Authors Note: My transitional chapters always feel odd to me, I don't know why. Lets get this show on the road.

The only reason you're still alive is because someone
Has decided to let you live

- KMFDM

December 31st, 2013

Leon sat on the roof of his apartment building, gazing out across Washington D.C as it celebrated the end of a turbulent year. He nursed a beer in his hand and hung his legs over the edge of the wall he was perched upon. Why would he fear sitting on the side of a 15 floor building, a death drop under his feet. He'd hung off the side of a skyscraper just months ago – to save a woman he loved and yet barely knew at all. Ada had had a piece of him for twenty years, a piece that defied logic or reason. Warning signs could spring up all around her, and yet he held on. There was just something about her, some would call him blinded. But when you were a person that spent your whole life saving others, it was hard to let go when someone turned the tables and saved yours. Ada had done that, more than once.

Their meetings in the field were always fleeting and intense, he always felt like he looked at her across a void. Like they were different sides of the same coin, never quite serving the same purpose. Their meetings away from the turbulent world of Bio Terror?

Intense was too casual a word. They never talked about work, the soldiers they were ceased to exist. They were just Leon and Ada, a guy and a girl with a chemistry that had never been matched. Not for him anyway. There was a reason no other woman ever compared, maybe that was the reason he couldn't let go. Maybe it was all physical. Or maybe it was because he couldn't have her. She was the only woman that eluded him, that didn't actively want to be his. And that drove him crazy.

He didn't know why he couldn't just move on, find happiness with someone else. There were no answers at the bottom of this bottle either – there likely wouldn't be at the bottom of the next one. After Tall Oaks and China, he was even more confused about this woman that had his heart. What was she? What he had seen on that video tape wasn't an illusion, it was real, that was her emerging from one of those pods. It made his stomach knot up to think about, all this time had he been lusting and fawning over a freakin' Bio Weapon? Wouldn't that just be the irony of the century.

He snorts to himself, taking a swig from his bottle and casting his gaze to the right as a firework shot across the sky. It wasn't quite midnight, but almost. He'd been invited to an office party and declined, these days he really preferred the quiet of solitude. His phone left in his apartment, nobody would think to look for him up here, he could be alone with his thoughts and his memories, he could drown them in peace.

Or so he thought.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it's dangerous to live life on the edge?"

Her voice floats over to him from somewhere behind him and his beer bottle hovers next to his lips. He blinks, hearing the steady click of her boot heels as she crosses the rooftop toward him. He feels the tingle up his spine, the hairs stand up on his arms and the back of his neck. He dips his chin, half turning his head, but not looking at her. In case he was imagining things again. It happened from time to time – echoes of the past could be a motherfucker.

"Only if someone's planning to push you off." He says, lowering the bottle and resting it on the wall, her footsteps draw to a halt and he finally turns enough to see her. He notices it immediately, a frown creasing his brow. "What happened?"

She folds her arms with a roll of her eyes, then gestures slightly to her neck. "This?"

"Yeah." He studies her, eyes narrowed.

Up the left side of her neck, what looked like a fairly recent burn scar.

"Lets just say I found the wrong answer to a bad question, and leave it at that." She gives him an answer without answering him at all, which was completely typical of Ada. His turn to roll his eyes, swigging his beer. He turns where he sits, facing her now, feet on the rooftop instead of dangling over nothing. She could push him backwards off of here and he'd stand no chance at all, should she want him dead for whatever reason. Instead she simply smiles, moving to sit beside him, he offers her a beer and she declines.

"So what brings you here? I would have thought you'd be at some fancy party somewhere, working somebody a lot richer than me." He looks at her.

She smiles. She wore a glittering red top and black leggings, thigh high boots that made her almost as tall as him. She looked expensive and beautiful, as always.

She considers his question for a while and that's strange in itself, she usually had quick answers for him. Something cryptic or scathing. Tonight she rubs her sparkling arms against the cold and looks out across the rooftop.

"That's exactly what I was doing, and then I realized something."

"What's that?"

