Chris covered while Barry slapped cuffs on me. Could I blame them?

Not really, I'd have done the same thing…

But Christ did it hurt.

Jill wouldn't even look at me.

We touched down at RPD headquarters, a slew of medics and reps from RPD and State Police awaited us. I was marched off to a holding cell at Chris's urging, with Barry's tacit approval, Jill and Rebecca stayed silent, barely acknowledging me. Jill looked like she was in shock; Rebecca was on the verge of tears when they led me away.

My whole world was ending right in front of me, and unless I did something about it, I was going to take the fall for the whole thing in Wesker's place. The two cops escorting me were regular line guys, clearly nervous at ferrying a STARS operator, cuffed up for reasons they couldn't guess at.

They never stood a chance.

Always have a handcuff key close by kids.

Click.

I hit the big guy on the right first, slamming his head into the wall, a knee to his face put him out. The second guy, a rookie, fumbled for his gun; I punched him square in the mouth, down for the count. I felt terrible for hurting them, but I had to get away and stay away long enough to make the last phone call I wanted to make.

Minutes later, I crossed the RPD parking lot in civilian clothes, my hat pulled low on my head. I dipped and weaved down back alleys and through stores, taking the straightest route to my apartment; by some miracle, I made it, the spare key still under the mat. I pushed the door open, and the whole place was nothing but us, scattered everywhere, the slightest hints of Jill's perfume all over everything.

Now she thinks you used her at the very least, to kill our friends. Complicit in all those murders, guilty of unleashing a killer virus on unsuspecting people.

I collapsed against the door, sliding down it. It was beyond too much; everything over the last eighteen hours was enough to kill a man long after the fight as over, but losing my team, my brothers and sisters, AND Jill, all over a madman's wild claim?

It almost killed me right then and there.

But I had to get up, they were looking for me now, and this was the first place they'd look, if I had any chance at all, it would be to keep moving. I stumbled down the hall toward the bedroom, pulling the closet door open and rifling past Jill's clothes, ignoring the pain that lanced through me. I pulled a bag from the crawlspace, grabbing a quick change of clothes, and heading back to the living room.

I changed my clothes, in case someone had seen me walking out of RPD, and the bandage on my face, wincing at the ugly bruises all over the side of my head. I slung the bag and had my hand on the knob, ready to leave it all behind, thoughts of Jill coming faster and faster, my ears started ringing from the sensory overload, I shook it off, I couldn't just leave like this.

I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper from the printer, pausing when the pen made contact. How did I tell her how much she meant to me? That I understood what she was feeling, that I loved her so much it threatened to send me back to the station and my almost inevitable death if it meant I could see her one last time.

I took a deep breath and started writing.

Jill.

By now, I'm sure you and half the RPD are out looking for me, Rebecca doesn't understand, Chris wants my head, Barry should be home with his family if he isn't, but I imagine he isn't too impressed with me either.

Jill, I didn't do this, I'm not what Wesker said I am. But I get it, I really do, and I don't blame you for believing it, I don't hate you for having your world shattered. Quite the opposite, I love you so much it's killing me. But I have to leave; Umbrella is never gonna let this go if I'd have gone into a holding cell, I never would have come out.

So I'm gonna run, find some help, some serious help. I know this probably means nothing, and that you believe that I'm the monster that Wesker made me out to be. But that's okay as long as you're safe, as long as I got you out of that fucking nightmare, you can hate me all you want. Just remember one thing for me, okay darlin'?

Even though I won't be right here with you.

I've got your back, all the way.

Always and forever.

-Mike

P.S- Tell them that I'm gonna miss them.

I wiped my tears, folded the note and set it where I knew she'd see it, and with one final look at the life I'd almost built, I walked out of our home for the last time.

A couple of hours later, I was well clear of the city and pulling into a rest area, digging out my burner phone. Some big part of me desperately wanted to go back and try to explain, but the part of me that had kept me alive for all those years was louder. If I'd allowed them to put me in that holding cell, I'd be dead inside of twenty-four hours; Umbrella owned that town and damned near everyone in it. I'd get back on level ground, and make contact, explain the whole thing from a better position.

