Title: Final Illuminations

Author: Malenkaya

Rating: R for violence and swearing

Summary: RE movie fanfiction. In this sequel to "Fading Away" and "Into the Light", Alice, Michael, Rain and J.D continue in their efforts to defeat Umbrella, finding along the way new allies, new enemies—and new hope for Matthew Addison.

Chapter Summary: In which Alexei has a bad day, the siege begins, and Alice gets emotional.

Author's Notes:

Happy New Years everyone! Thanks very much to all my reviewers!

My resolution is less crap, which means less author's note, because really, this is getting ridiculous. So all that I will have anymore is thank you notes and important info. Everyone knows I love feedback, so that note's gone; I think disclaimers are pointless as, at this point, I've created my own little RE universe completely separate from the existing one anyway, and that's that. I've added a short, vague little chapter summary, and that's about it.

Here's chapter eight! Thanks for your patience. The beginning has changed only slightly, but I have finished it. Because of hectic circumstances, Chapter nine will be updated Friday, January 13th, or, possibly, Monday, January 16th. I really am sorry about my reliability issues lately.

Chapter Eight: Tangled Connections

Morning dawned, crystal clear and bright and early, and Alexei was up with it, par usual.

The room was still dark, the sun barely inching it's way over the dark horizon. Red light flowed gently in through the window, sweeping through the thin glass and onto the wall beside him, giving the appearance that everything within had been drenched in blood.

In one hand Alexei held a bag—a duffel bag, which wasn't exactly how he planned on traveling, but at the moment, was all he had—and with the other he was stuffing clothing in it as fast as was humanly possible.

He hadn't planned on leaving. He honestly hadn't.

But there was nothing here for him. These people, this group, was doomed to fail. Selfish motivations were only fucking them over, making it impossible to make intelligent decisions.

Not that Alexei's own decisions had ever been intelligent. On the contrary, Alexei's decisions were generally based upon three factors: greed, manipulation, or laziness.

But they had always been made to satisfy no one other than himself, and, in that way, he'd ensured there would be no other factors that would seep through and eventually fuck him over.

And until this team had shown up—Umbrella's hated renegade S.W.A.T. team—that had been his way of life.

But things had changed. All that they cared about was each other, putting one another's safety and comfort and every basic need above their own until they were totally blind to any thoughts of consequence.

It shouldn't have been dangerous to care so much.

But if there was anything Alexei had learnt in his twenty six years, it was that love was nothing but a damn inconvenience.

Which was why he had no idea why the hell he couldn't get Rain Ocampo out of his head.

It wasn't what he'd said to her. He knew he'd been arrogant, he'd knew he'd been an asshole; but then, those two things were simply a part of him, something he was incapable of and unwilling to change.

He'd used those same lines hundreds of times, countless one-night-stand after countless whore that he met at insufferably stuffy Umbrella business meetings, wined and dined and screwed and ran.

The reactions were always the same. Tears; misery, and anger. Sometimes they begged, pleaded pathetically with him; sometimes they slapped him, screamed at him 'till they were red in the face and he would laugh until they fled the room.

Nobody had ever reacted with the same cold fury Rain had, and he had never felt the need to reach out to someone as badly as he'd wanted to reach out to her even as he'd stood there, saying those things to her.

He paused, momentarily, from stuffing a wealth of false I.D's and traveler's cheques into the thin lining of the bag as he heard one of the doors opening.

Rain and J.D's, no doubt; Alice tended to stay in on these mornings, going over details until she felt prepared to give a confident assurance to the rest of them, and Michael had gone out early this morning to do God knew what.

It wasn't very safe; but then, Alexei didn't particularly care about keeping Michael safe. Never had, and wasn't going to, particularly after last night.

The circumstances left only two options, neither of which Alexei particularly wanted to deal with—

And then a slight creaking ran through the room, and Rain stepped into the kitchen, wiping sleep out of her eyes as she stumbled across the floor to the sink.

