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The significance of the date finally dawns on him the third time his restless fingers decide to arbitrarily check his newly-acquired burner phone for no reason other than nervous habit.
December 31st. New Year’s Eve.
Leon sighs. Time seems to pass in a blur lately, a neverending whirlwind, powerful and unstoppable, leaving him barely holding on for dear life. He sees little point in keeping track these days, not when every day feels the same as the last, the same dull, uninspired routine. The constant, merciless grind.
In fact, he can’t even remember the last time he had a proper, uninterrupted break. To him, that has become a sort of fantasy, an unattainable privilege, especially now that the U.S. government seems to have completely abandoned the illusion that they give a damn about his boundaries. Each time he asks for leave, it invariably ends with him being dragged from his vacation, dumped on a plane and shipped off to some godforsaken place to fight battles he’s grown weary of.
Leon has always considered himself a man of duty, but even the most dutiful men have their limits, and it appears he has reached his.
If they won’t respect his private time, then he’ll just have to create his own, by force if necessary.
Which brings him back to why he’s in this foreign city, all by himself, armed with nothing but the barest essentials, a modest lodging, and a primitive burner that feels oddly heavy in his pocket.
Warsaw is glowing this time of year, brimming with a barely-contained thrum of activity. It seems like a contradiction, seeking out a bustling capital in the middle of Europe for some quiet alone time, but there’s something strangely comforting about being on another continent, in a place that holds no history for him, where he’s just another nameless face in a sea of countless others.
Apparently, Leon had lost himself in the comfort a little too much, because before he knew it, December was coming to a close, and with it, a new year is fast approaching.
New Year’s Eve. A day like any other, were it not for the importance ascribed to it by a man-made calendar. Disinterested as he is, Leon can see the appeal of it. The thrill of anticipation that comes with the promise of a new beginning, and with it, a clean slate. The start of something better, hopefully.
It’s a frivolous, irrational thought, but standing on the Vistula Boulevard, surrounded by an atmosphere that can only be described as pure revelry, Leon can’t help but feel a bit hopeful, despite himself. After all, in the relentless, inexorable flow of time, it feels good to have something to look forward to, no matter how silly it may seem.
(Though if there’s one thing he wishes the festivities would do away with, it’s the damn fireworks. But that’s a tangled thread he doesn’t feel like unraveling right now.)
A gust of wind picks up, sweeping the last of the autumn leaves up into a twirling dance. It whips at his cheek, far too biting for comfort, and for the first time, Leon regrets not wearing a scarf. He turns away from the cold, wondering if he should head someplace less windy, when his entire world suddenly stops.
Tilts on its axis.
Then rights itself again.
There she is, leaning against the railing overlooking the river, looking every bit as striking as he remembers, and more normal than he’s ever seen her. Bundled in a beige jacket and gray wool hat, she could almost blend in perfectly with the constant flow of bustling passersby, were it not for the scarf snugly wrapped around her neck.
A splash of vibrant red against the dull gray of the winter evening.
Ada.
He must’ve said her name aloud, because she turns to him, her gaze somehow unsurprised, like the fact that they’ve just run into each other in this great city of all places is the most normal thing in the world, just another pattern in their unconventional arrangement.
“Leon,” Ada says by way of greeting, and her red lips quirk into a familiar half-smile. He imagines that to any other man it must look alluring, captivating even. An invitation to come just a little closer, a wordless promise of a peek at what’s underneath that mask she wears so effortlessly. But Leon knows better. It’s a warning, one he knows all too well. It’s meant to ward him off, a reminder to tread carefully by their established boundaries.
That’s fine, he thinks, swallowing down the unexpectedly bitter lump in his throat. He could do that. Play his part in this rehearsed performance: comfortable, familiar, repetitive. A safety net to fall back on, when the alternative seems too terrifying to even consider.
“Of all the places in the world,” he shakes his head, smiling to no one but himself. “You sure know how to keep a man on his toes.”
She leans back, regarding him thoughtfully. “Thought you’d have come to expect it by now.”
Leon shrugs. “I never know what to expect when it comes to you.”
Ada’s eyes twinkle mischievously. “You’ve been out of touch then.”
“Clearly,” he says. “Never would’ve thought a city like this was your scene.”
She turns to gaze out at the river, the wind softly blowing her hair into her face. Almost on reflex, Leon’s fingers itch to brush it away, to graze his fingertips against her cheeks, flush from the cold.
He suppresses the urge though, the way he does every emotion that gets in the way of their agreed-upon boundaries, every aberration that threatens to disrupt the status quo.
Her voice is featherlight against the breeze. “Warsaw is beautiful this time of year.”
His mind comes to a screeching halt, then kicks into overdrive again. For as long as he’s known her, Ada always seems to be speaking in riddles, her words so infuriatingly cryptic in a way that sends Leon scrambling trying to make sense of it all, wondering if there might be a hidden message he’s not getting.
He wonders if it’s possible to know someone for so long and yet not know them at all.
