused, thinking perhaps it is some type of kinky impulse, but Ada doesn't care what he thinks. The moment he secures his hand around her mouth, Ada allows her mind to drift away and pleasure builds so high and fast it almost kills her.

Ada whines against his palm, her mind replaying the moment Leon did the same thing months ago against the wall of a dirty storage room, the way his fingers grazed her chin before he pulled away, as if he didn't want to. Humiliated and on the verge of tears, Ada imagines what his voice would sound like right now, whispering in her ear, kissing not only her body but her lips because he was just that kind of guy. The romantic type, the one who'd say I love you to a one-night stand. Ada doesn't know what it is like to hear those words from someone; she doesn't think anyone ever said them to her before.

She conjures the words in her mind, either way, and feels the tears slide down her cheeks, dampening the white mattress.

"Ah, fuck, Mary…"

Leon wouldn't whisper a stranger's name.

For Leon, she is Ada. She doesn't quite know who she is, most of the time, but she likes the way it sounds when he says it. She likes it so much that she wants to be Ada, even for one night, even when she shouldn't. A treacherous sob escapes her lips, tears hot and humiliating, but the stranger behind her doesn't notice. He doesn't have a clue.

Leon would have noticed, she thinks.

He would have heard. He would have kissed her eyes and held her in his arms and opened his heart to her, unashamed, as he did the night they met. A broken breath leaves her lips, torn between pleasure and pain, furious at herself for unraveling over something so pathetic. Over a man who was not here right now, a man she could not keep.

Ada had slept beside countless people without even remembering their faces the next morning. She'd never shared anything more than a chaste kiss with Leon, yet his face was all she could see right now. No one else fit anymore.

She came with a cry and Leon's name on her lips, muted against the hand of a stranger.

THE FIRST TIME ADA SLEPT WITH HIM

Late in the night, the city's asleep
Your love is a secret, I'm hoping, dreaming,
dying to keep

-

Ada wonders what it is, sometimes, this force that keeps pulling them together, accidentally crossing paths in the most inconvenient situations. A job, where their allegiances are put to the test. A public gathering, where she's usually accompanying a client and finding the most frivolous excuses to approach and say hi, even when she shouldn't. It's a big fucking country, she thinks, yet they seem to move around the same spaces.

Tonight is one of those times.

The ice he'd built around himself as a form of self-preservation seems to get thinner each time they meet. He doesn't look as mad, or as angry, or as bitter. And his shift in behaviour is so drastic, so sudden, that Ada finds herself at a loss for words when he casually suggests, with a hint of anxiety she cannot miss, that they should stop by his apartment for a drink or two.

"It's close by," is all he says.

Ada, of course, is aware of that. She knows where he lives; she probably knows more about him than she'll ever admit out loud. She tells him this, and Leon says "you really are an encyclopedia, huh," but doesn't ask more questions. Doesn't think it's weird that she knows where his apartment is; in fact, Ada swears she can see the ghost of a smile flash over his lips. So they walk through the night, side by side, towards his flat. Only a few blocks away. Ada thinks she's breaking a thousand rules by agreeing to this, but curiosity takes the best of her and when they enter his flat, Ada doesn't waste any time roaming through his things like the concept of privacy is foreign to her.

The place is a horrible mess.

The walls are painted in dull, lifeless colors. No photographs. No artwork. The space feels temporary, like he moved in months ago and never fully unpacked. A leather jacket hangs off the back of a kitchen chair. There's a vase near the window with dead flowers drowning in cloudy water. The shelves are worse. Half the books are exactly what she expected: politics, military history, hand-to-hand combat, gun assembly manuals with worn spines and folded corners. He owns a few records, too, most of them corny love ballads from the 90's. A PlayStation was shoved underneath the TV, surrounded by tangled wires and empty beer bottles.

Ada makes a face.

"You have the ugliest apartment I've ever seen," she remarks, unabashed, as she peeks through a few drawers.

She hears his scoff all the way from the kitchen.

"Let's see what yours looks like, then we'll talk."

"I don't have an apartment," Ada explains, inspecting the scarves hanging by a coat rack.

"What do you mean you don't have an apartment?"

Ada makes a face, slightly annoyed. It's already bad enough, daily, to remind herself that she doesn't have a permanent home, a place to go back to. She doesn't need his pity.

"What can I say?" her tone is flat and avoidant. She picks up a tiny snow globe from a shelf and slowly shakes it. "I'm a free spirit."

Ada enters the kitchen and opens his fridge, empty with just a few beer cans and three eggs. What a sad, lonely boy. Ada continues to inspect his poor excuse for a kitchen when she finds the keys to his apartment lying on a counter, attached to the teddy bear keychain she'd given him in Spain. Her insides twist at the sight. So he kept it, huh. Ada had assumed he threw it away. Carefully, she makes sure Leon isn't watching before picking up the keychain. Her thumb brushes over the tiny zipper hidden at the back, and a flicker of anxiety curls low in her stomach. Slowly, Ada unzips it.

The folded piece of paper is still inside.

Her brows lift slightly. Well, fuck. Relief washes through her so suddenly she almost laughs. The truth was embarrassingly simple: Ada had slipped her number into the stupid bear two years ago, written hastily on a wrinkled piece of paper moments before giving it to him. An unscripted phone number disconnected from her work, reserved for the rare moments she allowed herself to want impossible things. She had waited for weeks afterward, checking the phone more times than she cared to admit, but he never reached out.

Text. Don't call, she'd written.

Ada thought he didn't care, that perhaps he meant what he said about going their separate ways. She should have known he was just too dumb to realize the zipper wasn't simply decorative, but actually functional. Ada sighs, closing the zipper.

"I didn't think you'd keep it," she mutters.

Leon peeks over his shoulder as he opens a wine bottle.

"It's cute," is all he says.

She makes no mention of the hidden number. It's better this way, she believes, if he doesn't find it. Leon pours the wine and gives her the glass. They drink, staring at each other, leaning against opposite counters with a space stretching far between them.

"Well," Leon sighs, and he raises his glass almost comically. "Here we are, eight years later."

"Here we are," she agrees, imitating his motion and raising her glass, too.

"So, what's this, exactly?" he wonders, and motions his finger at the space between them. "Friendship? Ocasional partnership?"

She gives him a shrug, thinking that Leon is perhaps the closest thing to a friend she's ever had. But she's not ready to tell him that, yet. Perhaps never. So Ada lies, because that's what she does best.

"There's no need for labels," she takes a sip of wine. "They complicate everything, don't they?"

He nods, smiling as he looks down at his feet.

"Ah, so you're that kind of woman."

Amused, Ada raises a brow.

"And what kind is that?"

"The emotionally unavailable kind," he says lightly, like it's a joke. "You know, the kind that keeps everything vague enough to avoid getting hurt. Which means, in my humble opinion, that you're not as heartless as I thought."

Ada keeps her expression perfectly composed, but her knuckles clench firmly against the glass and her teeth grit ever so slightly. She feels the poison gather in her tongue. What would he know?

"You are a terrible judge of character, then."

"I used to be, clearly," his comment feels like a stab in the chest.

"Clearly," she humors him.

"But I'm not that rookie anymore," he says, as if trying to prove something to her.

Ada hums, tilting her head.

"A rookie who became a federal agent," she questions. "How did you end up working for the government? I never asked."

The playful spark in Leon's eyes dies. He swallows, looking down at his feet, and takes a long sip of his wine. She notices the topic makes him uncomfortable, but perhaps Ada is a bit of a heartless woman, after all, as he enthusiastically likes to remark time and time again.

He takes a few seconds to answer, licking his lips.

"They took Sherry, you know, Birkin's daughter?" he explains, and Ada nods. Leon sighs, staring at his glass. "I told them to leave her alone, but I should've known they wouldn't listen. It was… join them or die, basically. And Sherry needed me, so…"

Ada stays silent, swirling the glass. Of course he would sacrifice his own freedom to save someone else. Absently, her fingers graze her right shoulder, where an old scar lies hidden beneath her clothes.

