Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hold this!” Leon barks, under-arm tossing her the goat’s head and swinging back around to shoot before making sure she’s caught it. 

Ashley lurches toward him, almost stumbling into his back as she catches the golden figurehead with a yelp. 

Her hands are so sweaty she almost drops the smooth metal object. Ashley wraps her arms around it and backs toward the door so Leon has space to dart away from a swinging mace. The spikes whistle through the air, narrowly missing his chest. Leon takes two running steps and jump-kicks the cultist back down the hallway. He draws his gun, planting both feet and firing two shots to the head. 

Ashley can’t help but blink and flinch as sparks fly out of the muzzle. How do people get used to this? 

Maybe when this is over, I will be too. 

“Come on,” Leon growls, turning around and grabbing her arm with his free hand, keeping his gun at the ready. 

Ashley clutches the goat’s head and scrambles after him, risking a glance over her shoulder at the bodies littering the hallway. Many more lay scattered and dismembered inside the room they came from. 

“You okay?” Leon pants, checking her over briefly before his eyes snap ahead again. 

“Uh-huh,” Ashley huffs. Her head still throbs from whatever that man in the red robes waving a glowing staff was doing. The plaga in her chest has settled, but she can still feel it resting against her spine. If she looks too closely at the thin black veins pulsing out from under her sleeves, she might be sick. The blood and grime almost obscure the black veins crawling down Leon’s arms, too. “You?” 

“Peachy,” he grits out, and she can’t exactly blame him for the canned response. Some of that blood is his. 

Now isn't the time to take stock and risk the adrenaline fading. But it’s got to be the time eventually... He can’t hide the flicker of exhaustion in his eyes at the end of each fight, or how his lips pull tight with pain. 

They emerge through the doorway and back onto the balcony that wraps around the chandelier. Ashley flinches instinctively when she hears the rattle of chains and the murmurings of more cultists. Leon releases her arm in an instant, shoving her backwards with his shoulder and body-blocking her. He raises his pistol and reaches for the shotgun holstered to his back. And how many times has Ashley considered grabbing it and using it herself to help push back the hoard... 

The next wave rushes into the hall and clambers up the steps toward them, two in the front with spiked shields leading the way, a handful filling the middle, and two more with crossbows and flaming arrows taking up the rear. 

“Run around the other side!” Leon orders, waving toward the stairs on the opposite side of the hall, joined by the balcony that runs around the back. “Put that thing down and hide!” He paws at his belt where she knows he hangs the grenades he scavenges, but there are none left, used up on the black dogs prowling the garden maze just outside the hall. 

“O-okay!” She would rather stay close, but the cultists with crossbows are likely to hit her while aiming for Leon. Ashley has seen Leon take a hit or two that she knew he could dodge, just to keep it from reaching her. 

She swallows her protests and pivots as his shotgun goes off, running to the back wall and following the balcony around it. At least up there, nobody can sneak up on him from behind. Ashley turns the last corner and runs for the stairs, glancing past the chandelier at the hoard rushing into the bullets. The empty click of Leon’s shotgun is just as terrifying as the last couple of times. Even over the rumble of battle, she can hear him growl in frustration. He shoves the intact shield backwards with his boot, buying time to swap back to his pistol.  

Taking the opportunity, the archers aim their bows and fire. 

“Watch out!” Ashley shrieks, but there’s not much Leon can do about the flaming arrows sailing toward him. 

One strikes high on his thigh, and the other buries into his vest near his heart. Ashley almost trips down the stairs in horror, but it’s not deep enough to kill him. Leon quickly pats out the embers before they can catch, the brief flickers of fire lighting up his eyes with panic. He recovers quickly, firing off a quick burst of shots to kill the archers before they can shoot him again. 

Ashley grabs the railing to catch herself, forcing herself to look where she’s going instead. She jumps the last step and runs across the carpet toward the stone statue where the lion’s is head already mounted in place. She hoists up the goat’s head and slides it onto the slots. Now, only the snake remains. Who builds a castle with locks like this, anyway? Though she will admit that the statue makes for imposing decor. If only there were more time to admire the architecture and design of this ancient castle. If only it weren’t full of maniacs. 

“Tenemos que servir...” 

Ashley whips around and comes face-to-face with a robed cultist who has split from the pack and is coming towards her with arms outstretched. She can’t help her shriek, and it instantly grabs Leon’s attention. His head shoots up and his eyes fix on her with fiery urgency. 

She should be able to take on one man, evade danger at least until Leon isn't in danger himself. The plaga tightens around her spine, weaving its tendrils around her ribs to hug from the inside, churning nausea in her stomach and making her feel weak. Leon told her to run, to hide, and she can’t even do that. 

Ashley forces herself to stumble backwards, narrowly missing a clumsy grab from the cultist. She clenches her muscles, starting to obey the command to run that Leon hasn’t yet repeated.  

He doesn’t. He’s coming, thrusting the shield in front of him out of his way and side-stepping it. Leon leaps onto the railing and slides past the cultists, raising his gun. Ashley throws herself sideways and ducks to give him maximum room for error, but his aim is as good as always, popping the cultist once, twice, three times until his head explodes. 

Ashley peeks up at the body swaying above her, vibrating with life belonging to something other than itself. 

“On me!” Leon yells, gracefully sliding off the railing and pivoting onto one knee to fire up at the steps into the cultists' legs. That sends them tumbling down to the ground in front of him, giving him a moment to pick off a couple before they regroup. 

Ashley doesn’t need to be told twice, scrambling away from the toppling corpse and running up to Leon, taking cover behind him as he stands back up. His stance is firm, but even from behind she can see his gritted teeth. 

The remaining cultists pick themselves up from the heap and gather their weapons. “Gimme a break,” Leon grumbles, flicking the empty cartridge out of his gun and slamming another into the grip. His fingers almost miss, and Ashley almost doesn’t notice. 

It’s gotta end soon. He can’t keep up like this forever. I can’t stand here and do nothing forever! 

Ashley pivots toward the next flight of steps that lead to the first floor, glancing at the purple flame outside the door where the Merchant’s shop is set up. She takes a couple of steps down, grabbing the railing for balance while she awaits another order. Leon backs toward her, shooting at what remains of the hoard. 

The cultist with the shield runs to the front of the group. Ashley scampers to the other side of the steps to give Leon room to back out of the way of the spikes thrust at him. 

One with a scythe splits off and heads for Ashley. She tightens her body and retreats down another couple of steps, wondering if she can slip by and get him to chase her, keep him in front of Leon instead of leading him behind. Could she trip him, send him falling down the steps and steal his scythe, maybe keep him busy until Leon could spare to step in? 

The shield-wielding cultist turns sideways and swings his mace. Leon has just enough time to grab the chain and yank the handle from the man’s hand. He kicks the legs from under him and spins, shooting and killing the cultist advancing on Ashley. 

Leon whips his arm around and throws the mace. The spiked ball explodes the shield cultist’s head clean off, the body collapsing. The shield falls from dead fingers and slides to the bottom of the steps. The last cultist runs at him. Leon shoots him in the head, killing him with a single shot. 

The shot echoes in the silence of the hall. Leon’s muscles loosen and he lowers his gun, stumbling over the body underfoot and slumping backwards into the staircase railing to catch his breath. He looks on the verge of collapse, his hand lowering to brace the arrow still sticking out of his leg, but he has eyes only for her. “Ashley --” 

The body by his feet wrenches upward, a monstrous bug head exploding out of the headless neck and knocking Leon’s legs from under him — there's no room to maneuver. Leon tries to lunge forward so he doesn’t fall down the stairs, but the monster whacks into his shoulder and smashes him into the wall of the staircase. His head cracks off the stone and he drops bonelessly. The gun falls from his hand as he tumbles to the first floor, the arrow shaft protruding from his leg snapping along the way. The gun clatters down after him and slides out of reach of his sprawled body. 

“Leon!” The warning is much too late. The agent is already motionless at the bottom of the staircase, his back to her. 

The monster’s body pulses on top of its stolen corpse, snapping it’s four-jawed mouth and clicking its legs as it chooses which prey to start with — at this stage of transformation, it won’t kidnap her in favor of killing Leon. 

No, it will devour both of them if she doesn’t do something. 

The creature shuts its mouth, the jaws and throat starting to swell as it prepares an attack. Acid! She almost forgets to move, turning and scampering down the steps two at a time just in time to avoid a jet of hot, black, foul-smelling acid that splatters where she was just standing. 

Oh god oh god! Ashley almost trips over herself, running to Leon’s body and falling beside him, shaking his shoulders. “Leon!” 

There is no reply. The plaga creature wobbles down the steps on its puppeted corpse. Ashley clutches Leon’s shoulder protectively, looking around for something, anything she can use. The Merchant’s door is too far away to drag Leon’s body to, not without risking another dose of acid that would surely finish them off. 

The creature is already charging up for another squirt. Ashley grabs Leon’s vest straps, determined to at least try – 

Ashley spots it, the abandoned shield. She throws herself over Leon’s legs and grabs it, raising it and tucking in close to protect them both. The acid strikes the shield and throws her against him, droplets splattering on her boots and Leon’s combat pants. The smell of burning wood settles in her throat. 

“Oh god, Leon!” Ashley keeps the shield raised, but it won't survive another forceful, corrosive burst of that stuff. She hunts at Leon’s belt, pushing him onto his stomach to search around for something, hoping he’s forgotten about a spare grenade, or some shotgun shells tucked in the wrong pocket (never mind she doesn’t know how to load the shotgun). 

They’ve come so far, too far to die here. Leon has protected her from too much for her to fail him when he needs her. 

There’s a shimmer of blue near his hip. Ashley tips him onto the other side and rips the flash grenade off his belt. One of these, and the plaga creatures melt instantly. “Take this!” Ashley throws it over the shield at the creature, ducking back behind the shield and shutting her eyes to prepare for the flash. 

It doesn’t come. Instead, the cannister clatters on the steps and rolls down a couple before coming to rest, the plaga creature’s thumping footsteps and hungry clicking growing ever closer. Its shadow looms over the shield. 

I didn’t pull the pin. Ashley pats Leon’s belt for another flash grenade, but there are none left. 

Come on, Ash! Her brain is reeling at an incredible pace, scouring the area for something else she could use. That gaping mouth could snap down on her head at any moment. 

There it is, the black casing of Leon’s gun shimmering on the floor a few feet away. Ashley stands up and grips the shield by the sides, putting her whole body into hurling it at the monster’s stolen legs. “Back off!”  

It staggers, struggling to balance its top-heavy body, buying her enough time to jump over Leon and fall to her knees beside the gun. 

It’s easy, right? Just point and shoot? Ashley kneels for balance and braces her wrist with the other like she’s seen Leon do. She aims at the flash grenade and pulls the trigger. 

The recoil slams into her arm, pulling it upwards. The bullet pings off the stone step. “Come on!” She cries, firing again at that stupid blue cannister just a few feet away. 

The monster click-clacks its jaws and opens its mouth toward her, twisting menacingly. Ashley grits her teeth and tries to compensate for the recoil. She aims too low, but the shot drags her arm back up, and the next one explodes the cannister. Ashley shuts her eyes a moment too late, reaching up to cover her face as the light instantly blinds her. The creatures screams and withers into a pile of goop. 

The hall goes quiet. Ashley pants and cracks open her eyes, wincing as white dots dance across her vision. She doesn’t wait for them to clear, scrambling back over to Leon.  

