Queen Luana: I'll start of with saying thanks again to the people who wrote positive reviews for Never send a man to do a woman's job and urged me to write a prequel/sequel. I don't think I'll be writing a sequel, unless a real great idea pops into my mind all of the sudden. The things is, Alex' story is finished. All her actions revolved around one thing: John's death. So since that's settled now, all I can do is give you the events leading up to those in RE4. I'm not going to do this chronologically. (Cliffhangers baby, muahahaaa). There'll be some jumping back and forth. Anyway, enjoy more Alex!

Also I'd like to dedicate this to my friend Kirsten, whose boyfriend died a few days ago in a car accident. They'd been dating for a little over three years.

Washington

I took a deep breath and urged the beating of my heart to ease. Swinging my flashlight around I marched forward, but the darkness was overwhelming. I halted when I hear a twig break behind me. I spun around, flashlight clutched tightly in both my hands and aimed it into the dark. Nothing there. "John?" I asked hoarsely. No response. Where was he? Where was I? "John?" I called his name again, louder this time.

Something was moving along the trees but it was too dark to see. A murder of crows burst into the air not too far away from me and I saw a flash of black out of the corner of my eye. "John… Help me…"

Growling. Leaves rustling. Branches snatching. Something big jumped up against my chest and smacked me against the earthy ground. The flashlight landed a couple of feet away from me and went dim. The dog barked and a stench of rotten flesh consumed me. It growled and dug its teeth deep into my neck. Warm blood rushed out and I screamed waving my arms trying to push it away, crying John's name. More of them came rushing through the trees, tore at my legs and arms, ripping flesh from bone. "John!"

"Why didn't you help me, Alex?" More barking.

"John," I whispered and desperately reached out to the dark figure leaning over me as the dogs devoured me piece by piece. "I'm so sorry, John… I'm sorry…"

My eyes flashed open and I gasped for breath. Second by second, I grew aware of my location, found that I had dozed off on the couch, TV still turned on now showing some cheesy sitcom. My head was buzzing with pain and I pressed my fingers against my temples. Every night the same dream…Wearily I found my cell buzzing on the coffee table and with a groan I took it, accidentally knocking off an empty martini bottle, which fell on the ground and rolled over the carpet, making so loud a noise it made me cramp up painfully, grabbing my head, before finally flicking open my cell. "This is Grace."

"Grace, how are you doing?"

I groaned. Wilkins. Not my number one voice to hear when I get up. "Hungover." I got up and sauntered over to the bathroom. When's that damn room gonna stop spinning?

"Well, I hope you're dressed. A car is sent to pick you up. He'll be there in fifteen minutes."

I checked my watch. Eight thirty. "Wha-?"

"You've been given a new assignment. You have to leave for Washington, pronto."

I rummaged through the drawers underneath the sink, looking for some aspirin. "Washington? Are you kidding me?"

"Mister president asked for you specifically." Annoyance lurked in his voice.

I slammed the drawers shut. "Come again?"

"I'll brief you when you get here. Just make yourself presentable. Don't embarrass me again. This wasn't my call to begin with."

I flicked my cell shut and watched myself in the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot and my dreads had been tied together in a messy pigtail. Well, if he really asked for me by name I guess my appearance won't matter that much. I splashed some cold water in my face. "Over six years…" I splashed some water at my reflection. "Pull yourself together. It's been over six years." I took off my shirt and smelled it. It stank of sweat, smoke and alcohol. I guess I can put on a clean shirt. I fully undressed and stepped into the shower.

The water splashed down on me and I closed my eyes. The president, huh? That probably means it's important. Boy oh boy, is my mum gonna be thrilled… Importance is mostly directly linked to mortal danger. I took a clean towel and wrapped myself in it. When walking back into the living room I passed the picture. The only remaining picture of John and I together. I'd torn up all the others. I sadly touched his face with my finger tip. Our last Christmas together. That holiday had never been the same ever since…

Why was it still hanging there? Everyday I forced myself to look at it. Or better yet… Why was I still living in his apartment? Yeah, I had inherited it, but why hadn't I sold it? Why was I still clinging on to all those painful memories? I slept in his bed, showered in his bathroom, watched sloppy romantic comedies on his television set. I cried in his couchions, passed out on his carpet, got drunk in his corners, of his rooms, of his apartment. Not only was I wrecking myself, I seemed to be doing it voluntarily as well. I sighed deeply and dropped the towel. After six years I still hadn't found the strength to let him go.

They rang when I was putting on some clothes and I glanced at the clock. 8:43. "Don't you people know what fashionably late is," I groaned into the intercom.

The cab driver was far too optimistic for his own wellbeing. He filled up the entire ride with small talk about how exciting it must be to be an agent, if I'd prevented many terrorists from killing hundreds of people etc. The kid had a problem and my headache only seemed to have gotten worse by the time the car took a left and drove onto a small private airport where an airplane was waiting.

I groaned painfully when the driver slammed the door shut. My head's going to implode… A friendly face was waiting by the steps leading up into the plane. "Aidan," I greeted Wilkins' assistant.

He held out a glass of water and dropped an aspirin in it. I took it with a smile. "Thanks."

"Hop on, Wilkins' pissed enough already. Don't want to make it worse by being late."

"So what's this all about," I asked him. "Another anti-terrorist assignment?"

"The order comes from the president himself," the sturdy thirty year old said and leaned back in his chair. "So I believe it's a little more delicate."

