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She finds him drinking alone in a bar in Budapest.
Not intentionally, she would later assert. This city doesn’t hold any particular significance to them. Paris, Shanghai, and now Budapest – it’s just another place to add to the ever-growing list of their chance encounters through the years.
She supposes she should find it funny, the way they keep circling back to each other, time and time again. That isn’t intentional, either. Or at least it isn’t most of the time. Much as it perplexes her, it’s almost like there’s an invisible string tying them together, and no matter how much they stretch and pull at it, it remains stubbornly intact, inevitably leading them back to each other, against all odds.
Over time, she came to not only expect these encounters, but also anticipate them with a sort of breathless excitement that ought to make her embarrassed. She tried to rationalize it, at first. That it wasn’t because she felt any sort of attachment to him specifically, not any more than any other lover she’d taken over the years. That he was simply a vaguely familiar pit stop in her endlessly rootless existence, something she could return to and be welcomed back with a sort of eagerness unabated by time or distance.
It’s a lie, of course. But it’s a safe, comfortable buffer. It keeps her from having to untangle the nature of their relationship in too much detail, allows her to focus on the mission without any unnecessary distractions.
As she watches him sitting there, shoulders slumped and head hung, she wonders if it would be for the best to just let him be, to just slip away before she’s noticed. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s contemplated this, but somehow, she never quite managed to stay away.
So before she can think better of it, Ada is strutting over to the bar, her own clicking heels emboldening her every move. Leon doesn’t move, doesn’t even acknowledge her presence as she slides into the barstool next to his and orders a tequila.
“You look like you could use some company,” she says, leaning her elbows on the hardwood, watching as the bartender prepares her drink.
Leon brings his own drink to his lips. “Do I?” he asks, and he sounds so unsurprised that a stupid, irrational part of her thinks he’s known all along that she’s here, could sense her presence all the way across this old city from the moment she arrived.
She shakes herself, watching as he takes a long sip before setting the glass down with a resounding thud. He smiles mirthlessly at her. “Of course, you'd know all about it.”
Something about the way he said it - grave, serious, not a hint of his usual banter - stirs a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. It’s become somewhat of a routine for them, this verbal repartee that they both relish in. It’s only a game, the constant back-and-forth, the playful banter that carefully straddles the line between antagonistic and flirty. But it’s never serious because making it serious means having to acknowledge something else there, hidden and buried underneath all that bravado.
Something neither of them is ready to face quite yet, even after all these years.
He’s always countered her barbs with lightning-fast cracks of his own, always with that same dry wit and sardonic attitude. It’s another thing she’s come to expect from him. But his reaction just now, that was different. It went beyond that familiar routine and somersaulted right into uncharted territory, and she doesn’t quite know how to react. It trips her up, sends her brain into overdrive trying to figure out what it all means.
Fortunately, at that very moment, the bartender slides her drink over, giving her hands something to do and sparing her mind from dwelling too much on it. She wraps her perfectly manicured hands around the glass and keeps her gaze straight ahead. “Maybe not, but I know you.”
Leon heaves a heavy sigh, and when he turns back to her, she thinks she can see a bit of his usual sardonic self in his eyes. “So, missed me that much, huh?”
She feels the muscles in her shoulders relax. Just like that, the world seems to realign itself on its axis. This is good, this is familiar. She can work with this. So she latches onto it, desperate to forget about her terrifying brush with the undefinable.
(Another safe, comfortable buffer.)
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she says. “I was just passing by.”
“Hmmm,” he hums. “And out of all the bars in this city-”
“Happy coincidence,” she shrugs, sipping on her drink to hide a smile. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Would’ve been easier to just admit you missed me,” he shoots back.
She rolls her eyes. “If believing that makes you feel better.”
He leans over to her, their elbows almost touching. “I’ll take that as an admission of guilt, then.”
“The only thing I’m guilty of is attempting to provide you with the pleasure of my company,” she says lightly. “But if that’s such a crime-”
Ada makes to slide off the stool, but he moves to lightly touch her hand with his own. It’s hardly enough to stop her, but she does anyway, throwing him a questioning look.
“And now you’re already depriving me of it,” he says, inclining his head at her glass of tequila. “After you’ve gone through the trouble of ordering, no less. Might as well stay and drink with me.”
She suppresses a satisfied smirk as his fingers move slowly to trace circles on the back of her hand. When he looks at her, his eyes seem almost brighter, the gloomy air that has surrounded him since the moment she saw him receding somewhat. It sends a wave of pleasure straight to the pit of her stomach.
Maybe she can’t fix whatever’s weighing down on him, but she can help him forget, for just a little while, in her own way. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.”
Leon passes his glass over to the bartender with a curt request for a refill. His gaze sweeps over her body, and suddenly, Ada is glad she chose a dress that hugs just the right curves of her figure.
After making a show of contemplating her words, he feigns an epiphany. “Ah, yes. Your company. The thing you said I needed.”
She nods sagely. “Desperately, I would say, considering you were drowning your sorrows in a bar all alone.”
He raises one eyebrow, half amused and half incredulous. “I wasn’t drowning anything.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she quips. “Perhaps wallowing would better describe your current plight.”
He gives her a withering look, but the smile on his lips is almost fond. “You’re impossible.”