"You keep in touch with her?"

"For a while, I did," he leaves it at that, implying that he no longer is.

Ada scoffs, not surprised. Of course the government wouldn't allow Leon to see the kid.

"Well, it's been years," she suggests. "You could walk away now if you wanted to."

Leon grimaces, shaking his head, and empties the glass in one sip.

"Nah, it's good. I do like my job, anyway," he shrugs, and delivers a tired grin. "At least, in here, I can do something."

Ada can't help but feel the slightest wave of disappointment. He has talent; he could do so much better than working for the president. He could do as he pleased, working for whoever he decided to, no alliances whatsoever. But Leon has something she lacks, something that shapes his worldview and guides his steps onward, something foreign to her.

Honor.

Leon is an honorable man.

He keeps his word, no matter the cost. For Ada, words are a breakable, malleable thing. Ephemeral and fleeting. A weapon used to exploit those around her to complete her endless list of jobs and contracts. She had betrayed people who trusted her. She had pretended to love and care with a knife hidden behind her back, sharp and ready for the stabbing. Such was the life of a mercenary, and the only life she'd ever known.

She didn't think there was anything honorable about her, and suddenly, Leon's presence feels massive in the room. A cruel mirror reflecting all of her dirt, all the spots where she's lacking compared to him. His integrity makes her seem small.

He's so, so much better than her.

"I see," she whispers.

"What about you?" he begins, a hint of boldness in his tone. He takes a moment to ask, hesitating. "How did you escape Raccoon City?"

He keeps his gaze fixed on her, unyielding, studying all of her microexpressions in search of a crack. Ada can sense the bitterness, the desperation for an honest answer and, perhaps, an apology. She offers none.

"You don't wanna know, handsome," she ends the conversation there. "So let's leave it at that."

Leon nods a few times, and a flicker of disappointment flashes through his eyes.

"Alright, then."

He reaches for the wine bottle, turning carelessly towards the counter but the glass slips from his hand, shattering against the sink. Ada flinches faintly at the sudden crack.

"Fuck," Leon mutters.

A jagged piece sliced clean through the center of his palm, staining his hand in blood. Muttering another set of slight curses, Leon opens the faucet and lets the water run over his skin as his other hand reaches for the top cabinet, looking for what appears to be a gauze pack. Ada stares, motionless, unsure of what to do. She feels like an idiot, watching as Leon struggles one-handed with the gauze, trying to tear the packaging open with his teeth while blood continues to spill from the wound. She wonders if this is what it's like for him, whenever he comes home wounded and no one's around to lend him a hand.

It's the same for her, too.

Her feet move before making up her mind.

"Give me that," she mutters softly.

Leon glances up in mild surprise as Ada plucks the gauze from his hands. She places her glass over the counter and inspects the wound, the blood gathering along the lines of his skin. She cannot remember the last time she tended to someone else's wounds.

Her touch is awkward at first. She folds the gauze carefully around his palm, feeling his penetrating gaze upon her. And this isn't the right time, but Ada decides she quite likes the shape of his hands. They feel soft and strong all at once, capable of both inflicting injury and remedying it. Ada doesn't think her hands are meant for healing, and still, she wraps the gauze carefully around his palm and hopes, irrationally, that it will be enough. Leon has other wounds, too. Hidden behind tired eyes and sharp remarks, wounds she inflicted without even meaning to.

Ada wonders, suddenly, if she's capable of repairing damage she cannot physically touch.

She wouldn't even know where to begin.

Quietly, Ada secures the gauze around his palm, tightening the knot to keep it in place, but her fingers linger on his skin for a bit longer. Leon's hand shifts slightly beneath hers, and his fingers brush against the back of her hand. Ada stays still, staring at the slow drag of his finger against her knuckles, testing the waters, giving her enough time to pull away if she wants to, but she doesn't. She can't.

Instead, her fingers return the gesture in a faint caress, wondering if he's able to hear her pulse pumping through her skin.

When Ada flicks up her gaze, she finds him staring back at her, blue eyes dragging all over her features like he's trying to take a mental picture and keep it locked somewhere dark and secret, where no one can find it. The whole situation feels illicit; she's not even supposed to be here tonight, she shouldn't even be talking to him or tending to his wounds in the first place.

But it feels good, if only for one night, to have something that feels like a personal life. A friend, a space they can share, a drink and light conversation. Ada doesn't have that, most of the time. Her life is performative, her days cold and her nights lonely. She lives for her job, her clients and money she cannot even spend in a way that feels genuine. Vacations by herself, fancy dinners by herself, holidays where her only company is her shadow.

She's so fucking lonely.

Somehow, she thinks Leon might be too.

"I really wanted you to come with me when I asked," she mutters, out of nowhere, staring down at the way his thumb brushes over her fingers. "Back in Spain."

Leon huffs a quiet laugh. Ada likes the way the corners of his eyes crinkle gently as a dimple presses over his cheek.

"It sucks, doesn't it? To be the one left behind."

"You can do as you please," her whisper is so soft he barely hears it. "I don't have that luxury."

"None of this has ever really been up to me," he confesses, tightening the grip around her hand. "You make it seem like I can control the way I feel about you."

Ada knows she shouldn't be humoring him this way, adding fuel to this disobedient fire. She should put an end to his pathetic feelings before both get burned but Ada is already burning inside, and his words throb louder than her own heart ever could. Leon is a part of her now, an extra limb that got attached to her body by mistake years ago and the prospect of ripping it off now feels unbearable. A phantom pain.

If she stays, she will make his life a living hell. One day, he'll wonder how he ever mistook her for something worth caring for.

Her gaze softens over his features, so precious and honest, so kind and stupid.

"You poor boy," Ada laments. "You'll get your heart broken."

A soft, pained sigh leaves Leon as he leans forward until his forehead touches hers. His eyes fall shut, a small shake of his head.

What a stubborn little thing.

"Already broken."

Tentatively, Leon leans forward until his lips barely brush against hers. A second, two, and then they part. He exhales, Ada inhales, and then his lips brush over hers again. It's only a fleeting caress, like he's ready for her to pull away, but Ada parts her mouth, eyes fluttering shut. She breathes against him, feeling dizzy and on the verge of collapsing. He strokes her lower lip and then pulls away, taking a moment, noses brushing. They stay quiet for an instant, pressed against each other, probably thinking this is the worst decision either of them has ever made.

Leon's breath quivers against her mouth, like he's terrified and hanging by a thread.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs into her lips, as if he's begging her to agree. As if he wants her to. "I'll stop."

Always the gentleman.

Unable to form any coherent words, Ada shakes her head, grazing their noses in the process. She takes his lips in a firmer stroke, deepening the kiss, and Leon does the same. He strokes her tongue with his own in such a way that it makes her doubt and recognize, against her will, that perhaps he's right. He's not the rookie she once knew.

His hand cradles her neck, pulling her closer to him. It starts slowly at first, as if testing how far both are willing to go, but any rational thought they tried to hold onto slips away when their kiss turns heated, and desperate, and wild. Their hands run frantically over each other's faces, she pulls at the hair on his nape, he squeezes the soft flesh of her ass. Before she can notice, Leon hoists her up in his arms with a strength that impresses her. He sits her over the counter and they have sex, for the first time, in his kitchen.

Then, Leon takes her to his bed.

This is wrong, she thinks, as his lips drag across her stomach with a reverence that terrifies her. This is wrong. This will end in utter disaster.

This is wrong.

Yet Ada wants it again.

This is wrong.

And again.

This is wrong.

And again.

THE FIRST TIME THEY FOUGHT

He was sunshine, I was midnight rain
He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain

-

The motel smells like shit, dust and whiskey.

Ada wrinkles her nose as she steps inside.

