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The apartment was dark and messy – only lit by the city lights that filtered weakly through the blinds and the dim flickering light of the TV screen.
Leon sat slouched against his couch, one hand wrapped around the neck of a half empty whiskey bottle – His feet resting against the coffee table before him. The room was only filled by the mutters of a late-night TV program he had stopped paying mind to for the last hour. Maybe longer. Time blurred easier this way.
A glass with melted ice remained abandoned on the coffee table — He had decided it was useless after the third re-fill.
He shook the bottle a little before taking another sip. The golden liquid burnt the way down his throat. It should've helped — It didn't.
Whatever happened in a mission stays in the mission. Spain should've stayed in Spain. — That's what he told himself. That's what everyone at work told him. —
Write a report, compartimentalize, move on and forget. It was mechanical, a routine.
But everytime he closed his eyes, all he could see was a red dress and smell the scent of cigarrettes. Only one name came to his mind whenever those memories flashed before him;
Ada.
His jaw tightened at the single memory of her name. He let out a frustrated groan before leaning in, his shoes thudded against the floor, his elbows rested on his knees as he took another swing of the bourbon and set the bottle on the coffee table beside three others. The sight alone made him let out a dry chuckle.
— "Pathetic." — He muttered under his breath.
He glanced over his watch — 1:24AM.
And somehow, this time it wasn't the nightmares keeping him away, or the flashbacks of Racoon City. It wasn't the sound of gunshots and the villagers shouts as they attacked him through thick smoke.
It was Luis.
It was the way he leaned too close to her. The way Luis had wrapped his arm around her waist. The way he understood things about her that Leon still couldn't. For seeing a side of her that he never got to even aknowledge.
He hated himself a little for how much it got to him.
He sighed. Another drink. He set the bottle down harsher this once and looked up at the TV again. The room tilted slightly this time around.
He dragged a tired hand down his face before letting his head fall back against the couch cushions. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the quiet filled the apartment. The later it got the heavier the silence would press around him. — It was suffocating — Or maybe it was the alcohol. He could no longer tell.
Surrounded by the dim light that crept through the window, empty bottles and a gun inside a holster that he tossed on the other end of the couch when he settled there.
And through the haze of alcohol that clouded his thoughts, at the very center of his mind sat on one miserable truth that he couldn't drown away no matter how hard he tried.
Ada had left again.
And he had allowed it to happen.
"Separate ways." He muttered with a voice laced on irony. Those were his words. The knowledge alone made his mouth taste bitter.
His head perked up when a faint noise broke the silence; a window sliding open. Though he barely reacted at first, blaming it on the TV and the alcohol overall, he lived in a 4th floor.
The sound was only followed by the familiar click of high heels before her silhouette appeared from the darkness of the hallway, her brown eyes scanned the room subtly, scanned him.
— "...You look terrible." — Ada said softly, her voice carried the slightest hint of surprise.
He only let out a scoff and leaned his head back again, though he didn't quite close his eyes. "Thought spies were supposed to be stealthier than that." He replied in a sarcastic voice.
Ada ignored his comment and instead stepped further into the apartment, her gaze barely wandering over the space; tactical gear tossed on a corner, a gun holster on the couch, then the coffee table and the discarded bottles of bourbon and beer. — Some emotion crept into her expression for a second, not enough to be readable for Leon, but it was certain that something different flickered in her eyes.
She crouched beside the coffee table and started pushing the alcohol away from his reach.
The faint sound of the clicking glass against the table made him finally lift his head and look at her. Black raincoat, high heels, no gloves. And her face? She had the same composed expression he knew far too well. The one she wore like an armor — It hit him harder than the alcohol had done in the past hour.
"You shouldn't be here." He muttered, though his words carried a slightly softer tone.
She didn't glance back at him for a moment. "And yet I am." She replied after a beat, then closed the last open bottle that still kept a hint of whiskey inside. "You planning on drinking all of Seattle's alcohol supply tonight?" Her question came with a hint of humor.
Leon let out a tired laugh and glanced briefly towards the bottles. "Working on it." The words rolled off his tongue lacking his usual tone.
"I can see that." — She added as she glanced at him.
There was a beat of silence before he spoke again; "Thought you'd be gone by now." the words left his mouth bitterly.
Ada raised an eyebrow at that, something shifted for a second. "Disappointed?" She asked.
For a second, Leon was quiet. She noticed. "Wouldn't be the first time." He replied humourlessly.
He looked smaller, somehow. Not physically, he still filled the couch the same way he had for the past 15 minutes she was there. But his sharpness was gone.
