A/N: Sorry for the wait folks, I'm extremely unreliable at the best of times. Anyhow, to make up for it, have a slightly bigger than usual update, with some fluff, some drama, and the odd bit of plot and of course, my staple cliffhanger moment because I'm a bastard.

...

"Stay where you are." He ordered, voice wavering.

His leader, his boss, his friend turned, shakily. President Benford's empty eyes stared at him, hungrily as he abandoned whatever…whoever he'd been eating. The bloody wreck that was his former friend turned and shambled toward him, driven by instinct rather than sense. Leon held the pistol firm.

"Mr President!" He yelled, knowing it was useless, but unable to simply end the man.

The woman moved nervously, her own gun raised at the infected creature. The President lurched toward her instead, maybe sensing her fear, maybe her movement, maybe she was just closer. The young woman shifted back slightly, head shaking, unable to come to terms with what was coming at her.

"Don't make me do this." He muttered to himself.

The woman backed into the wall, mouth opening and closing as she tried to make some kind of sound, her eyes were torn between fear and stress. The President lurched forward, till his face was inches from her gun. She couldn't do it, he saw, she couldn't fire. Could he? Could he do it? Could he really-

The woman gasped as Benson growled, lunging at her.

"ADAM!" He roared.

His finger pulled. The gun exploded. The bullet went straight through the side of the undead creature's skull.

He strode over slowly, watching as the blood poured from his old friends skull. He watched as the woman shook her head nervously, muttering to herself. He watched as she turned to him, distraught.

"It's all my fau-

"-ault, Agent Kennedy." The pilot yelled, over the rotor blades of the heavy helicopter. "We need somebody out there and since nobody knows where that cargo ship is exactly, we're closer to its last transmission than West Africa Branch."

Leon blinked, trying to keep up with whatever conversation he'd been having, and groaned. He'd been having a lot of dreams about Tall Oaks and China lately. Memories. Flashbacks. The past few months had been hard on all of them, but even he was feeling the toll now. He knew even as he glanced at her, her eyes would be full of concern, and they were. Helena had returned to duty after a months, recuperation, another month had passed since, but it felt much longer.

Incidents were piling up, accidents, call-outs, investigations, raids. They were struggling to deal with them all, shorthanded as they were. It was becoming increasingly apparent, the BSAA had not fully recovered from its massive losses in Lanshiang. And the assassinations, and the ambushes, and the false leads, decoys…each casualty, each loss was a greater and greater hit to the organisation globally.

There had been several disastrous missions in Europe, once England was the strongest branch, now it was a shadow of its former self. Leon and Chris and the US branch had already been greatly reduced. A lot of them had been deployed to Lanshiang, and recent events had seen their numbers drop even further.

It wasn't for lack of UN support, but their recruits were mostly volunteers. And with all that was happening, he wasn't sure he blamed the smaller numbers of people wanting to sign up.

The price of this was that more and more, they were sent further and further afield, more and more often. They were on-duty nearly full time right now, he couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a full night's sleep, he couldn't remember…

"Leon." Helena said sharply, drawing his attention.

The world came back into focus. He tipped his head in a small nod, letting her know he was fine. He wasn't so sure anymore, though. His dreams, tainted by memories of the events earlier in the year, dark, confused recollections. And he was tired. So tired.

He looked out the side, unfazed by the sight of the dark, grey sea stretching out beneath them as the sped over it, or the cold wind cutting through his leather jacket. He barely noticed as, slowly and awkwardly, Helena managed to unbuckle herself from her seat and fight her way over to the seat beside him, battling gravity, turbulence and the elements all at once. She really was something, he mused, as she sat down, buckling herself in once again.

The cold obviously bothered her a little more, he noted, as she turned up the collar of the thick black coat she wore and adjusted the woollen hat pulled tightly over her hair. She didn't complain though, he didn't think she would have. The North Atlantic was feeling the effects of the coming winter, it seemed. Christmas was on the horizon, though he rarely thought of it.

He glanced at Helena beside him, while she rubbed her gloved hands together and started to toy with her gun, idly.

Still, maybe he should do something. Something for Helena. He hadn't been moved to celebrate holidays and such with anybody for years, not since he and Claire began to drift apart and with her, the others he'd formerly been so close to. It seemed he'd done nothing but work and fight and struggle to survive for…how long? Could he just start living again? Was it viable for…for people like them? Chris and Jill tried to make it work, and Claire seemed okay outside of her activism.

