Warnings: no beta, OOCness, English is not my first language, inconsistent tenses, i am very bad at prepositions
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.
A/N: i wanted to write horknee aeon but this was what i wrote instead 😰😰😰
She sat on the chair with her arms and legs crossed, a finger impatiently tapping against her arm. The man before her on the queue was taking too goddamn long—forty minutes, according to her wristwatch—and she was getting irritated. Just how many questions did the man have?
But finally, the man left, so she approached the counter and gave the woman behind it a smile. Her nametag read Carol, and as tired as she looked—the man before must have challenged her patience—she still gave her a small smile.
"Good morning," Carol said. "What can I do for you?"
"Hi, I'm looking to get a copy of a birth certificate," she said. She opened the envelope she was carrying and took an ID out of it. "Harrold Sunderland, born on March 18th, 1965."
"And for what purpose?"
"I work for the DA's office. I need it for a case." She then took a small piece of paper out of her bag. "I'm going to need these documents as well."
Carol read the paper. "These are all confidential. May I ask for two IDs for verification?"
She took a fake driver's licence and work ID out of her wallet, then slid them towards Carol.
The woman took a good look at her IDs, and then back at her face. It didn't matter. She wore a wig, eyeglasses, and a prosthetic nose, and then took a photo of herself in her disguise for those fake IDs. She even spoke in a New York accent. She had no doubt that this woman would have a lot of trouble trying to track her down, if needed be.
The woman nodded in satisfaction. She returned her IDs, saying, "I'm gonna have to run this through several red tapes, so this might take a while. In the meantime, you can sit down over there, or have a cup of coffee in the café across the street."
"I'll do just that. Thank you."
So she went to the café, grabbed a cup of tea, and returned to the government building after a half an hour, but Carol still wasn't there. Another clerk, who looked to be an intern, took her place, so the other people in the queue didn't curse her to the high heavens for taking up too much time.
Forty-five minutes later and she was still waiting. If there was a problem with her IDs, she would have known it by now, but even if Carol called the district attorney's office for verification, she would still be in the clear. She looked up a list of employees who worked there and chose a lawyer who had a lovely name.
Beatrice Kennedy, her name was.
She smirked. Ms Beatrice shared the same surname with a man she was incredibly fond of.
Five minutes later, Carol still wasn't back.
And then the door to the office opened, and in strode trouble.
Her eyes narrowed behind her eyeglasses. The man who had just walked in wore a black leather jacket, a blue button-down, a pair of faded jeans, and boots that looked worn and well used. He approached the intern-clerk and flashed his fancy badge, and then sat on the vacant seat a foot to her right.
She stared at him from her peripheral vision. She spotted his wristwatch, which she knew cost as much as a brand-new car.
She should know. She bought that for him. Never mind that there were regulations about federal employees accepting gifts. Government workers weren't supposed to accept presents costing more than twenty dollars, or presents totalling to fifty dollars in a year, but they sure can accept gifts based on familial or personal relationships. However, she wasn't his family and she wasn't explicitly in his social sphere. If anything, she technically didn't exist. She wondered how did he explain the sudden presence of that thirty-thousand-dollar watch on his wrist.
She wondered if he could recognise her even with the disguise she was wearing.
She suddenly remembered something, and under the guise of fixing her hair, she made sure that her ears were well hidden.
She was really getting soft. And sloppy.
Some minutes later, Carol finally returned. She looked around for her but seemingly didn't see her because she called, "Attorney Kennedy?"
She stood up, but not without taking a very quick glance at the momentarily confused face of the man sitting a few feet to her side.
She strode towards the counter, feeling his eyes on her. Her long hair swished, and when she turned back on the pretence of looking around, she saw him scrolling through his phone.
So her disguise worked well. She considered it a personal victory.
"Sorry it took so long," Carol said. "There was a lot of red tape, I tell you." She then turned to the intern-clerk, telling him that he was now relieved of his temporary duty.
"Here is the birth certificate," she said, "and here are the other documents you have requested."
And then she heard footsteps from behind her.
"Hey—" The man said as he stepped beside her, his eyes squinting on Carol's nametag. "—Carol." He showed her his badge. "I'm Agent Kennedy of the DSO, and I need a copy of these documents." He gave her a piece of paper.
Carol narrowed her eyes and looked at them back and forth, which in turn made Agent Kennedy look at her.
"The exact same documents?" Carol asked.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Attorney Kennedy—" Carol said, tipping her head towards her, "—requested the exact same documents."
She feigned surprise. "Oh, what a coincidence. Same documents, same surname." And this might just be her undoing—it was a name she chose on a whim based on her affections for this man. Wasn't she taught from such a young age to never use her emotions when deciding things? As much as she thought fondly of him, if he ever got in the way of her real job…She offered him a hand. "I'm Beatrice Kennedy, and I work for the DA's office."
