Resident Evil: Symphony of Madness Chapter 11: Interlude II: Didn't Know, Didn't Know, a resident evil fanfic

Author's Note: Okay, dreadful questions that are prone to appear are ahead. This chapter makes the story take a turn for the worse, and why is that? Because of some even that takes place at midway. It might seem a little bit and incredibly sudden (lol) but it's got its explanation, which I will deliver eventually and perhaps a behind the scenes kind of thing. In the meantime, I am introducing another character which will be Wesker's future center of attention. Try and guess who she is (yes, it's a she; and no, it's not an OC). Hang on to your seats, gents; this is going to be a bit of a ride.

Disclaimer: The usual.

Interlude II: Didn't Know, Didn't Know

Gone

September 5th, 2009

I could've avoided this.

I could've avoided this whole mess, but I didn't. Instead, I turned my back on you just for my own sake… but I couldn't do anything else. She's got her, my little cousin… She's been tracking me since Atlanta… Remember that? When we went out… visited the city center? I don't know how she came to know about me, you… Oliver. B-but he's got nothing to do with this, I swear to God. She knew who we knew, who we were friends with, who we held close to us…She even knew what our plans were, for fuck's sake… She even knew that…

You're going to find out about this, that's for sure. You were always smart and quick; you're going to notice this as soon as you wake up. Open your eyes, please, and realize I haven't been as loyal as I always wanted to be. But if I don't keep the blindfold over your eyes, she'll… she'll kill her, she'll kill the poor girl. She revealed herself as 'the origin' a couple of days after Oli's funeral… And all this time, even though you've had overwhelming evidence of what really happened, I still haven't shown you the true big deal. I can't… not until I'm dead. But as you listen to this, I probably will be.

Unlike you, I can't put duty over family; I just can't… I wish I could, but I can't. Instead, I'm doing my best to save her; she doesn't deserve what's happening to her. She's threatened your life, too… and I can't lose you.

God…

I'm pathetic, I admit it. I'm a goddamned coward and I haven't done anything against it. There hasn't been a single day throughout which I haven't regretted what I did, what I've been doing to you all this time. Every time I was with you, it felt like I was pointing a gun at my own forehead; I knew I'd have to pull the trigger at any time.

But you never realized.

And so I sit here, telling you what I dread to tell you face-to-face.

I'm a coward and I don't expect you to forgive me. I expect you to forget me and erase me from your life because there's nothing you can say or do that will change my deeds.

I'll miss you, though. I'll miss you terribly.

"I'll miss you, though. I'll miss you terribly."

And releasing a long and shaky breath, he put the recorder down, not feeling his chest any lighter as it was suppose to be: the weight on his heart and shoulders was even heavier than before, excruciatingly heavy. He buried his face in his hands, then clenched them so hard he thought he'd draw blood. Tears were still falling from his eyes, but no sobs would rack his body. He had betrayed her… and because of what? Because of somebody that perhaps didn't even exist?

They'd been after this 'number twelve' since the agency was established; had they been chasing a ghost? They had never found him, and yet… he had found them first. With grief, he remembered number twelve's call: either he kept the truth under covers or she died. Agatha, his little cousin, would be dead in the blink of an eye and, as he'd sworn, "I won't do it behind your back. You'll hear as I put a bullet through her heart."

What else could I do? Now's the time that I question where my loyalties lie…

Something that had long ago been so perfectly clear was now swathed in darkness. With no light, how to look in the mirror?

–

September 5th, 2009.

"So you're telling me this whole building was like this?"

Whilst she waited for Amanda's answer, Jill found herself wondering how she had managed to keep up a conversation with her without having any unpleasant topic pop up. Amanda was stiff in Jill's presence, but at least that didn't keep her from shedding a bit of light on some matters.

"Not really; it took us a while to get it running again. We cleared most of the offices because of the lack of space and a few other things," Amanda replied, looking up at the lights in the ceiling. "We got it running soon enough, though."

