"What the hell is this place, a damn rat-trap?" Sherry hissed under her breath as she rounded what had to have been her hundredth corner, only to reveal... yet another empty, white corridor. The only change so far had been the sudden disappearance of any and all doors. Something that only made her feel more like a clueless little mouse running around in a maze. The alarms, at least, had been shut off. An announcement telling all "staff" that it had merely been a drill, no need to panic, both amused and disquieted her. It hinted at several things. One being that loosing control of whoever worked here - not that she'd seen anyone other then the faceless, gun-toting guards she'd managed to avoid so far - could spell trouble, the kind that could lead to some serious chaos. The other... they - whoever they were exactly - were pretty confident she wasn't going to get far.

Footsteps and muffled voices echoing along the corridor hurried her along. At this point she'd take just about any door to get out of the winding hallways. Any door... or the closest thing she could find. Her eyes suddenly spotted every secret agent's answer to their prayers in situations like this... a ventilation shaft. Except it wasn't in the ceiling, but in the walls.

With the sound of footsteps getting closer Sherry didn't have much time to mull over the unusual architectural aspects of her prison. Using the tip of her blade and silently sending her thanks to Maverick even while she hoped he'd accidentally stumbled into a cell holding one those poor creatures, Sherry skillfully managed to work one of the bolts loose and pull open the grate just enough for her small body to slide through. She had only seconds to spare when she pulled it back into place and shrunk into the shadows as six guards suddenly thundered past. Inwardly she wondered if they were just as lost as she was, only for her thoughts to be distracted when she realised her feet suddenly felt very wet... and cold. Kneeling down she ran her fingers through what seemed to be just ordinary water. Lifting them to her face she sniffed, praying it wasn't some kind of leaking sewage.

The smell was sharp and bitter... salty. Like the ocean. Sherry frowned. Sea water in a ventilation shaft?

Drying her hand on her dirtied jeans Sherry tried to focus on the shadowy tunnels, keeping the knife held tightly in her hand she continued on for what felt like an age. She didn't know how long exactly, but eventually she was plunged into total darkness. Using her hands to feel her way forward she listened hard for sounds of life. Occasionally she thought she heard a thump or a voice, only for the silence to press in on her again. Her mind wandered, imagining that any second now she would hear a scream, hear Jake cussing out whoever had taken him, and find herself unable to do anything trapped in the damn walls.

"Good plan Sherry," she berated herself, "You really are trapped like a rat now."

Her mental anguish continued for what felt like a good few hours, although she was sure barely one had passed, when she walked face first into something cold and hard. Very hard. Pain erupted over the bridge of her nose, making her curse loudly before she slammed her hand over her mouth as the sound echoed around her. Her heart thumping in her chest, Sherry reached out her free hand and felt for the offending object. It landed on what felt like a metal ring protruding from the wall. Sliding her hand up she felt another... then another.

"Finally!" she breathed. Hooking the knife into her jeans Sherry pulled herself on to what she was sure was a ladder, and her freedom, and began to climb. When her hand scrambled in midair for a ring that was no longer there Sherry gingerly stretched her palm out and found solid ground directly at shoulder level. This time, as she pulled herself up, her eyes adjusted to the small amount of light that appeared to be filtering through from the somewhere in front of her. Stopping on all fours Sherry felt the walls beside and above her. The shaft had suddenly shrunk to about half its size and there was no way she could stand at full height. Somewhat clumsily shuffling forward she made her way toward the dim, white light coming from below. A sense of dread and hope battling it out inside her. How she hoped to see Jake as she reached the gap... and how she feared the state she might find him in.

Taking a slow, steadying breath Sherry reached the grate and looked down upon a rather messy, unmanned desk. Dipping her head Sherry strained to see more. She could just about make out a large, glass cabinet against the wall. Plain, off-white tiles decorated the room. Another laboratory, she guessed.

Listening hard she waited for signs of life. Cautiously she tapped on the grate with the hilt of her knife. If there was anyone close by they'd hear and surely come to look. At least she could move out of sight and hope they'd pin the noise on some kind of vermin. After several minutes and no reaction, Sherry mentally went over her options. Keep crawling around in the dark with no idea where she was headed... or have a look below and see what she could find.