The neon sign outside bleeds weak red lights through the curtains, painting the room in ugly shadows. The place is a mess, far from the luxurious hotels she's used to staying at, but the lack of security comes in handy for the present circumstances. Ada throws her grapple gun over the bed, her black tactical suit sticking painfully to her skin.

"That was really fucking stupid, Ada."

Ada ignores his voice, like a pesky mosquito buzzing in her ear. She hears him close the door behind them as Ada enters the bathroom to check herself in the mirror. A cut on her cheek, a broken lip, and the painful sting on her shoulder that throbs like a bitch make her sigh in frustration. She'll tend to that later, when she's alone and away from blue, prying eyes.

"Seriously, what the hell were you thinking?" Leon continues to ramble, voice husky and impossibly frustrating. "That was fucking stupid."

"Yes, I heard you the first time," she replies, growing annoyed. She doesn't like it when he questions her decisions like she's some kind of rookie on her first day on the job. She almost feels prompted to say that aloud, but if she does, she'll never hear the end of it.

They'd found each other again in a different assignment, teaming up at the last minute when they realized they were both going to die if they didn't work together. Ada checks the time on her watch, half an hour until she can arrive at the point of extraction. She walks out of the bathroom to find him pacing around the bedroom, frowning and restless.

"Alright, hurry up, give me the file," she urges, extending her hand with impatience.

Leon stares for a second, panting.

"I already delivered it to an officer."

Ada blinks, skin growing cold.

"What?"

He's not ashamed to hold her gaze.

"What you just heard."

"You said you were going to give it to me," Ada gasps, bewildered. "You promised."

Leon nods, taking the gun out of his holster and placing it on a table.

"Yeah, well, I lied."

Ada stares at the gun on the table like she wants to shoot him with it. A sharp breath leaves her nose as her jaw clenches hard enough to ache. She laughs once under her breath before turning away from him entirely.

"Unbelievable."

"Did you really think I was going to let you have it?" Leon snarls. "You forget who you're talking to."

She turns, face growing hot.

"Oh, how could I ever forget?" Ada winces, irritated. "America's golden boy, so righteous and heroic. You probably jack off every night thinking about saving the world, don't you? Does that get you off? I bet it does."

Leon exhales slowly through his nose, exhaustion flickering across his face. He's starting to lose it.

"Ada—"

"I needed that file, Leon," she insists, and her frustration can't quite conceal the brief crack of disappointment in Leon's expression.

"Yeah," he says sharply. "And you almost got yourself killed because of it."

"What's it to you?"

The silence that follows is so loud that Ada wants to storm out of the room, leave him with the words in his mouth and the sorrow in his eyes. But Ada isn't thinking straight right now, and her professionalism tugs at the rims of her feelings. She needed that fucking file, and Leon stood in the way of it. Right now, he's an obstacle.

"Is it really that difficult for you to see that I don't want you getting hurt?"

Ada looks away immediately, jaw tightening.

"Always with the sentiments."

Something in Leon finally snaps. His voice comes sharper this time.

"No, look at me," Ada turns away from him, but Leon catches her arm before she can move farther. His grip is firm, desperate to keep her in place. "You think I wouldn't care? When it's all I can think about when you—"

"Oh, please."

"—when you disappear for months, and I don't even know if you're dead or alive, and I—"

"Keep your voice down," she hisses instinctively, panic flashing through her eyes as she briefly stares at the door.

"—and I already mourned you once," he spits back, like it's all her fault. "I won't do it again. I won't let you—"

"Let me?" she interrupts, flabbergasted. Her eyes darken, her tongue grows sharper. "Careful."

"Oh, yeah? What are you going to do?" he lets go of her arm, like the contact suddenly burns. "Dispose of me? Is that what I am to you, then? An obstacle you'd get rid of if given the chance? Just another target you'd eliminate if somebody paid enough?"

"You never know," Ada says quietly. "So if you value your pathetic, miserable life, I suggest you stay on my good side."

Ada regrets her words the second they leave her mouth, but pride keeps her expression perfectly still.

His gaze drags slowly over her like he's seeing her clearly for the first time in years.

"You think my life is miserable?" he huffs a dry laugh. "You are an empty, hollow shell of a woman who's terrified of admitting that you might need someone, that you might need me."

She blinks.

Once, twice, three times.

A faint twitch pulls at the corner of her eye. Ada drags her tongue slowly across her teeth, buying herself time, trying to regulate the violent impulses throbbing inside her chest.

"Need you," she echoes under her breath, nodding faintly like she's tasting the absurdity of his words. "You think I need you?"

"I do, actually," he agrees, stubbornly.

Ada lets out a short laugh.

"Keep being delusional, then."

Ada walks over to the bed to grab her knife, tucking it back into her thigh holster, ready to flee from unwanted conversations and inconvenient emotions. All her alarms are up. Retreat, retreat, retreat. This is exactly what she's been trying to avoid for years.

She should have known better.

"You keep pushing me away because of your allegiances, like you're the only one who has a duty," he continues behind her, voice growing louder. "You have no greater duty than mine. I work for the fucking president. I have even more reasons than you to walk away and never see you again, yet here I am, saving your ass because I care about you."

Ada clenches her fists hard enough for her nails to bite into her palms, and it takes a great effort to ignore every single word coming out of his mouth. Show no emotions, that's what she'd been taught. Emotions lead to weakness, and weakness to an unaccomplished mission.

And, an unaccomplished mission, might lead to death.

But Ada would rather die than let him see that.

"Who has the file?"

The abruptness of the question cuts him deeper than any knife.

Leon goes still, pain pooling down from his eyes like a river of blood, and it's tainting them both. It's making them messy and dirty and Ada doesn't know if they can wash themselves clean, after this.

He answers anyway, barely a whisper.

"I gave it to Hunnigan."

Her breathing remains uneven with anger.

"Then maybe I'll pay her a visit tonight," Ada says coolly, meeting his eyes with so much defiance that it nearly knocks him over. "Indulge in some girl talk."

She's beyond sympathy, at this point.

Leon holds her gaze, unwavering.

"Then you'll have to go through me."

The cruel smile on Ada's lips falters, a tremor passes through her mouth before she tightens it again, feeling the cheap armor she'd built around herself slowly rusting. Leon notices, which is both unsurprising and incredibly irritating. She hates that she's allowed him to see through her so clearly, to the point she can no longer deliver an Oscar-winning performance without him noticing.

He sees her. The ugly, the bad, and the faint glimpses of goodness that remain somewhere deep inside. And he chooses to stay, regardless.

Why?

What's so special about her?

That she's attractive? That she turns him on? That she's kind to him, once in a while, and tends to his wounds when he's hurt? Is he that desperate for affection that he clings so deeply to whatever scrap of devotion she displays in the intimacy of his apartment?

Leon seems to notice her hesitation and the way her eyes redden and flicker with words she won't share. He huffs, but there's no amusement in his tone.

"What?" he says. "Did I break your heart?"

Ada wants to smile. He sounds more like her than she does herself. Her eyes roam all over his features, older now after all these years of constant collision. Ada wonders if tonight is the last time she'll ever see him. Perhaps, she'll walk out of this room with her pride held high and never cross paths with him again. Perhaps she'll finally maintain the willpower to stop seeking him out when she's lonely and tired.

"Nobody breaks my heart."

Without sparing him another glance, Ada leaves the motel like a phantom in the night. She wonders, briefly, how many more pieces of herself she can leave behind before there's nothing left of her to remember.

THE FIRST TIME ADA CRIED FOR HIM

But now I'll go sit on the floor,
Wearing your clothes, all that I know is I don't know
How to be something you miss

-

It's almost midnight when Ada arrives home.

And home is just an understatement. She'd been living in this apartment—given by the Organization—for over a month now, furnished only with the necessary to subsist until next time she was called off somewhere else. Tiredly, Ada grabs her keys and fumbles with the lock.

