Author's note: Enjoy.
A special thank you to one of my best friends, Squall (penname: DonatienValiarde). My friend, my support, my beta, and also a source of inspiration. 3 Also, a thank you to Ada Adore--for just /being/ in the fandom; and for inspiring me to use second person. It was a nifty little experiment.
Moments
She's beautiful. Every movement she makes is far too graceful to be carried by a human. As her fingers move across your cheek, you try not to let the emotions stir in your chest, and yet they can't help but surface. Six long years. You whisper her name, but your eyes won't open. You're afraid.
Her fingers continue to move down your cheek, slowly, until they reach your lips. Still dry from Spain's autumn air, they crack as you smile. They bleed. But you don't care. You're used to pain; used to blood… and you yearn to be used to her. The only thing you react to is her touch.
You don't question how she got here. You don't question why. No, you know why. You both do. You just don't speak of it. It's best not to speak.
Ashley's sleeping a few trees away, and the two of you are huddled together between two stumps, where your sleeping bag lies. She had woken you up—your first reaction had been to press your berretta against her temple.
Upon recognizing her face, the barrel dropped and your lips met instantly. You were alive; you were alive, and the relief in her eyes was what really brought that into light. You broke apart to stare at each other, and that's when you whisper her name.
You still don't question how she got here, you don't care. You bring her head to your chest and she allows it. It feels so familiar, you can't explain it. She sighs. You can practically see her body armor melting from her skin as the back of your hands strokes her hair. Marvelling at how soft it feels.
The two of you stay like that, not talking, not moving. Just breathing, staring, feeling.
'I should go…' She whispers, but you're not listening—you choose not to hear it. Until she moves, then you hear it.
Then the words sink in. You're desperate; Raccoon floods back, those years without her floods back; yesterday. It's all too real. It's too soon. You can't take these few seconds, moments, hours; you need more.
You need something more.
'You can't leave me again, Ada…' Your voice isn't pleading, isn't begging. It's filled with affection… and loss.
'Leon, I should go.' Her voice is firm. Is it in your mind when you hear it waver?
Does she come to simply hurt you? Come and go, as if it's some sort of game? Somehow you know this isn't it, but you need answers, and Ada isn't one for questions.
You practically know nothing of her, and yet … since you met her, you've never even considered anyone else. You love her. Sometimes you think that's enough. Sometimes. The sense of fulfillment it comes with. Loving someone more than yourself. Someone besides yourself.
'Just… a few more moments…' That was all you could ever have, after all. Moments. Moments that would have to last you months, years; however long it took until you could have her back into your arms. She stayed silent in understanding. Her hands went back to caress your cheeks, and once again you closed your eyes.
You rarely had these… Moments where you feel complete. Your eyes close once more, and your arms encircle her once again. When you open them, she is gone.