“You know you love me,” she says, unthinkingly, before the words fully register in her mind. She sees something flicker across Leon’s expression, something unfamiliar and unreadable, and quickly adds, “One drink.”
He smiles again. “That’s all I ask.”
Three drinks and one conversation - laden with teasing glances and almost-touches - later, Ada finds herself discreetly checking her watch. It isn’t discreet enough, as Leon catches the subtle movement of her wrist from the corner of his eye.
She should’ve known that nothing would escape his attention. They’ve known each other for far too long now, he must’ve grown attuned to the tiniest movements of her body language. Sometimes, she wonders if he can see through her easily with just one look, all of her secrets laid bare for his perusal.
“You’ve got somewhere to be?” he asks. His voice is casual, almost nonchalant, but she recognizes something else in it. A hint of something akin to disappointment. She knows because she’s heard it in his voice so many times, in the early hours before dawn, in the quiet spaces that they share, their temporary shelter from the world outside.
Every time, it chips away at her resolve, slowly but surely, like water eroding stone. She’s afraid that one day, she might give in. But try as she might, she cannot stay away for long, and that temptation has never been clearer than it was tonight, when her desire to be close to him overrode her instinct to slip off into the night.
She wonders how long she has left before it consumes her whole.
Before Ada can say anything, Leon finishes his drink and swiftly sets the glass onto the countertop. “Let me walk you back.”
“If you wanted to find out where I’m staying, all you had to do was ask,” she jokes, almost on autopilot than anything else, and finds it doesn’t quite land. Still, she doesn’t reject his offer. “I’m just over at the Four Seasons.”
He nods, turns back to pay for their tab, and together, they exit the bar. The merciless autumn wind whips at her face as they step out into the bitter November cold. Even bundled up in her layers, she can barely suppress a shiver.
Wordlessly, they walk down the street, staying close but not touching. Perhaps being outside in this cold night air and surrounded by other people has made them feel exposed enough to instinctively put their walls back up, walls that most certainly weren’t there when they were within the confines of that small, dingy bar.
Ada doesn’t mind, though. She enjoys their companionable silence just as much as their constant, relentless back-and-forth. They don’t feel compelled to fill every second with mindless chatter, and they’ve exhausted every topic imaginable back in that bar, anyway.
Far too soon, they arrive at the grand façade of the Four Seasons Hotel Gresham Palace, its exterior illuminated by golden lights. For a moment they simply stand there, taking it in. She turns to Leon, finds him gazing upward, his breath visible in the bitter cold.
She wants to savor this moment a bit longer, but knows better than to wish for something so dangerous. She could get lost in it, and then that would be it for her. So instead she clears her throat, and says, “This is me.”
Leon’s hand reaches out toward her, before stopping mid-way. It hovers uselessly in the space between them for a few seconds, before he shoves it into the pocket of his worn jacket.
Ada suppresses a wave of disappointment threatening to crash down on her head.
“It was good seeing you, Ada,” he says simply.
“Aren’t you glad you did? I’m sure your night would’ve been painfully dull otherwise,” she quips. It lands a bit flatter than she intended, but she steadfastly maintains her poker face.
Leon lets out a soft laugh, and she finds her gaze fixed on the way his breath fogs up the air. He looks breathtaking, and so painfully real.
“Sure would’ve been,” he replies with a smile that doesn’t quite manage to look convincing. Something tugs at her insides at the sight. “Just… try not to let another two years pass before I do, yeah?”
She wants to say something, preferably something snarky that will ease the sudden heaviness in her chest, something that will lighten the air around them and maybe put one of those smirks that she secretly loves so much on his face, but nothing comes.
Leon doesn’t look like he expected an answer, and so with a shrug he turns to leave. “Goodnight, Ada.”
Apparently that’s when her vocal cords start working again, because before she can stop herself, she’s taking a step toward him. “Leon, wait.”
She doesn’t wait for him to react, nor does she allow the more rational part of her brain time to rethink, before she’s rushing forward and pulling him into a deep, breathless kiss. He freezes momentarily, and it reminds her so much of their first kiss in that damned cable car so long ago, sloppy and awkward and full of confusing emotions. It sends a jolt of electricity through her body, all the way down to her fingertips.
But then he wraps his arms around her with an urgency that draws a smile out of her despite herself, his lips responding to hers with equal fervor, and the memory dissipates in an instant. After that first time, never again was Leon stunned motionless by her lips. On the contrary, his kisses have grown hungrier and more desperate with every encounter. He kisses her like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to memorize every part of her as best he can, almost like he’s afraid it’s the last time.
Something akin to satisfaction settles in her stomach. No matter how many years have passed and despite the things that have happened between them, he will always want her with a passion that only seems to intensify with age.
They break apart, foreheads resting together, breathing heavily. She keeps her eyes closed, listening as Leon heaves a soft, almost contented sigh.
When Ada finally looks at him, she can’t stop the plea that falls from her lips. “Stay.”
For a moment, he looks like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing, and she allows herself a small degree of pleasure at having caught him off-guard. These moments have gotten few and far between as time goes by, but just knowing that she can still surprise him is enough to spur her on.
He tilts his head slightly. “That’s usually my line.”
“I’m happy to relieve you of that burden. You’re welcome,” she cranes her neck to whisper in his ear. “Stay with me tonight.”