“Leon...?” She blinks furiously and rolls him onto his back, brushing some hair from his face. “Leon, please...” 

The last speckles of retinal burns clear as she stares intently at his face. Ashley feeds her hand under his jaw. A strong, racing pulse pounds against her fingers. Blood soaks through the hair on the side of his head, sticking it to his ear. That would do it... Black lines claw faintly at his eyes. It makes him look especially worn-down and exhausted. His skin is too hot, but she’s radiating heat too. 

More footsteps echo from the floor above. Ashley stifles her noise of fear and shoves Leon’s gun back into the holster on his thigh. Then, she grabs him under the armpits.  

“Oh my god,” Ashley grunts as her arms strain to pull him. She isn’t sure what she expected. He’s a grown man, Ash. Not that she’s ever picked up one of those before... Ashley puts her back into it, the shotgun stock whacking her in the chin. Faster, faster! The footsteps have reached the staircase. Any second now, the cultists will appear around the corner and spot them. 

They’re lucky the Merchant is so close. Ashley frantically shoves her shoulders into the door and falls backwards into the room, Leon’s upper body flopping into her lap. Ashley digs her boots into the carpet and tugs him all the way inside. The door shuts after his trailing feet, and she collapses. His head rolls across her chest and she quickly grabs it, clamping her hand over the bleeding.  

“Stranga’ —” 

“Are we safe here?” Ashley whirls around and cuts off the Merchant still set up behind his table in the corner. “They won’t come in here, will they?” 

The Merchant chuckles. “Not a chance, mate. Can’t have the likes of them bargin’ in and causin’ trouble for my payin’ customers, now can I?” 

Ashley sighs with relief. The real reassurance is remembering how calm Leon always is when bartering with the Merchant, always more focused on appraising a new gun than watching their environment. They’ll be safe here for a little while.  

The Merchant watches quietly, the rustle of thick canvas as he shifts his feet the only interruption. Ashley carefully slides Leon off of her and lays him down, keeping pressure on his head as she rolls him on his side. Outside, the footsteps get a bit closer, close enough that she can hear the cultists’ murmurs. Ashley watches the door. She can feel Leon’s pulse under her hands, can hear him breathing in even swoops. 

The footsteps recede, the cultists giving up their hunt. Ashley shudders and looks down at Leon’s relaxed expression. She peels her hand away from his head and clumps of hair stick to her palm — the blood is drying. Ashley stands up and straightens her jacket, reluctantly turning away from him. 

She walks up to the Merchant’s table and looks him in his yellowed eyes, lifting her chin and drawing herself up. 

His eyebrow twitches with curiosity, glancing over at Leon. “Seems you ran into a bit of trouble. What’ya buyin’?” 

“What do you have?” Ashley asks. “I need—” 

Actually, she isn’t sure what she needs. She would settle for a bottle of water just to clean off the blood, but if the Merchant has more to offer, she’ll do whatever she can. She runs through the injuries she knows Leon has accumulated over the past few hours: cuts, bites, burns, and certainly bruises. Every creature that gets their hands on him wants to toss him around before tearing off a piece. 

“I just need supplies. Whatever you have.” 

The Merchant spreads his hands on the table. “I’ll give you a fair deal, but I can’t do much without cash, mate.” 

Right... Ashley touches her pockets, knowing she’s already checked for forgotten American bills while Leon was bargaining for his new shotgun. She would sell the clothes off her back if they were worth anything — anything is worth making sure Leon is okay. 

Leon has traded a few treasures picked up along the way, tucked in little corners like offerings or for safekeeping. Ashley tucks her hair behind her ears and reaches up to unclasp her earrings. They were a gift from her grandmother, a family heirloom. Real pearls must be worth something. “Will these do?” She holds them out hopefully. 

The Merchant picks the earrings out of her hand and inspects them in the blue lantern light on his table. “Hmm... I can certainly do something with this...” He unclips his coat and opens it, tucking the jewelry into a pocket and closing the flap again. “You have yourself a deal.” 

Sorry, Grandma. Ashley takes the outstretched hand and shakes it. “Great... so, um...” 

The Merchant chuckles and gestures to the parted curtains leading to what looks like an elevator set seamlessly into the castle wall like it belongs there. Jaunty, welcoming music plays faintly from inside. “Why don’t you take yourselves somewhere more comfortable, and I’ll see what I can do.” 

What choice is there? “Uh, okay.” Ashley steps away from the table and turns around. 

She crouches beside Leon, looking at the Merchant over her shoulder. He doesn’t seem keen on leaving his table. What have I gotten myself into? Ashley works off the guns and harness and sits Leon against her leg. The elevator seems a long way away, taunting. Come on, Ash, not far. She loops one muscular arm around her neck and scoops under his knees. 

There’s no way she can carry him to the elevator, but having just his ass creating friction with the floor makes it a bit easier to drag him over the carpet. She walks carefully backwards, ignoring the Merchant’s watchful gaze. Couldn’t help a girl out, or does that cost extra? She’s not about to complain and risk Leon’s relationship with seemingly the only other person who doesn’t want him dead. That’s fine, I’ve got this. 

Ashley drags Leon into the elevator and reaches up for the button. She holds him close as the doors slide shut. 

The elevator begins to smoothly descend. It’s not worth thinking about why or how this is here, whatever this happens to be.  

The doors slide open, revealing a cozy rest area and a shooting range down some steps just beyond. The lights flicker on, revealing a gramophone in the corner as the source of the music. Ashley gets on the other side of Leon, resting her muscles for a moment before dragging him backwards through the doors. His head bounces on her shoulder, his face a rare expression of peace. She looks down at the hand settled limply in his lap, blood flaking off his fingers from the cut in his glove. 

It wasn’t your fault, Ash. None of it is. 

Leon would reassure her again, if he was awake. She’s wary to be so close to him after having her body stolen from her, especially while he’s unable to protect himself against her spontaneously trying to kill him, but she can’t just leave him on the floor and tuck herself in a corner while she waits for him to wake up. 

The black lines have faded from her arms. Come to think of it, the plaga is imperceptible inside of her. Leon’s skin looks clearer, too. 

Get it together, Ash. She shakes her head and focuses up ahead, dragging Leon across the floorboards and over to the antique sofa against the wall. She lays Leon flat for a moment, turning to move the guitar out of the way and position the throw pillow. 

Great. How is this going to work? Ashley steps over Leon to face the sofa and maneuvers under him again. “Sorry,” she grunts, wedging her knee under his lower back. “Not my fault you weight a ton.” 

With a one-two-three, she heaves him off the floor, lifting with her arms and pushing under him with her leg. It takes her whole body strength to get him off the floor, but she manages to hoist him high enough off the ground to slide him off her knee and drop him onto the sofa. He lands with a painful thump, and she sighs with relief, arching her back. 

Hope I don't have to do that again. Ashley catches his slipping arm and rests it over his belly, making sure his head is positioned omfortably on the pillow while her screaming muscles recover. Is he always that pale? 

“I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” Ashley holds up her hands and turns around. “I’ve got this—” 

The words dry up as she stares at the table in front of her. Fresh food and drinks have been pushed to one side to leave room for a neat spread of first-aid supplies, enough to stock an emergency room. 

How— She shakes her head. Never mind. 

Where even to begin? There’s more than enough stuff here. She would much rather the situation called for her driver’s ed instead, but that first-aid class she took in high school is coming back to her. Triage, right. Ashley shrugs off her jacket and drapes it over an ornate chair. 

All that gear has to come off first, and there is a lot of it. His pockets are full of supplies he’s picked up here and there, boxes of bullets rattling as she loosens his belts and straps. Ashley makes a neat pile beside the guitar. 

Under the vest, there isn’t much to see, mostly scuffs and bruises — no excuse to take off the shirt, then. Shame. Ashley huffs and lifts it up just to check, turning him onto his back to make sure there are only bruises hiding there. The arrowhead has burned a small black scuff on his shirt, leaving nothing but a red spot on his chest beneath.  

Should have worn that armor like I suggested. The breastplate, at least. If bullets bounce off those freaky skull helmets she’s seen a couple of cultists wearing, then arrows wouldn’t get through a metal breastplate. Maybe I should wear a suit of armor... Then he wouldn’t have to worry about me so much. 

What Leon really needs is a bath. If only the Merchant had set up shop in a bathroom... Ashley fantasizes about a giant, opulent bathtub full to the brim with hot water as she peels off Leon’s elbow pads. Blood leaks out from rings of deep puncture wounds on either side of his elbow, gouged from a black wolf that managed to get its oversized mouth around his arm. Leon had shoved his elbow in further and body-slammed it into the ground, breaking its neck and killing it. He’d pried its jaws off him and whirled around to blast away the next wolf before Ashley could ask if he was alright. 

There are bloody, evenly-spaced tears in his pant leg she hasn’t noticed before. Ashley tentatively tugs up the fabric to expose the deep gouges halfway up his calf on both sides. She’s seen enough bear traps scattered around to know what caused this. 

Leon’s troubles began before he found her in that church. She wonders what else he had to fight through to get to her. 

Leon is tight-lipped and reserved, other than a few quips that show a glimmer of corny personality. She could use a stupid quip right about now... Ashley rolls Leon’s pant leg back down and unzips the fly, carefully tugging the waistband down his hips, leaving him in a pair of snug black boxer-briefs. She pulls the waistband upward so it doesn’t catch on the splintered remains of the arrow shaft. 

There are a few more cuts on his legs, Ashley can only guess from what. 

Aw, jeez. I’m gonna have a crush on you for a long time. Could anyone blame her? Why did her dad have to pick the prettiest agent to send to her rescue? The upside of this stupid crush is that maybe Leon will take over enough of her dreams to outpace the traumatic ones. I’m gonna be dreaming about bugs for a long time... And they aren’t even out of here yet. They still have to get rid of these parasites and escape, and who knows what horrors are left to come. Ashley carefully removes an egg that has somehow survived in Leon’s pocket and puts it on the table. She folds up his pants and adds them to the pile. 

With some idea of what she's dealing with, Ashley turns around to take stock of what the Merchant has left for her. She’s going to need pliers of some sort to pull out that arrow, wincing at the idea. If she doesn’t have to cut the stupid thing out, she’ll consider both of them lucky. 

There are lots of little containers and bags. Ashley unzips one and rummages inside. Where did this stuff come from, anyway? The packaging is written in three languages, Spanish printed first instead of English. 

In the middle of the pile is a small stack of papers. Ashley picks them up and rifles through them, frowning at the cartoon drawings of the Merchant treating a sailor and accompanied by Spanish instructions, demonstrating how to apply first-aid to an array of injuries. She has neither the time nor the energy to question who printed these and when; burns, poison, broken bones, and amputations, it’s all here. Ashley picks out the one depicting a sailor impaled with a cutlass, and figures this is what she’s looking for. 

Thank goodness for the pictures, even if they are comically graphic. In a way, she finds them strangely reassuring. 

Quitar el objeto — Ashley pales at the image of the Merchant pulling the cutlass out of the sailor’s chest and looks down at the supplies. One of the bags almost resembles a toolbox, some of the equipment reminding her of the dungeons. She stifles the memory and reaches for the pliers. You can do this. 

After removing the object, she can skip the step where the sailor’s organs are pushed back inside and go straight to Detener el sangrado — the Merchant is pressing on the squirting wound. The next image shows the Merchant washing his hands and preparing alcohol wipes. Ashley puts down the paper and looks down at her hands. There isn’t any running water to wash them under, but she does find latex gloves among the supplies. 

