A/N and disclaimer. I do not own the characters from Leon, they remain the property of their creators and the actors, so please don't sue me, I'm broke. Incidentally, if I DID own them, Mathilda would have blown up Stansfield with the ring trick, and avenged both her brother and Leon, but that's just me. :)
She is not conscious of the water hitting her skin, nor the blood flowing from her. All she is aware of right now is the voice, his voice in her head telling her there is a choice, a chance she can be saved.
She has been 'saved' before. Like Alice down the rabbit hole, birth in reverse, reborn to a normal life.
Normal.
Bleeding out your life in a tub in some nameless hotel.
The knocking is louder now ,insistent hammering...she can see the door, right down to the number, the scars in the cheap grain. 'Please open the door'...a prayer, a mantra. A small hand smoothes her hair, her brother. She tries to ask what he is doing here, tells him to run, hide, they'll be here soon but he just smiles and takes her hand. Her own is covered in blood, running away in rivulets as the water hits it, washing down the drain...
She remembers how HE used to shower when he returned from work...she would press herself against the door and feel the warmth seep through, listening as he undressed, the sound of his clothes hitting the floor, then water, the occasional soft hiss through gritted teeth as the blood washed away. His or his marks? She could never be sure and sometimes there were still minute traces in the bath, thin ribbons curling towards the drain. She remembers touching one, putting her finger to her lips, tasting...
taste of copper in her mouth...the world reduced to a jumble of lights, sounds, pain, but why does the knocking seem so loud? A voice calling for miss Montana, asking if she is alright, they have a trail of blood leading to her door, wont she let them in?...
Why is her brother still here? He watches her, smiles, takes her hand again, and she wants to tell him to go to safety, but the words wont come and she is so tired. The relentless pounding on the door, the shrill sound of the bell cuts through her like a blade and she is banging, banging on his door, begging to be let in. She can hear them coming, and she knows she must get his door open before they do, they cannot be allowed to take her away again, she has no desire to be 'saved'-to be saved is to be left behind, and she is tired of being alone...
A morning like many others, she wakes, turns to look at the man beside her...maybe boy would be more accurate...always on waking when she feels another presence in the bed there is that perfect moment when she thinks it is him holding her...then reality seeps in and she is faced with another nameless face, some sweet, some not so, some dark, some fair, but always wrong. It is more lonely waking up next to them than it is waking alone...
A key in the lock, they are here...and with them come voices, lights, reality. In her mind she can see his door, bangs on it desperately, but they are taking her, lifting her, and each movement is an explosion of agony...
Explosion. The ring trick. Blood and emptiness and utter exhaustion.
Please answer the door. I know you are there. A child's laugh, her brother again. She can almost see something behind him, but then the ambulance jolts and it is lost. Flash of light behind the door . I chose, Leon. You told me there was a choice and I chose, now open the door. Please ,open the damn door.
The light hits her face, blinding, warm. A familiar silhouette against the doorframe.
In the ambulance, blank eyes open. A body convulses, purges.
'Mathilda.'
Her name, HIS voice. Love . She is surrounded by him, engulfed.
The door closes behind her.