Overtime

Ashley Graham wasn't sure what the purpose of this fundraiser was.

She certainly got its supposed purpose – a fundraiser to help the victims of the A-virus attack on New York last year. As in, have the 1% buy stuff only they can afford, and have all the proceeds donated to charity. In theory, it was good. In practice, she couldn't help but wonder why people just didn't donate and get it over with. In the six hours that would be spent here in Central Park, that could be spent helping the needy directly. Those who were wounded, be it emotionally, physically, or both. Instead, those six hours would be spent making a show of how much we, the elite, care about the lowly peons, so please take these pearls as we toss them before you.

And it was working, damn it. After all, she was here, wasn't she? When she'd pulled out of the cab, she'd smiled, shook hands, posed for the cameras. As the head of Graham & Associates, she held a certain amount of pull in this city. But even if she hadn't taken that path in life, she knew she'd still be able to cruise through it quite easily. After all, being the daughter of a president had its advantages. The Grahams weren't exactly going to be the next group of Kennedys, but still, the name carried weight. Her presence carried weight. So after delivering an oversized cheque on behalf of the firm, after discussing everything at the dinner tables from the 2020 election to the latest bio-terrorist attack in Chile, she was finally at the wining part of the evening. The part where she walked around with wine in her hands, trying to look visible, but not so visible that she was approached too often.

Now, she was seated at one of the many white-covered circular tables. On her second glass of wine, and sipping away at it. Also looking at her watch and ticking down the hours to when it would be okay for her to leave without the tabloids making a scene about it the following day.

"Ashley."

And, suppressing the urge to groan, she saw Otis sit down opposite her. One of her partners at the firm.

"Otis," she said, forcing a smile as she drunk more of the wine. "Enjoying yourself."

"I-"

"Didn't think you were invited."

"I wasn't," he said. "I just needed to see you."

"And you couldn't call?"

"Your phone's off."

"Oh." She fingered the phone in her pocket, and remembered that yes, she had turned it off just before the cab pulled up to the park. She'd spent all day answering calls, she didn't want one of them bothering her here. Still, no rest for the wicked she supposed, as she watched Otis take something out of his briefcase.

"Otis…"

"Need you to go over the Xenophon case." He put the folder on the table before her. "The trial starts next Tuesday, Mr Cheltenham is having second thoughts about testifying, the-"

"I know about the case Otis," Ashley said. "I can't go a day in the office without being reminded about it."

"Then you know how much is riding on it."

"Yes. I also know it's Sunday tomorrow, and that we have staff who are meant to handle this sort of thing, and-"

"You really want to leave it to them?" Otis gave her a look.

Oh go to hell you bastard. She nevertheless took the folder and skimmed through it. That's what happens y'know. Give a little, always give a little, then give a lot.

She knew it was part of the job. But still, Sunday. She wanted at least one day off a week, when it wasn't uncommon for her to get home by midnight. Which, speaking of which…she looked at her watch. 10:07. By her reckoning, she'd have to wait until at least 11 before she could slip off.

"So…you'll do it," Otis asked.

She slammed the folder shut and handed it out to him, the folder hovering above the table. "I'll do it. Just drop this off at my appartment and I'll work on it tomorrow."

"But you're here."

"Yes, I'm here. I've also got to look fully committed to this, so I can't be seen carrying a folder around. So if you're going to have me work tomorrow, you're going to do this for me."

"Fine," Otis grunted after a moment, his face showing her that he most certainly was not fine about this. "Guess it's the least I can do."

"Yes, it is." Ashley drew out her cheque book and began writing a four figure sum. "Also, you can drop this off on the way out. Give it to the Sunlight Foundation."

"But the firm-"

"This isn't from the firm, it's from me," she said, before signing her name, tearing off the cheque, and handing it to her colleague. She handed it out to him. "Yes, believe it or not, I can do charity on Saturday as well as Sunday."

Otis gingerly took a cheque and muttered "evening, Miss Graham." He walked off.

"Could give something yourself," she called out. "Just saying."

If Otis did say anything, she didn't hear it. Sighing, she held up the glass of wine she had in front of her. It was red; not her favourite colour, but she preferred red to white. She couldn't remember its brand or bottling date, and right now, staring at it, she wasn't sure if it was half full or half empty either.

First world problems I guess. She took a sip and looked back at the glass. So, is it now a quarter full, or three quarters empty? She twirled the glass around in front of her, looking through its surface. Past the men in fancy suits, the women in fancy dresses, all the way to a table hosting wines, glasses, and glasses with some wine left in them. A glass that a man in a not so fancy suit put down, before picking up a bottle and walking away with it.