Her fingers sought out the bolts. Undoing them would be just as easy as before. Patiently she worked them free, all the while listening for movement below. After what felt like a life-time she lifted the surprisingly light metal free, leant it up against the wall, and peered inside.

It wasn't a lab, like she'd thought. It looked more like someone's office. The glass cabinet held a variety of scientific equipment she was more than familiar with, syringes, vials... but it was something on the desk that Sherry hadn't spotted before that caught her interest. A name... no... two names.

"Project File: Birkin. S."

"Project File: Muller. J."

Her feet were dangling from the ceiling within seconds. Sherry slid from the gap with ease, landing on the desk with a soft thud. Climbing down carefully so as not to send the various books and papers falling to the floor, Sherry snatched up the files and flicked them open. Her eyes widened. Her own file was filled with the most intimate details. Her blood type, medical history, a briefing of what looked like just about every experiment and test ever run on her. Scanning through Sherry's eyes tried to drink in as much as she could. Suddenly Maverick's voice rang in her ears, his taunts from before about her heritage, her legacy... "You, my dear, are his best work yet."

Sherry shivered. It didn't make any sense at all. The information she held in her hands had been top-secret. Her very existence and had been top-secret after her escape from Raccoon City. There was no way they could know so much about her, about the virus within her blood-

"... the virus within Ms Birkin's blood seems to have become dormant, docile even. It is my belief it can still be used for experimental purposes. The regenerative quality of this particular strand could prove quite useful..."

Sherry froze as her eyes moved over the words. The virus that had adapted itself to her body had been extracted and experimented with many times, each test had proved unsuccessful. Whoever had collected these files must surely have known that...

She read on, this time opening Jake's file with a growing foreboding. If so much of her own past was sitting in her hands, no doubt Jake's would be just as thorough.

Sure enough, there it was in black and white.

"Jake Muller. Only known offspring of Albert Wesker. Mother: deceased."

Sherry felt the edge of the papers she held crumple as her fists clenched. The lengths these people must have gone to in order to get this information... was it a spy? Bribes? It looked they had a mole in every major organisation she could think of. In her mind's eye she saw her old guardian and employer, Derek Simmons. It was possible she didn't really know any of the people she worked with. Any one could have betrayed them.

Any one.

A single, hand-written note suddenly escaped her clutches and fell upon the desk with a gentle sigh. Sherry frowned, trying to make out the scrawled writing. It looked as if someone had been in a rush as they jotted down their thoughts if the scribbling, slanted writing was anything to go by.

"Tests conclusive. Muller carries several genetic anomalies similar to that of his father. His genetic structure is strong, a perfect base to begin my work. With the "submissive" version of the virus in the girl's blood at my disposal the abnormalities my previous experiments developed should easily be avoided this time. All I need to do is combine the DNA. Another month or two is all I need. I've collected all that is necessary from the boy, but Birkin is far more precious. Her ability to regenerate from just about anything practically makes her immortal. Which could prove useful when we begin using her as a host for the embryo-"

Bile rose in her throat. Dropping the paper, Sherry began to maniacally search through her own file once more. What she found made her blood run cold. Several words kept leaping out from the page, making her hands tremble and her heart beat loudly in her own ears.

Clone.

Regeneration.

Rebirth.

It didn't take a genius to figure out who exactly they were planning to revive, she thought, fighting the sudden need to sit down as her legs threatened to crumble beneath her. But it couldn't be possible, she told herself. He was dead, long dead. No trace of his body could even exist anymore. It fell into a volcano for heaven's sake...

But sure enough, tucked away at the very back of Jake's file was an old, battered looking photograph. A collection of young men and women in white lab coats smiled arrogantly toward the camera. Sherry's eyes immediately fell upon the unmistakable face of a youthful Albert Wesker. His mouth smiled but his eyes remained cold and hard, unaware of the face looking at him with such reverence from behind a glossy cloak of long blonde hair. Sherry didn't recognise the woman, but she knew what this was. This was a photograph of Oswald Spencer's collection of "gifted children."

