Author's note: Here's the first scene from Leon's perspective.
"It's done," Ashley breathed once she had trimmed the last stitch.
Leon's every muscle released. The world tilted, and he found himself leaning against her, taking support rather than giving it for once.
Her hands slid over his shoulders, their pressure firm and sure as if this, at least, she did without thinking or worrying about getting something wrong, as if her instinct all along had been to comfort him.
"Will you be okay?" Ashley asked.
"Yeah," he sighed against her, soothed by the warmth of her palms through his shirt. "Thanks."
Her fingers skimmed off him again, and she reached for the can of disinfectant on the dressing table. As before, she held a hand to his eyes before spraying, so he didn't bother to hide the flinch that she couldn't see as the alcohol stung raw flesh.
Returning to the sink, she rinsed out her scarf that he'd left there. Then, carefully, she lifted his red-soaked hair and wiped it clean. Now that the risk of causing him pain was past, she didn't seem troubled to deal with blood.
"At least that jerk didn't ruin your haircut," she said, sweeping his bangs back into place.
He smiled at her assessment that he'd put care into that aspect of his appearance. "That'd be unforgivable," he agreed.
Gently thorough, she cleaned the rest of his face, a light frown pursing her lips.
"I'm sorry, Leon," she said eventually, confirming his guess that she was worrying about him again.
He looked in her eyes. This close, he could see the green halo at the edge of her irises. "You did a great job with the stitches."
Ashley shook her head, redirecting him. "What I mean is, I'm sorry you got hurt because of me."
Of course. She still had trouble accepting that he put her own safety above his own. "This isn't your fault," Leon urged. "This kind of stuff is my job." If he wasn't here, he'd be doing something like this somewhere else.
"I know. You're gonna get me home or die trying," she said, finally putting into words what he'd only ever implied before. The acknowledgment was a relief: for a moment, at least, neither of them had to pretend about what he was risking for her.
Ashley's eyes tensed, soft wrinkles forming in her smooth, perfect skin, and Leon knew he would have taken any number of scythes to the head to keep hers unblemished.
"But what makes me so special?" she said. "My dad's somebody important, but that doesn't make my life worth more than yours." Her lashes fluttered, whisking away the radiance of a tear before it could fall. "Don't get me wrong. I'm really, really glad you're here."
"Hey." He reached out to her, his armored glove feeling too rough against her bare arm. How could he convince her this was something he wanted to give? "There's your answer. I'm not gonna leave you stuck in this awful place."
Ashley nodded. She gazed at him, eyes wide and deep, as if she found this—found him—as overwhelming as anything else she'd experienced in the past few days.
Her face clouded, and she bent double, ribs heaving in a deep, racking cough. Leon closed his hand on her slender arm—the parasite couldn't claim her, not if he held her fast.
The spasms eased. Ashley straightened and swept her hand over her skirt, but not before Leon saw the red spattering her palm.
He would've asked how she felt, but she was already speaking, whatever she had to say too dreadfully important for her to wait even to recover her breath.
"Just . . . please be careful." She pushed aside his hair, uncovering his eyes. "You're not just a living weapon. That's what these people want to make us into. But you're not. Not for them, and not for my dad." Ashley framed his face in her hands. "Not to me." She leaned close. Leon felt her breath dust his cheek, and then her lips pressed his brow.
He drew towards her, instinctively reaching for the comfort she gave. The gentleness of her words, her touch, soothed an ache that went deeper than any physical injury. Had anyone ever seen him the way she did? Since Raccoon City, he'd been defined by his survival, by whom he could fight and whom he could save. But to Ashley, he was something valuable and not just for what he could do for her.
Leon exhaled, his remaining tension easing as Ashley's fingers slid through his hair. He lifted his face to her in offering and supplication, and she met his lips with a soft, full kiss.
He knew they had both thought of doing this hours ago. Maybe back then it would have been inappropriate, unprofessional. Now it was simply the only way to say something that wouldn't fit into words.
Leon brushed a hand over her cheek, careful not to scratch her with his glove, then fitted his palm to the back of her head. Ashley nuzzled into him, and he took this as encouragement to continue: drawing her snug against his chest, he opened his lips and kissed her again. In answer, she made a happy sound and tightened her hold on his neck.
She felt perfect with her arms twined about him, and for a moment, Leon could imagine that holding her like this was all it took to save her. He knew that when she had reached out for a hug back in the village, Ashley had put her faith in him, trusting that the arms which held her so firmly could keep her safe. Leon had tried since then to guard that sense of safety, downplaying their danger and shrugging off any injuries he'd received. But Ashley had seen him bleed; they both knew he was hardly invulnerable.
When they were both breathless, Leon drew back, his head dropping easily to Ashley's shoulder. At his back, Ashley's hand tightened on the strap of his holster, as if its primary function was to keep him close to her.
