Eve of Destruction
Raccoon City, New York
December 2014–
Chapter Fourteen:
The Masks we Wear
8:45 a.m. -The Statue of Liberty - Torch Balcony
It was cold. It was brutal. It was almost a bust. But the Lady of Liberty gifted them with the ability to look beyond her beautiful façade.
She might have been lady luck instead.
Freezing, Bo crouched down and touched the button hidden at the base of her torch. It made a whirring sound. It lit up bright and yellow. It blazoned and pulsed like fire.
He rose. He and Kevin stared at each other hunched in their coats against the heavy bitter breeze. The light pulsed and shimmered. The torch flickered happily.
And nothing happened.
Aloud, Bo wondered, "That it?"
There was no answer. There was no reason to feel a flicker of fear either. But as he studied the pulsing light of the lady standing guard over the weary, he wondered what truths she still had left to show them.
After a second he dropped the cigarette he was smoking and shouted, above the wind, "You know morse code!?"
Bo gave him a blank look, "Should I?"
Kevin shook his head and returned, "Record this shit on your phone."
"Why?"
"Because the lady is sending a message."
Impressed, Bo laughed, "To whom?"
"I don't know. But we're damn well gonna find out. Might be the first time in history that I actually listen when a woman talks."
Bo laughed and kept on recording.
11:16 a.m. - Raccoon City Police Department-BCU locker room -
The first heated spray hit his face and nearly had him collapsing against the wall. He hurt. It wasn't just soreness from being slapped around. He hurt. Leon looked down at the bruising across his side.
It was already the ugly purple and pink of inflamed muscle and crushed connective tissue. He poked it and hissed, hating the ruptured capillaries near the skin's surface that felt the need to escape and leak beneath the protective flesh. His whole left side and part of his back were a mess.
He'd wrenched his hip at some point as well and was limping like an old man. He was sore, tired, and scared. He was scared. Because that tyrant had turned into something that wasn't T-Virus related. Whatever had come from its back wasn't T. It couldn't be. What had Klamp said? Mitochondria.
What did that mean?
More questions.
He drilled his fist into the wall in anger.
When did the questions have answers?
Klamp was dead. Eve had the sperm. Melissa Pearce was still in the wind. Birkin was in custody but he wasn't talking. They had nothing. Nothing.
He was tired of having nothing.
There was the echo of the door of the locker room opening. He put his face in the spray and let it try to beat the fatigue away from behind his eyes. Figuring it was Kevin, Leon called, "We hear anything back from the proprietor of Carnegie Hall?"
Kevin called back, "Yeah. He has no clue about the statue or the jewel. The blueprints don't say dick. The building was originally built by a man named Ashford. I'm trying to figure out what he has to do with anything...but I gotta tell ya, man, the connection to Umbrella is damning. If I can figure out what message Lady Liberty is sending, I might be closer to finding out whose ear she's whispering in."
Leon soaked his eye sockets in the spray and returned, "I know it. See if you can tie Ashford to anyone with the organs. But I'm betting it's gonna be further back than that. How deep is this rabbit hole?"
Kevin returned, "As deep as your Mom when I finished drilling her last night."
"Lame. You're better than that."
Snorting, Kevin answered, "True. I'm fucking tired. I need a nap, dude."
Leon laughed softly. After a moment of soaking his face in the spray, he called, "Me too. Anything back on the DNA results I had Rebecca send off for?"
And a voice answered, "Not yet."
Not Kevin. Kevin must have left without saying a word. That was pretty much his M.O. But just to be sure, "Kevin out there?"
"Nope. Just me."
Aya.
He had a moment of something like fear in his guts. It actually pissed him off. What was he afraid of? That she'd rape him? He thought about that for a moment. Was he afraid of her? Because Sherry Birkin shared her face?
Another mystery without an answer.
But this one was simple: no. He wasn't afraid of her. He was afraid of hurting her. He was afraid of what was happening to her. He was afraid he'd never be able to stop it and she'd turn or die or end up in a coma. He was afraid that he'd touch her and see the bitch who'd used him. Because of that face?
Yeah. Maybe. Yeah.
And he hated himself for it.
What was worse?
He was more afraid he'd touch her and only see her. And what then? What? There wasn't time in his world, in his life, in their situation for love. There wasn't time for any of that.
Leon paused and considered the thought. Not lust...love. He'd used that word: love. Did he think he could love her?
The same three answers: Yeah. Maybe. Yeah. The only responses he had lately for anything.
And that was scarier than anything else.
He didn't let people into his life he could love. Love made you weak. It made you stupid. It made you braver...better...faster. Damnit. Love was a double-edged sword. Love was the thing that drove people to the brink of madness and miracles since the dawn of time.
What if he fell in love with her...and failed her?