“Yeah,” he says. Experience tells him direct questions are unlikely to elicit straight answers, so he opts for a more subtle approach. “Though something tells me you’re not here just to sightsee.”
Ada’s smile is knowing, though she otherwise doesn’t object to his probing. “I have some business to take care of,” she confesses, almost conspiratorially, as if challenging him to dig deeper, if he dares.
“Lawful business, I hope,” Leon says, a subtle inquiry though it’s not phrased as one. It’s not every day that Ada is this forthcoming, he might as well push his luck.
Her eyebrow arches in that tell-tale you know better than that, Leon way of hers, and her gloved hand brushing against his cheekbones leaves him craving the touch of skin against skin. “Let’s not spoil the moment with all this business talk. Bad way to end a year.”
“Might as well get it all out before the new one arrives,” he counters. “Start fresh.”
“Start fresh,” Ada echoes, looking suddenly wistful. “You sure have a way of making it sound like everything’s going to be okay. It almost makes me want to believe you.”
“Would that really be so bad?”
“I’m not one to entertain impossibilities, Leon,” she says, but before he can decide on an appropriate response, she adds, almost like an afterthought. “Possibilities, on the other hand-”
And just like that, like a switch being flipped back on, there’s the Ada he knows again, the one who commands his undivided attention with barely a few words, who keeps him on his toes with her sharp wit and crackling quips.
He loves this side of her. He longs to see the other side of her - the woman behind the mask - all the same.
“What have you got brewing in that mind of yours this time, Ada?” he asks, though despite his best efforts, it comes out more intrigued than suspicious. There she goes again, charming him into yet another potentially bad idea, and there he is, only too happy to go along with it.
In spite of it all, bumping into her in a foreign city, surrounded by foreign people, looking like she might as well be a completely different person has him so disoriented that there’s an odd sort of comfort in knowing that some things haven’t changed, for better or for worse.
“I might have a proposition for you, Kennedy,” she says, a playful glint in her eyes as her smile turns expectant.
Ignoring her eye roll, Leon turns around to check their surroundings, purely out of habit than anything else. “Should I be worried?”
“Have I ever led you astray, Leon?”
He snorts. “If you want my honest answer, experience generally points toward yes.”
She shoots him a sideways glance. “Generally, not always,” she holds up a hand, silencing him before he can form a coherent counter-argument. “Besides, you haven’t experienced this one yet.”
“Fine,” Leon crosses his arms, staring her down. It does not achieve the effect he was looking for. “Let’s hear it, then.”
“A night out,” she proposes. “Just you and me, enjoying all that this fine city has to offer. End the year on a high note, start the new one on the right foot.”
“A night out,” he echoes, somewhat dumbly. “Because our last one ended so well.”
It surprises him, how readily his own mind brought it to the forefront, even after all this time. Most days, he prefers not to think about that night at all. The expensive candlelit dinner, the passionate sex in the fancy hotel suite she’d booked, the whispered secrets and confessed desires in the dark, all of it overshadowed by the utter emptiness of reaching out across the cotton mattress in the cold morning light, seeking her warmth but finding nothing.
Just another reminder that he’ll always be the one left behind, the one playing catch-up, grasping at something that will forever remain out of reach.
Never escaping the predetermined role that’s been decided for him, never crossing that line that she had drawn so firmly in the ground in bright red.
There will come a point where he has to wonder how many more times he’s willing to put his heart on the line, to stretch himself thin to bridge the endless chasm between them.
And yet-
“Let me make it up to you then,” she says, inching ever closer to him. “You’ve always loved a good redemption, haven’t you? We can, as you put it… start fresh.”
And yet he knows, he’ll throw caution to the wind for a mere chance at being with her, even for a minute longer, every single time.
He swallows, clutching at his last vestige of reason. “Thought you had business to take care of.”
Ada shrugs. “Unlike you, I’m not above mixing in a bit of pleasure every now and then.”
Leon raises an eyebrow. “Sounds dangerous.”
She leans in with a whisper. “Exactly.”
Something in his stomach lurches wildly at that, and he can feel the tides turning in his internal battle between temptation and rationality. Perhaps in the language of danger, they are both equally as fluent.
He’s not used to seeing her like this, with her windswept hair and pink cheeks, her clothes pressed and pristine, without so much as a speck of dirt, let alone a drop of blood. Right here in the real world, Ada looks like she’s just stepped out of a dream, a glimpse of the fantasy he often daydreamed about but never dared to dwell on for too long. He’s learned not to give in to such notions.
And yet, here she is, as real as anything, and it’s like he’s right back at the very beginning, eagerly hanging onto her every word, desperately wanting to believe in what he’s seeing.
It’s a trap, the more jaded part of him warns. But how could he say no?
How could he ever refuse her?
“Alright, you win.”
In the end, Ada will always win. And he will always surrender to her, one way or another.
She beams triumphantly, smugly even, and suddenly, he feels oddly light, like everything that’s been weighing on him since that fateful night as a rookie cop has vanished into thin air, like none of it ever happened, and they were just two ordinary people living ordinary lives whose biggest concern was what to get for dinner.
