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lapis-lights · 2 years ago

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Chapter 02 | You Could Kill Me And You Should

'Falling From Grace' Series

[Vendetta!Leon Kennedy x Reader]

Song Title: This Is Love by Air Traffic Controller

Content Warnings: Leon is a Bad Driver (most important warning), Mostly tension building, They're getting better until they're not, Some nightmares

Word Count: 12k

Author's Notes: Second chapter of the Falling From Grace series! What did you guys think yesterday? I hope it was good enough in your guys' opinion! Anyways enjoy I hope you enjoy part two :D

Posts are scheduled for 8 a.m. EST every day until the series is complete!

Series Masterlist

Ao3

Summary: As you and Leon start working as allies, the more you start having second thoughts about him. Surely it couldn't mean anything...right? Conflicting emotions and a surprise visit shatter your whole view of him and you can't help but wish Leon would reveal his true intentions already.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

"You're no good, you're no good. You could kill me and you should. I'm an idiot for thinking this was anything but blood..."

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

You're really considering your life choices.

Currently, you hold on for dear life in the fancy little sedan Leon owns as he races down the street, pushing fifty-five on a road where the speed limit was set to forty. It's only been a couple minutes since you left the motel and you wonder in amazement how this man manages to get anywhere with his horrendous driving skills. A stop sign comes up on the horizon, and he at least has the decency to slow down. You think it'll be smooth sailing but he slams his foot on the brake right before the sign and the entire damn vehicle jolts beneath you as your head almost crashes into the headrest.

Maybe this was how he was trying to kill you. You never thought Leon would be interested in vehicular manslaughter.

Before he can even think about pressing on the gas, you unbuckle your seatbelt and earn a confused look from him.

"Get out," you command, opening your door. "You're playing passenger princess now."

You feel much safer as you adjust the seat and mirrors and Leon lands into the space you had just occupied. As revenge for your abrupt change in seating, he cranks the religious Christian rock station on the radio and subjects you to guitars lamenting about Jesus as singers mourn the death of their savior.

Truly, right now you wish Jesus would take the wheel.

"How did you even pass your driver's test?" You mumble, checking the street both ways (which you're sure Leon wouldn't have done if he still had the unfortunate privilege of driving) before tapping the gas and climbing up to a very safe forty-two.

"They said that while my driving was unpleasant, it technically wasn't unsafe or hazardous," he shrugs. "I got it on my third try."

"They lied to you, then," you frown. "Probably gave you pretty boy pity points or something."

“Pretty?”

When you glance at him, his eyebrows are raised suggestively and you scowl. “You’re so right, my apologies. Mediocre boy pity points.”

“Hey.”

When you get onto the main interstate and turn on cruise control, you finally let yourself relax, seeing that practically no other vehicles were out at this hour of the morning and gaining some sort of comfort that nobody was tracking you. For now, at least, you're safe.

The city Leon found that was near the laboratory you were planning on infiltrating was fairly large and he'd rented out a suite at the top of one of the prestigious hotels with government money that he spent without a glance. You'd simply stared at him when he revealed this information to you and he'd only smiled and told you to pack your things.

Ridiculous. He was going to drive you crazy.

The song on the radio switches and you're surprised that you know it. Leon seems equally surprised when he hears you humming the melody of the chorus under your breath.

"You know these songs?" He asks.

You turn your left blinker on and check the rearview despite the lack of any other car. "Just this one so far. My family was heavy on this kind of music when I was a kid so it's mostly backed by nostalgia."

"Huh. Mine were too."

That surprises you. It's weird knowing you have something in common with him, especially with a childhood core memory like this one. He also didn't strike you as the type to have grown up on cheesy Christian rock, but the more you know. Maybe if you knew him earlier on, it would make more sense. After all, you'd only gotten to know him a little after the incident with Wilson and his business with working with viruses right under the president's nose.

Of the course, the J.I.E. had wanted you to check it out before you firmly reminded them they were asking you to infiltrate the white house.

After a few minutes of nothing but roads and listening to music, you hear light snores to your right. One glance is all it takes to know that Leon’s been lost to the gentle rock of the car and being lulled to sleep. The sight makes you soften a little as you return your eyes to the road and snake a hand to the knob that controlled the radio station. You twist until you find something you like, settling back into the seat as you keep on, singing the lyrics to some choruses you know mindlessly as the streetlights fly by in patterns of aged yellow.

You only have a vague notion of where you are so it really is unfortunate that Leon had allowed himself to fall asleep so quickly, but you don’t really fault him. The guy technically was supposed to be on vacation but with your sudden intrusion, it made it near impossible to get the relaxation that a getaway insinuated. You feel bad, but also consider that he had volunteered to accompany you for this whole plan.

At the most, he could’ve nursed you back to health and let you go, blackmailing you later into telling any information you might gain. You know the government isn’t above doing something petty like that.

But, here he was, snoring softly away in the seat of a car that’s being driven by one of the greatest threats on his life. Leon must’ve been exhausted if he was able to go unconscious despite all the risks. Not that you would ever dream of trying to engage in a fight while you’re going seventy on the interstate, but more so that you do owe him. You’re not the model of an upstanding citizen, but you try to keep your morals as best as you can in this industry.

You sigh, glancing out the windshield to see the bare trees lined with frost on their trunks flashing by as they bordered the interstate. Snow covers where grass usually sat so the blizzard must've been large having covered this much ground in the span of only a few days.

Truly alone with your thoughts now, you reflect on everything that has happened. Of course, you’d told Leon what had happened at the J.I.E. when you left, but he never knew how you got wrapped up in all of that kind of stuff. For all he knew, you just showed up one day and found a new threat to his missions.

As a high schooler, you’d always dreamed of doing something big. Despite being talked down by your partner at the time, you’d been determined to help those in need and care for the ones who’d been lost and needed guidance. ‘Justice for Inhumane Experimentalists’ was the title of those hopes and dreams so landing an internship there felt like you were one step closer to everything you wanted.

They promised you more. They promised you’d be helping masses of people.

You’ve killed more than you can count on your two hands and have gotten a whole bunch of scars that you can’t even bear to think about now. That youthful hope has been sucked out of your soul, but your parents still think you’re in some city with a regular nine-to-five living your best life. You haven’t seen them in years, but frankly don’t care to try now.

You don’t care to open that can of worms.

You notice a green road sign that lets you know that the city is only a couple miles off of an exit, and you recognize the name of it uttered by Leon in passing when you asked him where you’d be heading. As you vear off the main interstate and merge onto the exit road, you hear a grumble and an odd noise of recognition.

There’s a pause before Leon speaks, voice heavy with sleep and tiredness still lingering in his tone. “You’re thinking really hard over there.”

