Resident Evil 1. Once Again

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**Chapter 1: Once Again**

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Colonel Eden Throne watched every single movement in the blonde that continued past him. Upon his excellent memory, an unidentified individual in army territory was to be deemed an "alien of the base". Once sighted, they were to be ultimately surveyed from the spot before or until any affirmative action were to take place. Like a new found prime law of religion, the rule was so deeply drilled into the committee members heads, his men were still following his gaze despite being ordered to remain completely still and in lined position.

They couldn't help it. They all looked at the stranger with a hundred thoughts spiraling in each of their minds and through the silent spotlight the interloper still hadn't noticed the attention on him or even where they looked. At most, twenty one pairs of eyes led a direct line to the squads' post target, a much more vague term for an execution stand. Every one of them continued to watch ahead, yet only Blondie was under a spell by the three wooden poles, he stared particularly at the one in the center that was occupied.

Eden's jaw tightened, empathy grew on his frown as he reluctantly followed all other eyes to the middle post. He began to twinge his eye lids closer for a better view but eased them open with a sigh. Arguably, it was a sad affair in the eyes of humanity but justice could never go undone in this case. Far over and tied down, that blindfolded criminal dressed in tattered clothes and bandages, was to die promptly at noon for a good reason.

--That's when precisely after, Blondie stepped in front of the squad and cleared his throat over the dry and dead summer heat--

Or so he thought.

"All of you." Blondie began to address. Eden nearly twisted his shoulder bone when he spun to face him, suddenly wary. Questions spurred in his head but didn't know where to begin at the mouth. "Drop your weapons, now." Blondie declared. "I have my orders." He added.

Thick clunks of metal in the sand surrounded them. Eden grunted, uncouthly but weak. He didn't plan on hearing that so soon.

"W...Wait." He gritted his teeth. The straw was drawn and all he could get out was a simple _wait_? "Just wait a damn minute." Eden awkwardly hissed. "You have orders from…?"

"Why, from the chief, colonel." The smug blonde replied, not even baring a glance his way.

Eden swallowed slow from the lack of fresh air. Rules and regulations, regardless of their high meaning and value...he felt a strange pint of uneasiness. After all the meetings, the debates and the brewing controversies that plagued his camp, he was certain this was not how it would turn out. _"And suddenly. right before I announce my men to let loose their rounds, a man, clad in a black coat and pants strides out from the quietest corner of the desert. He gives the order to cease fire and dismiss the operation and we had no choice but to obey. Yes, my very first mission as colonel...ended as quickly as it started."_

_What utter bullshit!_

Eden snapped on the inside and bit his tongue. He knew this operation had been planned months prior and now they were just going to pull the plug by a anonymous suit he'd never seen before that was sent by the "chief"!?--And for what kind of reason was this happening anyway, was this some kind of sick joke? It had to be a joke. Or esle, he'd _love_ to hear whats to come later from his peers--better yet his superiors once they find out. What would they think? ...What would they say? Oh boy could he guess...

But then slowly--and by that it took at least a ful minutes time--Eden pushed back a groan in the back of his throat and dismissed his doubt for the time being. Crazy interferences and all he still had to think rationally. The Federal Bureau of Investigation did exist and it wasn't a lie nor a fairy tale, which, made all the more sense why they were not common to the human eye. Eden also had to remember that_ this_ _guy was _one of the FBI, right now, standing less than a foot away from him, waiting for his to answer.

He looked at the agent again, his mind a little more open this time. The mans' coat was heavily dark just as the rest of his clothes but a glimmer from the sun allowed Eden to get a look at his eyes. They were a deep hue of brown and beneath that was what looked like a mix of lazy muse and fair reason. The rest of his face was vague but Eden wouldn't argue that calm demeanor he held.

From what he gathered from his superiors, it was people like Blondie that never cut to the chase and preferred long draw out explanations instead. The young colonel sighed. It boggled his mind why such a top notch secret organization would follow those types of rules.

In the end, he decided to give up and play along for the sake of any answers he could possibly get.

"So.." Eden begun, uncertain for a moment where to continue from there. "You...you mean the head chief..."the agent finally rolled his head to him and he quickly added on. "--You're his agent right?"

Blondie grinned and Eden had never been proven so wrong the minute he began to speak.

"The president himself sir and yes, I do happen to work for the government." In a swift motion from underneath his coat, he supplied a lengthy document signed with all the appropriate names. The header of the page read _"Grant for Pardoning" _and Eden couldn't resist a double take as he read all the velvet coated titles and text._  
_

So this really was happening after all…

First, he put a hand to his forehead, pretending he was wiping sweat when he really was hiding his laughing face, then, he shook his head dramatically. He just couldn't believe it. Of all the dumb, stupid, rotten and unfortunate luck..

Eden turned on his heel and away to his men."Just what is this, dirty work...!?" He proclaimed in a slightly low voice.

Behind, the agent frowned as he watched the colonels back retreat. It didn't matter how many badges or ribbons a man had on his chest, point was, the military knew nothing and wasn't in the position to know any more than they pried. Watching the young army leader wave a hand and dismiss his men, watching all of their young yet arrogant faces as they passed him by and then left toward the barrack tenants in the back--

--It drew him back, made him think just how vulnerable he was and how much rookie cop, Leon S. Kennedy could relate six years back.

But all he could do now, however, was muster the best smile and keep it right. It was unethical and uncalled for but by some weird mix of emotion he felt the need to explain himself more than just that, even if it wasn't going to help him.

"Let's keep it simple," Leon proposed from afar and stepped closer. "I'll promise to tell you as much as I can... but with only one question." He whispered.

Eden turned away from the camps and faced him, slightly less uncomfortable, the look on his face gave the impression that he thought their conversation was over. Hesitantly he crossed his arms but eventually let them fall to his sides. This certainly was a change.

"I uh...I only have one question."

"Well that's a relief." Leon seemed visibly relaxed as he flexed his shoulders in and out.

Eden raised an eyebrow at the other mans' suddenly expressible attitude. "It _is?_" He asked doubtfully.

Leon finished stretching and looked in the same direction."Yes really." The government agent nodded. "For once, I'm not playing twenty questions."

Slightly annoyed Eden ignored whatever facade or airs this guy was putting on or putting him on. He looked him square in the eye for a moment and leaned his bald head over to the execution post where the prisoner still lay bound liked a stalk.

"But why him?"

"…I can't say, really. He's a survivor and we've been searching for him."

Eden blinked awkwardly. "A survivor? And by that you mean…"

"Ah, ah. One question, remember?"

"…It's not much of an answer for what you promised." Eden muttered back.

"Sorry, but I'm afraid that's all I can answer." Leon rehearsed a too well known line and felt a soft jab for talking like that to a slightly jaded reflection of himself .The young colonel gave him the very last quizzical look and he shrugged innocently. "It's policy, what can you do."

His expression slowly eased and their one sided stare down had officially ended. With slight regard, Eden turned on his heel and walked away before nodding him off.

Leon watched him leave, the unusual bald head of the young rook had gleamed a small gleam of light until he reached proper shade.

"Really...it's the truth." He found himself still staring afterwords for a short while, almost forgetting what it felt like to have no idea whats going on in the world outside and just living for the sake of life. It was a glorious day dream but as soon as impossible joys started to influence vivacious scenes in his mind, he hastily denied them all with a slow shake of his head.

Running over his objective in his head once, and then twice to keep him anchored, Leon ventured over to the trio of posts. His picture of the prisoner became all the more clear as he quickened his pace. Once he was in distance he withdrew a short knife from under his right sleeve and surmised a quick pattern before lifting his arm back.

With three swipes, Leon slashed the ropes on each side and the man fell fast to his knees with a thick thud in the uneven dirt. Leon watched him struggle on his arms, barely getting a chance to help the tattered man as the man in rags suddenly lunged himself to his knees and teared off his blinded bandanna with a loud groan of frustration. Startled in the elbows, Leon stepped back, his knife unexpectedly ready but put it aside as he watched the man struggle and breathe with slight difficulty.

Before he could step back and give proper aid like he intended, the prisoner heaved his head up at him, stunning Leon again. He stared at him through his cold blue eyes and finally spoke.

"..Know how much I want to throttle your damn neck?" The lack of hydration was evident in his rasping voice.

"Excuse me?" Leon inquired. He was briefly taken aback by a harsh coughing fit that followed. He knew that from the state of his clothes...

"…A lot" he chocked out.

"I'm a afraid I--"

Leon was caught off guard immediately as the man clutched the collar of his shirt and dragged him down, face to face. He looked straight into the convict's eyes. They certainly hadn't lost their gaze; the _lovely_ pair of icy blue daggers_._

"You…You damn prick…!" He spat, and without warning, threw his head down and began coughing again, it was deep and harsh, possibly an infection that was boiling in his throat from lack of nutrition. Leon frowned.

"Now wait a minute…" The agent reasoned, but in a few, the convict had his eyes back up at him again, glaring with hatred all the more.

"I was _planning _on dieing for your information--What the _hell _do you want from me!?"

_Well he's a nice one._ Leon warily removed himself from his grasp, thankful the man was too tired to keep a grip.

"...Santos. Rodriguez Santos, right? I'm special agent Leon Kennedy. I've been sent to escort you to the Caribbean under orders from the government." He waited for some kind of response but there was none. "There's something we're not sure of and we need you to confirm it."

"Confirm what?" Billy snapped. His back was turned to him as he stretched his arms and legs. Leon seemed almost reluctant to ask him.

"…Are you familiar with Umbrella?"

Billy hesitated for a moment, a slight twitch in his shoulder. He looked up, then at Leon and then, as if it were nothing, he continued stretching again.

"And if I am?"

_Good enough._ Leon thought irritably before continuing.

"We need information from you regarding something."He could see the con scowl a row of teeth. His entire body was probably burning with pain from both the narcotics and then doubled by the heat of the sun. He felt a little touch of sympathy for pressing a question on someone who was near being delusional but such were the objectives of his mission.

Billy sighed shakily and rubbed his eyes. Leon smirked ironically. What a day this was turning out to be for the both of them.

"Can't you just tell me now?" He asked with irritation. Leon shook his head.

"Nope. Can't trust anybody these days..." The agent said, trying a small smile. He looked around the empty camp and then back at Billy who had one hand over his eyes in a small effort to block the sun. "Not even the military." Leon added.

"Pfft." Billy would have said more if he had just a little more air in him. Why, ex lieutenant Coen would have told him the story of a life time but judging from what happened in the past twenty minutes the guy had to have had some sort of idea on what he'd been through...maybe.

Feeling some strength, the freed man sat up in the dirt and gave Leon a once over. Blondie simply raised his eyebrow.

"Uh?"

Billy frowned slightly but didn't make any comment back, or at least he didn't look liked he wasn't going to say anything for the time being. His expression was something Leon wasn't too fond of as a small skeptical grin weaved it's way.

"Yeah." Billy mused as if he was reasoning with his conscious. Which, he was. "You're definitely a corporate kind of guy." He said.

Leon's smile wavered as he helped his new ally to his feet.

"You have_ no_ idea."

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**END.**

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It's such an interesting combination I just had to try it out! Ah, anyway, I hoped this turned out good because I really can't tell...(Been reading it over so many times.) Originally, I had planned this on being just a one-shot, but I decided to expand it further now that I have some interesting ideas... But first I'd like some feedback please, so tell me what you think!

Oh, and this is my first stab at RE fiction, so please keep that in mind while reviewing!

PS: I'll try to keep the OC amount low but don't worry, they won't be a major focus on the story. (Sorry Eden...I actually liked you.)

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	2. Trust

**Chapter 2:** **Trust**

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The heat poured onto him, his bruised shoulders and elbows feeling the absolute worst of it. His stomach growled for the third time, a lack of nutrition that was leaving an uncomfortable rumble in his gut. He hadn't eaten nor slept in a long time and…and now, all these little things that death was suppose to cover were spiraling back at him.

_Modesty be damned_. Billy thought wryly. He placed both hands over the neckline of his civic shirt and ripped the fabric down the center with satisfying ease. Relief was instant but short lived. The forty seconds counted down quick, and it was in no less than a minute that the sun had roamed completely over his exposed chest.

