The only audible sounds in the cramped bathroom were that of a dripping faucet and Ada Wong's deep breathing. As eyelids heavy with exhaustion slid over her grey eyes, plumes of steam rolled off the scorching tub water and hung suspended around her head like a halo. The phoenix is a bird reborn in flames. Perhaps now, reclining in the scalding bath like so was an affirmation of her own rebirth. At the hands of Wesker following the Racoon City incident to be more exact. Lying like this; her fair complexion lightly freckled with perspiration from the hot bath and full, dark eye-lashes gently resting against her delicate cheeks, she nearly resembled a meditating bodhisattva. Except despite her serene composure turbulent thoughts wracked her brain. What's more, given the nature of her profession and the duplicity it entailed, she already considered herself beyond hope of grace and mercy let alone the possibility of freely expending them on others.

Taking long soaks like this following a difficult mission was a ritual that dated back to the 'early days.' A term she coined to mark a period in her life shortly after the eve of her career as a spy. A time when she hadn't yet fully comprehended her lifestyle would cost what remained of her humanity. Of course life could have been much simpler. Once upon a time she had dreamed of becoming a prima ballerina. Ada momentarily scoffed at this reminiscence. Well, as she was now, at least what her current profession shared in common with her childhood aspirations was the element of performance. Innocence, compassion, love, etc; ideals a spy simply couldn't afford if they intended to rise to the top of their trade. Ideals that over the years she'd convinced herself were completely dead to the wretch that had become Ada Wong. Until she met him.

Despite the brief hours they spent together in her mind they represented an eternity. How else could a random encounter forge a partnership capable of nearly uprooting all she worked to accomplish over the years. With him, she felt on the brink of total loss of control. It was as if he had the power to pierce through the strong façade she encased herself in. But perhaps that's what made her love him. It was unusual for her to fall prey to the temptations presented by men. And inexperienced men at that. No, rather, she was always the temptress. But he simply presented an offer her heart couldn't refuse. Ada Wong wasn't ignorant of her effect on men. In fact she considered sex appeal a weapon and was dedicated to honing it to her advantage. But Leon was unlike any man she'd met before. How Cliché, she mused. But true. Although she'd sensed an interest, his motives seemed too pure. No, he didn't just view her as a potential rutting mate. Ada was reminded of those blue eyes that betrayed promises of devotion, love, and a burning desire to protect. And the set of warm supple lips that not too long ago had joined hers. Leon…

No. She suddenly felt uncharacteristically too shy to think or speak his name let alone conjure up his image. In truth she'd experienced two rebirths in Racoon City. And now it was as if the restoration of humanity inspired by the rookie cop was most vital to her existence. Awakened to a new and forbidden love, could she truly return to what she once was? After he'd revived in her feelings that should have been destined to remain latent? But Wesker had restored her life. Even if it was to be a life devoid of any meaning until… Until what? Would she ever see Leon again? And was it as if they could possibly have something that resembled a happy ending together? She doubted he even knew she was alive. She had no choice. For the sake of her own survival it was crucial she lock away memories of the time they shared in the recesses of her mind. And heart. Thus it was then settled. Though she was reborn, a vital part of her being momentarily rekindled by the love of a man was now, if not dead, forced to remain in stasis once more.

With that Ada Wong's almond-shaped eyes sprung open. Her lithe body rose out of the bath tub and soon found itself in the embrace of a terry cloth robe. She placed a damp hand on the knob of the bathroom door. She could faintly discern a recording of Saint-Saëns' Le Cygne playing in the adjacent bedroom. Ada turned around one last time. Observing the sudsy water funnel down the bathtub drain she hoped her troubled thoughts would likewise vanish. It would soon be time to assume a new role.