"I see." I lit a cigarette.

"You can't smoke on a plane, Alex…"

"So why me?" I said and took a drag.

Aidan shrugged and folded his hands on his lap. "I'm not sure. Wilkins had first suggested Leon Kennedy for the job, but the president insisted on sending you."

A grin spread on my face. "Mister president has good taste." I placed my feet on the table between us and took another drag. "How does he know me?"

"I don't know, Alex," he sighed. "Wilkins just called me to tell me to come pick you up and take you to Washington. In chains if I had to. And to tell you you better control that smart mouth of yours in front of the president or you'll be doing overtime for the next ten years scrubbing toilets."

I chuckled. "I always liked him."

"Fancy living in a place like this, huh?" I said to Aidan when we marched through the classy polished hallways of the white house. Then again, I don't think I'd appreciate coming home every day only to have a handful of men dressed in black jumping at me, searching my pockets, taking my fingerprints and checking me with a metal detector. I think the fun wears off after a while.

Our escort lead us to a separate room where Wilkins was pacing back and forth, one large vein pumping on his forehead, four cigarette butts still smouldering in the metal ashtray on the table set in the middle of the room. He didn't see all too happy when he saw me. "Well at least you aren't late, I guess," he said, lit another cigarette and sat down on one of the chairs by the table. "Sit down. Matthews, get me some coffee."

Aidan sighed deeply and closed the door as he walked out. If possible, he stood even lower on Wilkins' chart of lower lifeforms than me.

"I'll cut to the chase, Grace," he said and offered me a cigarette. "I don't like you being here. This is a mission of the utmost importance. I wanted Kennedy but the president asked for someone that's willing to take a risk and that won't stop for anything to reach his goal. Sadly enough, your name was the first that came to mind."

"I thought you said you were cutting to the chase, Wilkins," I said and took a drag. "Don't waste my time."

"You mind your arrogant mouth, Grace," Wilkins hissed cheeks flushing. "You know Ashley Graham?"

"Yeah, she's the president's daughter. Why?"

Wilkins passed me a file across the table. "She's been kidnapped and has recently been spotted in a small village in Spain."

"Spain? Maybe she's just taking a break."

"Very funny, Grace." Wilkins snatched the cup of coffee of Aidan's hand, spilling some on his pants. "Aw shit, don't just stand there and get me a towel."

Aidan sulked back out of the room and I sniggered. "So, I just have to get her back huh? That's what all the fuss was about? Couldn't you just tell me over the phone?"

"This assignment has top priority, Grace," Wilkins said and took a slug of coffee. "This is serious. We don't know what their motives are for kidnapping Miss Graham, but the fact that they managed to transport her all the way to Spain clearly means they have to be taken seriously."

"Have you considered there might be an insider?" I said and ticked some ashes off the tip of my cigarette.

"Of course we have," Wilkins barked, "don't tell me how to do my job."

Boy, he really didn't like me being here.

"Listen, Grace, and listen well, if she comes back with anything more than bruised kneecaps I'll have your ass fired, got it?"

"You always phrase things so vividly, Harold," I smiled sweetly.

The door opened and a tall dark man peeked inside. "Alex Grace?"

I waved. "That's me."

"Mister President wishes to meet you."

Wilkins paled and I put out my cigarette with a smile. "What a privilege."

"Alex! You listen to me!" Wilkins kept ranting while we followed to bodyguard to the president's office. "Only God knows what I'll do to you if you don't watch your mouth!"

"You know threats don't work on me, Wilkins," I smiled.

He ran his fingers through the few locks of thin white hair he had left and watched in fear how the man lead us into the oval office. It was just how they always portrait the president's office on tv. A long wooden desk in front of high window gazing over the park behind the white house. The floor was covered with expensive looking carpet and the walls were made of polished wood.

Mister President was sitting behind his desk, hands covering his face, and tilted his head when he we entered. "Alex Grace, Mister President," the man introduced me.

"Thank you," President Graham said. "Miss Grace, your reputation precedes you."

"It's an honour sir," I said and heard Wilkins biting his nails feverishly.

"I'm glad you came immediately," he said and stood up from his desk. He seemed much shorter in real life and much older as well. But perhaps worry was just bringing him down. "That fool suggested Leon Kennedy, I know Leon Kennedy, miss Grace. He's much too just for his own good."

I knew I'd made the right choice voting for him.

"Mister President," Wilkins tried to interfere yet again, but much more quietly. The pitbull had suddenly turned into a little baby chihuahua. "I can assure you, Kennedy is more than capable…"

"I need someone who's willing to go all the way," Graham said loudly and Wilkins quietly shuffled backwards again, muttering apologies, "who'll stop at nothing to bring back my daughter."

"I'm your girl, sir," I said with a smile. Beat that, good for nothing Kennedy.

"Don't get me wrong, Miss Grace," Graham said now walking over to me. "Just because you have the capacities I'm looking for doesn't mean I like you." Wilkins hasn't kept his trap shut, then. "If my daughter is done any harm due to your actions, I'll personally make sure that you are locked away and forgotten about for the rest of your life, do I make myself clear?"

I smiled. "Crystal clear."

We locked eyes for a few more seconds then he raised a quivering hand to his face. "She is all I have, Miss Grace. I can't afford to lose her. You, of all people, must understand that."

Wilkins merely coughed.

Queen Luana: Review if you'd like.