Feeling halfway the same as he did before--with the exception of looking less decent--honestly, he didn't care about the stares once he got to…wherever he was headed.

_Right. Destination._ With that, the agent immediately came to mind. Billy looked ahead at the man far ahead of him, his steps small yet quick. He studied him from an angle, all the while his mind idly contemplating why the hell he was still alive. ...Another execution route? Hardly, but it was still debatable. His impending death in the eyes of the military was equivalent to the end of a civil war. Billy couldn't help but feel a hard sore in his heart as he made the sickening comparison. His head ached, fueled with anger that could prompt no action from his weak body, rendering him all the more pissed. Betrayal was, for lack of a better word, unbearable.

He thought back to the agent and barely realized that his eyes were still burning into the back of his suit. No pun intended.

--The agent--Wonderboy, was no less then six feet ahead of him, still trooping on like he had a line to guide him though the desert. There were other things among _'Wonderboy'_ Billy would have liked to say to him, but in truth, he was just that. So for the sake of his blundering headache, the heat, and filling in more blank spaces than an empty peg board, he scratched the pile of nicknames and decided to call him Leon.

_Leon_ lingered ahead of him. The so called savior hadn't spoken since their first encounter, which, may have been at some lengths negotiable except Billy wasn't ready to grovel on his knees. Sure, the guy may have spared his life with his bag of government bribes and tricks but in truth, just as he spoke to him when they first met, he did not care anymore if his life went towards a bitter end.

Besides, it was Santos Rodriguez that was being executed. Not Billy Coen.

_Yeah, that's right._ Billy closed his eyes for a moment and his mind reasoned, softening slightly as he thought of the long and hard process he had underwent to die under another name. Not to mention the reason he had done so..

"Once we reach the jeep I'll fill you in."

The loud volume of Leons' voice brought him around some and Billy rubbed his eyes blearily. Sand picked up from the winds and the con swallowed an obnoxious comment as a handful breezed past his eyes. In the end, he decided to save his remarks for a better time in the shade.

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No, I'm not talking about that!"

A rising amount of satisfaction doubled in her head the minute she cut into the conversation, and it was about time too_. _If she had to hear any more of that analysis crap again she'd flip, but that wasn't to say she already had. At some point in the heat, the young woman had launched herself straight from her seat and was now standing tall, hands on her hips in a rather intimidating position towards the doctor.

A good-natured, tolerant doctor, no less.

Blushing, Claire Redfield; who barely could contain the proper attitude for her own age, scooted back to her seat, silently wishing the pins and needles in her arms would quit. It was bad enough she had a temper so why did her body have to react so much to it? She was partially convinced it was because of anxiety. 'Thousands of miles away from Racoon City was the first step to a good breakaway and she'd no doubt had admired Chris for making the decision. But now, sitting in a psychiatrist's office and suddenly expected to spill what she'd wasted half a year trying to get out to the public...? Second thoughts on her brother were becoming likely.

A slow wave of realization passed over her and the young brunette frowned. (How could she be so blind? Her own brother no less!) This was planned; Chris probably had a rough idea in his head the moment they reached safety from Rockford island. This whole "breakaway trip" that was supposed to be permanent and for the benefit of them both--like he had oh so promised--was in clear cold reality, a way to keep her out.

Claire sat up in her chair, more uneasy and now in a rush to boot. A slight violent urge to leave the room was uprising in her conscious. Glancing around quickly but carefully-- more towards the door than anything else--her mind racked for something to say but she failed. The room was too disgustingly quiet to think let alone break the silence. Nothing but the wiry ticking of an ugly yellow clock filled in the silence.

--_Quiet like the long hallways of the Police Depart-_-No. She did not want to be here. She had to go. Now.

She was leaning her elbows on her knees to sit up when a soft reserved clearing of the throat came from the other side. With a halfhearted stare, Claire wondered if their previous subject would be dropped.

The 'new topic' was any less inviting than the first.

"He sounds like a nice man. You're brother."

"…Hah."

Thirty minutes following and Claire emerged from a tall brick building entrance, looking a hundred times more uptight than when she first arrived. She pulled her jacket around her with a tight grip and headed to the stoop. Cars sped by the narrow streets as she made her way down and her bangs waggled above her forehead with each step she took. She stopped for a bit to admire the sky.

The weather had gotten cold and windy; a clear sign that winter was approaching.

On the last step, Claire looked ahead of her, and was not entirely surprised to see a large red four wheel drive parked as closest to the building entrance as possible. She crossed her arms and leaning on one foot she glared at the driver who opened the car door.

_Typical over protective brother._

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When he got in the jeep, the first thing Billy noticed was the severe lack of space. For once, he carefully watched where he took a step as he maneuvered or more like crisscrossed his way past three long bumpers and an endless amount of cargo. The labeled boxes and crates all over were obviously of high value and he, despite how clouded his state of mind was, was careful not to be an ass and lazily knock over the secrets of Fort Knox's--for all he knew--in an open vehicle.

He came to a quick stop when he realized everything was piling up like a mountain as he went. Fortunately, he could see a spot of cleared carpet behind all the endless shit.

Sighing, he put his strained muscles to use and hefted himself over the load, He leaned one leg up, then the other, and hopped over in one move. The jeep wobbled slightly as he landed in the small amount of space provided.

Billy looked around a bit before sitting down in the tiny hole he was stuck in. The distance to the driver's seat could rival from the back of a limo.

"Comfy back there?"

The cons jaw set the thin line of a dull smile. He assumed the heavy mop of dirty blonde hair from afar was Leon. His guess was instantly confirmed when the driver threw back the mirror, reflecting his--if not puckish--then careless grin. Billy gave him a weak grunt in response.

"Dunno. If this is government shit like you said then I would have expected the red carpet treatment."

Leon smirked as he hit the gas, and not like the agent had planned, the thing took its damned time to start. The engine wheezed, puffed and shook, sending the two left and right with slight jerks of its metal body. Leon's smile, lost in the last ten seconds was now replaced with a gritting scowl as he groaned and thrust the keys into the makeshift, digging the metal pick into the system with muffled curses.

Billy couldn't help but chuckle at the piece of shit they were driving in. His thoughts were _fully _confirmed.

"Government my ass."

Leon was just about to add something when the engine roared with afire and the jeep sped off into the dirt like it was shot out of a cannon. Winded, the agent quickly fumbled for the wheel and took control. Through the maddening struggle, the wind blowing in his face and the hot sun glaring against the head mirror, he could hear Billy shouting something, something most likely offensive. Leon chanced a glance over his shoulder and saw him lying partially on his back, arms and legs sprawled all over disordered boxes. He would have noticed the icy glare in his direction but was too distracted by the open mess that lay around him.

Leon groaned. There was going to be a long lecture after this.

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"And you? Coffee or tea with your meal..?"

The handsome brunette turned up from his drink and shifted towards the waitress. He handed her two menus with a generous smile.

"Neither. Thanks Cindy."

"My pleasure Chris." She answered sweetly, and in seconds she was gone and already serving another party.

Chris Redfield watched the young blonde scoot between tables with an awkward stride. His eyes narrowed slightly in concentration. He had been a frequent vaster at Avenue Queue and the first time he saw her walk that way he simply shrugged and passed it off as just another hangover from just another young teenager on the working job. But seeing it three weeks in a row...was she injured or just _that _reckless?

"ACL."

"What?"

"Anterior Cruciate Ligament," The younger brunette muttered the explanation. Chris leaned over his shoulder and smugly replied with an "uh huh" and Claire snorted bluntly, but continued. "She has a knee fracture on her right leg," Her mouth was in a childish pout as she sipped from the straw of her drink but the tone in her voice was serious…and he wondered why.

The older sibling leaned on his elbows, mildly amused for the moment.

"Says what, Doctor Redfield?"

Claire scowled at her brother's still smug face and sipped loudly from her iced coffee, ignoring the bitter coldness as it stung her teeth when she replied.

"Just a tidbit I learned from Rebecca." She cleared her voice loudly, fist raised when Chris hastily waved her down with a flick of his wrist, weary her sister was going to spill info that might lose someone a job. It was Claire's turn to smile smugly as she explained the details in a voice just above a whisper. "...Symptoms include bruises --which, she has a few on the back of her knee… "

"So I see... Good work doctor." Chris leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Was she beyond wrong? If Rebecca had been there with them she would have been the very first to notice. His grin grew as he compared Claire to the realm of science. Their family line was athletic and nothing of the smarts. If she was right then he'd eat his hat.

"Stop it Chris you look like an idiot." Claire scolded and then reluctantly broke into a shy smile. "No wait. Never mind. It can't be helped I guess..."

"Ooh harsh." Chris said and whistled absentmindedly as he dropped a straw impishly into his glass of water and began to stir it. Claire immediately released her smile and glared at her brother.

"Chris…"

"How was your visit?"

She watched him for a moment and dropped her gaze, a little less tense.

"Good." Her voice was dry as she removed the straw from the older brunettes' drink, wincing at the heat that ran up her skin. "I found out something interesting."

"Shouldn't that be Mellissa's' job?" The young brunette titled her head at the wry observation.

"Well see, she's a little slow…"

"Claire--"

"Where are you going every night, Chris? Are you really down at the construction site working on that complex building?"

"Of course." He managed through barely gritted teeth.

"Liar." She whispered with slight annoyance, she watched her brother sigh exasperatedly before looking out the window to his left.

"Quit staring." Claire shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She cornered him easily but it took eight months in the making. The pressure he must have gone through alone… Maintaining composure was becoming an issue and she began to think they should have switched places the first time they arrived in Europe. There was no such thing as success under a one man army, only a leading and slow suicide.

"Chris I…"

"No I should have told you. I was wrong."

"Chris if you've been going on it alone…"

"Alone?" The older Redfield choked down a chuckle and Claire felt a bit disturbed at the sudden change of mood as her brother broke into a quiet fit of laughter. "What? Are you crazy, Claire?" He asked breathlessly. "That's suicide; you know I'm out of that reckless phase..."

"Yeah, and I'm still in it."

Chris chuckled deeply and Claire slowly joined him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cindy enter from the kitchen, two steaming hot plates in her hands with a small smile. She scooted past the other clerks and busboys and reached their table with a hearty hello.

"No kidding." He said quickly to his sister and smiled as Cindy placed their breakfast on the table. He saw Claire glance up from her coffee and share the same grin. The blonde waitress smiled sweetly in return, let them know she was running their check and sped off before neither of them gained a steady breath to ask her about her knee. Claire blinked before setting a look at her meal and Chris watched her as he stabbed a piece of egg from his plate, but couldn't bring himself to eat.

His sister... She was so young, lively, and pretty. He wished she could be off in another country now, studying safely in another college, far away from the organization he worked for that was just sixty miles from where they both sat… but the separation would be horrible to cope with and he knew she would never ever agree to it.

"Yeah..." He breathed. "No kidding."

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**END**

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**AN:** Okay. Beware the authors rant…

I got my act together and was able to come up with a few good ideas...it's just...putting them together. I know, what author doesn't have this sort of problem? xD Anyway, I bumped a bit of comedy (dry comedy) into this chapter. (Thought the situation could use a little light seeing as it isn't always going to be sunshine and rainbows from here on out.) I also should add that at the moment, there is going to be no...how should I say...no action in the story..? I feel that at the moment, I'm not that fluid in describing tense moments like "punch" "kick" "bang" "bang" between the RE cast and those nasty zombies... But alas, if any action were to start it would be in the much later chapters...So I guess, you can say I have plenty of time to practice.. xD (But action isn't my thing...romance is...and yes, there will be small doses of_ that_ later on. Hehe.)

Oh, the most important part! You guys. Pleease let me know what you think! You have no idea how many times I re-read this whole thing over and over and ugh, my head. DX

So please don't forget to review!

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	3. The Memories

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**Chapter 3: The Memories**

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One year ago, Chris Redfield was seated alone at the far right of the bench where the lights dimmed. Folding and unfolding his hands he let his eyesight adjust to the darkness. It certainly was true, the larger the room the more eerie the provided silence. The good ol' abandoned office look was what it really felt like when he glanced at the emptied desks and neatly polished podium in the center. Who would have thought that a bunch of men and men only could get down and organize…well truth be told that was impossible. The explanation behind the immaculate board room was because it was the only room out of eighty something that was kept tidy.