Terrifying.
Voice gritty, he answered, "You often peep on guys in the shower?"
When she didn't answer, he assumed maybe she'd left. Maybe she'd gotten what she needed and gone. But she finally replied, "I'm waiting out here. I didn't peep. I thought about it...but with everything..." She trailed off.
He sighed and rubbed his face. The towel on the hook beside the shower was easily draped around his waist as he killed the water. He padded out of the shower into the break room.
She was sitting on the bench by a row of lockers with her hands clasped between her knees.
She'd put on that heavy gray sweatshirt and some jeans. Her hair was in a loose lazy braid that had lost tendrils to curl around her face. The boots on her feet were black and scuffed and well loved.
He turned to his locker and opened it, reaching inside for a stick of deodorant. "I'm not fragile, Aya. I'm not gonna shatter if you peep at my junk."
She lifted her head to glance at him. Water had beaded on his face. He had enough of a shadow of stubble on his cheeks and chin to be suitably disheveled. His hair was slicked back off his forehead and dripping down his back as he applied deodorant to his armpits.
He had nice calves and legs. Strong. Muscled. His washboard stomach was, as always, ridiculous. If she hadn't been staring at the towel and sorta hoping it fell off while he was moving, she would have noticed the bruising sooner.
With a gasp, Aya rose off the bench. "...Leon..."
He turned toward the locker to grab a white t-shirt from inside it. "I'm fine."
"You didn't say a word. We helped the relief workers. We were there for hours. Jesus...look at you."
He wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was stress. Maybe it was fatigue. Maybe it was fear. Whatever it was, it had him throwing the stick of deodorant in his hand back into his locker, hard.
It clanked on the metal and made her jump as he turned toward her and accused, harshly, "I'm tired of you looking at me. Sick of it! I'm tired of you touching and tempting me and waking up to find you on top of me...but it's not you. It's not even close. Wanting you? I hate it. It hurts me. It's worse than this stupid bruising because I can't stop it. It won't go away. I thought she was you. I thought that. And by the time I knew I was wrong, it was too fucking late."
She winced. Because he didn't use language like that. He was vibrating with such rage. Her heart hurt looking at him. She whispered, softly, "...I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say."
Leon denied that as well. He turned away to grab his shirt again and ball it up in his fist. "It's not your fault. Ok? I know that. I meant it. I don't see her when I look at you...I saw you when I looked at her. I saw you. And I hate that even when I knew it wasn't you...I just kept pretending it was because at least then? Then I'd get to have you."
Well...that was out there now.
If this hadn't been the worst possible time, it might have been the most important. She'd never, in all her life, felt like she did when she heard him say it. Her heart just - stopped. Her breath seized in her lungs.
The way he talked about her...she'd never had a man speak about her like that. Even Kyle, who'd loved her, had never spoken to her with such desperate longing. How much was the man and how much was the monster?
She'd cut off an arm to know the answer.
He said, angrily, "I'm not a guy who pines for a woman. I don't know who I am around you."
Aya took a step toward him, stopped, and took another one. "...look at me."
He shook his head: no. "I can't. I want you to go. Ok? For now, just go. Go find Bo. Go see if you can help dig up information on Zoe Baker. I don't want you around me. I don't want to want you anymore. I don't want to stand there and picture what happened to me and have to deal with the disgusting truth that I wanted it to be you. So just...go away, Aya. Please."
She hesitated. She understood it. Like a victim, he was reacting with shame and remorse and anger. It was ok. She could take it. She felt the stifled frustration herself. It was coupled with the knowledge that being together was complicated by what they couldn't control, what they didn't understand, and what they were starting to feel for each other on their own. A painful place to be.
He was in so much pain. She couldn't stop some of it.
Other parts of it? She could take that away.
Quietly, she said, "I'll go. I'll go and stay gone. I'll do that..."
He braced his hands on the locker and lowered his head. She watched his biceps flex like he was doing a push-up and she added, "But I can't leave you like this. You're wounded. You're hurt. Let me help you...you know I can. Let me do this for you. Please."
He glanced over at her. His hair tumbled into his face. Aya licked her dry lips and held her hands out to him, empty. Unarmed. But the greatest weapon wasn't a gun. It was whatever was inside of her.
And they both knew that.
She held her hands open, palm up, and queried, "What's Ghost?"
His brow furrowed as he tried to follow the change in conversation, "What?"
"Ghost." She gestured to the gun tucked into his locker. The whole barrel was visible. It wasn't just ghost. It was Silver Ghost. He glanced down at it and back at her as she added, "Silver Ghost? Is that what you named your gun?"
He picked it up, ejected the magazine, and drew back the slide in a single set of movements. "...there's a guy here in Raccoon named Joseph Kendo. He's kinda like...Smith and Wesson for the locals."
