Chapter Text
The soft glow of the Christmas lights strung across the apartment bathed the room in a warm, golden hue. Ashley sat on the couch, her legs tucked under her, cradling a warm mug of cocoa in her hands. The sweet aroma of cinnamon and chocolate filled the air, but it brought no comfort. She silently watched Leon move about the bedroom, methodically packing his gear. The rhythmic sound of zippers and the occasional clink of metal against metal punctuated the stillness, a sharp contrast to the festive decorations she had carefully put up just days ago.
Her chest tightened as the reality settled in: Leon was leaving.
Her chest felt heavy, a tight ache that wouldn’t subside no matter how much she tried to focus on something—anything—else. She had been so excited for this Christmas, their first one together. She had spent the past week meticulously planning, poring over recipes for a holiday dinner, and hunting for the perfect gifts. Her heart had been so full, brimming with anticipation for a moment of peace, of normalcy, of love.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
A week ago, she’d been filled with excitement, planning their first Christmas together. She had envisioned cozy evenings by the fire, exchanging gifts under the soft glow of twinkling lights, and stealing kisses beneath the mistletoe. She’d even bought matching stockings for them—his embroidered with a simple “L,” hers with a delicate “A.” They hung now, side by side, mocking her with their untouched cheerfulness.
But all of that had come crashing down when Leon told her about the mission.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he had promised, his voice steady but laced with regret.
Ashley wanted to believe him, but she couldn’t ignore the tightness in her chest. She knew how dangerous his work was. She had seen the scars, felt the weight of his pain even when he tried to hide it. She had watched him fight for his life—and for hers—countless times. The memory of him injured, bloodied, but still pushing forward to save her, haunted her. And now, the thought of him leaving again, walking headfirst into danger, made her heart ache.
She didn’t want to disturb him, but she couldn’t help herself. Quietly, she placed the mug on the coffee table and padded toward the bedroom. There, leaning against the doorframe, she watched him move with the precision and efficiency that came so naturally to him.
His movements were quick but deliberate—folding clothes, checking equipment, sliding a combat knife into its sheath.
“Do you have everything?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Leon looked up, his blue eyes meeting hers. For a moment, his expression softened, a flicker of guilt flashing across his face. “Yeah. Almost done,” he replied, his tone calm, steady. “It’s just a short mission, Ash.I'll be back soon.”
Short mission. That’s what he always said. But Ashley knew better. Missions were rarely short, and they were never simple. She clenched her hands by her sides to stop them from trembling, her nails pressing against her palms.
“I know,” Ashley replied, her voice trembling slightly. She dropped her gaze to her lap, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sweater. “It’s just… it’s our first Christmas, Leon. I was really looking forward to it.”
Leon stopped what he was doing, placing the duffel bag on the bed. He crossed the room to her, his boots thudding softly against the carpet. Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs brushing against the soft fabric of her sweater.
“Ashley,” he began, his voice low and reassuring, “I know you’re worried. And I get it. But I’ve done this before. A lot. You know that.”
“That’s exactly why I’m scared,” she whispered, finally meeting his eyes. “You’ve done this so many times, and every time… every time you come back with more scars. And I know you try to hide it, but I see it, Leon. I see how much it takes out of you.”
Her voice cracked, and she looked away, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to spill. “I just… I can’t help but worry. Every time you leave, I think about what could happen. I think about—” Her voice caught, and she looked away, blinking back tears.
Leon’s expression softened for a moment, and the guilt in his eyes was replaced by something gentler—something that almost looked like hope. His hand lingered against her cheek as if he could convey all the words he didn’t know how to say with just that touch. The silence between them stretched, filled with unspoken fears and an unshakable connection.
“Ashley,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “You’ve always been stronger than you think. I see it every day—in how you keep going, even when things aren’t easy. That strength is what keeps me grounded. It’s what keeps me coming back.”
Ashley blinked, her throat tightening. “I’m not as strong as you think I am,” she whispered.
Leon shook his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’ve already been through so much, and you’re still here—still standing. That’s more strength than most people ever find.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, she reached up, her fingers lightly grazing the back of his hand where it rested against her cheek. The moment was fragile, like a glass ornament on a Christmas tree, beautiful but delicate, and she feared it might shatter.
“I don’t feel strong,” she admitted after a moment, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not when it comes to you. You’re the one thing I can’t bear to lose.”
Leon’s eyes softened, his resolve tempered by the vulnerability in her voice. He leaned forward, pressing his lips gently to her forehead, letting the moment linger as if he could anchor her fears with his presence alone.
“You won’t lose me,” he said, his tone resolute. “Not now, not ever.”
The words hung between them, a promise weighed down by the unspoken reality of the risks he faced. He stepped back reluctantly, his hand slipping from her face as he turned toward his bag.
The sound of the zipper closing seemed louder than it should have been, cutting through the quiet like a finality Ashley wasn’t ready to face. Leon hefted the bag onto his shoulder, the familiar sight of him in his gear striking a chord of both pride and dread within her. He paused by her side, his presence steady, his eyes meeting hers one last time before he pulled her into a firm embrace.
Ashley clung to him, her arms tightening around his waist as if she could somehow keep him from leaving if she just held on hard enough. She buried her face in his chest, his warmth and the faint scent of his cologne grounding her in the moment.
Her voice was muffled against him, laced with frustration and sorrow. “I hate this,” she admitted, her fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket. “I hate that I can’t do anything to stop it.”
Leon’s arms tightened around her, his chin resting gently atop her head. “I hate it too,” he said softly, his words barely more than a whisper. “But I promise, as soon as this is over, we’ll have the Christmas we deserve. Just you and me.”
Ashley pulled back slightly to look up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “You’d better keep that promise,” she said, her voice wavering but laced with a faint edge of determination.
He smiled—a small, fleeting expression that carried both reassurance and regret. Without another word, he leaned down and kissed her, a slow, lingering kiss that conveyed everything words couldn’t. It was warm and tender, filled with love, and spoke of both longing and unspoken promises.
When they finally parted, Leon rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. “See you soon,” he said, his voice steady but carrying the weight of the unspoken risks they both knew too well.
Ashley nodded, her hands still clutching his jacket as if reluctant to let go. But she forced herself to step back, watching as he turned and walked toward the door. The faint click of the door shutting behind him echoed through the apartment, leaving her in a silence only broken by the hum of the Christmas lights.
Ashley stood there for a moment, staring at the door as if willing him to return. Eventually, she sank onto the couch, her eyes drifting to the tree glowing softly in the corner. The untouched plate of cookies sat on the coffee table, mocking her with their festive cheer.
Her first Christmas with Leon wouldn’t be the one she had envisioned. But she held on to his promise, clutching it tightly in her heart. He’d come back. He always did.
And when he did, no matter how long it took, they would have their Christmas—together.
To be continued