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Ada Wong had been an excellent girlfriend. She had been understanding and sympathetic, always ready to listen to her partner’s worries over Umbrella and the direction the research at the Arklay lab was taking. John had been intelligent, idealistic and naive and for all these qualities she’d liked him, genuinely liked him.
And she’d left him to die.
She tried to rationalise it away - no one could’ve seen the outbreak coming, or how badly Umbrella would deal with it.
(or, she wondered, had that been their plan all along?)
She hadn’t even been there -
but if I had -
There was no point in getting lost in the past. John Clemens was dead.
Ada drifted further. She could feel Leon’s arms around her, the pain in her side and back as she slammed into the concrete floor.
“I didn’t expect that from a scientist” she said, brushing the dust from her tan coloured coat. Her remark went without a response, and she looked down, and saw the crimson stain spreading across the dark blue of Leon’s uniform.
There was nothing she could’ve done to save him -
(expect not lie to him, not get him involved, not making him think he was risking his life for a cause worth dying for -)
I had to leave. There’s nothing I could do -
(except stay with him, try to stop the bleeding, try to get them both the hell out of the city - forget about the G-virus and her job -)
For what? Some rookie cop I’ve known all of five minutes?
She’d run. Gone after Annette and left him - Dead? Dying? What did it matter. Her job mattered -
No. That’s not how it went.
Her thoughts pushed back against the dreams. The bullet had gone through Leon’s shoulder, not his chest. She’d bandaged it as well as she could, given the circumstances. He’d been alive when she’d left him -
(alone, in the city of the living dead, stalked by an immortal monster -)
- she’d made sure of it.
‘He’d be in far better condition if he’d never met you.’
Her voice of (reason? conscience?) spoke to her with John’s voice. He slurred the words out from between rotted lips as he reached out to her. Ada stepped backwards, trying to avoid the touch she’d once welcomed, and stumbled. Falling, her hands reached for the railing, feeling it break under her weight -
Ada opened her eyes, and remembered. She was in a garbage disposal and there was a jagged piece of metal sticking out of her leg. There was probably an observation to be made about the poetic justice of her dying with only the trash and her regrets for company but she was too tired and in too much pain to think of one beyond ‘figures’.
She just wanted to sleep.
She’s amazed Leon found her. She thinks - maybe - had the situation been reversed she would’ve left him. Despite his injuries he still wants to help. She wants to scream at him to stop being an idiot. That he should’ve listened to the first thing she told him
“Stop asking questions and get the hell out of here”
He’s so -
Useful
- stubborn.
“You don’t understand -”
I’m not who you think I am
The words burn her lips and throat, desperate to be said, but she swallows them back. Leon is right there, and he wants to help. He’s -
a naive idiot
- Someone she can count on.
“The situation is worse than I thought” she says, falling back into the role of Agent Ada Wong.
What harm can one more regret do her?