She was quiet, hoping the talking would soothe him.
He added, "When I graduated from the Academy, my Uncle had this made for me. My nickname in the agency was Ghost...because I just..." He shrugged and snapped the magazine back in the gun, chambered it, and put the safety on. "I just knew how to sneak in, get the job done, and never be seen. Before I went to Spain, a buddy of mine had the name engraved on the side as a gag."
He glanced over at her as he set the gun down. "I liked it. So I kept the name. And the gun? It never jams. It never misfires. It's never let me down."
Quietly, Aya filled the silence that followed, "Neither will I."
He held her gaze. The moments ticked and she avowed, again, with feeling, "You don't know me very well. It's been a rough couple of days. I haven't done my best for you. I will. If you take a chance on me? I won't let you down. I can't change what happened. I wish to god I could. But don't give up on me. Please. I don't know if I can do this without you."
Leon finally closed his eyes. She watched him gather a deep breath. Aya finished, quietly, "Let me help you. Like you've done for me. I won't grope you. I won't even peep."
He shook his head, angry again. Not at her. At this moment. At her need to talk to him like a victim. He wasn't. He hated feeling like one.
Aya tried one more time, softly, "I can't erase what she did to you...but I can fix this. Let me try."
Leon shoved off the locker like he'd leaped off that wall to fight the tyrant. He stalked toward her and she had the urge to meet him halfway and leap around his body like a wild thing. She tamped that down under layers of self-disgust and fear.
Because whatever else was true? He was dangerous. She'd seen him move, she'd watched him fight, she knew he could kill her before she could stop him. It scared her, it impressed her, and it turned her on.
She didn't have to like herself for feeling it, but there it was.
He was hurting and she wanted to mount him like a jockey and ride him to the finish. She needed whatever was in her gone. Now.
But she kept her hands suspended as if he had her at gunpoint - harmless. See? I'm harmless...right.
When he was close to her, she tilted her head. His breath blew warm and tempting over her forehead. She waited. He finally nodded and turned his eyes up to the ceiling. With a shiver of empathy, Aya laid her open palm on his side. She slid her other hand down and gripped his and said, "Remember your arm? This will be worse."
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and instructed, "...do it."
She did it.
It felt like she was trying to burn his bones inside of his body.
The hand not holding hers shot out and gripped the back of her neck. He jerked her into his body and she let him. The more of her that touched him, the faster he healed. The second her body bumped him, it felt like his blood was on fire.
He wasn't aware that he had shouted. He wasn't aware that he'd shoved her hard into the lockers behind her. Not once, not twice, three times. She let him. Her back rang with pain as his healed.
And just like when it started - it was done. Instant. Only the throb of release was left behind.
His eyes slid open...and he realized he had her arms gripped in his hands. He'd pinned her to the lockers. No...he'd slammed her into them. Ashamed, horrified, he let go of her and backed off.
There was a dent in the locker where she'd hit.
Aya slid to the bench and sat down. Her hands were shaking. She was pale.
Horrified, Leon apologized, profusely, "I'm so sorry. Are you alright? I didn't-"
She lifted her hand to halt him. "I'm fine. You were hurting. It's like a dog biting someone when its in pain. It's ok."
He took a step toward her, "It's not. It's not ok. I'm mortified. Let me see. I didn't realize -"
She shied away from him.
He froze.
And the moment was painful.
She thought he was going to hurt her.
The moment she realized it, Aya said sharply, "Reaction. Not you. Me. It was reactionary."
Leon backed off until he bumped into the other lockers. "I hurt you. You healed me and I hurt you. I didn't mean to. I'm a bastard. I'm so sorry."
Aya waved that away. The horror in his voice was soothing somehow. There were men out there that hurt women and liked it. He wasn't one of them. "It's fine. I mean it. I know that. Don't blame yourself. I'm fine."
She was holding her arm to the side in a way that he didn't like. His eyes narrowed at her. She glanced up at him and didn't like the look on his face at all. However, when he moved toward her again, she made sure not to shy away.
She rose, slowly, to face him.
Leon commanded, sharply, "Show me."
Aya shook her head, denying him.
He blocked her when she tried to move around him. When she shifted the other way, he put out an arm to stop her. The second her side touched his arm, she gasped and recoiled.
And confirmed what he'd been afraid of. She could heal. She healed but she took that damage onto herself to do it.
His face must have been pretty scary because Aya soothed, "I heal quickly. I promise. Your cut? It was gone from me in minutes."
She'd wounded herself to help him. She'd swallowed his pain and left herself mired in it. He'd never, in his life, met anyone like her. How did he stop himself from falling for her? She was the most selfless woman he'd ever met.
