Fandom: Resident Evil
Pairings/characters: Luis Sera/Ashley Graham: Very AU.
Rating: PG-13
Notes: One last giftfic for RE. Done, over 3,600 words. This story was helped by a Spanish born, fluent-speaking friend, thus the spanish phrases for Luis. Also some tiny Spain-related facts, which are placed in the story.
Summary: As I wrote this, I was thinking of the "stardust" film, a rather romantic fairytale, and placed something faintly similar; but overall, it's completely Resident Evil in subject and in conjunction with Luis and Ashley's background.
The marketplace
Luis Sera was searching for a present, something sweet, sweet enough for a girl like Ashley Graham; he had an inkling that she possessed everything she could ever buy or want, need in her young life. At that thought, Luis Sera frowned. He had gone to several department stores, was shoved aside by shoppers, crowded as it was in the market place, where the Spanish bazaar was held; the overhanging tents, covering arrays of sectional stores. Every seller who was selling whatever bazaar item selling preened their unique home made shinies in the most fashionable; stuff you couldn't find in a typical department store, and which Ashley probably—had never gone to.
Besides, if it weren't for the fact that Leon S. Kennedy had saved his ass back in Spain, he wouldn't be here alive, searching for a present. He was not ungrateful by any means, staying underground for the most part—so that the future Saddlers of this world wouldn't find him; he was responsible for hiding the knowledge that he alone knew of the virus and anti-virus that plagued an entire village. He was glad that he kept many of the serums that were calculated in his head, because everything—all his life's work was obliterated on that island and the laboratory that harbored much of his paperwork had been singed down to mere nothingness. As if he didn't exist.
Luis Sera was no more. However, he had to plan out an identity for himself, and managed to use one of the villager's sons who had been manipulated; taking the identity of a poor soul like that didn't feel as if he were doing anything wrong—if anything, there was some sort of justice done. None of those villagers were even warned of the horrors that infected their entire mundane lives.
Here he was, strolling through a market place smelling the smells of barbeque foods being sold behind open restaurants; sweet cinnamon rolls; cinnamon coated churros that brought his stomach churning with need; the soft smoky scents of calamari and seafood drifting by his nose, as he lifted his chin in the air, inhaling deep. Luis was glad he was alive, and he had to make sure to repay that Kennedy agent someday.
He went past a couple areas, where a lady in gypsy clothing, wearing long earrings, necklace with round pearl-like silver jewelry, flattened against her breasts—sat among rows of odd sized candles and incense. She wore makeup and looked to anyone passing—a seer in a modern world; although, from the way the bazaar was set up, it looked as if they had been spiraled back in time; back to when the world was still bustling to claim history and a boy named Jesus walked among humans. Luis Sera had to admit, despite his scientific background, despite everything else that said he was part of the advancing world; he was very much soaked into religion. He couldn't shake that part of him, the part where his family had taught him the beginnings of Christmas.
Luis Sera glanced up towards the sky, searching for the north star, and found to his chagrin, the blasted satellite staring at him between white washed clouds. It was nearing dark, but the sky lent a hint of pink and a mesh mash of darkening blue. He faintly felt sad, thinking of his own family that he couldn't go back to. He would be found out, all the organizations that were part of the grand scheme of things: vying for the new pharmaceutical concentrated drug that would change the course of the entire world: and, in this case, one small village or city at a time.
The woman was eyeing him from under the tent, her long hands caressed the globe before her."Señor," she purred, her lips thick with red, eyes lined with the darkest kohl, "You are distressed, i feel your pain. Is it a certain lady you wish to impress?" She was by no means Spanish or traced any heritage in that vein, along with a voice that spoke too Germanic in tone.
He was startled, but then caught himself, "Si, senorita," he smiled, reached up with one hand fully ringed, to push the long brown strands away from his eyes, "I am not so distressed, though I find myself confused at the display of so many items in which I do not think I shall find the gift that would surprise someone special."
"Ah," she purred, the clanking of her necklace moved as she dipped close, the flimsy gown she wore fluttered, marking a thinly veiled material, "she really IS special," as she looked into her crystal ball.
At that, Luis nearly wanted to roll his eyes, but found that sort of gesture too rude for words. "Yes, and she's I'm afraid very young," he sighed, "but" he warned, hoping to waylaid the eyes that widened under her veil, "not so young that she's not of age," he chuckled, "I'm not such an ungentlemanly lout; that that would be—.."