If this is a fantasy, he wouldn’t mind living in it a bit longer.
They end up walking twenty minutes to get pierogies on the Royal Route, because according to Ada’s succinctly compelling argument, it would be a waste to visit Poland and pass up on authentic pierogies. The quiet restaurant she picks out isn’t exactly the sort of top notch, Michelin-starred experience he’s come to associate with Ada’s more refined tastes, but the modest eatery’s dimly-lit interior and rustic furniture offer its own quaint charm and provide a sort of homely comfort, so he can’t complain. After all, it’s not so much the setting that matters to him as the company, and he’d happily follow her anywhere.
As a smiling server jogs up to them, Ada takes a moment to look around, humming in approval. “It seems they’ve renovated. I like it.”
“You’ve been here before?” he asks, unable to hold back his surprise.
Ada and the server exchange a few words as they’re led further into the restaurant. “A few times,” Ada answers over her shoulder. “I suggested that they could serve an extra table by utilizing that window bay,” she points at a cozy table, with cushioned bay window seating. A young couple is currently occupying it, seemingly lost in each other’s eyes.
He chuckles. “Is that what you do in your spare time? Give interior decoration advice? You’re full of surprises tonight, Ada.”
“Work-life balance is very important,” she says matter-of-factly.
Leon nods. “So I see.”
The server shows them to their table - nestled in a private corner - and leaves them with a menu that ends up being surprisingly extensive for such an unassuming establishment. Leon finds himself idly flipping through the laminated pages, barely registering anything before giving up and settling on watching Ada instead.
If it were up to him, they would’ve grabbed takeout from any of the five restaurants and three food carts they passed on their way to the Royal Route, but Ada seems to have an appreciation for the finer aspects of dining. The atmosphere of their surroundings, the quality of the food, the whole process of it. To her, it’s an experience to be savored, rather than a means of survival.
It’s not something he usually does, but he can appreciate it nonetheless.
“I believe you are not currently focusing on the task at hand, Agent Kennedy,” Ada says without looking up.
“Says who? I’m perfectly focused on the task at hand,” his gaze shifts to the menu in her hands. “Do you really need to read that? I thought you’ve been here a few times already.”
She does look up at that. “I didn’t want you to feel left out, perusing that menu all on your own,” she says.
“Oh, so this is for my benefit?” He shakes his head. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that. I’ll just have whatever you’re having.”
Ada closes the menu, and the slight tilt of her head screams God, you’re no fun. “You know, I seem to recall you telling me once that following a lady’s lead isn’t your style.”
Leon shrugs. “I’m already here, aren’t I?”
She studies him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she flags down a passing server and orders in rather fluent Polish, and he can’t help but be drawn to their conversation, despite not understanding a single word of it. Ada looks relaxed and unrestrained in a way he hasn’t ever seen, in a way that makes her seem like a different person altogether.
He can feel the walls he had carefully built up over the years slowly crumble at the sight. Perhaps, if they had met under different circumstances, unburdened by the weight of the world on their shoulders, they’d have casual dinners like this on the regular.
Like real people do.
“You would trust me with this?” Ada asks as the server leaves with their order, and his attention snaps back to her in an instant.
Her tone is casual, but the question itself is familiar and loaded. She’d asked him this before, in the heat of a battle or during the countless confrontations they used to have over old wounds and newfound loyalties.
No matter what, his answer has remained one and the same.
“Of course,” he says. It comes off a bit more serious than he intended, so he quickly amends, “You know this place better than I do, after all.”
Ada hums in acknowledgement, and they fall back into a companionable silence, accentuated only by the faint chatter of the few patrons around them. Leon looks away, and his gaze lands on her bare hand, resting on the table, her perfectly manicured fingers lightly tapping against the old wood.
A strange yet familiar longing slams into him full force, and for a brief, exhilarating second, he wants to reach across the table and hold her hand. His heart races at the thought, and it makes him feel stupid, that such an innocuous idea could make him so nervous. After all, they’re no strangers to each other’s bodies, and haven’t been for a long time now.
But holding her hand… that’s uncharted territory for him. They were never those kinds of friends, were they?
“What is it?” Ada asks, and for a moment he’s afraid that she might’ve somehow heard his thoughts, or read them all so clearly on his face. That’s the way he’s always felt with Ada: Exposed. Vulnerable. Understood.
As if on cue, the server returns with their pierogies, and Leon curls his fingers into his palm and withdraws his hand from where it has unconsciously inched closer to hers. The moment passes.
But then as he’s examining the dumplings artfully arranged on his plate, something else strikes him.
“What?” Ada inquires, an edge of exasperation creeping into her voice. “You’re acting all mysterious all of a sudden. Planning to steal my limelight?”
Leon laughs. “As if anyone ever could,” he shakes his head. “No, I just realized something, that's all.”
Ada pokes at her pierogies absently. “Must be some groundbreaking realization, then.”
“You’re a regular here,” he says. “You brought me to your regular haunt.”
“Someone has to show you what real food tastes like.”
