:::::::::::::::::SEVEN:::::::::::::::::

VII: Apocalypse

"Ex Nihilo Nihil Fit"


"Everyone, deep in their hearts, is waiting for the end of the world to come."

― Haruki Murakami, 1Q84


In the aftermath, he could feel the panties still on Ada. She'd done nothing more then move them to the side. The lacy, satiny panels of black torture brushed against his the springy hair on his groin, teasing. The silence was pregnant around them, filled with so many unsaid things. He stole wore his pants, lewdly open and down around his thighs. She still wore her top; half ripped at the neck and pulled up to show her perfectly toned belly.

It had been as she'd thought it'd be. Amazing. He was virile, clearly pent up. He fucked like a freight train, fast and desperate, nearly deliberately cruel to punish them both. She delighted in the feel of it. He would make a delicious lover and now she had him, she could feel it. She had him right in the palm of her hands. And he had her, which surprised her as well; he had her in ways she had no name for. He had her in ways she couldn't begin to define.

He lifted his head and she felt her body tighten around his softening length at the sleepy, satisfied, sated look on his face. How did he manage, after all this time, to look so soft and naive? She was aroused by his innocence just as she'd been all those years ago when they'd met in that filthy garage.

He was so handsome. Young. The soft reddish blonde of his hair was perfect even if it was damp with sweat. She stared at him from the ground where she was crouched, thinking he looked less like a cop than any man she'd ever met.

She'd helped him when she'd inadvertantly gotten him shot. She'd chosen to take the hit from Birkin to save him. It was unlike her. It was unexpected. She wasn't the self sacrificing type. It was the first time she'd gone outside of her mission parameters to help him. It wouldn't be the last.

His reward for helping her?

He'd cried out her name as she slipped away into the warmth of death.

When she'd awoken, very much alive, she realized that even in near-death she'd completed her mission. She'd been rescued from that firey pit with a sample of the G-Virus in her possession after all. The government had another in the form of Sherry Birkin. And Umbrella…well they'd sent in their dirty henchman H.U.N.K. to retrieve another. It was possible they'd simply taken what was left of Birkin himself from the wreckage of Raccoon before sanitation had occurred.

She'd laid on the cot in the recovery facility of her employer and felt the loss of something. What? What was that loss? It was something in the form of Leon Kennedy.

Now she had him. It was curious that her game resulted in real feelings. She felt something for him...she just wasn't sure anymore what that was.

He started to shift off of her and she locked her ankles behind his flanks to hold him.

"Where are you going?"

"Ada…" He leaned back to look into her face. In the absence of the passion, there was something on his face she was hating. It was almost…regret. She looped her fingers into his shirt to hold him to her.

Her voice was soft and meaningful. "Don't."

"What?"

"Don't run."

His arms were bracketed beside her head in a push up motion. His eyes rapidly scanned her face now, searching for something. She didn't know what he was looking for, didn't know if he would find it. "Why? You always run. What is this, Ada? What are you doing here?"

She lifted her hips and he was still inside her. Both of them made some sound of surprised excitement. He pressed his forehead against hers and took a deep shaky breath.

"What are you doing to me?"

Ada kissed him, gently. "I meant what I said. I missed you, Leon. Why does it have to be more than that?"

He looked almost…sad. Sad. She didn't like the sad. It made her feel like she'd done something wrong. They'd acted on impulse, they'd satisfied each other. Why was that sad?

"It's always more with us, Ada. How can anything ever be simple?"

She lifted her hips again and he moved against her, unable to resist. Her hands slid up his arms, over his back under the silky shirt. Part of him hated himself for this, for whatever this was or wasn't or wouldn't ever be. And part of him felt that fire filled beast in his belly that would always want her. He'd thought…what? That'd once he'd had her, the beast would quiet?

Was he that naïve?

Did he think passion died that easily? Did he think he'd be sated with one taste of her?

That's why he hadn't touched her like this, ever, EVER...and never anyone else in years. Because the beast didn't quiet. It hungered. It was never sated.

And he didn't have time for the mess of it.

He murmured, softly, and with feeling, "...women."

She kissed him, drawing his thoughts back to her beneath him. Jesus. There she was. That face that launched a thousand ships. His Helen of Troy.

He felt something like pain in his chest now. Pain. Was the pain Rebecca? Rebecca. REBECCA. The sweetness and gentleness and loving respect she'd shown him. And this was how he repaid her? By nailing a traitor, a spy, a bitch in red on the floor of some dirty old building? He was a disgrace to himself…to his country. And he didn't deserve Rebecca. Or the sweetness she'd offered.

Part of him thought he deserved the torturous game that Ada played with him. Happiness? Never. He deserved the darkness.