He regards her for a long moment, a thousand different emotions flitting across his face. Pained, hopeful, conflicted. It’s another sight she has observed time and time again, the way he wrestles with the part of him that she knows deep down, wants her just as much as she wants him.
Leon shakes his head, a rueful smile on his lips. “You’re not being fair, Ada.”
She can read it all so clearly in his eyes, the unspoken accusation. You never stayed when I asked. And he’s right, perhaps it’s selfish of her to expect from him what she herself would not willingly offer. But she’s maybe just a tiny bit drunk and he’s standing in front of her looking devastatingly beautiful in the middle of this luminous city, and damn it, to hell with sense and rationality, she wants him.
“I know you,” she replies. “I know what you want.”
“Oh yeah?” he edges even closer to her, a challenging look in his eyes. “And what is that?”
She meets his gaze unflinchingly. “The same thing I do.”
“Ada-”
“What do you want, Leon?”
He looks at her, his brows knitted together. Conflicting emotions seem to flit across his face, half bathed in the light, half obscured by the darkness.
“Stay,” she says, and finds she’s never meant anything more in her life.
They stand there, staring each other down, before he pulls her against his own body and kisses her.
It’s a foregone conclusion, of course. She knows it already, that they’ll come back to each other, no matter what. But first, they’ll kick and scream and fight against that terrifying inevitability, even if they know it’s all in vain. They’re both stubborn, proud creatures, after all.
But then Leon’s lips move down the length of her throat as she runs her fingers through his hair and suddenly, none of it matters anymore.
They stumble into her suite in a blur of clumsy, barely restrained limbs. Ada makes a half-hearted attempt at locating the light switch before giving up. They’ve always been more comfortable in the dark, anyway. Darkness has always provided a certain kind of safety, where they could pretend, for a few precious hours, that there weren’t a million reasons they shouldn’t be together, where they could lose themselves in pure, unadulterated ecstasy, where reason and logic seem a thousand miles away.
This time’s no different. She guides him inside, and one by one they discard each other’s clothes in a trail leading to the bed, not once taking their hands or mouths off each other as they do so. She pushes him onto the expensive mattress and climbs on top of him, and as his toned, muscular body arches into her heat with her every movement, she can barely suppress a rush of pleasure. No matter what, his body will always yield under her command, and the knowledge leaves her feeling dangerously powerful.
Then Leon is trailing hot, fervent kisses down her neck that draw a gasp from her. His hands explore the curve of her breasts before traveling down the length of her spine, where they dig into her skin, and Ada allows herself to admit that maybe, just maybe, there’s more to this than simply a masochistic addiction to a familiar presence.
He makes her feel alive in a way no one else can. Sometimes, being with him feels like the only thing in her life that’s real, and she can’t help but want more of it.
More of him, she thinks as she sinks her teeth down on his skin, marking him as her own.
She wakes before dawn.
It’s an old habit that she’s never been able to shake. Not that she wants to, there’s always been some kind of comfort in being awake when most people are still asleep. It makes her feel in control and allows her to get a head start on things, which in her profession, is sometimes the difference between life and death.
Of course, that’s not always the case. Sometimes, it simply means getting up and slipping away before Leon wakes up and she has to deal with the uncomfortable morning-after. The few times it did happen were painful. There were probing questions and lingering looks, now laid bare before her eyes in the absence of the darkness of the night. Ada has never been good with words, nor a follower of social conventions, so she chooses to run every chance she gets. She hates leaving Leon, but she hates having to confront the truth of what they are to each other even more.
So she runs, knowing that it breaks him a little more every time she does, knowing that he won’t have it in him to hate her for it.
Not this time. This time, she’s lying in bed next to him in a hotel room she booked under a fake name, and for the first time ever, there’s nowhere to run.
Leon shifts slightly, drawing her attention back to him. In his sleep, he always looks so peaceful, unguarded in a way that he never seems to be while awake. Her heart suddenly swells with a strange sort of affection, and she impulsively reaches out a hand to gently brush his hair out of his face, committing the sensation to memory. It’s gotten slightly longer since the last time she saw him, and she wonders how much longer he’ll let it grow before it starts looking ridiculous.
She wonders how it’ll look the next time she sees him, and a lump in her throat rises so suddenly that she quickly banishes the thought.
Still, a persistent inner voice nags at her. If she hates leaving him so much, why does she?
Leon shifts again, his arm moving to wrap around her body, and all thoughts in her head stop as she turns toward him. His warm, steady breaths tickle her face as she lets them lull her back to sleep.
It’s bright outside when she wakes again.
“Morning,” comes a sleepy voice next to her. Leon is stretching lazily, a contented smile on his lips.
“Slept well, I see,” she observes.
“Impossible not to, after last night,” he teases, unable to stop his widening grin.
Ada resists the urge to roll her eyes. She’s about to retort with something possibly cutting when she realizes he’s staring at her. “What is it?”
Leon shakes his head. “Nothing, it’s just… I can’t believe you’re really here.”
That draws a chuckle out of her. “Where else would I be?”
He shrugs. “Normally you’d be long gone by now.”
“Excuse me, I paid a lot for this room and I intend to get the most out of it.”
He laughs softly. “That’s not what I meant. I guess I’m just used to waking up alone.”
The smile fades from her lips, but before she can say anything, Leon adds, “If I had known this was the only way for you to not ghost me, I would’ve stayed the night more often.”
