Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The End

He didn't have to touch her to make her heart beat quick and her breath catch. But she couldn't resist the fantasy of it. The caress she wished she could have without consequences, without the prying eyes of powerful people, the stain of her life seeping into every waking moment.

The sensation like shards of glass that dug into her throat came before the usual cough. The curse had gone on for so long, she forgot what her life was like without it. The stems twisted inside her throat. Her hand clutched her neck. Her blood trickled from the corner of her mouth and slid over the peaks and valleys of her fingers.

It was the blooms that instilled panic and spilled from her mouth. She held one of her hands out to catch a full blossom. The petals had curled up, saturated in her blood.

She had to focus on anything, everything, something else. She fixed her watering eyes on the sharp arch of the garden windows. The shimmering blue hue of the sun's slow ascent into the horizon played along the warped glass. From where she stood, her reflection was a misshapen twisted version of herself.

She leaned against the tall oak; nails gripped the cool bark. The mist settled in around her, obscuring the view of the rest of the god forsaken manor she'd clawed her way out of. She pressed her back against the tree and sank to the ground as she gasped for breath. It wouldn't be long now.

She watched the horizon like an hourglass, the sand filling up her lungs, pooling stems and petals from her chest.

If she sat quietly, gave into the tug from inside, she could feel the stems move like tiny arms reaching out of her mouth, begging her to say it, to tell him, to let it out. But love wasn't her thing, at least that's what she told herself. This curse was a reminder.

Love was only agony.

The Beginning

Hours within the manor had left Ada marinated in the overwhelming scent of flowers with little ammo and a headache. She nearly choked as the scent only strengthened. Another one of those bloomed ones stumbled around the corner. She had heard the wheezing before she saw it. It lumbered toward her, and she raised her weapon.

What once were feet, now swallowed in flowers of all shapes and sizes, dragged across the floor. The petals barely hung onto the carcass. Withered once white blooms had stained with dirt and blood. If she hadn’t had any intel about the contagion, she’d have no idea there were remnants of a person underneath the plethora of flowers. Its pitiful moans echoed down the halls.

Lightning flashed across the decrepit window. It lit the glistening fluids that pooled from a gaping hole somewhere on its chest. The lungs were inside, rotted away and pumping the stems of more of the ghastly blooms. She aimed for its center and pulled the trigger. It stumbled long enough for her to kick it back onto the floor. The creature gave a pitiful moan. Ada had no time to see if there were any saving it. She pulled out her knife and stood over its consumed body. The blade plunged into its center. A long moan turned into a sigh before its body lay limp on the ground.

Ada cleaned her knife and tucked it away. She stepped around the body and quickly advanced down the corridor. She counted the doors along the hall, knew the one she needed. To her irritation, someone had locked it before she got there. And from the look of the door, someone had sealed it shut. There was no way Dr. Ashbourne had locked it himself, most likely holed up in the laboratory that nested somewhere in the intricate manor. What little intel she had was airtight, no one would know she was there.

She took out her comm and pulled up the floor plan. The door before her was the correct one. With it locked, she’d find another way inside. She zoomed out and found a window into the room that pointed toward a large round space, possibly a courtyard. She’d have to take the long way around to the main staircase.

“Nothing is ever easy,” she said under her breath. At least the courtyard would get her access to some fresh air instead of the stagnant floral scent that lingered in the halls and mixed with the sickly-sweet rotting smell of death.

Even though she knew she'd taken down the bloomed corpse, Ada took tentative steps back to peak around the corner. The figure that she’d left on the floor had disappeared and left a puddle of deep crimson mixed with petals.

A shiver ran up her spine before she made her way toward the staircase. There was something particularly disturbing about this illness. The way it took over the host made her skin crawl, smothered in flowers was a grueling way to go. She had time on her slow train ride to Ashbourne Manor to pour over the documents her client had sent her. Most of it was outdated information on the man behind it all and a floorplan of his estate. As always, the job felt underpaid, but she'd get more when she had what she wanted.

An ancient seed that the residents brought in from overseas was all it took to tear the estate apart. From what she gathered through the files sent to her by her client, the Ashbourne's thought it was the cure for death. The doctor had implanted the cloned seeds into cadavers in hopes that one day his stone-cold beloved would rise once more. Rather poetic if it weren't so morbid. That was where the trail ended. Any further information would come from within the manor’s walls.

The main staircase trailed down to the foyer where only a small round table sat by the door. Someone had filled a vase with flowers that now withered and cracked with lack of water. She'd read that the doctor had fired the staff to be alone with his research. The staircase led up to a massive portrait, evidently painted by hand in the way the brush strokes were visible to the eye.

She leaned against the high newel and took in the portrait. The love of his life, forever preserved behind paint, tucked into the tarnished and cobweb infested frame, stared back at Ada. Her bright blue eyes and long blond hair felt so familiar that her heart raced. The woman sat in a flowing powder blue gown. On the dress train rested petals of rich purple bell-shaped flowers. She clutched delicate stems in her hand topped with light blue blooms.

Someone had begun to rap on the tall front door, startling Ada out of her appraisal. She thought she'd left the door unlocked. Who else would set foot on this property if not another mercenary? She pulled out her gun and slid back into the shadows at the side of the portrait. There was enough soft velvet drapery around the top of the staircase to keep her out of sight.

The massive knob at the front door turned. The first thing Ada noticed was the barrel of a familiar handgun. The next was the same shade of blond hair she'd thought about only moments earlier. Her heart picked up when she got the full view of the man that persistently haunted her past and came traipsing into her present.

"Leon," Ada whispered. Her voice carried more than she thought it would. His head tilted toward the top of the stairs. She sunk deeper into the velvet. The soft lighting of sconces illuminated his face. Fondness bloomed in her chest as it had every time she’d met him. Even now, she could tell the world weighed heavy on his shoulders, still soldiering on. That clear disappointment in the world shown in the dark circles under his eyes and the frown on his lips.

"Hello?" His voice darted around the room in a ghostly echo. The way his eyes traveled up the crimson runner, along the stairs, and to the imposing portrait told her that he hadn't spotted her. He lowered his gun and tucked it into his holster at his hip. He wore a light black jacket this time. She didn't blame him for it with the way the fog rolled in at night and into the early morning. The cold chill crept across the property and seeped into the house.

If someone called Leon here, then her mission had become more complex. She'd taken too long to infiltrate the lab. For a fleeting moment, she thought she could approach him and gain his aid. But after Spain, and Raccoon for that matter, there was no chance of obtaining any sense of trust from him. They'd crossed paths briefly after that, tension between them had only heightened. Every time they impulsively came close to desire, she left him without explanation. She couldn't explain what held her back. No, she'd do this on her own. Ada waited until he disappeared behind the door to the east before she slipped out of the shadows of the velvet drapery.

"Not a good idea. Lots of bloomed ones in there," she said under her breath. The space was silent except for the creaks and moans of the old manor. The sun slipped through the thick layer of clouds. Its light shone through the multicolored stained glass of the circular window above the front door. As she stepped into the light, it cast her body in an array of hues. She held her arms up to see them shine over her skin in a kaleidoscope of color.

The look of it all reminded her so closely of the bloomed corpses, covered in soiled multicolored flowers, that she quickly moved toward the door to the west, farther from Leon. She didn't need to worry about him, she never had.

Infected

The circular room she'd searched for was a tall space nearly covered completely in glass. All around her were windows, including a glass ceiling that no one appeared to clean. Leaf litter and foliage covered a good portion of the roof. Most of the glass remained stained by constant fog and rain.

A walking path cut through grass and wilted brush. Ada pulled up her comm map and counted the windows until she found the room with the locked door. She lifted her hook shot from her hip and pointed it at the sill of the window that jutted from the wall. With a tug, her grapple pulled her into the air.

Balanced on the window, she found purchase on the pane with her fingers and pulled it open. The room on the other side was dim but did little to put her mind at ease. Experience had taught her that anything could lurk in the dark.

The overwhelming scent of flowers hit her first, and then the quiet emptiness of the room as her eyes adjusted. Ada had found herself in a study. Floor to ceiling shelves filled the room with tomes. The large oak desk sat in the center with a stately chair. At the top of the chair's tall back were wooden pointed spires like the ones she'd seen on the outside of the manor. In the center was a family crest etched into worn dark leather. Whoever Dr. Ashbourne was as a person, he enjoyed his fair share of gothic architecture and grandeur.

