Chapter 12
It was late when Ada woke the next morning. She was surprised to see it pushing noon when the digital clock came into focus on the nightstand. She never slept that late voluntarily; if she did, it was usually because someone put her down to stay down, and when she did wake up in those situations, it wasn't in a soft, cozy, warm bed.
Despite sitting up with the intent to get up, she immediately fell back into the sheets. Leon's bed was so ungodly comfortable that sleeping in another hour or two would have been easy. Not only was it warm and comfortable, it felt safe, like a childhood sensation of hiding under the covers. And the scent…she lifted the collar of the gray shirt she pilfered to her nose and breathed deeply. It smelled like Leon: as fresh, clean, and crisp as his ideals. It was in the sheets too, but much more noticeable in his clothes.
As much as she wanted to turn over, however, she kicked back the sheets and comforter and swung her legs out, this time managing to get to her feet. The shirt was long enough that it fell just past her hips. Not the most elegant thing she wore on short notice, but it was comfortable. She hoped Leon wouldn't mind.
On the desk near the door, there was a towel and a washcloth folded neatly for her, sitting near a printer and a closed laptop. Leon must have laid them there earlier while she was still sleeping. The fact that he didn't wake her up in the process was another show of how tired she was, how trained he was, or a combination of both.
She didn't take much time to examine his bedroom the night before, but it wasn't too terribly elaborate to begin with: white wallpaper, a soft carpet beneath her bare feet, a wardrobe, dresser, and a bit of artwork on the wall. Simple, clean, and efficient. The most interesting things she noticed when she bent to pick up the towel.
He had various pictures sitting on his desk, all of them framed plainly. She recognized a group shot of him donning a service medal with Graham and his daughter. Probably after Spain, she thought. There were others with him and the president as well, in addition to other dignitaries she didn't recognize, and a small one of the Redfield girl and her brother. It all seemed so professional, with only the smallest hints of anything personal. In a way, it made him seem married to his job, but then again, being a secret government agent probably demanded that.
What exactly does he do for fun, I wonder?
She stepped out in the hall, the guilty sensation of prying into personal space beginning to creep into her thoughts. Sounds from the kitchen told her Leon was busy making himself breakfast, so she moved to the bathroom and cranked the shower valve. As the water heated up and began to steam, she stripped off the shirt and gingerly peeled back to the tape on her side with a grimace of pain. The painkillers from the night before were wearing off, and the fracture in her ribs felt like the point of a knife. The bruising was still fresh and ugly, spreading in a black and yellow patch.
She counted herself lucky. That crash could have pitched her right through the windshield and broken her neck, given her a hundred new scars, or how many other unpleasant outcomes.
The heat and steam from the shower was a welcome reprieve on the wound, almost as much as the night's rest. Leon's shower easily trumped the cheap motels she had been jumping to and from for the past months. She took the time to thoroughly wash off the grime and sweat from her body and hair, forgoing the usual pampering she gave herself; Leon didn't have her products, and she considered herself fairly high-maintenance. Instead, she just used some of his shampoo and body wash; it would have to do, even when she realized that his scent would linger on her for longer.
The thought made the longing grow an inch.
Once out of the shower, she toweled off and took another look at the bruising. The makeshift bandaging had helped, and part of her wanted to feel the gentleness of Leon's hands against her skin again…but then there was the other part of her that was ashamed from the awkwardness of it all. So many times she had used her own body as a tool in the game of espionage. The fact that it worked on him without her even trying made her feel guilty.
She knew the first aid kit was stored under the sink, and it wasn't hard to replicate what he did the night before. Another swathe of white medical tape soon covered the patch of bruising on her right side, serving to immobilize her chest cavity just a little bit while her ribs tried to heal.
Not having a brassiere was turning out to be more of a nuisance than she initially thought. Without a set of clothes, the only option was to slip on her dress, which wasn't practical, and it was crusted with a layer of sweat and dust. She sighed and flipped her still damp bangs out of her eyes, then slipped on her panties and the shirt.
Maybe he'll let me pick up some things. That still doesn't fix the fact that I don't have pants or a bra now…
Well, she was sure Leon had his share of women over the years, so one walking out of his bathroom in just a shirt shouldn't be a big shock. She hoped.
He was still in the kitchen when she stepped into the living room. The only thing that separated the two rooms was a granite counter top with a few stools next to it. She was barefoot, stepping silently, but he immediately turned when she entered. He gave a small, airy laugh and grinned; she even caught a look of disbelief in his eyes, but it was understandable. The last person he expected to walk into his kitchen with nothing but a shirt and wet, stringy hair was Ada Wong.