"I see…" Jill let her remark hanging in the air. She was slightly startled when Amanda met her gaze; she had never thought that would happen. As Amanda stared intently, Jill neither blinked nor moved. Eventually, Amanda frowned and looked away with a sigh. "Now that we're alone, tell me something: why do you want to kill Chris? If you would just listen to what really happened, perhaps you'd change your mind."

Amanda straightened and seemed more than willing to talk, something that, for Jill, had had a fifty percent chance of happening. She clasped her hands together and said, "Alright, do tell me. Oh, but I'll answer to your question first: if somebody betrayed me, I wouldn't give them a second chance. I have a slight idea of how strong your relationship was –mine was no weaker than yours- but like I told you, I have the luxury of placing duty above family. I've got nothing to lose."

Jill took a deep breath: it was time to snap her out of whatever reality she was living in. "Since when have you thought that? Why, even? We all have something we care about."

"Are you trying to teach me something?" Amanda snapped, her eyes ablaze with previously unseen fierceness. "Look, my mother and brother are dead, my father doesn't give two shits about me and I'm here trying to catch the bastard that killed Oliver."

"That's not what happened, goddammit!" Jill exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air. "That's what I'm trying to tell you: please, how could Chris kill Oliver when they were so close? Just… consider it! He might've been infected at the time of Oliver's death, but I swear he was unconscious! It never happened like you think it did!"

"Tell me what happened then," Amanda said, clenching a fist, "and you're story had better be good."

"I think that, as fast workers that you are, you caught wind of Maria Greene's death a few days ago, didn't you?" Jill began, recalling recent events. Amanda nodded. "Wesker and I, let's face it, were involved in the whole thing, but not directly. Once we got to the BSAA's headquarters in Manhattan, we were surprised by Oliver's arrival and guess who was with him?"

"No shit…"

"Yes," Jill spoke with a serene nod, "it was Greene herself and another one of Marco's accomplices. Oliver had believed they were a couple of forensic specialists –by the looks of it-, but he was wrong. Greene pulled out a gun and shot him, square in the chest and at point-blank range. There was nothing we could do."

"W-wait, it was… it was Greene?" Amanda was, to Jill's surprise, in deep shock. She nodded. "Oh my God… Oh, shit…"

"We barely got out of there alive," Jill continued. "Oliver, during his last moments, helped us create a distraction so that we could kill Greene's partner and knock her out cold. I thanked him before leaving and I still do: we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him."

There was pure horror and disbelief in Amanda's amber gaze. "So all this time… I haven't-" She suddenly felt silent, apparently having remembered something. "Oh, God… I-I asked for a forensics report on Oli's body two months ago… Oh, fuck it!"

Without further ado, Amanda pelted up the hall, leaving Jill to wonder what Amanda had recalled.

She asked for it two months ago? I mean, two months ago no less! What's… what's she been thinking all this time, then?

–

Amanda couldn't run any faster.

That request on the forensics report to the NYPD had been delivered to them no less than two months ago; it was September and still no word about it.

I've got to ask Allen about it; he's got to have it.

Tears came to her eyes for the first time in aeons. If she had been so surprised at Jill's revelation, it had been due to denial. Yes, denial, as stupid-sounding that word was to Amanda. Had she been so blind so as to avoid any and every type of evidence that proved her accusations wrong?

Had she avoided the truth all this time?

Please, Allen, I've got to find you. If you lie to me, so help me, I will kill you.

It was as she thought this that Amanda took her gun out of its holster, still with the safety on. Part of her mind blamed her own stubbornness and lust for revenge, on her inability to see things like they were, no layers or covers to them. The other part blamed Allen: what had he been thinking? To hide something so important from her? That report was the key to Amanda's questions and the whole matter; without that forensics report, all would've been for nothing. Amanda felt her heart pounding in her ears harder than usual.

"Allen?"