The hell? Ashley got to her feet. She walked through the crowd, making her way over to the man slinking off. He was wearing a black tracksuit, and she wondered if he might have been on the security detail. After all, on the one year anniversary of the A-virus attack, there was every reason for bio-terrorists to try and outdo Arias.

"Hey," she said, calling out to him. She passed the table and put her own glass on it, even as he kept walking himself.

"Hey!" She put a hand on his shoulder and he turned round to look at her. "You taking all that for yourself?"

He didn't say anything. He just looked at her. Stared at her.

"Well?" she snapped.

He kept silent, looking at her. Without any communication, all Ashley could do was look back at him. Brown eyes. A scar across his right cheek that looked like he'd been in a knife fight. Stubble under his nose and across his jaw – not enough for a beard, too much to be called anything other than unkempt. And yet, there was something familiar about him. Like, she'd seen him before. It would have had to be ages ago, but when she thought of his face, plus what he was wearing, plus his occupation, well, it sounded crazy, but she found herself reminded of…

"Leon?" she whispered.

There was something in his eyes. Maybe recognition, maybe not.

"Leon Kennedy?" she asked.

"Um…do I know you?"

"It's…it's Ashley." She put her hands over her mouth – she was 31 years old, but right now, she didn't feel any older than 18. "Remember me?"

"Um…"

"Spain? Los Illuminados? Like, you were there, and I was there, and a whole bunch of crazy cultists were there, and-"

"Listen, ma'am, I go a lot of places, so, maybe you saw me, maybe not, but…" He took a sip from the bottle. "Anyway, have a good evening."

Ashley lowered her hands, rooted as she was to the spot. She watched as the man walked away, heading off into the night. Given how he walked, it was clear that he wasn't all there.

"Are you drunk?" Ashley called out.

The man kept staggering off.

"Oh, sure, just, go on, get pissed in the bushes. Not like you're being paid or anything."

He gave her a little wave.

"Fine! Whatever! Not like I…" She looked down at her dress, then looked at the grass beyond the gala. She really didn't want to get it dirty, but she really wanted to follow this guy. Mister "Looks Like Leon Kennedy But Isn't," because the guy who'd saved her thirteen years ago certainly wouldn't be walking off into the night with a bottle in his hands. Though it would make sense for Leon to be here – like, he'd dealt with bio-terrorism once before, being stationed here by state security in the event of a similar attack would make sense, but..

"Oh to hell with it." She hitched up her dress and began to walk to the grass.

"Excuse me, Miss Graham?"

She turned around and found herself looking into the smiling face of a woman. Magazine girl, gossip column, twenty-something years old, but not a day over twenty-four. Ashley knew the type.

"Marilyn Farage, The Weekly Stormer."

Oh Jesus Christ.

"I was wondering if you could give me a moment of your time?"

"I…" Ashley glanced out to the gloom. Tall, dark, and brooding was nearly out of her eyesight.

"Like, as the daughter of former President Graham, and the head of a prestigious law firm, I was wondering if you had anything to say to all other aspiring women out there who want to break through the glass ceiling?"

Aspire to a career other than yellow journalism? Ashley forced a smile. "Okay, as long as it's a moment."

"Great." Marilyn smiled and drew out a notepad. "Don't mind if I take notes do you?"

Ashley glanced back into the darkness, looking for the man she'd seen earlier. She couldn't see him.

It wasn't Leon you know, she told herself.

"Miss Graham?"

Like, what, he just happens to be here at the same time you are?

"Miss Graham, are you alright?"

Ashley turned back to face the girl and forced a smile. "Yes. Shall we start?"

The "moment" with Marilyn amounted to about fifteen minutes. After that, she'd dawdled until 11:45 before she'd called it a night. She'd assured the people around her that yes, she was fine, and that no, she didn't need a ride home (she had a cab for that), and that yes, she did use as much public transport as possible because if the paparazzi wanted to obsess over her because of her surname, least she could do was set a good example. So while that meant attending galas like this, it also meant cutting down on pollution.

