A sleek black sedan rumbled down the quiet suburban street, barely interrupting the lazy Sunday afternoon. There were children leap-frogging over a fire hydrant in front of one of the lawns, while their father sprayed a steady stream of water over a sud-soaked minivan and their mother watched from her garden nearby. Helena Harper briefly acknowledged the scene of domestic tranquility before turning to the driver of the vehicle.

"Why'd we have to take the work car, again?" she asked him, though she already knew the answer. She had to make conversation before the vision of that family running for their lives from a legion of undead could fully play out in her head.

"Because," Special Agent Leon Kennedy replied, "we're here on official business."

"Yeah, she muttered, glancing back to the family enjoying another quiet day of suburban bliss. "Hey, do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Not at all."

"Do you ever..." She paused, trying to articulate what she was feeling. "Do you ever wonder if..." Helena shook her head, trying to banish the thought of freshly zombified children feasting on their parents. "How do you keep... what we do, the stuff we've seen..."

"What are you trying to say?"

She sighed and just spat it out. "How do you keep it from affecting you?"

He stared straight ahead for a few moments, continuing along the street, before answering.

"I don't," he finally said, and she could tell he understood exactly what was going through her head.

"Then how do you deal with it?" she clarified. "How do you keep on going?"

"Because," he answered, "I'm a survivor. And so are you, Helena. Moving on is what we do."

She sighed. "Doesn't make it any easier."

They were about fifty yards from their destination at this point, so she stayed quiet until the car creeped to a stop. They exited simultaneously, and she actually beat him to the door by a few steps, but allowed him to ring the doorbell.

They both knew why they were here. President Adam Benford had been the leader of the United States far longer than the Constitution had previously allowed. With the escalating threat of bio-terrorism, some hasty amendments had allowed him to stay on as a wartime leader in what had fast become the most widespread and horrifying threat the world had ever faced.

A few days ago, that presidency had come to an end when he fell victim to a bio-terrorist attack orchestrated by his own National Security Advisor, Derek Simmons. He had been infected by the time they found him, and Leon had done what he had to do. There was a lot of fallout from that decision, not the least of which was the reason they were here.

After all, somebody had to notify his next of kin.

"Leon!"

A blonde-haired, one hundred and ten pound bundle of excitement nearly tackled Special Agent Kennedy where he stood, but he recovered his balance just in time to awkwardly return the hug. Helena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Leon and physical affection were like zombies and fire. She shook her head before her mind could continue with that analogy.

"Hey, Ashley," he greeted as soon as she released him. "This is Special Agent Helena Harper."

"Pleased to meet you," Ashley Graham, the late President's daughter, said as she extended her hand. Though he was her father, her mother had remarried and Ashley had taken her surname when she was young, or so Leon had explained it.

Helena shook it. "Likewise."

"Mind if we come in?" asked Leon.

"Of course," she said, moving inside. "You're lucky I already had a pot of tea going."

"You knew we were coming," he reminded her. It was true. He had actually remembered to call first.

"Yeah, yeah, I meant before you called."

The two of them took a seat on the couch while Ashley emerged from the kitchen with a full tea set and placed it on the coffee table.

"I'm assuming you already know why we're here," Leon said, and her smile slowly faded away as she sat down in the chair opposite.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "I found out about the attack from the news, of all places. And right then I knew... I knew there was no way he'd gotten out." She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, whatever youthful innocence Helena thought she might have witnessed earlier had disappeared behind a steely, resolute mask. "I'm just glad you two did."

"We're just here to let you know the details on what happened," he said calmly, and she was struck by how... empathetic he was being. Then again, he was personally acquainted with Ashley, so maybe he just knew how to act around her. "You can stop us if it gets too upsetting at any point."

"I've had my time to grieve," she insisted, giving him a firm nod. "Lay it on me."

The girl was made of sterner stuff than she had first thought, Helena reflected. She saw something familiar in Ashley's eyes that clued her in as to why. Those were the eyes of a survivor.

"Your father was going to reveal the truth about Raccoon City to the world," Leon began. "One of his advisors orchestrated a bio-terrorist attack to silence him. He was already infected by the time we found him."

He looked guilty as he spoke his next words. "I'm the one who shot him."

Ashley considered his words for a few moments before swallowing and replying. "Well at least you were able to end his suffering." She looked to Helena. "And keep him from doing something bad."

She nodded. "He did. The President was coming at me and I hesitated. If Leon hadn't taken the shot, I wouldn't be here right now."

Helena looked away. "But that still doesn't change the fact that I'm responsible for what happened."

Ashley raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"She was coerced into leaving the President vulnerable to the attack," Leon answered before she could say anything. "They were holding her sister hostage. The official investigation into the incident cleared her of all guilt."

"In the eyes of the law, at least," Helena muttered.

Ashley said nothing and looked down at her hands.

"Do you mind if I use the bathroom, Ashley?" Leon asked, and she nodded.

Helena pleaded with her eyes for him not to leave her alone with Ashley, but he left all the same. She glared after him.

"So, Miss Graham..." she began awkwardly.

"Doctor, actually," Ashley corrected, smiling patiently.

"I see. Doctor of what, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Clinical Psychology," she answered, grabbing some tea off the platter now that it had cooled sufficiently and taking a sip. Helena did the same. "I think you were about to ask a question?"

Somewhere in the last few sentences, she realized, Ashley had somehow gained control of the conversation.

"I was just going to ask how you know Agent Kennedy."

"Oh, that." She set her tea down on the serving tray. "I was kidnapped when I was younger and taken somewhere in Europe. Some rural backwoods village in Spain, I think. Leon was the agent sent in to rescue me."

"Sounds like a pretty traumatic event."