"He's in the archives, cap'n," came Mark's voice from behind her. She didn't even bother to turn and thank him and raced down the hall to her right. Knowing Allen and his occasional lack of caution, he was bound to do something reckless when out of her sight. Before she could fully realize it, Amanda had burst through the door to the archives section.

Allen was in front of her, sitting on his wheelchair and facing the door. His head was hanging forward, his body limp.

"Allen?"

"Looks like you've got the gun ready," he spoke with a hoarse voice. As Amanda tensed, he chuckled: he seemed out of it, his marbles more than lost. "Doesn't surprise me, though. I wanted to ask a favor from you, in fact."

"Where's the forensics report I asked from the NYPD two damned months ago?" Amanda inquired, keeping her voice on a loose leash. "Where is it?"

"It's on your desk," Allen said, chuckling again. "I left it there before coming here. I had thought you would go to check your office first, find the report, read it and by the time you noticed, find me dead here with a bullet through my head."

Amanda's heart shrank; she could even feel her chest heavy with anxiety. She tightened her grip on her Glock, then stared at Allen's ghostly expression as he lifted up his face to her. His eyes and cheeks were red from crying, his hair was out of place and so were his glasses. He was slouching in his wheelchair and had a 9mm handgun in his hand, much to Amanda's horror.

"Why didn't you give it to me?" she inquired, stepping forward.

Allen smiled. "You know why, Strangelove. You perfectly know why."

Amanda pointed the gun at his forehead. "Mind refreshing my memory?"

But Allen remained with that cocky smile on his face, giving Amanda no choice but to take the matter further. She removed the safety, and was sure as hell Allen had seen that. It was strange for her to notice there was no remorse, no hesitation: if she had to pull the trigger, she would. That was what life had taught her day after day after fucking day.

"You can't force me to tell you," he said, shrugging. "I never will. You're never gonna know why I was such a bastard to you from the moment this operation started."

Amanda, don't do it.

"You son of a bitch… After all this time, you dare do this to me?" Amanda bellowed, stepping even closer to Allen. "You fucker!"

"I'm not the only one to blame," Allen replied, shaking his head slowly. "Who's the one who's been blinded by revenge? Not me. Who's the one who didn't want to listen to me about the evidence? Not me. Who's the one who rejected almost any and every type of help? NOT ME!"

Amanda exhaled sharply in disbelief. "You tell me this after sympathizing with me? Tch, you're incredible."

"And you're a coward." Amanda felt her ego shatter a bit more. "C'mon, pull that trigger: you ain't got the guts, do ya?"

"You think I don't?"

"I think you don't have 'em."

Amanda felt like smirking- no, grinning until her cheeks were sore. She stood mere inches away from Allen, the gun still pointed at his forehead. And Allen was still smiling, his glassy, hollow eyes staring at her as though nothing was wrong.

"You don't have what it takes to kill your best friend!" he exclaimed.

"Wrong."

–

What the hell-?

A gunshot, and from not too far away. Leon headed towards the source of the sound at full speed; if that had been a stupid move, then there was no telling what ruckus it would arise, and that wouldn't be good at all. He took the first door he found to his right, opening it very slowly, and it led him inside a large library. For a moment, he remained rooted to his place. There were almost dozens of bookcases in sight, each one with perhaps no less than fifty books, some others with thick folders full of reports and other kinds of documents. The room itself was wide but not too high and, at the far end of the room, about where the bookcases ended, there was long table.

The room was eerily silent considering a gunshot had just come from inside, so Leon tried not to disturb that silence and go unnoticed. Some distance in front of him, at the end of the bookcases, he could see somebody with their back turned to him. He approached that person with caution, having had his hand on his sidearm since the very beginning, and took deep silent breaths. Once he was at a considerable distance, Leon was struck with a pang of shock: it was Amanda, with a Glock in her left hand and the floor next to her stained crimson. A wheel was also visible: a wheelchair… Allen.