She shoves his shoulder lightly. “If I had known you’d be so insufferable about it, I would’ve kicked you out and let you sleep on the stairs.”
“You wouldn’t be so cruel as to deprive me of the pleasure of your company, not after you’ve gone to such lengths to provide it,” he says. “Nor would you deprive yourself of this.”
His lips meet hers in a long, gentle kiss, almost like he’s savoring every second of it. Like he’s trying to make the moment last just a bit longer. Almost on reflex, she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. She’s about to lose herself in it when she feels him smile.
He breaks the kiss just long enough to whisper in her ear. “See? I know what you want, too.”
He’s right, though she would never admit it out loud. Still, the least he could do was to not act so smug about it. It’s already disconcerting enough that sometimes he looks at her like he can read her mind, like she’s nothing more than an open book. It doesn’t happen a lot, but every time it does, she feels a mix of pleasure and mortification shoot straight through her bones.
She opens her eyes only to find him staring at her again. “I swear, Kennedy, if you’re going to make this a habit-”
Leon laughs. “Sorry. It’s just…”
She raises one eyebrow playfully. “You’re awfully eloquent this morning. Wonder what I did right last night.”
He gives her another one of his familiar exasperated looks and says simply, “I was just going to say… morning looks good on you. Wish I got to see this more often.”
Ada falls silent. Her pride and desire to always have the last word scream at her to come up with something, anything, but infuriatingly, her mind draws a blank.
So she’s left to make a lame retreat, gathering up the sheets to cover herself (pointless, it’s not like there’s anything there that he hasn’t seen before) and nearly tripping over them as she gets on her feet, vaguely mumbling something about the time.
Unfortunately, that seems to have sent a different message to Leon than intended.
“Suppose I should get going, then,” he says, getting up and slowly trying to pick out his own things from the scattered clothes on the floor. “You’ve got somewhere to be, yeah?”
She looks at him, remembering the way she felt last night as they stood in front of this great majestic hotel. That impulsive, inexplicable desire to hold onto him for just a bit longer returns with a vengeance, against her better judgment. Her mind races for a plausible response-
“I’ve got enough time for breakfast,” she says finally. “Hungry? I know a place. My treat.”
Leon looks at her like she’d just grown a second head. She supposes that in a way she has, and that new head is the one calling the shots now, because finding excuses to spend more time with the man with whom she’d been engaged in a relentless cat-and-mouse game for the better part of two decades was not in the cards when she first stepped foot in this city, and yet here she is.
“What?” is all he manages to say.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Leon.”
He regards her for a long moment, seemingly weighing her words. Knowing him, he’s probably looking for a hidden meaning or some kind of catch. But then his shoulders relax, and he says, “Breakfast sounds amazing.”
They walk to a café that doubles as a pastry shop further downtown, where Ada orders a classic Eggs Benedict and Leon decides on a plain croissant. The metallic chairs scrape against the concrete as they take their outdoor seats, with a perfect view of the streets, bustling with people in this relatively touristy area.
Somehow, in all the years they’ve known each other, they’ve never had breakfast together. They’ve gotten drunk in bars before (most recently last night) and even had a few dinners together (always fancy, always her idea) but breakfast is uncharted territory for them. There’s a strange sort of intimacy that comes with sharing the first meal of the day with someone as you breathe in the morning air of a city slowly coming to life. It intimidates and excites her all at once.
“When do you have to leave again?” Leon asks between his sips of coffee. He sounds nonchalant, as he always does when posing the million variations of this same question, but she knows him enough to detect just a hint of nervousness in his voice.
It’s funny, that they’re still sitting here across from each other and he’s already mentally bracing himself to be parted from her. Something heavy weighs on her chest. She’d never stopped long enough to really think about how much their (often abrupt) separations have affected him. Because thinking is inconvenient and uncomfortable and she’d been too preoccupied with her own feelings to acknowledge the other part of the equation.
“Not anytime soon,” she says. “I’ve got time.”
If Leon seems to visibly relax at her words, she pretends to not notice.
It should’ve been a short walk back to her hotel.
Instead, they find themselves taking the long way back, admiring the scenery from the river’s bank. Before they know it, the long way just keeps getting longer, with detours being taken at every opportunity. They enter an antique shop on a whim, and spend hours admiring the relics of times gone by. They pass by fading monuments and towering buildings, fallen leaves crunching beneath their feet. Everything looks and feels old in this city, like it’s stubbornly holding onto the last vestiges of a familiar comfort.
Once upon a time, Ada would’ve scoffed at such a banal thought. She might appreciate its beauty from a purely historical and cultural standpoint, but ascribing human sentimentality to a place was pointless and foolish.
But isn’t she also trying to hold onto whatever part of Leon that she can, against all rationality? Hasn’t she jeopardized her own goals, over and over again, for a mere promise of seeing him again?
Ada Wong is a ghost. But ghosts don’t form attachments, and they certainly don’t allow themselves to feel sentiment. But Leon brings out both of those things in her, and it’s almost thrilling, how tangible everything feels when she’s with him.
The wind blows through her hair, and on impulse (because everything she does when it comes to Leon is impulsive, isn’t it?) she grabs hold of his arm, closing the distance between them.
Leon turns to look at her, but otherwise doesn’t protest. Still, she feels compelled to explain herself. “It’s cold.”
