Phoenix:
7.
Dark
2004
Serpiente Rojo, Spain
As a little girl, she'd never been afraid of the dark. She knew even before her Daddy imparted wisdom to her that she kept close to her heart to this day: nothing in the dark was anything worse than what we saw in the light. It was just the lack of sight that made it so terrifying.
The dark couldn't hurt you.
She had trouble believing it now.
Ashley eased through pitch black. Her breath hurt. She breathed so slowly it was making her dizzy. A rat squeaked somewhere at her feet and had her nearly leaping out of her skin.
Some hero she was.
Her foot bumped into an overturned stack of books and rustled. She nearly fell over in fear. She had to get it together here; it was pathetic to be this terrified. As far as her limited senses could tell her, she was alone in the dark.
Maybe that was part of the problem. Being alone was making her nervous as hell. She wished Luis was there to crack a joke. She tried it herself to give herself courage, "It's darker than the crack of Batman's ass in here."
It almost worked. The humor surged inside her and had her find a full deep breath. Ok. Good. She was still alive inside her frightened shell.
She moved into a narrow archway beyond a door and found herself in a library. Torches lighted it. Surprised, she glanced around and absorbed how much-lost information was dangling on walls or piled on the floor. When she spotted a small battered copy of Don Quixote on the floor, she tucked it into her skirt at her back and felt better.
Luis had told her the copy his grandfather had given him had burned with him in his house. She was betting he'd like another copy. If nothing else, for the memories. He'd given her the vest she wore; it seemed the right thing to do to give him something in return.
Gifts - something normal you did for friends.
Were they friends? They were. Maybe they didn't hang out or go surfing, but they were friends. Friends helped each other. Leon was her friend too.
She snuck under a layer of books and came upon a desk with some keys. Curious, she picked them up. They jingled in her palm. A blue lamp cast a half-moon on the wall in front of her. Ashley picked it up, and it rattled happily.
Blue light.
Blue flame.
It had worked on those knights in the armory.
There was a rustle of sound behind her, and she turned as the first metallic shriek made her freeze. The books above her started falling like missiles. One struck her in the shoulder as she shouted, and a giant sword came through the paper and leather to thrust into the wall inches to the left of her face.
She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled beneath where it lodged. The knight jerked on the blade, and Ashley drug the lamp with her, shaking, driven now by sheer survival. The keys jingled where she'd thrust them into her pocket.
When she reached an opening, she surged to her feet and ran. Her boots struck the floor, the lamp bobbled in her hand, and she rushed forward while the sound of pursuit chased her. There were two staircases - down and up. She hesitated, and a pile of books came tumbling down on her.
They hit her like bullets, making her shout as they drove her to the floor with their weight. She hit her back, a knight appeared above her, and she screamed. High. Loud. She threw an arm over her face as if it would save her, and a voice shouted, "Ashley! THE LAMP!"
Right.
The lamp. The blue light stopped them.
Her hand grabbed the lamp and thrust it forward, the blue moon landed on the horrible tentacled face of her attacker, and it stopped. It jerked spastically for a moment and froze in mid-swing. The sword's blade was in its downward motion - meant to cleave her in half.
She kept the lamp on it while she scrambled up and back. The books fell off her body as if she'd shed a dusty blanket. She backed up slowly, and Luis came out of the darkness.
Afraid, she whispered, "Where's Leon?"
He joined her at her side, glancing through the dark, "I threw him my lock picks, but we got separated by about fifty of them. We need to move quickly. This way."
Ashley held the blue lamp on that knight as they backed up. Her foot brushed the stairs, and he told her, "Easy. Let me guide you."
He held her elbow as she backed up the stairs, with him taking the lead.
At the top of the stairs, Ashley kept the lamp on the knight as Luis tried to raise Leon on his communicator. It signaled twice, and Ashley felt dread fill her belly as Luis failed to get a response. She whimpered, and he told her, "Don't give up that easily, amiga. He knows to head for the ballroom. He might have thought you would as well. Look here."
He showed her the blip on the communicator. Surprised, she glanced at his face, and he managed to look chagrined, "Yes. Trackers. I tapped his system to follow you both."
She didn't even care about the violation of it. She was glad he had. The blip was moving, meaning Leon was alive and headed toward the ballroom, or his body was.
She dug down for that hope and believed he was alive.
The blip stopped. The communicator buzzed, and they caught a flash of Leon fighting.
Alive.