Confused, you slow down at a stoplight and actually turn to get a good look at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, for one, you’re holding onto that steering wheel like you’re trying to choke someone to death–” you loosen your grip and your knuckles flood with color, “–and you’ve got that wrinkle in your forehead that you get when you’re really focused on something.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve almost killed you enough times to know when you’re trying to think of something to get you out of tight spots,” he reveals as the light turns green and you tear your gaze away from him to carefully turn left across the intersection. “You’re easy to read.”

“To you, maybe.”

“Are you saying you can’t say the same about me?”

He’s got you there. “Touché.”

“Thought so,” he leans back smugly.

Maybe you should have crashed the car while he was sleeping. You’d have to mourn the missed opportunity later.

Lights appear on the horizon, and you feel better upon seeing the large silhouette of the city rising over the landscape. A green sign lets you know that you've breached the border as Leon begins directing you down the unfamiliar streets to one of the bigger storied buildings. You park easily into a free space and volunteer to start unpacking the bags so he can go check into the room.

The ground is lined with ice and snow from the recent blizzard that had carried over this way too. Today, you and Leon would be setting yourself up for recon work on the J.I.E. but more importantly, buying you some much-needed clothes and necessities. Now that you were close enough to actual stores, you could pick up some things you've needed since you showed up at the motel.

When Leon reemerges, he has a key card in hand.

The two of you don't say anything, but each takes a suitcase to at least make it look like you brought something. The light hits your eyes as you enter through the sliding doors and wave politely to the hostess who's sitting alone at the front desk.

"I hope we'll provide you with a nice place for your honeymoon," she calls out and your stomach drops. "If you need anything, just let me know!"

"Oh! Thank you so much," you enthuse with an exaggerated smile. It drops as soon as you round the corner to get on the elevator and you whirl around to Leon who's acting like he did nothing. "Really, Kennedy? A honeymoon?"

"It made the most sense since I booked the suite," he shrugs placidly, reaching around you to press the button to call the lift. "So try to behave and be a good little wife, yeah?"

That old flame of hatred reignites in your chest and you remember just exactly why you and Leon had such an intense rivalry. You frown when he tilts his head up to watch the numbers tick down on the small screen above the door frame, and before he can get the chance to even think, you elbow him sharply in the gut earning a pained wheeze and a satisfactory double over.

The elevator doors open, and you walk forward with a grin, the suitcase rolling behind you. "Come on, husband. We've got a room waiting for us."

The glare he gives you is probably one of the nastiest you've ever seen.

"So much for a peace treaty," he mutters under his breath and you roll your eyes as he gets on.

Really, you shouldn’t have let your guard down after all the vulnerable moments you’ve shared with him and you’re reminded that this partnership is merely temporary on both ends. Once Leon gets what he wants and your little vendetta has been quelled, you’d part ways and end your feud by never having to see one another again.

Thank god for that.

The room is decorated modernly, with crisp white sheets and polished wooden floors that seem to be upheld in the most pristine condition one could afford. In all honesty, getting to spend the night in something like this after having to live in the motel for a couple of days was a blessing. If you weren’t still pissed at Leon’s surprise cover story, you might have thanked him.

He really couldn’t come up with some better excuse, huh? Maybe you should handle all the talking during this mission proceeding forward.

You let the suitcase in your hand come to a stop as you take in the view. On the far wall, large velvet curtains cover the entire space and curiously, you peak through them. You find that the entire wall is just one big window and t view is breathtaking, showcasing a city waking up as the sun just barely begins to rise up from over the horizon. The sparse amount of sunlight stays easy on the eyes and you sigh quietly as you simply resign to watch.

“I hope a skyline isn’t enough to wow you,” Leon’s voice breaks you from your quiet stupor and you crane your head around to look at him unimpressed.

Did he ever know when to keep his mouth shut?

“I’m sure liking a skyline is a better sight than all the pornstars you probably blow all that money off on,” you bite back, moving away from the window and wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Are you still hung up on the cover story?”

“Yes.”

“You’re immature.”

“And you’re insane.”

Leon groans and you choose to ignore his theatrics in favor of looking at the brochures provided by the hotel on what to do. There was a large shopping district near here that caught your eye. The title of it shared the last name of one of the officials in the J.I.E., and having it be located so near to one of the hidden labs must be no coincidence.

You’re about to bring this point up to Leon when you notice he’s standing a lot closer than you were expecting. You hadn’t even heard him moving and your heart leaps up into your throat, effectively killing any words you were about to say.

“Look, if this is gonna work out, we need to get along as best we can,” he begins and you already feel like he’s chastising you like a kid who got caught with their hand down a cookie jar. “I’ll consult you on any more cover-ups we might have to pull off in the future, but we need to cooperate if we’re gonna make it out of this alive.”

You know he has a point, but you won’t let yourself be told off as if he wasn’t being a fucking instigator. “You wanted to come on this road trip, Kennedy. Remember that.”

You brush past him roughly and decide to slam into the bathroom, breathing out and leaning against the door when you get inside. The mirror is bordered by a bright white light that reflects in your eyes when you look into it. As per usual, you’ve seen better days, and you think bitterly about how much your appearance has deteriorated since your primetime, so to speak.

People your age should be having kids and going out drinking every weekend to take off the end of dealing with coworkers and customers–not fighting a constant war against unnatural bioogical weapons.

Unless you hopped on a dating app or something stupid after this whole thing is said and done, there was no hope for you.

You pretend like you’ve gone to the bathroom, flushing the empty toilet bowl and washing your hands to get rid of the persistent feeling of dirt on your palms. When you walk out, Leon’s got the curtains drawn and was standing right in front of the window. He turns upon you exiting, awkwardly motioning to the view.

“You should come see the sunrise,” he says, hands rubbing the back of his neck like he’s a boy asking out the baker’s daughter. “It’s pretty. You’ll like it.”

Cautiously, you join him and look out. Leon’s right–it’s pretty.

The sun doesn’t intrude on your eyes but only slowly rises as a ball in a shade of fiery orange, lighting up the skyline until you can make out the finer details on buildings that reach the height of the hotel. It illuminates the entirety of the suite in a golden glow, and you look up at Leon to ask him why he’d done this but the question catches on your tongue.

He looks beautiful in this setting, some dark and repressed part of your mind croons. His features are framed just right and the shadows pronounce and contrast all the parts of him that you neglect to notice just for the sake of having known him for so long. The only other time you’ve reluctantly admired him was the last night you’d spent together in the motel under the cover of darkness in the middle of nowhere.

You decide that despite your history together, this is how you want to remember him.

“You’re right,” you murmur, catching his attention and those blue eyes find yours. He’s almost as breathtaking as the skyline is. “It’s really pretty, and I do like it.”