He was instantly cut off, presented in his hand, against his chest a small package, "Here!" the woman said, almost too eager, "This is for you, and for your little lady friend. This should be something of value, and one that I guarantee would make an exciting present for someone so special."
Luis was perplexed, holding the package within his grasp: the crumpled brown bag was insulting enough, and withholding a groan, he respectfully looked inside, "What…what is this?"
"Just let her wear it," she said, then closed herself off by turning to another customer who had wandered by.
Luis shook his head, pulled the jacket close, over himself to keep from feeling the cold caress of the winter wind. His cowboy styled boots clicking over the cobbled stone market place, wet stones greeting his shadowy form from every angle. He would buy something simple, not having much money for access since his so-called death, and would take the cab towards the country home address she had given him over the internet weeks ago. They had conversed over the net since then, and sometimes, if she was able to, get some time to call him over the phone.
It was going to be a long night, and Luis managed to buy something else as default—he couldn't just give this to the President's daughter. What would she think? That he's a lowlife scum? He shook his head, naw—he told himself that she's not that type of girl—despite her very educated and dignified background. She would understand, because he was a man who had come back from the dead.
When he reached Ashley Graham's home, she was already there, waiting for him. If there was one other person in world that knew of his existence, besides that of Kennedy and perhaps his superior officer--or those he worked under, it was Miss Graham. She had given her word, upon her honour never to reveal such secrets, and it occurred to Leon that perhaps Ashley wouldn't be inclined to tell even her father, the President of the U.S.
She never liked to keep things from her father, but even the horrors she had experienced back on the island and on that horrid village-- rummaging through the caverns deep below the castle; trekking through hallowed halls dampened by mould and age in the once resplendent Castillo Salazar --sent her waking in a cold sweat.
Her clothing for the evening was something she picked out after spending hours upon hours searching for the right ensemble. Finally choosing something pumpkin coloured, rich in autumn on her skirt, short as the one she wore when she met Luis; and her sweater, though not similar, was cashmere soft and powder blue, the long sleeves hung slightly so that when she was reaching over to hug the long awaited Spanish researcher, they fell towards the elbows, scrunching up. Her stockings were of the same colour, lightened blue, almost bleached, and were of thick material to match the occasion of the cold weather. The shoes she wore were of a common brown colour; and she thought that since the ensemble looked rather fetching with a pair of cowboy related shoe-wear, it wasn't too bad looking in the mirror.
He was happy to see her, and was a bit hesitant to hold her tight, still wary of public press that should suspiciously hide themselves behind a generous bush which surrounded her stately home. She was not staying at the White House for Christmas night, but at one of the country homes her father owned. The night before, on the eve of the holiday's celebration, she had been busy with her family there in the D.C. area, exchanging gifts and having to suspend much of her time thinking about the next day. The next morning she was whisked away, before having her breakfast, having dined only on the plane to the country house so that she may prepare for Luis's arrival.
"Luis!!" she squealed happily, the candles inside the home filled with the scent of vanilla and cinnamon, gave the hall interior a yellow warm glow. Ashley Graham was delighted beyond anything, having been through the ordeal of a terrible experience not suited for anyone of her ilk, and though she was pressing herself eagerly against him, she felt him reach over and hold her just as tight.
This pleased her immensely, and as she withdrew to look into his brown familiar eyes, sad eyes they were—she noted, dark circles marred them with an almost gaunt face, though still handsome in her eyes, "Luis, you haven't been eating well, have you?"
And as if the words felt as if she were a motherly hen, she gasped, "I'm sorry! I'm just—.." The nervousness ticked inside, despite that she hadn't let go of him and he of her, they were standing in the threshold of her wealthy country home, underneath the mistletoe.
"No, that's okay, querida mía, I am eating fine, it's just that I don't sleep all too well.." and it was true, because the nightmares were still there, even if he were a man too hardened by such trivial things such as viruses that made a mere human into cattle, or had seen monsters too powerful for even ancient sea serpents of its time. But here he was, holding Miss Graham and he wondered if he were a little too forward.
"Yes, you're right, I still have nightmares myself," she confessed, her hazel eyes wet under the waning outside light, "it's been so horrible, I can't even sleep properly since then, but I've been going to therapy sessions, something my father suggested I go under after the entire ordeal." Her face brightened, "You should do it as well!"