Still, that meant walking over to Central Park West, and that meant she had to hitch her dress up. Because God damn it, it was a nice dress that she'd had made a month ago, and she didn't want to ruin it yet. So when she stopped on the path, turned to the left, and saw a man leaning against a tree with a bottle in his hand, she paused longer than she usually would. Because that meant walking over the grass and dirt. So, after three seconds and a glance towards the street street, she walked over the grass towards the man. Because she could tell it was the same one she'd seen earlier, and she just couldn't get it out of her head that somehow, it might be Leon. So however unlikely it was, she walked over. Close as she was, she could see that the bottle was nearly empty, and looking at his face, she could tell that-

Oh my god.

It was Leon. It had to be. A Leon thirteen years older than the one she saw in Spain, but it was him. But even so, the hesitation in identifying him back at the gala, she could tell that was well justified. Because he'd aged, and aged terribly.

"Um, excuse me?" she asked.

He looked up at her, staring at the girl in the white dress and diamond earrings through bloodshot eyes.

"You alright?" she asked.

She wanted to ask a lot more, but that seemed like the best way to start.

"Um, listen, we kind of talked back at the gala, and you didn't recognise me, and maybe I'm insane, but I'm very sure you're-"

"Ashley?" he whispered.

Oh right, now you see me?! She forced a smile. "Um, yeah."

Leon got to his feet, and the bottle dropped out of his hand.

"Listen, Leon, I really didn't want to begin a reunion like this, but you're drunk, and I'm kind of left to ask why you're just hanging out here just short of midnight being drunk and…"

He began to cough.

"Oh no," Ashley said, hitching up her dress. "No way. You are not going to vomit on my-"

Leon fell forward and retched into the ground.

"Oh. Oh God." Ashley staggered back, her dress just fine. Which was more than she could say for the man in front of her puking his guts out.

"Um…er…" She grit her teeth, made peace with the dirt, and squatted down patting Leon's back. "There you go big guy, get it all out."

He stopped for a moment and looked at her, through bloodshot eyes. "What are you doing here?" he whispered.

"Um, like, here here? Here in this exact moment, or here at the gala? Or here in New York? I mean, each of those things has a different answer and-"

Leon threw up again, though was considerate enough to point his mouth towards the grass.

"Okay, okay," Ashley said, rubbing his back. "There you go, there you go."

What do I even do? She looked around – there weren't many people left, so she couldn't just foist him off to them. Maybe the security detail? She glanced back at the gala, but couldn't see them either. Just wait staff, and they had their hands full in every sense of the word.

"Um, Leon?" Ashley asked. "You got a place tonight?"

He didn't throw up this time, but he was breathing heavily.

"Like, friends?" She paused, before whispering, "family?"

"Go. Away."

"Yeah, um, much as I'd actually like to do that, I can't," she said, not sure if what she'd just said was a lie or not. "But…" She frowned, and put her hand to his forehead. "Oh boy. You're burning up."

Leon staggered up to his feet and began staggering off towards the road.

"Hey," Ashley called out to him. "Hey, wait!"

He either ignored her or didn't hear her. But when she walked in front of him, there was a faint glimmer in his eyes of recognition.

"Leon, wait," she said, and to her surprise, he actually did stop for a moment. "You're drunk, okay? And I don't know why you're drunk, or why you're here, or…no. No no no."

He was getting down on the ground and from the looks of it, was preparing to go to sleep.

"No, you can't do this."

"G'night," he murmured.

"Oh for the love of…" She let out a growl and pulled him up to his feet. "Here. Arm around my shoulders."

His arm looped a bit lower, but-

"Shoulders!" She got it where it needed to be. "Now come on."

"Where…where are…"

"Home," she said.

Leon murmured something that Ashley couldn't make out. But it didn't matter. He just vomited some more.

This time, it got on her dress.

When they'd pulled up at Greenwood Apartments, Ashley had given the cabbie a bigger tip than normal – neither of them had said as such, but he'd got the message. Take the money, and don't mention any of this. Given the smirk on his face, he'd got the message. What Ashley wasn't sure he'd got, was that this was for Leon's sake as much as hers. Leon, who'd been snoring in the cab until she'd managed to wake him up (the metre had still been running while she'd shaken him), and was now staggering forward, still with his hand over her shoulder.

"Unbelievable," Ashley murmured. "Absolutely unbelievable."

Leon grunted something.

"Yes, this is a walk in the park compared to Spain, but I'm still complaining."

He grunted something else.

"Yeah? Well, same to you." They managed to climb the stairs to the apartment entrance. With some powers of contortion, Ashley managed to retrieve a folder from her mailbox, but also open the damn door. This late at night, no-one was at the desk, which suited her just fine. What also suited her just fine was that the elevator was working. Even so, it was a long way up to the sixteenth floor, and as awkward as the wait was below, it was even worse heading up.

