ADA WONG

Lately, Ada’s career has been slowing down. After a lifetime of clawing her way up to the top no matter how ugly, she had finally realized just how much time she wasted doing so.

She’s stopped taking most simple contracts, instead opting to take riskier, high-paying ones so they would become less frequent.

This leaves her with a lot of free time— and it certainly isn’t something she’s used to. She rarely had the time to stop and think before, and now she has the time for… anything, really. She doesn’t know how to spend it.

It’s how she finds herself on the rooftop of this apartment building, leaning over the railing. Her nose is pink from the cold night air, the lower third of her face and her hands disappearing into her maroon turtleneck sweater.

So much of her youth was wasted away, and now that she has an opportunity to do… well, anything…

She has absolutely no idea what to do with herself.

She feels ridiculous, and she’s glad she’s alone so that no one else is able to see her like this.

At least, she was alone— up until she heard the echo of someone’s footsteps coming up the stairwell.

Ada doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even look back. She just stays leaned over the railing, lost in her own head.

The footsteps are familiar. Light. Deliberate. The kind he could pick out of a hundred others.

"...Figured I'd find you up here."

He doesn't walk beside her immediately. Instead, he stops a few feet away, resting his forearms against the opposite stretch of railing. Close enough that she isn't alone. Far enough that she doesn't have to acknowledge him if she doesn't want to.

The city glows beneath them, alive in a way neither of them has ever really been allowed to be.

"I've been thinking..."

A quiet breath escapes him.

"I don't actually know what you like."

His eyes stay on the skyline.

"I know how you take your coffee."

"I know you hate it when people touch your things."

"I know you can clear a room before anyone realises you were ever in it."

The corner of his mouth twitches.

"...But I don't know what you'd do on a Tuesday if nobody needed something from you."

He finally glances sideways.

"I don't know your favorite movie."

"Or if you have one."

"I don't know what music you listen to when nobody else is around."

Another pause.

"I don't think anyone's ever really asked."

His voice is softer now.

"...Maybe that's what happens when you spend your whole life surviving."

He shrugs one shoulder.

"You wake up one day..."

"...and realise you never got the chance to figure out who you are when nobody's pointing a gun at you."

Silence settles between them.

"...For what it's worth..."

"I don't think there's anything ridiculous about not knowing."

She isn’t surprised Leon found her. He always does.

She just… listens. She leans against the railing, watching the cars zoom past, noting how everything feels so much bigger when she’s down there and looks so small when she’s up here.

She feels a mix of emotions.

She’s endeared by this display of… whatever it is. At the same time, she’s grieving the fact that they’ve been chasing each others shadows for so long without even knowing such simple things about each other.

Perhaps the biggest emotion she was feeling, is the fear that once he finds out all of these things, he’ll realize that she isn’t worth chasing at all.

Still, she’s left him hanging for long enough.

For twenty-seven years, to be exact.

“… I don’t know what my favorite movie is,” she answers. “Maybe I would spend a Tuesday finding out.”

She goes quiet again for a while.

“I like to listen to jazz. Artists like Chet Baker… Ella Fitzgerald; I’ve recently discovered Madeleine Peyroux on a… business trip to France.”

She doesn’t even realize how much she’s talking until she looks over at Leon and he looks completely awestruck. His eyes shine so bright and beautifully that it makes her freeze like a doe caught in headlights.

"Chet Baker?"

He says it like he's trying the name on for size, committing it to memory before it has the chance to disappear.

"...I'll have to listen."

A small smile finds him.

"I've mostly just got old rock records."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Springsteen. Tom Petty. Matchbox Twenty."

A quiet laugh escapes him.

"...Guess that makes me sound older than I already am."

His eyes drift back to her.

"You've been carrying all that around..."

He doesn't mean the music.

"...And nobody's ever asked."

His chest aches in a way he can't explain.

Not because it's sad.

Because it feels... sacred.

Like she's handed him something no one else has ever been trusted with.

"...Thank you."

It's barely above a whisper.

"I know it probably doesn't feel like much."

"But..."

His smile softens, warmer now.

"...I don't think you understand how happy it makes me."

He looks back out across the city.

"So..."

A beat.

"If Tuesday's for finding things out..."

"...Maybe next Tuesday we put one of your jazz records on."

"And I'll make dinner."

He glances sideways at her, almost shy.

"You can tell me which songs are your favourites."

She’ll make sure not to ever forget.

It’s sweet to see him open up about himself for one— but just as fast as he did, he turns his attention back to Ada, too enamored for his own good.

As he revels in the idea of her letting him in, even if only through the names of a few music artists, Ada instead revels in the pure joy he seems to be wearing with that smile, a smile that finally reaches the eyes for once.

She listens to his suggestion. When he glances at her, she’s almost shy, too.

They’ve shared many moments of intimacy. Seen each other bare after a particularly stressful series of events plenty of times.

But this moment… this tenderness, this innocence that they sit in… this seems like the most revealing of all.