And god help them both he wanted it. Whatever this was. Whatever this meant. If it meant nothing or everything or cost him pieces of himself or all of himself, he wanted this moment with her. He shifted and pulled her shirt over her head. She pushed his off his shoulders.

They rolled, once, twice and the pants managed to join the rest of the clothes somewhere on the floor. She rose above him. His hands moved to her hips and jerked, pulling the flimsy little panties she wore with a sigh of ripping silk. He cupped her hips, traced the line of her taut belly, cupped her breasts.

He lifted his upper body to pull her to him and she straddled him as they kissed, lost in the moment of the feel of flesh and fervent need. She murmured his name as they feasted on each other; two vampires desiring the blood of the other. The shame of his own want of her spurred him harder, pushed him faster, plunged his body deeper into her.

The human condition was a mystery, remained a mystery; it allowed them to crave each other without regard for the damage they did to themselves, to others. Ada let the feel of him wash over her, through her, she reveled in it. She'd known, of course, that she was tying him to her now in a way that would mean damage to them both if things went badly. For better or worse, he was hers now.

Irrevocably aroused by the premise of possessing her own toy, Ada Wong knew this kind of game came at a cost to more than her business. This kind of game came with a cost to her soul. She was stripping him of his own purpose, she was replacing it with hers. She was using her body and his love, to push them both screaming into the darkness.

She'd known, of course, it would come to this. She'd known it that moment they'd met again in Spain all those years ago.


Rojo Indumentaria, Spain 2004


"Try using knives next time," He tossed her gun – sans clip – away, "Works better for close encounters."

"Leon…long time, no see."

What was that thing that happened in her belly at seeing him again? She studied him. The once handsome boy cop. The boy cop was gone although that soft naïvete was still there beneath the surface of the hardened man in front of her. When she'd seen him, when she'd known he'd survived Raccoon…what had she felt? Something that had no name.

Or at least not a name she wanted to say out loud.

"Ada.." He studied her in the low light from beside the bed in the room where they'd finally, finally, come face to face. Of all the people he'd expected, she was the last. "So the rumors were true."

She smiled a little, that sinfully shameless quirk of her mouth. "What rumors?"

"You…workin with Wesker."

She shrugged a little, shifting to circle him. The dress she wore shifted around her as she moved. It was sexy, classy, red and wicked. The bitch in red, someone had said. The bitch in red. He should have known. She was always the bitch in red.

"No answer?"

She shrugged, slid her glasses down her face. "Would any answer satisfy you?"

"Maybe you could start with how you survived Raccoon City."

She smiled again, shrugged those taut, leanly muscled shoulders. "I did. That's all that matters. You did as well. And have done quite well for yourself, I see. Although…you might have gotten a better job, Leon. Really. I think this one is outside of your pay grade."

It was inherently wrong to play with fire but it had been so long…she wanted to touch him. She shifted a little and let him move closer to her. He still balanced the blade in his hand. He still knew she was a threat. He wasn't exactly the same trusting boy he'd been.

She stopped circling and let him get closer. He sensed the game had changed. She'd heard that he'd been trained by some of the best. What she'd seen, what he'd done to get where they were; she believed it. She backed up against the wall and let him put her there. "What are you doing here, Ada?"

"Winning," Ada tilted her head, studying him. "You going to use that big knife on me?"

He glanced down at the knife, having clearly forgotten he held it. She smiled a little and the tips of her fingers brushed his bare arm just above his tactical gloves. It was just a little thing, nothing really…and yet he shivered and so did she.

Ah.

AH.

She tossed the sunglasses. They let off their warning.

"Be careful, Leon. Things are not as they seem here."

The glasses set off their flash bang and he stumbled back. "See you later, Leon." She escaped out the window of the bedroom while he called her name. And she rubbed her fingers together where they tingled.

AHHHH. It was the moment she'd known he was something else to her. Something darker, wider, deeper. She was willing to play the game out to see where it took them.

He was infected at that point. The damn fool Saddler and his idiot henchmen had managed to get their hands on Leon and infected him. They wanted him for their own. She couldn't blame them, he'd proven himself a force to be reckoned with at that point.

Ada set about trying to find a solution to the problem. They'd met up again as the parasite had gotten its hooks deeper in him. The fool, the fucking hero, he'd kept on trying to save the day. She watched him stumble into one of the cold, cold rooms on that island where they'd fled with the girl.

She followed, surprising them both. "Leon…are you alright?"

"Yeah…yeah…I just-" He stumbled, grabbed his stomach and wretched. He made some sound like she'd never heard before of pain and torment. She didn't realize it but she'd grabbed him to help him. It was outside of her character to touch someone unprompted.