He casts a look at the rapidly setting sun. “Should we head back?”
She considers it for a moment. “No, not yet. I want to stay out a bit longer.”
He nods. “Okay.”
They round a corner to loop back the way they came. As Leon huddles closer to her, she feels relief wash over her entire body, like her muscles are finally allowed the luxury of unwinding after straining for so long. She leans into it, into his warmth.
She could get used to this. That’s what makes it so dangerous. But it feels so good, and she doesn’t want it to stop.
“I don’t think I even know how to pronounce half of these,” Leon says, turning the menu over in his hands, a skeptical air about him as he sweeps his gaze across the options.
He’s lounging on the sofa, freshly showered and smelling faintly of expensive hotel soap, and he looks so different that she can’t help but stare. She’s seen him in the field, blood and grime clinging to him like a second skin. She’s seen him beneath her, hair tousled and skin shining with sweat. But this version of him, sitting across from her, casually relaxed as he ponders over something as mundane as dinner, is new to her.
Ada decides that she doesn’t hate the sight.
“Surely there must be something you recognize on there,” she remarks casually. “Even with your limited linguistic capabilities.”
Leon puts the menu down. “It’s just dinner, it shouldn’t be a French exam.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, nothing is ever ‘just’ dinner,” she counters, leaning over to take the menu where it rests on his lap. “Luckily for you, I have taste. Allow me to introduce you to the finer things in life.”
He leans back, an amused smile on his lips. “Hey, don’t judge a man. Not all of us can afford those finer things, you know.”
She supposes that’s true. She doubts his government salary covers more than the absolute essentials. Ada recalls the way he looked at the hotel when they first arrived, the way his gaze swept across her suite as he took it in for the first time. She didn’t think much of it at the time, but now she wonders if a part of him was questioning where she got the money to pay for these luxuries, and the means through which she earned it.
She knows he wouldn’t approve. But despite it all, he stays with her. It gives her a strange sense of satisfaction, to know that she’s not the only one acting against her better judgment. Like her, he’s never been able to completely sever that invisible string, either. No matter what he does, it leads him back to her, just as it leads her to him.
“So, what have you got for me?” he asks, interrupting her train of thought. “Whatever it is, I expect my taste buds to be blown away.”
She smiles wryly at him. “For someone who isn’t a fan of luxury, you sure have high standards.”
He shrugs. “I’m just saying, what’s the point of paying so much for food unless it’s completely soul-changing and earth-shattering?”
“If you have the means to, why not treat yourself to the very best?” she shoots back.
“Price doesn’t denote quality,” he points out. “Personally, I’m more into the simpler things in life.”
“Spoken like a true penniless man,” she quips.
He laughs, reaching over to take her hand in his. She lets him. “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. One day I’ll show you, and you’ll finally see the light.”
“Keep dreaming,” she says, going back to the menu.
One day. Never has a promise excited and frightened her so much.
Briefly, she wonders how it would feel like to reach out, hold onto him, and never let go again, before banishing the thought to the farthest corners of her mind, where she locks it away.
She’s woken up in the middle of the night by movement next to her, agitated and barely restrained.
Out of pure instinct, her hand goes to the blade hidden underneath the mattress. But her fingers barely brush against the hilt before she realizes the frantic movement doesn’t come from an intruder but Leon himself.
He seems to be locked in the throes of a nightmare, limbs thrashing, breathing heavily. The sheets on his side of the bed are kicked into a tangle at his feet, and he’s mumbling barely intelligible words, but somewhere among those indistinct syllables, she thinks she can make out something that might be her name.
Carefully maneuvering around his thrashing form, she reaches over to hold one of his arms firm enough to stop it from flailing, but still gently enough not to alarm him even further, in his state. With the other hand she touches his face lightly.
“Leon,” she whispers, hoping not to startle him. “Leon, hey.”
It takes her several more tries before his eyes fly open. His breathing is ragged and labored, and for a moment he looks disoriented, like he can’t remember where he is. When his gaze focuses on her, there is a split second when he almost looks like he has no idea who she is, before his eyes soften with recognition.
“Ada,” he breathes, sitting up and running a hand over his face. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She sits up as well. Her hands feel clumsy and redundant, and her mind is spinning. Next to her, Leon is taking deep breaths, his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped. He looks just as he did when she found him in that bar the other night, weighed down and defeated.
Suddenly, she feels lost. Nothing has changed. She couldn’t help him forget, not really. All the banter, the lovemaking, they were merely temporary distractions. She’s always known that Leon struggled every now and then. Those in their profession always do, and he’s been in this for as long as she has.
But knowing about it is one thing, and seeing it with her own eyes is another entirely.
Slowly, she reaches out to rub his back in a gesture she hopes is somewhat soothing. Almost immediately, he leans into her touch, tension slowly leaving his body.
“Thank you,” he says.
She nods, watching as he eases himself back onto the bed, before following suit. She settles herself against him, one arm slung over his torso, her head buried in the crook of his shoulder. She feels him shift to plant a gentle kiss on her hair, his breath ruffling her delicate strands.
Ada closes her eyes, and allows the steady beating of his heart to lull her into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.
Morning finds them still tangled in each other. Somehow, she doesn’t mind, and judging from the way Leon hasn’t moved a muscle since waking up twenty minutes ago, neither does he.