No way she just killed him…

"What a remarkable way to get in here," she remarked. "No sounds whatsoever save for the light echo of your steps." Amanda turned, Leon didn't hesitate to withdraw his gun and train it on her. "I expected no less."

"Why did you do it?" he asked as calm as he could remain. Amanda's lip curled up in derision; a second later, she was also pointing her gun at his head.

"What makes you think you can poke your nose into my business?" she exclaimed, her finger moving to the trigger. "Huh? Tell me! Come on!"

But Leon said nothing; instead, he took a step back as he lowered his 9mm and holstered it, all the while keeping his gaze on Amanda's. She didn't imitate him, like he expected, and scoffed. "You finally learnt something; good."

"I didn't withdraw because of hurt ego or submission to your humiliation," Leon countered, narrowing his eyes. "I did it because if you have the will to shoot, then you should do it now. Though unlike you, I've got things to lose."

"Then why the hell have you come here?" Amanda snapped, not lowering her Glock. "To humiliate me in return?"

"At all," Leon said with a brief smile. "I don't know why you're so jumpy. Why would I want to humiliate you?" he asked, spreading his hands. "It wouldn't do me any good, I guess."

Before either of them could say anything else, footsteps flooded the room. In just a moment, Claire and Wesker were there, both of them seemingly both ready to jump into action if it was necessary. The same instant they both made their entrance, a fleeting moment of fear and hate flashed across Amanda's features, but only hate remained. Claire was the first one to talk, having noticed Allen's lifeless corpse with just a mere scan of the scenery.

"Oh God… Why?"

Amanda's eyes were narrowed to slits. "Am I going to get the same question over and over?"

"Unless you answer, yes," Claire snapped back, firm. "And if you don't want to, fine, but that's not going to leave you alone."

"And what would you know about it?" Amanda asked through gritted teeth.

Before she could get any closer, Leon moved an inch closer to Claire and got in Amanda's way. Amanda scoffed again. "You cowardly-"

"Let's not go too far," Wesker intervened for the first time. "Are you going to cower behind your self-pity and avoid telling us about what just happened here? Speak for yourself, then."

"Look who's talkin'," Amanda spat, clenching her fists. "You bastard…"

"Can we just leave enmities aside?" Leon interjected, his tone as cutting as he could make it be. Amanda's glare was terribly strong, but it was no deterrent he couldn't get over. "I'm doing my own best to not be led by prejudice; can't we just talk? Know what the hell's going on?" He shot a small glance at Wesker, knowing he'd perfectly catch the hint, then looked at Amanda again. "Look, if you don't wanna talk, then fine by me. But if you don't, we're going to have to step in and poke our noses in your business. Your call."

Amanda remained glaring at him, almost breathing heavily, but Leon wasn't one to back off when the cards were on the table: you had to play till the very end. Eventually, Amanda said, "I killed him. There, happy?"

"Not much," Leon replied, straightening his stance. It was time for him to handle some of the talking. "Let's get specific: and the reasons why? What about them?"

"He betrayed me. And you remember what I said about those who betray me: I kill them without a moment's hesitation," Amanda explained, her voice a low growl. "Allen was no different. He thought I didn't have the guts, but I proved him wrong. Now he can start damning me to the deepest pit of Hell, but no matter: I will meet him there." She swallowed. "He betrayed me and he didn't tell me why."

"What a Machiavellian cookie," Wesker remarked, sardonic. "Are you sure he left no clues behind?"

"None that I know of," Amanda replied, growing stiff. She turned her back to them and leaned on the table, lowering her head and sighing heavily. Leon caught Claire's worried glance and shot him one of his own. What Amanda had done had dealt more damage to her than he imagined.

She sure showed herself to be cold-hearted, but it looks like she's still human in some way. Killing a friend with your own hands is hard, especially when it comes to short-term effects.

"Before I killed him," Amanda suddenly began, "Allen said he'd left a forensics report on my desk. Valentine's heard about it."

