DISCLAIMER! I don't own Ada or Leon or Resident Evil.... or anything for that matter.

Hope you enjoy anyways.

Promises

Chapter 1
A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts.

You walk into the bar, and you know that people are watching you. You've become oblivious to these stares after so many previous occurrences, and ignore them, as you walk up to the counter to order. You place yourself lightly into the bar stool at the end, crossing your legs out of habit. The barman comes up to you and watches you with a slight hunger in his eyes.

"Martini." Your voice is calm and silky, even if the repetitiveness of the word is gnawing at your nerves.

He turns around and begins making your drink. You marvel at how fast and skilled his hands are at doing this. He must have had years of practice. He turns and places the drink into your waiting hands.

"Thank you." You purr as you lift the drink up to your lips.

He walks further along the bar, to the other waiting patrons, but you know he's watching you out of the corner of his eye.

You take a sip of the drink, the cool liquid spilling past your lips, and down your throat, burning as it makes its way down. You quite like the way it tickles your insides, one of those few rare feelings, but by now, you have gotten used to it and that feeling just isn't the same. You take another sip and let your eyes wander for a second. You take a look at the barman who is consumed in his work. You bring your eyes back to the table in front, scanning its surface. You then look at the half full martini, watching the liquid swirl in its glass cage. You take another sip, but decide to finish.

You look at the barman, who is already making his way over. You push the glass to his side of the table and he understands. He turns and swiftly makes another. This time, he places it in front of you and you eagerly pull it into your waiting hands. You hold onto it like it's the only thing holding you down and keeping you alive. He watches you for a few seconds, then returns back to the other end of the bar. This had become a regular thing.

After Spain two months ago, you had begun coming to bars and order drinks. Its not really began to, its more like returned to. The same thing happened to you six years ago after the Raccoon City incident. They both had one thing in common, and that similarity was the cause. Leon. You hadn't expected to see him in Spain, just an unlucky coincidence. For six years, you had kept him as a memory, an objective that you could never reach, just to keep you going. Seeing him, though, that had set you off. During the six years you were presumed dead, you had grown harder. You had to because no great assassin had a soft side. You recall the look in Leon's eyes when you smirked down at him from the safe perch in the helicopter. You shudder slightly as you remember the accusation, betrayal, longing and sadness hinted in eyes that he hid so well.

You came to these establishments to lose yourself, your train of thought. It was like a sort of medication for the pain, that only dulled it slightly, not really fixing anything. You had stopped talking overly much, so people would stay away from you, and you hopefully wouldn't crack. You had to keep choosing a new place each time, and this way people couldn't follow so easily.

This time you had picked something against your usual choice of bar, picking something that was sure to get more crowded. This bar happens to be more towards the centre of town, instead of the less busy spots that you prefer. Why you decided to come here is beyond you. Maybe you needed a change or it might have been premonition of some sort.

As you finish off the last of you second martini, you vision swims slightly and you crave something stronger. As the barman makes his appearance once more, you ask for an irregular choice.

"Vodka."

He turns and grabs the glass and bottle, but you stop him with words. "Just give me the rest of it."

He faces you, with a questioning look. "Are you sure you want all of it?"

His voice is Australian, so you tune into is automatically. You smile slyly and he understands. He puts the bottle down on the counter and eyes you warily, before walking off once more.

The bottle is one and a half litres but a little bit more then a third is missing. You pick up the bottle and pour yourself a glass. You bring it up into your waiting lips, the potent alcohols smell burning your nose. You gingerly take a taste of the stinging liquid and frown in displeasure. You remember why you hated vodka, if only for the foreign taste. You prefer wine but not in a bar, for it doesn't have the same rush.

As you finish that cup and pour a second, you vision swims just a little bit more. You love watching the world blur, as if the laws of physics themselves are breaking, instead of the alcohol twisting your vision.

As you drink the second glass, time beings to make itself scarce and melt away. Not that time mattered in the first place.

You finish pouring a third and you hear the door open. It sounds like one person entering, but you can't trust yourself in this condition. You can hear that the footsteps are slightly heavier, so it must be male, and they stop just a few feet in. You know he's probably scanning the bar and will probably come and sit in the empty seat beside you. You can feel his gaze on your back, as he is most likely thinking he is going to get lucky with the likes of you. Yeah right .You scowl to yourself as you sip the third glass, ignoring the bite. You can hear his footsteps begin to approach you and you pretend not to notice. He stops behind you, slightly to the left, where the vacant seat is.

"Ada?"

You instantly freeze up between taking a drink of the vodka. You know that voice; you know it only to well. You silently hope that you are wrong, but in the back of your mind, that you are right.

You slowly turn your head and upper body to face him, drink still in hand. Even in this drunken state you had been correct.

"Leon." You voice is slightly slurred.

"Ada, what are you doing here?" His voice is full of disapproval.

You blink at him savoring the sight of two of him. "Celebrating. Cant you tell?" The sarcasm is still in your voice.

He sits in the barstool and continues watching you with a look that parents give their children when they are caught doing something they shouldn't be doing. You have some more of the drink, feeling it soak your tight throat.

"Care to join me?" You ask picking up the almost empty bottle beside you.

There is hurt in his eyes that is covering up a look of sadness. It hurts to see him like this, and you never attended it to happen. You have to fight yourself not to flinch against it. "No thanks. I'm not one to drink vodka."

You shrug clumsily. "More for me."

You finish the cup and fill it with the remnants in the bottle. There's not enough for him anyway. You make no move to drink the sour liquid, only wrap your warm fingers around the cool smoothness of the glass.

You didn't notice the barman until he spoke. "Hey, Leon! You want the usual today, or is that even a question?" He chuckles to himself.

