Rock the Boat


Summary: With everything riding on his shoulders, she hoped he should be at least a little preoccupied with the task at hand, but even though their meeting prior had raised some doubt, as soon as Ada revved the boat's engine, she knew his mind could be—and was—elsewhere. She just wished he wasn't so shameless about it.

A/N: This is my fiftieth story on ffdotnet, but ironically my first submission to the Resident Evil Fandom. I've only played through Four, Umbrella Chronicles, and am working through Archives, so if I get anything wrong, I apologize and please let me know! I'm also looking to get critiqued on the characterization/personalities of Ada and Leon. If there's anything "off" or OoC--even if it's just a thought or opinion, please tell me. OoC posting is a sin I never want to unknowingly commit. :)


Luckily, the ride from the mainland to the island wouldn't be a particularly long one, made even longer by a potential barrage of whys and hows and silences where normally explanations were placed. Luckily, the island could be seen quite easily from any point on land and the gulf surrounding it was as calm as the winter Atlantic. Luckily, her passenger, dedicated to his mission, should have few words to toss between himself and a rival operative.

Of course, luck had nothing on her iron foot and expert steering.

Even in the best scenario, she expected some dialogue—maybe an exchange of dry pleasantries, a couple dead-end questions or even shallow warnings. She had armed herself with an arsenal of vague and simple answers to any questions or statements he might try to spring on her. And if all else failed, he could always swim.

While he knew next to nothing about her objective, she could recite his mission down to the letter. She was aware of the stresses of his mission and what—and whom—he was after. Although he had been involved in Raccoon City and knew almost as much about the G- and T-viruses as an expert on the matter, his government assigned command was search and rescue. Find President Graham's daughter and return her safe and sound. Save the princess from the dragon.

In no part of Leon's order did it say anything about Umbrella, viruses or the Las Plagas master sample. She had told Wesker repeatedly because of this Leon wouldn't be a factor in her mission. Nevertheless, Wesker marked him as a threat and ordered her to see to his death.

With everything riding on his shoulders, she hoped he should be at least a little preoccupied with the task at hand, but even though their meeting prior had raised some doubt, as soon as she revved the boat's engine, she knew his mind could be—and was—elsewhere.

Ada wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth; at least he wasn't saying anything. Or maybe he was deep in thought about his task and his eyes took a chance to rest wheresoever they pleased. She stole a glance in his direction out of the corner of her eye. He was cognitive, alright. Shameless with his eyes still connected to one head or another.

It certainly wasn't that it bothered her, or made her feel in the least bit uncomfortable. She ran around in two-inch stilettos and a backless, slit-to-the-hip maroon dress on an island infested with zombified and primarily XY inhabitants probably interested in R.T.K. tactics if given enough free will and creativity. It was next to impossible to make her feel uncomfortable.

It was part of the reason she had picked the outfit in the first place, so if anything she had made the right choice: she could work it and work well in it. If it distracted her counterparts for even a split second, she considered herself at an advantage.

Now outside of dangerous situations, gaping was understandable—she should believe he was more attentive in the field—but the seconds turned into minutes and it was really beginning to irritate her. Was this something new, or had he always been like this? She couldn't remember.

She could feel his eyes moving slowly up and down her frame, but she kept her gaze straight ahead. They were closing in on the island. Finally, he looked away from her body and at her, twisting his body so he could face her outright with words forming on his lips. She turned her head to return to him an almost indignant smirk. There was no way she was letting him have his cake and eat it, too.

Eyes ahead, she gripped the steering wheel and spun it violently. She felt his weight bang against the opposite side of the boat and she smiled inwardly, almost praying he would fall in.

The vessel sputtered as it came to halt against the sheer cliff, small waves crashing against its side. Grappling gun in hand, Ada fired the hook into the side of the rock wall. She stood easily in the craft as the movement of the waters rocked it from side to side with her right leg positioned on the steering wheel.

"I've got some business to take care of." she bade him, pausing as she tilted her head to try and meet his eyes. She sighed. "Leon, my eyes are up here…"

Suddenly aware he was being watched, his head jerked upward in time to see the corners of her lips curl. "See you later."

Pulling the trigger, Ada zipped up and out of sight. Her rapid departure spun the motorboat nearly out of control. Leon hurriedly grabbed for the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel with his right hand, bracing for impact with the other. The craft rammed into the rocky crag with a startling slam before drifting to a steady stop.

Draping his arm over the passenger seat, he allowed himself a moment's reprieve. No matter the training, women instinctually let their thoughts and emotions overrule the decree of logic by some degree. Sure, his gawking schoolboy act had been shameless and unprofessional, but he had gotten through to her better than any words could have done. Now that he was in her head, he knew her signature last words were more of a promise, and less of a farewell.

A slight smile on his face, he breathed out heavily—partly a laugh, partly a sigh. "Women."