Leon nods sagely. “And there you had me thinking you weren’t one for sentiment.”
Ada twirls her fork in her hand absently, her gaze almost challenging, though there’s a barest hint of a smile in the corners of her lips. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
He holds up his hands in surrender, but the warmth in his chest remains for the rest of the evening.
It’s a revelation to know that she too has her attachments, much as she likes to pretend otherwise. That she wants to share a piece of her world with him, however small it may be, even if she’s not ready to admit it yet.
He holds onto it like a beacon of hope.
The merciless December wind hits him like a lash across the face the instant he pushes the door open. Almost instinctively, Leon takes half a step back into the warmth of the restaurant, swearing under his breath.
Ada must find his suffering incredibly amusing, for she laughs and pulls him along. “Come on, handsome. No going back now. We’ve got a lot more ground to cover and the clock's ticking.”
“Did you plan a whole schedule for tonight?” he asks, incredulous, nearly tripping over himself from the force of her pull.
Ada merely smirks. “I like to be prepared.”
His curiosity trumps his apprehension, and Leon relents. “Then I leave myself in your no doubt very capable hands.”
It wouldn’t be the first time he has entrusted himself to her. No matter his reservations, he’s always trusted her to watch his back in the midst of battle. The real question is, can he trust her to hold his heart in her hands, capable as they are… of love as well as ruin?
They continue down the semi-crowded street illuminated by the shop windows and the colorful fairy lights leftover from Christmas. It’s a snowless day, a rare occurrence for this time of year, but the biting wind more than makes up for it, and walking next to her, Leon finds himself craving the warmth of her touch more than ever. There’s a tingling in his fingertips that he doesn’t know whether to chalk up to the cold, or that desperate need for physical contact.
Here they are, half a lifetime into this game of cat and mouse, and he’s still as nervous around her as he was when it all started.
He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost doesn’t notice Ada has stopped in her tracks. “I’ve always liked this place,” she says, her voice wistful, almost melancholy. “Never really had the time to appreciate it before.”
Leon takes in his surroundings. They’re standing in front of a bronze statue of some famous local figure or another. Nicolao Copernico, read the letters engraved into the marble pedestal.
He summons enough of those fading high school history lessons to recognize the name. “Copernicus,” he says. “The astronomer. Didn’t realize you were a fan.”
“You’ve been doing your homework,” Ada says, and he briefly debates whether he should be offended by how impressed she sounds. “Well done. But that’s not what I wanted to show you.”
“Then what-”
She grabs his arm and turns him around. “Look down.”
He does as he’s told, and what he finds are circular patterns spreading out across the tiled square, adorned by bronze, circular plaques embedded into the ground. It takes him a moment to realize what it is: a representation of the Solar System, and they’re standing at the very center of it.
Leon has never fancied himself an appreciator of the arts, but even he has to admit there’s something about the display that draws him in, in its deceptive simplicity.
“Sometimes you have to look a little harder for the sights truly worth seeing,” Ada says, clearly enjoying the feeling of knowing something he doesn’t. Which, knowing the two of them, is most of the time, anyway.
It used to frustrate him, always being half a step behind, but right now, he doesn’t mind it so much. Right now, they’re basking in the moment, something their hectic, dangerous lives would normally never allow, and time seems to slow to a crawl.
For the first time in so long, Leon feels like he’s living, not merely surviving. Alive, not merely breathing.
“Anyone ever told you you’d make a great tour guide?” he asks. “You know, if one day your mercenary job stops being fulfilling…”
“Are you trying to reform me, Leon?”
Leon shakes his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Pity,” she says, and he wonders if the disappointment he hears in her voice is merely his own wishful thinking. “I would’ve liked to see you try.”
“I know better than to entertain impossibilities,” he says meaningfully.
Ada’s gaze lingers on him a fraction of a second longer than it should. “You know nothing, Leon.”
It’s only then that Leon realizes, rather belatedly, that they’re standing so close that he can feel her warm breath on his face. So close that he can simply crane his neck and kiss her, if he dares.
He doesn’t. Instead, he averts his gaze and finds her hand still clutching his arm. Before he can talk himself out of it again, he covers her hand with his own and holds it tightly.
To his relief, Ada doesn’t pull away. “You were just waiting for an opportunity to do that, weren’t you?” she asks, and once again Leon feels his insides jolt, at the way she can read him as easily as if he were an open book.
Perhaps in order to be understood, one must accept the inevitability of being seen.
“If you wanted to hold my hand, all you had to do was ask,” Ada continues, taking full advantage of the opportunity to tease him. And then, before he can say anything else, she starts peeling her gloves off.
“What are you doing?”
“I prefer a more… hands-on approach,” she quips, stuffing her gloves in the pocket of her jacket.
Leon grimaces at the poor attempt at a pun, if one could even call it that. “Really? That’s what you’re going with? And you say mine are bad.”
“Maybe you’re rubbing off on me,” she says, half-joking, half-serious.
“God, I certainly hope so,” he takes her hands in his again, reveling in the feeling of skin against skin.