He’s so close, you can almost feel his body heat if you focus hard enough, and that deranged part of your mind grows and grows until you finally have the clarity to shut it down. You shake your head mentally, breaking your eye contact to actually look at what he’d meant for you to.

What the hell just happened?

Had you really just indulged that impulsive little voice in your mind again? You could admit that Leon was attractive objectively, but you’re not just any woman who would fall for his charms and smooth-talking tongue. You know him too well for that.

Some feeling curls in your chest, crossed between disgust, glee, hate, and excitement. Whatever it is or what it means, you don’t like it.

For now, you allow yourself to stay in this quiet moment–one of the rare things you hardly ever get–and admire the sun.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Bustling cities had never really been your style, but you've been forced to deal with them one too many times.

For some reason, you hadn't expected the sleepy city you watched wake up would turn into such a tornado of chaos once the sun had climbed up into the sky enough. For this reason, it was important you and Leon stayed close together so that you wouldn't lose each other in the storm.

If only you had a phone for emergencies, but that was too easy of a way for the J.I.E. to track you down simply. It was safer to be off the grid entirely.

The effects of winter were still in play unfortunately so the snow hadn't left the streets just yet. Icicles persistently formed wherever they could and the wind still swept with an icy chill that made you shiver under the clothes you decided to wear for the day.

It was nearing lunchtime and Leon was adamant about finding someplace to sit down to eat after walking aimlessly around town trying to find the location in the brochure you'd found, though you both agreed on going when it would be less busy. The fatigue would have worn you down if he didn't force you into a sweet little café that just happened to be along the sidewalk you'd been strolling on.

“I could’ve kept going,” you defend, and Leon levels an unconvinced look at you.

“We needed a break anyways,” he refutes, motioning to a menu written in chalk above the counter where a glass display case sits. “Go find something, and don’t worry about the price.”

You want to taunt him for having to buy his enemy something as if you really were on a date, but the overwhelming hunger that hits you is enough to make your mind wipe clean. As Leon begins ordering his things, you peek into the display case where all the little cakes and pastries are displayed while listening to him talk with the cashier.

“How do you like working here?” he was saying.

“Oh, it’s good work,” the cashier answers. He’s got dark hair with shocks of silver lining it and a full mustache. His eyes seem honest enough. “I’ve been the store owner of this old place for my whole life, really.”

“Store owner?”

“Got it from my dad,” the guy says before glancing your way–though you pretend like you aren’t watching him through your peripheral–and teases, "Your girlfriend?"

"Oh, no," Leon deflects easily, shaking his head. "She's not my girlfriend."

Upon hearing that, something must have possessed you at the moment for some inexplicable reason. In a split-second decision, you straighten up and give a sugary bright smile to the store owner.

"I'm his wife."

You can feel Leon’s stare burning holes in your head.

“Oh!” the store owner seems mildly surprised. “I should have known–we get married couples younger than you two all the time.”

You resist looking at Leon in favor of ordering what you’d decided on during their shared conversation. He has enough consciousness to slide a card into the reader when it was time to pay, but you know he’s just bursting at the seams to ask what the fuck you were pulling.

To be honest, you didn’t even know yourself.

“What are you doing?” he hisses quietly once you slide into a booth in the corner. “I thought we were discussing any cover stories we were doing.”

“You came up with that.”

“You weren’t on board with it.”

“It just took me by surprise this morning.”

Leon sighs, massaging the bring of his nose like this whole thing was giving him a headache. To be fair, it probably was, but you weren’t too keen on trying to push it. After all, you were the reason he was on this wild goose chase during his vacation time even if he was the one who practically forced you to take him along.

“Playing house isn’t going to kill us,” you assure, glancing at the other customers minding their business. “We can be the absolute picture of a newlywed couple until this is all finished.”

Leon peeks up at you with uncertainty. “You’re sure about this?”

“I’m sure.”

“Right,” Leon breathes out, folding his hands and leaning forward on his forearms, fixing you a look that says he's settled on a decision about something. “Just for now.”

The store owner comes by, placing your drinks in front of you and a few paper bags with what you’d ordered. He sends a not-so-subtle wink at you, saying, “It was nice meeting you guys. You keep him in line, alright?”

You giggle and poise yourself in a way that makes you nothing but innocent. “I always do, don’t I?”

“To some degree,” Leon mumbles under his breath, taking a sip of the coffee he’d chosen.

Your thoughts clear when you get proper food in your stomach and you finally gain enough sense to properly take in the café you'd found yourself in. It's definitely small, with only a few tables being occupied including you and Leon, but the service seemed nice enough. There's no time to let your guard down, though, so you shift in your seat and clear your throat, getting Leon's attention.

“So Williams’s place is just a couple blocks away,” you begin. “He’s the operator of exports and imports of the J.I.E. so he was absolutely vital within their operations.”

Leon busies himself with taking a bite out of the banana bread he'd gotten. Did he even really like it? “Did you have to encounter him often?”

The question leaves a bad feeling rolling in your chest so you choose to avoid making any more trouble than what was necessary.

“Not much,” you say. “He’s good with his words, though. You’ll want to be careful if we do happen to see him since he knows both of our faces.”

“He’d attack us in broad daylight?” Leon’s brows furrow.

“No,” you shake your head, sipping on your own drink as you try to form a way to explain it to him. “Agents in the J.I.E. are trained especially in stealth so if I were to hazard a guess, he’d have someone stalk us and then send an assassin to put us out of the big picture."

"Is that what they did with you?"

You tilt your head, trying to think since it's been a good while since you were on a rookie's level. "I was taught a little more than just typical stealth. I was only dispatched to your location once they knew I could get myself out of a tight situation effectively."

Leon hums, leaning back in his seat and giving you another look that you can't discern. "I see."

The question rolls off your tongue before you have the sense to stop it. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're trying to find something, but you can't." He's never done that before when you'd been fighting. It's frustrating, knowing that even though you've picked out his mannerisms on a microscopic level, you couldn't catch it all.

Leon blinks before leaning back forward and saying lowly, "Maybe I am looking for something, but you're not letting me find it."

What?

"What's that supposed to mean?" You huff, folding your arms across your chest. Instinctively, your thumb rubs circles on your upper arm. "C'mon, Leon. When are you going to stop being so cryptic and just give me a straight answer?"

"I could do that," he muses, crumbling up his now empty paper bag, "but, it's more fun not to. You're a smart girl–you can figure it out."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere with me, Kennedy."

"I'm not trying to flatter you."

The two of you come at a standstill as you try to decipher whatever puzzle he thought would be funny to put you in and he waits patiently for your answer. This whole rivalry between the two of you was a battle of the minds just as much as it was of strength when actually fighting, but this has to be one of the most confusing things you had to unravel about him. When he wanted to, Leon really could be an enigma.

