Ohhh yes, another chapter so soon? Mmmhmm! Lol well, I was planning on doing a double-update, but things have been super busy here and the next chapter isn't quite ripe for the picking yet. If you catch my meaning har har. Anyways, this ones a bit of a shorty, but I hope it will sate your appitite until I freshen the next installment. Enjoy my lovelies.

Ada Wong.

Ada Wong.

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Keep living.

He stared bleakly at the ceiling, thoughts swirling fruitlessly in his head. None of them made coherent sense, nor did he want them to. He no longer wanted to think. Or feel. Or live. Everything was gray and dull in the eyes of Leon Scott Kennedy. The world had lost its splendor and magnificence and its mysteries held less than no interest to him anymore.

It had been several days since that horrible night. The night that, to Leon, had been both the best and worst day of his life. Now, he laid in his hospital bed a broken man. The shot he had taken had been nearly fatal, barely allowing him to escape the intoxicating grasp of death. Oh, how he had wished that it had. He cursed the people that had rescued him. He cursed Ashley for calling for help. And most of all, he cursed Ada.

She had deceived him in the lowest way imaginable. Coaxing him to partake in the sins of the flesh, then betrayal. He had foolishly thought that when she had made her advances toward him, she was not going to fulfill her demonic mission. Perhaps it was the alcohol that clouded his judgment. Perhaps it was the longing and lust for her that he had harbored for eight long years. He had been so foolish. So, so foolish. Whatever the case may have been, he was now more hurt and betrayed than he had ever been in his life. All he wanted was Death. Death, death, death.

What else had he expected from her? To fuck and run away together, constantly fleeing from the dangers of her employers? There was no telling of the monstrosities they could unleash upon him. His employers, who would track him down and imprison him for, quite possibly, treason for consulting with a wanted assassin? That would have not been a life to look forward to at all. His time lying in his hospital bed provided logical answers he had been far too blind to see before.

He knew absolutely nothing about Ada Wong. She was a spy, assassin, and worked for one of the most notorious criminals searched for by the FBI, Albert Wesker. And she obviously liked the color red. He knew nothing else about her except for her physical appearance and the skills he had seen her display with weaponry. She was a ghost to him. He knew more about random people walking by on the street than her.

Why then, did his heart yearn for her? How had she captured his affection so greatly with their first meeting? Perhaps it was because they were fleeing a zombie infested city together. Collectively, he had only actually seen Ada for a grand total of ten hours and that was being generous. And over a span of eight years no less! He shook his head with a hiss. He did not know her. He never did. She obviously knew quite a bit about him, however.

She knew where he lived. She knew he had a drinking problem. She knew he had hidden weapons in his home. Hell, she even knew how to persuade Grindel into trusting her, allowing her to tie a note to his collar. She probably knew he smoked too, that he hated the smell of coconut and that he was allergic to shellfish. That he really loved to eat scrambled eggs with toast covered in raspberry jam for breakfast, or that his favorite brand of shampoo was Redkin. That he hated Mexican food but loved Chinese. That he couldn't stand it when people left cabinets open or taking the last two sips of a drink because he was paranoid of backwash.

Leon was rather sure she knew all of these things about him and more. She had placed hidden cameras around his apartment. But why did it matter? These things were irrelevant now, because he didn't know jack shit about her. Not the slightest damn thing.

A doctor walked in with a clipboard, silently shutting the door behind him. Leon did not even spare the man a glance as he walked over to his bed. The doctor was quite old, in his late seventies or maybe even pushing eighty. His peppered beard hung down past his neck, barely brushing his collarbone. His snow-white hair was very short and groomed, clashing with the thick golden spectacles resting on the bridge of his hooked nose. His eyes were beady and black, magnified by his glasses and accented by the bushy white eyebrows above them.

He glanced down at Leon, adjusting the clipboard in his hands. "Feeling any better today, Mister Kennedy?" he asked politely.

Leon did not move.

The man shifted, slightly unnerved by his silence even though he had expected it. Leon had not spoken to anyone since he arrived twelve days ago. Not to the FBI, the Secret Service, or even the President himself, whom all had come on a daily basis to pry information of his attack out of him. Even the President's daughter had come in every day to see him, silently sitting beside the agent until it was her time to leave. The doctor scratched at the flesh concealed by his beard in wonder. He was a PH. D in Post Traumatic Stress, which was precisely why he was assigned to Leon's care. However, through his expansively long career, he had never quite had a case like Leon's. Most people, within the first week after their ordeal, would finally begin to talk about it. The man before him was an exception. He would not even look at the people that filed into his room.

Doctor Beillows moved to the vacant chair beside the bed. He took a seat, grunting lightly as he adjusted to comfort. Fixing his glasses again, he removed a pen from his pocket. With a faint click, the tip of the pen was exposed. The utensil wobbled slightly in his grip due to his age, and he placed the tip to the blank sheet of paper attached to the clipboard. He coughed to clear his throat, then sniffled.

"Do you know where you are, Leon?" his rough voice filled the small room. He was greeted with silence. "Well, do you know perhaps what day it is?" More silence. He shifted again. "Do you know what hospital you are currently being held in?" Quiet. Beillows' lip twitched in annoyance. He began to think, observatory questions were obviously not working.

He decided to change his tactic. "Leon, I know that whatever has happened to you, it was very serious. You have a bullet in your gut to prove that. I'm not trying to pry the information out of you like every other person that has come in here berating you with questions. I want you to understand that I'm here to help you. We don't have to talk about what happened yet. That can wait until you are absolutely ready to talk about it," he sighed when the blonde remained, as always, quiet. "I know this isn't easy for you, but bottling yourself up is going to do you more harm than good. The human mind was made to feel, and express, deep feelings of emotion. Holding on to it will only hurt you."