Ada moved around the desk that held little in the way of personal effects except the small round portrait of the same woman she'd seen in the great entrance room. This portrait had her light hair tied up into a bun on her head, pinned with little white daisies. She picked up the picture and turned it over in her hands. Many times, throughout her jobs she'd find clues to some door or mechanism on objects like this. Instead, she found a message.

Happy anniversary. Forever follow the butterflies.

With all my love,

Eleanor

Now there was a name to the face that Ada could not avoid while moving through the infested manor. She set down the small frame and took in the room. Was this really the entrance to the doctor's lab? No piece of art nor book on the shelf gave away a secret entrance mechanism. She lifted her comm and studied the map again. It confirmed that there was a door somewhere that led down.

The wood gave beneath her feet as she walked around as most old homes did, but it was the strange sound of one floorboard that made her stop and look down. Long time-worn scratch marks extended over the wooden floor from where she stood to the desk. Ada moved around to the back of the desk and gave it a push in the direction of the marks. Quite easily, it moved as if on rails over the floor. When she'd finished, the planks slid apart to reveal a long dark staircase that led down.

"Well, that wasn't too hard," she said as she pressed forward. The stairs spiraled down to another door which opened into the lab she'd searched for. The space was worse for wear after the outbreak throughout the estate. A disturbance had left instruments thrown around the room with glass scattered in shards and pebbles across the floor. Each step she took, she heard a soft crunch beneath her boot. Within the rubble were petals and small blooms that had cascaded off the bodies they grew from.

"Now, where did you put them?" Ada asked the room. The seeds were her mission. She needed to take at least one for her client. It wasn't her business to ask what they would do with it. She assumed, like most clients, it was a profit venture and nothing more. Anything more than that would require investing money into scientists. By now, most of them knew how that ended up for the lost souls of Umbrella.

Ada searched the labs and read some files on the life-giving bloom that came from the original seed. She found a tiny log that appeared to belong to the doctor. As she flipped through the entries she found the writing devolved from a log of experiments to more of a rambling journal.

Oct 10

It took little time for her body to adjust to the seed that I implanted into her chest. I could not contain the tears that sprung from my eyes when I got the first glimpses of her moving chest in breath. My Eleanor, she lives. But only just. Her heart remains cold; her eyes closed in slumber. I missed something. I need more seeds. I need to study them, look into the ancient texts.

Oct 23

This was not what I wanted. The seeds have given life to other unwilling victims, but not my Eleanor. She remains as she has, a beautiful breathing doll.

Now, I have the locals banging at my door asking where my servants have gone. I lied. I told them that in my grief, I fired them all and that they left the village. While it is a wild tale, my grief is true and growing each day as quickly as the ancient plant in her chest.

Oh, Eleanor, I am so close to awakening you.

Ada tucked the small journal into the pouch on her holster in case she needed more information from the man. Unfortunately, the place where they supposedly stored the seeds were devoid of them. With all the corpses wandering the house, it made her question whether they were all used in the man's desperate experiments.

A row of test canisters was vacant of specimens. One in particular stood out to her. Its glass had shattered into shards that littered the counter and the floor. She leaned in to see if any remnants of the plant remained inside the container. The glass had burst outward as if whatever lurked within had breached containment on its own. The only thing left was the moisture from the mist that activated periodically to keep them alive. Ada never came back to a client empty handed. Either there were more seeds somewhere else or there was something else of value here.

She'd moved on to investigate some paperwork scattered on the nearby workstation. There was a small tug around her ankle. Long spindly roots moved together like a snake and had begun to move up her leg. With a start, she dropped the papers and attempted to kick off the intruder. Its grip only tightened at her efforts.

Before Ada walked into the lab, she'd made sure to keep as quiet as possible. There was no telling if the bloomed ones found loud noise attractive, and she'd rather not alert the doctor to her presence within the manor. But as the roots skittered up her leg and over her body, she stepped backwards into a desk. Glass shattered behind her and other objects fell to the tiled floor with a loud crash.

The roots were long and wiry. They inched up like spindly spiders that grasped for her face. She tried to tear them off and only managed to remove some of them before the others slipped by and moved closer. Panic welled in her chest.

The thought of pulling out her knife came too late. While the blade slipped through some of the roots, a portion slipped past her lips and into her mouth. She stumbled backwards, dropped the knife, and grasped her throat.

The roots had carried something with it. Ada felt it slide back behind her tongue.

Chapter Text

Seedling

The cough rattled her chest, shaking around whatever had slipped into her body. She stumbled around the lab, her arms were out in front of her, and her hands grabbed for something to hold onto. In her panicked haze, she managed to find a door out of the lab and pushed it open.

The door slammed behind her, and she leaned back against it. Ada squeezed her eyes shut and took deep breaths until the crawling sensation in her throat ceased. As she gazed up at the staircase, she felt as though she had hovered above herself. She shook softly against the door and refused to allow the panic to swallow her whole.

This wasn't the first time Ada had to combat an infection like this. And in this line of work, it most likely wouldn't be the last. She knew what to do and had done it before.

"The doctor's not here." Ada's raspy voice jarred her. The thought had slipped from her lips and brought her back to the present. "He's not here." She forced her limbs to move, took out her comm, and scanned the floor plans. If Dr. Ashbourne wasn't in this one, there would have to be another. Her map gave her no sign of one, but there was a chance the map predated it. She pulled out the small leather-bound journal and flipped through its pages. Wherever the doctor kept Eleanor's lifeless body, Ada would find the lab and key to her cure. He'd spoken about his experiments on his wife but not where he kept her body.

Oct 30

I will keep her here, close to me. Those accursed bodies have accumulated within the other lab and throughout the house. I can't risk them having contact with Eleanor. Nothing can disturb my experiments.

Wait for me, my darling. I will bring you back.

His words confirmed to Ada that he had a second lab somewhere on the property. The only way to find it was to search. Her body felt numb and weightless as she ascended the stairs. A few times, she had to lean against the cool wall to keep from falling over. She caught her breath at the top and pressed her heated forehead against the door. How was she going to do this?

The door did not lead back to the study she'd come from before. Instead, she found herself staring down a dimly lit hallway. The fragrant scent of flowers was not as strong here.

"Get it together," Ada said to herself as she pushed away from the wall.

"Ada." Her name sounded as if someone said it underwater, warped in its softness. "Ada." She couldn't pinpoint where the sweet voice came from down the hall.

"Show yourself," she said.

"You have to destroy it." The voice came in clearer, as if someone turned the dial of a radio, scanned for the words. "The seed." Ada picked a direction and willed herself to move.

"Destroy the seed, Ada." Eleanor's eyes were the same pale blue she'd seen in the portraits. But her lips had changed to a deathly shade of purple. Her golden hair was wild, some strands sticking to the sides of her face, and descended down her shoulders. Her hand shot out and took hold of Ada's upper arm. She hissed in pain as the spirit squeezed. "Before it's too late," Eleanor said, and then loosened her grip. "Before the bloom."

Ada took a step back and held her arm in her hand. The woman's mouth continued to move but no words came out. As quickly as the ghost appeared, it vanished. Ada took another step back. The scent of flowers strengthened through the quiet hall. Deep red marks in the shape of slim fingers appeared on Ada's skin where Eleanor had grabbed her.

"I'm losing it," Ada said. Once she cleared herself of this infection, she'd leave with or without the seed for her client. Unless. She stopped in the middle of the hall and took out her comm. The darkened screen reflected her frantic eyes back at her as if she peered down a pool of still water. Ada thought about leaving and getting the damned thing removed by her client somehow. They'd have their seed, and she'd have her freedom. Except. Except Leon was still there in the house.

Ada's cough rocked her heated body. She leaned against the wall on her forearm and dropped her comm to press her hand against her mouth. She knew she couldn't leave and not warn him. She pictured him trapped in this manor, this tomb, with those roots crawling around. She pictured him curled on the ground, flowers around his golden hair, as the seed engulfed him in blooms.

The cough intensified and made her body bow to it. She felt the first trickle of warm liquid from between her lips and had to do something to make it stop. Her heart threatened to burst through her chest with fear. She couldn’t panic. This wasn't like her. She had to center herself and will this thing to submit. She sank down to a squat to keep herself steady as she focused on the tangible world around her.

