The trip back was uneventful, but the arrival was really something. After Elleah had passed out, Luis let go of the controls to tend to her and Leon kept them going until the second backup chopper located them. The DSO got fully involved upon hearing Leon's partial report, and as soon as they landed at the designated location – a private hospital well outside of D.C. – they were all put into immediate quarantine and prepped for surgery.

Luis's case was a little tricky, and it took a lot of intervention from Leon to keep things smooth. Benford was still en route when they arrived, so some bigwig within the organization, a man named Simmons with whom Leon was only vaguely familiar, was taking charge. Upon learning that Luis was the head researcher of the Plagas he was highly suspicious, and Leon had to put his foot down to prevent him from taking Luis into custody upon touching ground. It helped, of course, that Luis was the only man in the world who was capable of presiding over the Plaga removal. Hunnigan helped out here, going behind Simmons's back to relay this information to President Graham, who was also on his way to the hospital. Graham called Simmons up and unleashed seven shades of holy hell on the man, ordering him to not only not arrest Luis, but to give the man everything he asked for and furthermore treat him with the utmost respect. Benford had arrived shortly thereafter, Simmons had left, and everything else had gone smoothly.

Leon had woken up from his own surgery the previous day to find Adam Benford, head of the DSO, in his room, reading a book.

He'd looked up from it and said, "Leon, it's good to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

Looking around and seeing himself in a sterile room with a superior present – and a friend, to boot – he'd honestly been able to say, "Once I get a decent meal in me, I'll be right as rain."

Adam had smiled and called in a nurse. She'd wheeled in a covered dinner tray. Leon, expecting hospital food, had been thrilled to see nothing less than a fat, juicy steak. Also, lots of mashed potatoes, half a loaf of garlic bread, and a small salad.

"Your country thanks you," Adam had said laughingly. "And what better way to say, 'thank you,' to Leon Scott Kennedy than with a prime cut?"

"Medium rare?" He'd asked.

"Just the way you like it."

He'd had been in heaven, pain of his injuries and remnant weakness from overexertion aside. Before digging in, he'd asked, "Hey – Ashley, Aurelleah, Luis, Mike – are they all okay?"

Adam had nodded. "They're all fine, though Aurelleah had some complications with her surgery and has yet to wake up. She'll be alright, though. She just needs a bit more rest than the others. What happened to her, if I might ask?"

Leon had paused with a fork full of food and looked up at the ceiling, considering how to answer this question succinctly enough that his steak wouldn't be cold by the time he finished. After a moment, he decided on, "She fought back," and dug in.

Adam seemed to consider this an acceptable response. He'd nodded, and let Leon finish up his meal in peace.

Now, the following day, he was on his feet again. Sore and tired still, but mobile. Ashley was also alright, and Aurelleah had woken up just a few hours prior. She'd needed a bit more medical intervention, but it seemed like she was about ready to join the rest of them. They'd all been under strict quarantine until various medical experts could determine that they weren't carrying anything transmissible – Aurelleah's cold was already going away, so they weren't counting that – and after going through half a dozen different sanitizing procedures which Leon was used to and Luis and the girls were not, they were finally ready to head out. Mike was staying in bed, as his injuries were even more severe than Aurelleah's, and he, furthermore, did not currently have any family to greet outside. Leon had been glad to hear that Mike would suffer no permanent injuries…other than some pretty horrific facial scars. And his family was on the way as well, though it would take them a couple days to get there.

They'd still all be confined to the hospital for at least a few days, but President Graham was just outside, waiting for his daughters to be released from quarantine. Under the strict recommendation of Benford, Jonathan Graham had not been allowed in to see his daughters. The risk of the unknown organism, the Plaga, had been too high. Now, however, there was a general consensus that no one was contagious, sniffles and mild cough aside. The white-coats were satisfied. Visiting hours were on the table.

Leon sat in the waiting room, ready to be released. He was the first one out here. The door opened and he looked over to see Ashley walking in. Her ruined outfit had been replaced with a new getup – not hospital clothes, but in that general vein. Soft, clean white cottons. Benford had brought an outfit by for him specifically, knowing his style, so Leon was sitting comfortable in a pair of black jeans, a navy blue dress shirt, and a black jacket with racing stripes.

He stood as she walked in. Looked like Aurelleah wasn't coming out yet, and Luis was nowhere to be seen, so that just left him and Ashley alone together. There were guards outside, but none in here.

Ashley walked up to him. "Hey, Leon. You doing alright?"

"Never better," Leon said. In truth he was still bucking the start of a mild infection from the wound on his chest, he was sore as all hell, and he felt like he could eat a couple more cows and sleep for a week, but that wasn't the sort of thing you let on to someone right after you'd sustained the damage saving their life.

Ashley clearly didn't believe him. She rolled her eyes, smiling slightly, but then looked down at the ground and blushed.

Leon knew at once that something was up, and he suspected he knew what it was. He braced himself for the inevitable as she drew closer.

It took her a moment to work up the courage to speak, but when she did, she said, "So, Leon…maybe when we get out of here for good, and we get back home, how about we do some…um…overtime."

The question was asked steadily enough, but he could hear the underlying trepidation in her voice. The fear of rejection.

Sadly, that was one fear he was going to have to justify. And not only because it would have been majorly inappropriate; going to bed with a girl he'd rescued was against his code of honor. But anyways, it just wasn't something he was up for just then. Not with Ada still so fresh in his mind.

He offered her a half-smile and shake of the head. "Sorry."

To his relief, she didn't get flustered or upset. She blushed a little harder, that was all. "Somehow I knew you'd say that; but it doesn't hurt to ask, you know? So, uh, who exactly was that woman, anyway?"

He sighed internally. Some girls were just too damn intuitive. "Why do you ask?" He replied casually.

"Oh, come on, tell me!" She pressed. She really looked interested. Maybe she just wanted to know who she was being turned down for.

For the first time since waking up, that image flashed behind his eyes again. He'd recalled it vividly just before going under for surgery, and he recalled it just as vividly now. That deep crimson dress clinging to her frame; the rainwater cascading off of her; all that strength, determination. Even the pain of her latest betrayal couldn't mar the beauty.

"She's like a part of my I just can't let go," he said simply. "Let's leave it at that."

Ashley looked like she understood, and he appreciated that. She'd grown up a lot in the last few days, he could tell. She was far closer to a woman than the girl he'd met.

Still mostly a girl, though.

The door opened, and Elleah walked in, Luis just behind her, ready to offer support if she stumbled or fell. Indeed, she looked very shaky on her feet, and Leon suspected that the only reason she wasn't in a wheelchair was because she'd insisted upon greeting her father on her own two feet. When Ashley saw her, she squealed loudly and ran over, slowing down and gently wrapping her up in a hug.

