Chapter 16

Her body awash with sweat, Ada Wong lay somewhere between the line of sleep and awake, nude and tangled in the sheets of Leon's bed. The droplets on her skin finally began to feel cool as her inner temperature began to subside from the high she just experienced. It wasn't the over-and-done-with feeling after the sex she was used to the past six years. This had to be what satisfaction felt like.

Leon's arm was around her shoulder, holding her body close to his with her neck softly nestled in the crook of his elbow. She thought he had drifted off some time ago, judging from the slow, steady rhythm of his breath on her neck, but then his other hand began to idly explore her bare body. He wasn't invasive; just letting the tips of his fingers glance over her skin, running up and down the curves like a collector might admire a classic car. It was teasing of him, but she let him amuse himself. He'd earned it, after all.

It wasn't until several minutes later that she realized his hand was drifting to specific spots, spots that she remembered. They were the faint scars that were normally just barely noticeable in full light, that she caught him staring at when she partially stripped upon first arriving in his home.

His fingers found one, a lopsided hook on the curve of her left hip, and then tapped thoughtfully, but gently, on the skin. Almost like he was inquiring about it.

"Third grade," she murmured.

"Hmm?"

"I got it in third grade," she repeated quietly, a little more awake this time. "Fell over the front of my handlebars when I hit a curb on my bike."

He chuckled softly, probably about thinking of her as a kid. He toyed with the discolored patch of skin a little longer, then let his hand drift further up. The trace of his finger was a soft purr on her damp skin, especially as it moved up the sensitive skin on her side. The sensation was joined by another on her neck: his lips as he planted a soft kiss. "What about this one?"

It was the jagged one below her shoulder blade. Her muscles instinctively flexed when she remembered. "Mexico, about four years ago. A chase through a slum…what they did to me after that didn't leave any scars."

His silence was uneasy, but his hand lingered, tracing a pattern on her skin around it. Goosebumps rose up all over. Only he could make a bad memory like that feel so good.

"It's not what you think," she said, a little exasperated through the exhaustion, "but it involved a car battery. I got sloppy, but I was lucky someone had my back. If I didn't, I'd have a lot more scars for you to find…"

What she didn't want was pity. Her job had demands, and that meant risks. She knew what the risks where, and sometimes, you got the worst of it. Like four years ago. His job was almost the same as hers, so he couldn't argue.

Another kiss touched her neck as he nuzzled against the soft mess that was her hair. The bangs were in disarray, the raven locks damp with moisture. Leon's hand traced again, this time across her back to her other shoulder, this one pressed between the mattress and his chest. He didn't have to ask about the one he found.

"You know which one that is," she said, the pang of the memory trickling through her as he touched it. His hands were always soft, but she wondered if he could feel the metal surgical pins beneath it and the plate that held what was left of her shoulder blade together after Annette Birkin's bullet tore right through it.

"Yeah, I do," he replied.

The seconds ticked between them. His hand didn't leave the scar. "…you want me to apologize?" she asked

"For what?"

Ada rolled over, what little of the sheet that was on her shifting. The room was stifling, a blanket in itself. The comforter that had been on the bed to start with now lay kicked off to the side, and even then, the thin blanket felt like a quilt.

She found herself staring straight into his eyes, his face an inch away. "I don't know, maybe for being what I was to you. For walking into your life. For not being what I should have been." His arm still around her, she slung one of hers across his body, drawing herself closer to his warmth and taking comfort in his presence.

"You think I should hold it against you?" he asked, returning the embrace.

"You should," she admitted. "Anyone else would. I'd say you're entitled to it."

"Well, just be glad I'm not anyone else," he answered with a smile, going for her lips.

After just now, I'm glad you're not. That scar, while painful to remember, felt reassuring, like it was a reminder that she was still alive. If she didn't have the one on her shoulder, she'd have an even deeper one on her heart, one that would have never healed.

She accepted the kiss with one of her own, and for a while, she was content with that. But then she broke away and looked him in the eye.

"I'm sorry," she said, and she meant it. "I always thought I had my head on straight, that I knew what I wanted, but I couldn't even admit to myself that I was endangering someone I cared about."

It took her six years to finally figure that out, and for that she felt a little ashamed. How long would it have taken if things had been different? How long would it have been until her wake-up call was him lying dead before her? She tried not to think about it, instead thinking about how she was there in his arms. That helped.