They’re not those kinds of friends, the kinds who go out for dinner, admire touristy spots and hold hands like bashful teenagers going on their first date. They’re two dysfunctional people who circle each other like opponents in a ring, all false bravado and feigned coolness, afraid of what will happen when their masks slip and the truth is finally laid bare before their eyes.
But now… Perhaps they’ve grown too spent, too weary, too old to keep up the fight. Perhaps what they both need is a tender, quiet night where they can both lay down their weapons and give in to the longing that has always simmered underneath the surface.
“You’re going to get cold,” he says, earnestly this time and not caring one bit.
Ada looks down at their joined hands. “Well, that’s where you come in, isn’t it?”
He has a dozen different retorts ready on the tip of his tongue, but instead he answers, “As you wish, Ma’am.”
Surprise flickers across her features, before it softens into a smile. “And they say chivalry is dead.”
For another minute or five, they simply stand there, in the dead center of the Solar System, two planets thrown off their respective trajectories, drawn together in defiance of the laws of the universe.
Looking at Ada, all he can think about is how damn lucky he is, to be allowed to stand by her side, to be given the privilege of seeing her up close.
It feels like capturing lightning in a bottle, like stopping time and preserving a single moment for eternity, as if encased in amber.
“Shall we?” she asks, tugging gently on his arm.
Leon squeezes her hand. “Lead the way.”
The annual Christmas market in the Castle Square, as it turns out, is still in full swing. Between the cacophony of indistinct chatter, the flow of people rushing about in every direction, and the blinding Christmas lights illuminating stalls filled with food, seasonal crafts and various wooden curiosities, everything feels so disorienting, it’s almost overwhelming.
Amid the madness, he holds onto her like his life depends on it, allowing the firm grip of her hand to anchor and steady him.
Ada is browsing an impressive display of wares, while engaging the vendor - a kindly elderly woman in an appropriately festive bright red hat - in easy conversation, all soft smiles and polite nods. Every so often, they’d whisper conspiratorially, sneaking glances in his direction, before resuming their discussion with renewed interest.
Much like with the server, there’s an easy charm about Ada that feels undeniably genuine, as inconceivable as such an idea may seem, as much as it contradicts everything he knows (or thinks he knows) about her.
The Ada he sees on the battlefield: cold, pragmatic, elusive. The Ada standing before him now: warm, approachable, vulnerable. Which is the woman, and which is the mask?
She can see him, that much is obvious, but can he really see her? Can he ever hope to?
He’s still pondering these questions when Ada returns to his side, saying goodbye to the vendor and hooking her arm around his. They continue on their way, huddled together for warmth.
“You seem awfully pleased,” Leon notes, after a moment.
“Just had an interesting chat, that’s all,” she says, turning back to the vendor, who’s now joined by a second old lady, both beaming at him. “Somebody’s popular tonight.”
Leon chuckles, waving politely at the old woman. “Scoping out the competition, aren't you?”
Ada rolls her eyes. “If that’s my competition, I wish to forfeit.”
“You’re right,” he nods seriously. “Most people wouldn’t believe it, but those old ladies can throw a mean right hook. Best to err on the side of caution.”
She elbows him, just hard enough to make a point, and Leon raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, I yield! I yield,” he rubs the spot where her elbow collided with his side. “Still, that must’ve been one hell of a chat. I’ve never seen a vendor so happily engrossed in conversation with a non-buyer.”
Ada’s gaze is frighteningly discerning. “Oh, you are dying to know, aren’t you?”
“Only because it was pretty clear you were talking about me,” he points out.
“Observant, for once,” she teases. “In any case, it’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
At his persistence, Ada sighs dramatically. “Well, if you must know… she was wondering how long we’ve been married.”
An invisible force grips his chest, vicelike and unrelenting. He swallows, trying to calm his hammering heart, praying to whatever higher power he doesn’t actually believe in that Ada didn’t notice that particular slip-up. “And what did you tell her?”
“That we’re on our first date,” she smiles, looking as unflappable as ever. For a moment, it seems as though all traces of vulnerability have vanished, leaving him to wonder if they were ever there to begin with.
He opens his mouth to disagree, but the counter-argument withers away on his lips, reduced to dust and ashes before he can utter a single word. Yes, they’ve gone out before. Clandestine meetings, dinner and sex, that’s always been their routine: Quick and straight to the point. But they’ve never done this: Enjoying a hearty meal in a homely restaurant, strolling around a city at night, taking in the sights and smells, being mistaken for a married couple.
It’s all so painfully mundane, the kind of blissful normalcy that’s not meant for people like them, tainted as they are by blood and death. Tonight is an outlier in their well-worn patterns, a break from their entrenched habits.
They’ve always been hesitant to define anything between them in precise terms, but he supposes that if they have to call this “night out” by a name, a “first date” is as good as any.
“What, no witty comeback?” Ada, for once, looks genuinely surprised. “Have I finally managed to stun you into silence? You, the famously sharp-tongued Leon Kennedy?”