He holds his emotions close to his chest–you know that much.

People have recounted that he's charismatic and charming, though you've seen less of that side and more of the stone-faced agent who doesn't let any of his internal feelings show. You only know this because you'd been trained to do the exact same thing. Thinking about it, the J.I.E. had just been building you up to be someone who could stand up against someone of Leon's caliber, and the realization that you really were just a weapon in their eyes makes your whole mood sour.

"We have to get a move on," you interrupt the tension and put an end to your small staring contest. "We should get this visit over with as fast as possible."

Leon frowns, not used to seeing you give up so easily but shuffles from his seat to follow you out of the booth. The two of you throw away your trash and push back out into the blinding sun that causes you to shield your eyes, looking around and finding a gap in the crowd to start moving in. Leon trails close behind, his hand brushing yours as he fits himself next to you in the sea of bodies.

Your heartbeat quickens for a moment and you wonder why his touch suddenly burns in a good way.

You make your way past the multiple stores looking for the familiar sign that you'd seen before while watching your surroundings. Even though the city isn't the largest you've ever been in, it's still pretty big and the buildings stretching up to touch the sky aren't anything to play around with. The air is still cold but with the peak of the sun, it provides a source of heat to combat it.

When a certain sight catches your attention, you glance back to Leon and point at the building. "There it is."

You break away from the crowd with him hot on your heels as you approach the automatic sliding doors. The rush of warmth from the temperature outside is a blessing, and you adjust yourself to your surroundings. It seems to be just an average clothing department, though you're determined to figure out if it was anything more than that, which was highly likely.

You and Leon had agreed that you should do your shopping here so that you could knock it out within the day before washing it at the hotel's laundry room unless you get caught. It's a low possibility, but a possibility nonetheless, so you resolve to be extra careful as you stray towards the women's section and start picking out clothes.

You stay simple with some t-shirts, a couple pairs of pants and shorts, socks, and a pair of shoes. An employee catches you browsing and she makes her way over, looking between you and Leon before her eyebrows raise at the sight of him.

"Hello," she greets overtly enthusiastically. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

She's talking to him more than she is to you, but it's not something that concerns you really. At the most, she'd ask for his number and he'd give her some burner digits before you left.

"I think we've got it all handled, thanks," Leon answers, and you can feel him keeping an eye on you as you pretend like you're looking for something you like even though you have enough outfits to last a week.

"Good!" She says, pausing awkwardly before speaking again. "I'm sorry, you're really good looking. Has anybody ever told you that?"

"Some, I guess."

"Well–um–can I get your number? If your friend doesn't mind, I mean."

You catch his eye and the discomfort in his expression is evident. You understand why, what with the employee coming incredibly strong onto him for a stranger who just thought someone looked nice. Sparing him some grace, you move closer just enough for him to use you as a scapegoat if he wanted.

He takes your incredibly subtle hint immediately.

"This is actually my wife," Leon rushes out, a little too fast if you were critiquing him, but you can't fault him for it. "We're here on vacation."

You give her a little wave, and her eyes latch onto your hand where absolutely no ring lies on your bare ring finger.

"Oh," she says flatly, all of the false bravado she built up wilting immediately though her disappointment is shadowed over quickly by the customer service facade. "Right, sorry. Then you guys should go to the Silver Orchid. It's a fancy restaurant around here that makes for a good date spot so I'd recommend going."

"We'll look into it, thank you.” You smile and she falters.

"Okay, well, let me know if you guys need any help," she says and walks away, going faster than the usual gait.

Once she's out of ear shot, you hear Leon mumble. "Thank you."

"Of course." The earnesty in your own words surprises you. "Should we start investigating?"

"You don't want anything fancy?" He asks, motioning vaguely in the direction of the portion of the women's section that held dresses, skirts, and flowy tops. There was really no reason to dive into it.

"I don't really need that kind of stuff," you frown, confused as to why he was asking.

Leon, for the first ever time in all the years you've known him, is flustered. "Well it looks like I'm treating you to dinner tonight, so…"

You stare at him in wonder, mouth dropped open in slight amazement at the tension lying in his shoulders and the way his skin reddens with embarrassment. Never before have you seen him like this and if you didn't know any better, you might've thought he really was asking you out on a date. He wouldn't ask you of all people, though, so why he'd ever want to go out pretending to be your husband more than he needed to baffles you.

Perhaps he just wanted to make the most of his actual vacation. That made sense.

Right. That must be it. There was absolutely no other reason for him insisting shyly to go to dinner at a fancy restaurant that couples frequented, and there was definitely no reason that him insinuating this fact made your palms clammy and your stomach flutter like those romance novels always talked about with the butterflies.

"You're sure about this?" You ask, parroting his question from earlier when he asked if you really were okay with posing as a married woman. "We can just hit a pizza place on the way back or order something at the hotel, you know."

He doesn't meet your eyes, which is uncharacteristic of him. 'I'm sure."

Softening, you feel vulnerable in a way you haven't felt ever since he stitched up your back–maybe even more so now. "Alright. You'll have to spend a couple extra so I can doll myself up properly."

"You know money's not an issue."

"I know, but I just wanted you to know."

What was happening? What happened to hating him to the point of being ready to shoot him as soon as your finger got to lay on a trigger? What happened to heated words and fighting viscously and being ready to cut each other's throats open whenever there was a chance for it? Sure, you had agreed on civility, but you're pretty sure a peace treaty didn't involve going out on faux dates and feeling things you shouldn't.

When did this all change? When did this all shift?

Has saving your life really been the turning point in this situationship?

You ponder over these questions as you go through the dresses in your size. There were multiple in a myriad of colors in a variety of shades that you couldn't even name, and they were all cut in different shapes and unique designs. However, you really couldn't think straight enough from being torn between picking something nice and wondering about the things you were feeling when Leon unknowingly left you in torturous suspense.

"You'd look good in this one."

His voice pulls you from your wandering and you look up to see him tugging on a navy blue number that wasn't too flashy and wouldn't show off much of your back. It could easily be remedied with a cardigan, and he had a point that it was a very pretty dress.

"You think so?" You ask, shuffling through the hangers until you find it in your size. It's nothing you've never worn before and a slit is revealed in the side that would trail up to your thigh. You've worn more revealing things before, but this is the first time you’ve done it for something that isn’t necessary to the mission.

"Yeah," he agrees. "You should go try it on, and maybe try and see if there's anything in the dressing rooms that piques your interest."

Oh, that smartass.

"You're right," you murmur. "They might be hiding something in there, huh?"

"Couldn't hurt to check."

You pick up a black cardigan that would fit with the whole outfit along the way before finding the dressing rooms, picking one at random, and getting into one of the small cubicles. You're alone with nothing but the soft glow of the lights that surround the full-length mirrors that show off every angle of the body needed.