"I'm okay, really, but, are you alone tonight?" He probably sounded too pervy, but it wasn't his intention; though, the thought was tempting, seeing her like this, so eager and so beautiful. Yes, he had thought that the little Miss Graham was quite stacked for the President's daughter and she didn't skimp out on her ensemble tonight either. Small of waist, that both his hands could wrap tightly around them and touch the fingers.
"Look above, Luis." She said, the mischievous glint shining in her eyes, "you're being quite rude…"
"I am?" he told her in a teasing manner, looking up once, "I see that you've prepared something quite delicious for me, and I thought that we were going to exchange presents inside."
"Stop and do as the mistletoe says!"
And he couldn't say no, so he lowered his lips to hers, meshing them until she was driving her tongue inside, mumbling sweet words and chanting his name, "Luis, Luis, Luis…."
When they finally came up for breath, she drew him inside, closing the door behind them. Luis was impressed at the decorative way she had given the interior of the home: the candles in golden lanterns and upon iron metal fancy grating stood on ornate stands, and the way the banister curving up to the second floor was decorated with wrapped clear tubing surrounded with lights, alternating and flicking on and off just like a Christmas tree filled with sparkling lit colours.
"You've outdone yourself, Miss Graham," he whistled through his lips, and bowed slightly, "if I had known that I was visiting a young lady of such taste and such class, I would have brought you the finest jerez from the stronghold of my former father's home, which to my dismay, isn't around any more," Luis ended with a somber note, his eyes looked darker than before, the shadows giving him a gaunter appearance of someone who had escaped death and death would claim him at another time.
She laughed, "Oh no, I had other people work on the house before you came." She allowed herself a little giggle, "I couldn't possibly do all these things, and I'm horrible at decorating!"
"Ah well," he chuckled, "perhaps there are other areas in which you are quite talented, I'm sure,"
Ashley pulled him inside the living room, where the waiting fire place greeted him with a golden light and a pleasant smell of sage and burnt fresh wood, the sofa lined with the softest material—one in which he was able to sink himself in, tired from the long walk from the front gate, and tired from the day's shopping.
After pushing him down upon the most cozy of sofa's, giving him the most genial smile, she left the room and came back immediately with a tray of two hot mugs of chocolate and some biscuits, "Something to tide you over before we start on the dinner! My chef has made us something Spanish!"
"Oh, querida mia, you didn't!" he joked, eyeing her with that wicked look in between teasing and faint surprise, "Because it's been so long since I've tasted my country's home cooked meal, straight from the hands of a professional chef," and he gave her a grin, his arms spread over the sofa, legs propped up on what looked like the furriest stool around; it gave Luis the suspicion that it too would miraculously walk away any moment.
"Tacos, burritos, and churros aren't on the menu!" Ashley offered primly, handing over the cup of steaming chocolate, "it's from the best chocolate ever."
"I am whetting my appetite already, Miss Graham." He told her, his eyes held the same wicked gleam over the rim of the cup, and indeed was impressed by the taste of the chocolate warm liquid that passed through his lips, "mmmmm delicious, I hope there is more of this after dinner!"
"Anything for you, Luis," she said, faint and soft, "I've really missed you, and seeing you here in the flesh—wow—it gives me the chills when I think—when I think of how you must have endured so much back there."
"What of you, Miss Graham," he pointed out, "A president's daughter in the middle of no where Spain, caught up in some kind of conspiracy where the war of good and evil resided, no wait—the war of all evil resided!"
"Must you be so dramatic?" She rolled her eyes, "I'm fine, because Leon was there,"
"Yes. Leon." Luis cleared his throat, "speaking of which, he has been assigned as your body guard again?"
He hoped he didn't look too jealous.
She shook her head, "yes, and no," swallowed, "I did want him to keep protecting me, but he had other missions, other things to attend to, and I don't blame him as he's the most, absolute bravest man…" then stopped herself, smiling, "Next to you, he's one of the bravest men I've ever met and have known."
"Enough of that Kennedy, he's always stealing the limelight; let us talk about us, and speaking of which, my Miss Graham, I have a gift!" And seeing the way her eyes lit up, he was happy to produce a small pretty package out of his sweater jacket pocket, "I just hope it's enough."