Aurelleah looked incredibly happy to see her sister, and that cheered Leon up, too. He'd tried to save a lot of people in his time, and God knew he hadn't always managed it. But sometimes he did alright, and it was times like these that reminded him what he was fighting for.

Luis, too, looked glad. He'd stepped back to give them some room, and was smiling down at the pair. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and let the two get through their assurances that the other was okay. He was dressed in white cottons similar to Ashley's and Aurelleah's. A bandage on his face covered the cut he'd gotten in one of the brawls, and Leon knew he had a few other bandages here and there.

When they were satisfied, Ashley turned to Luis. Leon couldn't see her expression, but he suspected it wasn't entirely friendly. She was still protective of her little sister, after all, and—

Leon's eyebrows shot up as she lunged forward suddenly, tackling the man in a hug. Luis also looked extremely surprised, arms going up in a don't-hurt-me gesture. Upon realizing that it really was just a hug, he patted her quizzically on the back. "Ey, your highness, maybe I did botch your surgery after all. You seem to have a touch of brain damage."

She let go with a mild screech of frustration and lightly punched him on the shoulder. He laughed, as did Elleah. Then she stepped back, brushed a strand of hair out of her face, and said, "Whatever. I just wanted to say thank you for everything you did for us. And, you know, for saving my little sister. But if you don't want it…"

Luis shrugged. "Ah, alright. I guess I'll take that. Happy to be of service." He bowed facetiously at the waist, winking at Elleah on the way up as Ashley whirled away with a huff.

The door opened again, and a nurse poked his head in. "Sorry to interrupt, but you're all welcome to go through any time you'd like. Mr. Graham is waiting."

He didn't add the word anxiously, but he didn't need to. The man was probably waiting on pins and needles to see his daughters.

They both looked towards the door. Ashley started to run for it, but realizing that her little sister could manage little more than a hobble, she slowed down, keeping her impatience to a mild bounce.

Leon stepped towards the door and, as the girls approached, pushed it open and held it for them. Again, who said he couldn't be a gentleman?

Just outside the door, leaning against the wall looking bored, was a man he'd seen around a couple of times and knew by reputation rather than personal experience. Looked like they'd dispatched the best to make sure nothing went awry if the Plagas turned out to be anything like the t-virus, because the security detail for the quarantine ward was one Chris Redfield.

The girls didn't spare the man a glance as they stepped out to greet their father, who was pacing back and forth, head down, looking worried. He was a short-ish, round-faced man with a tousled mop of light brown hair. Upon hearing the door open, he looked up, and Leon saw where the girls got their smiles.

The man's face lit up like the Fourth of July, and he ran forward, carefully sweeping both girls into his embrace and holding them close without saying a word. Ashley hugged him back, looking perfectly at home, but Leon could tell that Aurelleah was just the slightest bit tense at the overwhelming affection her father was showering her with. She quickly relaxed into it, however, and Leon saw a few tears welling up in her eyes as she laid her head on her father's shoulder.

Just behind Jonathan Graham, waiting and watching with an air that was less relieved and more borderline frantic, was the woman who had definitely given Ashley all of her other looks…as well as her haughty disposition. Long, blonde hair, golden-brown eyes, a figure to die for, and an outfit that had probable cost ten grand. Oh, yeah, that was the First Lady.

He could tell that she was worried, but he could also see that she had eyes only for her own daughter. She was standing off to the side, ready to rush over to Ashley as soon as her husband let go, but she hadn't once looked at Elleah.

Let go Jonathan did, and it was just as Leon predicted. Christine Graham dashed over to Ashley and started frantically looking her over and bombarding her with questions – "Are you alright? Did they touch you? Do you have any injuries, any scars? Don't worry, honey, we'll get you all fixed up in no time," – but she didn't spare a single glance for Elleah.

Elleah, for her part, looked nothing but relieved. She stepped back to stand beside Luis, who was staring at her stepmother with narrowed eyes that glittered with distaste.

Leon stepped aside, letting the doors to the room close, and watched as the family got reacquainted. Luis caught his eye, then bent down and said something quietly to Aurelleah. She nodded. He said something else, and she giggled. He smirked, looking pleased with himself, and stepped over to where Leon was. This was a Graham family moment.

Jonathan led Aurelleah over to a bench so she could sit down, and the girls started chattering a million miles a minute, telling him about the whole thing. He caught a whole slew of snippets. Clearly they considered each part of the story more important than the last, because they could hardly stay focused on any one thing.

"…this guy just grabbed me out of nowhere. I think he knocked me out with formaldehyde, you know, that stuff we used to kill insects with in my high school advanced bio class?"

"Yeah, that was the stuff. He used it on me, too..."

"…and she like, puffed out up so the ropes would be kind of loose, and when he left she was able to wiggle out of them…"

"…left some tracks in the mud, then backtracked through them so he wouldn't know which way I went…"

"…all the way to this big, creepy church in a graveyard, and I sat around in there for HOURS."

"…until I heard gunshots. I had to dodge a bunch of those guys, but I followed the sound of the gunfire, and I found Leon!"

And then they were telling him about Leon.

"He was taking down like twenty guys at once, and he never even got hurt! And those were just the normal guys…"

…and I helped him get through the gate! He gave me a lift so I could get over it, and I jumped down to the other side and opened it up!"

"She did! And then we got to the cabin, and we met Luis."

They both leaned over and pointed to Luis, who was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, resting. He opened them, smiled and waved, and when they got back to chatting, he yawned widely and went back to resting. Leon could see his lips twitching as the girls described him, though. Especially when Ashley elected to skip the 'ballistics' comment.

"…and he helped Leon kill the village leader. The whole warehouse was on fire, he didn't care, he just busted a window and went right in…

"…led us to the castle, and got us past all these traps and puzzles and stuff, and he helped Leon kill a ton of those Ganados…"

"…watched out for me and got me the medication while Leon went to rescue Ashley…"

"…and you know what? He didn't have to do any of that AT ALL. He could have just left. He went through all of that just to help us and Leon. Dad, you can get him citizenship, right? I mean, he doesn't really have a home anymore, and he said he'd really like to move here…."

"Yes, of course, I'll make that a priority," Jonathan Graham replied. Luis's eyes opened once again, and Elleah poked her head around her dad and gave him a big grin and a thumbs up.

He looked a bit taken aback. Leon leaned over and said, "Had your doubts?"

He watched the conversation continued, blinking rapidly as he processed how easily his future here had been secured. "Eh, maybe a few."

The story continued.

"…this little freakshow named Salazar. He had the most annoying voice in the world, and you would not believe what kinds of things he said to us…"

"…all over this castle. And then Saddler found us, and he caught me, but Luis traded him that sample in exchange for letting me go. Can you believe that? He did that for me."