Dropping the photo Sherry gathered the files into her arms and pulled herself on top of the desk. There was too much for her to get her head around, she didn't have time to analyse it all, but she knew enough that getting the hell out of there was all she needed to be thinking about. She'd hide the files in the shafts and come back for them once she had Jake safely by her side. At that precise moment in time, it was all she could stand to think about. The words "host" and "embryo" swam through her mind, making her skin crawl as the implications of those words left her imagining herself back in her cell, alone but for the creature she would be forced to carry inside her own body. Sherry had been used time and time again since she was a child... but this was just... sick.

Shivering as her stomach turned, threatening to unload its bile-filled contents over the desk, Sherry pulled the grate back into place as best she could and leapt from the desk. For the first time she examined the room properly. It looked like any other office, except everything seemed to hold a certain creepy horror movie-esque quality to it now. But it was the window that drew Sherry's full attention. The window which showed a clear, open blue sky hovering over an endless expanse of grey-blue water. Moving closer on unsteady feet, Sherry remembered the smell of the liquid that had soaked through her boots. Salt. Sea salt.

Pressing a hand against the glass, Sherry stared out at the disappearing shoreline far off into the distance. The weren't just in a laboratory or secret experimental facility. They were on a ship, miles from land... and heading who knew where...

Jake wasn't sure what was happening exactly, but he had a hunch. Not seconds after Lesley had smiled cruelly against his ear and whispered the words that made his blood run cold, the sound of an alarm pierced the shocked silence and sent the woman hovering over him into a furious rage. One of the masked freaks who'd wheeled him into the room suddenly appeared in the doorway, gun at the ready.

"Ma'am. We've got a situation in the holds..."

Lesley's face contorted into a vicious mask of contempt as she stared at the man, "Well?"

"The woman... she escaped..."

Jake couldn't help the short burst of laughter that escaped his lips. Relief coupled with amusement at the size of Sherry's balls overrode any sense of self-preservation as Lesley shot him a look of pure ire.

"How?" she snapped, pulling something from her pocket that Jake couldn't quite see.

"The last I.D card used to enter the holds belonged to Maverick Nolan ma'am..."

It seemed he needn't say anymore if the string of curses Lesley unleashed was anything to go by. "You find that son of a bitch and throw him in the holds until I decide exactly how painful I want his death to be! As for the girl... find her. Get her back into captivity. I don't care what it takes, you understand? And get those god damn alarms switched off before we have a riot on our hands!"

The guard offered a half-hearted salute and backed out of the door, once again leaving Jake alone with the woman now tightly gripping yet another syringe. This time it contained a clear, watery fluid. Jake felt his body tense, the restraints cutting into his flesh as he eyed the instrument dubiously. Lesley ran her free hand over the loose strands of hair from her pony tail, her nostrils flaring as she took in several deep breaths. The red flush of her skin slowly began to subside until she managed to work that cold-hearted smile back onto her lips.

"Now... where were we?" she drawled.

"Lady..." Jake began bluntly, his face set in a mask of utmost seriousness. "Has anyone told you, you are bat-shit crazy."

The smile on her mouth faltered for only a moment before a soft, goose-bump inducing laugh bubbled up through her throat.

"No, seriously," Jake continued, keeping his eyes trained on hers as he pulled his body as far upright as he could, "You should think about talking to someone. A shrink perhaps. Although don't be surprised when you find yourself wrapped in one of those nice give-yourself-a-free-hug jackets all the crazies seem to love so much. But you'll get your own room, no doubt. One with nice padding in the walls-"

"Shut up!" Lesley suddenly cried, slamming the palm of her hand against Jake's cheek with enough force to send it snapping to the side. "You have no idea what I'm capable off!"

A slow, creeping smile spread over Jake's face as he turned his now stinging cheek away from her. It was the smile of a man who knew he had nothing left to lose. A man not afraid to get his hands dirty.

"It's funny," he breathed, "I was about to say the same thing."