"'Morning," she said, stifling a lingering yawn.
"'Morning," he replied, and then turned back to what he was doing. "Found the shirts, I see."
"Yeah." She plucked at the collar. "Sorry, I should have asked first."
Leon shook his head. "Nope. I'm sorry I forgot to mention it. How'd you sleep?"
The conversation was so casual she thought it might kill her. "Fine. Thanks again…you know, for letting me sleep in your bed."
He assured her it was no problem as he set a few plates between them. Ada was going to decline any breakfast, but then she smelled browning toast and saw the jam and butter along with juice. It wasn't a buffet, but it was a healthy, substantial start to the day, and she realized that she was starving after the efforts of last night. She took a square of toast and started chewing, trying not to look or sound as hungry as she felt.
Leon helped himself to his own toast, washing it down with some orange juice. The two of them ate in silence for a while, and just as she was considering breaking it, he beat her to it.
"I'm going to have to contact the GSA sooner or later."
She grimaced, but there was no point in arguing. Instead, she nodded. "I know. If you don't check in, they're going to start looking."
"And that's exactly what Wesker and Crow want," he finished as he drained the rest of his glass. It made him sound defeated. "They'll be able to piggy back on our operations, and we won't be able to stop them when they find us."
"You've been silent this whole time. Don't you think it's going to be a little awkward when you call today and say that you're in DC?"
Leon pursed his lips, looking down at the countertop in thought. "I gave it some thought last night. Assuming we neutralized all of our pursuers, they don't know that we escaped together. If I call the GSA and say you ditched me later that night, it might be enough to give them the slip, at least for now. I could say that I tried to hunt you down, but was unsuccessful, and just got in here. They won't think to track me as closely."
It sounded like a good idea. Ada considered it carefully through another piece of toast, watching him carefully as he spoke. Something just seemed off the way he said it…there was sort of a dejected sigh in his voice, like he didn't agree with his own words.
"I'd expect nothing less from you, Leon. The plan sounds solid, but you sound like you have your doubts." She placed her elbows on the counter to lean in a little after a sip from her glass. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'll call Fischer and tell him the story. He trusts me, and he'll believe me."
Bingo. She hit the nail on the head. "You don't like lying to your own people," she said. "Even though you have to."
"What I don't like is not knowing who to trust," he said, starting on another piece of toast. She felt his eyes linger on hers as he chewed, but she couldn't blame him. She stared right back. "I have no idea how far up the infiltration goes. I've worked with Fischer for years, but I now I'm starting to think I can't trust him either."
"You think he would put himself in the line of fire with that incident in New York?" she offered. "If Wesker wanted Graham dead, they wouldn't need to go to such public extremes."
"Unless Wesker wanted it to be a public spectacle," Leon countered. "Or maybe the whole thing was a feint to keep us guessing, I don't know. It's likely Fischer isn't working against us, but it could be anyone in the GSA that has access to any of our information. I tell Fischer one thing, it won't be long before a mole knows it, too."
"However it falls, you're not going to be able to hide this from your boss," she said. An idea had just come to her. "Do you trust the president?"
He rolled his eyes. "Of course I do. Graham is the one person I know I can trust, regardless of anything. If I can't trust the President, then we're all screwed."
"Then check in with the GSA. Tell them I got away, but that I gave you the information before we were ambushed. You have Spencer's location…" she drained her juice, the sweet tang of oranges cleansing her pallet. "…and the world has a shiny new counter-bioterrorism organization to apprehend him."
Leon paused, and then grinned, seeing her point. "You're saying I should propose to let the BSAA handle this. Graham and the UN set it up, not the GSA."
Ada nodded. "Exactly. Don't want a potential mole to get the information? Put it in a place he can't access it, at least while they haven't infiltrated it yet. If the BSAA is fast enough, they can get to Spencer before he disappears again, or before Wesker and Crow can get to him first."
She pushed the last corner of toast into her mouth and chewed while Leon thought it over. They were working with very little, and there was too much guesswork for her taste. But in the end, he nodded, then looked up at her.
"Alright. We'll do it. I'll call Fischer, tell him that I have the information you gave me, and that we can only discuss it with the President. You'll stay here and lay low until we can move you safely. Sound good?"
She nodded. It was as good as they were going to get. Leon's apartment seemed like it would be a safe enough place until they grabbed Spencer. If they could just trick whoever the insider at the GSA was, everything would work out.
She looked at him with a grin, one final thought on her mind. "Do you think you could pick up some clothes for me along the way?"