Part One
"All our lives we search for someone who makes us complete. We choose partners and change partners. We dance the song of heartbreak and hope all the while, wondering if somewhere, somehow there is someone searching for us" -Anonymous
She was a whirl of cherry red silk spinning backwards into the air and landing with panther-like grace on the metal catwalk below- one leg bent beneath her, the other extended out to her side and her fingers spread on the floor. That manoeuvre was now her reflex. She'd practiced it for years until the feel of her muscles, coiled like springs, became a visceral pleasure. One simple rule- when your opponent expands, you contract. Through the soft ebony curtain of her hair, Ada Wong watched with fascination as her opponent howled and tumbled to the deck; a pile of purple robes. She had narrowly missed the slashing tentacle he'd swung at her, since her reaction time had been a little sluggish and she now sported a throbbing bruise on her upper arm as a souvenir of her carelessness. Sweat gleaned across her top lip and she stood slowly whilst absently brushing away the moisture with her index finger.
It was easier than she'd imagined it would be. Perhaps Saddler was too used to letting his grunts do his dirty work. Raising her handgun parallel to her face she inspected what was left of their encounter. Saddler's eyes had a milky hue and were rolled back gently into his skull. A thick yellow slime seeped from the ribbons of wounds that her knife had tattooed onto his face and neck- the only parts of him visible under his ornate costume. His mouth hung open as if emitting a silent scream and that glowing, pulsating third eye of his was shrivelled like an old balloon. How different he looked without that perpetual grin.
Ada gave a soft smile as she swept her gaze over the carnage around her and rolled her slim shoulders to press out the aches and strains. The flames from the explosive barrels she'd ignited to block Saddler's path were almost out but sparks still licked at the walls around her, painting them with a mixture of golden embers and dancing shadows. The stasis chamber in the centre of the room was now a barren, twisted lump of metal peppered with frosted shards of glass. Countless steel platforms spiralled above her and were the source of low, fractured shrieks, as if they were creaking under an imaginary weight. Ada watched the platforms intently, her heart flapping against her ribcage like a struggling bird. What did she expect now? Krauser alive once again? A snarling Ganado? A chanting priest?
Come on. I'm ready for whatever you throw at me.
She waited patiently for the shadows of a dozen enemies to descend and swamp her into another desperate fight for survival and for duty. But within seconds those sounds began to wither and fade. The echoes at the end of a battle. She was familiar with them. They were the ghosts of gunshots, footsteps, fists and growls that haunted the air as your heart and mind struggled to accept that the fight was really over. And suddenly the sounds were gone completely and the room lay still, empty and dead. Now all she could hear were her own footsteps snapping against the walkway as she circled Saddler's fallen form, her gun trained on him. Satisfied that he was no longer a threat Ada holstered her weapon and turned to take her prize. There it was. Glinting cheekily at the woman in red- a glass vial filled with a microscopic monster.
Ada's life as a spy had never required long-term planning beyond the next mission or the next paycheque. But that had been enough for her back then. The enthusiasm she had felt for the job had been like a tidal wave carrying her from one task to the next and demolishing everything else in its path. But that eagerness, that irrepressible simplicity of living, had been lost in a river of blood six years ago in Raccoon City whilst she had been on the trail of yet another glass vial. Since then the silence between gunshots had become lengthy and deafening, and the bright light at the end of every mission was becoming smaller and smaller as if recoiling from her outstretched fingertips. Ada had found several ways to numb the feeling of isolation but it had always returned, when the bottle was empty, like a persistent admirer lavishing upon her the gift of longing and emotion that she had always considered herself exempt from. But perhaps deep down her heart had simply saved up all that raw emotion to let it burst forth at the most impossible moments- a punishment in return for neglect. So now Ada felt that aching emptiness, heavy but hollow, stretching far beyond her ultimate objective- the objective she had been working on for the past half a dozen years- to gain The Organisation's trust. It was a means to an end; but to what end she didn't know or perhaps she was afraid to ask.
As if this battle of light and darkness even has an end- this may not even be something I have to worry about.
That purple vial however was the key to opening the next door that would lead to the next obstacle. After this she had something else- or rather someone else- to take care of and then she could go to wherever 'home' was this month and begin the cycle all over again, this time working for a new boss.