_Easy enough for eight hundred men to handle._ Chris thought with a wry smile.

He could see his hands and glanced deep into his open palms. The soft sweat could be barely seen by his naked eye and Chris Redfield hated how he perspired so easily through his hands of all places and by just sitting and waiting...but for what? No, he just needed some time to think...but what was he thinking about?

"Focus." He mumbled and leaned back. Perseverance was going to be ahead of his anxiety if he was going to plan let alone think straight.

He reached the butt of his weapon from his back pocket and pulled it out in one fine sweep. Running the fine metal to his lap, his brown eyes narrowed; the very same of a doting older brother and a professional shot. When he was done scanning it for grazes Chris seized the handle--a little eager to feel the grip--and--

--With very precise engagement he flipped it, loaded it, polished it, and aimed it; all in a cycle so quick that if he wasn't alone in the briefing room, he'd be the center of attention.

At last, after the third time around, Chris settled the standard pistol in both his hands. He smiled, steady satisfaction was what it read.

The image of his gun, prepped and shining under the faded lights, it made him feel admirable and no sooner he found himself fiddling with the handle as he trained it's gray nozzle straight ahead. Being prepared was something he tended to overlook in the past, often times they were the death of his prior career choices and literally with grim reality they were the death of his friends as well.

Steadily he loaded a full 15 gauge ammo clip inside and smacked it shut with swift, professional touch. --Not anymore. He wasn't walking into the arena with his eyes closed, he had a new pair that were although still carrying the same trust they were not completely jaded by the world. He was up for what ever came bouncing along. Not recklessly, okay, but maybe just a little if it was necessary… But, he wasn't going to run in head first unless...unless...

"Aw hell." He grabbed his own head and racked his fingers through his hair. He didn't know what the hell he was talking about; he just wanted to be ready, ready for anything when he knew fully well that wasn't possible to begin with. Umbrella was gone and a whole new face of evil was up to bat. It was Spencer mansion all over again, surprises at every corner. And he was dammed sick of it.

"God dammit" He swore softly. It never rained but it goddamn poured.

Head still looking down, shaking to and fro, Chris spotted the gun he had unknowingly dropped before his seat. He stretched his legs out and pocketed it back in possession with a small frown.

"Practicing?"

"Yeah." Chris answered in just the same sarcastic matter. He shrugged his shoulders back with small defiance still brooding in his veins as he set his gun down.

The newcomer strode himself to the head desk, which was wide enough to be considered a dining table. He stared out into the empty rows and eventually met Chris' gaze with open eyes.

Carlos leaned on his elbows. Chris finally under his eyes, he drummed his fingers across the wooden base.

"Well…there's a better shooting range down the hall if you ask me." He jerked his head left for emphasis and slowly rolled his head back to Chris.. "You know, the one that's filled with red targets and not computers an' screenings maps..?"

The handsome brunette chuckled, deprived from his melancholic musings. He slipped one hand to the side of his face and closed his eyes. He could use a drink.

"I wasn't going to shoot anything, Carlos." He paused for a moment to shake his head. "I was just polishing it."

"Suure you were." The always easily humored man acknowledged. His eyes lit up slightly at the weapon resting to his comrades' side. "Ah. You're abuelos' old time companion?"

Chris glanced at him tiredly but eventually smiled as he reached to hold the said piece.. He must have told Carlos the story at some point but he'd somehow forgotten. "Just a "friend" from an old friend if you catch my drift."

Carlos shrugged. "But old meaning old, no?" He nodded and Carlos shook his head, smiling, leaving Chris slightly perplexed. "Yeah...too old to be fighting here with us bad boys. It's a good thing you sent him home…friend."

Chris laughed at that, knowing how much the hired gun hated repeating words in a conversation.

"He was stubborn at first, but he eventually let it go. Cop or no cop a family man stays with his family, period."

He nearly jumped when the other man slapped his shoulder; cackling.

"Hoho! Speak for yourself, amigo. That sister of yours counts for at least ten little hermanas if not twenty."

"...She certainly is a mouthful." The brother agreed his tone completely serious.

"I'll say..." Carlos grinned and took his seat beside him. Chris replayed his words into a deeper meaning and the Hispanic man shifted a distance the second he saw Redfield's' eyes widen. "Chill man" he joked., "She's too young for me, besides, she doesn't even know I'm here!" He threw his arms out in a half shrug. "What could go possibly go wrong?"

Chris sighed and gathered his head in his hands again. "A lot of things...friend." Carlos frowned for more than the initial reason. "She'll find out soon enough, and when she does that's when I'm going to have to come to terms and do it."

The Hispanic clicked his tongue and quirked his eyes half shut. "Do what?" He asked.

It was a long painful sigh before Carlos saw the answer in Chris' tired eyes. He too couldn't help but share the same emotion. They both sat in silence for a moment. Each of them dawning over what was going to happen sooner or later.

"No way... You're serious?"

Chris nodded. "I am. I'm going to let her join."

"Like hell you are!" A not so clear feminine voice interrupted. The woman emerged from the supposedly empty office cubicle in the far right corner, a thick fist full of paper in one hand and a crumpled can in the other. She trudged up to the men, barefoot but her feet stomped loudly across the carpet to their unfortunate ears.

"What…" He was going to ask how long she'd been here but Carlos' habit of being the more outspoken had gotten in word first.

"Jill!? Your supposed to be--."

"That doesn't matter." She past him like a blow in the wind and stormed to Chris on wobbled feet. Angrily she tossed the empty can aside and stood face to face with her partner in crime. Chris looked at into her eyes and was breathless. Blue sapphire stones although, inebriated and hazy we're tanking him into a state of exposure.

He moved to embrace her, to possibly explain the meaning behind his words while he comforted her but she pushed him back and Carlos _jumped _back as he watched his friend nearly flip over the bench seat.

"You're crazy--do you want another accident!? Do you want it to happen _again_?!"

Chris rose from the floor, his eyes wide with anger.

"What do you mean accident? What happened? Nothing happened!" He protested.

"That's bull! I told you" She screamed back which she wouldn't have been had she not turned to drinking the moment she returned from her assignment.

Carlos approached the two on unsteady feet. He'd seen her angry but never vulnerable and hopelessly lost in rage She was always dead center on her mind and word. "Jill…" He managed above a whisper.

She turned to him and raised her fist, slightly ramming his shoulder. "We lost her, Carlos!" She drawled pathetically and the crumpled papers in her hand fell with ease. "We lost her because..."

"Lost who, chica?" His voice losing any power whatsoever.

Chris stepped to join the two. He grabbed Jill, effectively pulling her from the other man and to his face instead. His hands snaked around Jill's neck and he pulled her in close, so she was resting her forehead into his shoulder.

"Cuh--Chr—i--is?" Her voice was breaking into pieces.

"We didn't lose anyone." He whispered darkly, his words were hanging on an edge, he was truly scared. "Jill," he felt Carlos' hand on his shoulder and felt small energy build in him. He swallowed and then continued. The hardest part. "What…what happened? Tell me..."

* * *

Walking without his mind on track, Ryman easily remembered better days. For instance, answering the door to seven people whom he'd never thought he'd see in a life time. He was confused at first, partially because it was past midnight and he was way passed being sober, but all of that seemed to whisk away when the tallest of the group stepped to him and slapped him hard on the back. He wasn't smiling but he wasn't joking either when he said...

_"Pack your bags kid. You're moving in with us."_

Kevin though back to his first initial reaction and couldn't help a smiling sigh. His damn immature and impish nature had kicked in a little too fast as his eyes went wide at the sight of Cindy and Yoko to David and Jim-- the age categories ranging from twenty to forty. Alysa angrily stepped in his way before he could word anything remotely suggestive on living in something that could rival those tartly reality shows.

_"Don't even try it, Ryman." she showed him her fist just to be clear. "Just shut up and get your stuff."_

_"Yes ma'am." He muttered._

He didn't remember what he packed but it was probably just the essentials. His job didn't exactly hold money for extra things like STARS had promised him in the past. With a strange mix of guilt and relief he thought of the business he'd barely been apart of for no longer than a month. Compared to a security guard, the police rookie position was godlike. That made Kevin smile and he touched his old badge on impulse. He could make out Jim staring at him through his grey weary eyes, his small frown deeming into a small smile when he told him about his new job and his new life.

_"You'll do fine Kevin, you always have been." The humble gambler assured him from the left seat. He patted him softly on the back where Mark practically dented his shoulder bone._

_"Ugh." Kevin frowned immediately and set his suitcase on his lap with steady hands. When could that woman keep her mouth shut. "Is somebody going to explain to him what's going on?" Alyssa said._

_"That would be your job since you were the one who opted into this while thing." Kevin's mouth hang agape while the whole crew lapsed into a silence inside the sturdy van. He couldn't decide what was more surprising. The awesome comeback that left Alyssa silent or the fact that David spoke more than five words._

_"...He is right you know, Lyss." Cindy added thoughtfully from the back seat. Beside her, Yoko Suzuki nodded her head._

_"Fine. Fine!" The short haired blonde threw her arms on her lap and whisked toward the ex rookie cop. Her eyes glared from the passengers seat. "I'll tell you."_

Kevin made a quick right as he rounded the corridor, somewhere in between a flashback and the present.

--And by god it wasn't as if he didn't know what was happening! He was hung over for goodness sakes, any man would be after a fourteen hour shift and returning to a lonely run down apartment. Kevin laughed. It would not have mattered if he tried to deny an obvious explanation or if he worked for Umbrella-- because Alyssa's' impression of him as an all around idiot would never change. She would tell him and did tell him about Umbrella; how they ruined their lives, her life, his life and the whole kitten ka boodle. Kevin chuckled again as he remembered her scolding and lecturing tone as she went on and on. _--Not like you'd know what I'm talking about anyway." _she would always say at the end of every sentence.

Definitely a go figure there.

He also remembered when he registered his identity along side them. He stood, glancing up from his papers and saw them all in a single file, once and a while glancing at each other, their smiles breaking into grins. They liked him, they all did. He sent them a scowling smile right back and right then and there, he knew this unlikely crew would always be together. Combined, their talents climbed over mountains of any progress on any level. Screw the superhero requirements and a utility belt they had everything they ever needed.

Suddenly, a slow loneliness cast over his eyes as he stopped short. It was the last hallway. Slowly, Kevin's smile faded.

The charade of a reunion lasted no more than two weeks and now they hardly saw any of each other but the hair on the back of their heads. They were split up like cattle and caged off in different pens--_sorry_, Kevin idly thought, his eyes slanting. _...quarters_.

In his days aboard now, the ex cop had spent his time answering questions without a word answered on his part, and other times, helping out in the weapons department with the newly recruited. Before he'd been eager about the involvement but first impressions always had a tendency to mislead. This agency Alyssa found might have been fighting for a greater cause in the world, but at times Kevin felt more of a prisoner to his work than as a volunteer. (And at other times he wondered if this was all intentional.) Nevertheless, his aid and experience had proved surprisingly useful to the organization and post haste, to another surprise, he was put on an ill fated 24 hour call in the training grounds. Kevin easily remembered the sound of defeat he made when he read his schedule. He gritted his teeth at the ones in charge. Screw them, he had a new meaning for the letters of B.S. and A.A.

The last he'd seen of the others were in a seconds glance. In all he was told, which was little to nothing, Kevin would have even believed if they were spread across the globe by now...but, that was stretching it since he did get _some_ information.

David was assigned on pick up supply and was constantly on call like him, except he got to see the sunlight ever now and then. According to what he got out of him, he was heading for the hilltops of Russia; Mt. Elders or something like that, he couldn't remember. Mark was still around but he was a walking time bomb. If the ex cop recalled, their last conversation ended on a slightly suicidal note (Which was really no different on a normal day.) when he told him to take away his belt and shoelaces before bed. Kevin shuddered. It was a good thing it was just work and stress that was driving his mouth and not war flashbacks...or him.

Speaking of flashbacks, he at last blanked out of his memory trip and shook his head clean. His brazen eyes looked around quickly enough to get an idea of his loation. A little hazy at first but he was able to see the sign to his left reading "Authorized Personnel Only" and Kevin couldn't resist a grin. He reached for the handle bar, just enough to squeeze the cold metal when--

"Don't even try it, Kevin."

