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"This is about as close as I can get," the pilot said.
"I can ladder down," Leon replied, already removing the headset and opening the side door. The desolate streets of Raccoon City's ruins waited below. His car remained where he'd left it on the road, dark and unassuming. If he hadn't set a tracker on it, they'd have a harder time finding it in the labyrinth of rubble. He secured the rolled up ladder to the edge of the open door and pushed it down with his boot. He gave the pilot a thanks and a thumbs up before he moved down the rungs. The wind kicked up around him from the spinning blades and made his body sway with it.
Feet firmly on the ground, he watched the helicopter take off, back to the remains of ARK. Leon slumped into the driver's seat as soon as he slid inside. His eye caught on the rear view mirror. Other than the usual dirt and bruises, he found no trace of the dark marks that had plagued him. He reached into his pouch and pulled out the vial of Elpis he'd taken with him. The golden substance caught what little light emanated from the car's dashboard.
He placed it back in its safe place and sped down the road. While they'd completed this mission, found the elusive antiviral, he had one more job to do. When he made it to civilization, at a stop light, he eyed his hand around the steering wheel. One more job. He pressed the touch screen to make the call. She answered quickly.
"Hello, handsome." Ada's voice wavered over the phone, so light as if she'd just woken up. Leon's grip tightened on the wheel. She'd been worse off than him before he'd left, having spent more time in the Umbrella labs in the past than he had. The traffic light lit the interior of the car in dim red. He willed it to turn faster.
"I'm on my way back," he said. "I have a present for you."
"Oh? I bet it got you into some trouble."
"No trouble at all." The light flipped to green, and Leon sped down the road. She gave a short soft laugh and sighed. The quiet crept into his bones and made him push into the gas pedal. He opened his mouth to ask if she was still there when she finally spoke again.
"Hey, Leon?" Ada said.
"Yeah?"
"Are you happy?" The question surprised him into silence. It startled him more that she sounded so breathless.
"Why do you ask?"
"I'm happy." Ada's words were slow and drowsy. Leon sped through a red light. "I've been thinking. It hasn't been easy, this job. But if I hadn't been what I am, I wouldn't have met you."
"Where is this coming from?"
"I wanted you to know. You shouldn't feel guilty about what happened to those people." The cough she let out sounded farther away from the phone before her voice returned. "Raccoon was doomed before you even got there. Those people never had a chance."
"Always the pessimist," he said. The sound of running water came over the phone. "What are you doing?"
"Getting water."
"Are you lying to me?" The GPS moved at a snail's pace.
"You never answered my question," she insisted. Leon had complicated feelings about that question. She knew or she wouldn't be asking. When he was younger, forced into this fight in order to keep Sherry from being a lab rat, he would've said he wasn't. Long nights of waking up in sweat from another vision of those dark and fire lit streets, of the lives he couldn't save, had him staring down the barrel of his own gun.
Later in life, he'd finally allowed himself to think of the ones he could save. Grace's smile replayed in his mind. She'd freed so many people tonight. She gave him hope that more will walk in his place. And then, there was Ada, always reminding him of his heart. Over and over they saved each other. Whether she made herself known in her deeds or not, he knew her presence, her care. There was a cold comfort in their shared experience, in their weariness of the world.
Leon eyed his hand again, the ring that dressed his finger. It was a token of their promise. It was a shield in the face of her capture. They'd weathered so much in thirty years. He thought of touching her, of her low voice that hummed in his ear, her smile when he said something she liked, and her quiet compassion. Was he happy?
"Leon?"
"Yes. I'm happy," he admitted. For so long, he felt he wasn't allowed to experience happiness. That he'd be disrespecting the ones who could no longer experience it. But what better way to honor them than by living? To find joy within the despair. To find love in the dark.
"Are you lying to me?" Ada asked.
"I answered your question."
"Promise me something." Her cough muffled before her voice, hoarse and weary, returned to the phone. "Promise me you'll remember that answer."
"Ada? Is something wrong?" He'd felt it since she'd picked up the phone. He was so close to the hotel now.
"Promise me, Leon."
"I promise." Leon could see the hotel now. He sped toward the parking lot. "I'm here. I'm coming up in a second. Hold on for me. I have the cure." When Ada didn't answer, Leon checked that the call remained connected. "Ada?" He hung up and haphazardly parked. He barely grabbed his gun before he sped up to the hotel. His heart beat like a drum in his throat as he took the stairs instead of the elevator.
Leon fumbled with the door key before he lurched into the room. The lights were off except for the bathroom light, shining into the room and spotlighting Ada's form at the edge of the bed. Her body slumped over it as if she'd barely made it there. Her arm lay outstretched, cradling her head. Her other hand splayed open next to her darkened phone screen.
"Ada?" He dropped everything. He started at the sound that left him when he noticed her open eyes. "Ada!" Leon scooped her up and lay her on the bed. His fingers pressed into her throat. No pulse. His body went numb, and a loud ring began in his ears.
"No, no." He took out the injector and slid the Elpis vial inside. Her arm appeared so small in his hand as he brought it closer to him and plunged the needle into her skin. "Come on, stay with me." The syndrome had spread far. It winded down her veins like spider webs. Her hands had already turned that sickly shade of gray. The creeping marks had spread over half her face. Dark fluid trickled down the corner of her mouth.