Ada watches him closely. Leon doesn’t seem any different from the way he was the previous morning, all sleepy yawns and contented smiles. But if last night taught her anything, it’s that demons don’t go away so easily. They’re merely hibernating just under the surface, biding their time, waiting to strike again.
She won’t let them. She’s always kept him safe, hasn’t she? Kept an eye on him from afar, protected him from physical harm any way she can. But that’s not enough. If she can’t fix this, the least she can do is help make things better for him.
Impulsively, she reaches out to cup his face in her hands. A subconsciously protective gesture, perhaps. All she knows is she just wants to feel him, warm and tangible and next to her.
Leon smiles. “Now who’s staring?”
“Can’t help it,” she teases. “Morning looks good on you, too.”
She’s not entirely surprised to find that she means it. Waking up next to him as the morning sun makes his hair look almost golden is the most peaceful she’s ever felt in her life. It wouldn’t be hard to imagine that in another life, under different circumstances, she could be content to start every day like this.
He pulls her closer to him. “Still stealing my lines, I see.”
“There’s an occasional nugget of wisdom or two in them,” she replies casually, stroking down the length of his cheek with the back of her hand in a way that draws a slight shiver from him, even with the sunlight warming the length of his back from the opened curtains.
“Since you’re suddenly so keen on imitating me,” he says, getting out of bed. “Might as well go all the way.”
“As in-”
“Breakfast,” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I promised I’d show you the joys of the simpler things in life, and I’m honoring that promise now.”
“Didn’t realize you were so passionate about this,” she remarks dryly. It’s a lie. Leon has always been an all-or-nothing kind of person, so really, it’s not at all surprising that philosophy extends to his choice in food as well.
He finishes getting dressed and extends a hand to her, his gaze painfully hopeful. “What do you say, Ada?”
Something flashes through her mind. Leon, trapped in a nightmare, sweat beading on his forehead. The panicked look in his eyes when he woke, lost and terrified.
She takes it without hesitation. “I suppose I’ve got time.”
The weather is cold and wet, a dreadful combination but not unusual for this time of year, as autumn transitions into winter. They walk along the cobble pavement, strong winds whipping at their hair, and Ada is unable to suppress a shiver.
Before she can pull away, Leon reaches out to hold her hand, and squeezes it lightly in alarm. “You’re freezing.”
She wants to kick herself for underestimating the weather and leaving her gloves at the hotel. But she can’t help a small twinge of pleasure at the way he takes her hands and rubs them with his in a rather fruitless but endearing attempt to warm them up.
Since the day they met, he’s always wanted to be her knight in shining armor. She had firmly rejected all of his eager attempts at first, too proud in her own independence and bristling at the idea of being nothing but a prop for him to prove himself. She was wrong, of course. It wasn’t about him, it was about her, and his relentless need to protect her, all else be damned.
Eventually, she stopped resisting. It feels good sometimes, to know that someone cares. Not that she would ever admit it out loud. Not that she has to.
“Hey, stop,” she stops him, then shoves her hand into the pocket of his jacket. “There. That should help.”
A light smile plays on his lips, before he reaches inside the pocket to hold her hand once more. “I’ll remember the gloves next time.”
Every time they pass by a café, restaurant or bakery, she wonders if it’s the one. Every time, they walk past it, and her curiosity grows. They keep walking further into the city, where crowds of bustling tourists start to thin out, replaced by ordinary people milling about their daily business, and the imposing sights make way for ordinary houses. There’s a different feeling here. It feels more personal, almost quaint. A side to this city not glimpsed by many.
Finally, they stop at an old apartment block. Leon punches in a combination on an old keypad, and the gates unlock with a buzz.
“What is this place?” she asks as she follows him in.
“My humble abode,” he explains. “Before you showed up and whisked me off to the Four Seasons.”
She must’ve looked perplexed, because he turns to her with a half-amused, half-incredulous expression on his face. “You really didn’t wonder at all about where I’d been staying?”
She shrugs. “I assumed it was at some dingy motel,” she casts a skeptical look at the building. “And by the looks of it, my guess might not have been all that far off.”
He sighs in mock-offense. “I find your lack of faith disappointing. Come on, you of all people should know appearances can be deceiving. Give it a chance.”
Ada makes a show of regarding the building thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose it’s not the Four Seasons, but it’ll do.”
As expected, the apartment’s not so impressive on the inside, either.
It’s different from his apartment back in D.C., though they’re about equally unremarkable. His D.C. apartment was a sad, empty bachelor’s pad, but it was clinical, sterile in an almost impersonal way. This humble abode as he put it seems to have a personality of its own, old floorboards and rusty door hinges creaking loudly with every step, announcing her presence everywhere she goes. It’s uncomfortable, the way the place almost seems to constantly force her out of her comfort zone.
Leon is rummaging around in the kitchen (got these the day before yesterday, before I ran into you, he says as he pulls an egg carton out of the fridge with the air of a treasure hunter who’s struck gold) as she looks on, doing her best to smooth her face into a neutral expression.
“The higher-ups thought this would be a less conspicuous arrangement than staying at a hotel,” he explains, seemingly able to read the unspoken question in her eyes. He’s doing that thing where he reads her like an open book again, but for once, she’s grateful for it, grateful that she doesn’t have to spell it all out in mortifying detail.