Her neighbor appears in the hallway, taking out the trash.

"Rough day, hun?"

Ada drags her lazy eyes towards her. She's an old lady, kind enough to knock on her door to give her a badge of fresh-baked cookies from time to time. Ada appreciates the gesture, truly, but she doesn't need it. She doesn't need anything from anyone, but appearances have to be made, as usual. For this woman, Ada is a Chinese immigrant working as a secretary in an elementary school downtown. Jennie Gao is her name, with her floral dresses and a broken English that serves as a way out to avoid engaging in unwanted conversations.

"Paperwork is hard," Ada replies, forcing a smile.

The old lady chuckles, eyes sparkling with empathy.

"Take some rest, sweetheart. I'll be making blueberry cupcakes tomorrow, my mother's recipe. Would you like me to bring you some?"

Ada stares at her for a moment, wanting to break character. Why is this woman so caring? She doesn't even know her. She smiles and brings her cookies and calls her sweetheart and doesn't ask anything in return—not like Ada is willing to do anything for her, anyway. She doesn't understand.

"Sure," she forces the accent, twisting the key in the lock to finish the interaction as soon as possible. "Thanks."

"Anytime, dear."

Ada enters the apartment, slamming the door shut behind her.

Darkness embraces her like an old friend.

For a moment, Ada simply stands there in silence, the unbearable stillness of the room like a deafening white noise she cannot turn off. Every day feels the same lately. She has repeated this routine for weeks now, so much that she could do it with her eyes closed. She could do it with a broken heart.

She wakes up every day at 4:00 AM. Brushes her teeth, gets dressed and hits the gym for hours on end until her bones crack and her muscles burn and she's numb to it all. Comes back home, greeted by silence. Takes a shower, drinks some coffee, and follows the instructions of the day given by her current client. Gets some cheap, greasy meal on her way home, pretty late at night. Eats in silence by the window, then she goes to bed.

Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat.

If she died on a mission tomorrow, no one would know. The apartment would remain empty and hollow, like she hadn't even been there in the first place.

Ada exhales slowly through her nose, exhaustion sinking deep into her bones all at once now that there's no one left to perform for. She takes off her boots and pulls the white tank top over her head, tossing it somewhere onto the floor without looking. Dressed only in jeans and a black bra, Ada moves over to the table to pick up a cigarette when a scratchy meow catches her attention by the window.

The black cat that occasionally grants her the pleasure of his company sits perched on the fire escape outside, bright green eyes looking through the glass. It's a transactional relationship, at this point. She gave him food once and the cat suddenly decided that she was worth his time. With a sigh, Ada lights up the cigarette and heads to the kitchen, opening an old can of tuna she's storing in a cabinet. Carefully, Ada opens the window and lays the can over the rusted metal of the stairs.

"Hi, stranger," she greets, running her fingers along his furry back.

The cat meows, content, and begins to eat.

And because Ada feels rather lonely tonight, she settles beside the window with a cigarette and a cat without a name. She didn't have the right to give him one, for they didn't belong to each other. He was astray as much as she was, jumping from house to house in search of food and comfort, and once he got what he wanted, he disappeared without a trace.

Ada smirks, sadly.

They have more in common than she realized.

The night air slips through the open windows as she smokes in silence, but after a while, her skin prickles with goosebumps. Her eyes roam around the room, searching for something to cover herself with, and she finds it right away.

Leon's scarf lies forgotten over an armchair.

Ada stares at it for long, torturous seconds. He'd wrapped it around her one night when he caught her trying to leave, thinking he wouldn't notice. He didn't say a thing; he didn't ask her to stay.

"It's cold outside," he'd whispered, shirtless and beautiful, shielding her underneath the wool.

With a bitter swallow, Ada picks up the scarf from the chair and wraps it around her neck, curling up by the window once again. It still smells like him. Soon, the scent will fade away, just like everything else.

Her eyes stare out the window, the moon shining brightly between dark clouds, and for a fleeting moment, Ada can't help but wonder what Leon is doing right now. It's late, so he's probably asleep. They haven't seen each other in months, and Ada doesn't feel like she has the right to reach out, not after all the horrible things she said to him last time they spoke.

Ada knows he's still probably angry, yet hopes he thinks of her, sometimes, with what little flicker of affection he has left.

It's her only comfort, at this point.

Her cold frame remains motionless by the window, the cat no longer by her side, when a sudden sound makes her blink in utter confusion. Ada looks around the room, baffled, perhaps thinking it came from outside the street, but the sound beeps again and her body grows frigid and tense.

Beep. Beep.

Ada recognizes the source, though she barely hears it these days.

It's the sound of her unscripted phone, and there's only one person right now who has the number.

Leon.

She holds her breath, paralyzed, and once she snaps out of it, she walks to the shelf where the phone is hidden and grabs it, resuming her position by the window. Ada swallows, her fingers are quivering, but she presses the buttons anyway, opening up the chat.

Unknown number: Why didn't you tell me?

Unknown number: I can't believe you didn't say anything

Her eyes read the words a million times. He found the number, then? Well, obviously, otherwise he wouldn't be texting. Ada drags a hand over her face, she can't even feel the cold creeping over her skin anymore. She's panting.

The messages keep popping up on the screen.

Unknown number: It's been three years

Unknown number: I would have called you if I knew, you know that

Unknown number: I spend months without a single word from you, you come back and mess up my life whenever you feel like it, and you don't even tell me there's a way for me to reach out to you?

Unknown number: Really, Ada?

Ada bites her lower lip; her eyes sting. A million words cross through her mind, a million excuses she could give him to justify her indifference and stupidity. But he's a stubborn one, this Leon Kennedy, even when she warned him about the consequences of their entanglement. Ada doesn't owe him an explanation; she owes him nothing at all, but her lips part and her tongue seeks words she cannot say.

Her fingers type on the keyboard.

I didn't think it would take ages for you to figure it out.
Are you genuinely that slow, handsome?

She deletes that, and writes again.

It's not my fault that you're stupid.

No, no. She deletes again.

I didn't mean what I said last tim—

Deletes.

I was going to tell you, I just—

Deletes.

I didn't think you'd car—

Deletes.

I miss you. Do you miss—

I'm not a dog you can whistle whenever you—

You're being ridicu—

Delete, delete, delete.

Ada takes a deep breath, but it doesn't quite reach her lungs. A knot grows in her chest, all the way up to her throat. Her nose burns, and her eyesight grows blurred with shameful, disgusting tears.

I'm sorry.

She presses send.

Leon delivers his answer almost immediately.

Unknown number: Yeah, me too.

Ada reads his response over and over again, waiting for more, but the minutes drag slowly and the phone remains silent. Out of impulse, Ada throws the device across the room. The plastic crashes harshly against the wall with a hollow clatter before bouncing onto the wooden floor.

Groaning, Ada buries her face in her knees, panting.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Her throat aches, breaking into a hoarse sob. The sound spreads through every corner of her small, desolate hideout. And once she begins, she cannot stop.

At least, for the first time in months, her apartment isn't so silent anymore.

THE FIRST TIME ADA LONGED FOR MORE

It could be love, we could be the way forward
And I know I'll pay for it

-

For all the shit Ada gives Leon about his apartment, she has to admit that she quite likes the place.

It's warm, even in the dead of winter. She likes to rummage through his clothes and his records, teasing him about his sappy taste in music. She likes to play with his PlayStation and steal some of his books. His couch is comfy and his TV is huge and his bed is the perfect place to stretch far and wide, like a cat, and unwind the tight muscles she carries after a long, exhausting mission overseas.

But what Ada likes the most, without a doubt, is his cooking.

Ada can't cook. The kitchen is unknown territory for her. Leon laughed when she told him, perhaps thinking she was joking because come on, there's not a thing you're not good at, but Leon had the talent to see the world—and people—through rose-colored glasses, and putting her on a pedestal was kind of his thing. But Ada was a practical woman. She preferred to order food or stay in fancy hotels paid by her clients with the most expensive restaurants.