Leon noticed that she'd skipped the part about her saving Luis, and going by the raised eyebrow, Luis noticed as well. He'd probably fill in a few of those gaps – not all, but a few – later. Elleah was a humble girl. She'd need the rest of them to do her story justice for her.

Ashley was certainly doing it justice. "…and you should have seen Elleah. She kept those cultists off of me with her slingshot, like, no problem. I mean, I'd seen her using it, but she literally stopped two cultists from killing us, and kept their attention on her so I could open the gates. And I wanted to just wait around for Leon to find us, but she kept us going, and I don't know what would have happened if she hadn't. She was so brave, dad."

He smiled broadly and looked highly pleased, reaching down to give his youngest another hug. "Oh, I knew that already," he said. Her face was flushed with embarrassment at her sister's praise, but she looked happy anyways, and returned the favor by talking up Ashley's accomplishments as well – the puzzle solving in the catacombs, saving her from the Novistador ambush...

This went on and on for a good hour or so. When Aurelleah reached the part about the Verdugo, however, it became clear that she needed a break.

"…was so fast you could hardly…" she yawned widely, and this gave way to a cough. "…even see it move."

Jonathan held up a hand for pause. "Elleah, as riveting as this story is, it can wait until you've gotten more rest. Aside from the fact that you're still sick, you're practically falling asleep on me. And given that you're talking about fighting a mutant humanoid insect with unbreakable skin that could move like the roadrunner, that's saying something. What do you say we take a break, and finish up this story tonight, after dinner?"

Ashley nodded her fervent agreement. "Sounds like a plan. What's for dinner?"

"Well, what do you girls want?"

Ashley and Aurelleah looked at each other, then both said, "Sushi?"

Graham chuckled. "Sushi it is. With that odd ice cream you like? The one that's covered in rice-paper or something?"

"Mochi!"

"Chocolate mochi!"

"Strawberry!"

"Oh, and a big cup of oolong tea. Actually, could I have that now?"

Throughout all of this, the First Lady – Christine – had somehow managed to make not looking at her youngest daughter completely natural, and Aurelleah had responded in kind. It was like they had a perfect little family ecosystem going on, one in which those two females each managed to occupy separate, distinct niches without setting one toe into the other's biome. It was impressive…in a depressing kind of way.

But Aurelleah seemed happy with it, so he didn't have any qualms.

The girls got up, and their doctor was called in to explain their living conditions for the next few days. Leon listened in idly. When the girls turned to go, they both waved to them. Luis, who was still resting, didn't notice, but Leon nodded his farewell. It was only a brief one. They'd be hanging around in the same hospital until they were recovered, so they'd be seeing plenty of each other. He'd drop in on Aurelleah later to make sure she was alright. He was sure she'd appreciate it.

He noticed President Graham watching him and realized that his Commander in Chief was looking to talk to him. He quickly dismissed the moment's sentimentality. He wasn't technically on duty at this point, being in recovery; but if you were in the military, then when the President was around you were always on duty.

He stood up straight and said, "Mr. President."

Jonathan Graham walked up to him, his face round and serious. Leon sensed that there was a handshake coming. He put out his hand, and was taken by surprise when the man grabbed it and pulled him in for a hug.

It took Leon a second to react, and he patted the man on the back. Graham let go and stepped back, still holding Leon's hand, and said, "Thank you for bringing my daughters back to me."

Leon looked again, and realized that he'd mistaken earnestness for seriousness. He made it a double handshake, pumped once, and said, "It's an honor to serve, sir. And I'm glad to see them back safe and sound. They're both incredible young women."

Graham nodded. Then he turned to Luis.

"So," he said. "You're the scientist who made these Plagas?"

Luis opened his eyes, face expressionless, and stood up off the wall. "Yes, sir."

Leon was surprised to hear genuine humility in the man's voice. Graham noticed this, and nodded. "And you're also the man who worked with Agent Kennedy to put an end to it, and to save my daughters from this cult – Los Illuminados."

Luis nodded. "Yes, sir."

Graham held his gaze for a long moment, then reached out and took Luis's hand in a hearty handshake. "Thank you as well, then, for bringing my daughters home to me. They both seem to hold you in very high regard. Please, rest assured that I will personally oversee your nationalization and accommodations – unless you have any other plans, of course. I'd like to talk more later, but for now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to make sure my girls are settled."

Luis nodded, once more looking taken for a turn by the hospitality he was being shown.

Graham turned to go. His wife followed him. She hadn't once paid them any attention, and he wondered if she was perhaps anti-military. It wasn't uncommon.

When they'd departed, Leon decided it was time to collect his personal belongings and get started on his report.

He and Luis headed towards the window that allowed for item pickup from quarantine. Leon nodded to Redfield as he walked by, once again skipping on a formal introduction with the man. Redfield nodded back, then pulled out a radio and began talking into it. Sounded like he was checking up on the Plagas test results. He was on edge. Leon could respect that, and he was glad there was someone here who knew how dangerous these things could be.

Luis followed him, then said, "That was the President of the United States of America?"

Leon looked over, curious at Luis's disbelieving tone. "Yeah. Why?"

"He hugged you. And he just seemed very…how do I put this…"

He thought about it for a moment, and Leon honestly wasn't sure what he was about to say. Then he snapped his fingers and said, "Human. He seemed very human."

Leon snorted. "Yeah, probably because he's a human. Most of us are. What were you expecting– an emu?"

Luis replied flatly, "I was expecting a Salazar. After all, that is largely what I have been raised to expect out of my leaders."

Leon considered that. Of course, those in positions of power in his village had no doubt always gone to great lengths to project an almost god-like persona. Salazar's presence in particular had been stifling. To have the leader of a powerful nation showing such simple emotions as happiness and gratitude, especially in front of soldiers and foreigners, must have beer jarring, maybe even a little uncomfortable.

They approached the nurse working the window. "Hi. Leon Scott Kennedy, here to pick up my belongings."

Luis added, "And Dr. Luis Sera, same goal."

"Certainly, right away."

They went through the whole rigamarole of checking each individual item out. There were a handful of things that were still undergoing testing, and he wasn't allowed his weapons in the hospital, but everything else was given back to him, including his radio. They also gave him a new, lightweight backpack to carry everything in. It was red, but he wouldn't hold that against them.

They started handing Luis's things back. He didn't have a whole lot that could be returned right away, since many of his belongings were weapons, but he did get his camping supplies and a few personal effects back. Then the nurse pulled out a large lockbox and said, "Er, apologies, sir. The lockbox had to be forced open to check for dangerous objects. Nothing inside was confiscated, and you'll be reimbursed for the chest."

Luis pulled the box over. "Were any of the items damaged?"

"Item damage is typically listed, and I don't see anything here, so there shouldn't be any damage. If you're concerned, though, you're welcome to check yourself and I'll file any grievances. You'll be reimbursed for any damages."