(She’s never been good with words, after all.)
To his credit, Leon can whip up a decent breakfast, even with the limited stock in his fridge. Eggs and bacon, and a stack of pancakes for good measure. Basic but classic, and so earnest in its simplicity that it brings a smile to her lips.
She looks up to find him gazing at her expectantly. “Well?”
Ada clears her throat before speaking, her voice careful and deliberate. “It’s passable.”
Unfazed, Leon’s face brightens. “High praise, coming from you.”
The truth is, sitting across a small wooden dining table from him and eating homemade breakfast stirs a vaguely frightening feeling in her stomach, one she’d been steadfastly ignoring for as long as she can remember. Her hotel suite had the advantage of being impersonal. It allowed her a certain degree of detachment, kept her mind from wandering to things she’d rather not think about.
But right in the middle of this apartment, with its well-worn furniture and domestic charm, such a task is nigh-impossible.
She’s out on the balcony, inhaling the cold November air. Behind her, Leon flits about, dumping the dishes into the kitchen sink, opening the window curtains, rearranging the throw pillows on the couch, and it’s uncanny, the way it all plays out like a scene plucked from the deepest corners of her mind, a fantasy of a life they could’ve had, had things turned out differently. A mirage forever dangling just out of reach.
It’s all too much, and for a split second, she feels that all too familiar temptation to just run and leave it all behind, all the messy, complicated feelings that she cannot untangle. She can go back to being free and unburdened, the way she always was.
She tries to push it away. She doesn’t want to leave him. She’s grown too used to his company now that leaving him would feel like ripping out a part of herself. Just like that, she has already forgotten all of her lessons. Her roots are slowly tangling with his into a knot as stubborn and unbreakable as the invisible string tethering them together.
Strong arms envelop her, and she feels Leon’s warm breath in the crook of her neck as he holds her tight. “What are you thinking about?” he asks between trailing kisses up her neck and behind her ear. She tries not to shiver.
“Nothing,” she answers. “Nothing at all.”
Something about this place seems to bring up uncomfortable truths she’d been trying to ignore. Something she’d only glimpsed through the years, but is now forced to confront.
Domesticity suits him.
Ada is worried that it’s starting to suit her, too.
A part of her wonders if they’re merely pretending, holding onto something they both know will not last. She wonders if it’s selfish of her to know this and still keep him to herself. Because if there’s one thing she knows, is that Leon deserves this. He deserves someone who would be proud to walk through life alongside him and not be afraid to take his hand. Someone he can love in broad daylight, openly and without any regret.
He deserves stability. Normalcy. All she has given him since the day they meet is stolen moments between years of radio silence, and the kind of limbo that coexists with the threat of brutal reality looming over it.
She knows he wants her, she just doesn’t know if he should, and that uncertainty is just too much to bear.
“What are we doing, Leon?” she asks over breakfast. It’s an otherwise beautiful morning, sunlight streaming in through the window behind her.
Leon looks up from his coffee. “What?”
“This,” she gestures between them. “What are we really doing here?”
He has the gall to look bemused. “Having breakfast?”
“You know what I mean,” she insists, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “This… peaceful, domestic life. It’s never been us. How much longer are we going to pretend it is?”
“What’s gotten into you today?” he asks, and he sounds so calm that it agitates her even more.
“How long do you see this lasting, really? Be honest,” she stands up, bracing her hands against the wooden table. Praying for it to anchor her. “We’re living in a fantasy, and it’s not going to last. We’re running away from reality, Leon. This… all of this was a mistake.”
“Ada-” he begins, but before he can get another word in, his phone vibrates on the kitchen counter.
“Your reality is calling,” she says, turning on her heel and leaving him there.
Her hands are gripping the balcony railing so hard her knuckles have turned white. She’s taking deep breaths, trying to keep herself from shaking.
She hates showing weakness in front of him. She’s always prided herself on her ability to maintain a perfect picture of composure at all times. But being around him makes her forget all that she’s been taught. This isn’t the first time, and likely won’t be the last.
But it was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? He would’ve eventually come to that realization himself, anyway. She’s just saving him the time and trouble.
She let herself get lost in him for too long. What was she thinking? She knew this was going to happen. Leon Kennedy has always been a drug, one she cannot get enough of. Even in small doses, he tastes like pure bliss and ecstasy, the sort she’d allow herself to indulge in every now and then, the sort she can manage and compartmentalize into a neat little labeled box, separate from all the other neat little labeled boxes that make up her life.
It’s why she never let herself come too close or linger too long. It’s why she’d always danced around him, close enough to feel him, but never stayed long enough to get used to him.
But these past few days, the lines have blurred into each other, and she’d been aware of it every step of the way, but had happily let them, because it felt good to be with him, and damn it, even a ghost like Ada Wong isn’t immune to human bliss.
The door slides open behind her. She can feel him hover behind her, so close that she can almost feel his warmth. But he isn’t touching her. He’s allowing her the space that she needs, and she is both thankful for it and disappointed by the lack of contact.
(How had she let it get to the point where she would feel his absence like a physical ache in her body?)
“I won’t ask you to stay,” he says. “If you have to go, I understand.”
She bites her lip and stays silent.
“I’ve never pretended with you,” he continues. “This is real to me, always has been. I’m not running away from reality because this is my reality.”