"I realized I was really, really bored." She frowns a little and his eyebrow lifts. "Do you ever wonder where all of this ends?"

He lowers his bottle, a little fascinated. Was she drunk? "All the time. None of us are getting any younger."

"Hm." She hums thoughtfully, "Leon. I owe you an explanation."

He blinks, staring at her. "Am I drunker than I thought I was?" He asks.

"For what you saw on that tape." She continues.

He's silent, waiting.

"That wasn't me."

"Sure looked like you."

"It was one of Simmons' demented experiments. Tampering with the C Virus, effectively, he took one woman – implemented my DNA, and.. made his own Ada Wong."

Leon lets out a breath of a laugh. "Who was he to you?"

She lifts her eyes skyward. "A mistake. An expensive weekend on an expensive yacht thinking I'd learn valuable things. All I learned was that even men in the most responsible of positions can be completely and utterly insane." She laughs a little. "He became obsessed with me, and what he couldn't have."

"So he cloned you." Leon says flatly, "sounds like he took stalker to a whole new level."

"And then some."

"I'd call you a liar but.. nobody can be in two places at once. And you were." He studies her.

She nods. "Redfield and his little protegee were chasing Carla. It was her responsible for that madness, the woman Simmons used as a substitute for me. I almost feel sorry for her, being second best is never a nice feeling. But then she took crazy, vengeful bitch to a whole new level and any sympathy I had.." she waves a hand.

"Sailed out the window." He finishes.

She nods and looks at him, meeting his eyes. They hold for a few moments.

"So I haven't been sleeping with a Bio Weapon." He chuckles quietly, eventually.

Her sultry smile, that made his knees weak, spreads across her face. "Not unless you slept with Carla."

He tenses his jaw, thinking. "The last time we.. Hawaii, right?"

She nods. "Right."

"And that was last year."

"Then you are in the clear."

He lifts his bottle and takes a celebratory drink. "Good to know." He adds after he's swallowed it down. "So that's why you threw a flash grenade at me when I was trying to protect you from Hurricane Redfield." He says thoughtfully.

She laughs. "She did?"

"It was a whole.. Roadhouse showdown. He wanted to kill you – her.. I got in his way." he waves a hand, looking at her with a smile. "Good to know that wasn't the spit in the face I thought it was."

She smiles back gently. "I'm a lot of things, Leon. Evil advocate for the apocalypse is not one of them."

"So what is it that you do do?" He takes his chances.

She reaches out and plucks the bottle from his hand, lifting it to her own lips.

"You're a thief?" He asks with a quirk of his eyebrow.

She takes a sip and hands it back to him. "Sometimes."

They gaze at one another and as they do, midnight strikes. The sky above them lighting up in fireworks. They look up, watching the colors explode across the night. It's really quite beautiful. Leon looks from the glittering sky to her face, the shimmer reflected in her eyes. Not as beautiful as her.

Something shifted that night, some change in their dynamic. It was the very first time she'd ever offered information freely, or explained herself in any way. It implied trust – a trust he'd always had in her for whatever reason, but now he knew she felt it back. He didn't know why she wouldn't open up to him, but he would eventually.

That night they made love, and as he undressed her in his apartment bedroom, he discovered the burn scar travelled along her arm and slightly down her back. It was bad enough that she would wear it forever, and the once bold woman he knew – hesitated as he peeled away her sparkling top. He'd reassured her it was okay, and he'd taken his time. Kissed her scar, told her she'd always be the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

Whatever had happened to her, whatever she'd encountered in the months since Lanshiang, it had changed her. He fell in love with all of her that night, although he knew he'd always felt strongly for her. He liked to think it was reciprocated. The next night he took her out for sushi and she finally told him her real name. And on January 2nd, she vanished in to thin air.

2014 was a year that had started out as heaven, but swiftly turned in to hell. As he lost an entire SWAT team in a terrorist plot against D.C. With Ada gone and his mind in turmoil, he'd sunk to the lowest depth he ever had. He'd come so close to just ending it all, so close that when she returned to him, she found him standing on the edge, in the same spot he'd been on New Years Eve.