She dropped the glass in her hands three times before she finally managed to fill it, and, from his vantage point just in front of the couch, Alexei was both entirely unsurprised and entirely amused to realize Rain Ocampo was definitely not a morning person.

Then Rain turned to look out the window, caught eyes with him, and almost dropped the glass again.

He just stared at her, not trusting himself to say anything.

She stared back at him, brown eyes now fully awake and fully unreadable.

Then she turned to stalk back out of the room.

"Rain," he said quietly, the word slipping out before he could stop it.

To his surprise, she did stop; and looked back at him, holding the glass in one hand, looking wary and haughty, and impossibly, strangely vulnerable.

He didn't say anything more, and her eyes slid down to the black bag in his hands. "You're leaving?"

Guilt crashed over him in waves, but his voice was self-assured as he responded. "Yes, I am."

She stared darkly at him over her cup, curling her lip slightly as she said, "Good."

She turned again, and again, apparently unable to keep his mouth shut, he called out, "Rain."

Her gaze was distinctly annoyed as she turned back again. "What, Alexei?"

He stared at her again, unsure of what to say, and she gave an exasperated sigh and turned back—

"I'm sorry."

The words were out before he could stop them, and he was shocked to realize that they were true—not that he was sorry about what he'd said, but that he'd hurt her by saying it, that he'd hurt her at all.

If part of him had expected forgiveness, that part of him had been wrong, because despite an initial look of surprise, she only said, "Good for you", and turned to leave again.

"Rain, please," he ground out, hating the pleading tone in his voice, but hating the idea of tolerating her leaving even more.

She turned again, carefully, lowering her glass slightly—

Then, slamming it down on the countertop, burst out, "What, do you think this changes something, Alexei? Do you think that if you take off and leave everyone here to fight your battles, it makes any fucking difference just because you apologized first?"

"I don't want to leave," he said tightly, letting his shirt fall out of rapidly clenching hands as he advanced towards the kitchen, stopping at just the border, unwilling to get too close, and she cut him off again.

"You don't tell me anything, not a single goddamn thing, and you think I can just trust you enough to forgive you?"

"I tell you things," he protested, slightly hurt. "Sometimes."

She looked torn between laughter and anger, and finally said. "I don't owe you anything, Alexei."

"I don't want to leave," he repeated emphatically, trying to drive the point into her thick skull. "Rain—"

"Then tell me something," she said abruptly, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

He stopped.

"What?" he said uncertainly. "Like what?"

"Tell me who you are," she explained. "Your family. Umbrella. Why you're here, and why the hell you won't just leave."

"I can't do that," he said sharply, the whining edge in his heart threatening to overwhelm him.

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Because I don't fucking want to!" he shouted, losing all grip on his temper as he added, "Why don't you tell me about your childhood, Rain? All fucking rainbows and sunshine, or do you have skeletons in your closet too?"

He could hear movement in the other rooms now, could see the light flash on underneath Rain and J.D's door.

Rain obviously noticed it too, because she turned to him and said, her voice tightly controlled, "It doesn't have to be about your stupid childhood. I just want to know something, Alexei, don't you get that?"

"Look," he said firmly, distinctly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken, "I don't want to leave. But unless you're here, unless you're willing to even think about forgiving me, there's nothing here for me anyway."

She stared at him, her eyes dark.

"Then leave."

With that cold comment she turned and left the room, leaving Alexei standing there in the doorway, hands clenched into fists, feeling the shaky adrenaline release of an unfinished battle coursing through his veins.

Red light was flowing in freely through the windows now, bathing the walls in it's warm and somehow oppressive shades, and for a moment Alexei just stood there, letting the color wash into him and drown him.

Finally, he turned; and with both hands, grabbed his bag with both hands and shoved it forcefully underneath the couch.

He wasn't leaving. Not yet.

xxxxx

Everyone kept asking her if she was okay.