He struggled to remember what his life had been like since his first and last day as a police officer, since the day in Raccoon City. His entire future had changed in that day. Whatever might have been…whatever had been before, it stopped mattering.

She made him feel different though. Helena made him act differently. Think differently. There was no denying they'd become closer since her recovery, in a thousand small, barely noticeable ways. He found time for her. She found time for him.

In the increasingly fewer times they had time to get away from the barracks, they often found their way to her home. Her couch had been a second home for several weeks, before she'd finally cleared out an unused room she used for storage. It had a bed, so it was a step up from the couch anyway. He'd long accepted the fact that he spent more time with her than anybody else, these days. Not that he minded. He liked her a lot. More than he thought he would, given their first meeting. What was it he'd said to her when they were flying to China, on the run from their government, alone against Simmons? When she'd risked it all to help him, when she so easily could have run.

He gazed out of the small window into the black storm outside. The clouds boomed and whirled ominously around the plane. He had no idea what was waiting for them, but tens of thousands were dead because of Simmons, and there was no other choice in his mind. He had to be stopped.

"We just entered Chinese airspace."

He looked away suddenly, not realising Helena had returned. She'd changed, too, from her Service attire, into a more rough and ready ensemble consisting of a sleeveless brown jacket, an olive green t-shirt, some tight, grey khaki pants and a pair of knee-high brown leather boots.

"Good." He replied, not simply in regard to her comment.

She sighed, clearly tired, head dropping into her hand. Her eyes closed and her hair tumbled over her shoulders, concealing her face. He watched her, troubled. With everything else, he forgot she wasn't as familiar with this kind of...well. The first time was the hardest. And she'd just lost her sister.

"How're you holdin' up?" He asked, rougher than he'd intended.

She looked up at him, expression tortured, clearly wrestling with something. Helena brushed the hair out of her eyes and opened her mouth, as if willing the words to form of their own accord.

"Why didn't you turn me in?" She asked. "You could have cleared your name."

"Maybe." He answered, honestly. She didn't flinch or look surprised. "But…wouldn't have stopped Simmons." He chuckled, wryly.

She shook her head, shrugging slightly in agreement.

"Besides…" He smirked a little, wanting to cheer her up. "You're starting to grow on me a little bit."

Helena blinked, momentarily surprised, then flashed him the ghost of a smile before looking away.

Of course, a second later everything started to fuck up as the plane was suddenly overrun by infected passengers and the pilot turned into a monster and Leon tried very badly to land an airliner in the middle of a city. But if he'd had time to consider, as he had now, what he'd have realised much sooner, was that he'd really meant those words, even back then.

He felt her press up against him in an attempt to stay warm, still stubbornly refusing to complain vocally. Her head rested on his shoulder. She felt no need to check with him anymore, about this sort of thing. Leon didn't mind, and she knew it.

The sea flew by beneath them, as they continued toward their goal.

Helena Harper had grown on him a lot more since then.

"You need to tell him Jill, I don't like keeping something like this from my brother." Claire murmured, sullen.

Jill and she were sat together on a bench somewhere in the mass of Central Park. Jill had secured another day off duty under the guise of "illness". It wasn't completely untrue, she had been ill, but the reasons for it she still kept to herself.

Several weeks ago, she'd turned to Claire and confided in her the truth. Their lives weren't getting any easier, or safer for that matter, and in a month or so she would start to…show.

"You think I do?" She snapped, then softened. "I'm sorry Claire."

"I know." Claire replied, understandingly.

"I love him, but this…" Her hands moved to her stomach gently, as if it housed a ticking bomb. It did, in a way, she mused bitterly. "…now?"

"I'm here for you, okay?" Claire placed a hand on her troubled friend's shoulder softly. "But he needs to know, so do the others."

Claire saw Jill's troubled expression, and pressed on.

"I mean, come on Jill, you can't go back on duty like this, you have to accept it and deal with it."

"Deal…?" Jill frowned.

"Either you keep it or…or not. But Chris deserves to know, he at least has a right to offer an opinion."

"I don't think I could…get rid of it." Jill sighed. "Whatever else happens, whatever comes after, this child will be ours." The blonde's eyes met hers, sad, but determined.

"I know Chris, and I know you do too." Claire added, reassuringly. "He'll be surprised, but he loves you, and he'll be there for you no matter what."

Jill nodded, rubbing her stomach idly again.

"I want him to…I hope he isn't disappointed."