Or, in this case, Leon's talent in the kitchen.

She sits over the counter, nibbling on a baby carrot dipped in hummus, as she watches him chop some onions with skilled hands. He's making her favorite dish of his: steak with caramelized onions and mashed potatoes.

"How did you learn how to cook, Mr. Kennedy?" she wonders, curiosity getting the worst of her. Ada is feeling playful tonight. Must be the wine. "I thought your only talent was to nearly get killed on multiple occasions."

Leon rolls his eyes, but his lips curve into a wide smile.

Fuck, he's cute.

She hates it.

"Thank God you're here, then," he says, working on the onions. "You'll save my ass from getting my fingers chopped."

Ada hums, amused.

"It's a little disturbing," she presses, and holds the baby carrot lazily toward his mouth. He takes a bite. "It doesn't really fit the 'tragic divorced man’ aesthetic that you're going for."

Leon gasps and points at the living room.

"Hey, I painted the walls, like you told me to," he appeals, offended. "It doesn't look that bad anymore."

She chews on another carrot, her feet sway idly from the edge of the counter.

"Only for the colorblind."

"Ha-ha, very funny."

Ada wonders, sometimes, what's the thing that makes them say the most hurtful things to each other during an argument, only to be in a situation like this months later, as if nothing had ever happened. Joking, eating baby carrots together and possibly concluding the evening with their tongues deep in each other's throats. It doesn't seem healthy, but then again, Ada doesn't know healthy. She has no point of reference for whatever thing she shares with Leon.

She likes it, though, that he isn't a resentful man. That he's open to forgive, time and time again, even when he shouldn't. That he kept on texting her even when it seemed he never would, when it seemed he had enough. He's too kind for all this shit. Too kind for his own good.

Does he think of her as kind, too? She can be kind, Ada thinks. At the right occasion and with the right people, that is. But she's capable of kindness, of tenderness and genuine affection. She's not a monster, after all. Leon makes her want to be a better person, sometimes. Reconsider some of her choices. It's almost inspiring.

Ada gets lost in her thoughts until Leon moves away from the counter to open the fridge, breathing out a "fuck" in pure frustration.

"What?" she asks.

"I ran out of butter."

She chews slowly, considering.

"And?"

His eyes find her, terribly amused.

"You're hopeless," he says, laughing softly. "Actually hopeless."

"I don't speak housewife, Leon."

"What do you mean by 'and'?" he shakes his head, laughing still. "Butter, Ada. The core of every recipe."

Ada stares at him for a second. This man can't simply be real.

"Can't you use something else instead?"

He sighs and grabs his jacket that's hanging on a rack.

"Let's go."

She frowns, confused.

"Go where?"

"To get some butter," he explains, adjusting his leather jacket around himself.

Ada blinks, still as a statue.

"Where?" she asks after a pause.

Leon laughs again, staring at her like she just grew a second head.

"The grocery store?" he says, checking his wallet for some cash. "Come on."

He walks towards the door, grabbing the keys, but Ada feels a sense of discomfort creeping on the inside. She hops off the counter and follows him, hesitating.

"I don't think that's wise."

Leon stops by the door, staring back at her.

He looks so clueless.

"Why not?"

Ada parts her lips, but only to close them a second later. She swallows hard, staring at Leon like she doesn't know what to say. They'd never done this before, never gone outside together like ordinary people—especially not into a crowded store. Ada wouldn't even use the main door of his apartment to visit him; she'd come through by the window, like a criminal. Whenever they crossed paths outside his apartment, Ada made sure there was some distance between them. Different sidewalks, different exits. It was dangerous. There were cameras outside his building, federal surveillance.

Has he lost his mind?

Ada stares at him in disbelief. It doesn't look like he cares, though.

"Let's go," he finally says, stepping outside the door till Ada has no choice but to follow suit.

What the hell is she doing?

They take a very structured route. Elevators, reception, the streets. She walks a few steps behind him, trying both to keep up and put some distance between them. He says the store is just one block away, but the streets are teeming with people and Ada feels the sudden rush to grab her grapple gun and climb up a rooftop, where she'd be hidden and safe. Crowds are okay, as long as she's working and playing a part. But, right now, she's not on a job, with a fake name and a fake story to tell.

She's Ada.

A different kind of Ada, though. The one Leon seems to be so obsessed with. The Ada who sleeps in his bed and steals his books. The Ada who lowers her walls and presses soft kisses to his face. The Ada who, only two weeks ago and for the first time in all the years they'd known each other, told him that she missed him.

He is a crisis to her very ambiguous identity. She's having a crisis, right now, and wants to run away and forget all about his cooking.

But her legs keep moving forward, following in his footsteps. They arrive at the store and Leon walks around the aisles, looking for the butter. Ada sighs, feeling like a guard dog, and her eyes scan around the building. She finds two security cameras at the entrance. Annoyed, she looks away, checking random products displayed on the shelves. Cheese, milk, veggies. Ada checks one of the fridges, inspecting a box of frozen chocolate raspberries.

In an instant, Leon seizes the box from her hands and adds it to his shopping bag. Ada looks up, perplexed, and tries to tell him that she didn't mean for him to buy it, that she was just looking, but Leon quickly moves toward the checkout, waiting in line to pay.

Ada swallows, so out of her fucking element, and follows until she stands behind him, arms crossed. The checkout line crawls slowly. The entire store feels unbearably bright to Ada, too crowded. Her gaze drifts aimlessly until it settles on a couple, a few feet away.

The girl stands tucked against her boyfriend's side, one arm wrapped loosely around his arm while he pushes the cart forward. They murmur to each other, something about milk and candy and a horror movie. Ada stares for a while, lost in her thoughts, until they disappear from her sight.

Instinctively, her eyes draw back towards Leon, standing comfortably like this is a normal thing for him to do. His arm is close enough so that if she were to reach him, she could loop her hand around it, just like she saw that girl do moments ago. Ada never did such a thing, never held hands in public, nor leaned against his shoulder as they walked. They are definitely not a couple, and the concept feels foreign to her. For a brief and imprudent moment, Ada wonders what it would feel like to hold on to the hem of his jacket.

Her hand lifts for a second, hesitant, and quickly pulls away the moment Leon advances through the line, oblivious. Feeling like a fucking idiot, Ada tucks her hands in the pockets of her jeans, following until he pays for the butter and the chocolates and they finally exit the store in silence. The night breeze engulfs their senses as they walk back to his apartment. This time, Ada tries to keep up instead of staying behind, eyes studying his expression from time to time.

He's whistling, content and clueless, at ease.

Ada never thought this could mean so much to him. That he could find solace in the simple things she had so much trouble enjoying, sometimes. Feeling greedy, Ada picks up the pace, walking alongside him until their shoulders graze.

Leon glances at her from the corner of his eye.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, cheerfully.

Her fingers itch with the need to brush back his hair, but she keeps them stiff inside her pockets.

"Sure," she lips curve into a tender smile.

It's so cold outside, yet she feels so warm.

You would feel warmer if you wrap your arm around his, her traitorous heart whispers in her ear.

Ah, shit.

They arrive at his apartment and Leon immediately resumes his place in the kitchen, taking the butter out of the bag and putting the chocolate-covered raspberries in the fridge for later.

But Ada leans against the doorway, quietly watching.

The sleeves of his grey shirt remain pushed to his elbows, his strong arms flexing as he chops the remaining onions over the cutting board. The scenery fits him, really. He looks good fighting bioweapons and handling pistols without even blinking, but there's something about the way the yellow lightning in the kitchen makes his hair glow, humming a song as he mutters soft curses under his breath whenever he realizes he forgot something.

Ada can't tear her gaze away from him, and the realization arrives quietly enough to frighten her.

She longs for this.