"If you jump, you know I'll come after you." Her voice had carried to him on the autumn breeze.

He'd looked over his shoulder at her, not quite believing she was even there for a moment. Maybe he was seeing things. Maybe he'd finally completely lost his mind. He'd laughed through the desperation and pain. "How do you always know when I need saving?" He'd asked.

She hadn't answered, she'd just held out her hand. "Come down. This isn't how it ends for us."

She was right. It ended a whole lot worse.

The smell of gasoline is the first thing that comes to him as he returns to consciousness. Gasoline, cold air, the prick of glass in to his skin. He blinks, grit in his eyes, coming to slowly but surely. He lets out a low groan and tries to move, his leg was pinned. Lifting his hand he rubs his eyes, trying to get his bearings. Trying to figure out where he was and what had happened. He was still in the truck, the truck was on its side. The window smashed under him and his arm pressed against the fractured glass.

He groans again, pushing against the steering wheel with his hand, trying to move it so he can get his leg free. The body of the truck had contorted somehow, the force of the collision must have been intense, they had rolled. He tries to look around, see where they had ended up. Snow on the ground, flakes falling outside and some of them drifting through Sherry's passenger window.

Sherry.

His heartrate quickens, looking for her. Where was she? The drivers side door was crushed inward, the window obliterated, there was blood on her seat. But she healed fast – really fast. Had she gotten out? Was she trying to radio for help?

"Sherry!" he calls out for her, not raising his voice too loud for fear of attracting airborne death, but enough that she should be able to hear him. "Sherry, you there?!"

No answer. He grits his teeth, slamming his hand against the wheel, whacking it a few times and then grasping, growling, shoving. Trying to move it from his pinned thigh. He gets some leverage and with a yell of effort, shifts it the fraction it needed for him to slip his leg free. The pain instantly surges through him and he hisses, collapsing to the side of the vehicle. Trying to move and sit himself up. "Shit." He hisses, panting against the pain as his blood began to spill on the snowy ground beneath the shattered glass. His lower leg was gashed open, the wheel had been acting as a tourniquet. He reaches to his utility belt and fumbles for the few medical supplies he always carried. Getting a strip of gauze, he ties it in a tight loop just above the wound, then uses the rest to bandage it. It would have to do.

"Fuck." He mutters various curses under his breath, his head thumped and touching his fingers to his temple, he finds blood there too. Just what he needed, a concussion in a car wreck. He tucks a hand in to the inside of his leather jacket and grabs his flask, bringing it to his lips after unscrewing the cap. The shot of whiskey burns his mouth and throat and sharpens him somewhat.

"Sherry!" he hollers a little louder. Beginning to grab at things to get some purchase, lift himself to his feet. He could climb out of the passenger window, get out of this wreck before it blew up. The gasoline smell wasn't fading away. Something was leaking somewhere. Still no answer from Sherry.

He growls and groans as he hauls himself to his feet, using the heel of his gun to smash out the last of the glass, he curls his hands around the edges of the metal frame and goes to lift himself up and out. The second he does, the screech of death pierces his ears. The skeletal rotting giant lands on the truck, its talons piercing through the window and missing his face by a whisper. He throws himself back to the ground, gritting his teeth. It caws and screeches again, smelling it's prey, it didn't know where he was. It could smell him. He flips his gun in his hand, heart thudding in his chest. Had one of these taken Sherry?

A fury rises in him and as the razor beak of the angel of death comes through the window at him, he fires three rounds. "Fuck you!" he snaps at it. It shrieks and recoils, then angrily strikes back, talons beginning to tear at armor and metal. It would pick this thing apart, it was almost the size of the truck as it was. He thinks fast, breath coming in quick pants. Swiftly he unravels the bandage around his leg wound and it instantly smells his blood. As soon as he has it's attention he begins moving, crawling past the driver seat, he hesitates, reaching back and snatching the radio from the console as the head and hooked beak strike at his hand. He fires another shot and all it does is anger the creature. But it does what he wants it to do.