"Truth be told…" Claire began, wrapping an arm around Jill's shoulder, conspiratorially. "I think he'll be thrilled. I think he found it a real drag when I grew up and he had nobody left to boss about."

The two laughed together for a moment, lapsing into a relaxed silence.

"Thanks Claire."

Claire waved her gratitude off, smiling. She was just being herself, all she'd ever been. She wanted Jill and Chris to work things out, she hoped they would. Her own life was so…empty in that respect, she found a kind of happiness in others. Often, she didn't mind, occasionally she'd get a bit sad, and her memories would stray to Leon. But they'd separated mutually, and she knew it had bothered him a lot more, and affected him a lot longer. She felt guilty each time she saw he and Helena together, knowing that they'd fallen into a kind of limbo, both knowing they were something more than friends, but not quite able to…progress.

Claire still didn't know Helena very well, but they'd become friends in the time since she'd recovered. She sensed Helena still felt some kind of guilt about whatever she'd thought of her before they met, and no matter how Claire assured her, the younger woman still went the extra mile, as if feeling she had something to make up for. Claire suspected strongly that the brunette had feelings for Leon, but she still wasn't sure why she hadn't tried acting on them.

Leon she knew much better. She was sure he was coming to fall for Helena, whether he was aware of it or not. She saw it in his eyes, his words, his voice, movements and behaviour around her. He acted slightly differently around her, and spoke as if unsure of his himself, as if wandering uncharted territory. Something Leon generally didn't do. Here, guilt twisted in her chest. She felt Leon wasn't able to push their relationship further because of his past with herself.

She was under no illusion, they were over. They shared no romantic feelings for one another, but she'd always felt he blamed himself for their failure in the past, and wondered if that had stopped him pursuing any other meaningful relationships since then. Was there anything she could say, or do to help him bury their past? She didn't want to intrude on what, for Leon, was sure to be a very private matter, and risk him pulling away from Helena.

It bugged her to no end, but there was little to do but hope they worked it out for themselves too. She put on a smile, as she realised her mind had wandered and Jill was regarding her, confused.

"And if he doesn't…" She grinned. "…I'll kick his ass and marry you instead."

"You Redfields are a damn menace!" Jill laughed again.

"At least we know BLADE won't be getting the drop on us for this one." Mick muttered.

Nichols nodded, grim, as the two pressed on into the abandoned office building. It had once been owned by Umbrella, and like so many before it, was nothing but a dead shell of the glory it had once shown to the world. Umbrella was no more, but its legacy remained in hidden labs, facilities, splinter factions and the biological horrors that plagued the world to this day.

"Cut the chatter guys." Chris snapped over the comms. "Let's get this sweep done with."

"Right sir." Nichols replied, curtly.

"The captain's been antsy lately, hasn't he?"

"He's got a lot on his mind, Ford." The sergeant replied, as they continued, pacing slowly down the corridor. "BLADE's got us on the backfoot in Europe. They've…how do I put it…"

"Pulled the rug from under our feet?" Mick pressed against the corner as the path split three ways.

"Something like that." Nichols replied, doing the same. "They get on site before we do, somehow. Legally, they have no jurisdiction in holding the biological material and have to hand any they find over to us, but it's funny that every time the BSAA gets to a site after BLADE, that nothing is reported to have ever been found. Quite a spate of coincidences."

"Reckon they're stealing it? What for?"

"I hate to think." Nichols muttered darkly. "I've heard from some colleagues in England they're well-trained, well-equipped and a well-funded organisation. A little too good, for government backing."

"Aren't we going to do anything about them?"

"We're not an army, Ford. We're beholden to international law, we're not some vigilante paramilitary." Nichols faced him, expression angry, but eyes torn between fury and disgust. Mick flinched, unaccustomed to seeing him so outwardly emotional.

"Sorry sir." Mick muttered.

Nichols sighed.

"We just do our jobs as best we can."

"Sir." Mick saluted, then saw the movement in the dark behind the sergeant.

Nichols turned, seeing his companions expression in time to hear the rasping growl. He raised his M4, too late he knew, not expecting Mick to ram into him, bearing them both to the floor as their opponent flew over them.

"Licker! Licker!" Mick roared over the comms. "Eighth floor!"

They hurried to their feet, Mick firing a few rounds down the corridor, hoping to dissuade the creature from trying again until they were ready.

"I owe you one." Nichols nodded to him, as they pursued the creature.

"Nothing doing sir, I distracted you. Quits?"

"Quits. And the drinks are on me."