Leon chuckling peacefully while searching through cabinets. Leon revealing the secret to perfect, smooth, mashed potatoes. Leon buying chocolate-covered raspberries for her because she held the packaging in her hands for a millisecond and he boldly assumed she wanted them. Leon napping on his couch. Leon shaving in the bathroom.

Leon, Leon, Leon, Leon—

Silently, her feet shuffle through the kitchen floor, and toward him. Leon barely has time to glance over his shoulder before her arms slide around his waist from behind. He stills for a second, but doesn't say a word, and resumes his work on the counter.

Ada presses her cheek carefully against his back and closes her eyes. He's so warm, and broad, and endearing, and she finds herself clutching him even tighter.

And because he's a smart bastard who can read her like she's a picture book made for a toddler, he asks, softly.

"You okay?"

She can't help but tease him.

"Am I interrupting your five-star Michelin dinner?" Her lips press gently over his back.

She can't look at his face from this position, but she already knows he's smiling.

"You will if you keep doing that."

Ada hums thoughtfully against his back, pretending to consider as her fingertips drift lazily over his stomach, beneath the fabric of his shirt. She feels his belly tighten beneath her touch.

It brings a smile to her face.

He's so, so lame.

"Doing what?"

Her hand aims to reach even lower, but Leon laughs, prying her arms away from his waist and turning around to face her.

"It's really hard to get shit done when you're here," he comments, and his onion-smelling hands brush back a few strands of her hair. She doesn't mind. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."

Ada wraps her arms tight around his neck, forcing him to scrunch a little because she isn't wearing high heels.

"You should be grateful, then," she says, dragging her lips across his jaw in slow, innocent kisses. "I saved you from a really boring evening, haven't I? You looked miserable when I came."

Leon scoffs and wraps his hands around her waist.

"Miserable is an exaggeration," he tries to play cool, but Ada knows him enough and he did look quite sad and pathetic when she first arrived.

His eyes brightened the moment he saw her knock on his window.

"Mhm," her lips hum against his jaw. "Don't miss me too much, handsome."

"Mission failure," he jokes, leaning against her touch. He gives a deep, heavy sigh of surrender. "I always miss you."

Ada feels warm all of a sudden. Soft and compliant and flattered by something she already knows, yet likes to hear from his lips over and over. She kisses him, pulling him closer, and Leon indulges her until she begins to step backward, dragging him along.

Her intentions are clear.

"W-Wait—" Leon mumbles against her mouth, torn between wanting to speak and kissing her. "The steak—"

"Isn't going anywhere," she finishes, gasping into the kiss and growing a little restless as her hands dig deeper into his scalp. "And neither am I."

And for the first time since, well, forever…

When Leon wakes up in the morning, Ada is still by his side.

THE FIRST TIME ADA CRIED IN FRONT OF HIM

Your sweet smile, so good to me, so right
And how you held me in your arms that September night,
The first time you ever saw me cry

-

The moment Ada hears the door of his apartment, her fingers hastily wipe away the tears hidden beneath the steady stream of his shower, where they are concealed and camouflaged. She'd only just returned from a two-month mission in Sudan, crashing in Leon's place right after landing in America. However, the large sum deposited into her bank account after completing the job did little to fill the void that continued to widen inside her chest.

Ada used to believe she possessed quite the stomach for grotesque scenes and life-threatening situations. She'd witnessed too much horror in this life, but when you're constantly exposed to depravaties far too large to fit into this world, the walls of insensitivity and emotional detachment keep building higher and higher, until you become numb to it all.

Perhaps, she was not as emotionally detached as she once thought. Perhaps Leon had played a big part in that development.

"I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow," Leon greets as he steps into the bathroom, reaching for the faucet and rinsing his face in cold water.

Ada keeps her back to him, eyes fixed on the blue-tiled walls.

It takes her a huge amount of emotional effort to give an ordinary reply.

"I took an early flight," she says, but the strain in her voice betrays her immediately. Ada curses under her breath. After a quick attempt to clear the tightness in her throat, she adds, lighter this time, "I ate your ice cream, by the way."

But Leon is an expert at reading the room. He makes a pause, and she hears him moving things around on the sink.

Ada goes still, breath shallow.

"What happened in Sudan?"

His voice is impossibly soft, but it tears straight through her. Sometimes it unsettles her, how easily he can read her. She hasn't looked at him once since he walked in, yet Leon already knows something is off. Slowly, Ada turns just enough to glance over her shoulder, enough to see him leaning his arms against the sink, waiting like he already knows she'll speak when she's ready.

He's so patient. She doesn't deserve it.

Ada drops her gaze again, fingers dragging weakly through her damp hair as the warm water turns cold against her skin.

"I…" Her mouth opens, but the words remain stuck in her throat. "I was tasked to meet an informant in a refugee camp in Darfur. But… the place was attacked, and…"

She stops, unable to go on, and her eyes gather with tears, blurring her sight. She quickly blinks them away.

"Were you hurt?"

Ada shakes her head, and her eyes squeeze shut as she struggles to steady herself. A wobbly breath escapes her lips.

"No, but—" her gaze darts desperately around the tiles, as if hoping to find something to hold on to. "There was this little girl, her mother was killed and she was hiding. She saw me, and I… I threw a rug over her body so she'd stay hidden while I was—but when I came back to check on her, she… she was…"

And then, Ada breaks.

Terribly ashamed, she hides her face in the palms of her hands, as if that act alone would conceal her from Leon's sight, but she ignores the fact that Leon doesn't need to open his eyes to see her. She'd been a recurrent ghost throughout his life, a phantom that visited his nightmares and slept in his bed. Suddenly, Ada feels sorry about too many things, all at once, and her mind searches endlessly for the chance to apologize.

He could do so much better without her in his life.

He, who is so righteous. He, who wouldn't have let that little girl die for the sake of a mission. How many people died because she refused to abandon an assignment? How many lives lost and forgotten, for the sake of a client who would dispose of her the moment she became a liability? Waves of endless shame pour down on her, drenching her body with the blood of eternal martyrs.

But Ada fails to acknowledge that this pain no longer belongs solely to her, and that Leon would gladly share the load if she just let him.

All she has to do, truly, is let him.

The glass doors open wide and Leon steps into the shower. Cold water immediately darkens the fabric of his dress shirt as his arms wrap around her with a force that nearly knocks the breath out of her. She wants to protest, angry at herself, don't, you'll ruin your clothes, it's not worth it, it's not worth it—

But she sags against him, sobs pressed to his chest. The water now pours over both, but he still doesn't let go. His fingers thread along her damp hair, his lips press firmly against the top of her head.

"I know," he soothes, and his voice sounds as unstable as her own. "I know how it feels."

Ada chokes, stubbornly shaking her head. Her fingers dig painfully into his back, but he doesn't pull away.

"I shouldn't have left her there," she stammers. She can't fucking breathe. "I should have stayed. You would have stayed."

He gasps, tightening his grip around her.

"You did all you could," his words reverberate in her skin, pressing her body against him like he wants to carve a place inside his chest where she could hide forever. "You did all you could, Ada."

Is this truly how it feels? She wants to ask him.

Is this how you felt all those years ago, when you thought I died, and you blamed yourself?

Ada cries harder at the thought, past the point of rational thinking or perpetual embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," she weeps, pressing harder against him. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey, hey…" he hushes, kissing her temple. "You're okay, I've got you. I'm here, you're okay."

To the last hour of her life, Ada thought, she would recall the way Leon buried his face in her neck and whispered her name, over and over again, as if every other word had been forgotten forever in the depths of her sobbing.

To the last hour.

THE FIRST TIME ADA SAID YES (—AND "I LOVE YOU")

Is it cool that I said all that?
Is it chill that you're in my head?
Cause I know that it's delicate

-

Leon enters the motel in a hurry, angry beyond repair, and slams the door once she gets inside. Ada sighs, gently shrugging off her scarf. She takes a seat by the edge of the bed, staring at Leon with a bored expression.