Despite his best efforts, he can’t stop a smile from spreading across his face. To him, she’s always been a wild card, a whirlwind of unpredictability. But every now and then, it feels good to be able to flip the script and take her by surprise instead. To know that even after all this time, he can still affect her the way she affects him, can still chip away at that tough exterior, however little.
“Oh god, I’ve really done it,” Ada says as realization dawns on her, clearly amused though she tries to hide it. She shakes his arm gently, and when that fails to elicit a response, her eyes narrow teasingly. “Really? Nothing to say at all? Looks like I’m not the only one who’s full of surprises tonight.”
Normally, he’d love to go toe-to-toe against her in another one of their playful banters, so familiar now that they’ve become almost instinctive.
But perhaps sometimes, not saying anything is the most effective strategy of all, Leon thinks as he watches Ada’s slightly furrowed brows and subtle smile. He’d do anything to see her like this more often, to see the faint laugh lines on her face, a testament to all they have survived and will continue to survive.
In these rare moments, she seems so heartbreakingly human that it makes him ache with a longing he hasn’t found a name for yet.
Is he finally seeing her for who she is? Or is this yet another part she plays so well it has become like a second skin?
“It’s the night playing tricks on you, that’s all,” he says finally.
Ada hums noncommittally as they resume their stroll. The night does, indeed, have an almost surreal quality to it: filled to the brim with lights, music, and joyous people. It’s a stark contrast to the last time they ran into each other, in another European city ravaged by war and destruction.
A warzone. That seems to be the backdrop of every single one of their chance encounters over the years. All their lives, they’ve gone where death and silence go, but right now, the night is alive and so are they. There isn’t a war raging around them, no sounds of deafening fire, no split-second life-or-death decisions to be made, just the sound and sight of life as they’ve never known it before.
It’s a wonderful, terrifying experience, and he’s as scared to indulge as he is to let go.
Just then, they pause in front of the castle, a grand, imposing structure, illuminated with appropriately festive lights. As they stand there in silence, Leon sneaks a glance at Ada, seeking an opening.
Truth be told, architecture isn’t exactly his thing, and the only interest he holds in castles is how to break out of one, courtesy of a few not-so-pleasant experiences with a certain diminutive Spanish aristocrat.
He’s wondering whether he should add “architecture aficionado” to his ever-growing list of discoveries about Ada tonight when she finally speaks. “Impressive, don’t you think?”
“Sure is,” he says, his eyes not leaving her. Perhaps it’s cowardly, but he finds it much easier to watch Ada when her gaze isn’t on him, peeling away at his defenses, reading his secrets as easily as if his insides were laid bare for her eyes only.
If only he were able to read her in the same way.
“So what have you got to tell me about this one?”
Ada gives him a side-eye. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Leon,” she chastises. “You’re supposed to let the story lead you, draw you in. Allow yourself to be seduced, for once.”
Haven’t I been, this whole time? He wants to ask. Always a fool for you, despite everything. Instead he simply bites his lip and nods.
“What you’re seeing is merely a reconstruction,” Ada says. “The original was destroyed during the war. They rebuilt it from the ruins of the former castle, the broken, scattered fragments of whatever that managed to survive the devastation.”
She sighs softly. “In fact, the entire Old Town we’re standing in is a painstakingly recreated copy. But you wouldn’t know any of that, looking at it now.”
She’s doing it again, speaking in riddles that Leon is usually far too slow to pick up on. Over time, it became such a common occurrence that he has simply learned to choose the path of least resistance: to let it go and not question it any further.
This time though, he won’t give up so easily.
“What are you trying to say, Ada?” he asks, though he already has an inkling where this is going.
“It’s impossible to know something in its entirety,” she says. “The ugly past, the bloody history. You may never know the whole story.”
“I don’t need to know the whole story,” he counters. “All that matters is what’s in front of me.”
“And what if that too isn’t real? What if it’s nothing more than a pale imitation of something better?”
“Not an imitation,” he points out. “A restoration to its former self.”
“All of that effort, just to salvage what was already ruined,” Ada muses, somewhat brusquely. That’s the way she appears at times, pragmatic to the point of coldness. It doesn’t faze him as much anymore. He wonders if it means he is getting closer to understanding her, or if she has simply stopped trying as hard to put up a front. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s neither.
“Nothing is ever truly ruined,” he argues, surprising even himself with the intensity of his own assertion. “We simply take the pieces and rebuild it anew.”
“Even if it’s never going to be the same again?”
“Nothing stays the same forever,” he says. “You of all people should know that. Sooner or later, everything changes.”
Ada reaches out to skim the back of her hand against his cheek. The sudden contact startles him, but her touch is warm. “Some things haven’t.”
Leon laughs. “I’m not the same person I was when I first met you. Hell, I’m probably not even the same person I was the last time you saw me.”
“You’re right,” she nods. “You were much less sardonic back then.”
“You like me better this way,” he says, and from the look on her face, he knows that he’s right.
Ada’s fingers stroke at his hair, brushing his long bangs out of his face with a tenderness he would’ve never believed she was capable of. Almost on instinct, he leans into her touch, and it’s as if every pressure that’s been building in his chest loosens up all at once.