For wound cleaning, there are syringes and vials of saline solution. If she untwists the needle part, she could squirt straight into the wounds and flush them. Ashley turns around and looks over at Leon blissfully out cold on the sofa. 

“Maybe stay asleep for a little while...” she murmurs, turning back to her instruction sheet. 

The final steps are to stitch the wound, apply a little healing spray to the wounds, and cover them. Ashley estimates how much stuff she’ll need, reluctantly taking out some supplies for stitching, too. There’s an instruction sheet in the stack for how to do it, so she really has no excuse. 

I can do this. It can’t be that hard, right? Ashley hovers over Leon and rips open the package of latex gloves with a wince. The longer she waits, the more chance there is that he wakes up in the middle of her work. 

He seems not likely to, breathing steadily through his lightly-parted lips and his eyes still firmly closed.  

“Please don’t wake up.” She snaps on one glove, then the other. Deep breaths. Focus, Ashley. You’ve got this. 

-- 

The arrow comes out with a sharp tug, and the blood flow stems after a couple of minutes of firm pressure. 

The newer injuries are easier to clean, having not been exposed to filth like the others. Ashley has no idea how long it takes to flush out the rest, but she swallows her apprehension and jams the syringe into the puncture wounds on his arm first. She depresses the plunger firmly, jetting saline into the hole and forcing out any gunk still inside. It’s gross, but the constant spray of viscera over the past few hours has numbed her to it. The bleeding stops easily, and she covers her work with generous dressings — there’s no need to ration the way Leon does with his supplies. 

Leon doesn’t make a sound throughout, even as she squirts mud and grit from deep inside his calf. The force of the trap has formed thick bruising around his leg, but he can still kick cultists across the room so it can’t be broken. 

She probably made a thousand mistakes, but Leon is better than he was, so she has to content herself with that. Ashley presses down a strip of tape to hold the last bandage around his leg and peels off the final set of gloves, throwing them into the pile of trash. Now all she wishes for is a blanket to spread over him.  

Ashley sighs, feeling the adrenaline drain from her body.  “You were a good patient.” 

The food laid out for them smells amazing. Ashley turns away from Leon and slumps over to the other side of the table, picking up a bread roll and munching needily on it. It’s fresh, and it tastes like heaven to her painfully-empty stomach. Since being kidnapped, she hasn’t had anything to eat aside from the egg Leon boiled for her half a day ago. She should have paid better attention to him in that little shack, but she was too shell-shocked from their escape out of the village. That brief moment feels like weeks ago. 

Leon was kind enough to give her the egg and eat the snake himself, which judging by his expression wasn’t very good. Given that he wasn’t sent with so much as a granola bar, this whole situation is obviously far, far beyond what he expected. 

And yet, none of this insanity has thrown Leon off. Maybe he does a lot of missions like this... Later, she’ll ask, and if she’s lucky, he’ll answer. 

Ashley peels a mandarin orange and puts the whole thing in her mouth, turning her back on the food for just a moment. Leon’s clothes are still on the floor, in various states of disrepair. She makes a neat stack of all his gear and carries it toward the elevator. The Merchant offered his repair services when Leon bought that vest — maybe he can fix everything else, too. 

The elevator doors slide smoothly shut. Ashley shifts her feet nervously as Leon is blocked from view. It’s hard to tell how far up the elevator goes, but it isn't long before the doors slide open.  

The first thing she hears when she steps out is grinding metal. Ashley flinches, but it’s just the Merchant working a grinding wheel with a foot pedal, sparks flying off Leon’s knife as he sharpens the repaired blade. The guns and harness Ashley discarded are neatly arranged on his table, polished spotless. 

“Stranga’!” The Merchant stops his work and welcomes her. “The goods were to your satisfaction?” 

“Y-yeah,” she nods, walking over to his table. 

“Excellent! Satisfaction guaranteed, every time. Now, what can I do you for?” He slides the knife back into its holster on the harness and lays his hands on the table. 

She hands over the stack. “His stuff is in pretty bad shape. I was hoping you might be able to fix it for him.” 

He slides the guns aside to make room. Ashley sets the pile on the table and reaches for her necklace while he examines the items. 

“Did I give you enough before? If you need me to, I can—” 

The Merchant waves his hand. “Consider it paid for. Can’t have my best customer running around in sub-par gear, now, can I?” He winks. 

Ashley sighs with relief, feeling herself start to unravel. “Thank you.” 

“You won’t find better customer service anywhere else,” the Merchant declares. 

Ashley has to agree. “If I find any treasure after this, it’s yours.” They’ll run into the strange man again, if the last few hours are anything to go by. 

The Merchant laughs. “I’ll gladly take anything off your 'ands that you find around this place. Not like they’ll be needin’ any of it, ‘eh?” He gestures the door to the hall with his thumb. 

A chuckle escapes, and Ashley finds herself smiling. “No, I guess not.” 

“You best be off,” the Merchant waves her back toward the elevator, already picking at the gouges in Leon’s body armor. “I’ve got work to do.” 

Maybe he’s helping out of some sense of altruism, or maybe all ledgers really are settled. Ashley never did get those earrings appraised. Grandma won’t mind, she hopes. Ashley walks back to the elevator and presses the button, the door closing out the sounds of the Merchant rummaging for tools in his jacket. 

Her chest feels lighter. Ashley steps back into the rest area and snags herself some sliced sandwiches from a silver platter on her way back to the sofa. 

Leon is right where she left him, as comfortable as she could make him. Ashley sits on the floor beside him and munches on her sandwiches, washing them down with ice water from a pitcher. She brushes crumbs from her fingers and reaches out to touch his cheek. It’s warm, but not dangerously so. There’s a small dot of blood on the bandages wrapped around his head, but it’s already drying. 

“You’ll be alright,” she murmurs. “We both will be.” 

The best she can do to help him now is try to rest and regain the energy to keep up with him. But even with eased nerves and a full stomach, she feels too buzzed to sleep. Ashley takes Leon’s hand and gently squeezes it, hanging on selfishly for comfort. While fighting he’s been sharp with her, grabbed a little too tightly, shoved her roughly out of the way, but when the danger is dealt with, he’s always treated her gently. He may have been sent here on orders, but he still genuinely cares. 

A PA system crackles. Ashley looks around for some kind of speaker, tightening her hand around Leon’s in anticipation for Salazar’s taunting voice. 

Instead, the Merchant’s voice comes through. “Stranga’, lookin’ for something to pass the time? How about a game, ‘eh?” 

Ashley looks around the wall and down the short flight of steps to the range. The lights turn on, revealing a counter arranged with guns, and a set of tracks extending to the back wall painted with a pirate ship sailing on crashing waves. 

“Got a game set up, just for you. I’ll teach'ya how to reload and everything. What’ddaya say, stranga’?” 

Ashley perks up and lets go of Leon’s hand, rising to her feet curiously. Who’s going to stop her? Not Leon. She pulls her jacket off the chair, inspecting it. The outside is lightly splattered with gore, but it’s long dried and the inside lining is clean. Ashley tucks it around Leon’s hips and thighs and leaves him to catch up on the rest he deserves. 

Chapter Text

The first sense that comes back is sound: energetic music fills the room, punctuated with the crack of a shotgun and the explosion of wood. It’s this strange confluence of noises that makes it difficult for Leon to piece together his most recent memories. 

The pounding headache certainly doesn’t help. He aches all over, some of the pain caused by injuries scattered all over his body, the rest by overworked muscles that have seized up from resting too long. He usually doesn’t find himself in this sort of state until the mission is over, and he doesn’t remember finishing whatever his current mission was. 

The shotgun blasts off again, Ashley whoops as wood splinters, and it comes back to him. 

Leon’s eyes fly open, and he’s instantly blinded by bright rainbow lights, forcing him to shut them again. Leon gasps and throws his arm over his face, breathing through the wave of nausea and pain. 

“Leon?” Ashley’s boots thump on wooden floorboards. Leon hears the familiar grumble of the Merchant from somewhere overhead as the music is cut off. Ashley is upon him before he can get his eyes open again, touching his arm with soft hands. “Oh my god, you’re awake!” 

Regrettably. Luckily, the persistent pounding in his head stops the reply from coming out. 

He has to make sure she’s okay, check that nothing happened to her while he left her to fend for herself. The dizziness is starting to clear. He digs his hand into the leather sofa, the dog bite around his elbow keeping him from extending it fully. Ashley slides a hand around his back to help before he has to concede that he’s in too much pain.  

“Here, let me get you some water.” Ashley’s hand pulls away. “The Merchant gave me some herbs, but you have to eat them.” 

Leon tentatively lowers his arm from his face and cracks open an eye, then the other. Without the rainbow lights, the room is comfortably dim, lit only by a few lamps on the walls emanating a warm orange glow. He blinks his vision clear and takes in the room. If anything, it looks like the cabin of a pirate ship. The gramophone in the corner plays soft, familiar music. 

The table near the sofa is covered in food, drink, and medical supplies. Leon looks from the pile of used wrappers to his body, lifting Ashley's orange jacket away from his thighs. His arms and legs are covered in bandages, every cut, scrape, and gouge he accumulated cleaned and neatly dressed. 

With no grime to obscure it, it’s obvious how much the monsters of the last few hours have been whittling away at him. 

Leon pushes the bandage off his head and stares at the thick browning bloodstain on the gauze pad. He ruffles his hair back into place and prods at the edges of the wound. It’s hot and swollen, and the obvious cause of the gap in his memories. 

The fight wasn’t yet over. There were still enemies remaining, swarming them in the shimmering halls of the castle. Under the brilliant light of the crystal chandelier, Ashley was screaming. 

“Leon.” 

He looks up at her. Ashley pouts down at him with a plate of food in one hand and wine glass full of ice water in the other. He looks down at the bandage in his hand and tosses it into the pile of trash. “Sorry...” 

“Stop touching it,” she chastises. “I worked hard on that, you know. Now scooch.” 

Leon pulls his hand away from the wound and turns around, sliding his legs off the sofa with a groan. Punctured, bruised, and overworked muscles pull painfully, and he hopes the first-aid spray and those promised herbs will heal him enough that he can move normally. At least they’re safe enough down here to rest a little. Leon puts his bare feet on the floor and shuffles sideways to make room. He restrains a groan as his limbs struggle to manage his weight, but he only needs move an inch before Ashley is plopping down beside him, wedged tightly between him and the sofa arm. Regardless, she seems comfortable, and Leon finds her proximity oddly stabilizing.  

“Feeling okay?” she asks, reaching over to the table and rummaging for a vial of multicolored herbs out of one of the bags. “Not nauseous?” 

“I feel fine," he reassures, watching as she untwists the lid and tips the contents into the water, swirling it gently to mix them. 

“You look a lot better.” She leans around him to get a look at his head. “That healing spray did the trick. And this will help a lot.” She offers up the glass eagerly. 

Leon takes it and drinks. It’s been ages since he found any herbs. They impart a mildly bitter taste, but are diluted enough that the water is still sweet to his parched mouth. After hours of debating whether he should risk sipping from the puddles, swamps and even the lake, it tastes like heaven. Who knew it could take so little time to forget the taste of clean water. Leon picks a canapé off his plate. The sharp, sweet taste of a fresh cherry tomato topped with feta explodes on his tongue, erasing the taste of viper. He quickly eats another and follows it up with a swig of crisp, fresh water.  