She wondered if there could ever be another time in the future when she could introduce herself as a Kennedy legally. Maybe she could be wearing a ring or two from him.
Ha.
He shook her hand. "I'm Leon, Leon Kennedy. Nice to meet you, Beatrice." He gave her a polite smile, the one that she recognised as the smile he gave to strangers.
It felt strange to be on the receiving end of that smile when he had given her much warmer, much more affectionate, and much fonder smiles. When he smiled at her—especially in the mornings after they had just woken up—he made her forget that she wasn't supposed to be with him, that she wasn't supposed to keep wishing that she could be with him.
"I guess we're working on the same case, huh?" said Leon. He then turned to Carol. "How soon can I get those documents? Your clerk here earlier—Bryan, was it?—said that I had to wait for you."
"Bryan's right, Agent Kennedy," said Carol, "and I'm afraid it might take a long time."
"I waited for about an hour," she said.
Leon grimaced. "An hour it is, then."
"But I can process it for you now. I just need your badge and another ID," said Carol.
"He doesn't have to wait in line?" she asked Carol before looking at Leon for an explanation. Ah, that's right. Preferential treatment for DSO agents, and a high clearance for the president's favourite agent.
Leon smiled sheepishly. "Kind of comes with the job." He gave Carol his badge and ID. "I could have the FOS procure these for me, but it's not a time-sensitive case."
"Here you go, Agent Kennedy." Carol returned his IDs. "As Attorney Kennedy here has just said, you might have to wait for an hour, but possibly less, because the request comes from the DSO. There's a café across the street if that interests you."
"Thanks, Carol." He looked at his watch and then at her. "Wanna get lunch together? We can trade notes."
What a flirt. She should punish him.
She walked towards the door. "Do you have your bosses' permission to work with the DA's office?"
He followed her. "No. But I want to know what you know." He opened the door for her, and she nodded in thanks as she stepped out.
"What do you think I know?" She proceeded towards the pedestrian's lane, but Leon caught her wrist. She looked at him questioningly.
"I know of a good place not far from here." He retrieved his car keys from his pocket, and her eyes fell on that teddy bear keychain.
"Very cute," she said. "Where'd you get that?"
He followed her gaze and then met her eyes. "Someone I deeply care about gave this to me more than a decade ago."
They stared at each other for a few more seconds, but to her, it felt like hours.
She can't help but feel that something had just gone awry.
Eventually, she broke their staring contest. He walked towards his car, gesturing for her to follow.
"And I'm supposed to get into a car with someone that I just met?" She followed him anyway.
He opened the car door for her. "Why not? People do it all the time. Just treat me as you cab driver."
"What if you're a serial killer?" she asked as she got in, buckling her seatbelt.
Leon got behind the wheel and strapped on his seatbelt. He gave her a loaded look and said, "You really think that?"
His eyes bore into hers, as if he was staring right past her disguise. She felt like he has seen through her, although how she didn't know.
"No, I don't think that," she said.
"You know what I think?" He turned the engine on.
"What?"
He chuckled. "If you're so desperate on being called a Kennedy, just ask me. You don't need to use my surname as part of your fake name. I'd give you my surname in a heartbeat. Gladly."
She stared at his face, taking in every line, every mark, and every scar. She knew his face intimately—she knew him intimately—and she had long since finished surveying the topography of his body. Sometimes, she added new landmarks on his skin—marks from her mouth and fingernails—although they inevitably disappeared in time.
But some stayed permanently, like that bullet wound. Although she didn't give it to him personally, he got it because of her.
She shook her head in defeat. She dropped her New York accent and said, "I'll have you know that Beatrice Kennedy is a real person working in the DA's office."
"And you just got her in trouble." He sighed.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of her." She bit her lip. "What gave me away?"
He tucked her hair—or technically, her wig's hair—behind her ear and brushed a thumb across the earring she wore. "I had these custom-made, remember? There's only one pair in the world."
The earrings in question were butterflies made of rubies, diamonds, and citrines on gold backing. Leon had given it to her for Christmas a few years back.
"I thought my wig hid them," she said, sinking into her seat. There was no need for pretences now. She chose a fake name which bore his surname, and wore a pair of one-of-a-kind earrings from him that revealed her identity—or at least one of them.
"They did. But one time you turned your head, and I saw them." He patted her knee in reassurance. "Don't worry, it's still a very good disguise. I wouldn't have recognised you if you hadn't worn those."