He’s always known this: That one touch from her can make him disintegrate on a cellular level. It’s a horrifying thought, the idea that he might come undone so completely at her hands, that for years, he tried to fight it. A battle he knows he will lose every time, but then again, his entire life has been a series of losing battles anyway, what’s one more?
But now, for the first time, he finally sees the truth, as clear as day: That this mad, impossible woman might be the death of him one day. And that he’d have it no other way.
“What was tonight all about, Ada?” he asks, and it takes every bit of his willpower to keep his own voice from trembling. If there was ever a time to be strong, now would be it. “Why did you bring me out here?”
Ada lowers her gaze, seemingly fixated on a spot on his chest. “Why did you say yes?”
That’s what she always does, flipping his questions around on him, forcing him to turn himself inside out in search of the answers he so desperately needs. He wants to tell her to cut it out, that he’s not in the mood to play another one of her mind games. Instead, he simply tells the truth, “Because I wanted to. Because it’s you.”
He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Because I trust you.”
She smiles sadly. “You shouldn’t.”
Before he can say another word, a loud noise booms over their heads. In an instant, he’s seized by unexpected terror, flashes of blood and fire blazing through his mind, burning into his retinas. The earth suddenly turns to liquid beneath his feet, his surroundings blur past him at a dizzying speed, and his chest seems to physically constrict, suddenly too small for his pounding heart.
Through it all, he feels a squeeze on his hand. A thousand different indistinct noises echo in an overwhelming discordance before being drowned out by a singular voice, slowly becoming crystal clear. Leon. Leon.
Ada. For a moment he’d forgotten she was still next to him. He turns his focus on her voice, allowing the pressure of her hand on his to ground him, and bring him back to reality.
Another minute or two passes, and he can feel his breathing slowly return to normal as everything in his vicinity finally, blessedly stops twisting.
Above them, crackling explosions continue sporadically, as spectators all around them look up in wonder.
Damn fireworks. Normally it’s not as bad if he knows to expect them, but he must’ve lost track of time and forgotten about them altogether. Damn it all.
Though their hands remain clasped together, Leon keeps his gaze firmly on anything but Ada. He doesn’t want to see the look on her face right now, the pity or disgust or shock that comes with it. A wave of shame overcomes him, overriding the rational part of his brain that tells him there’s no reason he should feel this way.
He never thought about it until it happened, but he wasn’t not ready for her to witness this side of him. The side of him that’s nothing more than a broken man playing at being normal. He wonders if she saw this in him, those many times she studied him with that penetrating gaze of hers.
Leon tries to divert his attention back to the people around them, but in doing so, he feels sudden, irrational anger rise in his throat. He envies these people, the way they can marvel at the fireworks and see only the beauty of the colorful lights and not have their minds wander down darker paths. Do they know…? Do they have any idea what he has seen and endured? Would they even care if they did?
“Leon.” Ada’s voice draws him out of his dark thoughts and back to reality. “Leon, hey.”
He whips around, his mind high on a sort of frenzied madness, to meet her gaze. Gently but firmly, Ada cups his face in her hands. “Leon. Look at me.”
“Don’t think about anything else. Don’t look at anything else. Just keep your eyes on me.”
Leon does as he is told. He takes in every line on her face, the dip of her nose, the curve of her lips, the fireworks reflected in the corner of her eye. She looks real and tangible, half illuminated by alternating reds, greens and yellows.
She looks absolutely breathtaking, and he’s tired of fighting his own desires.
Before his rationality can stop him, Leon leans down and captures her lips with his own.
For the briefest of moments, Ada freezes. But before he has a chance to properly register that reaction, she’s returning his kiss with a hunger that verges on feverish, pulling him tighter against her. He can feel her nails scratching lightly across the nape of his neck, her fingers threading through his hair as he holds onto her like she’s his lifeline, like she’s the only thing keeping him from absolutely losing it.
Come to think of it, she probably is.
It’s funny, he thinks, gasping against her mouth, that he can’t remember the last time he kissed her. Or any other time before that. All he has is a vague awareness that he did, but if he has to describe how they felt, his mind draws a blank. They all seem so insignificant, so far away now compared to the crackle of electricity, the burst of color and light flowing from the intimacy of their skinship.
It almost feels like kissing her for the first time again. The memory of it brings back a sad, bitter feeling he has tried for so long to bury. Their first kiss, forever tainted by his gnawing doubts and her uncertain motives. But none of that matters anymore. Nothing matters except this very moment they share, blissfully unburdened by their usual inhibitions and uncertainties.
In a way, it feels like a do-over. A chance to do it right, this time.
All too soon, they break apart, dazed yet desperate for more. He rests his forehead against hers, trying to calm his labored breaths and hammering heart. All around them, everything melts into nothingness.
Ada slowly exhales. “Took you long enough, Kennedy.”
“If you wanted me to kiss you, all you had to do was ask,” he jokes, and immediately gets a shove in the chest for his trouble.