The sound of something popping and crunching made Lesley jump back in surprise as Jake cried out sharply, pulling his hand free from the restraint at his side. Without stopping to take stock of the pain reverberating from his dislocated thumb he reached out, lunging to his side with one powerful swipe, and wrapped his fingers around the syringe held loosely in Lesley's hand. The table he was on toppled over, slamming his face and chest against the ground. He felt something crack in his shoulder, a hot-red pain shooting down his arm and back. Gritting his teeth against it he focussed on Lesley who was now running for the door, calling for help.

"Fuck!" Jake hissed, taking the syringe between his teeth he summoned every ounce of strength he had to push himself and the table he was still tied to its side. From here he could just about manage to untie his other hand, his fingers working clumsily with the buckle as his thumb hung uselessly across his palm. It had been a neat trick he'd learnt when he was seventeen, helped along by the fact he'd had several of his fingers broken on numerous occasions. Still, the pain was making him feel a little woozy.

His hand wriggled free just as a foot collided with his face, making him taste blood as his lower lip split to spray the floor with the crimson liquid. The syringe in his mouth cracked, but did not break. The foot came back, the heel of Lesley's shoe glinting in the light. In one swift move Jake tore the needle from between his lips and plunged it into her slender ankle, her pain-filled scream filling the room as she stumbled back and fell to the ground, pulling the instrument along with her at a most unpleasant ankle and tearing at the muscle until blood began to pool at her heel. Wasting no time Jake forced his thumb back into position, adrenaline now overriding the agony as he hastily began work on freeing his feet.

Lesley lay hunched with her hands wrapped around her bleeding ankle when Jake stood, his eyes scanning the door which remained slightly ajar. The alarms were still going haywire, drowning out the commotion they'd just made. Not that there was anyone to hear it. It seemed everyone had left their positions in pursuit of Sherry.

Jake pulled the door shut before turning to stare down on Lesley's pathetic, whimpering face.

"You know," he said to no one in particular as he slowly crossed the room. Each footstep ringing in Lesley's ears before he stopped and knelt at her side, his eyes boring into hers with such fierceness... such cold, unrepentant hatred... "I let you go once before, and look where it's gotten me. I have a habit of making sure I don't repeat my mistakes..."

Whatever reaction he had been expecting from the woman, her mocking laughter had not been one of them. No, not mocking. Insane. Jake scowled as Lesley threw her head back and placed one blood stained hand to her chest. Jake watched, bemused by her sudden shift from quivering fear to... well, a descent into true madness perhaps?

"Oh my dear. My dear stupid boy..." she cackled.

Jake's hand shot out and wrapped itself around her fragile throat just enough to put a stop to her laughter. He had broken necks before, had knelt on a man's windpipe until he'd turned blue in the face and his eyes turned red with blood. He'd even killed a woman or two, all armed and well-adjusted to life with a gun in their hands. Lesley, as defenseless as she may have been, was far from innocent. His fingers tightened, making her choke as she continued to smile at him... so filled with ridicule... so... knowing.

Jake's fingers loosened. Lesley gasped, the hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, the slickness of her blood making him want to recoil.

"You..." she panted hoarsely.

Jake tilted his head, wondering what insanity she would begin to spout next.

"You... look just like your father..."

The snap of her neck echoed back to Jake like something from a dream. He blinked as Lesley's head, still smiling grotesquely up at him, fell to one side as her hand finally released its hold of his arm.

Jake threw himself away from her body, crashing into the overturned table. He didn't notice the alarms being silenced or a voice calmly offering reassurances over the comms system. All he could see was Lesley. Lesley cradling her sons small head. Lesley thanking him for sparing her life. Lesley lying like a broken doll against the wall.

Jake stared at the hand smeared with blood. His... and hers.

He felt his body begin to tremble. Never had he felt such... disgust, shock and horror after a killing. Why? She was a threat. A danger to him, to Sherry. He'd killed her, she'd deserved it... didn't she?

... Didn't she?

Disclaimer: I own no rights to the RE franchise.

AN: Firstly, sorry about the long wait. But I've re-written this chapter so many times! So some things have been revealed... which might actually be leading to more questions. Please let me know what you think, reviews and coffee are always inspirational! Yeah, I stole the ship idea from one of the movies... so sue me (actually don't, the rent is due very soon and I have a Gas bill at the end of the month...)

I love a good twist... no pun intended.