“You ate?” Leon asks, turning his head so he can get a good look at Ashley. She looks fine; the dots of blood soaked into her sweater aren’t hers. 

“Mm-hm.” 

“You’re not hurt?” 

“No, I’m fine,” she reassures with a smile. “You protected me, as usual.” 

It’s difficult to be too solemn when she’s smiling at him like that, and she deserves his pride. Leon can’t help but smile a bit himself. “Seems you did just fine without me.” 

“Barely,” she scoffs, playing nervously with her hands. “Please don’t do that again. I can’t get out of this without you... and I really don’t like it when you get hurt." 

If he hadn’t screwed up, she wouldn’t have to worry about him. “It won’t happen again,” he promises. “Thanks for your help.” Leon debates asking her to recap what he missed, but they’re both alive, so perhaps that’s all the detail he needs. She must have dragged him out of the castle hall and down here to safety. He might owe her his life. 

“You’re welcome.” Ashley smiles cheerfully. 

Leon is used to working alone, but as far as partners go, she’s among the better ones he’s had to work with. Most of that is because of how well she obeys his commands, but admittedly, her helpfulness and cheerful demeanor is a pleasant treat. 

People cope with trauma in different ways, he supposes. All of this will hit her when it’s over, and he’s not about to make her wrestle with it before they’re out of danger. Leon nods at her bruising shoulder and licks a crumb of baguette from his lips. 

“Testing out a shotgun, I see.” 

“Oh,” she looks at her shoulder. “I had to keep myself busy somehow.” 

Leon offers her his glass of water. “Sounded like you were making progress.” 

Ashley ponders over the glass before succumbing and taking it from his hands, taking a tiny sip and wincing at the bitter flavor before handing it back. “I did my best.” She shrugs. “Kind of hard without someone there to show me — no offense!” She adds to the ceiling. 

“None taken,” the Merchant joins in over the PA. 

“But he explained how to reload, and I can hit a moving target! I practiced with a pistol, too!” 

These herbs are going to take a bit of time to work. Ashley looks happier than she’s been since he met her (which is understandable), and she could probably use a break. Leon finishes the water and puts down his plate, handing over her jacket. “Wanna have another go? I can give you some pointers.” 

“Really?” Ashley perks up and leans in. Her eyes scan over his body, lingering on his leg before locking back onto his eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to rest?” 

He desperately does, but he’s already rested for far too long. The medicine is clearing up his headache, and the lights should no longer be a problem. “Nah, I’m alright,” he reassures, reaching out with a wince to put down his empty dishes. 

Ashley’s keen eyes that have helped him with many a puzzle are still locked tightly onto him. “If you’re sure.” She puts her jacket back on and stands up, hanging close and offering her hands. “Here, let me help you.” 

It’s too late to say no, and it’d be rude to turn her down. Leon takes her hands. The lingering urge to protest is blocked only by a breathy, surprised grunt of pain as she helps pull him to his feet. Ashley fits herself neatly under his arm, pulling him against her and holding on tight while the new wave of dizziness clears up again.  

Ashley balances him with ease, legs spread for stability while she waits patiently for him to recover. She could ask again if he’s alright, and he would reply that he’s fine because he’s used to that. Walk it off, Krauser would say. If you can walk, you can do that. Krauser, and every mission since Raccoon City taught him how to pull everything in tight and hang on until the mission is over. And once you start getting good at hanging on, it gets harder to let go. 

There’s no need, not now. Ashley already knows the truth of his condition in intimate detail. Strangely, it provides some relief, freeing him of any need to give her the honesty she deserves. 

So, wordlessly, he just lets her help him. And she, wordlessly, does. 

I think I might miss you, after this. 

It’s not supposed to be that way. But she seems happy being close, and he’s having a hard time not enjoying her caring touch. It’s rare that anyone lays their hands on him in such a way. It’s been so long, and it’s as refreshing as that sip of water. 

Everything hurts, but moving around will help work out the stiffness. Leon limps along the wooden floor, the varnished texture pleasant on his bare feet. It’s quite the change from the splintering, rotten wood of the village’s dilapidating structures. For whatever reason, the plaga has receded within both of them, resting so that they can do the same. So much beyond comprehension has happened within the last day that he doesn’t dare dedicate any thought to the matter. 

Nothing is familiar — not the setting, nor Ashley’s doting company — but it feels homely, in a way. For once, every element is out of place, just like him. 

Ashley ties it all together, taking charge of the space as if it’s hers and inviting him to be part of it. She helps him down the steps and into the shooting range just as the light flicker back on to illuminate the tracks and the array of weapons spread out on one side of the counter. 

The shotgun resting crooked to the others looks exactly like the one he picked up in the village and sold to the Merchant as soon as the man had a better replacement available. 

They both look up as the ceiling as the PA crackles on again. “So, which gun would you like to take a crack at?” the Merchant asks, and Leon can practically hear him grinning. 

Leon looks down at Ashley tucked close to him, and she looks back hopefully. “Well?” he unhooks his arm from around her shoulders and gestures the array of weapons. “Why don’t you give your shoulder a rest and pick something other than the shotgun.” 

Ashley draws carefully away from him, making sure he’s alright before giving the assortment of weapons her attention. 

“How about a pistol?” Leon suggests. “We can start easy, so I can see where you’re at.”  

There’s quite the assortment. Leon limps up beside her and surveys them, pawing at his hip for his own gun so he can compare. Right...  

“Okay,” Ashley agrees, pondering over the assortment. 

“Which one did you try before?” 

“This one,” she points at the blacktail. 

It’s not a bad choice. The Merchant keeps good stock. “One more thing,” Leon looks at her, and she looks back, alert and eager for his guidance. “Uh... where are my pants?” 

--

No pants aside, Leon finds a comfortable position leaning against the barrel in the corner, crossing one ankle over the other to let his more-recently injured leg rest. He folds his arms over his chest and watches Ashley pick off the targets as they pop up, letting himself fade into the background so she can focus. The Merchant's encouragements make up for his silence.  

Ashley’s brow is tightly furrowed as she fires in quick succession at the targets popping up and moving along the tracks. She groans in frustration as the recoil drags her aim up and to the right, causing her to miss the final shot. It’s obvious she’s been practicing, but she’s still nervous, still failing to fully control the weapon. The magazine clatters against the handle as she struggles to slot it smoothly in. 

The Merchant announces the end of the round, and Ashley lowers the gun, turning to look to Leon. 

She would make a good agent; smart, sharp-witted, a quick and willing learner. A kind soul, someone who cares deeply about the people around her — this job would kill a part of her like it did for him.  

But for now, they’re just having fun, unwinding their nerves so they can wind up again and get out of this awful place. Leon pushes off the barrel and limps over to her. 

“Not bad,” he offers. “Your aim overall is good, but the gun is controlling you.” 

He doesn’t miss the way she glances at his arms. 

“Here.” He judges her elbow, and she lifts her arms hesitantly into position. “Lean into the shot, pull the trigger harder. Slow down so you can readjust your aim if you have to.” 

Ashley slides her leg back a bit and leans forward, gripping the gun tighter. 

“Not too tight,” Leon corrects, nudging her crossed thumbs with his finger. “And straighten these out.” 

Ashley frowns and loosens, adjusting her grip. “Like that...?” 

“You’ll be a sharpshooter in no time.” Leon smiles, gesturing the range. Almost immediately, the music starts to swell, and the first cut-out flips up in the middle of the range. 

Ashley hums with pride and snaps the gun onto the target, squeezing the trigger and blasting it down. 

She’s getting the hang of it. Leon stays close, watching the boards move up and down the range at increasing speed as Ashley fires at them. The music only calms during the reload period. Ashley is doing better than before, slowing herself down so she can smoothly reload.  

That’s it. Leon enjoys a moment more of her satisfied smirk before the targets pop up again. 

Some of the targets have medallions placed on them for extra points, but Ashley is still struggling to hit them at close range. The cut-outs are easy; slow-moving, large, and downed with one hit. The medallions are still too hard for her to hit with a pistol. On the contrary, she hasn’t hit a sailor once, sometimes at the expense of missing a pirate, preferring to wait for a clear shot than risk friendly fire. It’s that sort of caution that would make him seriously consider giving her a gun if she asked him for one. 

No. It’s his job to keep her safe. I won’t slip up again. 

“I got it!” Ashley cheers. “I hit it, did you see?” 

Leon blinks his eyes back into focus just in time to see the medallion break off the collapsed target and shatter with a bright clink sound. The music fades away and the round ends. 

“Please tell me you saw it!” Ashley lowers the gun and grabs his arm. 

“I saw, I saw.” Leon reassures. “You did good.” 

“It’s way easier to hit those things with the shotgun,” Ashley bemoans, setting the gun on the countertop. “I can’t believe I only got one.”  

“Hey, one is great. It takes a lot of practice to hit a thing that small.”  

“If you say so.” Ashley eyes the array of guns. 

“You want to go again?” 

“Hmm... no, I think it’s your turn.” She grins widely, grabbing his arm and pulling him closer. Her smile falters briefly. “If- if you feel up to it.” 

“All the ammo is free,” the Merchant coaxes over the PA. 

How could he say no? Leon sighs. It seems like fun, and it’s not a bad idea to make sure his aim hasn’t suffered from the ordeal. “I think I could manage a quick one.” It’s getting easier to move by the minute. 

Ashley whoops and pulls away, strutting over to the barrel and hopping onto it to watch.  

“So, what’ll it be?” the Merchant tempts. 

Best to start easy. Leon flexes his hands and stretches out his arms, rolling his joints and shifting his weight between his feet. Confident that the lingering soreness won’t impede him, he picks up the blacktail. The grip is still warm. 

Almost instantly, the Merchant starts the round, and Leon snaps up the gun to take down the first target that pops up right in front of him. 

Are these pre-made cycles, or are the targets moving on the Merchant’s whim? Anything is possible. Whatever the case, the Merchant has increased the difficulty for him. Leon hears the gun click empty. The gauze padding out his palm almost makes him drop the new mag, and he finds himself taking his own advice and slowing himself down so he can slot it smoothly in. 

Leon picks off the last of the pirates, sniping the last medallion as the target flies across the back wall. He’s about to put down the gun when the lights change color, filling the range with spinning rainbow blotches. 

The Merchant sounds more excited than Ashley as he announces bonus time. Leon quickly reloads and takes aim at the gold treasure chest cut-outs and the remaining medallions. He knocks out the last one and stares out at the empty range as the lights dim. 

“Woah...” Ashley murmurs. 

“A spectacular performance, stranga'!” The Merchant chimes in. 

Perhaps he should have come down here sooner, though he doesn’t understand why they’re so excited; have they forgotten the ‘highly-trained agent’ part? Besides, they’re only down here because of his fuck-up. He hopes Ashley doesn’t think he was trying to show off, but when he looks over she’s already running over to him with a bright grin on her face, grabbing his arm and pointing at the wall. 

Leon watches as round tokens roll out of a slot in the wall and down the counter, tipping over and coming to rest nearby. Curiously, he puts down the gun and walks over, but Ashley beats him to it, scooping them up and counting them.  

“Wow, you got so many!” She holds them up for him to see in one hand while rummaging in her pocket for hers. “Yours are... different?” 

Some are blue, some are gold. Leon looks between them and the one she produces from her pocket. Ashley holds up a single black token embossed with a pistol.  

“I won it when I knocked down all the pirates with the shotgun,” she explains proudly. “The Merchant said we can trade these for stuff.” 