Everyone wanted to know that she was still human; that she had stopped trembling, that her forehead had stopped bleeding, that she was still alive and breathing. That she was still sane, and wasn't about to fall into depression or commit suicide.

What they didn't seem to understand was that nothing was okay. That the world had been turned upside down, twisted reason into chaos, and nothing would ever be the same again.

Matt wasn't okay. He had been shaky, and had teetered on the edge all night, and now especially she could see that. Could glimpse, with crystal clear clarity, all of the pain and suffering that had filled him that night.

She also remembered that, for the first time in what had to be months, he hadn't been afraid. He had clung to her, he had suffered, but his hands had been strong, gentle; and even shivering, pathetic and small, he had gained back some degree of presence; that strength, that all-encompassing love that made Matt who he was.

And he had remembered her.

She could still remember the sound of her name on his lips, so like she had heard it before so many times, and yet so different; the loving familiarity of the word replaced with a gnawing sense of desperation, as if somehow Matt had known it had been locked away from him, and now was the only chance he'd have to unlock the door before the key was thrown away forever.

Good or bad memories, she was away from that bedroom now, and she was glad for it; not because the memories would destroy her, but because they would pull her back in. Because they would lock her own doors, keep her trapped inside a world inverted where Umbrella didn't exist, her team didn't exist, and it was just her and Matt again.

The way it should have been.

Sitting on her bed, surrounded by various papers and thoughts and plans, amid the chaos was a sort of calm certainty.

She would find the anti-virus. Michael had told her it existed, had given her it's exact location; and together, they were both supposed to take it now, and return to destroy the corporation tomorrow.

Stopped briefly with Matt's arrival, her sickness had flared up full force as soon as he'd disappeared; and while her team had chalked it up to stress, she knew that given time, they would start asking questions—they always did.

Unbeknownst to Michael, unbeknownst to any of her team, Alice had no intentions of waiting for anybody.

This was her one single chance, to wipe out everything and gain everything back at singularly the same time, and she was unwilling to leave any options up in the air.

But she hadn't eaten since that night, and was empty now; the dizziness and unchecked nausea washed over her in waves, but at least she wasn't completely incapable of fighting today.

She would need to be at her full strength for what needed to be done today. To go through what she had to do.

It wasn't a brilliant plan, and it was both nerve-wracking and oddly exhilarating to be doing this alone this time, with no outside help and no sturdy plan within to work.

It was chaos.

But Alice loved Matt—it went without saying, just as she loved every member of her team and would do anything in her power to save them.

And in that chaos, that strong, unshattering belief weaved it's way through all it encountered, leaving only a steady, strong path to follow.

It was like it had been, and probably always would be—dark, and black, and chaotic and dangerous.

And yet, in the darkness, she could still see light.

xxxxx

J.D Salinas had endured a lot of awkward silences in his twenty five years.

Strangely enough, most of them had been sat through with Rain Ocampo at his side: boring team meetings, waiting silently for the boss to give them shit after probably every third mission following a "necessary improvisation" in mission tactics.

And then of course there'd been the one night stands, who'd marched up to him and demanded to know if he was "seeing" Rain Ocampo now.

This time was remarkably the same in that Rain was sitting directly on his left, stiff and moody looking.

The only difference was that on his left sat Alexei, who looked similarly cold and moody.

And utter silence stretched over the scene.

"Well then," he finally said, smiling broadly. "How are you two children today?"

Alexei looked vaguely disgusted, not even bothering to acknowledge the comment, while Rain turned and scowled at him.

He grinned, knowing that he was pissing her off, and not really caring.

This was pre-battle, all of this. Generally, in his own pre-battle, he was bantering with Rain, and, in later circumstances, scowling across at Alexei.

But things had changed; although he by no means liked Alexei, J.D had found trusting him less impossible once he'd realized at least one common trait the two of them shared: that they both loved a woman who couldn't even bring herself to fully trust them in return.