"You're the boss, sir." Mick nodded with a grin.

Nichols smirked back as they hurried after their foe.

Ingrid was hunched over the screen, staring intently at the footage for the umpteenth time. She'd been poring over the security recordings of the attacks on the BSAA that night for weeks, looking for something, anything to give her a clue, or some kind of link to that Treadstone guy and the BLADE organisation.

They really had come out of nowhere, and it didn't sit well with her at all. Ever since she had become Leon's handler, on his mission to Spain, she'd never let him down. It was a point of pride to her, that he knew he could count on her, but she was stumped.

There had to be a link. The BSAA was weakened after the global crisis, somebody hit them where it hurt, specifically, to show how strained their resources were publicly. Suddenly up pops Treadstone with this new initiative, a new anti-bioterror organisation funded by elements of the British government, literally sweeping up assignments in Europe, appearing in troublespots and such with dizzying speed.

She suspected an informant from within the BSAA too, just to make matters worse. There was no other way they could be so well informed. It was all so troubling.

She knew that technically, none of this had anything to do with her, but she'd worked with Leon so long in this world of biological nightmares and megalomaniacal threats, and he was her friend. Helena too. She owed it to them to try.

She scanned through the street footage of the car chase in Manhattan again, looking for some…tell, something she could.

There.

She wound back the footage. There. She'd missed it a dozen times, but there it was.

At the moment Helena pulled up beside the second black car, when Leon waved his gun out the window to blow their tyres, the driver turned to their car. It was a one in a million chance, but it had happened. The light from one of the street lamps hit the visor of the black helmet in such a way that it negated the black tint. She could see the face.

And if she could see it, she could use it.

She booted up the facial-recognition program, splicing the cut into it and loaded up the extensive database of…persons of interest the Secret Service had access to.

While it ran she leaned back in her chair, rubbing her tired eyes and yawned.

Her thoughts turned again to Leon and Helena. Ingrid didn't have an extensive social circle, so much of her time was spent living through the actions of others, it carried over into her personal life.

Or what there was of it.

Even going with Leon to meet Helena, at her sister's grave had been a rarity. But she'd insisted, having sat and worried at the safety of her friends while they fought through Tall Oaks and Lanshiang, sat powerless to really help them. She wanted to meet Helena in person, and at least verify with her own eyes that Leon too, was in one piece still. Her job, her duty was a lonely one. She was used to it though. Helena's beauty in person had stunned her a little, she'd been grateful Leon was there to talk for her. She'd seen her file, and pictures, but she hadn't been ready for how different she was up close.

Not that she deluded herself. Ingrid knew the younger woman wasn't…like her. It made her a little sad, but she was used to-

The computer let out a shrill beep as it found something. Ingrid peered closer, frowning in confusion. It had found somebody, but it had gone into files outside of the US, more than that, it had gone into British files.

The face of an athletically built, thin-faced man stared back at her. He wasn't at all what she'd expected.

"Seamus Dunn…" She scanned quickly through some of the basic information, though something about the name was familiar.

Former British Army, former SAS, former private contractor…

He had a lengthy career in combat, a veteran then. It was the file of a hero, but for one thing.

He'd been discharged dishonourably from each progressive step in his career. Violence, extreme violence. Cruelty. Sadism, even. Never insubordinate though, followed orders well, loyal to officers but he was just…something else.

He'd been shoved up the chain but nobody had wanted him. The Army threw him to the SAS, they in turn to a mercenary contractor, then he'd disappeared. It didn't say specifically, but Ingrid knew the signs, he'd been snatched up by some black ops outfit, but even they'd wanted rid of him…

And now he worked…

Ingrid fumbled through her contacts in another window, hurriedly putting a call through to Leon. While the program tried to connect to her friend, she scanned the file more thoroughly, remembering the name suddenly.

There it was, an operation several years back, in Alaska. Joint-cooperation with the UK due to the nature of the objective. Seamus Dunn had been on the mission, she had been a handler on it.

She had been handling Leon.

And now Dunn worked for…

It was too much, her head was spinning. Her mind swam with theories and connections. Leon had to be warned.

The call failed to connect. She cursed loudly and repeatedly, glad that nobody was around at this hour to comment.

"Where the fuck are you, Kennedy." She hissed, slamming her fist on the desk in frustration.

Despite her wishes to the contrary, the file continued to read that Seamus Dunn had recently become a member of the newly formed Bio-weapons Logistics and Aberrant Disease Eradication organisation.