He laughs, an unrestrained sort of laughter, and when Ada smiles, there’s an unmistakable fondness in the glint of her eyes.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” he reminds her. “Why did you bring me out here?”
“I told you already, didn’t I?” she runs her fingers through his hair and down his face. “Warsaw is beautiful this time of year.”
He looks at her, at this devastatingly beautiful, fatally flawed woman that he has loved and hated in equal measure for nearly half his life. “Yes. I suppose it is.”
“Aren’t you glad you came?” she asks, her voice light and teasing.
Just this once, he doesn’t mind giving her the satisfaction of being right. “Sure am,” he says. “You were right, after all.”
“I’m always right,” Ada says, rather confidently.
“Not always,” he asserts. “You were wrong about one thing.”
A flicker of amusement passes through her features. “And what is that?”
“The only sight worth seeing is right here in front of me,” he says.
She rolls her eyes. “Do you say that to all the ladies?”
“No, just the right lady.”
Ada’s eyes narrow, but he can tell that she’s at a loss for a witty comeback. It feels good to have the last word, even if it doesn’t happen very often for him.
The truth is, he was wrong too. They’re not two wayward planets thrown off-orbit, pulled together against all odds. She’s always been the sun, blinding and untouchable, and he is but one satellite, drawn to her magnetic power, always hovering just out of reach, constantly aching to be near.
A final burst of fireworks illuminates the sky above them, and the scattered cheers from the crowd gathered in the square pops the fragile bubble that they’ve wrapped themselves in.
The spell breaks, and once again, Leon is left wondering where do they go from here, if anywhere at all. Back to how they were? Would that even be possible, after they’ve crossed the line with such reckless abandon? Forward? What would that even look like, given their misaligned principles and conflicting lifestyles?
Ada lets go of his hand and steps back. The moment passes. A cold gust of wind blows past, leaving him shivering and not for the first time, regretting his wardrobe choice.
“What happens now?” he asks. The crowd around them slowly disperses. Soon, it’ll just be the two of them left.
Instead of answering, she takes off her scarf, and - ignoring his confused protests - wraps it around him.
He watches her tie it into a loose knot around his neck. “What are you doing?”
Ada gives the scarf a gentle pat as she admires her own handiwork. Finally, she meets his gaze. “You’re going to get cold.”
“What about you?”
She shrugs. “I’ll be alright. Someone did a very thorough job warming me up earlier.”
A joking answer to his earnest question. Seems like little has changed, after all. Leon shakes his head in disbelief. “And there I thought I was getting closer to understanding you.”
Ada takes a step back. “It’s the night lying to you, Leon.”
Suddenly painfully aware of what is about to happen, he steps forward. “Ada, wait.”
She smirks, turning away. “When has that one ever worked?”
“Worth a try,” he attempts a smile that probably comes across more like a grimace instead. “I’ll miss you, Ada.”
She turns back to him. “Don’t look so grim, handsome. We’ll see each other again. Trust me.”
“I thought you said I shouldn’t,” he points out.
“I did, but when have you ever listened to what I say?”
Well, he can’t argue against that.
“In the meantime,” Ada takes another step back. “Be careful out there, Leon.”
He grins. “Never.”
Ada shoots him a meaningful look. “My point exactly.”
“I’ll see you around,” she says, and maybe it is indeed the night playing tricks on him, but it sounds like a promise.
He chooses to trust her, like he always did, through all the disagreements, the anger, and the distance that separated them.
He’ll let her go, because no matter what, as long as they both live, and the world continues to exist, they’ll find their way back to each other. No matter what. He knows that now.
“Ada,” he calls after her. Time for the truth, it’s now or never. “For what it’s worth, it’s real to me. It has always been.”
She seems to contemplate his words for a moment. Finally, she simply says, “I know.”
With one final smile, Ada mingles with the crowd. Before long, she vanishes without a trace, as if she were never there to begin with.
Well, almost. He touches the scarf wrapped around his neck, tries to commit the soft wool texture to memory. It was already warm when she put it on him, and still smells faintly of her even now.
He remembers seeing her wearing it for the first time; a singular red spot in a sea of monotone. Red means something to Leon Kennedy. It’s the color of blood, and passion, and of Ada Wong. It’s been hers from the moment she swept into his life and claimed it for her own, leaving behind an indelible mark that would not fade no matter how desperately he tried to erase it.
And so he holds onto it, takes comfort in it, the way he does the countless little mementos she has left him through the years. Because no matter what, she’ll always leave a part of herself behind for him.
Cold and pragmatic, warm and vulnerable. Perhaps she is both. Or maybe she’s neither. Either way, he trusts her to open up to him when she is ready. And maybe one day, he’ll finally be able to see her. All of her.
He’ll wait for that day, for as long as it takes.
For the first time in a long while, their goodbye leaves him with hope, instead of disappointment.
Casting one last glance around, Leon turns on his heel and goes back the way he came.
After all, it’s a new year, and with a new dawn comes a chance for a new beginning.
And his heart has never been lighter.
fin