It was a different kind of love, of course. And while Rain had never fully trusted Alexei, she had, at some point, trusted J.D.

Which made it even more difficult, because he could understand why she couldn't trust him anymore—he'd taken a huge chance leaving with Olivia, and some part of him had known what Rain's consequences would be to that.

He'd thought he could deal with that.

But then he'd gotten desperate—reckless, Alice had called it, and stupid, Rain's own word for it—and so instead of making Rain trust him, he'd only pushed her further away.

Whereas Alexei knew the secret to making Rain trust him, and wouldn't even try.

The walls were paper thin in this place, and one of these days, all three of them were going to learn not to shout during their arguments.

There was a creak; and Alice entered the room, looking tired but calm; steady, and assured. She took in the scene immediately—the moody expressions on Rain and Alexei's faces, the desperate grin on J.D's as he grasped and clung onto some source, any source of life—blinked, and seemed to decide not to say anything.

"We need to talk about today," she said softly, holding up the papers in her hand to demonstrate. "And I—"

She paused, frowned. "Where's Michael?"

The room went silent, and J.D was surprised—and slightly guilty—to realize he had no fucking clue.

"Walking," Alexei finally said, looking like he didn't want to be the one having to say it.

Which was actually fairly reasonable, because immediately everyone turned to stare at him.

"What?" Rain bit out. "Why?"

Alexei shrugged at her and she turned away, the most civil exchange the two had shared in hours.

Alice folded her arms over her chest, looking exhausted, and asked sharply, "Where?"

Another shrug from Alexei, and Alice glanced at her watch.

"It's 6:17," she said distractedly, glancing up to gaze out the window. "He should be here by now."

Alexei stretched languidly, and commented, "Perhaps we should organize a search party."

Rain and J.D both scowled at him, but Alice didn't even seem to notice as she crossed the room, pulling the curtains back slightly to peer through the darkened morning—

And with the slam of a door and quiet footsteps, Michael came wandering into the room, looking sick and exhausted.

Alice dropped the curtains instantly, letting them snap back into place as she turned to look at him.

For his part, he just stared back, and as J.D stared at him, he was surprised to realize how tired Michael looked.

It had been months since Michael had joined their team, and already, his innocence was gone. Already, J.D thought of him as one of them—none of them were innocent anymore.

Alice seemed to be thinking the same thing—the annoyance on her face was quickly tainted with that same, slightly pained look of worry she got whenever Matt had seemed to be getting worse, or Kaplan's infection had deepened, or Rain or himself had taken off and disappeared for hours.

A slight moment passed; and then Alice looked away, obviously deciding not to say anything.

Clearing his throat slightly, Michael slid past her to take a seat on the armchair across from the couch the other three were seated on; Alice took a quick look, than began.

"I need you in my room," she said simply. "There's something we missed."

xxxxx

Todd Hamilton liked working for Umbrella.

It wasn't a very popular opinion. Not very many people enjoyed working, and even fewer enjoyed working for Umbrella.

If Todd had worked with the experimentation units—or, considering yesterday's rebel infiltration, the security forces—things would have been different.

But here, monitoring the security cameras, life was easy. Occasionally there was a break in—but even then, all he needed to do was press a button, call the guys from security down, and his work was done.

He received and transferred guests sometimes too, but never important ones; so while most other desk officers sat around cinched up in ties and button downs, Todd was dressed in jeans and yesterday's Simpsons sweater, busy playing pinball on his computer screen.

He hadn't gone home last night. If there was another good thing about work, it gave him someplace other than home, which lately had become more of a prison than his own damn home. With a baby screaming and a special needs kid around all the time—it got stressful, and lately, even sweet Tricia had turned into a nagging bitch every time he walked through that front door.

The security monitors beeped, and he paused the game, wheeling over to check out the video monitor.