And his shoulders dropped like dead weight from behind, earning the feminine voice a sense of control. Behind him, she crossed her arms as his body language righted her exact thoughts. Kevin's' back was out and it slacked in a slightly humorous fashion, even as he turned to face her he looked like a hunchback in defeat.

Yoko stiffed for a moment when she realized his eyes had been tracing her curled lips in delight. She had been thinking of past times again too... Quickly, she clamped a frown and under her gaze, the muddy blonde fellow immediately sobered up in the face. Halfway on a slant and oblivious as ever to her scolding brown eyes watching his every move, he stuck his thumb over his shoulder and pointed casually to the door behind him. The door that was now in undeniable question.

"Yeesh, doc." he explained and Yoko glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was smiling, almost sympathetically at her, then to the door, then at her again. "I was just gonna check in on a few things... I mean look, the lights are practically dead in there."

Yoko took a deep breath and steadily let it go as she watched the young man turn away and lock eyes with the steel and ivory door again. It had a long handlebar instead of a knob and the bottom corners were locked with chrome plates embedded from the side walls. It was the infirmary to her as it was unauthorized property to those who were not apart of the medical staff.

Kevin glanced back her way and then to the door again with a quick sigh. He wasn't stupid no, he just hated secrets more than anything.

But to put it more simply, he was lonely and more so worried about his comrades.

Yoko reached out and touched his shoulder and Kevin, trained to hide spontaneous gestures, visibly flinched as he turned to face her with a wary smile.

"I'll ask David to take a look at it when he gets back." She said quickly, adding. "Now c'mon, it's off limits here, you know that. Surveillance is down."

"You're honestly going to wait that long? Aren't there people--"

He didn't get to finish as Yoko shoved him towards the exit.

"Of course I haven't forgotten about that! I'm not an idiot, so just shut up!" at the look of his confused honey eyes, Yoko bit her lip. Through her life, emotions were hardly apparent but with a job title as dignified and pressurizing as "head doctor" things seemed to slip out every occasion between her small gritted teeth.

She frowned back at the slightly attractive cop. He was foolish but caring and she'd been grateful for his support when he answered her call but he was obviously having trouble adjusting to this "new person" she was becoming.

Yoko's frown quickly faded into a thin line of poignancy and she looked away at the ivory colored door standing like some sort of entrance to hell. If she was going to save lives, her old, reclusive self was _not _going to be help. It may have given her a sense of innocence that he liked in her but innocence was not going to win the long battle ahead.

"I know I've changed, Kevin…" she whispered. And Kevin could almost feel those words weren't just directed at him. "...But innocence is not going to stop _them_."

He was convinced there. He took a few steps back and casually rested an arm on his hip.

"Hey, I never said you shouldn't speak your mind. It's just different seeing you act like this--Actually it's weird. Scary weird. Like Alyssa..." He pictured the short haired blonde smiling angelically his way and shuddered, not realizing the warmth spreading to his cheeks. "L-Like David suddenly growing a sense of humor or something.."

Yoko laughed briefly although it sounded a little strained.

"The only reason David doesn't like your blonde jokes is because he doesn't want to get clobbered along with you once Cindy finds out."

"Man…" He started to say something when the small black haired woman passed him and started for the door he was strictly told to avoid. "Hey! Hey! Wait up! What are you doing?!"

"Kevin, you're not a doctor." She couldn't' help but stifle a laugh at the look on his face that was so readily protective of her. She had no idea that in Davids absence the plumber had beaten a promise into the rookie cops skull to keep her safe. She smiled slightly before turning the knob. "I'll be fine… Now go."

She heard his legs shift closer for a moment, but they stopped in place and Kevin sighed in defeat. With his first and last regard to "stay sharp an keep in touch", Ryman stuffed his warm hands into his jean pockets and was out of the hall in twenty steps.

Yoko waited until he was gone completely from sight and sound before kneeling down and removing the locks with a foreign mechanism each staff member was given. Once the locks were loose she kicked them aside and entered the room quietly on her feet. She felt the fading lights on the back of her white lab coat and recalled Kevin's innocent words on instinct. He truly had no idea and was way better off.

* * *

Even in a car, even in a piece of shit metal burning on a skittle that was still in the middle of nowhere, this guy just wouldn't stop. Conversing in the military was of no straight comparison to government business talk and Billy didn't even try to understand why Leon was mouthing off about how they'd be taking a detour. He just grunted a response. The hell would he know or care? In his days as lieutenant, if he screwed up, it was communicated though loud explicit cursing and an up side smack to his own head...and then later, a much more disciplined smack from his commander.

Slowly, Coen unraveled the shirt pieces he wrapped around his bloodied hand. Karma or whatever the cause, it had somehow gotten caught between two heavy stockpiles of cargo, and just as he was about to ease it out, the car had jump started and his hand scraped hard against the sharp side of a metal stag he didn't even know was there.

Ten minutes from then it had swelled up thanks to the heat so it looked like the very least of his problems for now... Not that it hurt, he simply couldn't tell. Was it the motto "If it doesn't hurt in the center your not dead" or was it the fact that they beat him up so bad last night he was numb? He couldn't remember or tell from it either.

But he _could_ hear and he heard an edged laughter in the agents breath as he continued explaining how he was going to have his ears chewed off once they arrived.

Billy tried another look at the guy and found himself wondering again. Really, Leon didn't seem to fit the type, at least not completely. His dirty blonde hair and smug voice hinted towards at least a fifth of his cynical humor. To the con himself he passed more of as a freelancer; a man they called on at the very last minute. Prior, Billy only thought that dream jobs like those existed in the movies, pure fiction, but perhaps if hordes of zombies and monsters could emerge while he was in prison then why not super fly secret agents?

His head hurt again and he cautiously rested his back against what felt like a flat smooth surface but wasn't. He groaned.

Leon cleared his throat and began to speak again and Billy promptly shut his eyes. He hoped he just had something to swallow. No such luck.

"You mind telling me why you were so intent on dieing back there? If you ask me, I don't think living out here is so bad..."

"…"

"I take it _was _bad?" Billy yawned obscenely.

"...If it was, there wouldn't be people." Leon rubbed his chin and glanced at his unwelcoming partner through the cracked mirror. Things were going too slow and his job was a very demanding albeit a well paid one.

"Okay so touché then." He muttered. On a whim he decided to up the ante on the sarcasm. Maybe it would help since Coen never seemed to stop being so damn cynical all the time. "So you were enjoying your second life I take it?" He asked dryly.

It suddenly became quiet and Leon focused on the road rather than the cons' icy glare through the mirror.

"Don't threaten me with something I've already lost." He sneered.

"At the very least, it's just a question." Leon sighed.

"You can answer it for me better. Hearing someone else talk about my life gives me so much comfort it _kills_ me."

Leon laughed, or at best forced himself to. The tone in Coens's voice was near sinister.

"I think you're getting paranoid." Altogether he was surprised he could voice his first initial thought. Leon tried to add something reassuring as he could feel the other mans eyes on his back. "Circumstances prior I mean..."

"Shut up."

Now Leon was amused. He ducked his head to the wheel and swallowed his laugh. This guy was priceless. The curt and short way he told him to shut his mouth... Leon eased himself, both back into the seat and into what anyone else would have assumed as 'the worst start of a conversation'. ...but they obviously didn't know Leon Scott Kennedy.

"No really. If I were you in your situation, I'd probably be making all sorts of assumptions... "

"Do you ever shut up?"

"Plus, I don't think it matters where you kill someone as long as there dead."

At the agents' light suggestion, Billy sighed, shook his head, and then dropped his head back, giving the most humorless laugh his dried lungs could rally. Leon suddenly felt intimidated for hiding his amusement before.

"You're an idiot." The con finally said. He didn't quite hear himself say it the first time so he repeated it, much more emphasis on every word.

"And why is that?" Mock curiosity tainted Leon's voice with a smug smile. To say he dealt with backtalk was an understatement. No. He dealt with bullshit. And this was the least of any he'd been forced to eat.

Billy sighed. "You're government shit--you're supposed to know all about me, right?" Leon quirked an eyebrow his way and said nothing but couldn't keep a low smile from curving. The truth was, the idiocy they were both putting on was actually amusing him. The two of them playing dumb to get info. "It _would_ matter if I was killed somewhere else because my death would be made public then."

_So it really was a cover up. But why..?_

Then it hit him hard, like a needle to the head. Blondie suddenly recalled their location and he grinned sheepishly to himself. They were in Mexico, the prime haven and solution for fugitives of any kind. Boy, the heat was truly getting to him.

Leon's dumb smile faded at his critical expression. Sighing softly, the agent racked a wave of bangs to the side of his face.

"Ah." he managed. Acknowledging a completely different subject unknown to Billy.

"Yeah. _Ah_." Billy echoed and frowned at the reflection of Leon's' smile.

"Well I guess it's all starting to make sense now..."

Billy scoffed, his cobalt eyes half closed and just about on anywhere but the agent. He was growing impatient with Leon regardless of what he thought a good ten minutes ago. He was also beginning to think this guy was just_ some guy_, doing his job to the T when he actually could care less about the statistics of the orders. Either that or he was purposely pissing him off.

"You wanna shed some'ore light on that_. __Leon_."

"In a few." He answered shortly and peered ahead with scanning eyes. His mind was momentarily focused on direction rather than explaining himself for the moment.

An assortment of weeds and grass was peaking from the stained rough dirt on an overhead hill, A strangely familiar landmark he noticed after a hard stare. over the blind spot. If memory served, town was just ahead and the parked ferry boat was in no less than thirty feet from there. When he was done with his calculations, Leon quickly mulled and then finally gave his answer.

"That's right." he recalled to himself. "They told me you were preemptive, ruthless and above all; an ass."

"Ain't that the truth." Billy muttered tiredly.

A sound shriek of wheels in the dirt emitted as the vehicle skidded to a stop. Leon whisked the useless keys from the holder and whipped around in his seat, body language casual and firm.

"Believe it or not Coen, we are in dire need of that sort of attitude." Leon said in a harsh whisper.

"_We?" _The pinch of interest in his blue eyes became hidden as they narrowed. "So what _your _Government wants is_ me_? Well you can tell them.." Leon shook his head, cutting in fast.

"No not exactly. Poor choice of words. Anyway, it's not _my_ government so no. It's Umbrella that wants you." He immediately felt the cons eyes on him after relaying the information. Leon closed his eyes for a moment and thought that perhaps, he should have taken it at a slower pace. A small silence passed until he heard a resolute click of a metal handle and footsteps reshuffling into the dirt. Coen was sitting at the edge of the doorway with his back arched forward and his hands on his knees. His eyes were forward at the town but distant as if he was reading something that wasn't there, and Leon knew just what.

_Aw hell. _There it was again. The word "Umbrella". A heavy twinge of adrenaline surged through his stomach and Billy stopped dead in his tracks, all entirely by instinct. The first time he heard it he paid no mind, hell he was hardly awake let alone alive to respond to whatever the blonde was saying as he, intruded, freed, and helped his life get back on track. But wait, what the hell? Umbrella wanted _him_?

Billy sat back, pulling the door shut with good _thunk_. He was unwilling to accept everything with a blundering headache. He grabbed his forehead with his better hand and muttered. "I don't believe you."

"They wanted you before, Coen." Leon said as gentle and honest as he could but failed at the anger he was getting.

"I'm touched, really. But no." He muttered darkly, contradicting the anger in his voice when he shook his head in his hands, still weaseling through the denial state.

"Listen to me!" Leon snapped lightly. "Like it or not, what you know is vital information and the gov--

The con stopped short and turned toward him, "Wait a damn minute."--close enough for Leon to instinctively reach for his knife pocket but stopped halfway; and he truly wish he hadn't. Billy Coen might not have been classified as a murderer according to his superiors but his cold and steely cobalt eyes were starting to say otherwise.

"Your government wants to know about Umbrella from me?" Leon nodded taking a step back and Billy snorted. "What the hells to know! That's bullshit! Don't they already know enough from Raccoon? The entire city was destroyed!" He spat.