First and foremost, you touch around the walls for any possible hidden panels, but you come up empty handed. As far as you know, activation mechanics could be hidden anywhere but perhaps that's not what they used here. You check the hooks which turn out to be just an average rack screwed into the wall, and find your last resort in the mirror panels.

You tug on the bottom of the central main panel and it gives away to your surprise.

There's a steel door hidden behind it with a thick gry block affixed next to the handle. The metal is warm and faintly, you can feel the hum of some sort of electricity going on behind it. Whatever they were hiding here, it sounded complicated and big, and there's no telling what was behind it. You make a mental note about it as you close the panel back and make sure it was firmly reattached.

You nearly walk out of the room before realizing that the dress you’d picked up was still hanging innocently on the hook.

A frown makes its way onto your face with uncertainty, insecurity rolling in your chest before deciding to give in. It’s been a while since you went out for a nice dinner since you preferred not to get pity looks ordering a table for one and dates were practically nonexistent. You’ll play along for now. It wouldn’t hurt, right?

Turns out, it hugs your figure just right and you wonder silently how for all Leon’s worth, he’s managed to pick out something that you agreed looks at least decent. The addition of the cardigan adds to the flair, making you something dark and mysterious, and your imagination provides a candid shot of you and Leon side by side clad in navy blue hanging on each other’s arms.

He’d look good in a suit.

You hurry to change back into your previous attire, cheeks flushing as if someone had caught you fantasizing about something you shouldn’t be. Making a mental note to pick up a pair of fancy shoes next, you make your way out of the dressing room with the dress slung in the crook of your elbow and find Leon absentmindedly browsing belts.

“You’ve fortunately got an eye for women’s fashion,” you say, and he perks up upon hearing your voice.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Have you got anything fancy enough for a date night, Mr. Kennedy?”

He seems to process the teasing lilt to your voice, blue eyes conflicted before he turns away, not looking at you as he replies, “You underestimate me, Mrs. Kennedy. Of course I’ve got something.”

Your mouth drops open, staring after him as he begins striding away, clearly intending for you to follow. Disbelief covers your expression as you trail behind him, still trying to understand what he was trying to do other than lightening the mood. Surely he wasn’t as forward as this when he really was trying to flirt with someone?

Then again, playing pretend for a mission could hardly count as flirting.

“We’ll hit shoes and make-up then go, Sound good?” Leon suggests, stopping when you don’t answer him.

He looks down at you as you shake your head slightly, clearing your overanalyzing moment and blink. “What?”

He doesn’t explain anything for a second, only giving you that soul-searching gaze again, before smiling gently as if he found a hint of what he’s been looking for. “Nothing you should worry about. C’mon, the sun will be setting by the time we get back to the hotel if we keep going at this snail’s pace.”

You nod, following behind him, eager to get out of this place so you could safely tell him what you’d found in the dressing room out of earshot of any potential enemies. Well…you also might be entertaining the idea of getting to know him better over some good food.

And outside, the persistent ice finally begins to melt.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

It's been a long while since you had dealt with makeup, fancy outfits, and elegant things.

For a good while, you had nothing that was ever soft or fragile, but rather your training had hardened you and roughened your personality around the edges so much that they had sharpened into something dangerous. You were an agent, meant to live a secret life in the shadows gaining information for your bosses, and survival was the key term to your success. Fragility wasn't an option, and your looks didn't matter when bruised and bloody out on the field.

However…this hasn't ever hurt anyone.

When you and Leon had returned to the hotel suite with arms full of shopping bags and aching feet, you took hold of the bathroom to resign yourself to doing your preparation of your look in there. A hot shower was the perfect distraction from the heart beating strongly in your chest in anticipation of what may happen tonight, and your fluttering nerves weren't any help either.

A shame to say that the makeup brushes felt foreign in your grasp and it takes a moment to remember what everything did and what they were used for.

It comes to you eventually, and you fall into a vaguely nostalgic and familiar routine as you pick through all your products carefully and choose what you'll use. Going for a natural look with accents to pop, you steady your shaking hands and lose yourself in the delicate motions of dolling yourself up. It doesn't look bad at all for someone who hasn't touched this stuff in years.

The dress comes next, and when you slip it on, you feel like a whole new person. Even just standing barefoot in the bathroom only halfway done with your whole set, it already feels like you could forget about the life you're leading. Maybe for tonight, you and Leon could be normal for once without any bioweapons or governmental duties or even feuds. For tonight, you could be whatever you wanted.

With this new mindset, you heat up a flatiron and wait patiently to spruce up your hair. There was no need for any intense changes, but just a touch up went a mile and once you'd gotten it to where it flowed with the look, you hair sprayed it and let it sit. All that was left was the shoes and once you had those on, you'd be ready. Some small part of your thoughts wonder what Leon would think of your whole get up.

When you step out, the cool air hits you, but it's not wholly uncomfortable.

Leon turns around when he hears you exit, and he's in a simple navy button-up paired with slacks that probably cost more than your salary. Your face reddens when he doesn't hide the way his eyes rack up and down your form, taking in this new version of you like sweetened honey on his tongue.

"You look good," he murmurs, almost as if in a daze. "Really good."

His words make that simmering fire in your gut rise like a title wave and every sense gets cranked to a hundred. Sparks travel along your skin as you manage to keep your composure and not melt.

"You don't clean up too bad yourself, Kennedy," you reply, despite your head swimming with shameful thoughts of how damn good he looks when he's not in sweats. It's unfair dealing you these cards when you're supposed to hate him.

You pass by to grab shoes and go to check yourself in the mirror, bending down to adjust the straps before standing straight and looking at your reflection. You really did look like a whole different person. A faint feeling of pride pulses in your chest and you turn to ask Leon if it was really okay, but the change in your position makes your small rare smile fade.

Without the cardigan, the scars are on full display for anybody to see and pick through. The rosy filter falls away and you're left with the brutal reality of what you really are–that this is all temporary no matter how much you avoided returning to the truth.

Your eyes can't seem to tear away from the view of your back, pulling all of your attention away from Leon, and you don't even notice when his reflection joins by your side in the mirror.

"Hey," he murmurs, earning a faint flick of your eyes toward him in recognition. "None of that, okay?"

"But-"

"But nothing," he says firmly, and the words of protest die on your tongue. "C'mon. You look great."

"What's the catch?" You ask sullenly, snatching up your cardigan and throwing it over your shoulders–anything to get those reminders of shame away from your vision. "You'd never compliment me without wanting something in return."

Leon shakes his head. "Nothing. I can't compliment my not-wife whenever I want?"

That pulls a huff of a laugh from you as you roll your eyes, but you know he can probably read the reluctant amusement pulling at your painted lips. Since when did he know how to lighten up your mood so easily?

