Leon had found her. Ashley. He couldn't believe it at first, after everything he had been through. But there she was, looking as scared and helpless as he had imagined, her eyes wide with terror. The nightmare he had been chasing for days, weeks even, was finally right in front of him.

But then everything changed in an instant. She attacked Leon.

The infection—whatever the hell it was—had taken control of Ashley completely. Her eyes weren't the same anymore. There was nothing human left in them. She was no longer the President's daughter. She was a puppet, a weapon, and he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

A minute later she regained control, Leon could see that, but it was too late. She didn't want to hurt him. She didn't want to hurt anyone. So she ran.

He could still hear the sound of her footsteps fading away in the distance, and for a moment. It was hard not to feel like he failed when he'd come so close, only for it to slip away.

But Leon couldn't stop. Not now. Not when he knew she was out there somewhere, still alive, still worth saving.

Leon could feel it in his arm—the infection spreading. It was slow, creeping through him, like a shadow he couldn't shake off. It wasn't the first time he had faced something like this, but it wasn't something he was used to either. The pain wasn't enough to stop Leon, though. He had a job to do. Ashley was still his mission. He wouldn't let this infection take him before he got her out of here.

The castle loomed over Leon, its stone walls cold and uninviting. He kept moving, checking every corner, every room. Each step was more uncertain than the last, but he couldn't let himself lose focus.

Leon stepped into a dusty, disheveled room, his weapon tightly gripped in his hands, alert to every sound. However, he didn't expect that the creaking window would distract him enough for someone to approach from behind.

The click of high heels followed by the voice. The person clearly took shape in his mind. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk curved on his lips.

For some reason, Leon wasn't surprised. Your actions no longer surprised him after he had seen you die, only for you to reappear years later, in Spain, right where Leon had a mission, unharmed. He knew full well that you were a liar, an actress, a manipulative, cunning woman. But to Leon's dismay, these qualities only made you more attractive in his eyes.

You stepped closer, gun against his nape, made him drop his own.

"Well after six years that is one hell of a greeting..." he muttered holding his hands up in surrender.

While you responded, Leon made his move, disarmed you, and you were quick to react, gracefully moving out of his knife's way, but ended up with a knife against your throat. "Try using knives next time. Better for close encounters."

As you were close, looking up to him with those eyes, Leon used every second, taking in your appearance, trying to process the fact that you were there, breathing. But probably on the other side again.

"Who are you working for this time?" he asked, but not even hoped for reply. And of course, you refused to give answer.

Leon stepped back, put away his knife, just as you did with your gun. Neither of you wanted to hurt the other one, it was clear, even if you'd had many chances to do it. Neither of you was capable of doing that.