“What kind of stuff?” 

“I dunno.” Ashley shrugs. “Are you gonna go again?” 

Much as he would enjoying staying down here a bit longer and testing out some of those other guns on display, the medicines have done their work. Any remaining soreness will fade, and won’t cause him any problems. 

“Nah, we should get moving,” Leon says. 

“Aw, I wanted to see you try the rifle...” 

Leon chuckles. “Maybe if we run into this place again, we can take another break and I’ll try it out.” If not for his sake, then for hers. “You can try it out too, if you want.” She might struggle with his SR M1903, but the much lighter and easier-to-load Stringray would be a good gun to practice with for an hour. 

“That’d be fun!” Ashley agrees. “Did you have fun?” she peers up at him. 

He smiles back. “Yeah, I did.” Even if the cheering squad was a strange novelty. 

“Great! You look a lot better.” Her smile widens even more at that. 

He feels better, even though apprehension has started to grow again at what lies ahead. The parasite inside of him has been almost imperceptible since waking up down here, but they still have to meet up with Luis and be rid of them before they can go home. 

“Come on, let me look you over again,” Ashley takes his hand and pulls him back toward the stairs. “I bet the Merchant is done fixing your stuff by now. And I want to see what we won!” 

You really are making the best of it, aren’t you. Leon trails speechless after her. He had completely forgotten about his pants... 

For a moment he can imagine himself at a fair playing midway games, or at an arcade. Perhaps they would go to a restaurant afterwards, or eat takeout in the park. He wonders if she longs for something normal, too. 

It’s too late for that. It’s too late to unlearn all the things he’s learned and put these skills to waste. There will be other Saddlers, and other Ashleys. Not other Ashleys, there won’t be. 

She brings him back to the sofa and sits him down, turning to rummage around in the bags of supplies. “I swear I saw scissors in here somewhere...” 

Leon picks at tape holding the bandage around his thigh and unwinds it curiously. The loops fall to the floor and the folded gauze pad pressed against the hole peels away. The pad is saturated with blood and fluid, but the wound underneath looks weeks old. It’s impossible to gauge how bad it must have looked when Ashley dealt with it. Leon rubs his thumb over the scarring skin and the aged bruising surrounding it, scratching at a deep healing itch.  

“Oh wow!” Ashley leans over him with the bandage scissors brandished. “That one looked bad. It was all burned at the edges. Does it hurt?” 

Not anymore. He stops himself, for her sake. “A- a little,” he admits. “Just a muscle ache, don’t worry. At this rate, I’m sure it’ll be gone soon.” He adds quickly, not wanting to worry her. I can still do my job. I can still protect you. Nothing will stop me from doing that. 

Ashley sits beside him and reaches for his arm. “This one was pretty bad too," she says, cupping her hand under his elbow and pulling it gently towards herself. She slides the scissors under the edge and cuts carefully along his forearm. Her touch is steady and warm, a touch he knows he’ll miss when he’s getting prodded by medical staff at the end of this mission. Their knees are touching. Leon watches her focused expression as she works. He’s supposed to be the one reassuring her, but her confidence is doing the same for him. 

Leon looks at the pile of used supplies and spots the syringes. “Did you...” 

Ashley catches his gaze and focuses back on her work, adjusting her grip to cut up his bicep. “Squirt gunk out of all these holes? Yup.” She pulls away the bandage and lifts his arm so she can inspect every puncture. Each one is sealed and fading, patterned with aged bruises but not swollen or discolored — not infected. 

“Looks like you did a good job,” Leon remarks. “Sorry... I’d have helped.” 

“Probably for the best you weren’t awake.” She bundles away the dressings and swaps arms, taking his hand and cutting the gauze off his palm. “It’d have sucked for both of us if you were. And plus, it’s not like you’d have let me help you.” Her eyes flick up at him before focusing back on his hand. 

The bandages are bloody, but the wound is just a thin white line, almost invisible. Leon watches Ashley’s thumb tenderly traces the edge as if it were still open. 

Leon won’t deny his own stubbornness, learned over many years of brutal training, but it’s perhaps partly in his nature. “I wouldn't have wanted you to feel bad,” he reasons softly, and it’s the truth. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” she cries. “I don’t care whose fault it is, I still care!” 

There are tears gathering in her eyes. Leon turns his hand and takes hers. “I know,” he says. “Thank you. I try to be careful. But sometimes you just have to... push through. You can’t stop to bandage every cut on missions like these, or you risk losing the adrenaline.” 

Ashley puts down the scissors and rubs her eyes, sniffing and breathing in shivering swoops she’s trying to control. Leon tugs gently on her hand, and she gives in instantly, falling into his arms and squeezing tightly. 

“I know,” she croaks. “Well... I think I do. If I stop to think about it for too long, everything will fall apart, and I’m trying really hard to keep everything together. I don't want you to worry about me, either.” 

“That’s sorta my job,” Leon smiles, hugging her firmly back. “And you’ve been doing great, Ashley. I mean it.” 

“I don’t feel great,” she grumbles wetly, reaching around his back to paw at her eyes. “I just want to go home.” 

“Yeah, me too.” Leon sighs and thinks about it for much too long before rubbing his thumb into her back. She smells like gunpowder, rubbing alcohol, and faintly of whatever flowery perfume she must have put on before going out — before her whole life was upended. He doesn’t spend much time this close to people. Being touched so much is unusual, but he isn’t minding it. “I’ll get you home safe. Whatever it takes.” 

“That means you too, right?” her grip tenses around him. 

“Yeah, me too.” He smiles. “Can’t get you home if I’m dead, now can I?” 

“I suppose not...” she sniffs. 

“Thanks for taking care of me.” 

“You were a dream patient,” Ashley coughs out a laugh and sits off of him, ruffling out her hair and rubbing at her eyes some more. They’re red, but her face is dry.  

Hold it in. Hold it all in for now, but not so tight you can’t let it go. 

“Can you promise me one thing?” she asks, looking up at him. She’s so close, grabbing his arms and leaning closer. She waits for an answer, but he’s speechless, stuck staring at her bright green eyes that are grabbing his so intensely. “Can you please let me help you if it gets bad?” 

Leon isn’t sure he would be able to tell if a wound was serious enough to stop and deal with, not without letting go of the adrenaline necessary to keep moving to the end of the mission. He has a feeling that if a wound is serious enough to need her help, he’ll be long passed out. “Okay,” he promises anyway. “I’ll try.” 

“Best I can ask for, I guess.”  

She isn’t resentful. Leon watches her smooth her jacket, and draw it all back inside herself. She understands his reasoning, at least. 

“Come on,” he offers. “Let’s go see what you won, huh?” 

“And you.” Ashley’s smile is a bit worn down, but he can practically see her plastering over the cracks as she accepts his coaxing to soldier on. “Can’t forget your pants.” 

“And my guns.” 

“The guns are already out.” Ashley smirks and pats her bicep. She almost instantly flushes with horror. “Oh my god.” She quickly covers her face, whirling on her heel and running to the elevator. 

Guns...? He looks at his arms. His shirt sleeves are tight around his biceps. Oh. The gun show. 

They stare at the elevator doors and fidget as it rises. Leon tries to find a natural place to put his hands, but there is no belt to tuck his thumbs, no gun to rest his hand on. Finally, he settles on clasping them in front while Ashley fiddles with the tokens in her pocket. The elevator comes to a stop only a moment later, the doors sliding open to let them back into the castle. 

“Stranga’!” the Merchant greets him with open arms from behind his table before Leon is barely a step out of the elevator. “Lookin’ refreshed, I must say!” 

Leon looks around the room as he approaches the table, remembering stopping by briefly after escaping the infected dogs in the hedge maze. That feels like a lifetime ago. There's a case in the corner with a slot that would fit the cube-shaped key he picked up on the way out of the room with the infected armor. He walks up to the table, instantly spotting his pile of belongings, among them the cube. 

All his gear and clothing are neatly piled up, his guns polished spotless and lined up beside the pile. Every object he’s scavenged throughout the mission is carefully arranged, and not a single shell missing. 

“What’s the fee?” Leon asks, looking up at the Merchant. 

“Bought and paid for,” he winks back. “The lovely lady shelled out for you.” 

Ashley hums and stands beside him, eagerly gathering the tokens in her palms. 

“And the repairs?” Leon points at his stuff. He hadn’t even considered if Ashley had paid for the supplies with his money — from past buying experience it might have taken most of what he has right now, but the pile of pesetas looks to be untouched. 

“Well, you put on a good show.” The Merchant gestures for the tokens, and Ashley drops Leon’s winnings into his hand. “I’ll consider it free, this time.” 

Leon’s won’t argue with a deal like that. “Thanks. Can I put my pants back on now?” 

“If you have to...” Ashley murmurs, catching herself and turning away to cover her reddened face as the Merchant pushes his clothes over. 

Leon takes his pants and boots and backs away from the table, turning slowly away. He puts his boots down and bends down to put on his sockets first, leaning on the table for balance. Feeling eyes on him, he looks over his shoulder. 

The Merchant is staring obviously, and Ashley is peering at him through her fingers. She quickly shutters them and looks away with a squeak. 

Leon scowls at the Merchant. “Show’s not free.” 

The Merchant quickly looks at Ashley instead, pocketing the tokens and holding out his hand for hers. “Whatcha got there?” 

“O-oh, this!” Ashley perks up and hands over her token. 

Leon turns back and steps into his pants one leg at a time. The holes and scuffs are fully repaired. Even the bloodstains are removed, somehow. 

“Ah, a very special token indeed,” the Merchant appraises. “Entitles the holder to a gun of their choice — with some limitations, mind.” Added quickly, before Leon can whirl around and beg Ashley to trade it for that rocket launcher he’s been eying for the past few encounters.  

Leon keeps composed and listens closely, zipping up his fly and kneeling down to put on his boots. 

“May I recommend the blacktail?” the Merchant continues, fabric rustling as he opens his coat to reveal a no-doubt impressive selection. “A solid weapon, and well-suited to you, stranga’. Help keep those grabby ‘ands off ya —” 

“Um.” Ashley interrupts. “I...” 

Leon finishes his laces and stands up, walking back to the table, back to her side where she’s eying the gun on the table. She looks up at him with apprehension. The Merchant waits patiently. 

Before Leon has to think about how he feels about the decision, she’s stepping closer to him and snaking her arm around his. “Thanks, but I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” she says with a brave smile. “I think I want to practice a bit more first... just to be safe. And to not waste bullets, ya’know? It’s not like we have an infinite supply.” 

The Merchant chuckles and reaches for the gun. “Suit yourself —” 

“Can Leon have it?” Ashley asks eagerly. “Or can he pick a different one?” 

The Merchant chuckles, tucking the blacktail back into his coat and fastening it shut. He flicks Ashley’s token into the air and catches it. “He didn’t win the prize, I’m afraid. But if you want me to hold onto this in case you change your mind, I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.” He winks again. “Best be on your way, if there are no more services I can offer you.” 

Leon slides his belt off the table and strapping it around his waist. “The food was good, thank you.” 

“Complementary for visitors of the shooting range,” the Merchant says. “Stop by again.” 

“If we have time,” Leon replies firmly, though he already intends to make good on his promise to Ashley. And if there’ll be hot food and clean water... Well, it’s bad bargaining to seem too eager.  