"Leon!"

The eyes he turned to her were red, red and ugly and empty. She didn't have time to say a word, his hands wrapped at her throat and squeezed. She was suddenly fighting for her life there against the man she'd been hell bent on saving. Furious she grappled for the small feeding knife she wore in her thigh holster and jerked it free.

Her hand drove it into his outer thigh and her knee smashed into his solar plexus. He grunted and dropped his hands while she gasped for air, she spun loose from him. He stumbled and fell to the floor on one knee. She went to pull her pistol to put him down and he lifted a hand, waving it at her.

"Wait! Wait! Ada!"

She froze with her finger on the trigger.

"It's me! I'm sorry! It's me!"

The eyes were blue that turned to her. "I'm sorry. Put it down."

"You fool. You've let the parasite grow in you. Why? I told you we have to get it out of you."

"We?"

He levered himself to his feet, unsteady. She lowered the gun, reluctantly. "Yes. We. I've been helping you all along. You know that. I haven't been subtle about it."

"Why are you helping me?"

She ignored the question. "Come on. Let's go get it out. I think I know where they have an extraction point."

"I can't."

She turned, eyed him as he swallowed a handful of the restrictive meds Sera had given him. He looked awful. He looked tired and broken and bruised. He looked dirty and hungry and lost. The big hero.

"I have to get Ashley first."

"Leon…"

"She's farther along, you said it yourself. She doesn't have much time. I can't risk it."

"Leon," She faced him, shook her head, "You don't have much time."

"I know that. She has even less. I have to try."

She studied him; his resolve was formidable. Broken, beaten, knocked down and infected and he was still going to try to save the day. She respected him and it surprised her to know it. It also complicated things a little. It didn't change the end game.

At the end of the day she'd stolen the sample from him. She'd completed the mission. But she'd regretted it. And she'd failed one piece of it. The orders had insisted she bring him in. She let him go.

She let him go.

She never did enjoy following orders.


Happy Goose Bay, 2017


The crackling of the fire roused her. They were sealed together, legs and body's intertwined on the rug. They'd fallen asleep.

She lifted to look down at him, sleeping with an arm across her, her legs parted and his pressed between. She rubbed herself against the thigh she encircled with her own. The dampness of her had his eyes fluttering open.

They locked gazes, Ada rocking her body against his thigh.

There was something soft and genuine on his face. There was something sleepy and sweet and gentle. There were the obvious signs of aging as well. He had a fine whisper of crows feet beside his beautiful blue eyes. He had a suggestion of smile lines at the corners of his mouth. She didn't realize she was going to trace them with her fingers until she did it.

"Did you get old on me, Leon?"

"We tend to do that."

Somehow he smiled and there in the older face was that boy she'd met in Raccoon City. She craved him, in that moment, she craved both of them. She let the truth fill her up and spill out of her eyes. She felt like she owed him this much truth. And it cost her something to share it, "I want you."

She did. She wanted him. Whatever that meant, who knew. She knew only that she wanted him. And didn't want the other girl to have him. Was it simply jealous possession? Possibly. Love was the wrong word. He'd said love to her. He'd told her he loved her that night after Tatchi.

She didn't think he did. Not really. They were somewhat obsessed with each other after all this time. But love? That wasn't quite right.

She didn't think she was capable of love. Not the kind he wanted. Not the hearts and flowers and babies kind. She didn't want that kind of anchor to hold her down. But she knew only that she wanted him and would do what it took to keep him.

"Ada…" The kiss was different this time, soft. She watched the thunder of it move across his face. Ah. So he didn't want that either. He didn't want her to move him. He didn't want her to make this something else. So she did. She pushed it. Because she knew if tempted him with something more, she'd have him forever.

She was just that good at the game.

She drew him closer to her and angled her body against his as she kissed him. She held his eyes as they did, she cupped his face. She drew his hand against her chest, between her breasts, over her heart. She could hook him with a single set of three words, she knew that. She knew she could get him that way. If she just said love. Although she might play games, she tried to never lie. She bent the truth a little, yes, yes she did. But she never lied.

She drew her mouth back from his. "I saw you with her."

He blinked a little, rapidly, and his eyelids hooded his eyes just a bit. What was that on his face now? Shame? What was he ashamed of? That he'd betrayed Ada? Or that he'd betrayed the other girl?

"What is her name? Rebecca? Of Sunnybrook farm, I wonder? She's so sweet...young, like you were once. Eager. Does she taste like apple pie between her legs, I wonder?"

Ah. That was it. He was ashamed that he'd hurt Rebecca. He was a good guy after all. He fairly radiated guilt.