"And what does that report say?"

"I haven't read it, obviously," she spoke with a bitter chuckle. "I requested it from the NYPD to get the facts straight." She turned and, as she walked past them, said, "Let's go. I'd say we're all looking for answers."

"You think it's about…?" Claire left her question hanging in the air; Leon seized it immediately.

"I think so. Let's find out."

–

Jill and Rebecca met up with them soon afterwards. After being put up to speed, Jill was no less shocked than how Leon had admitted he had been when he'd first seen Allen dead. Also, after being told of that brief confrontation in the library, curiosity was once more rekindled. Jill didn't understand how Allen could've betrayed Amanda, or so she had claimed, considering how close they were and their long history together. Out of the blue, it made no sense… no sense at all.

She focused again on reading the aforementioned forensics report on Oliver's body and how the detectives had reconstructed the scene. The police had taken Grant's body away for thorough examination and identification; they had also found blood samples belonging to Maria Greene and another gun lying close to Oliver's body. Three different guns were identified: Oliver's own gun, a standard Beretta 92F; a .40 caliber Glock 22 that was found literally clean of fingerprints and another .40 caliber, which had been the gun that had killed Oliver. That last gun, though, was never found. Piecing the scene together, Jill could make out a simple outline: Grant dead, Oliver's gun not responsible, not the clean gun either, Greene's gun is never found. In the meantime, Chris is unconscious.

What didn't go without mentioning were the other two people that were identified aside from Chris, Greene and Grant: they had been herself and Wesker.

Of course…

For a moment, uneasiness settled in: were they on the police's most wanted list? It was after turning the page that she found a post-it note on the back of the sheet. It read: W and V are clean. Yours to handle. Clearly, that note pointed to the contrary of what she'd initially thought. Perhaps they'd been left alone on Amanda's personal request? If that was the case, then now Jill had something to thank her for.

Thanks to her, we haven't got the police on our backs.

"That's what I'd been trying to find out," she heard Amanda say, "but without this report, I had nothing… not to mention I didn't want to open my eyes. I tried to think out of the box, but I couldn't." She looked up at Claire. "I don't expect you to understand."

Claire said nothing at first, only sighed. "And I don't," she said in the end, crossing her arms, "but hey, sometimes we can't understand why we do what we do. This is just another case." Amanda straightened, so did Jill. Would she be that lenient?

No, I don't think so. Claire's not like that.

"So the whole thing was just a misunderstanding?" asked Rebecca, then shrugged. "Dammit…"

"Right on," Claire agreed, good-natured. "I just knew there was something fishy going on here… and speaking of fishy things: any clue on why Allen could've betrayed you?"

Amanda shook her head, which led Jill to believe she was telling the truth this time. There was nothing more than honesty in her amber eyes. "None yet." She sighed.

"What I still don't get is how you could kill him so…" Jill found herself unable to continue, but it was just for a brief moment. "So easily. You two seemed really close."

"He defied me, so I see no reason why shouldn't have taken up his challenge," Amanda replied in an all-too-simple and matter-of-fact tone. "He also betrayed me, and I'm not going to risk everything I've accomplished just because of his mood swings. People need to know where their loyalties lie before choosing a side; if it doesn't suit you, then stay out of the deal."

He didn't look like the type of guy who would betray somebody just because he felt like it. There must be something else…

"Right now, I have to sort things out." Amanda closed her eyes for a moment. "And… I think I owe you, almost all of you, an apology."

"Though I'm not going to say 'Alright, it's all good', at the same time I'm not going to ask for full-fledged apology," Claire piped up, looking straight at Amanda. "Consider me at an inbetween; let's just leave it settled and that's it. The only thing that's left is retribution." Hands on her hips, Claire stated, "If we need any sort of help, then we'll ask you."

"I've got my own things to take care of," Amanda snapped, tilting her head to one side.