Leon holsters his pistol and shoulders his harness, fitting the rifle to his back and keeping the shotgun out. He flips open the chamber, remembering clearly that he’d emptied it in the last fight, but finding it loaded full. He slides his knife out of the sheathe and turns the sharp, shiny blade in the light. 

“Gimme a minute,” he turns to Ashley, slotting the knife back into place. 

“Okay.” She smiles and hops off to inspect the decor on the other side of the room. 

Leon turns back to the Merchant and quickly counts the coins as he flicks them into his other hand. “What ammo you got?” 

“Ah,” the Merchant opens his coat again and pulls some boxes of bullets from one of his many pockets. “Those mumblin’ fellas sure are tenacious, aren’t they.” 

“Sure are,” Leon grumbles, looking over the arrangement. A full chamber of shotgun shells won’t get him far. Who knows how long it’ll be before he finds more. The rest, he’s doing fine on (more magnum ammo wouldn’t hurt, but his gun is fully loaded and he’s been saving it for a real nasty creature to empty it into). Leon nudges at a few boxes. 

“That all?” the Merchant separates out the ammunition and puts the rest away. 

Something catches Leon’s eye, small and dangling from the edge of a pocket — earrings. The pearl ones, specifically. They stand out among the other jewelry. Leon has debated keeping some of the treasures he’s collected, but it seems a cruel gift to give Ashley. Beautiful as the objects are, they would surely only remind her of this awful time. The earrings might do much the same, but she can always give them back and Leon can pawn them for cash again if she doesn’t want them. Leon glances over his shoulder to make sure she isn’t listening. He leans in. 

“Ah,” the Merchant whispers, leaning in as well and following Leon’s gaze. “Lookin’ for somethin’ special for the lady, eh?” 

Whatever the guy thinks this is, he’s wrong. Before he can think this through, Leon is sorting some money into his hand and offering it out. The Merchant winks and scoops the money into his hand, dropping the earrings into Leon’s palm. “A wise choice.” 

Leon pockets the ammo with the rest and carefully puts the earrings into an empty one, wondering if he should have waiting nearer the end of the adventure before buying them, in case they get lost or damaged. Are Ashley’s ears even pierced? If she’s already wearing earrings, he’ll have to hang onto them. 

Didn’t think it through. 

Oh well, it’s too late now. Leon turns away from the Merchant’s table. “Ashley.” 

The soft light makes her hair look golden. “All ready?” she beams, coming back to him. 

“If you are.” 

“I guess.” 

“Okay, stay close.” Leon walks up to the door and listens, but the halls are silent. He carefully nudges it open and sweeps the hall with the barrel of his shotgun, but the castle is seemingly empty. The hall is as quiet as they entered it, almost entirely pristine. 

The only thing marring its perfection are the discarded weapons, puddles of thick black goop, and the corpse of a melted plaga. Leon lowers his gun, taking it all in. There are gunshot scars on the staircase, and a trail of drying blood leading from the door to the puddle on the carpet. 

If the Merchant weren’t so close... 

No, it’s no use thinking about it. They’re safe, and it won't happen again. 

“Bye, thanks!” Ashley waves to the Merchant and shuts the door behind them, hanging by his side. “You okay...?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he reassures. “Ashley...?” 

“Uh-huh?” she peers at him with concern. 

He hesitates, and he isn’t sure why. The worst she can do is refuse the gift, and he would understand. When this mission is over, he might never see her again, so he has to take his chance while he can. Leon fishes the earrings out of his pocket and takes her hand, dropping them into it. 

“Leon...” Ashley stutters and cups the earrings, staring at them for far too long. 

Something seems wrong. He frowns, ready to provide an explanation if she’s too polite to word a refusal. “Ash—” 

But before he can figure out what to say, Ashley breaks the silence and tucks her hair behind her ears, revealing piercing holes. She pushes in the studs one at a time and rubs the smooth pearls with her fingers. Then, she lunges at him and hugs him tight. 

Leon pats her awkwardly on the back. 

“Come on, let’s go get that last statue,” she says, pulling away. “And get the heck out of here!” 

“Couldn’t agree more.” Leon smirks.  

And I won’t let you down.

Chapter Text

“Okay, I’m here.” Ashley stops in front of the doors to the apartment complex and looks through the glass at the empty lobby, trying to act natural. 

“Great! Give me o-one second...” Hunnigan says. A few clacks of the keyboard, and the lock clicks open, the card scanner flashing green. “There you are.” 

Ashley pushes open both sets of doors and shivers as warm air blasts down on her. “Thanks.” 

It’s a nice place, but not conspicuously nice. Ashley walks to the other side of the lobby and presses the button to call the elevator. She double-checks the number written on the keychain to the apartment key Hunnigan gave her and presses the third-floor button. She waits patiently with the phone still to her ear, shuffling her boots on the carpet as she tries to think of something to say. 

“Thanks for doing this.” Hunnigan saves her. 

“Of course.” Ashley smiles. “I never got a chance to say goodbye to him properly, or to say thanks to you. So, thank you.”  

“Let me know how he is when you get in,” she replies. “And if you need anything else. Even just a stern talking-to. I know how he is.” 

“Got it.” Ashley steps out of the elevator and salutes, wondering if the agent is watching over the security cameras. 

Hunnigan lets out a small chuckle. “Good luck in there, Agent.” And the line clicks. 

Ashley folds her brand-new phone and puts it in her pocket, striding down the hallway. 300, 301, 302... 

In the past week since the US Navy rescued them from the middle of the ocean, she’s tried to imagine what it would be like to become an agent like Leon. If she was as strong and capable as him, the nightmares might fade faster, though it’s a selfish reason to want what he has. 

Perhaps she could find a way to become Leon’s partner. They made a good team, and they’d make an even better one if she had his training. Ashley wonders what he must have been like before.  

Kind, she thinks, fidgeting with the key. He never lost that. 

Number 327. Ashley spots it before she has to read the number; there are grocery bags outside the door, untouched, just as Hunnigan described. Ashley’s heart lurches and she hurries over, fumbling with the key. She knocks firmly. “Leon?” She calls, already slotting the key into the lock and pushing open the door. There is no reply. “Leon?” Again, just in case, as she cautiously peeks inside.

The single-floor apartment is eerily dark and silent, neat and tidy as if prepared for a showing — apart from a pair of sneakers abandoned lopsided in the entryway. A couple of other pairs of shoes are tucked neatly on a small rack by the door. The only light filters in through the blinds drawn over the kitchen window on the other side of the space; the fading daylight is barely enough light at all. And it’s freezing in here.  

“Leon, are you there?” Ashley pulls the grocery bags inside and shuts the door, locking it behind her. She turns on the light. “It’s Ashley!” She takes off her boots and puts them aside, organizing his sneakers on the rack. 

“A-shley?” Leon’s voice drifts from the shadows of the open bedroom door, groggy and hoarse from disuse. 

Ashley races past the sofa and over to the bedroom door, peering around the frame at Leon’s silhouette spread out on the bed. The agent is fully dressed in a hoodie and jeans, a truly pathetic effort made of drawing the blanket over himself. He’s flat on his back, and she can hear him wheezing. Seeing him freezes her in place and makes her stomach flip as the blur of their return journey crashes over her. 

They were separated almost instantly, no time to say good-bye, no time to make sure he was alright before she was swept into the medical wing of the carrier, and he was flown off to god-knows where. Being dragged away by marines was almost as terrifying as the cultists. She had almost cried out for Leon in panic, almost begged not to be separated.  

No matter how many armed guards flanked the hallways, she never felt truly safe while the medical staff performed a barrage of tests. 

Her heart has been racing all the way here, but everything since returning to America has felt like limbo as she waits for Spain to come crashing down on her. Every time she looks in the mirror, she looks whole, as if nothing happened — except that something is off, and she can’t figure out what. Night after night, the dreams have been just as visceral as the bloody reality of Spain. 

Leon has been dumped here alone to suffer as thanks for his hard work. Ashley pads into the shadows and over to the bed, flashes of the battle against Saddler’s grotesquely mutated body popping into her brain as she tries to examine him in the darkness. Leon was covered in dirt and scratches when they ran through the crumbling island together, but he was running so fast she had to sprint to keep up. She remembers how solid and warm he felt while they were speeding across open ocean on the jet-ski, how tightly she clung to him as the wind whipped at their exposed bodies. 

Sometimes you just have to push through. 

“Hunnigan?” Leon whispers, out of breath though he doesn’t move at all as he looks up at her. His tired features come into focus as her eyes adjust to the darkness. 

Ashley waves the key and pockets it. “Uh-huh. She said you let yourself out of the hospital and came home. Then she said she couldn’t get ahold of you.” She can feel herself tightening as the stress of the past week starts to claw up her throat. She wants to scream at him for neglecting himself, and she wants to crawl into bed and beg for him to hold her. “How long have you been like this?”  

Leon laughs weakly. 

“How did you even get home?” Ashley pleads, swallowing her tears. She hasn’t cried since the castle, and she’s not about to burst into Leon’s house uninvited and have a breakdown in his bedroom. 

“Dunno. Just had to get out.” 

Ashley knows how that feels; it’s part of the reason she’s here. She stares at him, her emotions losing potency as she tries to make sense of what to do, waves of emotions breaking against each other. She decides that she doesn’t want to know exactly how long he’s been lying here. It doesn’t matter anyway; she’s here to help. “Okay, well I’m turning on the light and getting you another pillow," she declares, backing up toward the light switch and flicking it. 

“Ash no —” Leon winces and turns his head away from the light, squeezing his eyes shut and lifting his hand off the bed, but letting it flop back down. 

Ashley turns around and goes toward the cupboard just outside the room. She throws open the door and puts her hands on her hips, doing inventory on his linens. There are spare pillows at least, but she’ll need at least one for herself; no way is she leaving him like this. She takes the rest and a couple of folded blankets. 

By the time she makes it back to his bed, he’s blinking blearily at the ceiling, his eyes adjusting to the light. He looks awful, sickly pale and his eyes shadowed with fatigue. 

“Oh my god, your lips are so dry.” Ashley puts down the bundle and reaches out to help him sit up, guiding him upright with a hand on his shoulder. 

Leon frowns and swipes his tongue over them. He clutches his arms around his chest as she helps him. 

“Don’t lick them, that makes it worse.” Ashley chastises, tucking another couple of pillows behind his back. 

“What am I supposed to do then?” Leon grumbles through gritted teeth, heat rising in his cheeks. 

“Drink water.” Ashley stares down at him as she rummages in her bag. “Here, purse your lips.” She pulls the cap off her lip gloss. 

Leon glares suspiciously at the wand shining with gloss, but obeys, pressing out his lips. Ashley swipes the gloss over them, coating them generously and leaning back to admire the shimmer. The faint pink coloring makes them look especially kissable. Maybe after a few applications (and a few more liters of water) she’ll let herself think about it. 

“Suits you.” Ashley caps the gloss and pockets it, bending down to kiss his forehead instead. He looks so grumpy and miserable, so out of place in his own bed. “I’m getting you water and something to eat.” Ashley spreads the blanket over him and pulls it up to his stomach. 

“Ash-” 

“What do you want to eat?” She puts her hands on her hips and stares down at him. 

His eyes dart sideways. “D-do you know how to make pancakes?” 

Well, that was easier than expected. “Of course I do,” Ashley says triumphantly. “But I’m making you a scrambled egg on the side.” 

Leon waves his hand weakly. “Don’t tell Hunnigan...?” He tries hopefully. 