What are you doing?

Ashley still wasn't sure. There were places she could take a drunk other than her apartment. But if she did, it would almost certainly be logged, and whatever the circumstances of Leon's drunkenness, it almost certainly wouldn't look good in his file. So, as she managed to lead him out of the elevator, she told herself that this was just charity. That it meant nothing. That that moment when she'd suggested she come back to her place for "overtime" was an eighteen year old girl simply latching onto "big, strong, and handsome" as part of some psychological process the shrink had talked to her about days later. That this meant nothing at all.

"And here we are," she said, as she unlocked her apartment door. "Home sweet home."

Leon, slightly less drunk, grunted, and walked in.

"Yeah, like, don't wipe your feet or anything."

He kept staggering forward.

"The couch is…"

He staggered towards the door on the left.

"Actually, that's my…"

He began fiddling with the knob.

"Oh Jesus Christ…"

Ashley locked the apartment door, walked over, and opened the door to her bedroom. "See? Bedroom. Now if you can just keep awake, I can set up the -"

He walked in, headed for the bed.

"No. No way. Nuh-uh."

He collapsed onto it, his body orientated from one side to the other rather than back to front.

"Leon," Ashley began.

He didn't say anything.

"Leon!"

He remained silent.

"Leon, are you…okay, fine. You're asleep." Sighing, she managed to get his shoes off, and with a series of grunts, orientated him the right way. "Yeah, just, sleep in your clothes, on my bed, stinking up the place. Nothing unusual about that."

He let out a snore.

Ashley gritted her teeth. "God damn it," she murmured.

She spent the next fifteen minutes doing a variety of things – putting her earrings in a jewellery box, and hiding it under the chest of drawers. From that same chest of drawers, picking out a tracksuit and pyjama bottoms. After that, she had to tiptoe into the closet, find a pillow and blanket, then head out into the main room, put her dress into the washer, then get changed, then finally get on the couch with blanket and pillow in toe.

"Yep," she murmured, looking at her watch, and seeing the time as 12:54. "Nothing unusual about this at all."

She closed her eyes and brought the blanket over her. Adjusted her head on the pillow. Waited for the night's embrace to take her.

"What the hell are you even doing Ashley?" she whispered.

Sleep took her soon afterwards.

The nightmares came back that night.

When Ashley awoke, she rubbed her hand over her face and looked at the time again – 8:26. Usually she'd have been awake half an hour earlier than this and gone on a morning run. Still, not only did she have a man she hadn't seen in thirteen years in her bedroom, but she had the Xenophon case to work on.

I could just stay here, she thought. Just, do nothing. Go back to sleep. I mean, it's not as if hundreds of thousands of dollars aren't riding on the case, and it's not as if that guy isn't…

She groaned and threw the blankets off her, before springing up and rubbing her neck. She had to get up. Besides, if she went back to sleep, the nightmares would return. Frowning, she brought her hand to the left side of her neck, keeping it there for a moment. It was a habit she'd developed thirteen years ago, and even now, she'd never been able to shake it.

Alright. Day's young. You're getting older. Get to it.

Getting to it wasn't too bad as she put on the clothes washer for her dress (it was a waste of water, but damn it, she didn't want vomit on it any longer than necessary), made herself some toast, and put the radio on – tens of thousands confirmed dead in the Chile attack, believed to have been carried out by Red Umbrella. More speculation on who would be running in 2020. Same old conversations as last night, just coming from different mouths. By 8:45, she was sitting on the edge of the couch in front of the coffee table. Before her was the folder Otis had given her, plus her laptop, plus coffee, plus toast.

Right, she thought. She took a bite and opened the folder. Let's see what you've got for me.

She opened the folder with one hand and frowned.

I should check on him.

The folder said otherwise. The folder said "pay attention, because it's your job." The folder said-

Fine. She slammed her laptop closed and knocked on her bedroom door. "Leon? You up?"

There was no answer.

"Leon?"

The guy was probably still asleep. Quietly opening the door, Ashley peered through the opening – sure enough, he was sprawled out on her bed in the same position she'd left him. Breathing softly.

God help you if I have to clean up more vomit. She softly closed the door and returned to the couch. When he awoke, they could have words, and by then, she'd be able to figure out what was what. Like, what he was doing, and more importantly, what she was doing. Because there was a question as to how much this was down to charity, and how much it was down to something else, and she was afraid that she might not like what the answer would be.