"It was," Ashley confirmed. "Especially since the people who kidnapped me were creating bio-organic weapons using an ancient parasite known as Las Plagas. They infected me as part of some sort of international power play and they got Leon too. We managed to find a cure and he dismantled the whole operation in the process. It's been about nine years, now."

"And you got your degree after that?"

Ashley nodded. "I'm pretty sure you can imagine the amount of therapy I had to go through after something like that," she explained. "But there wasn't anybody who really understood what I was going through other than Leon, and getting emotional comfort from him is like wringing water from a stone."

"He seemed pretty empathetic earlier," Helena pointed out.

"Only 'cause we know each other so well." She grabbed some tea again and leaned back in her chair. "Anyway, my trauma was relatively unique at that point in time, before bio-terrorism became a widespread thing. Sometimes it takes someone who's gone through a similar event to really understand you, and I didn't really have anybody like that who was qualified to help me."

Helena nodded. Recent events had proven to her just how traumatic a bio-terrorist attack could be. Even she had not escaped unscathed.

"I wanted to change that," Ashley continued. "So I went to school and got my doctorate, and now I help provide counseling to people who have lived through bio-terror attacks, including members of FOS and the BSAA."

Agent Harper felt her smile drop as something occurred to her. "We're not actually here for you, are we?"

The blonde woman giggled. "Leon likes to think he's subtle, but he's more obvious than a brick through a window. He's worried about you."

"And since he knew I'd never agree to therapy under normal circumstances, he set this up," she surmised. "Well played."

"It's entirely optional, and we don't have to start right away," Ashley reassured her. "And FOS is covering all of the billing, so you don't have to worry about that. I'd even do it for free if Leon hadn't insisted on me getting paid."

"What makes you think I even need therapy?"

She answered her question with another. "What happened to your sister?"

"She..." Helena trailed off, not having expected that question. "She was infected by the C-Virus. We were forced to put her down. I avenged her death by killing the man who did it to her."

"That's not something you can go through and not need to talk about it," she said. "What Leon's told me about your behavior lately matches up with symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. You're not completely shell-shocked, but you could still benefit from having someone to talk to."

"You take Leon's word for everything?"

"Of course not, and I'm not doing this for him," Ashley insisted. "You went through a psych evaluation as part of your debriefing, right?"

"Yes, but how did you..."

"Because it was in my hands within 24 hours and it's back at my office right now," she answered. "And before you ask, I do have the security clearance, thanks to the unique nature of my patients. Or did you not think it was odd that you and Leon were authorized to divulge top secret information regarding my father's death?"

Now that Helena thought about it, Simmons' involvement had been classified after the incident. She had really just been following Leon's lead on this, and figured the President's daughter deserved to know the truth. That the woman had the clearance to know these things had never entered her mind.

"Your file says you've been looking at otherwise ordinary situations and imagining how zombies could ruin them at any moment," she said. "That's symptomatic of paranoia, and even though you do a pretty good job keeping a lid on it, it's still there."

Helena said nothing.

"On top of that, you still hold yourself responsible for the President's death even though, officially, you're in the clear. And I can't really tell how deeply your sister's death affected you, but it's clear you're suffering some form of survivor's guilt."

"He was your father," she rebutted. "And I abandoned my post. Whether I was coerced or not, it doesn't change the fact that he died because I didn't protect him."

"He died because one of his advisors orchestrated a bio-terrorist attack. If you'd been in the room with him, it's likely you would have been infected as well. And you avenged his death as well as your sister's, so the only thing really holding you back at this point is the fact that, psychologically, you can't let go of it."

She smiled. "But if it helps, I don't hold you responsible. I forgive you, even if you won't forgive yourself."

Helena had to stop her jaw from dropping. The one person she needed to hear it most from...

"I'd like to help you, Agent Harper," Ashley continued, leaning forward and looking her straight in the eye. "If you'll let me."

She sighed and buried her face in her hands. "Fine," she acquiesced. "But only if you call me Helena."

Ashley smiled. "Deal."

It was at this time that Leon returned from the bathroom. Helena punched his shoulder as soon as he sat down.

"Ow!" He rubbed the sore spot. "What was that for?"

"You could have just told me to get therapy."

"Would you have listened?"

"Not really."

Ashley giggled and leaned back in her chair. "Your tea's getting cold, Leon."

"Oh, right." He grabbed it and took a sip to placate her, then set it back down.

"So," said Helena, "are you two going to tell me all about your grand adventure or do I have to beat it out of you?"

Leon leaned away from her out of reflex, but Ashley simply laughed and began to tell her the story.

A couple hours later, they were walking down the sidewalk to the sedan. Ashley waved them goodbye after having given Helena her card and setting up an appointment for the following week.

"So rescuing cute blondes from mortal danger is kind of your thing, isn't it?"

Leon blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, Agent Birkin fits that description too, don't you think?"

He rolled his eyes as he walked around to the driver's seat. "Not all the women I rescue are blonde."

"Not true," she replied, opening the door on her side and sliding in. "You didn't actually rescue me."

"I saved your life quite a few times, if you recall."

"And I returned the favor. You couldn't have saved the day without me."

He turned the keys in the ignition. "You'll notice I'm not denying that."

Helena laughed.

They drove off, and she noticed that the family she had spotted earlier was still in their front yard enjoying the freedom that the two of them had paid for. She sighed.

"You really did make a difference in her life, you know," she said. "Ashley's I mean. Thanks for introducing us."

"Ashley's a good friend," he replied. "I wanted you to get help from someone I trust."

"I appreciate that."

Just before they turned off the street, Helena glanced down at the business card in her hands, then placed it neatly in her pocket. She shook her head. For just a moment, she had imagined that same business card spattered in blood, held out in the hands of an undead therapist.

Maybe she needed help more than she was willing to admit.