“I think she already figured it out.” Ashley pulls out her phone and heads for the bedroom door. “But I’m telling on you anyway. I won’t be long, don’t move!” 

“That’s the plan...” Leon sighs and closes his eyes, but she catches a faint smile on his glossed lips as she slips out of the room. 

-- 

The first thing Ashley does on her way back to the entryway is hunt for the thermostat and turn it on. She pulls out her phone and dials Hunnigan, clamping it between her ear and shoulder as she unpacks the groceries on the small dining table. 

Hunnigan picks up instantly. “Status?” 

“He’s alive,” Ashley reassures, putting some fresh fruit in the bowl beside the fridge and setting aside a banana. 

Hunnigan lets out a faint sigh of relief. “Do I need to have a word?” 

“Nah, I got it under control.” Ashley opens the cabinets and easily finds a big ceramic bowl among Leon’s well-organized equipment. “Hey... you wouldn’t have access to his medical records would you? I just want to make sure I take care of him properly.” 

“Sure, I have the report right here.” Hunnigan taps on the keyboard. “Broken ribs on both sides, severe bruising on the back, mild to moderate acid burns on the lower and upper arms. Looks like he was prescribed painkillers. If he’s misplaced them, call me and I’ll have more delivered. Other than that, just make sure he rests upright and takes deep breaths every hour. If his breathing sounds crackly, call the nearest hospital, then me.” 

Ashley nods along, putting on the apron hanging on a hook by the fridge. “I can manage that.” 

“Call or text me if he or you need anything.” Hunnigan reiterates. “I mean it.” 

Ashley holds the phone to her ear and stares at the flour; there is something she wants to ask, but she has a feeling she already knows the answer. And besides, Leon is within earshot. 

“Ashley?” 

Ashley shakes her head. “Thanks again. I’ll check in later.” She closes her phone and pockets it, measuring in the rest of the dry ingredients.  

It must be difficult to make friends with a job like this. When Leon isn’t on missions, does he have much of a personal life? Ashley looks around the apartment for clues, but if they’re here, they’re hidden away in cupboards and closets. This may not even be his main residence, if he has one. Ashley thinks back to how excitedly she’d suggested she take this path for herself, wondering if Leon was imagining his empty, featureless apartment and the lack of friends to take care of him so he can rest. 

Ashley sniffs and mixes in the wets. You have Hunnigan. And others too, I hope. But if not, now you have me. At least for as long as she can avoid the strings that come with being the President’s daughter. 

She turns on the stove and picks out a couple of pans, chopping fruit while they heat up and humming Avril Lavigne to herself. The sound of bubbling butter gently swelling under the knife chopping against the wooden cutting board pleasantly fills the silence. It’s the closest she’s come to feeling normal and at home since returning to America. A week is barely any time to recover from the near-death experience, but right now the memories she wants most to repress are of the endless tests. 

Worst of all, the whole ordeal is strictly classified. She hasn’t considered if talking to a therapist is even possible. Ashley isn’t sure she’d want to talk to one anyway. Not yet — not until she gets her thoughts together. 

Just being near Leon is a relief — he saw everything that she did, possibly even worse while they were separated. So, no need to try to explain or describe the horrors. They can just stew in them together, and that brings a sense of peace that unwinds the tension and makes her feel safe, even though she doubts that Leon can even stand up, let alone fight to protect her. 

There's no need for that, not right now. Ashley plates up two servings of pancakes, decorating them with fruit and syrup. There are no serving trays, but she finds a cookie sheet and puts everything on that instead; two plates of pancakes, two tall glasses of water, cutlery, and a bowl of scrambled eggs. 

By now, the furnace and the hot stove have warmed the apartment to a comfortable temperature. Leon has folded the blanket off himself and is struggling to remove his sweater without lifting his arms or sitting up. It appears to be going badly. 

Hopeless. Ashley rests the tray on his nightstand and comes over to help, tugging the sweater over his head and forward, sliding it off his arms so he doesn't have to lift them. It makes a mess of his hair. She combs out the tangles with her fingers and smooths it down. His arms are dotted with gauze bandages covering his burns, and she can only imagine the bruising hiding under his grey t-shirt. 

“I had it,” he grumbles. 

“Mm hm.” Ashley tosses the hoodie into the laundry basket it the corner. “You need a bath.” She’s willing to bet he hasn’t washed since before the mission. His hair was soft throughout, but it’s limp and greasy now. Ashley looks over at the door to an en-suite, spotting the rim of a bathtub through the crack. 

“Do I get to eat first?” 

Ashley pouts at him. “You’re such a grumpy goose.” 

“I am not.” He pouts back at her, the gloss still shimmering on his lips. 

She wants to squish his pout with her hands and make his lips push out. There’s no nearby danger to distract her from picturing it. “You’re a grumpy, grumpy goose.” She carries over the tray and sits beside him on the bed. “Do you have painkillers? Hunnigan said you were prescribed some.” 

Leon reaches under the blanket and into the pocket of his jeans, handing her an orange bottle of pills. 

Ashley reads the label. "When did you last take them?” 

“Soon as I got home,” he mumbles. 

Well, that’s better than she expected but still very overdue. Ashley tips two into her palm and hands them over with the glass of water. Leon swallows the pills without hesitation or complaint and washes them down with a few thirsty gulps. The gloss leaves a smudge on the glass when he finally puts it down. Ashley exchanges it for his food. 

He’s still scowling, but it’s slowly unwinding as he eats with growing urgency — as much urgency as he can manage. 

Ashley finishes first and gets up to prepare the shower so he can struggle through his meal without an audience. She goes to get the step stool she saw tucked in the bottom of a cabinet in the kitchen and brings it to the en-suite, flicking on the light. 

She can imagine Leon soaking in the tub, buried to the chin under luxurious mounds of bubbles, his face damp and pink with hot steam.  

Getting in and out of a bath might kill him, but he should be able to manage sitting under the shower. He can wash much easier that way. Or I could help, you know, if you’d let me... Ashley sulks, putting the stool in the tub to make sure it fits. She would behave herself, no touches or stares where they weren’t wanted. Doesn’t she know how that feels... 

Aw geez, he won’t be able to undress himself... She has to be professional. Ashley takes a deep breath and tries not to think too hard about her little fantasies, taking a folded towel out of the cabinet. She comes back into the room, hoping her face isn’t too red. 

“All done?” she asks, piling the empty dishes onto the tray and giving him the glass. 

Leon nods, obediently draining the rest of the water and leaning back with a sigh. “Yeah, thanks. Just what I needed.” 

“Better than snake?”. 

Leon groans. “Don’t remind me.” 

“Such a gentleman, leaving me the egg.” She giggles. 

“Too bad I was all out of fish. Those weren’t so bad. Didn’t fit in my pockets that great though.” 

“So much for trying the local cuisine.” Ashley puts the tray of dishes out of the way. “Feel up for that shower? You’ll feel better, I promise.” 

“Can’t get these wet.” Leon raises his arms weakly. 

“I’ll turn the stream down low, and you just sit under it. I’ll change them for you after. You have supplies?” 

“In the kitchen,” he nods, grabbing the hem of his shirt and carefully lifting it. Ashley hurries over to help, and he hesitates, glancing up at her with apprehension. He stops to catch his breath, and she can hear how much it hurts.  

“Slow,” she encourages patiently. “Let go, and I’ll get it off for you.” 

He maintains his grip. “Don’t feel bad,” he murmurs. “Looks bad.” 

“I’ll feel worse if you hurt yourself because you wouldn't let me help you.” She tries not to sound as stern as it comes out; why should he care about himself if nobody else seems to? That’s okay, I’ll remind you. It must be hard, remembering to ask for help when there usually isn’t any around. And for someone as strong and capable as Leon? 

Reluctantly, he grits his teeth and loosens his hands, letting them slide to his sides so she can lift his shirt. Ashley braces herself. 

Ashley pulls his shirt up and over his head, using the time when his face is obscured to get her expression under control. She props him forward just enough to get the shirt over his head, catching a glimpse of the wall of bruising covering his back. The bruises mark his vertebrae and ribs with especially prominent color. It looks much worse than she imagined. The bruises wrap around his sides like a monster’s claws — any of the monsters they ran into would do. 

It's hard not to feel bad. 

Bet you didn’t expect to save the world when you came to rescue me, did you. Ashley bites her lip and moves with extra caution, throwing his shirt into the growing pile of laundry. Leon looks at her almost immediately. 

“See?” he declares. 

“’See’ what?” she demands. “That you're hurt? Duh. You moan like my grandma.” 

“Do you call her a grumpy goose too?” Leon grumbles, gesturing vaguely at his jeans. “You’re mean. I’m not helping.” 

“You barely were. Grumpy goose.” Ashley retorts playfully, folding the blanket off his legs and undoing his jeans. She slides them off along with his socks. His legs aren't in nearly as bad shape, but dotted with a few bruises nonetheless. That just leaves his underwear. Ashley spreads the towel over his waist. “Can I?” she looks up at him for permission. 

Leon stares at her, flushing faintly. He waves his hand. “Can’t shower with’em on.” 

Ashley reaches under the towel and tugs them off too. 

She wishes she could carry him. He wouldn’t like it, but he can barely move without running out of air. Getting to the bathroom is going to be an ordeal. Ashley takes extra care sliding her arm under his shoulders, gently lifting him sitting. She grabs his knees and turns him slowly around so he can put his feet on the floor. Leon keeps both arms braced around his ribs, shuddering out short breaths. 

“Stand up slow. I’ve got the towel, okay?” she says quietly. “We’re a team.” 

Still recovering, the best he can do is nod. Leon takes a few more deep breaths and gathers his legs under him. Ashley props herself against his and carefully wraps the towel around his waist, tucking in the edge at his hip. She takes her time, and it gives him the chance he needs to recover again. 

Now that Leon is upright (albeit hunched and pressed against her), he can walk slow. Something pops and she resists the urge to joke about her grandmother again. 

Every suffering breath ruffles her hair. Ashley focuses on keeping steady and matching his pace. It’s a brutal thanks for saving the world. Ashley wished more than anything that she’d bartered for more herbs from the Merchant while she had the chance, or traded her token for that gun and tried to pick away at the bugs swarming Leon while he was fighting Saddler. There’s a long strip of gauze taped over his collarbone, right above where the vest covered, no doubt concealing a gash from a bug. 

“Toilet,” Leon grunts as they cross the threshold. 

“I’ll give you a minute,” Ashley agrees. 

-- 

While the shower runs, Ashley strips the bed and loads up the laundry machine, trying not to stare through the bathroom door resting half open. She only strays from the bedroom to load the dishes into the dishwasher, hurrying back to make the bed. 

Steam wafts out of the bathroom. Ashley takes off her dark blue sweater and hangs it on the dresser door. She gathers fresh sheets from the laundry cupboard and makes Leon’s bed, taking her time over it. 

The chore is perfectly mundane, a luxury the President’s daughter hasn’t enjoyed much of for a few years now, not without Secret Service agents lingering nearby. They don’t make for good company.  

“Ashley...?” Leon’s voice drifts from the bathroom. 

“Coming!” Ashley drops the last pillow onto the stack and runs over to the bathroom. She peers carefully around the door to make sure the towel is still in place before entering. 

Seeing Leon huddled on that stool under the stream reminds her of a shelter dog at the groomer’s, hunched with pain and weary to the ills of the world. He coughs, unable to hide how much it hurts as his face scrunches with pain and he grabs his chest. Ashley comes closer, opening her mouth to ask, but he thrusts the washcloth at her and looks away, mumbling something to the effect of ‘help’. 