The hallway was cooler than the others. Its warm light fixers lined the hall. Beautiful velvet curtains draped the windows. She reached out with her other hand and stroked the smooth fabric and took in the subtle floral motif. Even the intricately patterned rug had winding vines, faded with wear and time. Eleanor really loved flowers, didn't she? Or was this Dr. Ashbourne’s doing?

Soon, the only sounds in the hall were of her labored breathing. Her chest loosened enough for her to feel steady. And while the fever persisted, the cough did not.

When Ada pulled her hand away from her mouth, she found blood and petals.

Budded

She attempted to keep away from the kitchen and dining area of the manor as that was the direction Leon had gone. Knowing him, he'd be far away from there by now to cause commotion elsewhere, but Ada didn't want to risk it. As she suppressed another cough, it didn't stop the ache in her chest.

With new insistence, Ada trudged forward through the estate. The longer she lingered the more she saw, without the staff there to maintain the home, things had fallen into disrepair. From the outside, even the front entry, the manor resembled a palace devoted to love. The deeper one wandered, the more evident the rot and decay became.

Her fever made it difficult to get around. Every few rooms she forced herself to stop and catch her breath. It wasn't the infection that made her uneasy, or the search for answers in a secret lab. It was the ghost that put her on edge.

Ada turned a corner, and the hem of a light billowing dress dashed into the next room. The door closed steadily behind the apparition. She never believed in ghosts. There was always an explanation for the supernatural. Yet, she'd seen it there in the halls of Ashbourne Manor. There were moments when she'd convinced herself that these visions were because of the fever. Then, she'd peer down at the hand mark Eleanor had left on her arm. Ada had to admit, if the walking dead could exist, then why not ghosts?

She grasped the handle of the door before it fully closed, opened it wide, and took a step forward. Her boot never reached solid ground. Instead, it sank through a hole in the floor big enough for her entire body to fall through. Her sweaty fingers slipped over the metal knob for purchase, and she plummeted to the floor below. She didn't have a chance to pull out her hook shot before her back hit the ground hard.

The breath rushed out of her as she stared up into the darkened overcast sky. The roof had collapsed in and took the floor below with it. Ada lay still and attempted to breath the chilled and damp air into her exhausted lungs. When she finally caught her breath, she stood and stumbled over the rubble. Whatever the room contained before the collapse didn't seem to matter to anyone inside a house filled with ghosts and walking corpses.

The hall outside the room was shorter than the one upstairs, the walls narrower, and the ceiling lower with light fixtures in the shape of tulips. She pushed open the door at the end and found the kitchen.

She hovered in the threshold. There was no way she was in the east wing. Had she lost her way somehow? Maybe the fever confused her. Or was the ghost leading her somewhere? She went to check her comm but came up empty. Her eyes closed with the realization that she'd left it in the hall upstairs. There was no time to go back and get it. She had to reorient herself. Moreso, she knew this side of the manor harbored many bloomed corpses. But now that the first lab was a bust, the bloomed may lead her to the second. She just hoped she didn't run into Leon.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, her body ached. Ada pressed her palm against her chest and willed herself to suppress the cough. The pain from doing so radiated throughout her body. If she made enough noise down here, the bloomed ones would find her.

She staggered into the kitchen. Old food sat on the counter covered in dried blood and filled the space with a putrid smell. She stepped over some pots that littered the floor. A small window above the porcelain sink, framed by short linen curtains, gave a glimpse of the outside world like a painting in its beauty. A large tree sat lonely among the mist, untouched by the decay of the house.

Ada walked through the kitchen and stilled when the knob to the dining room shook. She pulled out her weapon even though she knew she had few bullets left. The longer she watched the door the more her vision swam from the fever. The lines etched along the wood wobbled in her eyes. The door opened slowly with a long squeak as a bloomed corpse pressed its body against it. It wheezed softly, and petals moved with the contraction of its chest. Some of the flowers had withered on its body and broke off as soon as it took a step toward her.

She raised the barrel of her gun to its rasping chest and pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped through the corpse. Instead of stumbling back, the bloomed sprang forward with the mangled remains of its arms outstretched toward her. Its moan sounded too loud in the quiet room. In that moment, she realized she couldn't take it down with the ammo she had. With one step back and then another, she moved around the short table in the center of the room to lead it away from the door.

She relocated into the dining room as it maneuvered around the kitchen. The space was larger with a long table that stretched down the center. The place settings had sat untouched long enough to accumulate dust. Wilted dry flowers lay across the pale tablecloth. A cold fireplace, fixed against the far wall, appeared cavernous in dark soot like a mouth wide in mid-scream.

Ada banked on the corpse’s slow movements to keep it from reaching her in this room. Because of its lack of eyes, she wasn't sure how it knew where she was. The fever intensified and her vision twisted the room around her. The floor wiggled and turned. She stumbled and grabbed onto the dusty chairs as she went.

The corpse’s lumbering steps came from the door behind her. Something tugged her ankle and sent her to the floor. The bloomed had come close enough to stretch a vine out to halt her. It slid up her leg as the undead crawled toward her, arms reached out as it moaned.

She cursed as she held up her gun and prayed what ammo she had would be enough. The shot rang out, but she hadn't pulled the trigger. Had she pulled the trigger? She lifted her gun and inspected it. The longer she stared at the weapon, the image of it swam, colors melted together.

"Get up, Ada!" Leon's voice bounced around the room like Eleanor's. Her heart squeezed at the thought of him dead and covered in ghoulish flora. Could she have prevented it? If she had just stuck around, kept out of the shadows. Ada wasn't a crier. She couldn't even remember the last time she had cried. But if she could cry, she thought she'd do it now. It only felt appropriate with his death. He deserved someone to mourn him.

"Ada!" More gunshots rang out, and still her body refused to move. She stared up at the dining room ceiling and listened to Leon's ghost. The crafted wood molding ran along the ceiling. Someone had taken the time to carve intricate flowers into them. The images appeared to writhe, vibrant and forbidding, across the ceiling. The walls expanded in breath along with it as if the house were as alive as she was, as diseased as she was.

"Ada, get up!" Leon's voice wobbled like the doors, like her gun, and the floor that wouldn't remain still. Ada rolled over onto her stomach and crawled toward the door that she knew led to the entrance hall. Maybe she could leave, find her client, and have the seed removed before she had to face another corpse. Not Leon's corpse. Never Leon's corpse. He was too fast, too smart to die. But she heard him then, as he called to her, and shot a spectral gun.

The cough that tore from her throat halted her crawl. Her body curled on the floor, thrown by the waves of anguish in her chest. The heat, that belonged in the bowels of the fireplace, raged beneath her skin. Each cough was like nails raking her insides. Something wanted out, and Ada was powerless to tell it no.

And then his hands were on her. Arms pulled her higher and higher. Maybe she drifted away with his ghost. No, ghosts weren't real. Eleanor's ghost wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't.

"Ada? Ada, you need to breathe," Leon's low voice whispered. "Here, feel here." He took her clenched fist and slipped his fingers between hers. Her hand bloomed open for him to press her palm flat against his chest. He was so warm as his heart pounded beneath her fingertips. For a moment, she felt a longing she hadn't allowed herself to feel before. That strong warmth against her skin, the one that pressed against her wound in that doomed city, the same warmth she had held against her lips, surrounded her now.

"Breathe like this," he said. His chest moved in and out with breath. She followed along before another cough arose. What was it about Leon that made her feel this way? Her vision began to clear as she focused on the face hovering over her. Those blue eyes stared down at her. They reminded her so much of the woman in paint.

"Eleanor?" she whispered. She reached up to press her fingertips against the spirit's cheek and immediately pulled away. Not Eleanor. It was Leon's familiar face filled with concern. His brows came together, and lips pressed into a thin line as he watched her pull away from him. Leon was alive. He was alive. Sobering frustration overtook her relief. Ada attempted to roll out of his arms. She'd never been some damsel—she’d rescue herself.

"Whoa, Ada, wait." He gripped her more firmly. She had almost rolled down the stairs at the front entrance. Now she understood. Leon had brought her there, sat on the steps, and coaxed her to breathe. He absently continued to hold her hand against his chest. She stared down at their fingers together.