The next hour passed quickly as she typed away. The coffee kept her awake, the toast gave her fuel, and music from the radio kept her in the zone, as she called it. The only breaks were every fifteen minutes, when she checked on Leon – still sleeping, still breathing, still taking up more of her attention than she wanted. It wasn't until 10:09 came round, as she leant back on the couch and stared at her brief, satisfied that she'd done at least half of the work that was required (which for her, was more like a quarter), that she heard the sound of her shower being turned on.

Oh yeah, sure. Just, take a shower why don't you. She took another sip of coffee before holding it in front of her, drumming her fingers around the rim. Like, don't ask me, don't ask how you got here. She took another sip before glancing back at her bedroom door, listening to the sound of the shower, and feeling the beat of her heart against her chest. Fine. You get your shower, then you have to face the music. She returned back to her laptop.

"Leon!"

Thirty minutes had passed since she'd made the decision to wait for him to finish the damn shower. Her watch said 10:40. Her bedside clock said 10:39. Didn't matter either way, as she continued to hammer against the bathroom door.

"Leon, are you alright?!"

Had he slipped? Had he knocked himself out? The bathroom door was locked, and she knew that there was no way she'd have the strength to break it down.

"Leon!"

The water stopped running and Ashley took a step back. She put her hands to her mouth, trying to steady her breathing. She tried to compose herself as the doorknob. And she most certainly tried not to stare as he stood in front of her, with a towel around his waist, his body dripping with water.

"You can shout really loud, you know that?" he asked.

Tried not to stare, but she failed. Not so much at his physique, but rather what covered it. Scars. All over his body.

"Ashley?"

She took a breath and looked up at him, forcing a smile. "So…you do remember me."

"Um, yeah," he said. "Listen, I just need to tidy up a bit, so if, like, if it's not any trouble…"

"Oh, no. No trouble at all." She shook her head vociferously. "Like, I can make coffee if you want."

"That would be nice."

"What-"

"Black, no sugar." He turned around before heading back into the bathroom.

Oh God.

His back was similarly covered in scars as well.

It was at least twenty minutes before Leon emerged from the bedroom. Having since made her way into the kitchen, Ashley had made some coffee and toast. Part of her resented it, that twelve hours after finding Leon Scott Kennedy in Central Park, the bastard was still in her apartment eating up her time. But that part was much smaller than the part that was preventing her from focusing on her work. Because she couldn't get the sight of it out of her head. The scars. The look in his eyes. The lack of the Leon she'd known back in Spain, who'd have never let that scene go without at least one wisecrack. So she found herself holding her breath as he walked in. He gave her a nod, but there was barely any acknowledgement in his eyes. They were still bloodshot, and there were still dark circles under them. He looked exhausted.

"Hey," he murmured.

He sounded exhausted as well, as he took a seat at the table. The breakfast table, or on rare occasions, the dinner table. Most of the time she ate out – her apartment was fine, but it wasn't really made for fancy dining.

"Hey," she said. She brought the toast and coffee over. "Listen, might be a bit cold, but-"

"It's fine," he murmured, and gave her a small smile. "Really."

He sounded genuine. She stood there like a mother hen, watching him take a small bite from the toast, and a small sip of coffee.

"Um…" Ashley ran her hands together, before sitting down at the table opposite him. "Is it-"

"Like I said, fine."

"Oh. Great. That's fine."

"Yep. Fine."

She sat there, watching him eat and drink, though technically he was doing very little of either. She drummed her fingers on the table, thinking of what to say, if anything.

She'd imagined it would be different. Leon would emerge, she'd get her frustrations off her chest, and then she'd see where things went. But seeing him now, like this, she couldn't.

"So…" she began.

Leon didn't look at her. He instead took out a phone and began typing something.

"Much as I like your company, I think I'm owed an explanation."

"Owed?" Leon murmured. He continued typing at the phone.

"Yes. Like, what you were doing at the gala-"

"Security detail."

"Right. Security detail." Ashley kept drumming the table. "And the others-"

"Separate detail."

"Separate?"

"Everyone there was serving the mayor except me. I was there on more official business."

"Just you?"

"I'm used to working alone. Less complications." He continued typing.

"And now?" Ashley asked.

"Now, I'm sending a text back to HQ explaining why I'm so late in contacting them, and that I'll still be catching a flight to Washington at twenty-thirty hours." He put the phone down and looked at her.