"Come on, you ugly fuck." He hisses as he crawls backwards, making his way to the rear of the truck. The bird tries to chase him, forcing itself through the small window. It wanted its revenge and it wanted its dinner. His back hits the rear window and he elbows the fractured glass. It doesn't move. He twists and fires another two shots at it, creating more holes. He turns himself, his back to the cawing death behind him. It was struggling, scratching, biting at him. Its razor beak snapping just inches behind his head. He braces against the back of a seat and begins kicking the glass, slowly smashing his way through. The entire truck rocks as the bird forces it's way further in, he could smell the death on its breath. The stink of rotting meat and decay. With a final thump, the window gives. He eases himself out, on to the snow covered ground. Scrambling free of the wrecked truck he staggers back and onto the road. The giant, deformed creature half in and half out of the wreckage.

He spots the pool of gasoline he could smell. Lifting his gun.

"Hey.. Tweety.." he shouts at the cawing freak. Then fires.

The truck explodes, and the screams of the monstrous creature would probably alert others from miles around. But it was satisfying to watch it burn. He doubles over, getting his breath, then stands to look around himself. They were close to the town the distress signal was coming from, he could see the backs of buildings from where he stood. He needed cover and he needed it fast, so he gets moving as he reloads his gun. The fire and the burning flesh would hopefully attract any others attention before he did, but the smell of his bleeding wound was a problem.

He leaves a trail in the snow behind him – not ideal. Limping his way quickly toward the town.

He practically feels its eyes upon him. He looks behind him and up to see the shadow looming in the sky. It was hunting him like a hawk would hunt a mouse. He grits his teeth and moves faster, breaking in to the best run that he could. He hears the beat of its wings and the sudden shriek of its call and he throws himself down and rolls through, it's swiping talons missing him by inches. He rolls on to his back and fires upward, hitting it, piercing its wing. It throws it off balance slightly and it swoops upward. He dashes to his feet, ignoring the pain, running.

He hears another thud, looking behind him. Its landed, its snake like tongue tasting his blood gathered on the snow. It looks up at him with sharp, shark like eyes. Like staring in to the soul of evil. He keeps going.

Thud thud thud.

It runs and takes off, the heavy woosh of its wings unmistakable. He suddenly veers right, and it swoops and misses him again. An angry scream follows him. He snatches a metal rod from the ground as he vaults what was once part of a wall, he feels it coming again. This time he turns to face it, determined, he brandishes that steel like a baseball bat. "Batter up, fuckface." He snarls as it swoops toward him, he swings, smashing it around the head with a satisfying crack. It tumbles out of the sky and rolls into the snow. Dazed.

He bolts. Charging toward the nearest door he could see. He leaps the remains of a car and hears it getting up, screeching, angry. It knocks that car out of the way and lunges for him. He throws himself through the open door, pins his back to the wall and slams it shut with his feet, sliding the bolt swiftly. A second later, the predator slams against it. He yells in pain, the wound in his leg was agony. But he holds. He braces with everything he's worth. It pounds against the metal, Leon clenches his eyes shut, praying it would give up. That the bolt would hold, that his legs wouldn't quit on him.

Silence.

He pants, waiting. Waiting for it to pick up it's fight. For it to try again.

Nothing. His head flops back against the wall, getting his breath and processing the pain. He takes a few deep lungfuls of air and then examines his wound. More gauze, he patches it up without lowering his leg from the door. The only thing working in their favor with these creatures was their attention span. As soon as something else shiny caught their eye, like a Magpie, they were off to investigate. Though he was sure it wouldn't be far away, they were also cunning. They waited. Like that monster that had waited for Shiri.

He covers his mouth for a second. Fearing he might throw up.

Leon had never really been afraid of the undead, or of the countless Bio Terrors insane scientists had dreamed up in labs. He'd never felt the kind of core trembling terror most would when confronted with such things. You got used to it, it just became another monstrosity he had to deal with and take down. But these things? They terrified him. They didn't used to, but ever since they took his love and his unborn child – he couldn't describe it any other way. Fear. Horror. A sickness in his stomach.