Ada couldn't remain here wrapped in his arms. It wasn't what she was supposed to do. After Raccoon City, after Spain, they needed distance. She knew he wanted that. Yet, he stared down at her with a compassion that Ada felt unequipped to address. It was better if he was angry with her, bitter over her lie. It was better to force that distance. It was better.

"Let me go," she said and began to tug away from him again. Her fingers curled against his chest into a fist once more. Leon didn't fight her this time. He stood as she stood. He had reined in his expression after her sharp words. That's right, he should be angry with her.

"You should leave," she said. It was always what she said to him. Even though she always meant it, part of her wanted him to stay with her. She muffled the next cough with her fist.

"Sounds like you're the one that needs to leave." An edge had formed in his voice; one she felt more comfortable with.

"I'll be fine."

"You almost died back there." He said it like an accusation, devoid of the care he'd shown her only moments ago.

"You don't know what you're up against," she said.

"What's going on here, Ada?" When he said her name, something like sorrow slipped through. It sounded so close to the way her chest tightened, and her breath came quickly that she resisted the urge to look him in the eye. She couldn't stay there with him. He made her feel worse.

"Stay away from those things. Don't let them grab you." She moved back toward the dining room door and stopped. "Look out for their roots. They carry seeds." With that, Ada moved through the door and back into the mess he'd made. Where the bloomed corpse once lay was only a puddle of blood and flowers.

Chapter Text

Bloomed

Ada lost track of time as she roamed the manor. She willed herself not to think about the encounter with Leon. She'd put together the pattern. Something about his presence agitated the infection within her and incited the cough. Each time, the reaction worsened. More petals and blood slipped from between her lips. If she wanted to stop the spread from devouring her, she had to keep moving forward.

The next door she entered led into a spacious master bedroom. Someone had continued to maintain this particular room. No dust lingered on the shelves, nothing had fallen over, and no disarray lay on the small writing desk. The bed was a large four poster with a long white sheer canopy around it. All one had to do was pull a tie and the whole thing would come down over the bed for privacy.

Ada went to the writing desk and opened it. She took a step back when a butterfly fluttered out of it, circled the room, and left through the open door. A single thin journal sat on the dark wood surface. On top of it lay a dried lily. She carefully moved the flower and picked up the notebook before she flipped through. This one had neat curvy handwriting between light lines on the page.

Aug 12

I find myself missing our home. I know this trip is important to you, Sebastian. I miss you dearly. The flower we searched for has to be here on these sacred lands. I can feel it.

Sometimes when I sit outside at night, I feel as though I can sense you there staring up at the same moon. I long for your touch, your love. I will return with what we seek. I promise.

Aug 22

Sebastian, I've found our flower. It isn't what I expected. When we excavated the remains, I had to center myself. Never had I seen a more beautiful sight. The bones lay wrapped in the bloom's embrace. It appeared to have merged with the corpse, unfurled in between its teeth. I still have to examine it.

The problem is, my dear, the flower has withered over the years. Brownish tendrils are all that remains of our magnificent discovery. I will find a way to bring it home.

Aug 27

A seed was all it took. I found it within the bones, nestled where the heart should be. I will return home immediately. I am also unwell. The physician here says I have a fever, but nothing else seems to be the matter now that I have found what we sought all these years! A miracle.

Ada placed the journal back onto the desk. There was nothing on its pages about a lab, or anything to do with the house for that matter. But the text did illuminate how Eleanor had died, quickly by disease.

"Follow the butterflies," Eleanor's voice whispered in Ada's ear. She turned with her gun drawn but she stood alone in the extravagant bedroom. The window banged open and allowed a gust of wind inside. The light drapes fluttered over the wood floor. Ada lowered and holstered her weapon. She'd need to look somewhere else.

Two small white butterflies drifted in from outside and moved in the same pattern the other butterfly had. Follow the butterflies. That's what Eleanor had said. This time, Ada followed them out of the room and down the hall. It was as though they had a set path and ignored her completely. The two brought her down a stairwell she hadn't seen before, even on the comm map. She supposed it was the workers’ back entrance to another area of the house.

These corridors were unlit and tight. She pulled out her weapon just in case and hoped her vision would remain clear in case another bloomed corpse showed up. She stifled another cough but felt blood running down the corner of her lip. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and kept pace with Eleanor's butterflies.

They disappeared around the next bend. She met a dead end to the hall and a large double door. A muffled trickle of water came from the other side. She put away her gun and pushed the doors open with both arms. The sight before her took her breath away.

Tall glass came together in a peak at the roof. The area was smaller than the courtyard she'd found but built in a similar shape. The stained-glass walls showed images of flowers and butterflies frolicking in a raining meadow. The dreary day dimly lit the space enough for Ada to take notice of the blooming shrubs and wildflowers that overtook the grass beneath her feet. A small stone path lead her to a tall fountain, the source of the trickling sound. The refracted light from the ripples of water bounced around the walls like shimmering gems. There was a stone butterfly at the top of the fountain and petals that brought the water down until it swept into a larger basin at the base.

Ada placed her hands on the edge and leaned forward to look inside. Tiles lined the bottom in shimmering blue and purple. She took notice of a bright blue butterfly that landed on her hand. It opened and closed its iridescent wings. Another perched on her other hand. She lifted it up so she could see it closer. Its tiny black limbs tip toed its way up to her finger where it remained.

Soon, more and more came to rest on her until she stood, arms out in front her, and gazed at them all. For a moment, she felt her heart settle. The ache subsided enough for Ada to take a deep breath. The room smelled floral without the sickly-sweet scent of death that usually lingered with it. An oasis in the middle of hell. She closed her eyes as another set of soft wings rested on her brow.

Now that she concentrated on the sensation, she felt a number of them all over her body. The thought should have revolted her. It should have brought her some kind of panic. Why were they attracted to her? Was it the infection—this seed that had nested in her chest?

Unease came over her. She felt someone’s eyes on her in the room. From the absence of wheezing and moaning, she knew it wasn't a bloomed corpse. When she opened her eyes, she found blue ones staring back at her. But this time, it was the ghost.

"Follow them. Destroy the seed." Eleanor's voice broke up between words, but Ada understood. At least, she thought she did.

"I did follow them," she replied. The spirit's frown deepened, and she shook her head. As she did, tiny blossoms tumbled from her hair and to the floor where they disappeared.

"Before it's too late," Eleanor whispered and vanished. The blue eyes remained. These too held a wealth of sorrow behind them, but they belonged to someone else. Ada stood silent and still like a statue with butterflies surrounding her.

Leon watched with alarm etched into his expression. Ada wondered what she looked like standing there in the presence of these little creatures, and blood smeared across her lip. She dared not to say a word, to say his name. She feared the reaction she'd have if she did. Possibly another violent cough with flowers to follow.

The fever kicked up again. As she stared at Leon, the world tilted, his body doubled and wobbled before her eyes. Ada lost her balance and held onto the fountain to keep her upright. Leon blinked, as if to whisk away a vision, and stepped forward. Ada held up a hand to stop him. Some of the butterflies had dashed away, while others remained.

"Don't," Ada rasped. Even though she wanted to, she refused to beg. In her line of work, she never would. She'd left that life of begging, of harrowing bloodshed. Maybe this was fitting for her. To die because of the very thing that she deemed she would never experience nor wanted to. Affection.

That's what this was. She put a name to the feeling, to the swell in her chest when she felt him near, and to the flutter in her stomach when he touched her. His smile made her believe in the good in people. His heart laid bare for everyone to find. A gift, even the cruel way it tore him apart to see his hope contradicted. She didn’t stand a chance—drawn to that gift like Icarus to the sun.

"You're infected, aren't you?" he asked.

"What?"

"Hanahaki. At least, that's what the notes called it." His voice was low and imploring as if she were a deer he meant not to startle. She trained her features to look unsurprised that he knew this much.

"What else did you discover?" Ada leaned against the fountain as casually as she could. Sweat had accumulated along her forehead from the fever, and she prayed he'd stay where he was. She tried not to think about anything that would provoke another cough.

"The seed. It's what Dr. Ashbourne was working on. He cloned it and ran experiments. Once a seed is implanted into a host, it migrates into the chest." He allowed his next words to die and hover between them. She figured he'd spare her the graphic details she already knew. The longer he spoke the more she wished he had never come here. Even if she wanted to storm out and find someone to take care of this affliction, she couldn't with Leon still there and ripe for exposure.