“You’ll make dinner?” she remarks with a playful grin.

“Can you be trusted in the kitchen? That’s a lot of dangerous, hot surfaces condensed into one small area.”

Leon, her clumsy love…

Lately, Ada’s career has been slowing down. After a lifetime of clawing her way up to the top no matter how ugly, she had finally realized just how much time she wasted doing so.

She’s stopped taking most simple contracts, instead opting to take riskier, high-paying ones so they would become less frequent.

This leaves her with a lot of free time— and it certainly isn’t something she’s used to. She rarely had the time to stop and think before, and now she has the time for… anything, really. She doesn’t know how to spend it.

It’s how she finds herself on the rooftop of this apartment building, leaning over the railing. Her nose is pink from the cold night air, the lower third of her face and her hands disappearing into her maroon turtleneck sweater.

So much of her youth was wasted away, and now that she has an opportunity to do… well, anything…

She has absolutely no idea what to do with herself.

She feels ridiculous, and she’s glad she’s alone so that no one else is able to see her like this.

At least, she was alone— up until she heard the echo of someone’s footsteps coming up the stairwell.

Ada doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even look back. She just stays leaned over the railing, lost in her own head.

The footsteps are familiar. Light. Deliberate. The kind he could pick out of a hundred others.

"...Figured I'd find you up here."

He doesn't walk beside her immediately. Instead, he stops a few feet away, resting his forearms against the opposite stretch of railing. Close enough that she isn't alone. Far enough that she doesn't have to acknowledge him if she doesn't want to.

The city glows beneath them, alive in a way neither of them has ever really been allowed to be.

"I've been thinking..."

A quiet breath escapes him.

"I don't actually know what you like."

His eyes stay on the skyline.

"I know how you take your coffee."

"I know you hate it when people touch your things."

"I know you can clear a room before anyone realises you were ever in it."

The corner of his mouth twitches.

"...But I don't know what you'd do on a Tuesday if nobody needed something from you."

He finally glances sideways.

"I don't know your favorite movie."

"Or if you have one."

"I don't know what music you listen to when nobody else is around."

Another pause.

"I don't think anyone's ever really asked."

His voice is softer now.

"...Maybe that's what happens when you spend your whole life surviving."

He shrugs one shoulder.

"You wake up one day..."

"...and realise you never got the chance to figure out who you are when nobody's pointing a gun at you."

Silence settles between them.

"...For what it's worth..."

"I don't think there's anything ridiculous about not knowing."

She isn’t surprised Leon found her. He always does.

She just… listens. She leans against the railing, watching the cars zoom past, noting how everything feels so much bigger when she’s down there and looks so small when she’s up here.

She feels a mix of emotions.

She’s endeared by this display of… whatever it is. At the same time, she’s grieving the fact that they’ve been chasing each others shadows for so long without even knowing such simple things about each other.

Perhaps the biggest emotion she was feeling, is the fear that once he finds out all of these things, he’ll realize that she isn’t worth chasing at all.

Still, she’s left him hanging for long enough.

For twenty-seven years, to be exact.

“… I don’t know what my favorite movie is,” she answers. “Maybe I would spend a Tuesday finding out.”

She goes quiet again for a while.

“I like to listen to jazz. Artists like Chet Baker… Ella Fitzgerald; I’ve recently discovered Madeleine Peyroux on a… business trip to France.”

She doesn’t even realize how much she’s talking until she looks over at Leon and he looks completely awestruck. His eyes shine so bright and beautifully that it makes her freeze like a doe caught in headlights.

- @grapplehookgrace x

It was an unusually cold night. A storm had passed through, and Ethan's apartment was flooded, so he was in Ada's condo. The storm raged on outside, and any insulation wasn't helping.

By around 9 at night, Ethan found himself huddling in Ada's linen closet, searching for blankets. When he returned to the couch, Ada was seemingly asleep.

After forgetting how blankets work momentarily, he draped the blanket over both himself and her as he sat down.

Then her head landed on his shoulder. Ethan froze.

She nuzzled deeper. Ethan leaned his head against hers and put another blanket around the both of them.

It’s a rare occasion that she actually reaches this state anyway, considering how easily she becomes stressed out— but Ethan has come to learn exactly how to fit himself into Ada’s fucked up Tetris game of a life, and now he’s one of the few things— and the only person— that can actually relax her.

In the unusual cold of the night, turned even colder when Ethan gets up to go and grab a blanket, Ada falls asleep the moment she decides to “rest her eyes.”

She notices nothing when Ethan is back except that it’s suddenly become much warmer and more comfortable. Her head falls to the side, landing on Ethan’s shoulder.

In the far off land of her dreams, she wonders where she found a pillow so perfectly suited to her tastes.

Of course, Chet Baker’s voice— and that comforting scratch of her record player that she knows Ethan likes— is ringing through the room. His version of Jimmy Van Heusen and Johnny Burke’s “Like Someone In Love.”