"You can compliment me when we're in public and have to convince people we're actually married," you decide, moving past him towards the door. "And yet I don't even have a ring on my finger. What a shame."

"I didn't think you were interested in material goods," he comments, opening the door.

You walk out into the hallway, waiting for him to close the door and make sure it was locked. "They say diamonds are a girl's best friend."

"I thought your best friend was that magnum you almost took my eye out with."

"...You got me there."

You don't trust Leon to get there safely without crashing the car into a pedestrian so you convince him to fork over the keys once you reach the vehicle. He only pouts minimally, but eventually gets over himself after you tease him for being the optimal passenger princess. He has a map built into the screen on his dashboard so you look up the name on the search bar and find the address.

You put the vehicle in reverse and back out, pulling out of the parking space and navigating out into the city roads.

Honestly, the sunset looks just as pretty as the rise was in the morning, but this blaze lasted just a tad longer. It's so bright that you have to lower the sun visor just so that it isn't intruding into your eyes.

"I'm curious," Leon begins from your side and a spark of interest rolls in your chest. You've been doing that a lot lately, being constantly attuned to whatever he was doing at the moment and whatever he says. It's ridiculous. "How come you've never been here if it's so close to the location you left?"

You frown. "You're curious a lot."

"Sure."

"Well," you breathe in, taking the chance to switch lanes and find some small comfort in the rhythmic beat of the turn signal, "I was pretty wrapped up in work to travel too far from the lab they had me at, and vacation days were rarely given out but it was more than enough to pay the bills. My apartment was in a different direction from here in a sleepy town that was off the map."

"That sounds nice," Leon murmurs and you have to huff out a laugh at that.

"It was when I got to go. Landlords were a bit disgruntled since I was almost never home, but they got the payment from me and that's what mattered." You think about it, missing your old place already and how you'd tried to make it your own. It's not much, but it was nice enough in case anybody came over.

Nobody ever did.

"Is that something you see yourself having in the future?" Leon asks.

"What?"

"Like a home that's away from all this crap. You know, something…quiet. Peaceful."

"I'd like to think so," you shrug and toss him a sad sort of smile. "But, I never got to experience it for real so I wouldn't know."

He doesn't say anything after that and you continue down the road in a settled sort of silence. The place isn't packed that much when you arrive, and you make a mental note to pay Leon back for everything he's done so far. At the least, this was some plot to get you in his debt to cash in a favor later, but at the most, it was light charity work.

You park into a vacant spot and turn the car off, lifting the visor up and opening the door.

It's hit golden hour and it's evident when you spot Leon on the other side getting out. The small breeze sweeps his locks slightly and the glow of the sun casts him in an entirely new light. It was almost like this morning in your quiet moment at the window but magnetized and bumped to a hundred. In this setting, you think that some women would have killed to be in your spot, even if this wasn't a real date. You imagine he must have a lot of suitors at home.

It makes you wonder if he had someone waiting for him and was just playing this whole thing out for fun. Maybe you were just his weekly entertainment for now.

You shake off that uneasy feeling and tear your eyes away, walking to the back of the car. He doesn't immediately follow, and a glance back lets you know he's staring after you as if he'd found something in you again that he'd been searching for. He still refuses to elaborate on that point, but it doesn't seem like anything to be worried about so perhaps Leon was just a naturally weird person.

"You coming?" You call back to shake him from his stupor and he ducks his head, embarrassed. You'd almost call it cute.

Almost. But you don't.

The Silver Orchid appears to be an incredibly expensive dining space, with a patio strung with strings of lights and set out with tables that were currently occupied by a few people. It's an incredibly modern black and white design complete with silver accents. When you walk up to the door, Leon pulls it open and holds it for you, and you can't stop the smile that crops up at the action.

A chandelier hangs in the entrance, and the pathways behind the host stand splits into two ways. The gentle chatter of people could be heard in the background as the sound of a soft orchestra rang out from the speakers overhead without being overbearing. Even just from here, you can see the extravagance of the building and you almost feel out of place. You almost forget you're just standing in the middle of the doorway until Leon taps your arm to remind you where you are.

The hostess greets you with a genuine smile–or at least much more convincing than the girl in the clothing store–and asks how many she'd be seating.

"Just two," you answer, folding your hands politely.

"Great!" She gathers up two menus and rolls of silverware before asking, "Would you like to be seated inside or outside?"

You look at Leon who shrugs helplessly.

Forming the perfect picture of a couple, you giggle and turn back to the hostess who waits patiently for an answer. "We'll take it outside."

"Perfect," she grins and waves you to follow her. "Let's go get you seated."

Outside reveals a wooden patio with floorboards that are more stable than the ones at the motel, and an aesthetically pleasing set up. Only a few people are out here, and as forewarned, most of them are couples. The hostess seats you at a table in the corner that gives off a view that isn't just parking lot and road, and assure you your waiter will be by shortly.

Before you get a chance to move, Leon pulls out your chair and allows you to sit and adjust before placing himself on the opposite side of the table.

You raise an eyebrow, slyly asking, "You really know how to show a girl a good time, huh?"

"Only ones who can treat me right." Leon slides over a menu, winking in a way that would have had you on your knees.

He's given you the same answer you had said way back in the motel when tensions were high and you'd agreed not to kill each other. You're surprised he remembers such an insignificant moment, but then again, he was Leon Kennedy–the agent who always had to be on alert twenty-four seven and wasn't allowed to let any details slip.

"Smooth," you allow, picking up the menu and glancing over it. "Jesus Christ."

The prices were insanely high for meals that were portioned incredibly well–you'd definitely be taking something to go seeing how much the pictures depicted the dishes. The numbers were making you anxious for no reason, though you felt bad that Leon would have to be paying for both you and him.

His foot nudges yours under the table. "I hope you're not thinking about what I think you're thinking of."

"I can't help it," you mumble. "You're taking most of my paychecks when we get out of this whole mess."

"Haven't I already told you money is an issue?" He asks, though it's not unkind and more bordering on a playful scold rather than him being actually irritated. You've seen him angry and this definitely wasn't it. "I'm under direct orders from the president. One of my paychecks could probably pay your rent and utility bills five times."

"Show off."

"I'm just saying," he holds up his hands as if surrendering. "Get whatever you want. When's the last time you ever did something like this?"

He has a point, unfortunately.

"I'll pay you back somehow," you insist, though in what ways, you don't know.

A waiter comes by, eyes light and smiling cheerfully. A notepad is in his hand and a sunny disposition to greet you with, he clears his throat like he was ready to recite some memorized speech.

"Hi, welcome to the Silver Orchid, folks. Can I get you something to drink to start off?"