"I think they're drawn to the smell." Ada trained her eyes on the tips of his dark boots and lifted her hand up to show him the butterfly that sat still on the back of her hand. "She said to follow the butterflies." Her skin pulsed with heat from the fever, and she contemplated the cool water in the basin. Ada's vision wavered on the insect. The creature morphed and swirled. Colors became incredibly intense and forced her to close her eyes.

"Who?" Leon asked.

"His wife."

"His wife is dead."

"She was just here," Ada said before she thought of the absurdity of that statement.

"You and I are the only ones in here," he replied. Ada dropped her hand and finally looked at him. Leon masked his expression and made himself unreadable to her. She'd seen him do it so many times that it was the face she saw when she thought of him by default. It made her ache. She thought of that young man in the parking garage covered in dirt and dried blood. His sky-blue eyes were wide with fear back then. Now he was a troubled man, a haunted hero, unphased by the horrors of man. Yet he still carried that rookie cop within. She saw it in his concern for her and in the way he had pressed her hand tenderly to his chest.

"Get out of here," Ada said before she wheezed to subdue a cough. Just the thought of him was enough to send her into a spiral of blooms and blood. She feared what would happen if he touched her again.

"Ada, you need—"

"I need you to leave me alone, Leon. Leave this place." Soon after his name left her lips, a violent cough began. The rest of the butterflies fluttered away from her, off to safety somewhere else in the garden. This time, it wouldn't stop. She couldn't push it down. The memories of them flooded her fevered brain.

Leon spoke again, but she couldn't make out what he said. His footsteps toward her sent her into a panic. She turned and left from the room, back toward the cramped hall, the workers’ staircase, and to the bedroom of the damned lovers. She choked so loud that she had no way to tell if he followed.

Ada closed the door behind her and pressed her weight into it. She slowly slid down the polish wood until she sat on the floor. Every gasp made her body contract until more blood dripped from her mouth. An object lodged between her lips, and she lifted her bloodied hand to take it from them. Her hand shook as she peered down at the fully bloomed white lily marred in red.

Affection

"Ada. Ada." Eleanor whispered. Ada's lashes lifted from her face, and she discerned the world around her. When had she fallen asleep? She swallowed and winced from the rawness of her throat. Her mouth tasted like the familiar copper of blood. The bedroom had darkened as she slept, and she sat alone on the floor in front of the door.

"Guess you can't expect to sleep peacefully in a haunted house," Ada said. Her voice wavered in and out. She stood and swayed to the open bedroom window. The moonlight danced through tree branches and sent a chill over her skin before she closed it with a click. The shadows played across the bed and drew her eyes to a white envelope that sat at the end. She hadn't noticed it there the last time she'd been in the room. Carefully, she picked it up and opened the seal. Inside were small torn pieces of paper with familiar handwriting across the page.

Ada pulled out the journal she'd carried with her from Dr. Ashbourne’s lab and flipped to the back. Sure enough, she confirmed that someone had torn the pages out before she got to it.

"Was this your doing, Eleanor?" Ada asked the quiet room. She sat on the bed with the pages cradled in her hands. Dry smeared blood covered her fingers, but she didn't have time to fret about that. She skimmed through the first half of the pages. Most of them told her what she already knew about the disease Leon had informed her of. She found a passage of interest toward the end and meticulously read through.

Love was the key all along! Love, my dear Eleanor. How astonishing that this seed knows, through human hormones and brain functions, what it means to yearn. That is what this disease responds to. I tested cures in case I ever became infected myself.

The first was a man who called out to a woman in town inside his cell. I surgically removed the seed from his chest. It took some work as the roots and flowers fought the invasion. Once I had removed the seed, the affliction had left him, but so did his ability to feel at all. This detachment led him to suicidal ideation. I had to put him out of his misery.

The second case was your chamber maid. I hadn't noticed it at first. After the man's reactions, I knew what to look for in the hosts. She had feelings for one of the other maids who I had in a cell. I tested them housed together and found that after confessions, they coughed up a withered seed entirely. The disease had vanished! Imagine that! It also appears, after testing, that even physical showing of reciprocated love functions the same way as words.

I had to eliminate them. Their bodies disposed of the seed; therefore, they are useless to me. It is interesting that those that have unrequited love, rejected by their beloved, will wither along with the seed itself.

A frustrating thought keeps me up at night. This seed may not take to every body. It concerns me that you may not have taken to it at all, Eleanor. Why have you not merged with it the way the others have? Still, you slumber.

Ada peered up at the moon, the same one Eleanor talked about in her letters. Love, huh? Was that what this was? She'd labeled it as simple affection, but maybe Dr. Ashbourne was right. Maybe this is love. Would it be better to feel nothing and have it removed or to risk confession? She turned the page to find it empty. No answers for her there.

"This is very nice, Eleanor, but I need to know where the lab is," she said to the room. It appeared there was no way to summon ghosts, as Ada was alone with her thoughts. Only she could see Eleanor's spirit. Why? Was it the seed connected to the one inside her? Leon clearly couldn't see her in the butterfly garden. Maybe that was for the best. It most likely meant he wasn’t infected.

Leon held onto his mistrust of her since Raccoon City. That was clear in the way he spoke with her in Spain. She couldn't say she blamed him. Even so, he possessed compassion for her. She felt it in the way he held her in the entrance hall and spoke softly as the world twisted on itself. He was a smart man. He knew she was only doing her job back then and even now. That didn't mean she hadn't hurt him and wouldn't have to do it again for a job. However—Ada had grown a lot since they'd first met—she didn't feel the need to go to such lengths to gain his aid. She didn't have to.

She read the pages again and came to the same conclusion. Leon didn't love her. She had only one choice and that meant she still needed to find the lab. Ada didn't need emotions in her line of work, but was that something she'd want to live with? She debated whether that was living at all. She turned over all the information she'd gleamed from being in Ashbourne Manor. Everything came back to Eleanor; the seed she brought back with her, her clear regret for doing so in the words of her ghost, and in the way her corpse rejected the seed. Follow the butterflies. Why had she said this over and over?

Ada tucked the pages into the journal and dropped it onto the bed. She didn't need it anymore. When the revelation clicked, she glanced out the window at the massive tree, one of the only ones on the property. Butterflies swarmed around it. Tiny white wings flitted around the trunk in figure eights. A few rested on its bark.

Follow the butterflies.

"There you are," Ada whispered, her breath fogged up the glass. "Underground."

Ada left the room and followed the same path she'd come before, this time with purpose. There was no time, that's how Eleanor put it. It dawned on Ada that his wife might be fighting the seed. How long could she do that? What would happen if she bloomed with the ancient seed inside her? The seed forced within her bones by the very person she loved. The thought sickened Ada.

The butterfly garden was blissfully empty and quiet when she returned. The fountain's water trickled along the stone. She followed one of the smaller butterflies with her eyes until it disappeared into a tiny crevasse in the basin. She crouched down low and eyed the crack. It ran up the fountain like a seam.

"Now, how to open you." Ada peered up at the butterfly statue poised at the top. From this angle, she made out the stained glass behind it. Just above the butterfly was what Ada had thought earlier was rain. On closer inspection, it appeared to have stained a shade of red, so light it presented pink with weather and time. The rain pooled into an open flower, like the stone one in front of her. Blood was the key.

She stood and took out her knife. Butterflies had begun to land on top of her again. One traveled over her wrist, covered in dry blood from before her rest, and up onto the dull edge of the blade. She hoped this was the answer. With a slow, careful motion, she sliced her finger until blood beaded to the surface. The butterfly migrated to her other hand and appeared to lap at her offering like nectar.

Ada lifted her bloodied finger and held it over the fountain. The ruby droplets fell into the clear water and ran down the side to the basin. She allowed quite a bit to fall before she took her hand back and put pressure on the wound. At first, she thought she'd misunderstood. Then, the fountain's water stopped. The basin began to drain out somewhere until only the tiled bottom remained.

Something clicked within the stone, and the seam where the butterfly had vanished into widened like a yawning mouth. Ada took a step back with her hand cradled at her chest. The whole fountain pulled apart down the middle. A staircase moved up to meet the edge of the path. Soft lights clicked on down the tunnel.