Sometimes the things I do astound me,

Mostly whenever you’re around me.

This night becomes the first in years that she’s slept comfortably all the way through.

- @rxcooncityy

Ada quirks her brow, a small smirk tugging at her glossed lips.

“Settle down?”

She lets out a sharp breath from her nose in lieu of a genuine laugh.

“ I can only assume, you are pretty… enigmatic. “

He replied somberly, though there was a spark of curiosity that crossed his mind.

“ I can never seem to track you, everytime we seem to wonder into eachother, it’s… “ He paused, his eyebrows slightly furrowing as if he were trying to discover something behind a locked doorway he didn’t have the key for. “ Tied to finishing cleaning up after someone, or chasing dead-ends. “

His gaze lingered on the way her lips curved, his head tilting just barely before asking.

She can't focus on her objective if he's standing here, but she's never able to shake him off. Mostly because she doesn't really want to.

"You're feeling sentimental today."

So is she. It's been a long time since she last ran into him during one of these missions. He looks more worn down each time, but there's still that same look in his eyes that he had back in Raccoon City.

That twinkle of hope for an impossible future that he would keep fighting for anyway. Ada never understood that.

He had always risked his life for Ada without a second-thought…Thought about her on multiple occasions when the world was finally quiet. He never understood why he could never physically leave her be—even when she slipped through his fingers every time he had finally grabbed ahold of her.

Leon grunted in response about sentimentality, a playful tiny smile molding on his lips.

“ Better enjoy it while it’s still there. “ He quipped, though there was barely any energy behind his tone. Leaving only room for the weary look and the similar glint in his eyes of the rookie cop back in Raccoon.

It's dangerous. For both of them.

Distractions are something Ada can't afford. Weaknesses are something Ada can't have. And Leon is both of those things.

"You always hope for the impossible."

She tilts her head, crossing her arms over her chest, feeling too vulnerable, as if she thinks that physically blocking her heart will make it any harder for Leon to weasel his way in. She knows it won't.

It was part of the job, but the same rookie cop Ada had met still remained on the inside.

“ Nothings ever impossible…And it’s part of the job to keep holding on. “

Leon noticed Ada had crossed her arms over her chest, seeing the way she had subtly attempted to lock away her heart in hopes he wouldn’t dig deeper into it. He knew she was never one for being cornered…He wasn’t either.

He was quiet for a long moment. His weary blue eyes were staring into her black orbs—weighing his options.

She’s still dressed to the nines, of course. Still prepared for anything the world might throw at her. But she’s exhausted, and riddled with guilt for all the bad men she’s helped.

They’ve both been tangled up in this sort of business for much longer than either of them wished to— yet they both cling to this cycle. It’s the only constant they have.

His instincts and combat had only gotten better throughout the years; though he flinched whenever he heard something relatively close to the events that had ultimately destroyed his life.

He was always on his feet, and so was she. That was what made them the same. But for Leon, it was one of the only things he was holding onto.

“ Maybe it’s fate everytime we see eachother, “ He spoke, his voice low. “ A funny way of saying it. “

But it’s true. This invisible string that ties them together has never once failed at pulling them inevitably closer— and it’s a stubborn thing. One that Ada can’t cut, no matter how sharp the knife is.

She can’t escape him— and, truthfully, she doesn’t even want to.

“Fate isn’t something you and I are allowed to believe in.”

The smile on her face exhibits no joy as she looks around them, looks down at her gloved hands, at the firearm clutched in her left.

Just the pained acceptance that:

"You call it fate." Her voice softens, carrying none of its usual teasing edge. "I call it gravity."

She takes a slow step toward him, stopping just close enough to see the conflict etched across his face.

"No matter how many times we pull away, we always find each other again."

For a fleeting moment, she reaches up, her gloved fingertip brushing against the back of Leon's clenched hand in a touch so light it could have been imagined.

"But every time we do," she whispers, "someone pays for it."

Her hand slips away before he can hold it.

It happened so often that even now, as Ada stands completely still in front of him, Leon still can’t grab hold of her.

“I know that better than anyone,” Ada replies, and the taste of those words on her tongue is terribly bittersweet.

All these years, Leon has followed her into and out of every fire, not once leaving her alone in a time of need. And despite how terrible Ada is in her own head, not once has she left Leon in need, either.

Perhaps in need of her. But she’s protecting him like this. It’s better. Safer. Less risk of them being hurt more than they already had been.

“You and I still have jobs to do, Leon.”

Well. Motherhood, I suppose.

But that isn’t something for you to worry about, Eveline. The people who look after you now are good to you, aren’t they?

Hi, this is Ethan Winters.

Yes, I’m calling because of my counters.

Could I have the installment moved up? The sooner the better.

Two days from now? Perfect. Thank you.

*he shuts off his phone, then looks back at Ada.*

You can run, but you can’t hide from me, Ethan.

Well. Motherhood, I suppose.

But that isn’t something for you to worry about, Eveline. The people who look after you now are good to you, aren’t they?