"You can't have her, Leon." Ada skimmed her fingers up his back. "She's not for you. Do you think you'll settle down and have babies? Do you think she'll make you…whole?"

He started to shift away from her and she held him, thumbs beside his ears, rocking her body on his thigh. His hands slid up and gripped her hips. "Stop it, Ada. Stop playing with me."

"Who's playing?" She nipped at his mouth. "I'm offering you something real."

"You? Are you kidding? This isn't real, Ada. This is a lie. You're a lie. Damnit, what the fuck is wrong with me?" He moved to roll away from her and she let him this time. It was ok. She had him. They both had to know that.

"It's more real than whatever lie you've been telling her."

"I haven't lied to her." He sounded angry now as he rose, hunting up his clothes, "I never lied."

"Psychology 101, darling...we always repeat things that make us feel the most guilty. The lady doth protest too much, me thinks."

He shook his head, "...I never lied." He said it again to emphasize his point, clearly.

Ada laughed, lightly, "Did you tell her you love her?"

She stayed as she was, lying on her side on the floor, watching him. "Did you promise her the world?"

"Stop it. Just stop it." He picked up his shirt and slipped it on over his briefs. It was quite a sight for her on the floor. All those perfectly defined muscles with a frame of Prada and Armani. The eager socialite in her was thrilled. "She deserves better than this."

"So go back and tell her, you noble fool. Maybe she'll forgive you. Maybe you'll go back to Montana and become farmers."

He shook his head, grabbing his pants from the floor.

"Would she wait, barefoot and pregnant in your kitchen, to welcome you home after a long day of ranching? Such a sweet and eager young thing. Who are you kidding here, Leon? You aren't a farmer. You're a fighter. It's all you know how to be."

He paused and the look he gave her now was tortured and lost. "I don't want to be that anymore. I don't want to fight. I want to go home and stop fighting."

"Then go," She said it softly as she rose, naked and resplendent. And she was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He coveted her and the thunder in his blood at the sight of her. She was unreal, untouchable. Like a white tiger inside of a gilded cage. Beautiful, yes; but it would eat your fucking hand if you tried to pet it. "Go home with your simple girl and live your simple life. Leave saving the world to someone else."

She moved toward him and he stepped back a bit, lifting his hand at her.

"Don't."

She took that hand and guided it down to touch her. He shook his head, a drowning man. "Ada. Let me go."

He sounded nearly desperate. She loved it. The strange truth came from knowing she coveted him almost as much as he did her. Why? Because he was her Rebecca, it seemed, so eager to have her.

"You don't want me to let you go. You never have. And that is what is killing you right now. You might want her…" She stepped into him, released his hand and delighted in the fact he kept it right where it was between her legs. His breath was so shallow she thought he might pass out from it. Her hands slid around his torso and up his back beneath the silky shirt. She drew him down to her and he came, looking so tortured. "You might want her…but you crave me. And I want you, Leon. I always get what I want. It's really that simple. Touch me slower..."

She drew his lower lip into her mouth and quivered when he obeyed, "...harder..." And he did that too. The perfect toy.

She kissed him while he played his hand between her legs, torturing them both. She rubbed at him through his briefs. They were both breathless when she drew away.

"Go back to her. End it. Do both of you that favor." She pressed her naked breasts against him, rubbed her groin over his and thrilled when it drew a curse from his mouth. "I will come to you later."

"Don't. Please."

"I'll see you tomorrow night."

She slipped from his hands and he gripped the edge of the desk with all his strength, breathing, trying to find his inner steel. What the hell was he doing? What was this? She was toying with him, he knew it. He KNEW it. He knew it in a thousand ways. But he just kept letting her. He just kept getting drawn further into her web.

"Come into my web," said the spider to the fly. He was the fly. He was obsessed with death. And death was all she could offer him. He would die craving her.

"Ada…" He turned and she was gone. The room was empty save for the fire and the soft sounds of the falling snow beyond the window. He was alone.

There was no sign that she had ever been. He glanced around. The couch was over turned, true. But that was it. There was no proof they'd lain on the floor and slept. No proof she'd risen above him like a dark goddess and called his soul from his skin. There was no proof that she'd promised him damnation if he just followed her. Followed her like Nero. Followed her as Rome burned.

The face that launched a thousand ships.

His Helen of Troy.

He stared at his face in the mirror that sagged crookedly on the wall and hated the man who looked back at him. The last sound in the quiet room was the tinkle of shattering glass as his fist obliterated the image and replaced it with that of a man split into pieces. Fragmented, destroyed, the countenance that stared back was finally real, finally right; a perfect reflection of what he was inside - broken.