She loved leaving her marks on his body and his life. A bite to his neck, a pair of lingerie she had left in his flat, a watch around his wrist—they were tiny traces of her that she deliberately left. He wasn't hers and she wasn't sure if he could ever be, but she liked to think that Leon loved it when she claimed him in whatever way she can.
"I'm getting sloppy," she said, shaking her head.
He squeezed her knee. "For what it's worth, you're still a very good spy."
She scowled. "Now you're just patronising me."
"I'm not. I told you, I wouldn't have known it was you until I saw the earrings." He looked out through his windshield and into the distance, at the shops on the street, at the people walking past, at the trees swaying in the wind under the afternoon sun. "We could go to Vegas if you really want my surname."
She grimaced. "No thanks."
He threw his head back in laughter. His hand was still on her knee, and she felt each reverberation of his laughs. "Yeah. I wouldn't wanna marry you right now anyway."
"Why wouldn't you?" she asked casually, trying to mask that tiny twinge of pain in her voice.
He looked at her and placed both of his hands on the wheel. "I don't wanna marry Beatrice Kennedy. I wanna marry Ada Wong."
He pulled out of the parking lot and into the main road. She glanced outside the window and said, "How could you think of marriage in a world like this?"
"What, like you're not thinking of it?"
She snapped her head to look at his profile. "Flights of fancy, Leon. Idle thoughts during idle times. Nothing will ever come out of it."
He didn't reply until some minutes later when he stopped at a red light. "And yet you still think of it."
The traffic moved again, and Leon pulled into a Burger King parking lot.
"This was the good place that you knew?" she asked incredulously.
He didn't answer her question directly. Instead, he parked his car but remained rooted in his seat, the engine still running.
"I can't even look at you right now." He was, in fact, not looking at her, but rather, at the establishment in front of them. "I want to see Ada."
She stared at him for a while, at that small pout on his lips because of his stubborn refusal to look at her. So she removed her eyeglasses, wig, and prosthetic nose, throwing those in the backseat, and then fixed her hair—her real hair—with a comb from her bag. She used the rear-view mirror to wipe her face clean and reapply her makeup.
"There," she said. "You can look at me now."
And then he looked at her, and his eyes gleamed and they warmed her to the core. Somehow, she thought of hot milk and honey—sweet, comforting, and felt like coming home.
He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, all the while staring into her eyes. "Hi, Ada."
She rolled her eyes, but thoughts of hot milk and honey didn't leave her mind.
"Let's get some late lunch, yeah?" Leon said, still holding her hand, still looking at her with wonder.
"You sap," Ada said.
"Says the one who used my surname for a fake name."
She remained silent.
"I mean it, you know." He laced their fingers together. "We can't actually drive to Vegas and file for marriage because that'd be trouble for you, but I hope my sentiment is heard."
"It's a very nice sentiment, but all too impossible, I'm afraid."
"Maybe it is." He leaned back in his seat, their fingers still intertwined. "But there's no other person in this world that I'd rather give my surname to but you."
Ada loved leaving her marks on his body and his life. But he too left his marks on her—from the earrings that ultimately gave her away, to something a little more permanent, like changing her fake surname into a real one.
"I'd take it if I could," she said. "In a heartbeat."
"Even though nothing would come out of it?"
"Flights of fancy, Leon. Idle thoughts during idle times. Nothing may come out of it, but it doesn't mean that I can't think of it. As you have pointed out."
The truth was, these thoughts were like nails driving into her heart, and every time she entertained them, the nails dug into her deeper. It wasn't something feasible—not when neither of them was willing to give up their jobs—and these thoughts should offer her comfort, but all they did was remind her that she wouldn't be able to have what she wanted without sacrifices.
And she wasn't willing to sacrifice her job for him. They both knew that.
They orbited in different systems, but more often than not, they gravitated towards each other, and their paths would intersect, colliding and crashing into each other's arms. Neither one was willing to leave their own system, but they also couldn't let go of the other—they refused to let go of the other. They would separate, only to find themselves in the same orbit a while later. Rinse and repeat.
And maybe this was good for now. Maybe this was what was the best for their situation.
"I think of it too, you know," he said. "I think of it so much I see it in my dreams."
So do I, she wanted to say, but didn't—couldn't.
He finally let go of her hand to unbuckle his seatbelt, only to hold her hand again after. "But you're right. We can't settle down, not in this kind of world, not with the kind of jobs we have." He kissed the back of her hands. "But that doesn't mean that I can't have you. I'll give you my surname if you'll have me."
"And will you have me?"
He leaned towards her to kiss her on her lips. "In a heartbeat." Another kiss." "Will you have me?"
Ada smiled, like warm honey slowly dripping into hot milk. "In a heartbeat."
A/N: Harrold Sunderland? Yeah I love Silent Hill 💕