They stared at each other until she whispered, "Let me go now, ok? I won't see you again until I have something to report. We'll only meet with other people around. I won't to-"
His hand slipped to the side of her face and turned it up. She made a small sound and lifted her chin. He'd spent a good portion of his life kissing girls. He knew how to do it. He knew how to do it well.
He didn't dive. He didn't delve. He just pressed their mouths together while they both closed their eyes. She didn't pucker her lips back. She didn't moan and grope. She just let him.
She couldn't possibly know what it did to him to know it cost her to do that too.
After a moment, he let go of her face. Quietly, Leon told her, "...thank you."
Aya kept her face turned up. He watched her swallow twice. Her pulse in her throat beat rapidly. Her mouth puckered, just a bit, just a little.
He leaned down to brush her mouth with his again -testing. She opened her lips just a little when he urged it. He watched her while he kissed her, almost chastely.
He didn't feel shame. He didn't feel anger. He didn't feel rage. He didn't feel anything...but her. It healed something scared and scarred and aching in him he wasn't aware was there. His mouth pressed a little more, lifted, pressed again. Soft kisses, sweet, gentle and giving. He watched her hands lift, hesitate, and lower again and he urged, gruffly, "S'ok. Touch me."
But she denied that.
Aya shivered. She answered, trembling, "Do I taste like her?"
Leon rubbed their mouths together until she shivered, "...you taste like Aya."
Damn him. Her thighs quivered. Her legs turned to jelly.
She was afraid she was falling for him. She needed to get away. Now. She backed up, head down, hands shaking.
The tension was finally too much for her. He kept his eyes on her face to see the regret flash there.
It shook loose another shackle of relief that he felt it too. He didn't want her to go. Parasite be damned, he wanted her to stay. He wanted to touch her and watch her eyes when he did it. He wanted to slide between her thighs and love her while she clung to him.
Eve hadn't stolen that from him after all.
At the door to the locker room, she shook her head and whispered, "...your towel fell off." And she fled.
She was right. It was lying on the floor. It had fallen off and he hadn't even noticed. That's what happened to him when she was around. She just...over took everything else in his universe.
Leon turned back to his locker to dress. She was the most fascinating creature he'd ever met. Hands down. She didn't try to hold him down and hurt him. She didn't try to steal anything from him at all. She just...took his pain away.
Shaking his head, he reached for his pants and sighed.
And the guilt of her taking his wounds onto herself to heal him? That hurt like hell.
1:11 p.m. - Raccoon University Department of Genetics
Rebecca was sitting at her computers when she saw the reflection in the monitors. Aya moved toward her. She took the seat beside the other woman. A small moment of silence passed between them.
Finally, Aya filled it, "I need to know if I can touch him. I need to know if I'll kill him if I do."
Rebecca studied her face. "You having feelings for him." She had it with a tone of real surprise.
Aya smiled a little sadly, "He's..."
Rebecca nodded. She patted her knee. "He's beautiful. And he's kind. And he's stupidly funny. I'm half in love with him myself."
Aya laughed, shaking her head, "I can't touch him if it means risking him. So what do I do?"
Rebecca tapped her pen on her lips. She tilted her head back and forth. Aya, nervous, asked, "What? Nothing? Is there nothing we can do?"
Rebecca patted her knee. She turned back to her computer and typed some keys. "There's no evidence at all that you can't touch him. In fact? It might be the answer you're both waiting for here. My suggestion? Hold on sweetheart, he looks like a guy gives you the ride of your lifetime."
Aya laughed, putting her face in her hands, "I'm here asking my Mom for permission to have sex. This is what my life has come to."
"I think it's wonderful you've asked me. I've been digging. I can't uncover anything that says you can't control it if you try. Grab his dick, grab a handful of that hair of his, and ride him into the sunset. It might loosen you both up so you can get back the hunt for the bad guys."
Aya blew out a breath and nodded, "Ok. Now how I do I approach my boss about going to bed with me without feeling like sexual harassment?"
"One, it isn't harassment if he likes it. Two..there's only one place that has the wisdom of the ages for us." With a short snort, Rebecca went right to YouTube for answers.
1:22 p.m. - The Apartment of Kevin Ryman
The phone beeped out the sounds of R2D2's excitement. His text tone usually made him happy. It was failing to do so when he had, literally, just gotten to sleep. Kevin rolled over and flopped his hand at the nightstand. The light from his phone shed blue on the scattering of hair on his chest before he closed one eye to stare at the message.
Morse code came back. The lady? She's sending a single message: We All Wear Masks. Still working out the rest. Hit ya back soon.
Frowning, Kevin shook his head in the dark. What did that mean?
It meant they were no closer to finding out who was pulling the strings of this stupid puppet show.
Masks? As far as he could tell, the mask they were all wearing was turning out to be humanity.