"Ashley." He hugged her waist. "Right now, what you need is a weapon. You have to let me be that for you, even if it means I get hurt."
She sighed, her breast shifting beneath his cheek. "I know. I just can't bear it when—"
Leon straightened and looked directly in her eyes. He needed her to trust him in this, too. "I chose this. It's who I am." Even if his life had changed shape since a naive rookie cop had stumbled into the apocalypse, this much was as true now as it had been then: he wanted to protect people.
She regarded him, brow knit and eyes serious. "Okay, Leon," she said, the same soft determination in her voice as when she agreed to any of the other scary things he asked her to do.
He reached out, fingertips skimming her cheek as he tucked tangled blonde hair back from her face. Even rumpled by rain and dirt, she was gorgeous. Yet her warmth and kindness were more precious than any outward loveliness. "You're worth it," he told her. "You know that, right?"
Ashley's eyes glistened—dear God, could she have doubted this?—and then a tear fell. Leon caught it, the motion bringing his thumb briefly against the edge of her lips.
"Thanks," she whispered.
"Ashley, we're gonna get out of this together," he assured her. He had no intention of letting her down.
Her smile was a little forced, but he valued it all the same. "Right." She drew back, though her hands lingered a moment longer.
Leon's heart jumped at the red stain on her chest. But no, it was his blood, not hers. "Sorry about your sweater," he said.
"Pff." Ashley waved a dismissive hand. "We've established I can handle blood," she said in the assured tone that he knew she'd intended back when he'd first asked if she could stitch him up.
Leon glanced down at the wet patch on his own shirt. "I'm going to get cleaned up, so why don't you rest?" He gestured to the bed, hoping for her sake that the mattress wasn't as antique as the rest of this place.
"You know, when I was a kid I always wanted a canopy bed like this," Ashley said. Her voice was friendly and warm, inviting him to share a secret. "Never got one, though. I think Mom was afraid I'd break my head on the top." Almost slyly, she confessed, "I used to jump on the bed."
Leon laughed. He could easily see a smaller version of her bouncing with the same exuberance she'd shown scaling walls at his request. "If you jump, I won't tell."
"Maybe later," she returned, sounding amused even through the ache of exhaustion. Springs squeaked as she climbed on the bed—so it was a modern mattress, at least.
Leon removed his shoulder holster, laying it out on the dressing table with the rest of his gear, then peeled off his shirt and threw it under the running water in the sink. Next he rinsed his neck and chest and arms. The water remained cold, but he didn't care—it felt good against cuts and bruises.
As he reached for the disinfectant spray, he caught Ashley watching him—of course she was looking. So long as she wasn't counting his scrapes and feeling guilty, he didn't mind.
At last, feeling slightly more human again, Leon turned back to face her. Ashley met him with a look that, for a moment, he might have called reverence. But whatever she'd been thinking, it wasn't anything that required her to blush or turn away.
"I think we can stay here for a few hours," Leon said, hanging his shirt on a chair to dry. "You should lie down and sleep for a bit."
"What about you?"
"I'll take my turn next." He settled his back against the wall so he could stare down the door and anyone who should come through it.
"No, you should go first." Ashley hugged her knees to her chest and regarded him earnestly. "If you're going to protect me, you have to take care of yourself. I'm not the one who has to dodge scythes. Besides, I don't think I can sleep right now." There was the blush he'd expected before. So she was still thinking about that kiss.
Leon drew a breath, then swallowed his protest. It wasn't fair to ask that she accept his sacrifice without letting her make one of her own. He pushed away from the wall, a motion that took more effort than he liked, and came over to the bed. Old springs crunched in annoyance as he sat down. He drew the pistol at his thigh—magazine: full—reholstered it, set the alarm on his watch.
He looked up at Ashley. "If you hear anything at all, wake me up, okay?"
She nodded. "I will."
He stretched out on the bed. Thankfully the room was warm enough that he was comfortable without a blanket—if anyone did surprise them here, he would need to be on his feet in a moment. Beside him, Ashley shifted. Leon wondered if she was going to move away, embarrassed to be so close to him when he was half naked. Then he felt her knees brush his shoulder. So, not embarrassed but glad to be near him.
He smiled at her. "I like you, Baby Eagle," he said, finally answering the unspoken question that she'd been asking since he'd first praised her in that muddy yard back in the village.
She hummed, the same happy noise she'd made against his mouth when he had kissed her. "I like you, too, Leon."
He reached up and tapped her knee once before closing his eyes. Yeah, he knew she did.
Author's note:
I don't know if you spotted them, but I worked in some parallel moments/wording/imagery between the two versions of this scene. Leon's attempt to hold on to Ashley so the plaga can't claim her also echos what she's thinking when she removes his parasite in Absolution.
If you head over to my account on Archive of Our Own, you can see the two pieces of art I had created for this story, including a portrait of Leon as Ashley's vision of her patron saint. I post under the same username over there.