And the tension he carried on his shoulders — Like the weight of the world relied on him — the same way he had on every mission, wasn't there tonight. Neither was the stubborn confidence he hid behind whenever she appeared.
She stood again, moving toward the couch before sitting beside him carefully. Close enough that her perfume reached him, sweet, familiar. Dangerous.
The city lights caught beneath his eyes, dark circles painted the lower part of his eyes. Tiredness. Weeks worth of it, maybe months. For a moment he didn't look like a government agent.
"Bad night?" She finally asked, her hands folded neathly over her lap as she glanced at him again.
His gaze had drifted to the TV again.
"Bad month." He replied then, letting out a tired sigh before leaning back into the couch again. "Spain?" Ada asked then, slightly turning to look at him, meeting his side profile. She leaned her cheek against the couch cushions and waited for an answer. There was a long beat of silence before;
"Something like that." Was all the answer that she got.
"You look tired." She commented then. Leon laughed at that, genuine somehow.
"You came all this way just to tell me I look terrible?" He asked then, finally turning to look at her, a smile tugged the corner of his lips for a moment.
"Somebody had to." She said, then chuckled softly.
For a moment, they stared at each other's eyes. Silence did no longer feel suffocating.
Leon blinked slowly, once, twice... his eyelids suddenly felt slightly heavy, he turned to look at the TV before he lost focus halfway there.
Ada noticed the slowed blinking — Of course she did. — Leon's gaze focused back on her.
"You should get some sleep." She suggested. Leon let out a dry laugh. "Tried that." His usual humor seemed to be back. "And?" — "Didn't work." Leon replied.
Her gaze drifted towards the bottles on the coffee table, at least 6 were empty, another one was half-empty. "I'm shocked." She said as a smile tugged on her lips, and her eyes traced the way back to Leon's face.
"Nightmares?" — She asked, because it was obvious. Racoon City. Spain. A ton of other missions. It made sense. She shifted on the couch, crossed her legs at the ankle.
"Not this time." Leon replied. That made her pause, there was a second of silence only broken by the mutter of some commercial on the TV.
"Then what's keeping you awake?" She asked finally. Leon didn't answer immediately, his gaze drifted away again, to the window, then to the TV, then at nothing...
For a while, neither of them spoke. Then Leon laughed, not because he thought something was funny, but because he was tired.
"Do you ever think about him?" His voice was firm, but his gaze remained lost, staring at nothing.
She frowned. "Who?"
He swallowed, shifted on the couch. "Luis." The name lingered in the room for longer than it should've. Longer than either of them expected.
She stayed quiet. He regretted asking in the first place.
After a moment, he let out a humorless laugh and rubbed his eyes with one hand. "Forget it." He finally said, his hand dragged across his own face, his eyes didn't met hers again. Instead, he tried to busy himself on whatever TV show was on at the moment.
"Leon." She insisted. He exhaled sharply through his nose.
"No, really, it doesn’t matter." He muttered. It obviously mattered, more than he'd admit. The lie landed plainly between them.
Ada waited, watched his profile, tired eyes, tense jaw, the silence flooded the room again.
Eventually, he spoke again; "You trusted him," The words came out quieter than he intended, more sincere than he let on. "He knew things about you." His gaze remained elsewhere, finally settling on the TV.
"We worked together." Ada stated, her voice remained calm, simple, true. But it didn't ignite any different reaction from Leon. She stayed quiet, didn't interrupt, didn't deny either.
Outside, headlights drifted across the ceiling for a brief moment before disappearing again.
Leon scoffed, like he tried to chuckle and failed to do so. "I spent years trying to figure you out," He started, there was a second of quiet, his jaw tightened.
"And somehow he knew your for five minutes and got further than I ever did."
Those words hung between them. The confession came out far too raw, landed embarassing. But his tone was honest. And for the first time that night, Leon wished he was sober enough to keep his mouth shut.
He looked away, focused on the window, on the wall, anywhere else.
Then came a soft rustle of fabric, Ada shifted. Not away. Closer. Just enough for their shoulders to brush — Leon froze.
"You're an idiot." The words should've sounded harsher. Instead they came out soft, something almost fond beneath them.
His lips twitched. "That's not exactly reassuring."
A smile tugged on Ada's lips. "No?" She tilted her head slightly, those brown knowing eyes wandered over him the same way they did in the boat back in Spain. "You think Luis knew me better than you because he worked a few days with me?" She asked then.
Leon opened his mouth, thought for a second, closed it. He cussed internally, the alcohol wasn't making building a defensa any easier.
Ada watched him struggle for a second to answer before shaking her head. "Definetly an idiot." And for the first time that night, Leon laughed genuinely. Quiet, short, but real.