"The warmest welcome I'll ever get in this house," Ada said before she pushed forward into the dark.

Chapter Text

To the Roots

This lab was deeper under the earth than the last. The damp smell of soil pervaded here along with the lighter scent of flowers and death that lingered. Over the years, the stairs had sunk in the center from so many boots eroding the stone. Hands had rubbed the bronze door handle down to a tainted gold with the same kind of wear. She questioned how old this manor actually was and if the facility below hadn't been here before the home. This lab was larger, held much more equipment, and someone had appeared to maintain it. The counters were clean, and the beakers packed on shelves. A shiver ran down Ada's spine. The space felt uncanny as though at any moment someone in a lab coat would walk in to begin a new experiment.

The cabinetry glass reflected Ada's face back to her. She leaned in to inspect herself. Her eyes were bloodshot from the cough, and dry blood smeared across her lips. Some had clung to her chin and over her throat. There was no point in wiping it away with her unclean hands. But what startled her the most was the veins that laced over her skin. She shifted her dress to see how they reached up from her chest toward her throat like roots. It reminded her so much of the outbreak in Spain that she immediately covered herself again. How many nights had she awoke with damp skin from nightmares of parasites crawling inside her? She took a shaking, uneasy breath. There was no time to dwell.

With great caution, she moved through the room in search of the holding cells that she'd read about in the journal. A number of metal doors lined the back wall of the lab. Someone had left one of them wide open as if to invite her in. This one was different from the other simple empty holding cells. She squinted into the dark cave passage before she breached the threshold. The butterflies that had swarmed her upstairs hadn’t followed her on her mission.

The damp smell intensified as she went. Pick axe marks marred the stone walls from the initial excavation, again she wondered from how long ago. When the tunnel opened up into a spacious cavern, she stopped. Her eyes first drew to the root system that winded down the sides of the stone walls. She knew she was under the great tree she had seen. A slant of light peaked through the cracks between the roots where butterflies mingled.

The light came down to illuminate Eleanor's peaceful form. Ada hadn't thought about what her body would look like; possibly she didn't want to. Her small figure rested on top of a stone altar. She lay like a slumbering princess in a fairy tale with her hands folded neatly at her stomach. A system of stems, vines, and a variety of flora burst from her chest. They reached up and fused with the tree’s roots above. The blooms were stunning, wide and pointed toward the tiny source of light. Their petals lay around the woman's hair like a crown and scattered over the stone floor. A crimson spider lily bloomed from between her lips.

Ada stepped forward and placed her hand against Eleanor's. Her skin was icy to the touch, but still her chest rose and fell with ghostly breath. She felt a presence in the chamber and moved her hand slowly to her holster.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Dr. Ashbourne said behind her. Ada drew her gun on the man who had started it all. Unlike the photos she'd seen in the files, he appeared disheveled. His hair was wild with streaks of silver, and skin gaunt and pale. "My sleeping angel." His expression softened as he gazed over his wife. Ada didn't dare move but kept her weapon trained on his chest.

"I should have gone in search of it instead of her. She is much too fragile, too feminine for such a voyage." His face hardened, anger created creases over his haggard face. "But she didn't listen to me. I should have forced her. I should have been a man and kept my wife at home." He moved closer to Eleanor, appearing to ignore Ada entirely. He swept his palm over her golden hair and leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

"When you bloom, Eleanor, you will awaken," he whispered. Ada's skin crawled.

"What about what she wants?" She couldn't hold back the accusation in her words. Dr. Ashbourne leaned back to admire his wife's lifeless body.

"Why, she loves me. You would know all about that, consumed as you are," he said.

"You never had her consent. You used her body for an experiment."

"I LOVE HER!" He bellowed and balled up his fist in Eleanor's hair. "I would move hell and earth for my woman. I would tear down the heavens if I could. What would you do for the one you loved? Or are you as lethal, as selfish, as cold as they claim you are, Ada Wong?" Dr. Ashbourne's smile spread over his face, eyes glistened with malice. "Yes, I know who you are. I know why you've come. But it is too late. You can’t have the seed within my Eleanor." Ada took a step back but had her gun pointed toward him.

"It's not what she wants," Ada said.

"How would you know what she wants?! You are nothing but a beast and a killer, Ada Wong!" He spit the words with such distain. "Not fit for love!" Her chest tightened with these words. It was something she'd heard enough inside her own head. "Unworthy of the gift given to you! Unlovable indeed!" Dr. Ashbourne laughed in such a way that reminded Ada of every man she'd ever worked with. That cruelty they wore like a coat. Men like these doomed the world. "You'll die like the rest of them. Unrequited."

"Like you?" she asked. He stilled, teeth bared.

"What?"

"She doesn't love you anymore. That's why she won't bloom. She's resisting, isn't she?"

"You don't know what you're talking about." Even though his face masked his intentions, his voice cracked with fear.

"What you've done to her is unforgivable. She's begged me to stop you."

"When she blooms," Dr. Ashbourne said, unclenched his fist, and smoothed Eleanor's hair. "Everyone will know true love. Everyone will bloom."

"You're a fool, Sebastian," Ada said and shot the man in the chest. She'd heard enough. His body reeled forward over Eleanor. When he moved away, he'd left his blood across her porcelain pale face. With renewed vigor, he roared and launched himself at Ada. She stepped back again and shot him two more times before the gun clicked empty. With a low curse she put away her gun and went for her knife. She began to back away toward the stairs.

The dying man moved quickly. He managed to clamp his hands around her throat. The pressure on her neck was so tight that she thought he would crush her. She pulled back her knife and stabbed the doctor in the back. Unphased, he continued to squeeze. A vignette formed around her vision. The fever had kicked up to swirl colors and patterns over his face. She hated that he would be the last thing she saw if she didn't do something. With the remainder of her strength, she pushed the knife deeper but found herself too weak to do much else.

It pained her that she couldn't fight in her final moments. She couldn't even see Leon one last time. She thought it was for the best as her body attempted to suck in breaths that wouldn't come. Her chest burned from lack of air. As her body went limp, the roots inside her moved like butterflies, fluttering around her chest for a way out.

As quickly as the pressure began, it disappeared. A strong kick to his side sent the doctor across the room. He grunted as his back hit the stone wall, driving the knife through him. Blood oozed from between his lips. Leon stood above Ada, chest heaving as if he'd run there. He clenched his fists at his side as he stood between her and Dr. Ashbourne. He glared down at the doctor, who smiled up at Leon, blood staining his teeth.

Ada swallowed air as if she'd emerged from underwater. She held a hand to her tender neck as she coughed. The pain made her wince. Not only had the man strangled her, but the blooms were now coming out of her mouth in clusters. They rained down onto the stone floor next to her other hand. Blood dripped and covered them like before.

She heard her name whispered to her as Leon touched her shoulder. But it was his own cough that made her head snap up. She pressed her hand over her mouth to keep more blooms from spilling out. Sure enough, his eyes were red from choking, his neck already showed signs of roots that ran along his veins. He lifted his hands from her as if he'd touched fire.

"Can you stand?" he asked and backed away. Ada rose to her feet and struggled to stay upright. "We have to get out of here," he said before he coughed again.

"Not yet." Her voice came out so soft that she wasn't sure he'd heard her. Eleanor's body rested peacefully in front of them, but Ada knew her ghost could not. She moved toward the doctor and tilted his body forward to take the knife from his back. With it in her grasp, she moved toward Eleanor.

"What are you doing?" Leon asked between coughs.

"What should have been done a long time ago," she said. Like she'd always been there, Eleanor's spirit stood above herself, staring down at the spider lily in her corpse's mouth.

"Destroy the seed," she said. Tears glistened down her spectral face. Ada lifted the knife and plunged it down into the body's chest. Over and over, she hacked away at the stems and flowers there. She lost herself in the rage she felt. Didn't even notice she'd been yelling with each thrust until her throat burned. The frustration with her own heart, the anger toward the way the doctor echoed every thought she had, and the suffering these men put innocents through exploded from her like the rotted curse in her chest.

When the seed was visible, pulsing inside the chest cavity, Ada drove the blade deep. Eleanor was beside her, so close that Ada thought she could almost smell her perfume.