Ashley breathed easier as Luis picked the lock on the balcony door and opened it, looking into the room they'd left behind. He jerked his head and hurried through as he shut it behind her. They stood overlooking the cage left behind. Bodies were everywhere. Leon was nowhere.
Her heart hammered as Luis encouraged her, "It's ok. I've never met a tougher hombre than your white knight. Don't lose hope."
Luis was right - hope was enough. In the worst of times, hope was all they had.
She nodded and carried the lamp with her as they moved. A long hallway greeted them as they opened a set of doors. The windows were busted out to one side, offering a view of the night sky and a draft of frigid air. She shivered as Luis tried the doors at the end and complained, "Locked."
Ashley offered the keys in her pocket, "Maybe these?"
He tried them and shook his head. "Not that easy, sadly. But let's try this."
Luis climbed out the window beside them and offered her a hand to ease over the broken glass. They curved up a flight of stone stairs and emerged into a pantry. Dried meats hung from the ceiling, and pots dangled on hooks. He told her, "The ballroom is through here. Did you bring your dancing shoes?"
She shook her head, "I can't salsa. I can foxtrot and waltz."
He chuckled, "Salsa, no, pequena valquiria. Flamenco."
Ashley pictured him flamenco dancing, making her feel a little better. He did a little tap dance and snapped his fingers over his head. The fear receded just a little more. Maybe the darkness was oppressive. Maybe things were terrible, but as long as Leon was alive and Luis was laughing - maybe she could face the darkness with the same aplomb.
She pulled the book from her back and held it out to him. Surprised, he glanced down at it and back at her face. A little sheepish, she told him, "It's not a vest...it probably seems so stupid right now...I just-"
He shook his head and took the book. The simple pleasure on his face made it worth the gesture. He laughed softly. He lifted his eyes to her face and said softly, "...it is the best gift I've ever been given. Gracias."
She shrugged a little, embarrassed. "Seems stupid with everything going on."
"Not stupid," he denied and grinned at her, "sweet. You are a warrior and a pure soul, Ashley Graham. To think of others when you are in danger is a noble thing. Don't lose that, no matter how dark things seem. What do they say? It's always darkest before dawn."
When she nodded, Luis added, "We're almost there. I promise."
He eased open the door to the ballroom, and there was no dancing. Not now. The battle surged below them. Leon - surrounded by the most horrible-looking bugs she'd ever seen. He blasted with a shotgun. He kicked. He parried and punched and rolled.
One leaped at him like it would take his head, and Luis shot it from the balcony. He commanded, "The stairs Ashley, now. Go toward the drawbridge. Hurry."
She ran toward the stairs as he leaped the railing to join the battle with Leon. As she all but flew down them, one of the bugs landed in front of her, hissing and twitching. She aimed the lamp at it, but it didn't care. It jumped for her face, and she backed up the stairs as she kicked wildly.
The kick landed, and the thing went onto its back, sliding down the stairs while it twitched and chittered in rage. Two bugs jumped for Leon down below. Without thinking, she tossed the lamp over the railing at them. It hit, it ignited, and they burned while Leon glanced up at her through the fire. She could have tossed the lamp on the bug blocking her way, but she'd chosen his life over hers.
Ashley backed up the stairs, unsure what to do as more gathered at the bottom. She kept on backing up until her back bumped into something. She saw Leon's expression in that smoke and flame - pure horror, and it made her blood turn cold.
Terror turned her bones to liquid as she turned, slow, so slow, and gazed up at the thing in the red cloak behind her. She shouted in denial as it looped an enormous claw around her belly and jerked. Leon's voice echoed, "ASHLEY!"
Her name echoed as if it were the voice of Zeus, like thunder from Mount Olympus. She'd never heard him gripped by fear. She'd never heard him desperate.
He was both now.
His shout made the terror taste like copper in her mouth as she fought, kicking, trapped back to front against the monster that held her. The keys in her pocket jingled musically as it simply turned with her bound in its arms. She screamed. Rage surged through the fear to make her fight harder than she'd ever fought before.
Bullets struck its back as it walked. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
The darkness closed around them as they moved. She wanted to believe in the dawn. She wanted to believe in anything.
But it felt like her hope burned on the floor of that ballroom beside those bugs they'd left behind.
2005
It was hard accepting that her father had been wrong all those years. He'd looked under her bed, so big, strong, and insurmountable. He'd checked her closet and sought monsters in the shadows with his trusty flashlight and mustache. He'd scared them away, and when she was older - he told her they didn't exist.