"We're getting too old for this shit, don't you think?" he snaps, taking off his jacket with a little too much force as he throws it over a chair, leaving him in a plain black dress shirt.

Ada arches a brow.

"Old?" she huffs a laugh, slightly annoyed. "Speak for yourself."

He squints his eyes. "That's not the point."

"Then what is?"

Leon stares for a moment, considering, and blurts out an exasperated sigh. Ada bites the impulse to smile, always enjoying the way in which she turns this patient man into a tight ball of anxiety. It's cute, she believes. The way she can both rile him up so easily and bring him down to his knees with a single stare. And it's not that she takes pleasure in his anger, but an angry Leon Kennedy is, well, kind of hot.

And the years were really, extremely kind to him. Her eyes eat him up without shame, and Leon grimaces.

"Stop looking at me like that."

Ada sneers, tilting her head.

"Like what, handsome?"

"I'm tired, Ada," he finally says, standing in front of her. "And I think you are too."

She pauses, staring down at her hands. She rubs her knuckles, calm as the dawn before the city wakes, when she lies peacefully in Leon's arms and wishes she didn't have to run off to some horrible corner of the world, away from him.

"Tired of me?" she wonders, barely a whisper.

Leon's expression softens, brows furrowing in sympathy.

"Never," he speaks his truth, solemnly. He gives a small shake of his head. "I'll never grow tired of you."

Ada delivers a faint, sad smile.

"Well, that's too bad, isn't it?"

His blue, wrinkled eyes wander all over her features, drinking her in, studying her expression like she's some kind of valuable artefact he wants to steal from a museum and hide in his basement, all for himself.

"What are we doing here, Ada?" he questions, gentler now. His finger points at the space between them, trying to put a name to something that survived this long without a definition. "What have we been doing for the past eleven years? You said labels complicated everything, but that was ages ago, when we were young and dumb and you were an insufferable, stubborn woman and I was a—"

"A crybaby?" she finishes for him, calmly.

Leon blinks, unsure if he should be offended, but huffs out a laugh instead.

"Yeah, well," he nods a few times, somewhat agreeing with her statement. "Yeah, I sure was."

Ada chuckles fondly, eyes bright with eleven years of unwavering affection.

Leon sighs, walking until he crouches in front of her, tucking her short hair behind her ears. Ada leans against his touch, and her own fingers quickly find the skin of his jaw, stroking his cheekbones.

"I'm tired of seeing you every once in a while whenever you decide to show up or accidentally crossing paths on a job, and I know you are too," he cups her face. "You keep finding reasons to stay another hour, when you used to just leave in the middle of the night without saying goodbye."

Well, fuck.

Ada gasps, amused, and lowers her gaze to avoid his piercing eyes.

"You've been very observant."

"I know you want to stay," he declares, without a flicker of doubt. "What's stopping you?"

She hesitates, expression growing more serious as she realizes where the conversation is heading. Nothing is stopping her, really. At least, nothing that she can't handle, anyway. The things that used to scare her no longer do. The people she used to be wary of no longer feel as intimidating. She'd been taking fewer jobs lately, making sure she knew who she was working for before accepting an offer, refusing to be used as another weapon for the pleasure of sick, greedy bastards.

She has Leon to thank for that.

And she's good, so damn good at her job. She can take down anyone who stands in her way, even the big guys whose names stay hidden in the shadows.

So, what's stopping her? Truly?

"Are you afraid?" Leon asks, considering her lack of answer. He brushes his thumb over her cheekbones, studying her expression. "You think something bad will happen?"

Ada's eyes soften, and she turns her face to press a kiss on his hand. Her sweet, gentle Leon. Always playing the hero, always wanting to be the knight in shining armor.

"It's not me who I'm worried about, Leon."

Leon rolls his eyes, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

"Please," he snorts, brushing his lips over her skin. "There's no need to worry about me, you know how much ass I can kick."

She chuckles, nodding, and avoids telling him that if it weren't for her, he wouldn't even be alive right now, but decides to humor him. She'd been humoring him quite a lot lately, instead of arguing against him.

"You know, I never told you this before, but…" she pauses, still avoiding his gaze. She swallows, licking her lips. "You've been the closest thing to a friend I've ever had. You can't blame me if I worry a little too much, sometimes."

Leon arches a brow; he looks offended.

"Are you friend-zoning me, Ada?"

Ada laughs.

She's been laughing a lot more lately, too.

"Don't twist my words, rookie."

Leon chuckles.

"So, what is that you're trying to say, exactly?"

Ada decides to be a little brave, just this once, and meet his eyes for longer than five seconds.

"That I really do love you," she makes a pause, thinking that perhaps she'd feel terrified again, as she did all those years ago whenever she tried to open up to him and speak her mind. But Ada is startled to find that she doesn't feel unease, but relief. "And I would feel really sad if something bad happened to you because of me."

For a moment, Ada can't read his expression, which is a rare thing. He seems to be thinking about something, and Ada grows impatient when he doesn't respond. Isn't this the part where he's supposed to say that he feels the same way? That he loves her, too? She knows that, of course, but Ada finds herself frowning a little.

Is he really going to say nothing to that?

She parts her lips, uneasy.

"Leon—"

"Look," he cuts in, and Ada notices the anxiety right away. "I'm… I'm going to do something really fucking stupid right now, okay? And I know it's going to scare the shit out of you, but—"

"Leon."

He fumbles with the pockets of his trousers, searching for something. Ada follows the motion, both curious and extremely confused, and feels the color drain from her face when he takes a pair of silver rings.

Ada gasps, appalled.

"What—"

"This is not what you think," he rushes to say. "Or, well, maybe it is, I don't know. Just hear me out for a sec."

Her mind goes blank. She is thankful that he wants to do all the talking, for she has no idea what the fuck she is supposed to say. Leon takes a deep, heavy breath and exhales loudly, as if trying to regulate his body for whatever the hell he's about to do right now.

"You once told me that we are not normal people," he starts, unafraid to look at her straight in the eye. "And you're right, we are not. We will never be like everyone else, and we don't have to be. This is not a marriage proposal, at least, not the conventional one. We can't do that shit, I get it. But we can do this, Ada. We can have something, in our own way, and it will be enough for me. And you don't have to give me an answer right now. I've waited for eleven years; I sure as hell can wait a week or two. And, look, they're not even golden rings, so it's not like it will draw attention. And they are cheap as hell, I got them from a—"

"Alright."

Leon stops mid-sentence.

For a second, he looks at her as if she'd just slapped him across the face with a baseball bat. His brows pull together slightly; she can see that his hands are shaking, the two silver rings—iron, no doubt. She knows her way around jewelry—jolting in his quivering, sweaty palms.

"… Alright?" he dares ask, features contorted in pure, utter disbelief.

Ada represses the smirk and the desperate need to mock the shit out of him.

"Alright," is her simple reply, as she takes one of the rings and puts it around her finger.

Her phone beeps. She checks the screen; it's 4:00 PM, and there are places she needs to be. Ada walks over to grab her scarf, ready to leave.

"I… Okay?" Leon mutters to himself. From the corner of her eye, she watches as he lowers himself carefully onto the mattress and scratches the back of his nape. "That was easy."

Ada wraps the scarf around her neck.

"Do you love me, though?" she inquires, biting her cheek to suppress the smirk. Her tone is dry, almost accusatory. "You didn't say it back."

Leon looks at her like he's trying to figure out if she's being serious right now, or trying to bullshit him, as usual. He decides it's both.

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head in pure disbelief.

"I love the shit out of you, woman."

Ada nods, satisfied.

"Good."

Before she opens the door, he speaks again.

"Will I see you tonight?"

Ada glances at him over her shoulder, a hand on the knob and a playful smile tugging at her lips.

"Maybe," she shrugs. "If you're good."

Leon smiles back.

"Then I'll see you tonight."