"You’re allowed to feel, sweet butterfly. Let it show," she whispered. Her hand came up to cradle Ada's cheek before she leaned in to kiss her forehead the way the doctor had done to her corpse. "Thank you." When Eleanor disappeared, Leon began to cough so violently it brought him to his knees.

Something wasn't right. That should have done it. That should have ended it. Ada had spoken to Eleanor through their connection to the ancient seed. Now that she destroyed it, why were her and Leon still infected? The doctor lay limp against the wall in a puddle of his own blood. His laughter started softly but came out louder as each moment passed.

"I modified the cloned seeds. They do not answer to hers," he gurgled. "You're doomed." His breath ceased, and his eyes glassed over in death. A smile still etched over his face.

Let It Show

Leon cursed and held his hand over his mouth to stifle a cough. Blood trailed down his wrist. Ada stood frozen to the spot with her bloodied knife still clutched in her hand. Over and over in her mind she repeated how wrong this was. Not only was she doomed to die, smothered by the flowers she felt rise in her throat, but now Leon would succumb to the same fate.

"Leave," she said.

"What?" Leon stumbled to his feet.

"Just go." She balled her hand into a fist and placed it against her forehead and screwed her eyes shut. This was all wrong. "Find the master bedroom. There will be documents inside. You can reverse it," she said. "Leave. Go." She felt his presence before she heard him speak.

"Ada." Her name was a plea from his husky voice. She'd already said too much. He wasn't going to listen to her. Before she could argue with him, sounds of wheezing and moaning came from the tunnel in which they'd come.

"You don't happen to know another way out of here?" Leon asked. The only exit was the tunnel and the tree roots above. With the circular carved out chamber, there was no making it up to the surface from the tiny slat of light. Ada got into position with her knife held up to fight them off. Leon took her lead and held up his weapon and began to shoot through the wall of corpses.

Even though they moved independently from Eleanor's seed, the bloomed corpses were weaker than the ones she’d fought upstairs. Ada ducked beneath one who had stretched its arms out toward her and swiped her leg beneath it, knocking it over. Without hesitation, she plunged her knife into its chest. It gave a great sigh as if she'd let the air out of its lungs and went limp. Already the body started the disintegration process.

Leon's shots rang out beside her as more bloomed corpses fell to the ground. She moved to the next one and brought it down in a similar way to the last. For the first time, she found hope that they'd at least make it out of the chamber. She turned to Leon, who shot at a bloomed in front of him, and found another sneaking up behind him. She attempted to call out to him, but the shots he fired drowned out her soft voice.

Ada pulled out her grapple, aimed it at the ceiling and used the tension to push herself off the ground and sail toward the corpse. Her boots collided with it and sent them to the ground. She unhooked her shot and drove her knife deep into its chest.

"Thanks for that," Leon said without looking away from his next target. When the room went still, floor covered in flowers and blood, he holstered his gun.

"You know I can't leave you here." He stood between her and the opening of the tunnel. "I know there's a way—"

"Don't." Ada pushed against him to move him out of her way. Without looking back, she followed the stairs back up. She felt her chest constrict. The familiar wheezing was loud in her ears as she breathed. It was over for her and there was nothing she could do. This infection would take her over before she ever had a chance to remove it. She’d run out of time.

She couldn’t get the doctor off her mind. Not only the words he said, but the way he acted. He justified everything with love, forced it on his wife, even when she didn’t want it. Even if Ada wanted to tell Leon how she felt, she’d be just like Sebastian. The pressure for Leon to tell her back, to lie, in order to save her wasn’t fair. And Leon would always try to save her; the same way she was doing now for him.

Ada walked through the desolate halls like a woman possessed. She stumbled into the entrance hall and held onto the wall to keep her upright. For the last time, she peered up at the massive portrait of Eleanor and then pushed through the front door.

The mist whipped around her feet in the late evening. Like a flower, she could feel the sun start its slow ascent. The morning would come; the world would turn whether she was on this earth or not. The tree was easy to find. She'd seen it through the windows many times already.

The tree's trunk was strong, and butterflies mingled around it. She found her thoughts in the stillness. Grief struck her like the knife she clutched in her hand. She felt the loss of the life she never had and never would.

Leon didn't have to touch her to make her heart beat quick and her breath catch. But she couldn't resist the fantasy of it. The caress Ada wished she could have without consequences, without the prying eyes of powerful people, the stain of her life seeping into every waking moment.

The sensation of shards of glass that dug into her throat came before the usual cough. The curse had gone on for so long, she forgot what her life was like without it. The stems twisted inside her throat. Her hand clutched her neck. Her blood trickled from the corner of her mouth and slid over the peaks and valleys of her fingers.

It was the blooms that instilled panic and spilled from her mouth. She held one of her hands out to catch a full blossom. The petals had curled up, saturated in her blood.

She had to focus on anything, everything, something else. She fixed her watering eyes on the sharp arch of the garden windows. The shimmering blue hue of the sun's slow ascent into the horizon played along the warped glass. From where she stood, her reflection was a misshapen twisted version of herself.

She leaned against the tall oak; nails gripped the cool bark. The mist settled in around her, obscuring the view of the rest of the god forsaken manor she'd clawed her way out of. She pressed her back against the tree and sank to the ground as she gasped for breath. It wouldn't be long now.

Ada watched the horizon like an hourglass, the sand filling up her lungs, pooling stems and petals from her chest.

If she sat quietly, gave into the tug from inside, she could feel the stems move like tiny arms reaching out of her mouth, begging her to say it, to tell him, to let it out. But love wasn't her thing, at least that's what she told herself. This curse was a reminder.

Love was only agony. Dr. Ashbourne was right about one thing; she wasn’t meant for it. It wasn't who she was, a person who someone would call their lover. The idea was absurd.

Ada lifted the knife in her hand. Did she have the stomach to take herself out, to end it before she became one of those bloomed corpses? The blade had lost its luster, covered in the blood of dead bodies. She dropped her hand beside her. In her exhaustion, she sat and watched the butterflies as they landed on and around her. When something fell at her feet, they scattered. She tilted her head to look at it. The small journal she'd left in the bedroom sat beside her boot.

"I had already read it before I found the cave," Leon said, his form cast a shadow over the grass at her feet. He'd followed her out there to the tree. That was fine. He'd just have to watch her die. "Eleanor showed me. I thought I was losing my mind." Ada closed her eyes and listened to the low timbre of his voice. Her fever made her quake; she couldn't stop her lips from quivering from the chills.

"I know what this is, Ada," he said. She moaned from the ache in her chest and wheezed with flowers in her throat. They were so close to emerging. "I have a hunch, and I came to see it through." Leon coughed as he spoke. Ada opened her eyes when he crossed the small distance between them. He sank to the ground in front of her.

"She said to let it show," he said. With the same gentleness he always carried within him, Leon cupped her face between his hands. Ada's sigh shook with pleasure. She couldn't help but lean into his touch. Everything felt overly sensitive, her body ready to set itself aflame. It cried out for him to touch her more. The curse heightened everything she’d already felt. His face softened as his eyes roamed her face. His cheeks flushed from his own curse.

"Okay," he answered as if she'd said something aloud. Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. They both groaned at the touch. She gripped his arms with the little strength she had. He drew her body into his so that she straddled his lap. Leon's skin was on fire, and his touch was like an anchor she held onto.

The wave of longing was strong enough to scare her. She wanted to push him away and tell him this was all wrong. He didn't have to do this for her. He had his own curse to deal with. He loved someone, yet he spent his time here to relieve her ache. Even as she thought it, Ada couldn't let Leon go. She wanted this enough to make her chest tight and her stomach flutter. She wanted him to hold her, this man that loved the world enough to show her that it was worth fighting for. And she wanted that hope, even if it was foolish.

Ada tangled her fingers into his golden hair and moved his lips open to taste him. She felt his pleasure in the rumble of his chest and how pliant he became in her arms. His hands moved over her back in a soothing rhythm. Even with the light copper taste of their blood in their mouths, she couldn't get enough. She pulled away and framed his face between her palms to keep him from following her lips. His eyes were hazy, and his flush had crept over his ears and down his neck. His disheveled look made her chest ache.

"I know what you're doing," Ada said with what little voice she had left. His eyes moved over her face, and his hands gripped her side as if to keep her there.

"What am I doing?" Leon asked like it was a casual question as if he had all the time in the world to hear her answer.