"Not today, Christopher." Leon says nonchalantly.

"That's not like you Leon." He eyes you quickly. "But I'll leave you alone."

He takes your empty bottle and walks off. You slowly realize that it's not only you who has been suffering after Spain, and probably much longer. It makes you feel slightly ill that you both are suffering for each other when you should be suffering together or not at all. It's my fault. I shouldn't have let Leon get the best of me, but somehow he did and I couldn't stop it. His voice snaps you back to reality.

"You shouldn't be doing this, you know." His voice sounds heavy and tired.

You mouth is faster then your mind at this moment. "Who are you to worry about my welfare? I've lived this long haven't I?" Define live.

You are trying to defend yourself against nothing, if only your independency. You can't bring yourself to look into his eyes no so you look at the glass that's half full. Right now it looks more like half empty. You hear him sigh slightly and you know that he isn't up for fighting you. You notice that he doesn't ask you why you are here and that is probably due to that answer already being known.

You release the glass that you were unconsciously squeezing. "I'll see you around, Leon."

You stand and take a step, and realize how big of a mistake that was when your head pounds and you trip. Before you can hit the floor, you feel a strong figure holding you up. You can't think straight and it makes it hard to come up with a retort.

"How do you plan to get anywhere in this state?" His voice is as soft as a child's blanket, and it almost makes you forget the anger you must show him.

He has to stay away from you because you are dangerous. You hurt him and there are others that will hurt him worse.

"Drive, how else?" You're serious.

You had perfected the art for training and all the years of practice had defiantly helped. You realize how reckless that must sound to him, even if it's normal for you.

He sighs heavily. "I don't care what you think of me, but I'm not letting you drive in this condition."

You look up at him and you can see that he is serious, and can understand your pain and uneasiness. His arm is wrapped tightly around your waist and you know he's serious.

"Fine." You sound slightly disgusted at the fact that he won't leave you alone, even after all you have done to him.

You walk towards the door and he's still holding you up, protectively.

"I think I can stand on my own, thank you." You persuade him with words to release you.

He comprehends how you feel about help from others and releases you slowly, making sure you can stand on your own. You can, thanks to practice and walk out of the bar. You feel him following you, but you keep walking to where you parked the car.

"My car happens to be in the other direction." He says to you as if you thought you knew where you were going.

"I still have to check on my car; make sure its safe for the night." Your car is one of your most prized possessions, thanks to all the things it has gotten you through.

He goes with you, walking beside you and keeping perfect pace. Your vision is blurred but that had become almost normal. As you walk down the dark street in silence, your heels clicking in sync, you wonder how Leon had been. You quickly push it to the back of your mind, because it's the last thing you should be thinking about. You can feel that Leon is wary of you; one reason would be how well you are walking intoxicated. You have nothing to be proud of. It's a bad habit that turned into a lifestyle. The street you are on is beginning to get busier and that was the reason you didn't park on it.

You make an abrupt right turn and head into the dark alley. Leon stays by your side but you can feel his uneasiness. Skulking around in dark alleyways at night just isn't this thing, but its becoming yours. You had to park further away so nobody would make assumptions about the car and link it to you. You hate all the secretive business but it's that or people will be after you for one reason or the next.

Because your senses are so fuzzy, you didn't hear the group of people waiting for you around the next corner. As you exit the alleyway and enter the next, Leon gets taken down by two men. Thank to the alcohol, you're much slower then you would like to be. You turn to help Leon from his attackers, but three more have circled you. You let out a frustrated growl, as you can't get to Leon.

Even in the dark, you can see the first guy smirk and come at you. Although you are in this state, you are still much more experienced then this mugger. You take him down fast and effortlessly, leaving him in an unconscious pile at your feet. You turn to the other two stepping over their unconscious friend. They are both looking a little more cautious at what you pulled off. They try another technique, by splitting up and attacking from different sides.

You charge towards the one on the right. He doesn't expect it, so you have the upper hand. You punch him in the gut, hard, and as he doubles over in pain, you knee him in the face, feeling the hard cartilage of his nose crumble with the strength of the hit. You move to the side, push him so has off balance and roundhouse kick him in the head. He hits the cement unconscious and bleeding. And another one bites the dust.

You whip your head to the last guy, who got to witness what you are truly capable of. You run at him and kick him full force in the chest. You hear the solid thud of his head hitting the cement, and are pretty sure he's out.

You turn to help Leon, who was managing quite well on his own. You watch Leon finish off the second guy with an elbow to the side of the head and a forceful kick backwards.

He turns to you and his eyes widen instantly. "Ada! Behind you!"

You whirl around and find yourself face to face with the third guy you thought was unconscious. You have no time to react as you feel your stomach go unnaturally warm with pain. Your hands shoot to your abs and you stumble backwards away from him, towards Leon. You lift your hands away to find them coated in a thick layer of oily blood. The adrenaline from the fight wears off and leaves you with a burning pain.

Leon charges past you and flings himself onto the unexpecting victim. He knocks the guy unconscious with a punch to the head and a roundhouse kick to the wall.

You fall to your knees as Leon comes to your side, kneeling. You grimace at how fast you're losing blood, as exhaustion sweeps over your body. Your eyes are shut and your head is almost slack on your shoulders as you fight to stay awake.

"I'm sorry." You whisper, letting the looming darkness consume you.

This is my first story so don't rant too hard on me. Constructive criticism is always welcome though. The next chapter will be up asap. All I have to do it write it up on this extremely slow computer, which may be fairly hard since its getting "fixed" tomorrow. When something is this broken, GIVE UP! Write a review. I need to know.... anything. Until next time, xNAx