He looked back at her. "You make it sound simple." his voice came out more relaxed, smooth.
"It is simple." She said. Then pressed her hands over the edge of the couch and leaned in, glancing at Leon's blue eyes. "Luis wasn't you." There was a silence between them, the TV light flickered between them.
The warmth of Ada's shoulder lingered against his, comfortable, soft. It had been long since the alcohol blurried the edges of Leon's thoughts, his eyelids felt heavier with every minute.
He leaned back against the couch cushions, his shoulder remained close to hers. Neither of them said a word.
Outside, the lights of the city lights flickered across the room and faded again, the apartment grew quiet. He didn't check the time this once, he didn't want it to pass by.
He rubbed his hand over his eyes, God he was tired. After a moment, he tilted his head towards her, not enough to rest on her, just... close enough to part the distance.
Ada glanced sideways. "You falling asleep on me, Kennedy?"
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'm literally sitting up." he replied in a soft mutter.
"Barely." — That earned another tired laugh from him, his eyes closed for a moment. Just a minute. When they opened again, Ada was still there. Still beside him. Still letting their shoulders touch.
The realization settled somewhere warm inside his chest. Before he could stop himself, his head finally lowered resting lightly against her shoulder. — Testing her.
Waiting for her to push him away.
She didn't.
Leon released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The tension started to ease from his body little by little.
Like a rope finally coming loose after being pulled too tight for too long. The conversation faded after that.
Neither of them seemed interested in filling the silence anymore. The television became background noise and the city outside continued moving without them.
At some point, Ada felt the weight against her shoulder grow heavier. She looked down, Leon had fallen quiet. One of his arms draped loosely across his stomach, his eyes were half-closed.
His breathing was slower now. The sharp edges under his eyes, the ones he'd carried all evening had finally softened.
For a moment, she simply watched him. Then, without really thinking about it, her hand lifted and her fingers threaded into his hair. Leon stilled. — Not asleep after all. — The corner of Ada's mouth twitched. Thought so.
A low sound of protest escaped him. Something halfway between a groan and a complaint but neither at the same time. She almost laughed. Almost.
Minutes passed, maybe longer. Eventually his head slipped lower. From her shoulder to the space beneath it, until he was resting against her chest. She sighed. "Leon." Her voice came out soft, there was no response aside from the faint rise and fall of his breathing.
And the unmistakable scent of whiskey. She wrinkled her nose. "You smell terrible." She muttered. A sleepy noise answered her. Entirely unhelpful.
Her hand remained in his hair anyway. — She told herself she'd leave, in five minutes. Maybe ten... then twenty.
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The sunrays crept in through the blinds, painting golden streaks across the floor and the ceiling. The first thing he felt was pain. The dull ache of hangover throbbing behind his eyes and on his skull. His mouth tasted like whiskey, his neck hurt... so did his back, his whole body felt like it lost a fight against a giant all over again.
He groaned and shut his eyes again, the movement alone made his headache worse. For a long moment he remained still, hoping death, god or whatever upper force was there would take pity on him. Didn't work.
Slowly but surely, his awareness returned. The television had turned itself off sometime around the night, the apartment was as quiet as ever. But then he frowned, something was... off. Warm. Suddenly he became very aware of a steady rise and fall beneath his cheek.
His brow remained furrowed. — As far as he concerned, up until last night, his couch didn't breathe. — His eyes opened, for a second, he simply stared at the dark fabric beneath him. Then his gaze traveled upward. A black sleeve, an oddly familiar coat. Dark short hair spilling over the couch cushion and eyes closed in sleep. Ada. Leon froze completely.
His hangover suddenly became the second most important problem he had. Very carefully, Leon lifted his head, the movement made his skull throb immediately. He ignored it.
Ada remained asleep, one arm was still loosely draped around his shoulders. Sometime during the night, she'd apparently fallen asleep too.
The realization hit harder than the hangover and the headache. — She stayed.
For a moment, Leon simply looked at her. Without her usual smirk, without her practiced confidence. — Without the walls she always kept carefully in place. — She looked peaceful, human. Real.
His chest tightened unexpectedly. Then Ada shifted slightly, one of her eyes cracked open.
There was a long pause where neither of them moved or spoke. Finally, Ada looked down at him. "...Comfortable?"
Leon blinked. "Maybe."
Ada smiled, looked down at him and a small stain on her jacket, right where Leon had just been asleep. "You drool."
"I do not." — He argued back.
— "You do."
His expression immediately soured. Ada's lips twitched upward, barely. The closest thing to a smile.
And somehow, despite the headache threatening to split his skull open, Leon found himself smiling too.
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