Luis nodded, opened the box, and pulled something out that was packaged in sterile plastic and cushioned in thick white cloth. It looked obvious that these items had all been pulled out, tested for bugs, then rewrapped in new packaging.

Luis didn't seem to mind, and started carefully unfurling the wrapping. The nurse watched, first curious, then wide-eyed as Luis first undressed a magnificent golden crown. It was done in what Leon supposed was traditional European style, with stylized crosses and the family emblem set in the front. It shone with cut and polished gems of multiple colors.

"Uh, is that real?" Leon asked.

Luis smirked. "The Salazar family crown. I figured some ancient Spanish heirlooms like this would sell for a fair bit if I could find the right buyer. I wasn't planning on starting off my new life completely destitute, you know. And it wasn't as though I needed to feel bad about stealing such heirlooms from Salazar. He'd rejected and dishonored his entire lineage, after all."

Next, he pulled out what Leon suspected would be a scepter of some kind. Sure enough, unwrapping it revealed a rod of gold, finely wrought, with ivory set into it in various places and a shiny red head engraved with the Salazar family crest again. A ruby topped the whole thing.

"The scepter of royalty," Luis said, inspecting it closely and setting it aside when he was satisfied that it was undamaged. He pulled out the next item. A mirror, gold, set with at least three dozen flawless white pearls and four fine rubies. Or garnets. Leon didn't really know how to tell red gems at a glance.

"This one was always passed down to the women of the Salazar line, either by marriage or birth, when they came of age to marry. Fourteen, in my society, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't. Got any more?"

"Two," he said. "But these two are more recent. These were forged as sacred objects of Los Illuminados, intended to become relics of the religion. This," he said, unwrapping a small golden idol of some kind, "Is the Golden Lynx. Its eyes are gems known as the Blue Stone of Faith, the Red Stone of Treason, and above them, the Green Stone of Judgement. Sapphire, ruby, emerald – all very high quality, I assure you. And the Lynx itself is solid gold."

The nurse was watching all of this come out in a daze. The gold alone, if it was anything like high quality, was going to be worth tens of thousands. But if he found a collector interested in purchasing the mint-condition, centuries-old remnants of a legitimate royal family of Spain, Luis could feasibly end up a millionaire.

"Last but not least, the Illuminados Pendant." He held this up. A finely-wrought golden chain suspended what Leon recognized as a ruby cabochon – or, again, garnet – overlaid with the cult's insignia. The cabochon was extremely large.

The nurse gaped at it. "That has to be a sixty-carat gem," he said faintly.

Luis clicked his tongue. "Too bad it is sullied with such a foul insignia, otherwise I would gift it to Aurelleah. I think she would look stunning in red. Alas, to market it shall go. Now then," he said, wrapping all the treasures up and putting them back in the lockbox with a wink. "I think I'll leave this with you until I am more securely situated. I assume it will be kept safe, yes?"

The nurse's face flushed as Luis pushed the box over. "Y-y-y-yes! Of course! Uhhh…"

They left the befuddled nurse to deal with the box containing millions in gold and gems and cultural significance. If this had been a public hospital, Leon would have advised that Luis take it with him. But this place had a good reputation. It would stay safe.

One thing he grabbed before slinging his new backpack over his shoulder was his radio. As they made their way over to the doctor who was presiding over their case, Leon said, "I want to give Hunnigan a quick call before settling down for my report. What are you going to do?"

Luis yawned and stretched. "Get some more rest, man. And see if I won't be able to take a soak. I'd pretty much kill for a bath at this point."

"That can be arranged," the doctor said smoothly as they came up to him. "In the meantime, I'll have one of the nurses show you to your new room. Everything feel fine? You've been on your feet for an hour."

"Everything is sore. But other than that, fine. None of my scrapes or scratches feel like they are infected. But, incidentally…is there a place a guy can get a smoke in here?"

The doctor sighed. Leon chuckled and walked off to catch a quiet hallway.

He found a door leading out to an unoccupied balcony. He stepped outside and squinted at the sunlight. Bright and cold…but it felt great to see the sun again.

It wasn't gonna last long; they were in D.C. in the winter. Most of the sky was grey, and the sun was only passing through. Leon enjoyed it until a cloud drifted in front of it. He could still appreciate the silver light lining it, and the blue poking through elsewhere in the sky. While he was admiring this, he picked up his radio and called his FOS.

It took her a minute to respond. Still, he was glad she did at all, since he was no longer on duty and she was no longer obligated to pick up. "Leon," she said. "Recovery going well?"

"Great," he replied. "Got to see the girls reunited with their family. Honestly, didn't really feel like the mission was over until that happened."

"It's good to hear everything turned out alright. Have you started on your report yet?"

He rolled his head along his neck. "Just about to. Enjoying the sunshine for a second before I get cracking on it. You know the only time it wasn't overcast the whole time I was there was at night? And it was raining throughout half the mission, too. I thought my underwear would never dry out."

Hunnigan shook her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Glad to hear you survived the miserable conditions. Let me know when you have that report, Leon."

"Will do," he replied. "And Hunnigan – thank you for your support on the mission, and for helping smooth out our arrival. It's good to have you waiting in the wings."

He thought he saw the hint of a smile on her otherwise stoic face, and just for a moment, it made her look really, really nice. Nicer than she normally did, that was. She was not an unattractive woman, by any means. If he hadn't had other things on his mind, he might have dropped another line. Hell, maybe he'd try it next week, when Ada had become nothing but a memory again.

"Keeping things going smoothly is my job," she said. "Talk to you later, Leon. And one more thing – get well soon, okay?"

He winked at her and terminated the call. That was one thing he definitely intended to get on top of, ASAP.

Well, that and his report. With one last longing glance at the sky, he turned and headed back into the building to flag down a nurse. He had paperwork to do.

Ada sat in the comfortable leather seat of the chopper as it landed in the remote and scenic location in South America. Wesker was forever on the move, but he preferred places with a certain degree of natural splendor when it was feasible. This quarter's research facility was in a rainforest.

She stepped out of the helicopter and tensed upon seeing the man of the hour standing at the end of the tarmac, staring at a tree branch. This was unexpected, as he was almost always to be found perusing the research labs or running viral simulations in one of his private offices. She would have preferred to drop the 'Sample' off and be on her way without a face-to-face confrontation, but he appeared to have other plans.

She pulled her belongings out and handed them off to the hazmat suit-wearing assistants who were there to transport the materials to the lab for study. Wesker, meanwhile, gave no indication that he had heard her arrival, only continued to stare at the tree.

She knew things wouldn't go well for her if she ignored him altogether, so she walked over and looked where he was looking. At first, she thought he was just admiring the lichen. It took her a long moment to recognize what the object of his interest was.