Leon lets you order first, then chooses a beer that you purposely wrinkle your nose at. Before giving the go-ahead, he also orders a bottle of champagne and raises an eyebrow when the waiter disappears and asks, "Not a big drinker?"

"Not beer," you answer truthfully. "Tastes like fermented motor oil–but I didn't peg you to be the type to like it."

"Nah," he shakes his head. "Beggars can't be choosers, though. Hope you like champagne."

"It's been a minute. You're not trying to get me drunk and get me to spill all my secrets, right?"

He tilts his head, trying to get inside of your brain to see the way it works and what your line of thinking might be. "Whatever secrets you might have can stay yours. Maybe this is some big ploy of mine to finally get your number after all this time."

Your mouth drops open, and that smug little smirk causes that war of conflicting emotions to start warring in your chest. Leon leans forward on his forearms as his foot knocks into yours again, and it's something that strikes you as peculiar though you can't exactly place why. He's got enough spatial awareness to know where you were and definitely has enough reason to need to know what you were doing, but his advances were confusing you.

He wasn't really trying to romance you. That much had to be obvious.

Sure you both could play husband and wife all you want, but at the end of the day, you don't have a ring on your finger and you've given each other more wounds than you could count on both hands. Leon must really be letting loose if he's in a mindset that is willing to come onto you of all people.

'Believe me, you're the last person in the world I'd ever try to flirt with.' he had said.

You suppose even a broken clock is right twice a day.

"You're ridiculous, Kennedy," you roll your eyes and lean back in your seat, kicking him lightly back. "I don't even have a phone number to give you so you're out of luck."

"Ah," he mockingly sags and frowns. "I'll get 'em next time."

You snort, challenging him with a jut of your chin. "There won't be a 'next time' since you'll be distracted by the next decent-looking woman you see."

His eyes flash dangerously and a shiver rolls up your spine. You try not to show it. "Is that so?"

"I'm sure of it."

Leon doesn't get to answer since the waiter comes back with your drinks in hand and two champagne flutes alone with a dark green bottle. He sets it carefully on the table, setting to work on pouring your first glasses then taking out a notebook to take your order for meals.

You'd decided on something that wasn't too astronomically high but also just enough so that you were indulging yourself the way Leon had encouraged. Still, you can feel his gaze on you as you order before smoothly doing the same. The waiter smiles, assures you he'll be back, and takes your menu before leaving. You curiously pick up a glass of champagne, watching how the bubbles fly inside of the liquid.

"I'm surprised they had this brand," Leon mentions passively as he picks up his own flute before holding it out to you expectantly. "To truces?"

You smile and huff out a small laugh. "And to successful missions."

The glass clinks against each other sharply.

"Amen," he mumbles before bringing the flute to his lips. You find yourself staring at the action longer than you should, watching the way his mouth is shaped around the rim of the glass so minutely perfect. Your thoughts stall, wondering just how many people he's kissed with that mouth.

Would you be willing to be added to that list?

You almost drop your glass at the sudden thought, avoiding his questioning gaze as he looks back up at you. Your cheeks flush darkly as you busy yourself sipping your own champagne to avoid the obvious tension hanging in the air that asks why you were acting the way you were. Instead, you focus on the crisp bubbles popping over your tongue and hum appreciatively on the fruity taste that didn't stray to overbearing.

Your lipstick leaves an imprint on the glass.

"That's better than I remember," you say, hoping the color would drain from your face eventually. "It's been too long since I had a good proper drink."

"They really kept you busy, huh?" Leon's mouth turns down into an unsatisfied frown.

You trace the rim on your glass thoughtfully. "They did. But I got to see a lot of new places since I was shadowing you a lot."

"Yeah? Mind telling me about it?"

You search for any kind of lie in his eyes, the way you might try and see what he was hiding up his sleeve or if he was planning anything but you find no such facade. At this moment, it really feels like everything will be okay. Maybe right now, it's okay to allow him to see the person who'd been trapped under so many layers of disguise and hatred.

Somebody who loved to travel and see sights and only put her roots down when she was dead. Somebody who had no concept of home but had a love for the thrill of adventure. Somebody who couldn't possibly be trapped under contract with a company that held all her free will.

"Alright," you sigh, thinking back. "Where do you want me to start?"

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

There's nothing but rain.

Thunder rolls darkly in the sky as lightning illuminates the near-black clouds and large puddles create mirrors on the muddied ground. All around you is nothing but wet wasteland dead knotted tree roots braiding up from the ground and curling around before diving back beneath the soil. There's no green or splashes of color from wildflowers–there's just ruin and destruction.

A whispering voice invades your mind, murmuring sinisterly.

"Look at what you've done," it says. "Is this what you wanted?"

Nothing but death and decay–is that what you wanted? Was this the wish you had? You look down and find your hands coated with thick blood that does not wash away even under the sharp assault of raindrops that fall hard enough to nearly pierce through your flesh.

No matter how much you scrub, no matter how much you pray to some false god, there was blood on your hands. A fact you cannot change.

"Is this your happy ending?" The voice says this time.

You look past your bloodied fingers and find cold lifeless eyes staring up at you. They're the color of the sky, the ocean, of sapphires gleaming in dark and rough places, and you've looked into them enough times to know who they belong to. His body lays in your arms, and blood–his blood–drips down your skin.

Leon is cold. You should give him a jacket…or something to protect him from the rain.

"Why did you lie?" The whispering has risen into a tidal wave that threatens to tear you apart. "Why did you lie?! Your words meant nothing–nothing!"

"I'm sorry," you mumble and your eyes sting sharply. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry won't bring him back," you stare at yourself across the wasteland, your expression betrayed and so so angry. "Sorry won't change the fact that you killed him!"

"I didn't mean it."

"I hate you."

"I should've…" Your mind becomes detached as you look down at Leon again, and realize that he's not just cold. He's turning blue, going into rigor mortis right there under the same hands that had killed him. The tears roll from your eyes and suddenly, you can't tell what came from the rain and what came from you.

"Am I to pay for this?" The other version of you pleads, voice cracking and failing. "Am I to pay for you killing Leon?"

"Who are you?" You mumble brokenly, bringing up one of your filthy hands to caress his face that has long since gone. "What does he mean to you?"

"I'm you," they say, "and you killed the love of your life."

Thunder shakes the whole terrain enough to cause your eyes to fly open as you gasp sharply for air. Your eyes are wet and your cheeks itch with dried tear tracks as you pull yourself up to wipe them off furiously. The dream blossoms in your mind like a memory, a haunting little night flower unfurling its petals for the moonlight. What did that whole thing even mean?

The dinner last night had resolved beautifully in a way you'd never expect before. The champagne had made you lighter than ever and the food was better than anything you've ever tasted in your life. You'd exchanged stories over the bottle, sharing perspectives of missions you were dispatched on after him and for the first time ever, he felt more like a friend than someone you had fought tooth and nail to try and kill. It was wonderful, something new and fresh and exciting.