It became silent again, this time, to a point where either side wondered if to take action or not.

"..So you_ do_ know." Leon's voice was barely above a whisper. His thoughts swerved into a deep muse that he didn't even notice the signs of civilization ahead.

Neither spoke any further, the tension was indeed rising but in another direction and Leon was mildly relived. The lieutenant was spawning hatred on something else other than him thanks to his little slip. Though, regardless on how much he was told about Billy and how much he figured, Leon wasn't completely out of his way. Coen would only be able to know the truth completely once they arrived at their destination.

_If this doesn't motivate him, nothing else will._

* * *

"Chris? Chris! Hello? Wake up!"

Chris Redfield stirred. He was sitting halfway out of his chair, his legs out and his head slightly tilted on one hand while the other dangled off his lap. His tired eyes saw his sister roll her eyes at him from across and he yawned obscenely just to tick her off. Barely in the mood to stretch his back all the way out, he tried relaxing into his seat with obvious discomfort on his face. The people, voices, luggage, wheels; the noise was unbearable in the airport--and thanks to untimely schedules', he'd be stuck here for another hour.

He considered retuning to his nap when a loud tone emitted from the PA system.

"Attention" Both of them twitched slightly in the eye. It was that robotic voice of a female again. Whose calm and collected voice was anything but assuring thanks to past memories. "Flights 419, 283, and 160 will be arriving 30 minutes ahead of schedule." The speaker closed with a heavy click. Claire felt her hand reaching for the middle of her chest, her heart was racing as expected.

_Great_. Chris's brow furrowed. He felt like sinking into his seat and muttering a stream of curses but his sister seated next to him would probably leave then. Unbeknown to him she was keeping a worry eye out.

"Chris!"

There, a few yards ahead was a light brunette heading his way, waving with one hand, and all the while trying to pace herself without losing a grip on her bags. At the moment Chris stood, Jill Valentine tripped over her own two feet and unsuspectingly flew into his arms.

"Whoa, hang on there." Chris laughed as he gathered her up in an awkward hug. Jill slowly untangled herself from his arms when their fingers brushed and suddenly caught onto the string of her ticket bracelet. The two faces flushed together, although deeply amused at their situation.

Claire didn't look up from her magazine, a little stiff when it came to his STARS teammates as she had never met them personally more than a few minutes...

Once the two were done snatching off their friendship bracelet as she heard Chris mutter, they exchanged their welcomes properly in an although mockingly manner. Claire rolled her eyes but didn't let he smug face shy away as she watched the two.

At that point she rose from her chair and walked over to them. Jill practically jumped out of her skin when their eyes met.

"Claire?" The man beside her suppressed a chuckle as he watched his partners' bold eyes blink in confusion. "Guess I didn't even see you there…" Jill smiled at Claire as she rubbed her arm absentmindedly. "Yeah, it must have been the air sickness..."

"C'mon." Chris edged the two women onward. Once he got Jill's' luggage properly strapped to his shoulder he slung both arms around the women. "Anyway. I thought your flight was delayed?" He asked his companion, oblivious to her still flustered face, now growing.

"No…it wasn't." She replied, ignoring his reaction as she slid out of his arm. Claire decided to cut in at this point, hiding any traces of amusement on her face.

"It was flight 282, right Jill?" She nodded

"But that's…" Chris paused and muttered to himself while Claire calmly removed his arm around her shoulder. "A-Anyway…" He said in his best professional voice. "We've got bigger things to take care of."

Claire sighed exasperatedly at her brother.

"Always so tense..." She said, and then almost immediately prepared herself as her brother twitched and spun around, eyes narrowed and flaring at her challenge. Jill smiled weakly as she watched the pair go at it. It was tempting, but she decided not to interfere this time, as she also knew the consequences of getting between two Red fields.

* * *

Leon Kennedy looked up at the blank and beautiful sky as he felt the best part of the hour shadow him. He stretched his arm up, the one baring his watch, and recalled the time from the blazing sunny glare around his wrist; it followed a heavy, heavy frown and Leon let his arm fall limp out of displeasure.

Afternoon, otherwise the symbol to anyone on a workload that the day was near done and a lunch break was in well reaching hands. The agent suppressed a low growl in his stomach with his own groan. Well, it would have _been _in reach had the blasted jeep not broken down. Just his luck too. Around the ten minutes after he jacked the engine alive and was starting to feel somewhat relaxed the thing gave out like a dieing jackass.

It was the first time Billy had been put to use other than in the vocabulary department. With the heavy muscled ex marine along his side they managed to haul the load of questionably dear cargo all the way to the nearest town. It was there where Leon decided to take a risk and park the dead metal in a repair garage of a trusted friend he knew outside of work. While Billy waited outside, slightly reluctant to do just about anything but sit and sleep--Leon bid his farewell and the two set off again into the scorching sun.

Now, instead of three hours ahead of schedule Leon was twenty minutes behind, and while to the rookies it was godsend luck but to the renowned rescuer of the presidents daughter from a hellish cult who was going to turn up late on an escort mission that were tossed out to recruits like free toothpicks …it couldn't help but fabricate humiliation...not that society ever took his work seriously.

To the far left corner of the ferry, or, the stern of this rusted boat was his ever loyal escorted fellow whom he suddenly considered calling the "talking package" because Billy Coen only opened his mouth to give an answer or put in his sarcastic input when he quote on quote "Felt like it"

Coen was looking out towards the sea, his blue eyes slightly weary from their hike to the harbored docks. He was dressed out of his torn rags and in standard civilian get up, or at least what they could find; that being, a pair of rugged jeans and a skin tight black t-shirt. Leon couldn't help but laugh when he watched Billy walk out of the back alley store in something that looked ridiculously familiar to what he wore on his fated rescue mission of the President Daughter. Instantly he pictured the con in his place and was met with some...interesting scenarios, making him laugh even harder.

Billy didn't notice Leon placing his hands on the middle of his chest and kneeling foreword, he was too busy drifting between a conscious and a sleep. Hell knew he needed the rest but there was so much going on that was out of his realm of knowledge around him that it kept him awake. He reminded himself, the agent was fairly trustworthy but he still had his suspicions.

Leon smirked. The guy was a muscled sack of arrogance but only was it until the unlikely duo had reached civilization that he realized that kind of appeal actually worked on the opposite sex. Leon smirked, he recalled on how Billy ignored nearly every woman glancing hopefully in his direction. He was still a jerk no matter if he was excepted or not, and that just made him even more of a headache to think about.

His last sentiment of Coen was lost as a cold airy wisp swam under his neck and through his hair. Leon sighed, dreamily but silently. At least the breeze was nice he'd give that much credit to the weather. He reached an arm up to touch his hair, still cooked from the suns rays back out in the open trash of a jeep. ...When was he ever going to get that vacation they kept promising him.

_Probably spending an eternity in the luxury of my own coffin_. He thought.

He heard Billy shift to his side, still sitting atop the beaten iron crate. He could feel him looking in his direction. The weak steel beneath them had been shaking for a good half hour, indicating the near end of the ride. Inadvertence though together they read the horizon as the rampant slish-slosh of water fell in close to their ears. Finally the boat had docked into the harbor.

He didn't waste anymore time. Leon done the unthinkable and nabbed the back of Billy's' collar with a tight fist.

"We're going." He boldly stated, ignoring the side glance with dark blue eyes suggesting he never ever try that again. Leon only sighed as he let go. "Follow me so we can both get this over with." He muttered.

The con eyed him for a moment but let it go, shrugging halfheartedly in agreement. Without another word he followed the agent to and through the rear entry. Inside it wasn't nearly as furnished or polished but it was empty and that was what mattered most in the affair. Billy glanced towards Leons shoulder, casually, and tried to read his expression from behind. Once again he was "following a line that wasn't there"

They crossed over into the second room, which was a little more filled than the one they just came from. It was scant but fit, cheap but polished, and by the look in their observant eyes, it was the brazen bar counter running along the side of the scope that said so. Billy couldn't resist a longing look at the rack of fine liquor before stepping out. There was a good amount, most likely all bootlegged which in his case meant all the more tempting to try.

"It costs ten hundred a bottle if you're interested." Leons said, surprisingly subtle. Billy said nothing, merely grunting. Neither of them stopped for a longer chance of gazing at the savored booze and the con himself suddenly wondered, on the very last step before they were out, that if he nabbed a bottle a few minutes back could he have used it towards his other "escape."

Silence followed the two men as Leon continued to lead.

He steered them back to the outside and then immediately to the right where a numbly looking ramp seemed to peak out of nowhere at the side of the ship. Billy stopped short for a moment, the agent momentarily oblivious to his movement and continued on without a pause over his warped shoulder.

The dark rims of Billy Coens' eyes narrowed. Always, or not so very fond of heights, he liked to know what lay below him before he stepped his foot in.

The ramp stretched, down and down, so steep that when he stepped on blondie almost lost his own footing when the iron flap of a walkway had wobbled under the adding pressure of his weight. This caused the agent to whip his neck south north and finally acknowledge the distance between them.

Billy gazed back, his eyes reading nothing while Leon's exhibited clear and cut confusion. Yeah, real awkward.

The end of the ramp met at a narrow docking bay, leading to a one way crevice. The split broke into two directions and one stretched farther than the other. For a brief moment, Billy had a strange hunch over the cross way he just boarded. Arriving from a ferry capable of thousands that lead to a board, barely supportive of two people... Odd wasn't the word and neither was suspicious. There was another but it escaped him.

His head still turned stupidly while he walked the other way, Billy didn't notice the shadows overcastting his back. When he turned, the night went to his head and he jerked to a slow hesitant stop. He could hear Leon, talking, saying "just a few steps ahead" and he too, had considerably slowed his pacing.

At some bizarre short point, the path they'd take had molded into the entrance of a cross between a cave and a subway station…not quite the underground sea cavern setting from those old eighties movies. Billy shook his head. Honestly, was he expecting to see that? Of course not but it would do him some good humor because this headquarters was beginning to be just as secretive and bizarre as that fucking chocolate factory .

Of course, Billy kept his comments to himself, wanting to relish the silence even as their suspicious location was nagging on his conscious for an answer. He racked both his hands through his hair and trudged on, the blatant scowl on his face hiding signs of relief for the agents superb sense of direction and awareness.

They wondered far, the walkway feeling less and less like dirt all around. Billy shook his head from the on coming headache; as per usual thoughts were spurring around like mice let loose. Were they really in the Caribbean like Leon said or was their location even on the traditional map for that matter? His eyes dilated and he could see pipes breaking out and through the walls as they began to enter into the core of the "cave". There was no steam busting from holes like his idle mind half expected but the humidity was dropping dead and it was enough to make them both feel the heat again.

Billy kept his resolve high as a flashback invaded his mind. Ragathon...he may have never seen the place but that was about all he ever heard at the institute. Some said that those escorted on death row were blindfolded the entire walk, from the convo to "the chair", you never knew who or what was out there, just the sound of your own two feet and the the ones behind you. When you reached the end, they said you could feel the fires of hell reaching for your eyes from behind the white sheet. Begrudgingly he recalled the memories of the words and the people behind them...that was, if he could even call them people. With the exception of his situation, the old saying about jail barely fit the description anymore. He had to fight nearly every day to keep himself alive. No friends, no partnerships, only competition.

A violent shudder ran up his neck and it was as though Leon sensed it. Aware, the agent turned on his heel and faced the con with a slightly calming expression, one that was meant to be shared.

"I know you've been deprived but we're almost there. "Billy nodded and took a deep breath, unfortunately the dry air caught up in his throat and he coughed at the feeling of his lungs being pressed tight. He staggered while walking, his shoulders reflexing with each scattered hurl of air from his mouth, he shielded his face with one arm until he could feel nothing in his throat.

He lowered his arm and at the sight of a gated entrance his blue eyes became ice again as he steered toward the center. He watched Leon glance his way as he searched his jacket pocket, and completely forgot how lucky he was not to have tripped over anything while he walked with his eyes partially closed.

"Just so you know, this isn't a dream." Billy somehow knew Leon had thought the same thing at one point. His eyes had gone soft while he reached into the back of his shirt and pulled a tag card from around his neck. "But I know I'm just wasting my breath since you've practically lived in a dream world...or a nightmare."