"What?" he asked.

"What what?" Ashley said dumbly.

"You want to say something."

"I…" That speech she'd had in mind earlier was coming back to her mind, but she managed to keep it at bay. "I'm assuming your report doesn't include you being drunk."

"No."

"Like, really drunk."

"No."

"Like, so drunk that I had to carry you back to-"

"You didn't have to do anything." He got to his feet. "Listen, thanks for the toast, but I think I'm going to lie down now." He got up and walked back to the bedroom. "If I've broken anything, I'll pay."

Ashley stared dumbly as he walked across the room, shambling around like he was in a daze. She'd say like the walking dead, but that analogy didn't hold – she'd seen footage of the walking dead, and Leon didn't look anything like them. But that said…

"Is that it?" she whispered.

Leon didn't give any sign he'd heard her. He just opened the door to the bedroom.

"Hey!" She yelled. She walked over and as he opened the door, she put her arm in the frame. He looked down at her with an expression of disinterest.

"Thirteen years," she whispered.

"What?"

"Thirteen years. We haven't seen each other for thirteen years, then you…you just show up one night, and all you have to say is…"

"Is…"

"For God's sake, say something!" she yelled.

"Like what?"

"Like, how have you been Ashley? What are you doing Ashley? Sorry for vomiting on you Ashley!"

"I vomited on you?"

"Yes, you did!"

"Oh. Sorry." He turned round. "I can sleep on the couch if you want."

"No, you can't do-"

He lay down.

"…that."

"Done it," he murmured. He adjusted his head. "I'll leave at six, then I'll be out of your hair."

"You…you're in my hair right now!"

"No, I'm in your apartment." He smiled – the first time she'd seen him do so all day. "Guess this is your overtime, so enjoy it."

"Over…overtime?!" She stared at him. "You're seriously bringing that up?"

He didn't say anything. He just lay there, eyes closed, breathing shallowly.

"Leon?" she asked.

He was already asleep.

"Oh you son of a…" She kicked the couch. "Fine. Whatever. I mean, I'll just get on with my job, because hey, least one of us has to."

His breathing became even lower.

"Bastard," she whispered. She sat back down at the desk and returned to her laptop. "You absolute bastard."

Angry as she'd been when Leon had crashed on her couch, her rage hadn't lasted that long. Taking a break from her work, she found time to make the bed, clean the bathroom, change into something more appropriate than a tracksuit, and hung her dress on the balcony line. Having done that, she also found time to check her jewellery box (the earrings were still there), make a salad, listen to a bit more of the radio, and finally complete the brief. Sitting there, giving it a third proofread, she looked at Leon again. He was still out. Still breathing shallowly.

What the hell happened to you? She wondered.

You know exactly what, her conscience whispered.

Frowning, she hit "save" in the Word document. She didn't know that. Like, not 100%. Still…

Still, she glanced at her watch again. 3:12. He'd only be here for around three more hours, then chances were she'd never see him again. Which was fine, she told herself. What had happened to them in Pueblo, that was the kind of thing he did for a living. She had every reason to remember it, there was no reason for him to remember her. Like, she might have hoped she'd have left some kind of impression, and not an entirely negative one and-

"No."

Huh? She looked at Leon.

"More than enough…don't move…"

He was twitching. Shaking from side to side.

"Leon?"

"Said don't move!"

He was having a nightmare.

"Get away!"

A bad one by the sound of it.

"Leon!" She rushed over and put her hands on his arms. "Wake up!"

"No…move…move…"

"Leon, come on."

His mouth was moving, but no words were coming out. He was murmuring something, but she couldn't read his lips.

"Leon, you have to wake up," she said as she continued to shake him. Seeing that was doing nothing, she moved her hands to his cheeks. "Leon, it's a dream. Just wake up."

"Stay…stay away…"

"Leon, you have to-"

"Stay away!"

He sprung up and brought his hand round in a hook. What he'd seen in his nightmare, Ashley didn't know. But it didn't matter – it hit he right cheek all the same, sending her sprawling, only just missing the coffee table. Leon shot up, and looked around, like a man who'd been resurrected, just escaped from the clutches of death.

"I…"

He barely spoke. He just looked around, as Ashley lay there. Clutching her cheek. Fighting to keep her breathing in order.

"Ashley?"

She just lay there, meeting his eyes. Less bloodshot, but far darker. Eyes that had something she'd never seen in his before – regret. Terror.