The room went silent once more, only filled by the beeping of the machines that occupied the cramped space. Beillows sighed once more, replacing his pen to its rightful resting place and standing. It was clear the man was not ready to talk.

So as the door shut silently behind him, Leon continued to stare at the blank ceiling. He was tired of all these people coming in, asking too many stupid questions, and just in general pestering him. He thought it was clear he did not want to talk to them. Maybe they were just too damn stupid to figure that out. He grunted.

The agent's thoughts began to swarm again. He shut his eyes, hoping to shut out the thoughts that plagued him. To Leon's great relief, sleep enveloped him.

"Well, that's all he said to me. I don't exactly know what else he's planning to do," a faint voice caressed him from his slumber. Leon took a deep breath. He knew that voice all too well. His eyes cracked open. The fuzzy outline of a blonde woman sat beside him. He blinked twice to adjust his vision. There sat Ashley, looking away from him. As he exhaled, she turned her attention to him.

"Oh you're awake now," she smiled slightly; "it's a little awkward talking to someone who's asleep." The first Daughter allowed herself a small laugh. However, she quickly looked down again with a sad expression. "It's not like it matters anyway. You never talk to anyone. I though I finally got you out of the whole 'Leon the Lone Wolf' phase," she sniffled unsteadily, "I guess I was wrong about that."

Ashley looked back up to him, completely unaffected by his blank stare. She had grown used to it, as everyone else had. She coughed, letting her eyes roam the little room. This had become her routine while visiting him. Talk to him and never get an answer, look around the room awkwardly, and leave after an unbearable silence fell over the room.

The blond sniffled again, her gaze resting upon Leon. There was no point in staying here any longer. Ashley stood, pulling her light jacket around her shoulders tightly and grabbing her small purse. With one last longing look, she turned to leave.

"Ashley… wait."

She froze with her hand on the doorknob. Ever so slowly, she looked over her shoulder. "Leon…?" The blondes locked eyes.

"Come back… Please." Leon croaked, his voice shaky and crackling from disuse. He watched as Ashley raced back to her seat, eyes full of compassion and worry. The agent slowly began to question himself. He wasn't quite sure as to why he told her to remain with him. He mentally shrugged. No going back now.

"What is it, Leon?" she asked so quickly, it was nearly an incoherent jumbled mess. The First Daughter watched intently, ready to memorize every syllable the man before her uttered. He coughed, attempting to clear his obscenely dry throat.

"Are you rigged?" he asked quietly. Ashley was slightly shocked by his question.

"Um, no. Why would I be?" she answered unsurely. Why would he ask such a thing?

"Good. I don't appreciate being eavesdropped on." The agent allowed himself a small laugh. Ashley smiled. At least he had some humor, this was good.

"So what's up, Leon? Why haven't you talked to anyone until now?" the question came out a little more awkwardly that she had intended and she winced inwardly at how stupid it had sounded. However, Leon smirked. She let out an inaudible sigh in relief.

"Just didn't want to talk. This is… a very personal matter. Honestly," he let out a forced laugh, "I have no idea how to deal with it myself. All this time laying here… I've been so stupid Ashley. How could I have let myself be so blind?" he turned his head towards her, a pleading look in his eyes. She suppressed a dumbfounded expression. What the hell is he talking about? Before she could voice her confusion, he began again.

"It was her, Ashley. She came to me that night. She told me why she was there, but I still followed her like a lost fucking puppy. She… she was so beautiful. I couldn't resist." He choked on his words, a wave of tears stinging at his eyes. "She did everything I've ever wanted from her and… she betrayed me." A few tears danced down his cheeks. Leon sniffed a few times and took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I knew what she was going to do…. I knew but I still followed…how can someone have such a strong hold on your heart? I've almost died for her, and she tries to kill me. I just don't understand…"

Ashley listened in a mixture of horror and understanding as Leon began repeating himself, becoming more and more incoherent. Eventually, his sorrow overtook him and succumbed to his tears, burying his face into his hands. She gingerly reached out, placing her hand on his shoulder. He did not react, but she kept her hand there regardless.

As she watched him cry, his speech mulled over in her head. She, she, she. Why couldn't he have said a name? Who could he poss…

The woman in red. The woman with the envelope in Arlington. The reason Ashley would never have a chance at being with Leon.

Ada Wong.

Her mouth fell open as the realization struck her. It all made sense. Well, sort of. Why would Ada try to kill Leon? How did she enter the apartment without Ashley waking up as well? What exactly did they… do? Was Leon implying that they had had sex and she shot him?

The woman squinted. She had so many unanswered questions now, but she wasn't sure if she would get an answer for a single one. She squeezed his shoulder lightly, catching his attention the best she could.

"Leon, please. Can you tell me… exactly what happened?" He did not answer. Ashley rubbed his shoulder gently. He hadn't spoken in almost two weeks, not even to himself. Leon gripped his face a little tighter. He hadn't allowed himself any emotion and now it was pouring out like a monsoon. In any other situation, he might have cared and felt a little stupid. But not now. This was Ashley. As much of a gossiping little school girl as she was, he knew this was safe with her. With all the time he had spent with the President's daughter, he knew she only want to comfort him in rare times like this. The agent scooted a little closer to her and instinctively, Ashley hugged him.

Leon returned the embrace, ignoring the screaming pains in his abdomen and wrapping his arms around her shoulders, stuffing his head into the crook of her neck. Although he felt so much sorrow and grief, he allowed himself a small smile through the tears. He was here, alive with someone who cared deeply for him. With a girl, no, a woman that probably understood more than anyone else could possibly hope to.

With a friend.