He was met with a surprisingly reluctant reply. "Nightmare sounds more accurate.

Leon nodded as he swiped the card. "It sure does."

There was a solid clank of metal and a pair of steel doors pushed apart from the middle, sliding at a slow speed that Leon himself grew impatient as he folded his arms in a slow and petulant manner.

--And slowly unfolded them at the sight that greeted them.

They were all garbed in grey and black attire, suited up from head to toe as if they were ready to take on the world. A fleet of soldiers, a private militia of men.

Through the darkness their weapons pointed past him.

"Billy Coen," A clear cut voice announced, so deep and so thorough that Leon did a double take before drawing for his back pocket knife.

"David... " The agent arched his back slightly while keeping his tone mildly curious. "What are you doing?" He asked slowly.

The stout man side glanced Kennedy with a nod as he reloaded his weapon face down.

"My job." He retorted, and cocked his pistol.

"That's not--" Leon heard the resound click of a gun and stopped.

David King had his own weapon drawn. It pointed limply the famed fugitive in a taunting motion.

"Coen." He announced gruffly and Billy, already prepared for hell the moment the doors gave way, had merely angled his head to the tallest shadow. His eyes glimmered a frozen blue as he stood in front of the leading man, lines of lazer red resting all over his body as he stared him down. He dared this "David" man to speak to him again.

"You are under arrest for the assault and murder of Rebecca Chambers. Anything you say or do will be held in a court of law. "

And he wished he hadn't.

* * *

**END**

* * *

Um, I do feel this chapter got a little confusing at some points, but all I can say for now is that the next chapter will make everything clear. ...I think I just stated the ridiculously obvious. DX

Just to state some points however: The Outbreak cast is here to stay. (woot!) The setting takes place one year after RE4 (Seven years after Racoon. I guess before Degeneration..?) The BSAA is going to be used. (Since it's an organization spread in branches.) The first section is a flashback as the "One year ago" line suggests. (I don't like using italics...very annoying to read, sorry.) The plot of the story will be Billy Coen centric but the RE cast will not be forgotten. And...there's going to be romance? Well, yeah I think I stated that before...

And I know it takes me a long time to update but the chapters I write are pretty long so I hope that way, each new update is quote on quote "Worth the wait". Also I'm verrry busy this summer with my job and my friends and college essays and summer reading and Edward Cullen and Jasper Hale and Ughh another headache is on its waaay.

Heal me with reviews if you can!

* * *


	4. What Is Real

**AN: **The following chapter has been revamped, edited, expanded etc. . In other words, and in my own selfish words because I am dead tired at the moment.....Read it!

* * *

**Chapter 4: What Is Real**

* * *

When he stumbled into the bunk room, sodden and weary, he was stupidly lost in a mission to find anything short of a drying towel rather than search through the hordes of blankets piece by piece. He tore his way to the beds, jagged steps and all. It wasn't until the short and sound gasp of his partner that he pulled himself together. He leapt back alongside her and cocked the deadly magnum forward...

--Toward half of a mans' face, the skin running greasy with sweat and blood. Over and beneath what lay left of his shredded and bloodied clothing, he was stained deep with the scent of bereavement; an appeal to none but death.

Slowly, Billy tapped the magnum down at the sight of human eyes from the survivor. They were forlorn. The man could tell well enough that the sight of himself would rip anyone disturbed, and yet he watched them for lengths of times before turning away shamefully in his sighs.

Billy was the first to break if only by mind first. Rebecca inched ahead and immedietly the con latched his attention on her movement. She crouched to the poor fool, and tentatively--as he assumed the medic was instructed to do so because her body was shaking—she reached out to pat the cleaner side of the assumed infected man. Instinctively on his part, Billy readied his magnum at rest, but nothing happened, at least for a while. The man let out a weak response of pain and grumbles to the girls' questions. Billy shook his head

A heavy palm clamped on her shoulder and she gasped. "Rebecca..." Her shoulders slouched in response and Billy could literally picture the exact look on her face.

He called her name again, and this time she rose up to his attention, only to have his gaze averted. Very rookie like, her body language was showing: arms hugged loosely around the waist, lips frowning over in deep thought, fingers taping quietly... He'd give her some time.

Billy turned to the survivor and scrutinized him by an unknown will. The surfacing thought was it must have been like this for all of them. All of the "zombies" they killed. How long it took to for all of them to die and then reawaken? Was there any feeling in between, or any control? Could a cure be possible to consider let alone exist? He glanced Rebecca's way. For certain she wished more than him that they had the time to answer all these questions. He was certainly curious but now willing. To him, things were simple: they arrived, they were armed, and they would shoot what was undeniably going to emerge from this mans body.

but...

Completely open, Rebecca touched his shoulder and Billy immediately looked out from where he wandered off. By her strained smile, her faze was well over and she must have been watching him think.

He was about to reassure her with a quiet joke when she interrupted.

* * *

"Ah…Adie." The man reached a well worn and tarnished hand towards the single cuffed fugitive on the other side of the room. Reluctantly, he was acknowledged.

Carefully, Billy crouched on one leg and brushed his dirtied hands among a pile of scattered files just beside the bed. He felt a feeble wood poke the side of his hand and flipped over a picture framed photo of a young woman smiling faintly. She was surrounded by three children.

Standing and with little to no emotion in his lean face, he handed the photo to the sickly man without any eye contact. At first, he stiffened in the arms but flashed a shaky grin upon connecting his eyes with the picture. With a stubby grip, he pried the photo from Billy.

"There you are..." His mouth flickered faintly through the pain of his horribly scarred features.

Adam was this name and Billy watched the middle aged man swallow hard and shake his dark yet paling head. He looked positively lost in another time. Hearing him talk to the picture, the ex marine felt a tiny dose of relief until the he realized he was being stared at appreciatively. Fast as he could manage, the con looked away. There was a feeling of guilt somehow on his back, but Adam just hummed blissfully as if to banish the awkward moment.

"I would have told her…" he went on. "I'm going on a business trip or some…something like that…because…" He tried a laugh but death bit back twice as hard. The photo fell into his lap as pain gathered in his chest and face. The sensation lasted long. He groaned and cursed as his hands continued to scratch nothing but his own skin. Somehow, the scratching appeared satisfying so he kept on vigorously; evident in his panting sighs.

Billy turned his head up from his cuff. His gut dropped like a ton at the sickening sight and he needed a distraction. He searched the night table beside the bed on a whim but was met with the same stock of paper he'd seen in any other cabinet in this godforsaken hell hole. Adam continued to suffer beside him without rest, scratching furiously at his stomach. Deeply frustrated, Billy slammed the drawer shut in defeat.

Defeat... What was there to win in this anyway? He gritted his teeth and tried to think of something possibly uplifting for the better of his conscious.

He could thank himself for one thing if he wanted to, and that was Rebecca's absence. She was out getting supplies in the safe house just a few doors down.. If she wasn't right now, she'd be hysterical, and him, being her unofficial pillar of support; he wouldn't quite have shined at his job with demons resurfacing from all four corners of the room.

He tried to think of something else, but could only think of Rebecca... God. It had been more than five minutes since her departure and the room was safe to say the least, so why worry about it? They both scouted it with keen eyes; one of a soldier and the other, a STARS. For good measure even, he scouted it himself again before heading back to keep an eye on poor Adam. The person they were...trying to keep alive.

He thought of Rebecca's words as they quietly battled the fate of this very unlikely survivor. _You can't prevent death._ Was what he said to her. He could help the situation but she clearly could not. For years, since a ripe age, his mind had been trained to work around human empathy while she was a package of innocent emotions waiting to burst. He knew how this was an obvious waste of time for the both of them, but voicing his opinion any more could have only harmed the trust he worked so hard to build up between himself and the girl. That was the funny things about risks. Everyone had their own definition.

Maybe he should just leave the place. Get out, get her, and just go. He was right. Who could prevent death from this?!

"Addie…"

But weren't they all in the same boat? In this…situation where reality brinked with hell, was there really a better person or a leader to listen to? A better risk to take? He felt inclined to shake his head. There was no dominance nor was there a challenge. This was survival and everyone, living or dieing—himself somewhere stuck between the middle—had a right to help and do whatever it took to stay alive.

So no... Maybe this wasn't a complete waste of time.

"Ah…Addie…"

If only he had thought of this sooner.

He turned to the opposite end of the room where a few scattered desks lay in a corner. As he reached the closest one, a middling rush of water could be heard from behind the walls. The mush of misty running water, while not a comforting sound, it was meters more of a would be relief, however, for some reason it failed to distract him.

"Ahd. D-Dee..'

Tired, sick of it all, Billy slamed one hand hard against the wood of the closest counter. He rubbed his forehead with the back of his wrist. Something moist in the corner of his eyes had welled and he sighed disgustedly soft. He was supposed to be acting like a criminal. He didn't want to think about what to do with himself and his future until it was all over. Adam, was now apart of it too.

"Ahh…Addie.. AddDiee! ADiiEEEE!...Ah-AhDDiIIIIIiEEE!"

Why? Why was this happening? Why did he have to see this? Where was the running water? Why couldn't he hear it anymore?

"Oh my god..."

Distractions....He might as well have been wasted the moment he turned around. Half awake from what was happening and still leaning against the desk, Billy stared at his partner who had just entered the bunk room.

She stood on uneven legs, her eyes trailed helplessly over Adams violently convulsing body. The poor man was trapped in a spasm and could barely control himself as he rolled from side to side and eventually across and off the bed spread, hitting the floor shoulder and head first.

Trance'd, Rebecca watched as the body buckeled and twisted to face upwards again. The wounds on his chest she bandaged were in process of popping open as if an invisible knife was cutting apart the stitches.

He moaned loudly, teeth stretching from the bleeding gums. A deafening roar of anguish that made both of Billy and Rebeca's insides skipped high heights. Billy's skull swam with particular pressure as he watched Rebecca unthinkingly dash towards the clearly infected. She had dropped the little white box she was holding and slid to her knees, close by...

Billy didn't think twice about it. He yanked Rebecca up to her feet and then pulled her to him, catching just a glimpse of her wide green eyes before she locked into his right arm. Again, he pushed himself onto the heels of his feet, his arms too occupied with tugging Rebecca along. She squirmed uselessly in his grip but he refused to unlatch her. Letting her go was equivalent to letting a bird fly with clipped wings over a sea of cats. She was acting just as smart as a bird with clipped wings too. Stupid and failing to grasp the idea of what was going on and where. She needed a guide.

His magnum poked him in the side. He ignored the mockery. As much as he wanted to chastise himself for not using his gun earlier, he held it in.

He darted his head back and forth between "Adam" and the door of escape, and finally, at long last, his shoulder bone hit a familiar wall. Almost mad, he groped around it with his palm and thumb until a round metallic sphere slipped into his hand. Almost..!

He was already done twisting the knob and ready to press his entire body weight when something tried to pull him back.

"Rebecca." At first, he peered down with hunting eyes but let it slide the moment he saw her truly scared. She was helpless, terrified and desperate, all so very contrary to what was going to kill them if they didn't think fast enough...and yet they once had those same exact emotions too. It was all so impossible to think about and yet, tonight, it made perfect sense in the most sickening ways.

"Rebecca!" He called again, loaded with determination to leave rather than calm her down first. He was right for acting so but she made no move. Too focused on breathing in and out, she had turned still. "Rebecca! …Rebecca!" He shouted.

The sound of scuffling footsteps started like a warning and he quickly scouted for Adam. He found him just staggering to his feet, adapting through wild motions of his arms and jaw, a new want for hunger...

Enough! He turned back to Rebecca to find her looking down this time and regrettably, he stalled yet again. Her breath was shallow and cold on his neck and her eyes were distant looking. She looked ready to faint. Enough! He grabbed by her shoulders and shook her.

"HEY!"

At last, she moved. She grabbed onto his waist with her shaky arms, and it scared himself when he saw her reaching for his gun. Instead of restraining her first, he peered at the sides of her hip and saw both her gun and holster had been torn from her belt. Missing.

_Where was..._ No, no time to think

What happened next surprised himself. He restrained her poorly. One hand over hers on the magnum, he squeezed her attention to reality until she was looking up again. He squeezed her hands again and called her name as calmly as he could.