Right.

I punched in the number I knew by heart; after two rings, the line clicked, and a smooth female voice answered.

"Standby…Line Secure, send traffic."

"Sierra Oscar Golf. Oxide is burnt, requesting secure contact with Butcher immediately."

"Standby...Go for Butcher."

"Connor? It's Mike, brother. I am in a bad fucking spot."

"Mike, Jesus man, what's going on?"

"Not on the phone, can we meet?"

"For you? I can make time. I'm out at Fort Carson as we speak."

"I'm on my way."

I rode for a day, not stopping unless I had to. It was a little after four in the morning when I rolled into a dive bar just outside of Carson; Connor was waiting in the back, a booth in a dark corner. I slid in across from him. Connor Morgan was a lean dude in his early thirties, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, where I'd gone right into intel, Connor had spent a few years as a SEAL before getting Title Fifty'd to CIA, he'd decided to hang out and still worked as a contractor.

"Goddamn Mike, you look like shit. The fuck happened to your face?"

"Con' I need help, brother," I couldn't look him in the eye; reminded me too much of another set of blue eyes. I filled him in on everything, every grimy detail, all the way to Wesker painting me as a traitor.

He leaned back in the booth when I finished my tale, "Holy fuck that's…Did you hit your head or something?"

"Connor, we've chewed enough of the same dirt, do I look crazy to you?"

He took in my disheveled self, "Honestly?"

I knew he was kidding, but I couldn't joke right now, "Jesus Connor, can you help me or not?"

"Brother, I'm with you all the way, always, I already called Frank. Extract is on their way as we speak, gonna get your face fixed up and figure out what to do next, don't worry, Langley has your back."

I was floored, "How? I assaulted two cops, I figured at most I'd get protective custody."

"Well, if half the shit you just told me is true, you did what you had to, I'm sold."

A wave of gratitude rushed through me, followed by something else. I stared at the table, Jill's smile, her scent, everything I loved about her, everything we shared, it was all gone. Chris and his steadfast friendship, Barry and his family, Rebecca and her quiet, fierce intelligence. I couldn't cry, not here, it'd just attract attention, the kind I didn't need.

"Mike? You okay?"

I looked up into Connor's eyes.

Got your back all the way, baby.

My voice cracked when I answered, "No, man, I'm fucking not."

Connor opened his mouth to answer, concern all over his face, when his phone chirped.

"Yeah? Alright, back door, ninety seconds." He killed the call, "Let's go."

I followed him out the back door, digging out and lighting a smoke as we stepped into the alley. A van roared up seconds later, the sliding door opening to reveal a ghost from my past.

Frank Miller smiled, "Hey, kid."

Connor and I climbed into the van, and we sped off into the night; Frank squeezed my shoulder, "Glad to have you back."

"So you go in to find the rest of your team, and found out that Umbrella is performing illegal experiments involving bio-weapons."

"Yes, involving a virus called T-Epsilon, an agent that turns it's victims into zombies and induces mutations in animals."

"And do you have any idea how batshit crazy that sounds?"

I was three floors underground at Langley, trying desperately to explain to two guys from the DOJ that I hadn't lost my mind. They'd stitched up my face and gotten me a suit for the occasion.

"I do sir, but-"

"I can attest to Mr. Kelly's sound mind," Frank cut across me, "He served with this agency for over a decade, directly under me. He was as solid a Case Officer as any I have trained or worked with. If he says something is amiss, I'm inclined to believe him, as I believe you should be."

The FBI rep looked over his notes, "We did get some information out of the Raccoon Field Office, a couple of STARS Officers gave statements this morning, but no evidence. They also claimed that Mr. Kelly was possibly an Umbrella spy, along with Captain Albert Wesker, recently deceased."

I felt my blood start to boil a little, "I worked as an external security chief in Salt Lake. I wasn't involved in any cover-up."

Frank interjected, "Can I understand from this that DOJ won't be initiating an investigation?"