It was a lizard – a gecko, which was all but flawlessly camouflaged as a leaf. It even had holes in the webbing on its back and toes.

"A marvelous specimen, is it not?" Wesker said after she'd had time to spot the object of his interest. "How cleverly it hides itself, pretending to be something so innocuous."

Wesker was in a playful mood. That much was obvious by his tone. She'd need to be on her guard. "I have the Sample, as well as several other acquisitions – all the tidbits you requested, and a few extra besides."

"Delightful." He didn't sound particularly delighted. "And Krauser?"

Her radio had been damaged in her first confrontation with Saddler. She hadn't need able to contact him on the way back to brief him on her final mission status.

"Dead," she shrugged. "His Plaga drove him mad, and Leon was able to dispatch him. He injected himself with the Dominant strain, you know."

Wesker sounded amused. "Yes, I know. And Leon? Did you ever manage to kill him?"

"He slipped away after killing Saddler for us, unfortunately," Ada said. Now here was the moment of truth: would Wesker believe her…or were things about to get messy?

He'd explicitly stated that it was her job to clean up the remains of the final battle between Leon and Saddler. She'd already worked up a plausible explanation for her failure to do so. It would go into her report, but first it would have to be relayed to Wesker face-to-face. Unfortunate, but she was sure she could spin the fable just fine.

He spoke, but it was not her report that interested him just then. "Unfortunate, indeed. And the doctor, and girls as well; I've already heard that they reached home safely and soundly. Another shame – I'd have liked the youngest Graham for my research."

It seemed that he wasn't presently interested in Leon or her report. She was truly curious about this continued interest in Aurelleah, though, even if it was a subject she'd probably have done well to avoid. "Why, Wesker? Why that girl and not her older sister? What made her so special?"

"Oh, didn't you realize? She was infected with a Dominant strain Plaga."

This came as a genuine shock to Ada. The girl, infected with a Dominant Plaga? The implications of this were…considerable.

Wesker chuckled. "Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't intuit that yourself. The signs were all over the place. Of course, confirmation only came when Dr. Sera made to remove it. I had Krauser link up surveillance for me on that machine, so I could see what it saw. And what wonders I saw."

He grew quiet, and now she saw his smile fade. As harsh, tropical birdsong washed over them from the forest canopy, he looked straight ahead through his dark sunglasses, and she got the sense he was no longer staring at the lizard. "I saw power within her," he said slowly. "Unfathomable potential, if shaped correctly. Not perfection, not by any means…but superiority to humanity by a vast margin. And yet, she chose mortal frailty. Indeed, she would have preferred death. Death over power."

He looked to be deep in thought over this. At last he shook his head and said a handful of words that Ada honestly could not have predicted ever coming out of the mouth of Albert Wesker.

"I do not understand."

Ada considered this. Then she said, "Have you ever read the Chronicles of Narnia?"

Wesker did not respond to this immediately. There was a delay. Then his brows creased. Then he tilted his sunglasses down and looked at her, serpentine eyes a mellow, questioning gold.

She forced herself not to titter. That was as close to perplexed as Wesker was ever likely to look. "It holds a number of interesting moral lessons, and something the girl said makes be believe that she takes inspiration from it. At one point, in the first book, a boy named Diggory is offered power. Immortality – endless youth and strength. He declines the offer, however, stating that he wouldn't care much for eternal life if it meant watching those he loved grow old and die around him. Does that answer your question?"

Wesker continued to stare at her, and there was a glimmer in his eyes that she wasn't sure she liked.

"Love?" He prompted. She nodded.

He chuckled and returned his sunglasses to their normal position. "Ah, love, of course…such a curiosity. I once dismissed it, and still I do at times; but I've seen more and more often as of late how powerful a force it can be. It can move people to act in extraordinary ways and accomplish extraordinary feats. Love…"

He took a deep breath, and tilted his head. When he continued the sentiment, his voice was as cold as death. "Love is a disease, and I would see humanity cured of it."

A shiver ran down Ada's spine, and she could not stop the hairs from rising on the back of her neck. Wesker was always an unnerving man to be around, but at times he acted a genuine demon. She was eager to be rid of his presence.

He glanced over at her. He must have seen her body's autonomous response to his tone and words, because he cackled with sudden glee. "Ha! But I jest. I think there is some room for it. The world would be an awfully dull place without it. Tell me, Ada, what do you think of the gecko?"

She blinked at the abrupt change in topic, trying to connect this question to the previous theme, and seeing no relation. It was a fresh prompt. Meanwhile, he continued chortling. She wasn't sure, but she thought that Wesker may have been…messing with her?

He was in a good mood today. Either that or a very, very bad one. As she ran a quick mental catalogue of her remaining weaponry, she noticed a flash of color out of the corner of her eye, and settled upon it for response as it drifted towards them. "I think it an interesting creature, but no more. If you are asking whether I relate to it, I cannot say that I do. I find myself more admiring of such a creature as that."

She pointed to the butterfly that had just approached them on the light breeze. It, too, lit on the branch, and not far removed from the gecko. Its wings were a bright, vibrant orange bordering on crimson, edged with black.

"The butterfly?" Wesker asked. He sounded curious.

Ada hummed her affirmation. "You know why?"

He rolled his head back and forth, then said, "I cannot hazard a guess."

"Because," she said coolly. "It speaks its nature with every wingbeat. Its message is in its color, and it is clear for the forest to see. Do not attempt to eat me – I am poisonous. If you try it, you will not care for the results."

She could not spell it out any more clearly for him. If he wanted to try something, it would end poorly for him…one way or another.

Suddenly, as the butterfly made a move for a flower sitting between it and the hidden reptile, the little beast lunged forward and snapped the insect up, unheeding of its protective coloration. The butterfly vanished down the gecko's gullet. Some creatures had a taste for poisonous things, it seemed.

Wesker threw back his head and roared with laughter. It was inhumanly loud, and all throughout the forest, birds and beasts took to flight with shrieks and chitters and songs of alarm before vanishing into the distance. Within twenty seconds, his was the only living sound in earshot.

Ada forced herself not to wince at the volume, but it was downright rude. She turned away as he continued howling his mirth, and he paused a moment to ask, "Where are you going?"

"To take a bath, eat some dinner, and get some sleep. We humans need maintenance."

Wesker continued his one-man cacophony. She could still hear him laughing as she stepped inside the base and headed towards her lodgings. She intended to be out of here before sunrise tomorrow, and she was sure she could fit in a bath, a meal, and even a few hours rest before then. She couldn't afford to wait any longer, though – it would not take Wesker long to realize that the sample she had given him contained no Dominant. No, that was safely tucked away amongst her own belongings, and she'd need to move it along fairly quickly. The Organization was waiting.