She turns around. He’s standing in front of her, his hands balled into fists at his side, his expression grave but earnest. Somehow, the sight eases her.
“I don’t think it’s that easy,” she says. “You have your responsibilities, your duty-”
“Duty can wait,” he asserts.
“For how long?”
“For as long as it takes,” his answer is quick, resolute. “I’m not running away from it, Ada. I’ll deal with it in due time. Not right now, but I will.”
“Okay,” is all she manages in response.
“Now, I’m just going to ask you one thing,” he says, taking a step forward but still not touching her. “What do you want, Ada?”
Her breath hitches in her throat. She had asked him that same question as they hovered outside the Four Seasons, on the precipice of something they never had an inkling would change them forever. He didn’t answer then, but his actions told her all she needed to know.
So she does the one thing she knows how to do when words are failing her. She pulls him to her by his worn T-shirt, and kisses him with all her being.
She doesn’t know what the future holds. But she knows that with him by her side, they can take whatever comes at them.
It’s a rare sunny day, one Ada is determined to enjoy to the fullest.
Leon is sitting in bed, leaning against the headboard, his phone in hand. He’s been locked in a rather intense standoff with the D.S.O for the last few days for more vacation days and fewer missions. It’s a slow and arduous process, but it looks like he might come out of it victorious after all.
Her own phone barely beeps twice before she silences it. She’s been taking fewer jobs too, slowly distancing herself as she looks for a way out.
One day they’ll be free. Truly free. Until that day, they have each other.
He disconnects the call, swearing under his breath, and she hides an amused smile.
“Can you zip me up?” she asks, moving to stand in front of the bed with her back to him.
She hears the rustling of bed sheets as he shifts, and the sound of her dress zipper being pulled up. It stops halfway through as Leon brushes a kiss between her shoulder blades, then another one on her neck.
“Leon,” she warns, though her voice comes out far too soft for it to be taken seriously. “This isn’t helping.”
“Come back to bed,” he whispers against her skin, his breath hot in her ear, his hands trailing down the curves of her body.
“The weather’s far too nice to stay in,” she reasons. It sounds strange even to her own ears. Ada Wong, willingly going out to enjoy the weather. Not too long ago, it would’ve sounded like a bad joke, and yet here she is.
“Yeah, but nice weather’s got nothing on this,” he says, slowly unzipping her dress as his fingers brush against her skin teasingly.
“Oh?” she turns around, cupping his face in her hands. “What have you got to offer, then?”
She barely finishes her sentence before he pulls her onto the bed. This time, she’s unable to suppress her laughter.
Leon’s phone vibrates loudly on the nightstand. Ada gets a glimpse of the caller ID just before he taps reject call. Hunnigan.
“Sounds like duty is calling,” she says. They’re in bed, his arm wrapped around her middle, their legs tangled together. It’s a perfect, lazy afternoon, the sort she’s never experienced before. Ada doesn’t believe in the concept of normalcy, but if it did exist, she would imagine it probably looks something like this.
The most surprising part is, she doesn’t mind it at all.
“Duty can wait,” Leon replies.
That draws a smile out of her. No one could ever question Leon’s devotion to his duty. Some would even say it was his only reason for living.
They’re wrong, of course. Lying in bed next to him as he brushes feather-light kisses on every inch of her exposed skin, Ada relishes in the fact that she’s holding a secret part of him in her hands, bearing witness to the side of him that the rest of the world will never get to see.
His phone vibrates again, seemingly more persistently this time, and Leon groans. “I told them to only call me when there’s an emergency. There can’t be that many emergencies in the span of twenty-four hours.”
“Here, let me,” she says, taking the phone from his hand. With one swift move, she removes the batteries and tosses both it and the phone away. They land somewhere on the carpeted floor with a thud. “Now you can focus your full attention on what matters.”
He casts his gaze in the direction she threw his phone in. “I suppose Hunnigan can come up with a convincing enough excuse.”
She trails her fingers along his jaw. “Honestly, what would you do without me?”
Running his hand through her hair, he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Hopefully I won’t ever have to find out.”
Sunlight slants through the window, warm on their skin. His touch is gentle and reverent, his fingers diligently tracing every curve of her body. His breath is hot on her skin as he slowly explores every inch of her, nipping at her neck, moving down her breasts before finally, blessedly diving between her thighs.
She bites back a moan, her hands grabbing fistfuls of sheets as her back arches from the pleasure shooting through her body. He loves her slowly and reverently, the way one worships at the feet of a goddess. He loves her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters, like she’s the only lover he’s ever taken to his bed.
He loves her in the way that makes her slowly forget, until everything that remains is him and her and their intertwined bodies, until she no longer desires another’s touch if it isn’t his.
He loves her like they’ve got all the time in the world, secure and confident in the knowledge that there will always be a next time.
Leon’s sleepy smile is the first thing that greets her.
“Breakfast?”
She smiles. “I’m sure I can make time for it.”
It’s not perfect. Nothing ever is. They still get pulled back into their old lives every now and then. Making a clean break is hardly a one-and-done thing. But this time, there is a promise of a future, lurking just around the corner, tangible and within reach.
Nothing is ever perfect, but she likes to think what they have comes pretty damn close.
It feels like building a life backwards. But sometimes, what you get is what you get.
The important thing is, they’ll have many more mornings and breakfasts to look forward to.
fin.