Chapter Text
Leon was woken by a phone call from Claire. Although, it wasn't actually 'waking' when the activity he'd been engaging in bore only a passing resemblance to sleep. He'd been in bed, his eyes had been closed and he'd been dreaming
(oh yes, he had been dreaming. Dreams of blood and fire and a hand slipping from his)
But it wasn't sleep.
Claire sounded as tired as he felt and there was a forced cheerfulness to her words which just made him more exhausted. They didn't reminisce, or talk about that day, or do anything which involved thinking about Raccoon City, and the things they'd both seen. They pretended - for a short while - that they were regular friends, who talked about regular things. Never mind the phone call was taking place at 5 am. They were just regular people, with a regular friendship. Claire talked about TerraSave and her brother. She talked about her brother's sort-of-but-not-quite girlfriend ('Everyone can see it. Except them.') She asked about Sherry, and talked about Steve. She only talked about Steve at this time of the year. She talked a lot about her bike, none of which Leon understood, and about Queen, which he did. He was always more comfortable listening, at least on this day. She ended it with what she always said,
"Next year we should try meeting up."
He replied with the same reply every year,
"Yeah, we should."
They wouldn't. That didn't matter.
Leon went to work. He spoke to Sherry. She was doing well, or that's what she told him. She was 18 and had lived through several lifetimes of trauma. He finished up his reports on Spain. All of them were notable for their absence of a woman in red.
He went home. Keys got dumped by the door, and his shoes were kicked off before he'd even crossed the threshold into his apartment. Leon headed straight to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle he'd left there for this moment.
He didn't bother with a glass, and drank straight from it as he made his way to the couch. He had no other plans for the night.
An hour later - maybe more, maybe less, he didn't care - Leon heard the door to his apartment open. The was a click of high heeled shoes against the floor, gaining volume as the intruder grew closer.
"Sorry," he said, "I didn't get you a card."
"Oh?" The figure was behind him, and a few more steps brought Ada Wong into view, "What's the occasion?"
"'Congratulations On The Anniversary Of Your Death'. I checked around, no one makes them."
"That's a shame. I can think of a few people I'd give one to."
The couch Leon was sitting on faced the window, offering a fantastic view of the city during daylight. It could easily sit two people, three if they didn't mind sitting close together. It had come with the apartment, as had most of the furniture. He hadn't got around to getting rid of it.
Ada sat on the arm rest, and rested her feet on the spare seat.
"Come on in," Leon said. "Make yourself comfortable."
Ada returned his glare with a smile, "Thank you. I shall."
Leon's response was to pass her the bottle. Ada accepted and gave the clear liquid a critical glare before taking a swig. She spluttered, face wrinkling in horror and disgust.
"God fucking dammit, Rookie. Is this paint thinner?"
"You break into my apartment, you don't get to complain about my shitty booze. Hand it back."
"That's fair enough. And I'm not done." She took another drink, and shuddered. "That is horrifying."
"No complaining."
"That was an observation, not a complaint." She haded the bottle back.
"That's the first time I've seen you lose your cool over anything." Leon said. His apartment was dark, the only light came from the fading daylight outside.
"I'm just good at hiding it."
That was more honesty than he'd expected from Ada Wong. If he could trust she'd ever be honest with him. What could he even believe when it came from a woman who'd lied from the second they'd met? She wasn't looking at him. Out of the window, above him, her hands. Even in the near dark she wouldn't meet his eyes.
(but he was probably doing just a bad a job of pretending he wasn't trying to avoid looking at her)
"Part of my work is reading people, and learning how they'll act before they act. Politicians. Scientists. Naive, rookie cops. I don't like things not working out as they should. And I don't like complications." She held out her hand, and Leon passed the bottle back.
"Why are you here, Ada?" He'd asked her that back in Spain, and hadn't got an answer. Not until she pointed a gun at his head. He wondered if this night would end the same way.
"Can't a woman visit an old friend in peace, without an interrogation?"
"'Friend', right. Last time we met you stole a dangerous parasite at gunpoint and then left me on an island rigged to explode. What the hell do you call your enemies?"
"You know, now you mention it, that's not something I've ever had to think about before." She passed the bottle back to Leon and continued, "Besides, I left you a jet ski and three minutes. I had no doubt you'd make the best of them."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, I guess."
"And what's a little armed robbery between friends, anyway?"
"A felony?" Leon suggested, as he passed the bottle back to Ada. "A really good reason to stop speaking to you?"
Ada laughed. "A yes, to both of those." She looked critically at the decreased level of liquid in the bottle, and passed it back to Leon. "And yet here we are," she said.
"Yup. Here we are."
In one movement, Ada shifted her feet off the cushion, and scooted into it herself. Her movements were less graceful than Leon was used to seeing. After another moment, she leant against him, resting her head on his shoulder.
Leon waited, wondering if his was a lead in to yet another time Ada would stab him in the metaphorical back. Instead, she said,
"If you're not going to drink that, handsome, then I will."
Leon passed the bottle back, and shifted his arm from under Ada, putting it around her and pulling her close.
A happy couple, watching the city and sharing a drink. Another lie, but he'd let himself pretend for just a little longer.