"Ashley, I-" He got to his feet, but stopped moving as she raised a hand – stop, it said. Don't come any closer.

"I…I'm sorry…" He slowly sat back down on the sofa. He put his hands in front of him, and Ashley could see they were shaking. "I…I didn't mean…I wouldn't…"

Ashley slowly got to her feet, still clutching her cheek. It was smarting like crazy, and continued to do so as she slowly walked over towards Leon. He was pressing his hands together and looking down.

"I wouldn't…"

In silence, she took a seat next to him. In silence, she watched as he looked up at her. Behind the darkness was his eyes. Within his eyes was the touch of nightmare.

"I'd never…"

She shifted herself over and put a hand over his shoulder. "It's okay…" she whispered. "It's okay…

"I was in Raccoon City."

It was 3:26 when he said that. Up to that point he'd just sat at the dinner table, cradling a glass of water in his hands. Ashley had drawn up a seat beside him and had just sat there in silence. She had her own glass, but she'd barely touched it.

"In your dreams?"

He nodded.

"Didn't know you were there," she murmured.

"Didn't I mention it in Spain?"

"No, you…you actually didn't say much about yourself," Ashley said. She scoffed. "I mean, there wasn't much time for that, and I probably did much of the talking, and-"

"Yeah, you kinda did." He smiled at her and took a sip of water.

"What about you though?" he asked. "Last year, during the attack…were you…"

"Out of town," she whispered. "That's…something I'm greatful for, to say the least. And more than enough of a reason to go to gala parties if it helps people in the process."

Leon remained silent.

"You can't keep doing this you know," Ashley said eventually.

"Doing what?"

"This," she said. "This…stuff. Whatever it is you do. Bio-terrorism, saving people like me."

Leon grunted and got to his feet. He headed towards the kitchen.

"Leon, I saw the scars, alright?" Ashley said. She got to her feet and followed him. "I heard you having that nightmare. I saw you."

"I've been having nightmares for nearly twenty years." He began pouring himself some more water. "Trust me, I'm used to it right now."

"Doesn't sound like you're used to it."

He didn't say anything. He just took a sip of water.

"Leon?"

The sip became a gulp.

"Leon, have you talked to anyone?"

"Course I have." He finished the rest of the water and then began pouring some more. "I get a psych eval every year. Twice a year if I'm lucky."

"I mean…talk talk."

He grunted and headed back to the couch.

"Isn't there anyone?"

"Most of the people I know have them as well," he said. He took a seat and laid back in it, rubbing his forehead as he closed his eyes.

"There has to be someone," Ashley murmured.

Leon opened his eyes, but they didn't linger on her. Instead, they looked around the apartment. Ashley, for her part, just stood there, looking down at him. She was nine years younger than he was, but right now, the difference felt more than twice that number. Her father, as he'd approached the end of his second term, had once said that some people aged faster than others. Seeing the grey weaving through his hair and the wrinkles spread under his eyes, she'd believed him.

"Not many photos around here," Leon murmured.

Ashley knew he was trying to change the subject, but the comment caught her so off-guard, all she could say was "what?"

"The photos," Leon said. He gestured to the scattering of framed pictures around the edge of the room. "There's your mum, your dad, and there's the lot of you at your graduation…"

Ashley blushed – she knew the photo. It was a little bit of self-promotion that she couldn't help but frame.

"But no-one else." He looked back at her.

"And?" Ashley asked.

"And?"

"And what?" she snapped. "What's it to you if I live alone?"

"Nothing, just…" He took a breath. "I think I can guess why. It's-"

"High maintenance," Ashley said quickly. "Daughter of the president attracts a lot of attention." She went over to the kitchen.

"That's not it though, is it?"

She began pouring some water.

"You still get nightmares as well, right?"

She returned with the water, holding it in her right hand.

"It's why you've been rubbing your neck on and off for the last ten minutes."

She'd been ready to splash him with that water, but with those words, she froze still. For indeed, her left hand was back at her neck. Still rubbing it.

"It's where they injected the plagas,"

There was a tightness forming in her chest, but she managed to keep her breathing steady and nod.

"You know it's gone, right?"

"Of course I know. But…" She sighed, and sat down on the couch, putting the glass on the table. "When you're back from a terrorist cult, when you wake up screaming, drenched in sweat, and can't tell anyone why…" She sighed. "Want to know why I'm alone? That's it."

"I know."

She looked at him. "You know?"

"I do. Which is why you should get why I'm still doing this, because there's nothing else for me after it."