Had one taken Sherry now too?

He bows his head, lacing his fingers behind it and closing his eyes. He prayed she was somewhere, sheltering. Finding safety. He couldn't lose her too. There was no time to think about it now, he begins getting himself together. A swig of whiskey from his flask, he digs the radio out of the back pocket he'd put it in to. Fiddling with buttons, technology had most definitely gone backwards. Cellphones were too hit and miss to take out on missions, and were barely used at all these days anyway. They relied on good old fashioned radio and what internet still worked.

He radios home, and wills someone to answer his call.

Nothing but static.

He adjusts a setting and tries again. After three attempts, finally, someone picks up.

"Leon? Its Jill... What happened, the distress signal vanished. So did your vehicle tracker."

He sighs, relieved but surprised to hear her voice. "They called you in?"

"I was kinda listening in to the radio chatter, I heard your tracker went down and..." she trails off. She didn't need to say it.

He nods and then flops his head back against the wall. "Something hit us. I don't know, a larger vehicle slammed into us from the side, tipped us over, took out the whole truck. Knocked me unconscious." He chews on his lip, guilt racking him. "When I came to, Sherry was gone."

He can hear the talk on the radio, people throwing information at Jill. He hoped they had something useful.

"The distress signal disappeared right around the time your tracker stopped moving." She responds after a moment, "think it was some kind of ambush?"

He considers this, drawing a deep breath. "Ambush for what? Why would they.." he trails off. "Why would they take Sherry and leave me?"

An awful feeling settles in his stomach. They knew there were groups of people that lived beyond the settlements. Groups he'd mocked in the past, calling them ridiculous for pretending like they were living out a Mad Max fantasy or something. But they existed, they were real. What would they want with a beautiful young woman?

"Shit." He mutters.

"Don't assume the worst." Jill tells him quietly.

"No the worst is one of the birds out there got her and she's dead." He answers grimly.

"Has there been activity?"

"There was one waiting for me when I woke up. I blew it up.." he chews his lip. "The truck was beyond salvaging anyway so I trapped it in there and shot out the gas tank... then another chased me to where I'm camped out now. It's still out there."

It's Jill's turn to curse.

"We'll get on the radio to the other settlements, and the Agents out there. See if anyone's seen or heard anything about a group carrying out raids." She pauses, "someone's got to know something."

He nods, rubbing his forehead. "Has anyone told Jake?"

"Nobody has heard from him. We tried to get through but no answer." Jill sighs. "Where are you?"

"The town we were headed for, barricaded in..." he glances around, then laughs limply, "what looks like it used to be a bar."

"Hold on. I'll come get you."

"Jill.." he stops her, "you sure you're ready to come out here?"

"I'm not losing you too." She says flatly.

He nods, not that she could see it. "Then bring firepower. Lots of it."

"Way ahead of you."

Two hours later, Leon remains in his position with his legs braced against that door. He'd heard a scuffling outside, he was sure it was still lurking around somewhere. He could practically feel it. He was freezing cold, shivering, his arms wrapped around himself and his breath swirling in front of him in misty wisps. The winter sun was going down and as it did the temperature was plummeting. He'd radioed home a half an hour ago, they told him Jill was almost there – and that they hadn't heard anything about Sherry so far.

He had to hope. Hope that she was alright somewhere, that one of the birds hadn't gotten her and if someone had taken her she could hang on. They would find her, somehow. Someone had to know something.

The sound of a trucks engine rouses him from his thoughts and he lifts his head. It's only once he begins to move that he realizes just how numb his body is. His legs ached, the wound in his calf throbbed, but he forces himself to finally get up. Drawing his gun he cautiously slides back the bolt of the door, easing it open a fraction at a time. He peers outside, the coast seemed clear. So with a deep breath he sneaks through, moving on ghostlike feet out in to the snowy street, he checks one way, then the other. Spotting Jill at last. The relief he felt was immeasurable and they exchange a hand gesture of acknowledgement as begins making his way toward the truck.

