Although they were already up and ready to leave the plane, Steve noticed a group of hostesses talking quietly but hurriedly beside the door, looking a little panicked. At first, he considered that there must have been some kind of mistake with the terminals, and that the plane had been steered into the wrong bay, or something else of that sort, but he became quite uncomfortably surprised when he noticed that the group of women were shooting occasional glances at himself and Leon as they spoke.

Over the intercom, one of the women quickly announced that all passengers must remain seated until advised otherwise, but that there were no problems with the plane or the flight, and so not to worry. A few disgruntled individuals returned to their seats, with bags, coats, and cases now piled precariously in their laps or on nearby vacant seats.

Steve was ushered back into his seat by Leon, who, after glancing briefly at the whispering hostesses, calmly gave Steve his coat and gloves and told him to put them back on, pulling on his own jacket as he did so and hooking his bag over one shoulder. Steve felt slightly reassured at this. Leon had said that everything was taken care of and that it would be okay. So he had nothing to worry about, right?

However, he certainly began to panic a little when one of the hostesses from the group at the front approached them, smiling slightly awkwardly. She looked at Steve briefly, before focussing her attention on Leon, keeping her voice low, as though not to alert the other passengers to the conversation.

"Mr Kennedy, you and your party will be leaving the plane first. There is a car waiting for you."

Leon didn't seem fazed by this at all, and simply nodded and thanked the attendant, shooting Steve a brief, undecipherable look, before getting up and making his way to the front of the plane, stopping at periodic intervals to check that the boy was always right behind him.

Steve, on the other hand, was not so calm, and awkwardly shambled behind Leon down the aisle, holding his gloves tightly between both hands like some kind of safety device, both afraid, at the niggling feeling that something awful was about to happen, and embarrassed, that literally every other person on the plane had their eyes fixed on them. It felt like some kind of awkward, claustrophobic death march towards the gallows.

He felt a wave of chilled air hit his face as they reached the door, and barely had time to register the rehearsed, over enthusiastic goodbyes from the flight attendants, as he noticed what was waiting for them outside.

There were five. Not one, but 'five', very expensive looking black cars parked on the tarmac beside the plane, each with blacked out windows, hiding whoever, or whatever was inside, completely from view. One of the cars, which was closer to the stairway out of the plane than the others, had its back door open in waiting. It looked very similar to a picture you'd see from some kind of glamorous celebrity party or a red carpet event, but there was something much more sinister about it…Steve couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. All he knew was that he definitely, under any circumstances, did not want to get into that car.

Outside the cars, there were several very large, stony-faced men in black suits, standing side by side in a rigid, intimidating position. Steve half expected them to be wearing sunglasses and earpieces, and have stereotypical Russian accents, but he was far too nervous to make any jokes about that, even inside his own head. There was something about the fact that they 'didn't' have any of those things that made Steve even more uncomfortable. Each of the men was looking at him slightly coldly, and the fact that he could see their eyes, and yet, still couldn't read their expressions…that was what scared him the most.

In contrast, however, to these menacing brutes, was the dainty, quite elegant-looking, bespectacled woman standing close beside them. She was wearing a suit jacket, a pencil skirt, and high heels, and her mousy-brown hair was tied up neatly into a bun. Just like the men standing around her, she had a fairly serious look on her face, and in her stance, too, but unlike them, there was something in her eyes familiar to guilt as she looked at Steve, before she focussed her attention on Leon, speaking to him softly as he approached her.

From Steve's point of view, it was quite obvious that they knew each other, and Leon greeted the woman warmly, but Steve couldn't hear what they were talking about, and he didn't dare get any closer. Leon conversed with the woman for a while, quietly, before something in his stature changed, and Steve could hear something in Leon's voice that almost sounded like panic. It shocked him a little. Not once, in the past five weeks since they had been together, had Steve seen Leon lose his cool. Not even by the smallest margin. He still didn't understand what was happening, but he knew for certain that he was not going to like it when he found out.

After a while, Leon and the woman stopped talking, and Leon glanced back at Steve briefly, his brow lightly furrowed, looking saddened, and even a little angry, before he was ushered into one of the cars by two of the men in suits, and driven away without so much as a 'goodbye', another of the cars following close behind.

Steve just stood there, motionless, feeling a mixture of confusion, sadness and fear, staring at the empty section of runway where two of the ominous black cars had so suddenly disappeared, taking with them the one important thing he had left in his life. His sight was fixed so firmly in place, that he didn't even notice the woman approach him, before she placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Mr Burnside?"

Steve flinched a little, looking at her, feeling nauseous. He hated it when people called him 'Mr Burnside'. It was so cold and unfamiliar. It was not like him at all. Besides…it reminded him of his father.

"I'm sorry for everything that you've been through, but you should know that you'll be safe with us."

"W…where did you take Leon?"

The woman paused, watching him sympathetically, her hand still on his shoulder.

"Agent Kenne…" She paused briefly, before smiling a little, "Leon…has other things to do.

His part of the job is over."

Steve froze, the nausea building slightly in his stomach and his mouth growing dry. He felt a light wave of pain in his head, and his chest felt unbearably tight. He couldn't have felt any worse if she had just slapped him across the face, and so he just stood there, speechless, feeling too tired, too sick, too hopeless…

In the end, it came back to the starting point. He didn't have to ask any questions to know what was going to happen to him now. He was going back into a cage. Maybe not physically…but he was still trapped. He was a thing. A thing that nobody wanted and everyone was afraid of. He was just one of Umbrella's leftovers, handed over to the government for them to cover up like some shameful mistake. As though Steve Burnside had never even existed. After all…he had no family…no friends…no one would miss him.

He felt as though everything he had gained over the past few weeks. Everything he'd struggled through in order to get back on his feet. It was all worthless now. It only took a few brief, thoughtless words to knock him right back over again.

And it hurt.

He had nothing left.

And he could do nothing more than stand there and let them take him, as the woman put her arm around his shoulders and steered him gently towards the car. As he was ushered slowly into the back seat, and the door was closed firmly behind him. As he faintly heard the engine start, but could see nothing, and feel nothing around him.

It was dark.

And it was silent.

And he was afraid.

And although he wanted to fight back…wanted to shout and scream and run away, he didn't. He stayed quiet and still, and he let it all happen. Because there was no point anymore.

Because every time he thought he finally had something worth fighting for, it was ripped away from him.

His friends…His parents…His freedom…His humanity… Claire…

…Leon.

And he couldn't fight anymore.

Not anymore.