Leon thought he'd put it all behind him by now—Raccoon City, the various traumas that came with his job, and most importantly Ada Wong. He'd stuffed the memories down into the pit of his stomach, and waited for the coldness of it all to make him numb.

And for a while, it worked. He quit drinking, managed to hold down a real relationship for the first time in years. His boyfriend was steady, something normal in a life that was anything but.

So why did seeing Ada again on his last mission make him feel like his nerves were fraying, like he was being plucked a part at the very seams. He sighed and tipped the whiskey bottle back, skipping the glass entirely.

His attention was drawn from his own thoughts by your voice. The look in your eyes made him want to keel over, he hated that worried concern etched into your features. He blew it off, of course. "Yeah, everything's fine," he lied.

But you didn't let it go. "Are you really ok?" you pressed. His grip on the bottle tightened until the glass splintered in his hand. Was he okay?

No. No he wasn't. And he wished you'd stop looking at him like that. Like he would shatter at any moment—why was his vision blurry, were those tears? Shit.

"No," he rasped. "No I'm not ok." He shuddered, shoulders trembling with the rest of his body.