Perhaps I can have something a little different this time. A sunny desert island, sipping mai tais on the beach, the sand between my toes? A girl can dream can't she?
Swivelling her hips, Ada walked towards the Las Plagas sample and bent to scoop it up into her hands.
'Thank you,' she breathed, 'This is going to be hard to explain at customs.'
She had only a split second to wonder whether it was the sudden chill of the air or some kind of instinct that had alerted her to movement and made the hairs on the back of her neck stiffen. But her intuition was quickly answered by the throaty chuckle of her adversary. Spinning around Ada gasped in revulsion as she saw Saddler's blood red tentacle slicing the air towards her. Instinctively, her hand snatched her gun out of its holster. Before she could dive from its path the tentacle seized her, wrapped around her waist and arms wrenching her upwards sharply until her feet were suspended several metres above the floor. She felt it pressing and squeezing on her as if testing its own strength or teasing her with possibilities. It shook her violently causing her handgun to slide out of her blood-drenched hand and onto the floor. Ada could barely breathe as the congealed and ancient stench of blood- the remains of Saddler's countless victims- filled the back of her nostrils and flooded the base of her brain like a poison. Feeling her chest compress under the pressure, Ada frantically struggled to reach her leg holster for her knife, her grapple gun- anything! Before her fingers could reach her weapons, Saddler brutally tossed her like a rag doll towards the opposite wall. Ada bit back a scream as the back of her skull smacked violently against a pile of wooden struts and she tumbled to the ground. Her limbs were like dead weights shuddering helplessly and anchoring her to the floor. Throbbing painfully, her head lolled on her neck as she struggled to breathe and to fight the unseen force that was tugging at her eyelids.
Get up Ada! Please. You can't let him get the sample; it's your last chance.
Ada attempted to lift her head but the pain was unbearable and sent her vision spinning. Refusing to give up she tried a second time but the result was the same. In the distance all she could make out were silhouettes and colours waltzing slowly towards her- brown, orange, red and purple- shapeless and shifting masses. But in seconds the boundaries of her vision began to shrink and the colours began to split and bleed together till she could no longer bear to watch.
'Take her to the roof and wait for me there,' Saddler's snarling voice was the last thing she heard as she lost the battle with her own body and felt oblivion consume her.
They say that, in the minutes before you wake up, your senses are sometimes heightened and you become more aware of your surroundings than ever before. In short-when you wake up, you really wake up. Ada had never believed in this before; she saved her faith for two cups of coffee in the morning. But now was different, as one by one her senses caressed her awake. At first she could feel a soft cocoon circling her bare skin, then she could smell pollen and fresh air from a breeze, next she could hear the muffled sound of soft footsteps padding quickly in the distance and she could faintly taste something bitter in the back of her throat. At last she opened her eyes so she could see.
Where the hell am I?
Ada bolted upright and was instantly sent into a dizzy spell. She pressed her fists to her temple and grimaced. The sunlight gleaming in through a nearby window left pounding explosions of light dotting her vision. Squinting through the gaps between her fingers she could see that she was on a king-sized bed under a thick, warm, blue quilt. The room was fairly large and held a mahogany dresser and vanity in the corner that was covered in various bottles. Light poured through the slits between the blinds covering the large bay window to her right and illuminated the soft, tiny particles of dust that hovered above her. The window must have been partway open as she could feel a soft draught against her bare shoulders. To her left was a tall wardrobe, also mahogany, and a print of Van Gogh's Irises hung beside it. She was in a bedroom and it sure as hell wasn't hers. So why was she in her underwear and snoozing on a pillow? Swinging her legs to the floor, Ada reached out and grabbed a white towelling robe from the small chair next to the bed and thrust her arms into its sleeves. Whoever had brought her here and undressed her was going to regret it.
But first she had to think logically. What's the last thing she remembered? Spain, Saddler, and Las Plagas…She had been attacked and probably fell unconscious as a result of her overconfidence. Was she still there? She doubted it. Somehow expressionist paintings and soft blue rugs didn't seem like Saddler's style. If not there, then where? Ada marched to the window and gently pushed the blinds aside. Beyond the window she saw several tall trees lining a narrow road that separated the building from what looked like a large lake encircled by hedges and gently rolling green hills in the distance. Timber decking fronted the building and led out to the road. The smell of pollen hung in the damp air and the sun was high casting a warm glow onto her face. It looked familiar. Like a memory she couldn't place. Perhaps she had been here before, or driven through it one day. Maybe it just reminded her of a filtered colour snapshot that she'd glanced at whilst reading a travel magazine in a busy airport lounge.
