The ride to the safe-house was long, crowded, and awkward. It hadn't taken long to download the contents of the several available databases, find, and then activate the self-destruct system and reduce the headquarters to a heap of smouldering rubble. And although he was glad to be away from that quiet, tomb-like building and everything that was held within it, Chris found himself almost wishing it had taken just a little longer.

He, Mary, and Sherry had been shoved into the back of the van like so much contaminated material, awkwardly trying not to press up against each other or make eye contact. Jill was up at the front with Barry, too far away to even reach out and touch, with Rebecca, Leon, and Claire squished into the middle row of seating. With all the extra equipment they'd brought and the addition of an extra person, it was a tight fit. Chris wondered if the stink of blood, sweat and dust was as apparent to everyone or if it was just him.

Barry pulled the van into the parking lot of the safe house Leon, with his extensive network of contacts, had set up for them – an abandoned rural school which had been equipped with the bare minimum of supplies. Weary bodies piled out of the van and headed inside, the doors creaking, but the school itself relatively clean and well maintained. What had once been the lobby and main office of the school had been renovated into a central lounge with several worn couches and small tables. Off to the right the classrooms had been equipped with the rudiments of sleeping chambers, and to the right were all the other important rooms, including a kitchen, communications room, infirmary, and etc.

Using the quiet that followed as people began to disperse, Claire rounded on Mary, trapping her against the back of an old couch.

"I don't care what you are, but you had better fucking fix him or I swear to God, virus or no, I will make your life a hell. A painful one." Mary looked back at her wide-eyed, blood still caked across her face and hands. In a move which surprised everyone, she forcefully pushed the older girl away from her, creating a bubble of furious isolation around her.

"You think I did this to myself, don't you? Don't you?! You all think that I would do this to myself!" her voice was rising it pitch and volume as she began to gesture with her hands. "Why would I do that?" Claire backed away as everyone gave her an even wider berth. "Why would I want to live forever in a world that has never done anything but shit on me?! Why would I want that?! " Mary shook her head, a twisted, sad little smile twitching at the corner of her lips, her voice quivering with anger. "No, I'm not the one who begged for this, am I Captain?" She turned to face Chris, "why don't you tell them how you came to me and threatened me and forced me to do this for you? I am the victim here, and you are the monster Redfield, I mean Jesus Christ what the fuck did you do to that man?"

"She's right Chris," Claire's voice remained monotone as she forced it out between clenched teeth. The siblings stood only a few feet from each other, but the distance between them was fathomless. "You've made yourself into the very thing you wanted to destroy – so what have you really accomplished?"

"Albert Wesker was a monster long before he ever injected himself" Chris' eyes, so like those of his sister, blazed furiously back at her, his voice a mixture of accusation and threat. "So don't you ever fucking compare me to him."

"Whatever," Claire turned on her heel and stalked down the hallway towards one of the 'bedrooms. Chris made to follow her, but Jill stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Chris, just let her go for now. It's going to take time." Chris, never one to take a slight lightly, shrugged his arm out from under her hand and stalked away in the opposite direction, slamming a door somewhere down the hall.

Everyone else slowly dissipated out of the main area, finding a quiet space to recover and collect their thoughts in private. Finally, Mary and Sherry were the last left, each feeling equally as out of place as the other.

"You probably won't bruise much," Sherry said quietly, picking absently at the weave of one of the tacky old couches.

"Excuse me?" Mary's voice was still shaky as she continued to rub at the stains on her hands. Sherry guessed she hadn't seen her reflection clearly yet – crusted blood and other accoutrements were still stuck to her face and hair.

"I saw the way he was muscling you around back there. But you probably won't bruise much, if at all."

"How would you know?" the question was half accusatory, half resigned.

"I know what you have. I helped create it."

"But you're so…young." Sherry just shrugged in reply.

"I can help you," she offered, coming around the couch to stand closer to Mary, trying not to inhale the noxious smell radiating off of her.

"Why would you bother?"

"We have to stick together now, people like us," Sherry felt another surge of grief grip at her stomach, twisting and cramping her guts. It was the same thing Albert had said to placate her when she'd been feeling particularly surly or depressed. The image of him sprawled helplessly on the floor, his muscles twitching and straining as he was butchered alive filled her with a rage so deep she couldn't yet begin to comprehend it. Mary nodded

"I think you might be right," she said simply and took her leave, dragging her body heavily towards the nearest shower. Sherry, left alone, sat limply in the nearest armchair, pulling her knees up and wrapped around her legs and stared out towards where the sun was beginning to set. It was going to be a long night, but that was fine – it was going to take a long time to put her thoughts in order.