The ‘please’ that follows is slightly more audible. Ashley smiles. 

There are a few soapy streaks on his chest. She doubts he managed to reach much else. Ashley chooses a papaya-scented body wash from his assortment and lathers some into the cloth. 

“You tell me if it hurts,” she says, angling the shower head out of her way and sitting on the rim of the tub.  

“Everything hurts,” he grumbles. 

“You know what I mean.” She rolls her eyes and dabs her way down his spine. His arms tighten around his body, and his breath hitches. Ashley watches him carefully as she circles down his body as gently as she can. 

Her clothes are getting wet, but she doesn’t mind. Leon is mostly quiet, trying to breathe deeply and evenly as Ashley washes him down. She spends as little time as possible on his ribs, moving on to the less bruised parts. She lifts his arms only far enough to get the cloth under it and scrub his armpits, lathering in more soap. The steam seems to be helping, loosening up his breathing. Ashley pauses only to let him finish a cough she can almost hear rattling his rib cage. 

She was prepared to be efficient, but he seems content, eyes sliding closed. Ashley gives his front and legs a once-over too. 

The scars are harder to see through the water and bruises, but it’s obvious that his body has been through hard times. Ashley washes over them tenderly. The one that stands out the most is on his shoulder, thick and messy, with a smaller companion wound on his back — a bullet, Ashley would guess. 

What about you? 

I’ll do my job. 

He’s done his job before, it would seem, and at his own expense. It hurts her heart to see him like this, covered in evidence of jobs survived, and currently suffering from the most recent one. But as long as there are people like Saddler, there will be a need for people like Leon, so she may as well be grateful. 

The world won’t thank you for what you did, but I will. 

Ashley scrubs around Leon’s neck and behind his ears. She gives his face a gentle wipe, and he shuts his eyes. She douses him with water to wash soap from his face, then she reaches for his shampoo. 

Now this is a man who washes himself properly. Ashley remembers the intrusive thought that popped into her head during a rare quiet moment escaping the village. Seeing the arsenal of products gives her hope that he takes care of himself at least some of the time. Ashley squirts shampoo on his head and digs her fingers into his roots, lathering the soap and massaging it into his scalp. 

Leon melts, as much as his injuries allow. Ashley ignores the water soaking into her shirt and digs into his head, smiling to herself as he lets out a sigh of pleasure. It’s not quite mission accomplished, but getting there. Ashley directs the shower head back onto Leon and angles it at his head. The stream washes away all the soap, filling the room with a fruity scent. Ashley shuts off the water and drops a dry towel over Leon’s head, rubbing gently. 

“Do what you can, I’ll make us a bedtime drink.” Ashley puts the towel into his hands and goes to explore his cabinets. 

In a few minutes, she has two cups of steamed milk waiting for them on the dresser. Returning to the bathroom, Leon is patting his chest very carefully with the towel. The rest of him is still wet. 

“Sorry...” he holds out the towel for her, averting his eyes. “Can’t reach...” 

“Don’t be sorry.” Ashley takes the towel and starts to pat down his shoulders and back. “I said I’d help.” 

Leon takes a couple labored breaths and makes a vague gesture at his body. “This... takes a while. I’ll be like... like this for a while.” 

“So if I leave, you’ll go back to wasting away in bed and catch pneumonia?” 

“N-no...” Leon scrunches his face. “I meant... I just want you to know what you’re getting into.” 

“I’m sure I can handle it.” Ashley reassures. “I’ve handles worse.” 

That earns her a weak huff that’s almost a laugh. “I’m not much company.” 

Ashley shrugs. “That’s your opinion. I happen to disagree. So long as you’re okay with my company, I’m happy with yours, for as long as you’ll have me.” 

“That’d be... nice.” 

Ashley smiles in agreement. 

It takes a bit of juggling of the towel, but together they manage to get Leon dressed in clean underwear and some pajama pants. Ashley unpacks her bag, and they brush their teeth side-by-side. Leon digs around in his drawers and hands her a comb with a bashful look, and Ashley combs out his hair. It’s soft and fluffy and his eyes have brightened, making him look much livelier than the corpse of earlier. Though his breathing is still sharp and uneven, it’s improved. 

Ashley gets him back into bed, helping him to sit, turn around, and lie back against the stack of pillows. She sits beside him to peel off his dampened dressings, clean his wounds, and dress them again. Leon shuts his eyes and hisses as the cleaning solution stings, but he doesn’t say anything. Lastly, she takes the thermometer out of the kit and puts it in his mouth. 

“Hm, too warm,” Ashley inspects the number and puts the thermometer on the nightstand. “But it’s probably just the shower. I’ll take it again tomorrow.” She hands him his milk. 

“You’re on top of it,” he mumbles drowsily, sipping from the mug. “Mm. What’s in this?” 

“Vanilla. I found some in your cupboards. You have a lot of stuff in there.” 

“I’ll cook for you when I feel better.” 

That sounds nice. Judging by the supplies he keeps stocked, he seems like a competent cook. “How do you feel?” 

“Like a dump truck ran me over, but otherwise pretty great.” 

Ashley sighs fondly. “I was hoping for a bit more detail. Does your breathing feel wet?” 

“Can’t really tell,” he admits. “Doesn’t feel like an infection. Broken ribs before. I know what to look for. I’ll tell you if something feels off.” 

“Good.” She’ll take his word for it. “You’d better do those breaths. Are you comfortable?” 

Leon nods and grimaces, handing her his empty mug and bracing his chest with both arms as he begins to slowly inhale. Ashley gets up to bring him a folded sheet, laying it over his chest as a brace.  

It must be an agonizing couple of minutes as Leon forces himself through the pain and braves through more cycles than he clearly wants to. There’s nothing she can do to help but slide her hands into his and let him squeeze.  

She wants to kiss him so bad. Her crush felt magical in that ridiculous castle, but it feels visceral here in his bedroom. He finishes his breaths, and she slips her hands free, reaching up to brush his bangs aside and admire his face. He’s looking back at her wearily, a bit of steamy pink lingering in his cheeks. 

“You can... if you want...” Leon murmurs. 

That permission is all she needs. Ashley doesn’t hesitate, cupping his face and kissing him on the lips. He doesn’t have the breath to reciprocate much, but he opens his mouth so she can enjoy the taste of his full bottom lip. Ashley keeps it short, pulling away slowly and pressing another much firmer kiss into his forehead. Perhaps now, the message is clear. 

“Get some sleep,” she whispers. “I’ll be on the sofa if you need something.” 

“Thanks, Ash...” Leon’s eyes are already sliding closed, as if he can’t force them open any longer. 

“Don’t mention it.” She smiles. 

-- 

Ashley makes herself a bed on Leon’s sofa, stripping out of her wet clothes and putting on a spare outfit from his closet. The pajama pants fit alright at the hips, though she has to cuff the bottoms. The t-shirt is too big, but perfectly comfortable to sleep in. It smells like his detergent, with a hint of coffee. 

There is no scent of gunpowder or blood, nothing to interrupt the sense of domesticity. Ashley leaves on the stovetop light and shuts off the rest, curling up on the sofa under a spare duvet and breathing in Leon’s scent. A car passes by on the street below, and the furnace creaks, filling in space with the noises of home. Ashley shuts her eyes and listens to Leon’s raspy mouth-breathing, her own breathing slowing along with his. 

If he can rest, there is no danger, and so she drifts easily off to sleep. 

No such logic carries over to her nightmares, however. Ashley remembers the feeling of becoming a passenger in her own body all too well, her control subsumed by black tendrils hungry for blood. She already knows what Leon’s knife feels like in her hand, and it’s not hard to imagine killing with it — the parasite wanted her to sink it into his flesh, push it through bone and muscle and end him. 

Leon is too worried about her to respond in time, blocking a second too late. She sinks the blade into his chest with strength that isn’t her own, piercing his heart with a spurt of blood. The force travels up her arm, and he stares at her wide-eyed in disbelief. He opens his mouth, but all he manages is a bloody gurgle before Ashley rips out the knife and thrusts it upwards into his throat. She leaves it in and he staggers backwards, choking and squirting blood all over her. Leon collapses, dying in slow agony as the blood spreads across the stone. 

Her vision is going black, her hands are soaked and sticky, and Leon is still making horrible coughing noises. 

Ashley stares into the shadows of the apartment as she realizes she’s already awake. It’s still pitch black, the wetness on her hands is sweat from clenching them, and the coughing — 

Leon is hacking up his lungs in the other room. Ashley untangles herself from the duvet and scrambles off the sofa, racing to the bedroom while her heart continues to pound in her ears. 

Her eyes adjust to the darkness as she enters the room. His body is curled off the pillows, muscles involuntarily tight and his arms squeezing his chest as he tries to protect himself against the pain. Ashley hurries to his bedside, holding onto his shoulder. 

Leon jumps the moment she makes contact, gasping in surprise and new pain as he lurches away from her. Ashley lets go with a jolt but hangs close so he can take her in. 

“Ashley?” he splutters. 

She nods nervously, reaching out slowly again. 

“S-sorry,” he whispers, interrupted by another painful cough. “S-sorry, I... I forgot where I was.” 

“It's alright,” she breathes, touching again. 

Leon hacks up another cough, and Ashley adjusts the folded sheet over his ribs, adding her gentle pressure. 

He’s alive, in one piece aside from the broken ribs. The dark splotches on his body are just shadows, not blood. He’s safe. Ashley slumps onto the bed beside him. 

“Ash...?” Leon is frowning up at her, taking her hand and rubbing his thumb into it. His hands are clammy too. “You’re cryin’.” 

Ashley rubs at the damp tracks on her cheeks self-consciously. It was all going so well... 

“Bad dreams?” he asks softly. 

She nods. “Sorry... I didn’t wake you, did I?” 

“Nah. Did I wake you?” 

She isn’t sure, but she shakes her head. “You okay?” 

“Bad dreams too,” he admits. “Gave myself a start, that’s all.” He slides his fingers against her wrist to feel her pulse. It hasn’t slowed down at all. “C’mon. Bed’s big enough.” 

“Leon...” Ashley sniffs. That does sound nice. “Let me get you some water first. Are you sure —?” 

Leon grips her hand a bit tighter and hangs on, shaking his head. “You can dote on me again tomorrow. Nest’s big enough.” 

There is room... Ashley can’t help but laugh weakly as she scrubs away the tear tracks. Leon flips up the edge of the blanket. Ashley carefully crawls over him and wraps the blanket around herself, shuffling into the space beside him. Leon winces and wraps his arm around her, drawing her even closer with what little strength he can muster, so she huddles into his side. 

This is much better than the sofa. Ashley rests up against his pillows and tucks her head against his shoulder. “Can I hold you?” she whispers. 

“Uh-huh. Can I hold you?” 

“Yeah...” Ashley carefully drapes her arm over his chest beside his, and he wraps his closer arm around her waist. “That good?” 

“Yeah.” Leon squeezes her a bit. “Too tight?” 

“Perfect.” Ashley sighs, enjoying the pressure around her. “I’m right here, okay?” 

“Me too,” Leon murmurs into her hair, making one last adjustment before settling. 

His breathing evens out again, and so does hers. Ashley stares at the curve of his chest and listens to his heartbeat as she waits for hers to stop thumping. Peace settles over them, and this time, it perseveres.