"You need to go before it's too late for you," she said. Sweet confusion came over his features, brows together in what felt like agony.

"Ada, this is where I need to be," he said. It was her turn to feel confused. She couldn't keep her expression trained to restrain her wonder from showing. Leon took her hands away from his face. The sun had risen enough for golden rays to shine over him. The leaves cast shadows over them like a screen away from the rest of the world. "I always was better at showing than telling," he said. The colors warped in her eyes; the butterflies flitted around them in what looked like a little dance. For a moment, Ada allowed herself to feel.

Leon touched her slowly and kissed her like she tasted sweet. He moved his lips to her jaw and down her neck. He left feather light kisses on her collar bone that reminded her of the butterflies’ tiny feet across her skin. His hands drew up her dress and stroked her hips with his thumbs. Surely, he heard it now, the way her heart pounded in her ears. They felt so tuned to each other as he slid the straps of her dress down her arms and she arched her breast into his hot mouth.

He groaned into her skin and moved his fingers lightly over her lower back. His hand settled there as she breathed him in. The world tilted as he moved his lips over the peaks of her breasts. Their eyes met and he slid his hand between them. His fingers moved over her clit concealed in lace.

Ada unraveled, came apart as he pushed the fabric aside so he could feel her heat. He whispered something unintelligible when he slipped his finger inside her and palmed her slick clit. She pressed her hand to her lips to keep herself from coughing. Instead, it was soft sounds that threatened to tumble out. His other hand gently took it away and held on. His thumb brushed her fist open and lightly stroked her palm the way he did her sex.

Without saying a word, Leon had blown away her disbelief. When he touched her deep inside, it felt the way it did when he opened her hand, gentle and asking. Leon didn't take from her, like most in her life had, he asked. When he added a second digit and pressed up into that sensitive place inside, she saw stars. She gripped his shoulder with her other hand, as if to plead with him. He watched her move, breathe, and her jaw slacken in climax.

He kissed her shoulder as her body settled, then slowly found her lips, and took his hand away. Ada felt desire blooming within her with his absence between her thighs. She rolled her hips against him. A slow smile spread over his face and quickly vanished when she unzipped his pants and felt his shaft beneath fabric. His eyes darkened as she stroked him, and his fingers dug into her hip.

Ada loved the way he reacted to her, felt control as she led this moment. She moved everything out of the way, so they were skin to skin. His face slackened as she took his shaft into her hand. Rapture was how she would describe the way they felt together. It occurred to her that he chose to be here with her, wanted her.

Ada understood what Leon had said earlier. This was where she needed to be. She sat up on her knees and pressed him against her sex. Longing, hunger burned over his fevered face. He whispered her name like a dream as she took him in, sank down until she sat against his hips. She savored the feel of him as he stretched her walls, stroked her so intimately.

They breathed together as she rolled her hips with her clit pressed against his lower belly. Leon held her and gazed up at her like a keepsake. She slid her hands beneath his shirt to feel the way his muscles worked beneath her and watched his face as the morning sun cascaded him in morning light. She could make out every beauty mark along his neck, and every light faded freckle on his cheeks from a forgotten childhood in the sun.

He gripped his lower lip between his teeth as she sped up to that perfect rhythm between them. Their breath was loud in her ears as he stroked her inside, their fit felt so deliciously tight. Soft encouragement past between them as she peaked. She felt the sky open up and swallow her in pleasure. Ada rode that wave as Leon fell apart beneath her. She watched the way his throat moved as he moaned, how his muscles bunched as he held her, and his face slackened as he sighed her name.

She rolled her hips lazily as she came down to earth. Leon leaned forward, pressed his forehead against her shoulder, and caught his breath. His hands ran up her sides as he did. She took comfort in their momentary embrace and viewed the world around them. The sun burned off the mist enough for her to make out the shimmering dark green grass. The butterflies had gone, leaving them alone beneath the massive tree.

Ada held onto his shoulders as he sat up. Their noses touched briefly before he tilted his head to kiss her slowly. She savored the feeling. She ran her hand along his cheek, and he smoothed out her hair. They sat quietly, listening to each other breathe. It was then she pulled away and began to cough. Leon held her steady as she covered her mouth. There was worry in his eyes as she moved off him and got on all fours near the tree trunk, choking on air.

She heard her name from him, felt his hands on her back, and then the seed came out of her mouth and into the grass. It was a shriveled thing with short brown roots. Relief flooded her, and she began to laugh.

"You alright?" Leon asked. Ada wanted to answer but instead listened to the way she breathed, relaxed and quiet. "Starting to worry me here." She sat back on her legs and took a deep breath. While her throat remained sore, it was better than the alternative, not breathing at all.

Leon's cough came next in the same way. She was thankful he hadn't gotten far into the infection. The feeling of stems and blooms rising in her body would stay with her forever. It hit her then that he had coughed up his seed by being intimate with her. Hadn't he told her earlier, this is where I need to be? The seed had rooted deep inside to a place where desire was more than physical.

He leaned back on his palms with his legs spread in front of him and tilted his head toward the sun. A sense of peace came over Ada then as she watched the daylight play over his blond hair. It appeared they really did feel the same, and she wasn’t sure what to do with that feeling.

"We can't stay out here," she said finally. He nodded in agreement. "What brought you to the manor?" she asked. Leon straightened and gave her that familiar thoughtful look. It was funny seeing it with his hair messy and face flushed.

"Dr. Ashbourne was working for the government. They suspected BOWs when they lost all contact with the estate and started to hear rumors."

"So, you came to check it out."

"Right, my job here is done." He took a long breath as if to savor the taste of air. "I know you don't plan to answer this, but where will you go?"

"I failed my job," she admitted. "I destroyed the seed."

"Didn't seem like you had a choice."

"We always have a choice."

"Maybe you're right," he said. They stood together and righted their clothes. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a comm. "I think this is yours." Ada took it from him and turned it on. It was the comm she'd left upstairs.

"Why were you on that side of the house?" she asked. He crossed his arms over his chest and peered back at the manor.

"To be honest, I was looking for you. After finding a ransacked lab with no sign of Dr. Ashbourne or his wife, I figured you'd know where to go. Seemed like you knew about the goings on here. Even if you didn't want to tell me, I'd have a better means to finding the doctor through you." He ran his hand through his hair then moved to his jaw where a shadow of stubble had begun to grow.

"I better go," she said. As much as she'd want to, they couldn't stick together. "You need to get back to D.C."

"I do." He eyed her thoughtfully. She nodded and walked back toward the entrance, where she knew a key to a fancy car hung on the wall by the door. A perfect exit for a terrible job.

"Hey," Leon called. She glanced at him from over her shoulder. "I marked something that might be useful to you on your map." She eyed the screen in her palm.

"Thank you, Leon." Ada wanted to say more than that but couldn't find it in herself. The smile on his face told her she didn't have to.

"What is it you always say? See you around?"

"See you around," she echoed softly.

The inside of Ashbourne Manor felt quieter than before. Maybe it felt that way because she knew there was no one left alive within or because she knew Leon wasn't there. Ada diligently followed the marker he'd left for her. It led to a room on the bottom floor that she'd missed. A freezer storeroom was off from the kitchen and servants’ quarters.

Inside held rows of specimens of all shapes and sizes. Someone had meticulously labeled each one. She found the seeds in an open briefcase at the back. The winding lettering on the labels told her Eleanor had been behind these. Ada lifted one of the samples to make sure it was what she had searched for. A seed, like the one she'd seen in Eleanor's chest, nestled inside a sample bag.

She closed the briefcase and toted it with her all the way to the closed garage. The key she'd found slipped nicely into the black sports car. She tossed the case into the passenger's seat and opened the glove box. As she suspected, a pair of dark tinted sunglasses waited for her. She tipped them onto the bridge of her nose.

The sun warmed her skin and the radio played quietly in the background as she drove away from the manor. Ada eyed the case and decided what she wanted to do with the samples. The label on one of them read, dud do not use. The rest she could toss into the ocean for all she cared. No one needed access to these. She was sure the US government would pick the estate clean. The least she could do was keep these away from them too. It dawned on her that Leon knew that was what she'd do, or maybe he just had that last shred of trust in her to give her the samples.

Ada hummed all the way back to the hotel. She would dream that night about flowers and ghosts. She'd dream about a love worth living for.