"For how long though?" Ashley whispered.

"Likely until I'm dead. Which by my reckoning should have happened by now. I mean, at Arica…"

"Arica? As in, Chile, Arica?"

"…thought it might have happened, but…" He winced, putting a hand to his back. "Well, that's another scar to remember things by."

"Leon…"

"I don't need to talk Ashley. I just need…" He took a breath, and Ashley could see that he was steadying his breathing. "Just need to lie down a bit."

"Sure," she said, nodding. "Sure."

He went to lie down on the couch.

"No, bed's fine," she said. She opened her bedroom door. "Come on. Messed it up once, you can do it again."

He nodded at her as he shuffled in.

"I'll call a cab for you if you want. Still leave at six?"

"Yeah. That would be fine." He lay down on the bed, this time facing upwards.

"I'll er, just be outside." She went to close the door.

"Ashley." He looked at her.

"Yes?"

"If you hear me…wake me up."

She nodded, and the look in his eyes told her that he understood that she understood as well.

She closed the door and returned to the table. Still rubbing her neck.

She'd woken Leon up at ten to six. He didn't say as much, but she suspected that he'd managed to enter slumber's embrace without any nightmares. What that was going to do to his sleep patterns she couldn't say, but regardless, they'd headed down together, arriving on the street at 5:55. Now, at twelve past six, she supposed it was inevitable that Leon murmured "so, you did actually call it, right?"

"Yes."

"And at the right address."

"Yes Leon, believe it or not, I do know where I live."

"Fair enough." He smirked. "I mean, for all I know, you've waited fifteen years for this, and-"

She punched his arm. "I was eighteen then? Eighteen! I was freaked out, and it just came out, and-"

"Ashley…"

"And I know that was a really stupid thing to say, but I'm not that girl anymore, and-"

"No, you're not."

"Oh." She fell silent.

"Meant that as a compliment mostly. I mean…" He glanced back at the apartment, then back at her – same clothing she'd worn in the apartment, just now with a brown scarf to protect her from the chill. "Look, not my place to say, but…you've done good."

"Not as good as you."

He looked away.

"Leon, if you were in Raccoon City when it all went down…" She took a breath, remembering that she'd been twelve at the time and not fully aware of what a big deal the whole thing actually was. Back when her dad was just a senator, and who hadn't set his gaze on the White House yet. "I mean, you were there, and you've been fighting ever since, and-"

"Ashley…"

"And I can't help but think-"

"Don't," he said.

"Don't what?"

"Don't go there," he said. "Don't start thinking what you should do after surviving stuff like the things we have. Because I know where that path can lead, and it isn't pretty."

"But you chose."

"No, I didn't. After Raccoon City I was, well, guess you could call it conscripted. Little deal I made on behalf of a friend." She watched as she rubbed the space under his left shoulder, wincing as he did so. "Could say I've been paying off that debt ever since."

Ashley remained silent. But even if she had something to say, it would have come to nothing, because Leon said "that the cab?"

She turned around and saw the yellow New York taxi coming down the road. "Yep," she murmured. "Figure that's it."

"Oh. Great."

She looked back at him. "So…this is goodbye then."

"Guess it is."

"Um…" She bit her lip, and wrapped one of her legs around the other one. "I mean, if you're in New York again…"

"I'll ring."

"Okay…" She looked up at him and smiled, and saw him smile back. Enough to reassure her that despite the age, despite the scars, despite the stubble, Leon was still there. Somewhere. Burdened by time, burdened by wounds, but still, there. Everything that Los Illuminados had tried to remove from the human race.

The cab pulled up. Leon gave her a wave and walked towards it.

"Leon."

He looked back at her.

"I…don't think I ever said thank you. Y'know, fifteen years ago. Like, the whole, saving my life thing, putting up with me thing, losing your friends thing…"

"Dunno if I'd call them friends, but-"

"People died, and…" She trailed off, biting her lip before hugging him.

"Ashley?"

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you."

She wanted to say more. To say thank you for giving her a chance to live a normal life. A thank you for doing all the things that he's done while she's continued to live it. To say thank you, believe it or not, for turning up drunk last night because if not, this Sunday would have been little different from any other. But as she drew back, as their eyes briefly met…she thought…hoped…that he got the message.

"See you round," he said, before getting in the cab. He gave her a little wave, before it sped off.

"Yeah," Ashley whispered, watching as the taxi disappeared from her sight. "See you around."