Gently he slid the magnum from her fingers and pushed her behind him.

"I'll do it. Don't worry. I'll do it."

He nodded to himself to assure he was in control and then whipped his head around quick. One step and a half, he slid forward on his left leg to angle his aim. A single shot would do it and the zombie was dead center in his range. Both his aim and stance were secured…

Unexpectedly, he jolted. The weight in his free arm had shut against the side of him and he felt his head tilt right on impulse. Soft skin and red hair had fallen deep into the crock of his neck. Under the midpoint of her rosy bangs, Rebecca's eyes were knitted shut.

The magnum still pointing ahead---a tad slanted--he gave her hand one last squeeze.

"…thank you."

He heard that one.

Without a word, he looked back, closed his eyes, and fired.

* * *

Chris Redfield was gargling when he thought he heard his phone ring. He planned on turning the water off first but his reflection in the mirror was quicker to act. It grabbed his attention by both of his fully brown dilated eyes and in doing so, the delusional ring faded to the back of his mind for the remainder of some time.

His reflection…it was no surprise to him. There were logical things to blame for looking like a ragged beaten rag at the end of the day---the mirror being one but from a naturalistic point of view but such was the life of a working man on the clock.

He shrugged. If anything, he thought with a slight "hmph" of satisfaction, this bit of insomnia on his face was a sign of hard effort put to work. It was a mark of approval.

As his thoughts fleeted to an end and the topic of sleep began, a tiny string of shivers beneath the skin of his back had run down like a heavy weighted breeze. It was his phone?

Tired of looking at himself for more than a half a minute, he reached out and turned off the running faucet. Once the handle squeaked tight, the very near end of a familiar tone could be heard clearly. Wordlessly, he reached for his back pocket and pried open the tiny black phone just before the final note hit.

"Thish ish--" He realized he was speaking with a mouth full of toothpaste and quickly spat into the porcelain sink. 'Guess his cheeks were puffy looking for another reason…

"Hello, Chris? Chris?!" The speaker carried a worried voice of a female and the perfect silence from him when he retracted from the phone could only grant more time for her to fret.

Once the miss communication was clarified, another pause followed, much smaller, until Chris spoke again.

"Anyway…" was the start. He quickly stepped out into his bedroom and closed the bathroom door with the back of his foot. "why are you calling?" When Cindy had answered him, he could hear her much more clearly. The bars on his phone must have grown an extra two or something.

Cindy chatted on, trifling through minor details on certain events that related to them in another portion of their lives, completely separate from the norm. As she continued, Chris silently plotted himself onto the nearest edge of his bed for a comfortable seat. He listened in on her story of how she had to close up the diner by herself and quick rush to the infirmary and stitch up a patient. Once or twice, he would rub his nose to keep himself awake but that was only when she talked about George. The guy was just too standoffish to his own gender

Still talking. This girl could go on for hours… He glanced at the clock. Late.

Finally, at long last, the chatty blonde let in an open chance for him to talk.

"That's good. That's good." He felt nervous laughter build up around his yawn. "Now, is there something-----

"Chriis!"

-----He felt the need to sigh as he lightly tossed the phone onto his bed. Claire's voice could and _had_ pierced through the thick walls of his room like a heavy pick straight through thin ice. The idea of Jill _not_ spending the night was slowly becoming less of a burden on him as he so vaguely suggested and she so subtly denied his offer.

"Go to sleep!" His sister shouted again. His solid bedroom door had proved to be about as thick as paper.

For the second time, the stout headed brunette tried his best to act civil as he opened his bedroom door. He caught a glimpse of his sister on the pull out bed, her bed.

Claire was fully clothed in warn out clothes, his clothes to be precise. She was lying flat on her stomach on a pull out where a hefty bowl of popcorn was propped beside her elbows. Dead in front, was the obvious small yet blindly flashing television that let itself known well when all the lights were off. The fifteen inch box, somehow became ten times bigger as its image overcastted the entire mattress in a bright glow.

He hadn't noticed entirely because of all the flashing lights but Claire was looking at him ever since he opened the door. She gave him a look, like he was the reason behind everything that ticked her off. She sniffed before scooping a handful of buttery sweets from the bowl.

"_Trying _to pay attention here." She motioned ahead with a wavy hand gesture and for good measure she rolled her eyes back to the screen. Chris uninterestedly followed her point and saw two men fighting in a huge house that looked like either it was under repairs or a train had ran through it.

He let his eyes talk to her before replying with nonchalant smugness.

"To what?" and quickly closed the door before any nearby pillow or object could connect with his face.

He laid his back against the door with a short sigh when suddenly, a ray of screams and sounds exploded in a massive incoherent blur behind him. The door swayed obtusely accurate into the middle of his back making Chris Redfield think something was very very wrong as he twisted himself around and reached for the knob.

He ignored Cindy on the line completely as he pushed his bedroom door open once more.

Gone was everything.

The living room was in a hazy blend of grey and purple, the kind of purple, seen in a deadly gas. Methanol. It sat still above the grey which, deep in the center looked like an unnatural abyss of fire was creeping closer.

Fire... Fire!

His wit collapsed into dread. His arms could only manage up to his chin as layer after layer of dust and debris pushed into his face and body. Everything piled into him. They stung his eyes easy and his skin charred to a sticky paste. All he could do was stand and wait for the smoldering thick odor of death to greet him.

"Over here!"

Claire's voice! It was Claire's voice! No…Claire couldn't be here. It was death. This was death's voice calling to him

"Hereee, big brotheeeeer!"

_

* * *

_His head and body bolted upward as he awoke but something soft held him from taking off. It was the soft flesh of human hands against his forehead and shoulders. They could undeniably feel his sweat.

He looked up, and immediately, the words "Thank God. She did spend the night" shot thorough his mind like a profession. Booze, wine…it would have seemed comforting but one swig in Jill Valentines arms had him talking.

"Are you alright?"

"A dream…"

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"It was…wrong. My sister.."

"Your sister's fine." She reassured him. "She's staying with a friend, remember?"

"…Yes…" He remembered.

It was dark all around him. Cool and comfortable. There was still the comforting gentle weight of her hands resting on him. When he looked up properly he saw she was leaning beside him from where he must have fallen asleep on the couch. When? He forgot.

"Jill…" He breathed. Her image was slightly titled and blurred. He struggled to find her at first. Where to look…her eyes…her face… "I'm going to be up for a while…" he said.

Her blue eyes quirked but eventually evened out to a smooth complexion of concern. Without pressing, she found one of his arms and held his hand. "I bet." She said kindly. "Wild dream?" she whispered.

"Wild nightmare.,," Her face deepened in a sympathetic response. It was warm and comforting. Steadily, Chris raised his head up more to get a better view. He looked mislaid.

"Want some coffee?" she asked "I couldn't sleep either."

He gave an off beat nod on his slightly pale face. "Yeah…" Once she gave him room he stretched himself up, feeling dizzy on his feet. The middle of his legs had no feeling as well as the front of his head.

"God I'm still a wuss. Of all the dreams I had…"

"C'mon." She patted his back as she led him to his kitchen apartment. "The only thing you still are is a horrible pilot."

Even though it felt extremely bizarre, he had laughed.

* * *

**END**

* * *

**AN: **Feedback is greatly appreciated. A dog doesn't know he's a good boy unless his owner tells him so, am I right? (bad analogy, I know.)

Anyway, please review!**  
**


	5. Beyond The Glass

* * *

**Chapter 5: Beyond The Glass  
**

* * *

At the best and worst of times, Jim Chapman liked to play director in his head .

The setting: severely bright ashen wax wall paper and tone dark tile plates. They "colored" the room in whole, brandishing bold emphasis on a sickly half-moon coating, extra courtesy of the molasses thick texture. Here, in this monochrome dimension was where menaces from infiltrators to traitors were attended to. It was here, where time moved slower and never seemed more precious than any other room.

The scene: Two figures were occupied with their eyes and therefore they were still. One sat while the other stood, his stance absorbed from what lay across. The two were separated from another side, by, in order: a large gray desk, a variety of square cut console screens and lastly a massive colorless window standing as the official border between the two quarters. In the quarter across from them, there was a man sitting bound to a chair and another one, unrestrained and facing him front on.

Action!Him and David---the observers suddenly balked. It was their lead man from behind the glass---the standing one. He had recently pulled his interrogate by the arms of his chair and emotionally blunt, rammed him to the wall, back first. An arm of the chair snapped off on impact and ricocheted in a violent abstract spiral toward the window.

**_BANG!_**

So deafening and short it would send a dog to tears. He and David were frozen in place with anything but coherent thoughts running through their heads. No doubt, this was the initial cause of their stir.

Even after the echo. Just looking at the glass...as miraculously intact the screen was, the hollow noise continued to resonate from another source.

"...Wood." Was all Jim could say. He reclined into his seat, the look of shock sinking away in his eyes, one pupil at a time. He cast a hand over his sight and wiped his face continually as if to dispel the scene from memory. "Wooden chair…" He mumbled. Breathed. "...jesus…" He failed to sit still. He shifted out of his seat against the protest of his still shaking skin. With as much concentration as half a madman, he placed one hand under the counter and the other atop for balance. Tongue bit, and his shoulders joining in rythym with fear, he fumbled underneath in search of a supposed switch.

David---the standing one---watched his comrade go on with a slow intake until at last, a tiny sound toggle was flipped. Immediately, the playback from the room across--cut out with a cough of static "thud" from all audio access points; intercom included.

David glanced from the speakers to his friend.

The Silence worked like slow magic on him. Jim stretched for his neck with a strained yip of relief. He slid his headset around until the twisted speaker foams rested below his chin and on the neckline of his rising chest. The soft cushion against his pulse did little to ease him on the inside. He swallowed and looked to David for a note but the gaze was returned wordlessly. Perhaps, words were not worth mentioning now.. They could both easily agree this was one of those places no one wanted to be in. And beyond the glass....

Beyond the glass, the prisoner had his head bowed slightly and their lead man was recomposing himself while talking aloud, caressing his right fist intimately.

The retired gambler retracted into his seat again. He would never set foot in that room no matter how fat the bribe. Rather, David responded in the opposite. He leaned body front closer to the window, crouching as far as the counter allowed him to study the scene. The thin line of his lips obscurely curled in a rafting fascination. It was no less of an indication.

As if expecting it soon, Jim felt a tapping weight on his shoulder. He didn't act on it right away. The switch could wait a few seconds for him to mentally prepare.

"You may need to turn that on."

Reluctantly, he reached under the desk, hands unfortunately in control.

* * *

"Are you going to deny it?"

He could not feel the bile rushing to his teeth as his throat gagged. His body, stiffened by confinement from the ropes and suddenly, he keeled, throwing himself forward and coughing up a mouthful of bright pink saliva. It spluttered to the floor in a mild splash, leaving no puddle but instead an imprint of some kind of sickening evidence now splotched between himself and the feet of another man.

A hand clutched the rear of his neck. He didn't feel it.

"Get a defibrillator ready, we might need it. …Something must have been kicking in before.. "

But he could think some---_Drugged._ He thought while panting. His shoulders shook as he tried to painfully slide back into his seat—but he staggered off-center too quick. To his slow surprise, he was guided with some assistance from the other man who reached and more or less pulled him by the hair.

_I'd been drugged...how long..._

The other man was watching him, even as he turned back to retake his seat from the far end of the room. The distance between them would suggest that a table once stood there. It did; it lay discarded to the side in pieces of splintered wood.

The other man cleared his throat, emitting a loud intentional tremble. He looked from the broken table to Billy.

"You're still going to deny it?"

He shrugged. A stupid move. Really, he was the one who needed answers. Having been constantly on guard with moderate fuss towards the agent---little was shared. Deniable on what was a true forewarning and what wasn't, in some facetious gratitude, wonder boy did inform him on tiny tidbits. then again, what was to be expected? What else was new in the world of the fabulous government? Everything was written in invisible ink. What he should have been thinking was "it was better than nothing" as the government was probably expecting those words in a written letter of reply, should he get out of this fucked up mess.

"Well?"