The DOJ Lawyer scoffed, a greasy looking kid, probably someone's son, "Based on what? Hearsay? Because that's exactly what Umbrella's lawyers will cry if we even twitch in the direction of warrants, I'd need some evidence before I could even think about going after the largest Pharma company on the fucking planet. And all for what? Some ex-spook who had a mental breakdown and, in case you've forgotten, attacked two police officers? Are we done here?"

Frank nodded, a dangerous expression on his face at the blatant disrespect, "I think that would be best."

The two DOJ guys stood, cursory handshakes all around, and they walked out of the room.

Frank leaned back in his chair and sighed, running a hand through his gray hair, "Listen, kid, we've gotta have a real conversation here."

"Shoot, Frank."

"Langley has some suspicions regarding Umbrella, but we had no idea it was anything like this, that DOJ prick was right on, THEY don't have any evidence. But Umbrella is a foreign-based company, putting them squarely in our wheelhouse. I want you on it, we'll have to get you poly'd again, but there it is, come back and help us."

"So, you believe me then?"

"Mike, how far back do we go?"

"Eleven years Frank, right back to the Farm."

"There's your answer then," He smiled, "What you're saying sounds nuts, but you aren't, and we'll need someone who knows what's coming."

I got a little misty, Frank was a great man, having his confidence made all the difference in the world, "I'm in, old man, all the way for however long it takes. There's one thing I need your help with. My team in Raccoon really believes the shit that Wesker planted about me, we left it all on the floor out there, and Wesker being a traitor, luring us in like that? It shook them up, so when he pointed the finger at me, it was easy for them to believe him; their whole foundation dropped away in a night."

He nodded, "You want help disabusing them of that notion?"

"Absolutely."

"Have anything to do with Jill Valentine?"

Pain, hot and sharp, lanced through me. Images of every lazy afternoon, every movie night, every time we'd made love, all flashed through my mind in an instant, "Yes, it does, but for the rest too. We bled together, Frank, I can't have this continue."

"Well, I can't get you back to Raccoon right away without raising some serious eyebrows, not to mention that they may not listen to you, then I've gotta keep you clear of RPD, STARS, and Umbrella at the same time. We'll set you up here in the city, get you back in the game, when the heat's off, I'll do whatever I can."

It was better than nothing, better than where I started, and though my heart was broken, I'd have to take it, "Thanks, Frank."

"No problem, kid."

Days turned into weeks; I took my re-up polygraph, passed it, and was officially back in the intelligence game. Professionally I was clicking along, looking through source reports, and building my cover to head to Europe and start working people to get inside Umbrella. Personally? I barely left my apartment, barely ate; all my thoughts were consumed by pretty blue eyes and a million-watt smile. Frank had people watching my parent's house if Umbrella tried anything; I pitied the dude who rolled up looking for trouble; Mom didn't know any more than I let on, only the I was back at work in Virginia, never mind why. Somehow I'd managed to keep her in the dark, telling myself that it was for the best.

Frank gave me a compartmentalized working group, spook-speak for a group that worked in the dark, cut off from the rest of the Agency to keep the operation under wraps. Analysts, Contractors, and Case Officers all with one goal in mind: the end of Umbrella. I threw myself into the job, trying my best to keep my mind off of Jill, but that was like asking water not to be wet; I looked for her when I woke up, only to remember moments later that I'd never hold her again, hell she'd probably shoot me on sight. So I drank and worked, and the pieces started coming together.

When you go after an organization, the ultimate goal is to dismantle it utterly, from the top down, depriving it of leadership and leaving it in disarray, then rolling up the smaller elements before they scatter.

Umbrella thought they were bad news; their collective ego made them believe they were untouchable. I had men and women on my side that were so far beyond what Umbrella brought to the table, people who had spent over a decade fighting an enemy that didn't care if they lived or died, and my guys and girls made those wannabe holy warriors afraid of the dark.

They thought they were bad? They had no idea just how scary the good guys could be.

But they were gonna learn.

All of my machinations led me to a grimy basement in Geneva, one chilly September night. I pulled on a cigarette while a contractor mercilessly beat on a man, tied to a chair with a bag over his head. A single light bulb illuminated the scene.

"Relax, D.," I said softly.