Leon cursed and leaned her head back to perform CPR. His mind zeroed in on the task at hand. As he pressed his clenched hands against her chest and closed his mouth around hers to give her air, he held onto the fact that she was warm. She's still warm. He'd just spoken to her.
"Ada, please." His voice cracked, and his body shook. Fear, like nothing he'd ever experienced, coursed through him. He gave her the antiviral. She's still warm.
As seconds turned to minutes, something inside Leon broke. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling. He checked her pulse again.
"Why?" His voice was a hoarse whisper as he cupped her face in his hands and slid her lids down with his thumbs. "Why did you make me promise that?" Leon gently kissed her forehead and slumped beside her next to the bed. He placed her hand on her stomach, her ring still on her finger, and held the other close to his face.
He said her name like a prayer and attempted to keep the feelings at bay. His body shook with the force of it, the grieving. There had always been an out, a counter, an antivirus. There had always been close calls and injuries. But death was permanent. It took and took. Once its hands held on, there was no fixing it.
I'm happy. She'd said to him. …if I hadn't been what I am, I wouldn't have met you. She wasn't warm anymore. Leon lay there, replaying the sound of her voice so he wouldn't forget it. He couldn't fight the way his fatigue consumed him, and he fell into the oblivion of sleep.
He woke to a rhythmic banging. "Leon! Leon, open this door!" The voice muffled behind the wooden door. He startled to his feet. A wave of nausea washed over him at the sight of Ada on the bed. He'd moved her hand in his panic, and it dangled off the edge.
"I know you're in there!" they called again. Leon moved to the door and wrenched it open. Sherry's big eyes filled with worry stared back at him. She dropped her closed fist to her side. "Where have you been? I got no update that you made it safe. You weren't picking up your phone." Her eyes roamed his face, falling at whatever she saw there. His hands gripped the doorknob.
"I'm sorry," he rasped.
"What's wrong?" she asked. His eyes were unfocused on the strange pattern of the carpet. His tongue felt too heavy to speak. "Can I come in?" She asked him the way he'd spoken to her as a child, soft with fear of startling her, attempting to avoid more anguish. Leon moved to the side so she could enter. He closed the door behind her and found her moving toward the bed.
"Did you give her the antiviral?" Sherry whispered, as if Ada were merely sleeping. The thought made his chest tight. He nodded. "Must have taken a toll on her to be so tired. I'm glad you made it in time."
Leon bit into his lower lip to keep it from shaking and cast his gaze down to her shoes. He shook his head as the world blurred in his eyes.
"Is she? Oh, God." Sherry's feet moved out of sight.
"Don't," Leon whispered.
"We have to call a doctor!" Sherry's alarm made his heart quicken.
"Sherry!" He yelled into the room. She stilled, her hands hovering just above Ada's shoulders. "Don't," he pleaded. Sherry's owlish expression shifted, softened into the look thought he'd given her when she'd spoken about her mother. "Don't."
"You tried, didn't you?" She lowered her hands to her side.
"She won't… I tried but…" He unclenched his fists and held his palms up to watch them shake. "I had just talked to her. We were on the phone."
"I'm so sorry, Leon," Sherry whispered. Something in her voice slipped past Leon's barriers. He sank down on his heels; knees pushed into his chest. His forehead pressed against his knees, and his arms wrapped around his torso. Only then did he allow himself to feel. He knew Sherry was there in the room, could feel her eyes on him, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered now.
Ada was gone. She'd slipped through his fingers. Leon vaguely heard the sounds of a wounded animal that overtook the room. Sherry's hands pressed against his shoulders. She covered him with warmth.
When the noises died down, and his legs cramped from the position, he unfurled. Sherry leaned back, eyes red and cheeks wet.
"May I?" she asked. He wasn't sure what she meant but he nodded anyway. His knees protested as they stood. Sherry held his arms as if he'd topple, then turned her back to him and moved toward Ada. She tilted her head, brows drawn together.
"Has her marks lessened since the last time you saw her?" Sherry leaned forward to pick up her fallen hand and move it to the other on her stomach. She hesitated there. Now that she mentioned it, Ada's marks had receded. Light bruising remained where darker marks had been. "Leon," Sherry said. He moved beside her to see what she was seeing.
"It's weak, but there's a pulse." She stepped back and pulled out her phone. Leon stared at Ada's hand, afraid to get his hopes up. He steadily took it into his and marveled again at how well they fit.
"Yes, I need them here now. We have a survivor," Sherry said on the phone. He barely made out what she said as he slid his fingers to Ada's pulse point. "Elpis was administered. Please, hurry!" she continued. There it was. The faint sign of life. Leon held his breath as he watched Ada's chest. It was slow and shallow, but she breathed.
"Leon!" Sherry called. She stood in the doorway, bringing light into the room from the hall.
"She's breathing," he said.
"I'm going to meet the doctors downstairs and bring them up." She closed the door and left him alone. He kneeled beside Ada. She was warm. Leon wasn't sure if she'd ever wake again, but she was alive.
"Hey, Ada. If you're in there, tell me again," he said, lips pressed against her palm. "Tell me you're just resting your eyes."