How quaint. Well I'm not on that island anymore that's for sure. Wherever I am, and whatever this place is, I can't stick around- I have to get back.
'Hey,'
Ada span around, and felt her back press against the window frame. Her first instinct had been to dive for the vase beside the bed and throw it towards to the direction of the sound, but in an instant she knew who it was. It was the voice that always stayed her hand.
'Leon?' she gasped and edged slowly away from the window, 'What is this?'
Leon smiled and stepped further into the room from the doorway he had been standing in, 'I know…it's 10:40 and you hate to spend all morning in bed. But when you got back last night you were asleep before your head hit the pillow. And I know you like to play tough, but I also know how much those trips to the East coast tire you out, so no arguing. Please just humour me here.'
Ada was barely able to pay attention as he rambled on. For one thing she had no idea what he was talking about and for another she was distracted by the large cup of coffee that he balanced in his right hand, which he gently deposited onto the chest of drawers beside the door. He was dressed in a pale blue T-shirt that accentuated his arms and shoulders, along with a pair of dark cargo pants. He was barefoot and his hair looked wet, not to mention shorter than she remembered. He looked good, tired but relaxed. That must mean they were definitely not still in Spain.
'I'm glad you're awake though…' he grinned and Ada felt her knees buckle just a little. It had been so long since he'd looked at her that way. Crossing the room in three large strides Leon slid his arms tightly around her waist and pressed his forehead against hers. He smelt like soap and shampoo rather than blood and sweat like the last time she'd been this close to him. Ada stiffened under his touch and was caught between her confusion and her rapidly increasing frustration. What puzzled her more than the actions themselves was the casual familiarity that radiated from his movements, taunting her and hypnotising her. From the leisurely drooping of his eyelids to the lazy circles his thumbs were drawing on either side of her waist that made her involuntarily wiggle her hips just that little bit closer to him- it was all delicious torture.
'I can't believe those bastards at Washington made you stay at that conference for five days instead of two. I missed you so much,' Leon leaned forward and pressed his mouth against hers in a soft and leisurely kiss, his teeth nipping gently at her bottom lip. He tasted like warm chocolate, deep and rich and sweet. Ada stifled a moan and took a fistful of his shirt pulling him closer and it wasn't until she heard him chuckle softly against her mouth that she pushed him away.
Ada, control yourself for crying out loud!
She pulled away from his embrace and shakily tightened the robe around her with as much dignity as she could muster, 'Where are we?'
'Home,' he replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world to say.
'This isn't a joke Leon. Where are we?'
Leon's boyish grin deepened, 'What? Ada, I don't understand.'
'You don't understand?' Ada shot him a sardonic glance, 'I'm asking you how I got here…where's Saddler and Ashley? How did you get me off that island?'
His smile faded, 'Ada, are you okay?'
He began to step towards her but stopped when he saw her glare at him. He slowly ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, 'Spain, Ashley, Saddler…honey that was eight years ago.'
Ada felt the blood rush from her face and pool into her heart dragging her downwards. She shook her head and slowly lowered herself to the foot of the bed. Eight years? That wasn't possible. It couldn't be possible. He was lying or this was a very poor excuse for a practical joke. She was about to reply when she turned slightly and caught sight of her reflection in the full-length mirror. Her hair- she hadn't previously noticed- but it was several inches longer than before and now its ends kissed her shoulders. She brushed her fingers against the silky strands and shot her gaze back to Leon. He gently approached the bed and knelt down beside her.
'Okay, you're really scaring me now,' he whispered as his deep blue eyes anxiously scanned her face. Ada frowned as she noticed that the scar from his fight with Krauser had healed leaving nothing but a faint silver gash on his cheek. She absently brushed the pads of her fingertips against it and Leon reached up to take both of her hands in his. It was then that she felt her heart plummet to collide violently with her stomach. Not because of his actions, but because of what she saw on their entwined fingers. Matching gold rings. She snatched her hand away as if he had burned her.
Oh my God.