THE FIRST TIME ADA STEPPED INTO THE LIGHT WITH HIM

And I know I make the same mistakes everytime,
Bridges burn, I never learn
At least I did one thing right

-

"I can't believe you're making me do this."

Ada sits, cross-legged, over the hood of Leon's Porsche.

They are parked a short distance from the warehouse, out in the open, without a single soul to notice their presence. The perfect place, really, to meet up in secret with the Captain of Special Operations Unit, the famous Chris Redfield.

"It's fine," Leon says for the tenth time, pacing around with his hands in his pockets. "I'll do all the talking, anyway."

Ada sighs, slightly annoyed.

"What is taking him so long?" She looks around the perimeter, not a single bird passing by. The place is as desolate as a desert. "You know, in my line of work, punctuality is a virtue."

"Ada," he gives her a look, clearly getting on his nerves.

She chuckles.

"What has you so fearful? You don't trust my eloquence?"

"Your eloquence, as you call it, can become a bit tedious, sometimes."

"Don't be scared, handsome," she says lightly, staring at the sun slowly hiding behind grey clouds. It will rain soon. "I can handle the likes of Redfield and more."

She smiles when he offers no reply. He can't argue with that.

The sudden low rumble of an engine makes Ada's eyes squint into the far distance. It takes her a few minutes before she sees it, but the shape of a military truck emerges from the darkness at the edge of the lot. She laughs at the way Leon exhales and runs a hand through his hair in pure anxiety. She can't blame him after all that happened in China a few years back, but Ada isn't afraid of the BSAA.

She's fearless, now.

Gently, her thumb grazes the iron wrapped around her finger.

She's fearless.

The blue Jeep slows as it approaches, tires crunching loudly. Soon enough, the soldier boys jump off the back and a very muscular, very mighty Chris Redfield stands before them. He's armed, of course, with a serious expression and a squad following right behind him.

He shakes hands with Leon.

"Chris," Leon greets fondly. "Thanks for—"

"You're late, Captain,” Ada disrupts quietly, behind Leon.

The silence that follows is almost comical. Ada doesn't even approach to stand beside Leon, she continues to rest comfortably on the hood of the car, cross-legged like she's some kind of queen who's above this whole deal. Funny, considering she was the one who suggested it, but she wasn't counting on her participation, only her distant involvement.

But Leon thought it would be appropriate if she showed up, too.

Chris's eyes drag slowly towards her, serious as a rock. Leon does the same, briefly, the words "let me do the talking" screaming behind his eyes.

She ignores them both.

"My apologies," he simply says, eyes going back to Leon, softer now. "We got delayed. It's getting harder to move without the BSAA breathing down my neck. I had to double back, make sure we weren't being followed."

"Can't say I'm surprised," Leon sighs, hands resting around his hips. "I'm glad you could make it."

"You said you had intel for me?" Chris asks.

"Yeah, we… well," Leon pauses, slightly turning towards Ada. "She does, actually."

Chris nods.

"Huh," he says, eyes going back and forth between the two. "So you're just… what? An intermediary?"

Leon chuckles, amused.

"Yeah, you could say that."

Finally, Chris turns his gaze towards her. She can see the conflict in his eyes, and Ada wonders if it's hard for him to look at her, considering that the woman who wiped out his entire team looked exactly like her. She can't blame him, really, and that was the reason she'd declined Leon's offer to come with him.

But, well.

He could be quite persistent, sometimes. In ways that would be a bit too lewd to explain.

"Alright," Chris sighs, willing to comply. "What do you have?"

Ada delivers a soft grin in response.

"Oh, I'll tell you all about it," she pauses, enjoying this perhaps a little too much. "Once you release the international warrant you have against me."

Chris sneers, shaking his head.

"I should have known there would be a catch."

"No catch at all," Ada clarifies, and delivers a slight shrug. "Just a fair trade."

She notices the conflict brewing in his eyes, torn between duty and reason. He knows he can no longer trust the BSAA as he once did, so he really doesn't have a choice anymore.

"You can trust her, Chris," Leon promises, jumping in her defense.

Chris sighs, and his eyes fall onto the silver ring around Leon's finger. He's a smart man, Ada thinks, when his eyes catch the same replica in her hand, too. He doesn't seem surprised, though.

Finally, he nods.

"Alright," he agrees. "Your warrant will be issued tomorrow."

With a solemn nod, Ada hops off the hood and opens the back seat, grabbing a black folder. She walks towards Chris, standing beside Leon, and hands it to him.

"The Connections," she begins, voice clear and professional. "An international crime syndicate in charge of both selling and creating bioweapons. They secretly operate behind every major worldwide organization. I believe they might be involved in the Louisiana case you're investigating."

Chris frowns, eyes darting between the two.

"How do you—?"

"Don't bother asking, she won't say a thing," Leon sighs, already used to her bullshit. "Sherry and I are looking into this, too, and the information is suspiciously scarce. I'm afraid this is big, Chris. You should be careful."

Captain Redfield opens the folder, skipping through the pages. He looks worried, but he nods, eyes falling over Ada.

"Thank you," he says, closing the folder. "Do you think the BSAA might be involved? They've been acting weird lately. I tried to do some digging of my own, but they didn't like that."

"There might be a few wolves in sheep's clothing among your ranks," Ada hints carefully, hoping he catches the implication. "So, Leon is right, you should exercise caution."

Chris exhales through his nose, the disappointment settling all over his face as he delivers a small nod.

"Will do."

"Make sure that Claire receives a copy, too" Leon suggests. "TerraSave might be involved, for all we know."

"Fuck my life," Chris hisses as he drags his gloved hand over his face, suddenly exhausted. "Will this shit ever end?"

"At least now we know."

"Now we know," Chris agrees, holding onto Leon's words. "Well, thank you again. I'll reach out if I find anything else."

He shakes hands with Leon.

"Thanks for coming, Chris."

"Anytime. Say hi to Sherry for me.”

”Of course.”

Leon walks over to the Porsche, Chris and his team drift toward their Jeep, but just before Ada can follow, she stops midway, hesitating.

"Chris?" she calls softly.

The Captain turns back, his team continuing without him. Wind threads through the space between them, ruffling her raven hair.

"I'm really sorry about your squad," she adds quietly, "If… the real me had been there at the time, perhaps things might have turned out differently. For both of us."

Chris doesn't answer immediately. His jaw tightens slightly, eyes holding hers for a brief second before nodding in agreement.

"Yeah," he pauses. "I know."

Ada gives a small nod before turning back toward the Porsche, joining Leon on the passenger seat. He turns the key, and the engine comes to life with a low, steady rumble. Soon enough, the horizon stretches far and wide all around them. Ada flips down the visor mirror to fix her mascara.

"Well," Leon says, finally. "That went better than I expected."

"You worry over nothing," Ada hums, fixing her red lipstick. "I'm a very likeable person, believe it or not."

He grins.

"You'll be a free woman tomorrow," he jokes, rolling down the windows to let some breeze inside. "Your criminal days are finally over."

"Lucky me."

Leon takes her hand, thumb lazily stroking the ring on her finger.

"Does this mean we can actually go out and have some dinner tomorrow night?"

Ada stares down at their hands. She wraps her fingers around him, resting her head on the backseat with a contented sigh.

"Mhm," her eyes fall shut. She feels sleepy all of a sudden. "Depends."

"On what?"

"Have you suddenly become awful at cooking that you want to go out to a fancy restaurant instead?"

Leon blurts out a soft laugh.

"Alright, so that's a no."

She squeezes his hand once.

"I just have high standards, handsome."

He nods, willing to comply.

"Steak, then?"

"As long as you don't forget the butter."

With a quiet laugh, so familiar now to her ears, Leon presses a kiss to her knuckles, never letting go of her hand. And, for once in their long, complicated lives, neither of them feels like they're running out of time.

There isn't anywhere else they need to be, anyway.