drabblewriter

allbingo

October 1st, 2004. When the sun goes down, Leon lights a white candle and flicks out every other light in his apartment. He sits on the couch, hands folded, and gazes into the flame as he has every anniversary since he survived Raccoon City six years ago.

It never gets easier, and this day is always the hardest. He still sees everyone lost behind his eyes when they fall closed. Edward and Marvin. Kendo and Emma. Ben. William and Annette Birkin. Almost all of the RPD. And so, so, so many innocent civilians.

Leon's breath shakes out of him as he bows his head, clasped hands raising to press to his forehead. He prays for those victims, even now, and even more so for their families, their loved ones, for the people like him who were irrevocably changed by all of it.

He hadn't been sure he would ever pray again after that night. He'd wondered for a long time how the loving God he had grown up knowing, had always believed in, would let something like that happen. In the end...Leon hadn't known how to go on without Him. There had to be a reason, a plan. It was all too much to think about otherwise. He'd tried to find acceptance in not knowing, in not understanding, in being only one unimportant man.

He'd managed to be thankful for his survival, for his place in STRATCOM, where he can help, where he can save people. He hates it a lot of the time, hurts a lot of the time, but he knows it's an opportunity, a blessing.

And that's hard. He doesn't want to be ungrateful. He wants to be worthy. But times like this, remembering all those who died, all those he couldn't save, how precious little the world has changed, how much things have gotten worse...

I don't understand, Leon prays. He hands shake slightly. I don't know why You spared me. I don't know what You want from me. I don't know if this is worth it. He takes a tremulous breath. I'm thankful. I want to be thankful. I want to follow Your plan for me.

He'd gotten back from Spain only a week ago, mission accomplished but new scars on his body and heart. He feels chills when he thinks of Saddler's cult, the way they'd perverted everything Leon believes. How easy it might have been to give in if he'd let himself.

You saved me again. You've protected me over and over. I don't understand why. I don't feel like I'm worthy. Just- His breath hitches again, and he scrubs away a rebellious tear. I wish I could know. I wish You would show me that I'm doing that right thing. I wish You would give me a sign.

He pauses, silent for a long moment, as if the voice of God will speak to him from the candle itself, like Moses and the burning bush, and an instant later he feels so foolish, so small, so arrogant. I'm sorry, he prays desperately. I have no right to make demands of You. I'm sorry. I'm just so tired. I just...I don't know what to do. I need Your strength and Your peace.

He blinks his eyes open, wiping his cheeks again in the light of the candle. Watches it flicker, trying to focus on just its glow. Trying to let everything else - the stress, the fear, the feeling of being lost - fall away, even if only for a moment.

Remembering these people is something he can do. It's simple, it doesn't actually do anything, but it matters. It has to.

There's a knock at the door.

Leon startles, jerks his head to look, but of course he can't see from the couch. He gets up, rubbing at his face again, knowing he looks like a wreck, but he can't exactly ignore whoever's here.

When he opens the door, though, he has to blink again as his heart seems to miss a beat.

"Ada?"

She gives him a small smile. "Are you going to let me in?"

He steps back, awkward, letting her step into the darkened apartment. "Uh, I would ask how you know where I live, but there probably wouldn't be a point."

"No," she agrees.

He runs a rank through his hair nervously. "Here, lemme get the lights."

"Don't. I'm here to join you."

"Huh?" His brain jumps from possibility to possibility, none of them possibly right.

"Your vigil," Ada says, moving forward into his living room like she's been there a hundred times before. "Thought you could use some company this year."

Unable to do anything else, he follows her, and they sit on the couch, oddly in sync. "I'd ask how you know about this, but..."

"I know a lot about you."

He can't even deny it. She's been able to read him too easily since the moment they met that night. He has to wonder if this is some kind of trick, too, if she's using him somehow. What does she get out of this?

"Relax, Leon. Hard to have a moment of silence when you're thinking so loudly."

He doesn't know what to say to that.

She looks at him, then, analyzing, like she always does. He gaze drops, and he thinks maybe she'll kiss him, but then it drops even further, and he sucks in a breath, realizing what she's looking at.

"I've never seen this before," she says softly, reaching over to take the cross pendant around his neck between delicate fingers. "You must keep it under your shirt when you're in the field."

"Yeah," he says, a little shaky. He doesn't know what she's going to say or do next. Is afraid she'll mock him when he still feels so raw.

Instead, there's only the slightest hint of a smile on her face, looking softer than usual in the candlelight. "It suits you." She places the cross down again, presses it again his chest lightly. "You're a good man, Leon. Maybe too good."

It takes his breath away. Quiet acceptance, words he always longs to hear but can never quite accept. It chokes him up again, and he has to look away.

Ada doesn't say anything more. Once he has himself as under control as he's going to get, he turns back to see her watching the flame with dark, far-away eyes. He wonders what she's seeing, what she's remembering. Surely that night wasn't easy for her either. Maybe she has her own struggles.

He can't bring himself to ask. It doesn't feel right. For now, this is enough. For now, just the two of them sitting close, neither of them quite alone with their thoughts - yeah, that's enough.