A tall, finely dressed blond man stood there, looking haughty and impatient, and Todd scowled. He looked important enough to be one of Crawford's guests—sometimes there were screw ups in the system, and, not for the first time, Todd wished Crawford would start ringing in his own damn guests himself.

"Umbrella security," he commented flatly. "State your name and purpose."

"Archangelo," came the bored reply, and Todd almost fell off his chair. "William Archangelo."

Wasn't there supposed to be some sort of procedure for this? An alert?

"Does Crawford know you're here?" he blurted stupidly, all suave words and follow-up commentary forgotten.

Archangelo scowled. "Is this the godforsaken staff Vinny is hiring these days?" he demanded, to no one in particular. "Un-fucking-believable. Open the goddamn door or I'll—"

Todd opened the door.

Seconds later he was hurrying down the hall, battling a hopeless battle to make himself at least somewhat presentable, tugging on his beaten sweater with one hand and trying anxiously to flatten his messy hair with the other.

By the time he reached the doorway, Archangelo was striding in, looking both expectant and bored.

He had entered through the back doors, where the lab shipments were generally dropped off and the fatalities—"accidents", the higher ranking members usually called them—were taken out.

Todd didn't get a chance to wonder why. Archangelo shrugged out of his black coat, leaving him dressed in matching pants and a light blue shirt, all trimmed in gold, and threw it at him. He caught it automatically, and Archangelo turned and strode down the hallway, leaving Todd to follow at his heels, distinctly annoyed despite himself—what was he, the damn valet?

"I expect you'd like to speak to Mr. Crawford, sir?" he enquired, keeping the tone polite.

Archangelo halted, and Todd followed in unison as the man turned to look at him, his eyes dark behind reflective sunglasses.

"No," he said shortly, glancing at the concrete surrounding them—upstairs they got marble and glass, but all Todd's good old work place had was sidewalk plaster—with some interest. "No, the security control room, Weatherby."

He spoke with a slight Russian accent, and Todd nodded, fighting a scowl at the address. "Right this way, sir."

He set off down the hallway at a brisk pace, Archangelo following closely behind him.

By the time they reached the room, Todd, despite himself, had grown increasingly more nervous. He wasn't easily frightened, he'd faced up to worse working here—but the whole way here Archangelo had been completely, unnervingly silent.

It was with great relief, then, that he opened the door and ushered Archangelo inside, asking nervously, "What do you need, sir?"

"I have been told," Archangelo said simply, "That you have the ability to bypass all outside security systems—including video monitors—and keep them immobile for a period of twenty minutes. Is that true?"

Todd nodded, feeling a flush of pride despite himself that someone had been talking about him to William Archangelo. "Of course, sir."

Archangelo grinned at him, a smile that was blinding white and equal parts pleasure and malice. "Then do it."

He did.

The telecommunications system went haywire as what felt like every single goddamn employee in Umbrella called to enquire what in the hell he was doing. Todd didn't have an answer, and as he reached for the phone, he sure as hell hoped Archangelo had an explanation ready.

"Don't," Archangelo cut in placidly. "Answer that."

What the fuck was he playing at? Todd wondered, staring at him. Despite mild amusement at the situation, he looked completely serious and had taken off his sunglasses, somehow intensifying the words with his stare.

"I have to, sir," he argued, and turned back to the headset with some relief. "Todd Hamilton reporting—"

"What the hell are you doing down there, Hamilton?"

His supervisor's voice, and the fear that ran through him at the tone was nothing compared to the cold and utter panic he felt when he felt the butt of a gun pressed against his neck.

"I told you," the man's voice came again, both fully amused and now fully Russian, "Not to answer that."

It's said that in every man's life, he reaches an epiphany; and at that moment, Todd Hamilton reached his.

He hadn't known much about the powerful William Archangelo, but he knew enough to realize these three thins:

Firstly, that Archangelo always, consistently entered through the top entrance reserved especially for him.