The burly ex-Special Forces soldier backed off, and I stepped up to the plate, rolling my shoulders as I approached the whimpering figure, whipping off the hood.

"Dr. Henri Devereaux, I presume?" He assailed me with blubbering rapid-fire French until I punched him in the side, hard enough that I felt a rib crack.

"Shut your mouth Doc, and just listen, if you don't tell me what I want to know, I swear on your children that you will die here in this basement, but not before I take more from you than you're willing to give. Do you understand?"

His eyes widened, horror overtaking his features, and he nodded.

"Tell me about White Umbrella, keep in mind that I know more than you think, if you lie to me, well. You've heard the terms."

The Doc was very forthcoming. Right up until D cut his throat. That was the game we were playing now, he'd seen my face, and I'd be damned if he was going to run back to his masters and describe me down to my toes.

My sat-phone rang as D loaded Devereaux's body into the furnace. "Go for Oxide."

"Sparrow, I say again, Sparrow."

I hung up, "Hey D? I need a burner."

"Comin at ya'," He tossed me the cheap cell phone and turned up the heat.

I dialed Frank's throwaway number, he picked up after a couple of rings, "Hey, kid."

"Hey, Frank, what's up?"

"Listen, first things first, I need you to stay calm, okay?"

My heart stopped, "Frank, what happened?"

He sighed, "Raccoon is going sideways, FBI scooped Rebecca Chambers five hours ago, she's safe in protective custody, I've got a team headed that way to lock her down, trustworthy guys. But reports are coming in, the virus reached the city and people are dying. Redfield is gone, headed to Europe, Burton went with him after Umbrella attacked his place, but Valentine is still there by all accounts."

I couldn't breathe for a beat, the virus was turning Raccoon into the mansion on a massive scale, and Jill was in the middle of it, being hunted by Umbrella.

Alone.

"Frank, I scooped an HVT, he gave up some serious information before he had a bit of an accident, I'm gonna have D push it to you. But I'm on a plane back to the states, time now. I'm going after her."

"I figured, once you're on the ground here, I'll give you all the help I can, but there are rumblings about blockading the city. We've gotta move now. Air Branch is pushing you transport, an airfield two miles outside the city. I'll see you when you land."

"Got it." I killed the call, "D, I'm out, you good here?"

He nodded, "I got this man, always a pleasure."

I shook his hand," Pleasure's mine D, we're not done by a long shot, I'll call you, give my best to Dina and the kids."

"Will do, bro, take care."

"You too."

I walked into the night, climbing into my rental, one thought burning through my mind as I pulled onto the main road, flooring it and racing for the airfield.

I'm coming Jill, stay alive, please god, stay alive.

The flight back to the states was a long one; I forced myself to sleep and dreamt of giant snakes, soulless zombies, and Jill. Our wheels finally made contact at a private airstrip just outside of Raccoon, jerking me awake. I shot a nod to the pilot, the guy looked like he'd been running missions since 'Nam, and walked down the steps to the tarmac where a jet-black government-issued sedan waited, Frank, leaning on the hood. Off in the distance, fires burned in Raccoon, the smoke reaching into the evening sky. My home away from home was slowly tearing itself apart.

"Talk to me, Frank."

He sighed, looking every bit of his fifty-six years in that moment, "Get in. We can hash it out while we roll." He slipped behind the wheel, and I jogged around and hopped aboard; we threw a little gravel as we pulled out, heading towards the city, Frank filling me in as he drove.

"POTUS wants this contained, the Director briefed him on our operations to feel out Umbrella and showed him what your group has collected so far, the President agrees, had to, once he saw what we brought to the table. JSOC is on stand by, Posse Comitatus has been suspended. We've been given the nod to fly Delta and Pararescue teams into the city to evac the civilians we can, they've been fully briefed on the virus, and how it operates, they've been equipped accordingly. Umbrella showed up, said they wanted to help, and dropped a couple platoons worth of their Biohazard Countermeasure guys in about twelve hours ago, before we could get here."

Umbrella was in the city, and those UBCS guys were no joke…If you were fighting girl scouts, "Frank, they sent those guys in there to die, I'd bet on it, they have no idea what they're in for."