As she slipped into her room and began undressing, she thought about Leon. She didn't like having to betray him over and over, but she also knew that he would never forsake her, no matter how many times she did the same to him. She held a power over him that she did not fully understand, but that she intended to use, regardless.

She wondered about him. If he'd reached home without any more incidences. He must have, if the girls had. She wondered, too, if he'd had the Plaga out yet, or was perhaps getting it out now. She thought about how he'd looked up at her before she'd thrown him the rocket launcher on the island, and the frustration in his voice when he'd called her name as she'd taken her leave. Indeed, she thought about all the times and all the tones in which he'd called her name. And all the ways he might.

She'd reached her room. She slid her dress off and let the sullied crimson cloth pool on the floor. Her fingers trailed down her sides as her thoughts drifted lazily across the man, who was no doubt horizontal by now, wherever he was. He could only run on fumes so long before collapsing, though it was astonishing how long he lasted.

How long indeed. She wetted her lips, slightly chapped with the high altitude and cold air of the chopper ride, but quickly recovering in the warm and humid atmosphere.

She found her fingers sliding slowly across the various straps and belts that adorned her legs, keeping her equipment in place. She released them one by one, hanging them up when she was finished. She undid her bra last of all, slid her undergarments off, and, fully unclothed, stepped into the bathroom.

She started the hot water running. First, a shower to rinse off. As she waited for the water to warm, she stepped over to the intercom and phoned for a meal to be delivered to her dorm. After specifying what she wanted – she had full run of the kitchen at her rank – she hung up and stepped into the shower.

She took the washcloth and ran it across her skin, scrubbing off the grit that had accumulated over the last few days. She despised being dirty, and was quite glad to be clean again. She soaped up, rinsed off, soaped up again. She washed her hair, scrubbed the last few lingering traces of grime off her skin and scalp, and halted the water flow.

Much, much better. Now, time for a soak.

She swapped faucets, and hot water began gushing into the tub. She sat on the edge, twirling her finger in it, adjusting the temperature until it was just right. And she thought about Leon.

Seeing him again had been such a pleasure. Seeing how he'd grown, how he'd gotten so much stronger and more skillful. Seeing how much responsibility he'd taken upon himself, and how well he shouldered it. Seeing how much he had matured – and not matured. Honestly, him and his dreadful sense of humor.

Of course, she found that endearing as well, in a roundabout sort of way. His ability to maintain his humor, even in the face of such overwhelming odds, hinted at an indominable spirit. Perhaps it was silly, but she believed that, so long as he could crack a silly one-liner in the midst of hell itself, he would never stop fighting.

Or, maybe a joke was just a joke, and she was overthinking things. Whatever the case was, the thought was dashed as she heard a knock at the door. Her food was here.

She didn't bother to dress. She walked to the door, opened it, took the plate from the gaping, stunned young male researcher – that would be a memory for him to cherish – thanked him and closed the door, turning back towards the bathroom. She loved eating while she bathed. It was terribly relaxing.

She set her plate carefully on the edge of the tub and slipped into the hot water, sighing in bliss. A fillet of yellowtail beside a bed of hot white rice sat next to her, the whole thing drizzled with a tantalizing sweet and salty sauce. Various veggies cooked various ways ringed the rest of the plate. She popped these into her mouth one after another, and when she'd had enough teasing, went for the real meal.

Aurelleah and Ashley were home. Leon and Luis as well. All had ended up just fine for them. She supposed it was even possible that Krauser had survived, and was off in pursuit of a new life for himself, assuming he'd escaped the island. Happy endings all around, tonight. Perhaps she would treat herself to one, as well. It had been a while.

Leon…

She tossed the idea back and forth in her head as her fingers trailed up and down her sides. But, even as images of that lithe and muscular body rose up in the back of her mind, she found herself yawning widely. No, she supposed this wouldn't do. As much fun as such things were, they were also energy intensive, and if she was being perfectly honest with herself, she hadn't been lying to Wesker about being in need of maintenance. She really needed her rest, and she didn't like to feel rushed or strained.

She sighed and returned her attention to the meal. Another time. Tomorrow night, perhaps. Until then, she'd be content with her memories.

They were certainly ones she'd be cherishing for a long time to come.

It was a bright, sunny day. Flowers were in bloom, a picnic or party of some sort – likely celebrating a child's birthday, going by the brightly colored balloons and Spider-man themed party favors being handed out – was taking place on the other side of the park. On this side of the park there was no play equipment. Instead, broad, smooth concrete sidewalks looped gracefully over the rolling grassy field, which was dotted with trees and shrubs. Older people tended to walk these paths, while dog-owners let their canine companions out to play with each other on the fields between.

A small pack consisting of two Labradors, a German shepherd, a tall, proud black poodle, and three small dogs of various breeds frolicked in one large patch of grass. One of them, a tiny, frail, stringy-haired grey mutt, broke from the festivities and shot across the field like a streak of grey lightning as it saw someone it knew approaching.

The large man stopped, bent down, and held out a hand. The tiny dog jumped up, leaning its whole body weight on the hand as its tiny little tail blurred with excitement. It was particularly thrilled to see him, as normally he only came in the evenings. He was out very early today. "Hi, Yoda," Krauser said, voice low and rough.

Yoda's owner, a pizza-truck driver by the name of Bren with whom Krauser did not prefer getting into conversation on account of the man's tendency to chatter, was thankfully engaged with other people. He only spared a quick, friendly wave to Krauser, not pausing in his conversation.

Krauser waved back, finished greeting the small grey dog, and stood up straight. Yoda whirled around and went to rejoin the romp. He liked Yoda. The tiny beast had been skittish when Krauser had first encountered him, being a brand-new rescue at the time, but over the last few months the little guy had become as friendly as any other dog. It was always nice to confirm that sometimes, trauma could be healed.

The ex-soldier looked around, picked out a bench far from anyone who looked to be in a talkative mood, and went to sit. He came here every day after his workout because he knew it was good for him. The normalcy. He made small-talk with people, and had even found over the months he'd been here that he liked a few of them. Mostly the older people, who had seen more of the world…but a few of the younger people, too. A very few.

Today, however, he wasn't in the mood for conversation. He sat on the bench, leaned back, and closed his eyes to enjoy the summer sun. It wasn't very warm. He was too far north for that.

He yawned. He hadn't slept well the previous night. He'd never been much one for having nightmares. Even after his first theatre, he'd only had a handful, and he'd gotten over them fast. Nothing had ever really stuck with him. But now he had something to be afraid of, so they were plaguing him. He'd just had one, and it had woken him up before sunrise – hence the early workout and subsequent walk.