"Okay," Rebecca piped up with sharpness to her voice Jill had never heard before, "then Leon and I and whoever else wants to tag along will treat this as a matter of state security. You're clandestine and you've participated in illegal operations; who knows what the consequences are?" Jill saw there was a glint of complicity in Leon's eyes: they were deadly serious.

Amanda frowned, visibly clenched her teeth. "We know how to play, now don't we?" she then remarked with a smirk. "Okay, fine: I'll abide by those rules." Amanda shifted her stance.

"In any case, I think the sooner we leave, the better it'll be for everyone. I want to get to the bottom of this; of everything, if it's possible," Rebecca said, looking at Jill. She could see hope and determination in Rebecca's eyes.

"I could settle something for tomorrow," Amanda said, her hair falling in front of her eye. "We've also got a tight schedule to keep, and I can't afford any other delays. We've got another 'something' in our hands."

Jill noticed how Wesker shifted.

It was no coincidence he had done it right after Amanda had spoken: either it concerned him, both of them or it had indeed been unintentional. Jill sincerely doubted it was the latter.

"If we left today before sunset, we would get there at a reasonable time," Wesker said, calm as always despite his earlier gesture. "I don't think there's more than two hours from here to Venice."

"Just an hour and a half, actually," Leon intervened with a small smile. The one Claire flashed at him, along with his voice tone, made Jill chuckle. "That's what you call being prepared, don't you?"

She was even tempted to laugh when she knew that remark was directed at Wesker. "Quite so," was his simple reply, and Jill's smile grew wider.

Really, Leon, can't you keep that to yourself?

"Well," Rebecca intervened, shrugging, "I don't see a problem with that."

"Sounds good enough to me," Claire agreed. Finally, another step towards Chris. Jill did nothing more than state her own opinion, even though it pretty much went without saying.

"Okay; let's stick to that plan."

–

September 5th, 2009

I could've avoided this.

God…

But you never realized.

And so I sit here, telling you what I dread to tell you face-to-face.

I'm a coward and I don't expect you to forgive me. I expect you to forget me and erase me from your life because there's nothing you can say or do that will change my deeds.

I'll miss you, though. I'll miss you terribly.

When Amanda heard Allen's message, she did nothing more than cry. Cry because of her regret, because of the numbness she felt inside, because of the excruciating sorrow that tortured her heart. She had killed without a solid reason: she had done that which she had feared the most.

"I've never killed someone, Allen, but I just..."

"It's alright, no need to talk anymore. I'm just concerned, and I certainly hope we get this case off our backs as soon as possible."

Now it was more than true that Oliver could be writhing in shame and pain in his tomb. It was a thought that sent her reeling and fed her sorrow's flame.

What have I become?

A/N: Okay, all that Amanda thought is cleared up; also, what really happened. Let me mention something you might've disagreed with: Amanda's reaction at Allen's taunts.

For some reason, I'm a bit tired of seeing somebody in Amanda's situation and NOT pull the trigger. Honestly, it kinda happens in a lot of movies and then the protagonist (or whoever hesitates) gets their ass kicked. Well no, it happens differently with Amanda. You've seen she's got bite and that she won't hesitate to achieve her objective, even if it leads her to make rash and despicable decisions. This time, feeling Allen had betrayed her, she set out to find him and ta-da! She did, and he was ready to accept what he'd done. Allen knew Amanda would kill him; he knew hesitation was unknown to her, which is why Amanda pulled the trigger on him and killed her best friend. It's a bad decision on the long run, you'll see, but no more superficial personality: I wanted her to be different.

And one more thing: I had to give Leon some protagonism. I just love the guy xDDD Not only that, though; as you can see, everybody is getting their share of interaction with Wesker. Leon's the most complicated and yet the most simple character to write about when in that situation: given he's never met Wesker, it's a handicap and both an upper hand. *sigh* The complexities of life... xDD

Reviews are appreciated!^^