He lied.
The dark was full of things that wanted to kill you.
It was seldom full of things that cared if you lived.
As she slept and dreamed of those things in the dark, the logical part of her mind reminded her she wasn't dead. She wasn't dying. She wasn't infected and hopeless, and she wasn't helpless.
But she felt helpless.
Something surged out of the shadows and came for her throat. Weaponless and weak, Ashley screamed and battled with all she had - her fists. She struck, and it connected. And the boiling darkness receded, licking its wounds and waiting to strike again.
What came from it now had Jack Krauser's face. He taunted her, the tip of his blade catching the light like a fallen star. It winked. He winked. And he promised, "I'm gonna cut you into pieces, little girl. I'm gonna throw the best parts to my dogs."
The hounds swirled at his ankles - red-eyed and rabid. Hell hounds, they bayed, and she heard it echo like the toll of bells before the River Styx. She cringed, fists lifted, and spat, "Come and get it, you stupid son of a bitch!"
He surged. He laughed. And the thing in the red cloak came for her, casting aside that cloak to show its hideous form beneath. It rose tall and horrible, chittering, flicking its limbs at her tired body. They cut. She bled.
And she hit it in the face with her closed fist.
It answered that pathetic strike with its tail - thrust right between her breasts into her heart.
The terror drove her from sleep. She awoke screaming. The shadows shifted, and the knife in her hand swung.
As her attacker caught her wrist, the slap of skin on skin made her shout in horror as a voice commanded, "Stop. Stop, it's me."
She didn't hear him at first, and the terror was all she could taste. She fought, throwing her other fist at his face; he caught that one and spun her around in his arms. He bound her back to his front, pinned her arms to her chest, and breathed into her ear, "It's Leon. It's Leon, Ashley. I know you can hear me."
Ashley's labored breaths filled the dark room. Leon's eyes were white in the shadows. He advised softly, "It's ok. It's alright now."
Voice-breaking, she demanded, "What are you doing here?"
His answer broke away a piece of her resolve, "You were screaming."
Of course, she was.
The nightmare had sent her into a damn screaming fit. It wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last.
Ashley hunched forward in his grip. She let go of the knife, and it plopped sadly to the mattress beside her thigh. He was kneeling on the bed behind her, clutching her like a child with night terrors against him. He was warm.
She felt so cold.
Her nightlight had gone out sometime while she was sleeping.
She never slept in darkness anymore. Because her father had lied. And the night was full of monsters.
Most of them lived in her head - but some? Some lived in the world she was trying to learn to protect. She had to be better than this. She had to be stronger, smarter, stronger. She wasn't going to prove anything by falling apart.
But she wasn't ready for him to let her go.
Not yet.
Not yet.
The shame of that had her whispering, "When they took me...I could hear you screaming my name."
He was quiet against her back, holding on, his grip still tight. His hands secure. He wasn't pinning her now; he was holding her. She leaned back against him and laid her cheek on his collarbone as she confessed, "I didn't know you could do that."
After a moment, he queried, "...what?"
"Be afraid," she admitted and laughed sadly, "you sounded so terrified."
His cheek shifted and laid against the crown of her head, "...what did they do to you?"
Ashley inhaled twice before she could answer, "...it doesn't matter now."
His silence made her ache to talk about it. But when she talked, she remembered. She didn't want to remember. That damn shrink had wanted her to remember. She hated shrinks.
They were so nosy. They were so superior. They looked at you and talked to you like you were a toddler - too stupid to understand your own feelings. She didn't need a goddamn doctor; she needed an exorcist. Because the demons in her fucking soul were legion.
To her surprise, he spoke into the silence, "They told me to stay away."
She went still, listening as he continued, "They told me to stay away from Raccoon City..."
When he said nothing else, she offered, "...why didn't you?"
His laugh was self-deprecating, "I was a cop. I wanted to help. I thought I could make a difference."
Quietly, she admonished, "One guy?"
His chest rumbled as he laughed again, softer this time, more forgiving, "I'm always one guy."
That part was true.
Ashley took three deep breaths. "When you saw what was happening...why didn't you run?"
Leon flapped his lips before he answered, "I met a girl in a gas station on my way into town. A college girl...looking for her brother. She was tough. She was ballsy as fuck. She wouldn't back down...I couldn't be the kid who abandoned a girl who needed my help. What kind of cop would that have made me?"
Ashley teased and made him laugh, "A smart one?"