"Which is why POTUS gave the go-ahead to send you in, not that it would've stopped you if he'd said no, right?" I shook my head, fuck no, it wouldn't, "Now you're gonna have the support and whatever else you need to get it done. The mission is, officially, a priority extract on one Dr. Nathaniel Bard, Umbrella researcher; the word is that this guy developed a vaccine for T-Epsilon. Last known is Raccoon General. Secondary objective is the extraction of Jill Valentine, who holds critical intel, Or so I told Washington."

"Thank you, Frank."

"No worries, kid, I know she means a lot to you. We've got a staging area set up closer to the city, the rest of your team is waiting there."

Team?

"Who'd you get, Frank?"

"Connor wanted back in, said he wanted to run with you now that you're in the game again, along with someone else I think you're familiar with." We pulled into the staging area, a field of tents a few miles away from the outskirts. National Guard troops, JSOC guys, and a few civvies milled around, helos off-loading more as we parked. I stepped out of the car and followed Frank to CIA's little corner of the world, a tent removed from the others, he slipped inside, holding the flap open for me.

I ducked under it; the interior was buzzing with activity.

Drone operators were overflying the city, getting what intel they could, radio chatter back and forth from the UBCS teams were being monitored by NSA SIGINT guys, who were steadily decrypting and tracing the transmissions back to their sources, and at the far wall, two figures stood, pouring over a map of the city, one I recognized as Connor, the other…

"Becca?"

Her whole body jerked like she'd been shocked; in a flash, she turned and moved at the sound of my voice, rushing across the tent, tears already running down her face. I held my arms out, and she leapt into them, sobbing into my shoulder.

I gently rubbed her back, adding my own tears to the fray as I tried to comfort the tiny medic, "Shh, shh, it's okay, honey, it's okay."

"I-I'm sorry, I can't believe I ever t-thought…" She hugged me tighter, trailing off into soft sniffles.

Everyone in the tent was watching us now, watching our reunion with questioning eyes.

Relief spread through me as I hugged the kid who'd had to grow up way too fast, "Not your fault 'Bec's, he played us all."

She nodded, releasing her iron grip on me, stepping back and taking a shuddering breath, "None of us knew what to believe, not after everything… Barry tried to keep us level, saying we knew you, Chris always countered with how we thought we knew Wesker too, Jill…Jill cried a lot, after you left, carried around the letter you wrote us, but in the end, I think she believed it too."

The thought of Jill crying over me for a moment, scared, confused, not understanding why, broke my heart even more, "Well, I didn't exactly stick around to explain."

She shook her head, "We should've given you the benefit of the doubt. Especially after Umbrella shot up Barry's house, you were right to leave. It was so much more than we could handle on our own."

I grabbed her shoulders, "Kid, how could you have known? Wesker shook everything we knew to the core, if he was a traitor, who's to say I wasn't? I'd have done the same thing. It's not your fault or theirs, I'm back now, and we're gonna clean this up."

She nodded, wiping her tears, "Okay, let's do it."

I gave her a smile, squeezing her shoulders, "Hell yeah, kid." I reached around her and shook Connor's hand, "Hey, bro, glad you made it."

He smiled, "Like I'd miss this, call the shot Mike."

I stepped to the board, Frank at my side, and we briefed them in.

We'd decided to wait until after dark to insert; Frank had supplied an MH-6 from JSOC, the little helo crewed by 160th pilots, some of the best in the world. We geared up in silence, checking and re-checking, ammo was a priority. Rebecca carried medical supplies and chemical equipment to collect samples of Bard's vaccine; we were as ready as we could be as we walked across the staging area to our waiting bird.

I helped Rebecca clip herself to the skids, slotting myself in next to her; she touched my leg and smiled; I returned her smile, she looked so young in her too-big helmet and body armor, like a kid dressing up in their dad's gear, but she wasn't just a kid anymore. She was ready.

I looked back, getting the thumbs up from Connor, I flashed my own to the pilot, and we vaulted off the ground, hugging the earth as we flew into the stricken city.