Secondly, Archangelo wasn't Russian, nor did he speak it, and third:

William Archangelo had been missing—presumed dead—for the last five months.

He lunged for the microphone. "Sawyer!" he shouted. His supervisor's name. "Sawyer, Umbrella—"

The butt of the gun slamming into his head silenced him, and he crumpled to the floor, Sawyer's unanswered barrage of questions cutting away into silence as "Archangelo" ended the transmission.

Todd could hear him swearing in Russian as he thought belatedly of his wife and kids, of how little he'd seen them in the last three months, before he ended with one English word Todd himself was feeling particularly fond of at the moment.

"Fuck."

A deafening explosion—

And the world went black.

xxxxx

"We're in."

Alexei's voice followed the gunshot, and Alice turned to her group, assembled around her. At J.D, leaning casually against the wall of the same Umbrella van they'd hijacked last time, his expression relaxed, but eyes bright, alert, watchful—relaxed, smirking, but prepared and ready, as he always had been.

At Rain, who sat at J.D's feet, her face upturned, expectant—her expression tired, fists clenched. Exhausted.

But that same smirk still played at the corner of her mouth; the same confidence and ready mischievousness was alight in her steady brown eyes as she gazed back at her, a mask of determination, of that same determination that had got them this far.

At Michael, who sat across from here, knight to where Matt had once been king. His bright green eyes were tired, and his ready, cautious smile had grown brittle—he had grown up, grown to be as jaded as the rest of them had already become so long ago—and she felt a pang of guilt for having caused that change in him

But behind the tired glance, intelligence still sparkled; his hands were restless on the video console in front of them, ready and willing to continue. Strong beyond appearance.

They all looked ready, prepared, both loyally adult and heart achingly young, and Alice allowed herself to remember Kaplan—his unending bravery, the heartbreaking concern and worry for his wife and kids that had lasted until the very end—and Matt, always Matt, before turning and addressing the group.

"I would give my life," she stated unerringly. "To keep you all safe."

They looked taken aback, obviously not expecting an emotional speech, and she couldn't blame them. She hadn't been, either.

"It's been years," she said quietly, "Since I've met you, since I've come to fight with you. I've come to know your strengths, weaknesses, all of you—your bravery, unwavering loyalty, intelligence, and spirit. I've rescued, and been rescued, by each of you; and there's no one else I would have wanted on my side but all of you."

She paused, then added even more softly, "There's no one else I want here today but you. All of you."

She took a moment to glance around at her group, gauging their reactions. Both Rain and J.D looked overwhelmed, but open—connected, as they always had been without realizing it.

Michael was pale, and set, looking caring and warm but somehow miserable, as if his heart was breaking in two, and Alice felt a pang of loss go through her at his expression.

She slid back on track. "Normally," she explained, "I would be telling you the plan again, and we would go over it until you all had it memorized."

Rain grinned at that, and Alice sent her back a grin that was half-conciliatory, half-warning as she continued, "But not today."

"I trust you," she elaborated, looking closely at all of them, "To make the right decisions, and to correct the wrong ones. So I'm leaving Michael in charge."

Unlike Rain and J.D, his face bore no surprise; only gratitude and slight suspicion, and she realized he already knew what she intended to do.

"All this time…" she said haltingly. "I couldn't have asked for a better team. I want you to know that."

There was silence; and then Rain commented, grinning slightly, "Wow, Alice, I didn't know you cared."

Alice smiled at her. "Just don't die, Rain," she said dryly, and they all laughed; and in the laughter she felt, somehow, like she was coming back to earth; like this had all come full circle, like they'd reached both the end and, subsequently, the beginning again.

For the first time in months, she felt whole again.

Ready.

"So that's it?" J.D asked, his gaze both warm and expectant.

Set.

"This is it," Alice corrected him, and, despite a previously steely resolve, her stomach fluttered nervously as she finished, "This is the end."

Go.