What about that could possibly herald such a horrendous dream?

You look around the room, trying to gather your bearings. Leon had insisted you take the master bed while unloading the pull-out bed the couch had inside of it. You'd been hesitant about him having such a flimsy mattress, he's reminded you that he's slept in worse places. It didn't bring much comfort to you, but you could tell he wasn't budging on the subject.

Right now, though, he wasn't in bed.

The covers had been tossed carelessly aside and the pillow had an indent of where his head must have been. You look towards the bathroom but find no light shedding underneath the door. Upon waiting for a few minutes, you don't hear the toilet flush or the sink running so you get up, padding across the soft carpet silently and carefully twisting the knob in case he really was inside and could alert you that it was occupied.

Unfortunately, no such call came.

The bathroom was empty, and the little night light inside provided just enough visibility to prove as such. Confusion spreads through your mind as you wonder where he could possibly be. Surely he wouldn't pay for a hotel suite just to leave you on your own? He wouldn't just abandon ship like that and besides, you saw his luggage still in the room when you had gotten up to investigate.

It's then that you turn around from the bathroom and realize the curtains over the sliding glass door to the balcony are drawn only slightly, making a crack where they should have overlapped. It wasn't enough to arouse suspicion under normal circumstances, but you had made sure they were drawn tight right before you'd gone to bed under the paranoia that anybody could peek in.

You quietly look through and spot Leon's shoulder just around the corner. He's not pressed up against the railing as if he were stargazing, no. His arms look to be folded tightly across his chest, body swaying as if he were talking to someone.

You reach toward and crack open the door, ears straining as their conversation becomes audible.

"You don't need to worry about her," he's saying. "You need to let this go."

"Leon," a sultry feminine voice reaches your ears and your heart flips in the cage of your ribs. "You never know. What if she's just waiting to get you close enough to kill you? What would I do without you?"

"You need to find a new trick," he sounds like he's scowling. "Ada, believe me when I tell you she's nobody. She means nothing to me."

The sting of unsaid rejection almost knocks the wind out of your breath and effectively kills anything you were planning to say. Leon moves and you get a good look at the woman he's talking to, finding her staring up at him through seductive lashes that would be enough to entrance any man.

Red flashes on her body and you think that she's enchanting enough to be a perfect match for Leon, darkness in her eyes as she looks defiantly up at him.

"Come on, Leon," she sighs. "We both know that's not true. It's not safe where she's going–you could die in that lab."

"I know."

"And yet you'll still go?"

"I have to," he grunts stubbornly. "It's a part of my duty as an agent. I expected you of all people would understand that."

"Believe me, I do," she snaps. "I just don't see why you would aid her of all people. I'm trying to help you out here."

"And I don't need it."

The two stare down in a tense silent match until Ada finally relents, backing away and pulling something out of her pocket. She shakes her head in obvious disappointment, and you think you even see a hint of sadness that he won't see her line of reasoning.

"Until next time," she promises and presses the trigger.

A grappling hook shoots out from the end of the gun and there's a moment of goodbye where Ada tugs him down to her level, pressing a chaste kiss to Leon's mouth. She backs away, hand lingering on his cheek before flying off the balcony and disappearing into the night.

You don't know how to feel as Leon stares at where she'd disappeared to.

Did he really mean it when he'd said you meant nothing to him? Why did you feel like he just tore your heart out and stomped on it until it stopped beating before spitting on it for good measure? You ache, pushing the door back closed and stepping back towards the bed. A war rages in your head, chastising you for being so dumb and mourning that he had said you meant nothing to him, though you don't have enough sense to form a coherent opinion about any of it.

You burrow back under the blankets, pretending like you were still sleeping when Leon eventually comes back in as silently as he can. You can almost feel him looking at you and you wonder if he's debating on letting old habits die hard. Maybe he'll take out a handgun and end it now. You don't have any conviction to stop him.

There's a pregnant pause before he whispers, "Did I wake you up?"

You don't answer, choosing to remain blissfully silent with a smoothed out browline to paint the perfect picture of slumber. He doesn't say anything else but only chooses to go back to bed as if nothing had happened, and the almost inaudible creak of the springs in the mattress let you know he's settled back in.

All your hope drains from your body in that moment, unhappy and feeling understandably betrayed. Even if you hadn't made up, you'd assumed you meant something to him in the same way he meant something to you when you'd been fighting. Could it be possible that you were just another side piece in his story? Perhaps Ada was his lover trailing behind him and making sure that nobody was trying to advance on him. Would she be after you now that she knew you were sleeping in the same room and playing husband and wife with him?

You weren't after him anyway. Were you? You couldn't tell after all this time. All the moments you catch yourself staring at him longer than you were supposed to and pondering what it would be like to be able to kiss him in the way she had probably meant something unless it was just the hormones speaking, though you sincerely doubt it.

You're too tired to make any sense of it.

Images of your dream flash in your mind–to his lifeless eyes and dead body in your arms, feeling a pain worse than any torture you'd been subjected to purely for the fact you knew he wasn't coming back. That you'd been the one to end him only made matters worse, and those lasting words you'd said to yourself still resonate in your head loudly.

You'd been told you killed the love of your life in that cryptic little dream of yours.

Surely he wasn't that to you. He was nothing more than an impromptu business partner at best for right now, right? But, he was so charming and knew all the ways you ticked like the back of his hand. Is that what made you nothing to him? Were you no longer mysterious and exciting enough for him to keep on going like this?

Night terrors were nothing new. They'd been a constant ever since your first mission where you'd been forced to toss a hand grenade into a crowd to stay alive, and you remember the limbs flying as the blood spattered across your skin warmly. With each new mission comes a new setting for your fucked up brain to twist every night. Some are easy to get over–easy enough that they don't affect you for the rest of the day. However, some showcase some of the most abysmally crude deaths you've ever had the misfortune of witnessing, replaying it like a radio stuck on a loop.

This? This was something new. You've never had night terrors about something that never happened.

You know this by the way Leon's breaths transition from that uneven pattern to something more steady and peaceful until he's letting out light snores that tell you he's completely under. He's alive, quite the opposite of dead, and certainly not a living flesh bag controlled by a virus or a parasite or something insane like that.

Still, uncertainty reigns in your mind.

Something bitter touches your tongue and you flinch, feeling that cold and angry feeling buzzing in your bones. Something in your mind that doesn't allow that grudge to die the way you want it to, urging you to end it all now and trying to convince you this thing either ends with you or him. You know better, but it doesn't make anything much nicer.

You close your eyes, a frown on your face and hesitancy in your heart.

Well…it was only a matter of time.