Leon decided, "You're right about that. But brains aren't my forte."
A little stab of regret had her murmuring, "No...it was brawn, right? Like Luis said."
"Yeah," he gruffed sadly, "shoot first, ask questions later. One guy against the world - the Leon Kennedy special."
"Did you save the girl?"
He shook his head and chuckled, "Not that one. She saved herself."
With a tug of envy, Ashley declared, "I wish I was like that."
Without missing a beat, he returned, "You are, Ashley. You don't have to kick in doors to be strong."
Absorbing that, she looked into the moonlight streaming through her window and told him, "I used to love nighttime. My favorite time. So peaceful and serene..." Her voice broke again as she spat, "I hate that they stole that from me."
It wasn't the only thing they'd taken. They'd taken her innocence. They'd taken her belief that good would always win. They'd taken her ability to trust herself. She was still so afraid something would happen, and she'd pick up a gun and finish what she'd started in that courtyard.
Could she ever really be sure she was herself?
Would she ever stand in the moonlight again and not be afraid she was a werewolf waiting for the change?
She whispered sadly, "They took everything from me that mattered, Leon. Everything that made me me. I don't know what to do now. Who am I? I don't know. I can't find my way without doubt anymore. I don't know what to do."
With a slight note of anger, Leon commanded, "You go with your gut, you follow it, and you stick with it. You show them what you're made of by never, ever giving up, Ashley. And then? By god, you take it back."
His strength seeped into her back. It settled in her skin. It went beneath to her bones and her blood and her soul. She let it surround her and imbue her with that surety that seemed so much a part of him. He was a man who took the fear and turned it into purpose. It propelled him forward. It gave him a reason to hold on.
She begged desperately, "What if I'm not strong enough?"
And he told her, "Sometimes all you can do when you're down, and the world is spinning too fast, is hold on, Ashley. Hold on until the scenery changes. Because I promise you..." His lips brushed her ear, "this too shall pass."
He was such a mystery to her. A cold man. A warm man. A cheesy man. A dedicated one. He had layers upon layers; you could spend a lifetime trying to peel them back to find the core of him.
The way he'd spoken of the girl in Raccoon City made a minor niggle of jealousy rear its ugly head. He'd clearly respected her. Something about the tone of admiration made Ashley wish he'd speak of her that way.
Maybe he did. Perhaps he spoke of her like she was the toughest thing on two legs when she was gone. Wasn't he always trying to encourage her to feel that way?
He was careful with names too. He never used them. She knew he'd known Ada Wong of old. How he spoke of the spy held a tinge of something like a betrayal that Ashley wanted to ask about. But he wouldn't say. And she'd never ask.
His past was his business. She didn't like the other recruits joking about it, and she didn't like thinking of him being judged for it. They'd all done things that they had to live with. Who was she to judge him for killing anyone? Each bullet, each swing of his knife, each piece of himself he'd traded for her safety - he'd done it to protect her.
She wouldn't repay that with resentment or condemnation.
She'd just take that strength he offered and inject it into her fear like a cure. Eventually, she'd believe him. Eventually, she'd believe in herself even if the nightmares lingered in the dark like shadows.
Ashley knew she could ask him to leave. She should. She should ask him just to go and deal with her own demons. It was easy. The girl he'd praised in Raccoon probably would have done it.
But she wasn't that girl. She was still trying to figure out exactly who she was. But whoever it was, she didn't want to be alone.
Not yet.
Not yet.
Not. Yet.
He kept his arms banded around her, compressing her central nervous system, bringing her body a kind of peace she hadn't expected. She didn't fight it. She sank into it. Her nose settled at the hollow of his throat, and she smelled him.
He smelled like rain and whiskey.
Her cheek brushed against the little metal lump in his shirt. She knew what it was. She'd given him the Saint Michael's medal after he'd gotten her home. The patron saint of cops, the patron saint of warriors - the patron saint of guys who risked their lives for those who couldn't.
It fit him.
She'd given it to him the moment she realized there was no god, not one that would let the horror they'd seen exist. Not any god she could believe in. Even if she didn't believe in angels, she believed in him. And that was as close to faith as she'd ever had.
He'd yelled her name in the dark to let her know he was still there for her. He held her now to show he was still here. And she wasn't strong enough to tell him to stop.
Not yet.
Not yet.
Not. Yet.
And he never let go - even when she finally did - and slept dreamlessly in his arms for the first time in over a year.