He watches her expression change the closer he gets, and glances behind himself. The shadow on the snow. He looks up as Jill wrenches a rifle from the back seat and gets out of the truck, taking aim.

"Leon! Move!" She yells at him. The monster hears her voice and lets out a chilling screech. He breaks in to a limping run as Jill fires three shots at the beast that stalked him. It wails in the sky, crashing to the snowy ground and rolling. It wasn't dead – nobody they knew had ever taken one out with guns alone. It was like they swallowed them. Gunfire just brought you time.

Jill keeps her gun trained on the creature as it staggers and picks itself up, unfurling its wings again. Leon reaches the truck, yanking open the passenger door and hauling himself inside. Jill fires another round between the birds eyes as it attempts to take off, then quickly climbs into the car, chucking the rifle in to his lap and slamming the vehicle in to gear, reversing.

The decaying wretch picks itself up, runs three steps and takes to the air as Jill switches gears, tires skid on the snow as she turns them, slamming her foot down, they hit the road out of town and toward home. Death hot on their tail.

"Here.."

Leon looks over to her and she hands him a grenade. It makes a smirk drift over his face. "I like the way you think."
She turns a quick wink to him and he moves himself, opening the passenger door as they tear down the road. He balances, hooking his foot under the seat, holding on to the roof of the truck as the predator swoops in to strike. Predictably, it opens it's beak to let out that chilling caw, and as it does he pulls the pin with his teeth and makes a precision throw from the moving vehicle. Sending the grenade right down the gullet of the winged menace. It chokes and gags and tumbles from the sky and as they speed away, it explodes.

Leon holds on, watching as the hunter is engulfed in flame and burns away on the side of the road. His gaze shifts to the small town as they leave it behind. If Sherry had been hidden somewhere, she would have heard them, she would have come out at the sound of the engine.

He eases back in to the truck and pulls the door closed, looking to Jill.

"No sign of her?" He asks quietly.

"Nothing." Jill confirms, looking to him. "You're hurt.."

"My leg, it'll be alright." He nods wearily.

"And you're freezing."

"I dunno, barbecue kinda warmed me up." He quips, lifting his hands and blowing on them, his breath helping to warm his frozen fingers. Leather gloves did very little to guard against the cold.

Silence falls over them as she drives. Leon lets his head fall back against the seat, closing his eyes for a moment. He never used to be much for prayer, I mean who was listening that could allow the world to end up the way it had? But sometimes it was all you had. That hope, that will, that things would turn out okay. He lowers his chin, gazing out of the window as the country rolled by, blanketed by snow, glittery in the dusk.

"Hang in there, kid." He murmurs. She wasn't dead, he felt it. Whoever had her, they'd find them. Get her back. He had to hope.

Jill hears his mumbled prayer above the sound of the truck and she glances over to him, a sad smile drifting across her face. He had that haunted look on his, she knew it well. The look of a person that had seen and lost too much, couldn't bear to lose anyone else. Hesitantly, she reaches out and slips her hand over his knee. Leon lifts his head from the window, a little surprised by her gesture, he meets her eyes.

"She'll be okay." She reassures.

He simply nods. "I hope you're right."

Jake sat on the top of a water tower at one of the furthest edges of the city perimeter. It was cold, but his layers of hoodie and leather jacket protected him. He gazes out through the shimmering layer of protection that guarded them from the horrors beyond. His knees drawn up and his elbows resting on them.

It was getting dark, and he'd been sitting up here most of the day. What a way to start a brand new year.

He looks away from the slightly obscured mountains and to his hands. Between his fingers, he twists a ring. Glittering in the dying light. He sighs, then rolls it into his palm, closing his fist around it and bringing that fist to his lips.

It was the biggest decision of his life. He was ready.

Leon Kennedy kept on telling them they had to build a future, or the fight for now was pointless.

Time to make it up to her.