Leon didn't answer her at first. Whether that meant apology accepted, or if he refused to acknowledge she needed to apologize, she didn't know, but the silence felt good. Peaceful. It was off her chest now. He knew what she felt, and the feeling was mutual.

"You didn't need to apologize," he finally said. Ada thought he looked a little sad, but it passed quickly. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry too."

She had to suppress a snort of laughter. "Really? Sorry for what?"

"Well, I haven't been the most 'understanding' about us either. Maybe if I had said something, we'd be able to understand each other a little more."

"Maybe," she countered, "But which of us left the other shot and bleeding twice?"

"Exactly," he teased. "I should have told you to go a little easier on me."

She laughed, and they locked lips again. He had loosened up so much, it was amazing. Just talking to him now, he seemed more at peace, just like she was. In the past, what little conversation they had to share was never this relaxed, this understanding. Any humor was usually cynical or sarcastic. Maybe it was because he was just tired, but it sounded like he dropped his own burden as well.

She rolled back over with a contented sigh after breaking away, his taste still fresh on her lips. Maybe this was even as far as happiness. "What happens now?" she asked dreamily.

Leon let out a sigh of his own, then paused, crooning in her neck. "I'm not sure. You're still wanted, the BSAA's taken a hit, but we got Wesker. Maybe it'll be enough."

"Enough to confess to your boss that you're sleeping with an enemy spy?" she chuckled, partly from what he said, the other part the tickling on her neck. Way to kill the mood.

"Hm, thought you went rogue." She felt him smiling against her neck. "And besides, you were instrumental in Wesker's takedown…maybe he'll let you work for us. I don't remember signing anything that prohibits interoffice romance."

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She still had her doubts that Chris and Jill took down Wesker that easily. He was a creature of habit, and one of his habits included coming back to life. He always had a back door, always a back up plan…she just didn't think he would drop all of that and get sloppy at the last second. There just wasn't enough to call this a victory yet.

"So let's say we got Wesker then," she said. "That leaves Crow still out there, and we have nothing on him."

"We'll find him eventually," he assured her. "Without Wesker, he's got to be feeling the net begin to tighten. And even if we don't, Spencer had a goldmine of information. Some of that has to help with cleaning up the rest of the terrorist cells out there. So if not Crow, we at least have that."

"Hm. What kind of information?" That piqued her curiosity a little bit. All the while the operation had been going on, she had been left twiddling her thumbs alone at the apartment. Then Leon came back, and well…

"Some files, Spencer's memoirs, stuff like that," he replied with a yawn. "Didn't get a chance to look at it yet…I think Hunnigan said she'd be looking at it tonight, but there has to be something in there we can use."

At least there's that. Maybe this whole thing wasn't a clusterfuck after all.

The digital clock on the nightstand shifted another digit, slowly creeping past midnight. It was hard to believe it had been only a couple of hours since they exchanged blows and ended up in the sack. Parts of her body were still sore–for more reason than one–but the pain in her ribs was beginning to subside a little. It had flared up several times, especially against the motions of his body, and now sat slowly burning like an ember in her side. But the rest of her minor injuries were fading fast.

She had almost drifted off again when a soft buzz sounded. Leon shifted, his warmth disappearing as he rolled over to reach the cuff of his pants. He pulled them closer to get the phone out of his pocket, then checked the number.

"Fischer," he muttered, then grunted and pulled his arm from around her. "Looks like I have to get going."

He tried to sit up, but she caught him by the elbow. "Thinking about just leaving me like a one night stand?" she purred in his ear. Despite her fatigue, she felt like she was getting her second wind…or in this case, more like third.

Leon smirked a little. "He's probably been waiting for a while. There wasn't much we could do on our end when we got the news about Jill. If he's calling now, that means we've got something to work with."

She noticed that sadness again when he mentioned Valentine. She had been a friend, and now she was gone. That she could accept, so she didn't want to press too hard. But then he smiled. "Unless you have a better offer?"

She smiled back. "I do."

Still holding his wrist, she pulled him back down to the mattress, pulling herself up at the same time. What little covering her slid off, baring her body as she climbed on top of him. "Fischer's waited this long. He can wait another twenty minutes for you to call back…"