The nightmares weren't of great, hulking beasts that hissed and bellowed threats in a language he could not understand. Oh, no. Nothing Los Illuminados had shown him had been able to greatly impress him, and certainly had not scared him. Nor were his nightmares of Wesker, whose draconic eyes were always searching for signs of disloyalty. If Wesker knew he was alive, then perhaps some trouble would come of that…but Krauser was alright with the idea. Some part of him was always itching for a fight, anyways. It was why he went walking in the no-go zones at night every now and then.

No. These nightmares centered around loss of control.

He'd traveled around a bit in his dreams. Sometimes he was back in the warehouse. Other times he was here, in his own home. Sometimes he found himself in past warzones, his memories of other civilians he'd had at his mercy melding into the focus of his nightmares. Whatever the setting, though, the subject remained the same.

Her.

She be there, begging him to let her go, to spare her friends. Sometimes she'd be weeping, because one or more of them were already dead, and he had done it. Whatever the case, he'd always be gripped with lust. Insatiable, uncontrollable, unwanted lust. Sometimes he managed to wake himself up from these dreams. But mostly he didn't.

At first he'd suspected it was his Plaga, brooding over his defiance of its will, taking advantage of him in his sleep when his self-control was weak. But he'd felt so little input from his Plaga these last few months, with no reduction in the number of nightmares, that he was forced to admit it – the problem was him, not his Plaga.

He was pretty sure he knew the reason they kept coming back, these nightmares. Why he kept finding her there in his sleep, slick and helpless and fearful beneath him. Why he slid into her night after night, even as his upper mind raged at him to stop because it hadn't happened that way. It had been silly to blame his Plaga when there was a far easier answer to it close at hand.

They felt great, and he was addicted to them. To the memory of her.

His brows creased, and he smoothed them out and forced his mind away from the topic. Maybe he'd get himself a shrink one of these days, help him work this shit out. For now, he'd just work himself to the bone, try to get himself tired out before bed each night, and hope for the best.

He heard the light padding of paws approach him, and felt a nose poking at his crotch.

That did not help. He opened his eyes and stared down. A big, happy-looking chocolate lab, one he did not recognize, was focused intently on its olfactory investigation. As he caught its eye, its attention slid up to him, and it looked up, grinning its cheerful dog-grin.

"Oh! Chi-chi, don't pester the man!"

Krauser snorted and crossed one leg over his knee as the owner, a pretty woman in her mid-twenties, scurried up to them.

The dog looked nonplussed that Krauser had covered his crotch, but pressed its head onto his lap regardless, eager to be acquainted. He reached down to pet the beast, and could tell at once that this dog was a cuddler.

"I'm sorry," the woman said, smiling sheepishly. "I hope he didn't disturb you."

Krauser said, "Not at all. If I was bothered by the idea of being periodically disturbed by random, friendly dogs, I'd pick somewhere else to enjoy my naps."

The girl laughed. She had a nice laugh, with just the hint of a potential snort in it. He thought he could make her snort if he made her laugh hard enough.

What a silly thought.

"It's a nice day, isn't it?" She said. Making small talk, and in no hurry to move along. She wanted to prolong the conversation.

He nodded, and discovered that he wasn't averse. Anyways, talk was good at times like these. He needed a distraction. "Very. Name's Marcus," he said, holding out a hand.

She took it, smile widening. "Anna," she replied, shaking it.

She noticed the crimson scars that still adorned his arm. Not really scars, of course – just remnant tissue from his Plaga that he didn't seem to be able to will away – but no matter. They were visible and unusual, so scars were close enough. When people asked, he said they were from burns.

Most people's eyes flitted onto them, then off again nervously as they tried politely not to look at them. This girl, however, examined them curiously and candidly for a long moment. There wasn't any pity or embarrassment on her face. She was just interested.

That was unusual, and he found that he liked it. She didn't ask about them, however, and once she was done looking, she returned her attention to his face and said, "Do you come here often?"

He nodded, and before he knew it, they were chatting.

They asked about each other's work, where they lived – both nearby – and about hobbies and movies and books. They talked about upcoming plans, and the upcoming election, the upcoming weather. They talked about…

Well, they talked.

There were very few young people he could tolerate, and fewer that he liked. But he already found himself liking this girl immensely. Then she asked,

"So, you nap at the park! What were you dreaming about before Chi-chi woke you up?"

He sobered. She maybe sensed this, because her cheerful disposition mellowed in response. She looked curious about what he had to say.

He thought about how best to shirk the question off, or what kind of dream he could make up. But even as he considered, he wondered…would it really be so bad to talk about it? At least in some diminished capacity?

He found himself wanting to share his problems, which was not something he was used to feeling or doing. It was unnerving.

But he did it anyways.

"I was dreaming about something that happened to me a while ago," he explained slowly, picking his words carefully. "I was in a rough situation, and I found myself dealing with someone who was in way over her head."

He'd keep things vague. He did not want her guessing at the exact nature of the interaction. To be on the safe side, he lowered his eyes to her dog's while he regaled her. He didn't want to see the questions in her face.

"Long story short, I almost hurt her. Badly. I didn't, but it was a near thing, and I still dream about it. When I dream…I usually end up hurting her. Sometimes I hurt the people close to her, too. I don't want to, but I do anyways."

Neither of them spoke for a while. He began petting Chi-chi, who was sitting between them, basking in the warmth and attention, doggishly oblivious to the seriousness of the conversation.

"Where is she now?"

He pursed his lips. As it happened, he knew where she was now. He'd been keeping tabs on her. It probably wasn't helping his nightmare issue. "She's out of that situation and back with her family. Doing well."

He glanced up at Anna. She nodded thoughtfully at this information, and looked to really be pondering the information. He saw no judgement, alarm, or disgust in her face. After a minute of looping her hair thoughtfully around her finger, smoothing it out, letting it go, and doing it again, she said, "Have you considered giving her a call? Or, if you don't want to talk to her, sending her a letter? Just to let her know that you're glad she's okay?"

His mouth opened to reply, and hung that way as he processed the advice. Send her…a letter? "What?" He asked. "I…uh…I'm not sure she'd want to hear from me. And what would be the point, anyways?"

"Well," Anna said, also speaking slowly now that she was fleshing out a difficult concept. "It just seems like there's some leftover guilt from the situation. Some worry that you may have left a scar. Do you think she maybe still thinks of you as a bad person?"

"Yes," he said flatly and without hesitation. He hadn't forgotten her merciful impulse, but he'd grown more and more convinced that it had been borne more of a weariness of bloodshed than anything like forgiveness. She probably just hadn't wanted to see a man have his brains blown out with a short-barreled shotgun.

"Then you should write to her, just let her know that you're glad things turned out alright for her, that you hope she's doing well, and that you wish her the best. Keep it short and straight to the point. Apologize, if there's anything left to apologize for. Close the chapter. Leave things on a positive note. Do you think that would help?"

The idea was absurd…but it gripped him almost at once. Write her a letter. Apologize. End things on a positive note. Would that help him?