Ashley picked it up between nervous hands, not realizing that this moment, here with Luis made her feel especially happy, and was glad that she was an adult; an adult to tell her father that she was going to have a special dinner with a special friend and she didn't want anyone to disturb her. Of course, this didn't mean that her bodyguards were on vacation, as some of them were stationed outside the country home. She was adamant that the body guards were not to be seen, so that they wouldn't spook her special guest.
The package was wrapped in foiled gold, and a ribbon of see through material sparkled with glitter and silver lining. Pulling on the ribbon, she eagerly and easily took the package within her hand, seeing the box there.
Blinking, she lifted the lid and saw a miniature glass ballerina, the slender figurine dainty and polished. She kept blinking back the tears, "Oh it's lovely, Luis…" almost choking, immediately brightened, hazel eyes wide: "I got you something too!"
She took out the big package from under the table where the golden coloured material covered, handing it over with glee, "it's not much, but I hope you like it."
He was the one surprised, "Oh but, Ashley, you shouldn't have, really you shouldn't, but I thank you nonetheless. Any thing from you is going to stay with me till my dying day." And he said this with his ringed hand on his chest, as if making a pact with her.
When he opened the package, it was filled with surprise gifts: fine Spanish sangrias, chocolates packaged in fine boxes, a sweater that was knitted with the words, "the best man in the world," which sent a raised brow at Ashley; and the bottled olives, green and black; the envelope containing tickets for two to a ski-mountain lodge for the winter, accompanied with knitted cap, a pair of knitted gloves, and ski pants, looking familiar in size. He smirked at that.
"I don't know what to say," and he was indeed a little taken aback from all the presents, "this is a bit too much and me—I had given you such a little.."
"No.." she whispered, "no, it's not how much you give, but the thought behind it, right?" then she felt hypocritical, after seeing how much she gave him, and added, "I can afford all this, Luis, but you—you have so much heart…"
"Ok okay!" he lifted his arms up, "I get it," he chuckled, "I see that you've given me tickets for two to a ski lodge, and you're the person I'm taking?"
"You better take me, or else!" She said this with a conviction and arms on her hips, "Come on, let me take your jacket off and hang it, I want us to have a wonderful dinner."
When she took his jacket, a brownish dull crumpled bag fell out of his jacket, and onto the floor. She picked it up and said, "What's this?"
"Oh, that's nothing…" He said, almost too afraid to tell her, because it would be worse to realize that something so menial would even please a girl like Ashley.
And because she was curious, she looked in, "A pink ribbon?"
He shrugged, "yeah, a funny thing happened on the way to the market," he watched her, hoping that she would listen with some apt attention.
"Yeah? Tell me." She was already pulling and stretching at the ribbon, placing it on her hair, "is it for someone?" then her hazel eyes lit up, "for me?"
"It was supposed to be for you, but the lady who gave it to me didn't say anything else, and she was one of those gypsy fortune tellers."
"Oh those!" Ashley fingered the ribbon, finding the satiny feel very pleasant, "What is it for I wonder, and maybe it's a wish I should make.."
"You can try, but I hardly doubt anything would come out of it, I being a man of science believe in no such things; however, it can be quite interesting to be amused by such trivial objects that are beyond the scientific mind. And believe me, so much has happened in the course of that horrible incident on the island; making me a believer of so much, but not of magic or future fortune."
"I wish," Ashley closed her eyes, her hand on Luis's hand, "that you and me would go to a magical land far far away, where there are no ghosts from the past to haunt us."
She opened her eyes, and found to her dismay that the ribbon didn't work that way.
"Ah well," she sighed, "there's dinner, smell it?"
Indeed he did, and was already salivating, "Oh yes. I'm very hungry and I cannot wait for what your chef has prepared!"
"Come on, Luis," she giggled, snaked her arm around his, led him down the hall and into the great big dining room. The sounds of Christmas music drifted from the kitchen, filling the rooms with echoes of the season's touch.
From the distance, the pink ribbon was left alone on the coffee table; it fluttered lightly as if there were a breeze blowing in the room.
The couple didn't realize that their wishes would come true, and has already started.
--the end.
notes: Jerez is a type of wine popular in Spain; it is stronger than typical Spanish wine, sort of like a Sherry. Sangrias are popular drinks there, more so than chocolate drinks; however I used the chocolate flavoured drinks in the story for I don't disbelieve a man like Luis would disagree of anything Ashley gave him; Ashley's sweet, generous nature is in this xmas fic, infectiously delicious for him.