Chapter Eleven
Irony
Ada Wong sat in the dormitory window, leaning her head against the cool dark glass. The dorm had been built to house around fifty scientists; now it held only her. She wouldn't have minded -- would have welcomed the privacy -- but the rows of empty bunk beds were giving her the creeps.
Besides, a bit of company would distract her from what she'd done.
But the only company to be had was Wesker's, and he wouldn't appreciate interruptions. Unless, of course, she decided to have a little chat with Claire or Leon. She didn't think either of them would be thrilled to see her either.
She smiled at herself in the glass. Apparently no one wanted to see her. She didn't even really want to see herself.
She ran a long, pointed nail over her reflection. Beautiful enough. She knew that. Used that. She wondered if that was why Wesker let her live. He'd killed others who failed him, but twice now he'd spared her life -- once when he'd saved her in Raccoon City, and again now that she'd betrayed him.
Betrayed him to Leon.
But then betrayed Leon to him.
She closed her eyes against her reflection. Yes, beautiful enough, but treachery, fear, loathing lurked in those dark, exotic eyes. Perhaps it would have been better if Wesker had killed her. Or perhaps she should take matters into her own hands.
But she knew she wouldn't do it. That was the worst part of all: knowing that eventually she'd get over this, leave Leon in the past, let her weakness be forgotten.
Without wanting to, she remembered the night's events: Wesker's arrival on Leon's heels, his cold, controlled demeanor far more frightening than any display of anger. He'd backed her into a corner and she'd been sure he meant to kill her -- been plotting and rejecting modes of escape -- but he'd only stared at her for a long, long time, long enough for even Ada's will to crack.
And then he'd given her the choice.
Well, it wasn't as though Leon could have rescued Claire anyway. Wesker knew about him; Wesker would stop him. What difference did it make if Ada had a hand in it? She was saving her own life, and not at the expense of Leon's. It was too late for him, whatever she did. She could only die before him, or prove herself to Wesker by helping his death along. Why, if he'd known, he probably would have preferred to save her life, even at the expense of his own.
But still, the look on his face when she'd jogged up behind him in the lab, explained that she couldn't let him go it alone... and the very different look on his face when she kicked him over the railing and he'd lay staring up at her while Wesker approached.
Over a railing. It had a strange sort of irony to it. She wondered if it was intentional. Probably not. Wesker was many things, but subtle wasn't one of them.
She didn't know what Wesker would do to Leon now, and she didn't want to. He'd spared her that, at least, refusing to let her leave the facility but allowing her to retreat to a dormitory rather than witness what she was sure would be a slow and painful death. She lowered her face to her hands, trembling.
She was a traitor both ways. Well, what else was new? She'd done what she had to in order to survive. Who could blame her for that?
Leon, for one. Wesker for another.
She bore a strange sort of guilt for betraying Wesker, too. Oh, he was pure evil, she knew that. But the fact remained that, whatever his reason, he'd always treated Ada with respect. He'd dealt with her as fairly and honestly as the context of their relationship allowed, and she'd repaid him by stabbing him in the back. Maybe that was why she'd allowed him to convince her to capture Leon, as much as anything. The fact was, she owed Wesker.
She owed Leon, too.
And as Wesker had told her in his sharp, chilling voice, it was Ada who had killed him in the end. If she'd refused to reveal Wesker's location, Leon would have gone home, angry and hurt but living and breathing. Never in a million years would he have found the base. But Ada had betrayed Wesker, and in so doing she'd signed Leon Kennedy's death warrant.
Ironic.
It sucked. She hated to think in such coarse terms, but there was really no other way to describe it. The situation sucked. Little Miss Ada Wong, independent since the age of twelve, a force to be reckoned with not long after... She'd never taken help from anyone, ever, never allowed herself to make connections.
Yet here she was, owing two men her life time and time again. Two men who just so happened to be mortal enemies. And here she was, effectively grounded by her employer.
It sucked.
Her breath condensed on the glass in soft puffs. She raised one finger and traced a line, letting cracks of night trickle in.
Letting darkness overwhelm her.
Letting herself die a little bit more.
Letting Leon go.