Would it help her?

He couldn't be sure. Maybe it would. Or maybe it would just dredge up memories of something she'd rather forget. But if it could help him get rid of his nightmares, maybe it would be worth it. Maybe. There were always a lot of maybes when it came to sentimental bullshit like this.

He'd fallen silent. A wet nose nudged his hand, and he noticed that he'd stopped petting Chi-chi. He resumed, and the chocolate lab slumped contentedly against him again.

"You know," he finally said. "I think I might just give that a try. Thank you for the advice."

She beamed. "Yeah, no problem." Then she pulled out her phone, and bared her teeth in a grimace. "Oh, I'm going to be late for a meeting. I have to run. It was really nice meeting you, though! Say, why don't I normally see you around here, if you're so fond of napping in the park?"

Jack Krauser, who was now known locally as Marcus Yeager, stood, giving the lab one last pat. "I normally come down in the evenings. But maybe I'll give mornings another try sometime."

Anna smiled. "Sounds good. Hope to see you around. Bye!"

She turned to go. He really hoped he'd see her again, though it was anyone's guess if he would or not. This wasn't the only dog park in the area. There were bigger and better ones. She might decide to go to one of them.

But as she reached the edge of the park again, she stopped. She pulled something out of her pocket, leaned against a wall, and Krauser saw that she was writing something. Then she turned and began scurrying back towards him.

He waited for her to approach. She did, face slightly flushed, and thrust a piece of paper at him. "If you'd ever like to hang out, give me a call. That's my cell phone number. Texting is better, I'll get back to you faster, but you can leave a message, too. Uh, if you're ever feeling up to it, I mean."

He took the paper, looked at it, and instantly memorized the number. He wouldn't want to forget it. He smiled at her. He hoped he didn't look too bad, though he knew he probably did – the scars was still there, and still vicious to his looks. "Thanks. I'll definitely call. Actually, are you free this weekend?"

She was clearly trying not to look thrilled at her successful attempt at establishing a rapport. "Yes! I have a few things going on, but shoot me a text – I'll send you my availability. Okay, I do have to go, now. I'm going to be late!"

"Bye," he said, waving her off. She smiled widely at him one more time – she had a great smile, even if he could see slight staining on her teeth that he suspected were from either a lot of coffee or black tea – and turned to run off.

He sat back down and watched her until she was gone. He supposed he'd wait a couple hours before texting, just to avoid looking too desperate. There were other things he could do in the meantime, anyways.

He rested a short while longer, until a large cloud drifted over the sun. Then he got back up and started home. He had a nice apartment, top floor with great visibility of the surrounding city, and in a good part of town to boot. He could afford it, as he was a high-demand electrical designer in the area. He designed drones for media and civilian use. Cameras and toys and such. He kept his workspace and living spaces flawlessly clean, if a bit utilitarian. If he got a few artsier pieces in there, maybe a painting or picture or two, he thought she'd like it…if he ever ended up taking her back to it.

He'd been living in Sweden for a few months by then, doing his best to put the Illuminados incident behind him. It had been tough. After the final confrontation, he'd staggered through ranks of Ganados on his way to the coast, and, as he'd expected, had been intercepted by Ada.

He'd assumed she was going to attack, try to finish him off. He'd revved himself up for a fight, unwilling to give up on life so easily, but she'd only scoffed and tossed him a set of jet-ski keys, saying,

My jet-ski is parked in the cove around the edge of the bay up ahead. It has enough fuel to get you to the nearest Spanish port. Be a dear, and scuttle it well before you reach the coast.

He'd replied, Thought you said you were going to kill me if you saw me again.

She'd raised an eyebrow. Yes, because as you know, my word is always my bond. Still, as trustworthy and steadfast as I am, even I can utter falsehoods periodically. Unless you want another fight…?

He hadn't. He'd turned around to leave. It had been the last he'd seen or heard of her. This was the greatest mercy she could have shown him.

It baffled him to this day.

Well, maybe she'd show up someday demanding that he repay her somehow. One of two things would happen then: either he'd be so bored and sick of civilian life that he'd jump at the idea of getting back into the fray…or he'd be settled down in some variety of domestic bliss, and would not care to leave it behind.

This idea, on the surface, seemed far fetched to him. But recently he'd been noticing the couples walking through the park, hand in hand, and wondered if it would be so bad. At the very least it would present him with a new challenge. Marriage. A relationship. A family. Kids.

He shuddered. Now, that was truly nightmare fuel. Yeah, he'd stick to bachelor status for a while longer.

He reached down and touched that paper in his pocket. A while…but not forever. Maybe.

It was a nice day. Flowers were in bloom. The party was still going strong, though the canine romp had dispersed, leaving only a couple of stragglers to keep up the animal festivities. They were chasing each other around the park, bodies extending and contracting rapidly as they propelled themselves onward for the sake of pure enjoyment.

This was a nice place to live. Boring, but nice. It wasn't something he was used to. But the way he'd been used to living had nearly destroyed him, so he supposed it was time he tried something new.

He headed back to his apartment. He had a letter to write.

OoO

Almost there!

Shockwave! I hadn't planned on it, but I must admit the prospect is exciting. I loved RE5. I really enjoyed my first Chris Redfield experience, Sheva was a great character, I feel like I could have a lot of fun with jill and Stone and Excella and Ricardo. And I love Wesker. I'm sure I'd enjoy writing a fair bit more on him, maybe coming up with my own take on the culmination of the game. I know there are a lot of theories running around.

And I've already toyed around with the idea of tossing Aurelleah into that story, but I'd probably come up with a new OC for it, given how much I enjoy my romantic pairings. Aurelleah is taken, and she's pretty happy where she is. The thought of maybe tossing an OC who's an escaped test subject in there, or even a group of them that gets picked off one by one...oh, man, now that you've got me thinking on it, my mind is really racing. Oh, what fun!

But gosh darn it, I JUST finished this one! I have other things to write besides Resident Evil fanfiction, and 5 would take me MONTHS!

On the other hand, who knows how long this Covid bullshit will last...

Argh! I don't know. I'll think about it. If I catch a wind of passion, I'll start on it and see how it feels. If I get the urge before I start playing RE6 or RE2, both of which I now have after the Steam Summer Sale, it may well become a thing. But bear in mind that I never start uploading a story until I'm at least a couple hundred pages into it, and that would take time. If I do RE5, it'll be at least a month or two before you see anything.

But by all means, if it's really of interest to you - or anyone else, for that matter - please leave another comment or send me a PM. If it seems like I have a lot of active interest in it, I'll be much more excited about the idea. And tell me what you'd like to see! I'm really curious as to what kinds of aspects of the game people would like to have elaborated upon - the characters, the histories, the science, the monsters, so on.