He tried to think of the agent again in a redeeming value while holding down the stare. It was wrong to say he wasn't polite for trying to ease some help and it wasn't right to mock him when he really was just doing his job, but he couldn't admit to any of those things at the moment. The poor kid had clouded his mind. The poor kid...

"WELL?"

At last, Billy Coen broke the stare.

"Wonderboy…" He mused past the stare of eyes. He sounded distant. "Maybe I should have saved some resolve for a bigger threat..."

The bigger threat, the other man, was Mark Wilkins. His muscular heavy build, esteemed coal black eyes and rash growl whenever barking orders or questions, be them all purely rhetorical, was his next obstacle.

Boy did Billy miss Wonderboy.

In the past, Wilkins name was all across the navy camps. The guy was a model of the top 500 and presently he was doing all of which had been described to meet said listed standard.

--All across the camps, this guy was one of the model soldiers that every young man aimed to be, but all Billy wanted to do was sock him upside the jaw.

There were the ropes and chair though. He could hardly feel himself from the waist up. His arms were air as was his head and stomach. He was so tired from the sedatives. There was that plus the narcotics---Some wonders those did when he was drugged for nothing. Yet there was this little thought within his conscious, and it didn't pop up until just now. With so many unanswered questions and irritating people on top of him, one right after the other, it wasn't a bad feeling to be off the swing set during all the chaos.

There was another thought, and it was the humor in it now. This Mark guy sounded like he was whispering when he was probably screaming till his lungs turned purple.

For Mark Wilkins however, there was only business in his mind. He jumped from his seat, impatience at its' max, and grappled his hands onto the top sides of the prisoners' seat. Vigoruslyquick, he twisted the bound fugitive to the floor.

The impact was all but slow and little.

* * *

David lifted his eyes up from his hands. They were scorched, bruised as if run against nails when he was only punched. He had a grim looking complexion on his face as he looked through the glass ahead of him, the kind of exposed expression of one unearthing the truth of something valuable. He nodded to himself quietly and then to his comrade sitting beside what looked like an operable desk for communication. Jims' mouth was once again slightly agape at the scene beyond the glass. Clearly, the gambler had never seen an interrogation handled by Mark before.

"Ok, turn it down for good. I think we heard enough."

Jims' response was delayed. He was obviously picturing himself in the prisoners place at some point in his rebellious past. "Yeah, but has he had enough?" was the muttered reply

"Turn it down, Jim."

"Okay…down." He gave a loud long sigh. "Man, he's ruthless." Jim breathed, his shaky breath a safe distance from the mike despite being off. Beside him, David stood half listening..

"Which one?" The plumber turned captain remarked snidely subtle. His words weren't particularly weaved with humor intent but Jim nodded wryly anyway.

"Man," The native wracked a hand over his balding head. "But seriously…"He looked to David, noticed his distant glance but went on anyway. This was David most of the time.

"Seriously what?"

"I mean….If I just had the nerve and guts…I'd give that scumbag just what he needs." He shook his head and hissed angrily as he turned back to the screens. "Seriously, this is disgraceful!"

"Yes I know.."

"Those people…those poor people…and that…..there was that girl right?" He slumped in his chair. "Just... You keep thinking of what Umbrella did....and then, you forget about all the other cruel things happening in the world. It's like a slap to your face. "

""You're right."

"A real shame…" Jim whispered.

David took the time to rest his eyes at the content cluttered before them. Most of it from a glance was all technological machinery, the majority all beyond his and Jims' comprehension of machines combined. But the newspaper clippings, profiles, and records squeezed on the side of a computer monitor, they could handle.

He fingered in the small space to retrieve a stack by the paperclip. His elbow slid against the screen causing the desktop to abruptly display. A blue screen flashed twice before a long run on sentence of white letters numbers--all bracketed---appeared stark in the middle. He looked back to the papers in his possession and flipped his attention to the front page. Technically, for lack of a better word, Jim could handle the retrieving while David utilized in the research.

His eyes caught a bold headline reading CONFIDENTIAL, just above a squared photo of a young red haired female in her teens. A brief summary of attributes that matched her profile was aligned to the far right. He wasn't particularly into the accuracy of the girls' identification. What bothered him was rather…personal. Most of the writing on the front page was crossed off in blue ink. The same blue ink that was scribbled in shorthand on many areas of the page. It was Yokos' handwriting, that was part of it, and most of it was in Japanese, but there also was another issue, and it lumped in along to his rising suspicions too perfectly. Simply, he had never seen this file before.

"Jim...did you crack this..?' He held the accounted document up, flipping the pages slowly as if to make a certain stance. Jim did not notice at first. He was busy working on one of the computers. When he did, he poked a short peak at it, quickly shaking his head at glance.

"Nope. Hadn't seen that one." He turned back to one of the sound consoles. "Why, what's up in there?" He threw out.

"…Nothing much." David thumbed the photo with his eyes.

About six years ago, when Kennedy was en route back to America, underground rumors had already been flooding on the remains of a supposed dead man being discovered in the debris of a burned out building. It was a hospital, located in a rustic and secreted part of South America. The death toll claimed almost all eight hundred of its inhabitants, both patients, and workers. One of them, was a girl defined as _Rebecca Chambers_.

He fingered through the pages only to see more blue scribbling. Yoko was passionate in this case on the few days he had seen her. Once connections were established between the girl and Umbrella, he remembered her mind sky rocketed into speculation land, something he should have found strange sooner. She began rounding everything on the kids' history, from schools to homeland locations, something that obviously required the attention of Alyssa Ashcroft. He skimmed down to find an American written address crossed and labeled deceased. It appeared contacts were not liable…

He pushed past a few pages. More notes, but more cross outs. He continued to scan, adding on a thorough examination as the scratch became more legible to him. The letters deformed into script on the remaining pages. Fine, bold, and looped script only a snide doctor could be conformed to.

_Stabilized. Submission not subject is being taken into consideration.  
_

_Transportation. still no reach on agreement. Notify inf. stat._

"What?"

Georges' handwriting? Yoko was pulling him into her work? Why him?!

"Kid? Kid, what are you doing out here!!?"

David didn't get to finish his train of thought. Something grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, shouting off the tangent of his ear

"Where the hell were you?!!"

Blond hair, angry blue eyes but no, it was not George…He stared off at Kevin Ryman instead.

Before he could work a reply, Jim set off on his own tangent. He shoved himself from his seat, throwing his headset aside as he yelled back.

"Ryman, first things first---What the HECK are you doing here?"

"…Kevin." David finally regarded.

"David?" He mocked. He waved off Jims' opening towards an explanation. He wanted to hear it from _him_. The one who told him he'd be out of plain sight for a time ranging from months to years.

"David---mind telling me what the fuck is going on here?" He smiled a smugly arrogant mask. He was pissed.

"Language." Jim muttered dryly.

David seemed distant as he searched for an answer.

"…Shit happens." and found himself agreeing completely to it.

"Ugh!"

Kevin scoffed, gesturing towards the glass."----Yeah I can clearly see tha--" He stopped shouting the moment he actually turned his head to where his hands were pointed. Through the glimmer of clear wall, there was Mark and a weary looking muscular man slumped against the wall. He breathed jaggedly, the profile of his right rising up against his chest, sporting an array of elongated letters in thick black ink. They spelled the words M-O-T-H-E-R-L-O-V-E

The welling anger depleted inside of him. A wave of greater confusion took on the drive in his voice.

"Holy shit! is that….?!" He sounded out of breath.

"The one and only." Jim finished through gritted teeth. Kevin stepped back…then forward. "..Where have you been?" The gambler perked up, sounding unintentionally comic.

"T-this is way too much... Just what is he doing here?!"

"Interrogation." They said. David, replying twice. Kevin paused for a moment to recuperate himself. He grasped the left side of his hip with the right.

"What? …Interrogation?" He swallowed twice this time, the second sounding like bemused laughter. "Here...?" David glanced an inquisitive look his way. Why was the rookie, the hot headed loud mouth of all people, laughing? Then again, why not. There was such a thing as smiling out of fear.

"Here?" Kevin repeated. His entire face looked twisted between hilarity and disbelief as he clutched one side of his rib with one hand and pointed roughly to the ground with his other hand. "Here... Here where the security is malfunctioning and our private army is just a bunch of half shitted rookies!"

Jim frowned before reasoning with him. "You've obviously been trapped in that training basement for too long, Kev. We got ourselves a SWAT fleet, now, there's no trouble."

"Now? Just now? As in just five minutes ago…?" He looked from Jim to David. No answer. It was Kevin's' turn to frown. The expression faded out as he sighed. "Neither of you bothered to tell me this…"

Jim stumbled shyly rubbing the back of his head. "Well ah…" He was cut off as David tossed the file he was holding into his lap and turned to Kevin, blocking his way between them.

"What's this about a security malfunction?" He more or less demanded.

"David?"

Kevin shrugged, summoning his anger. "Yoko said something about keeping a distance from the infirmary. Low lights…no electricity, no phone wires…"

David's' eyes narrowed. "Infirmary..? Is she in there?"

"Well _yeah_. She needed to check up on _something_!" Slowly his anger faltered once more. He looked aside, his voice wandering. "...Probably patients or some other smart science shit."

Jim stepped in tiredly. "Kev, there's no patients in there. It's a nurse's office in there. Not a hospital."

At this, Ryman blinked, and for once thought before speaking. He rubbed his neck. "But that's not what… ...!"

"Kevin Ryman!"

"…Shit."

Jim sighed into his hands at the brief sight of Alyssa. The blond entered with afire, one hand resting on her hip while the other pointed madly at Kevin with intoned physical action before routing out the others. He was relieved more than ever to have something between him and her unfaltering angry eyes. Unfortunately that wouldn't apply to his hearing.

"Where the hell---What are you all doing here?!"

She strutted on her toes to them, no than less than a few feet away from a literal lashing on the men, when David snatched her wrist. Kevin all but voluntarily reacted first, rising to the balls of his feet, arms close to separating the contact between the two.

"Hey! David!" He snapped

King ignored him. "We're busy". " He said while letting his grip drop. "We have no time to explain...and neither did you."

"Like I'll tell you." She retorted.

"No I'd like to hear from George himself."

"Alyssa! Everyone!" Kevins' eyes lit up in surprise at the familiar voice.

"Yoko! Thank god..!" He said while pivoting as fast as he could to grab hold of his good time friends' shoulders. But the back of her broad white lab coat was already facing him by the time he had his full body turned. The ex cop froze in motion, his eyes trailing to the far right of him. In the short time he had snapped a glimpse of her face. He did not recognize any noticeable features.

"Hey,...you're..."

Alyssa caught on quick. She darted past the stone cast David. "Wait...!" The girl in calling ducked in an almost defensive maneuver as she rammed her shoulder aside with her head. The reporter recoiled in confusion and mild disgust. "What are you doing?" she cried.

"Please, tell us what's going on here!" Jim pleaded to her fleeting form.

"Jim...! Jim!"

The gambler twisted in his seat, quick. A distant clack of heals had echoed strongly into the interrogation room. He looked to the entrance and was, immediately, very confused.

"What!?"

Kevin snapped his head up with wide eyes along with Alyssa. They both gasped soundlessly at the fair Asian woman humbled before them.

"Yoko?!" The doctor nodded breathlessly before eying for David. At once , the ex plumber sprung to life, swearing in his head when he should have expressed it.

_"Tch!"_ He couldn't move to grab the girl now. She had already breezed past him and the others too quick, and was now marking her way to the interrogation door at bullet speed. Forget it, he thought while dashing after her. She had already flown open the door (unlocked to her advantage) and was well close in the line of approaching Mark and the prisoner.

Just somehow, he managed to get to the door in time. Just inches behind her when luck cleanly defied him and the girl leaped ahead, the stolen lab coat she wore, flaring like the contained anxiety on her face. It burst.

" Sto-op!"

* * *

**END**

* * *

**AN: **I need to stop uploading chapters that still require some extra proofreading time. By accident, I listed the chapter title for six instead of five. Go me.

Anyway, sorry for the long wait! I hope you guys enjoyed it. This story is more or less a WIP (work in progress) fic so I apologize if there are parts where things seem fuzzy. I aim to clear the fuzz in this fic!

Feedback is always appreciated.


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Resident Evil, Drama, Suspense