The smoke from the burnt out train poured from the tunnel's opening, dissipating into the open sky. The three survivors limped along the tracks away from it all, the morning sun warm and light on their faces. Under any normal circumstances, it would be considered a beautiful morning, but the trio was simply happy to be alive after the night they had endured. The crunch of the gravel beneath footsteps was the only sound until someone finally spoke.

"I'm hungry," whined the little girl. Whether it was fatigue or a faint hope that she would forget, neither of the adults responded. "Claire, I'm hungry," she repeated, tugging on the young woman's hand and put out at having to repeat her complaint.

"I know honey," said Claire, exhausted. "We're almost there. Just hold on, okay Sherry?"

"Almost where? Where are we even going?"

Claire looked to the man walking on the other side of Sherry, who shrugged before finally answering.

"The main highway should be further ahead," Leon answered. "We'll be able to find help there." He looked down at the young girl, who seemed content with his answer, but she still wore a pained face from hunger. Sighing, he reached into his pocket. "Hey," he said, handing her a small package. "I got gum."

The girl took it gratefully, munching happily on his chewing gum. It seemed to give her a boost, walking faster instead of slowing them down like she had been. She was quiet and content, but Leon secretly hoped the gum would tire out her mouth completely. It'd been a long while since he had to deal with a young girl accustomed to always getting her way, and he dearly hoped that there wouldn't be a next time.

Claire smiled brightly at his kind gesture, but Leon didn't seem to notice. He seemed satisfied with his own thoughts, thoughts she would never be bold enough to ask about. Sure she had faced legions of undead, impossible odds and come out alive, but when it came to men, she was all thumbs. Well, certain type of men, that is. The bad boys had always flocked to her (much to her brother's dismay), but her confidence and independence often put off the straight edge good guys. She hoped that wouldn't be the case with Leon.

Still, she couldn't remember the last time a guy about her age didn't pay much attention to her, and with the life or death situations they faced, it was almost expected that they form some kind of emotional bond. Unless he was…no, she thought, that couldn't be. But he did have a really fashionable haircut, after all…

She was lost in the question so many other women would ask themselves when the group of masked men emerged from the bushes before them, assault rifles trained on the three survivors.

"Whoa, hold up, we're humans!" yelled Leon, stepping in front of the girls, his empty hands raised. Claire grabbed Sherry, pulling her into her arms and away from the menacing gunmen.

"And most likely infected," replied one of the masked men, stepping forward, his gun still raised.

"Shit, Mason, one of them's a fucking kid," said one of the men, his rifle wavering ever so slightly. "Maybe we shouldn't—"

"Our orders are to eliminate any living thing that makes it to the city limits," the leader interrupted, releasing his gun's safety. "Child or not."

"Put us into quarantine then," said Claire, stepping out from Leon's shadow. "We don't want anymore trouble."

"Well, lookee here," sneered one of the men. "She's volunteering to be put into lockup. I see this shit in those late night cable movies, but never thought it'd happen in real life. Do we draw straws for who does the strip search or what?" The other men laughed, the hollow echo from their gas masks sinister and soulless.

"This isn't Skinemax, Cooper," said the leader, stern. He looked at his men, their rifles hesitant and hanging loosely in their hands. "Fine, I'll do it myself," he added, taking careful aim.

Leon turned to look at Claire, and she thought she saw something there; a sad longing, perhaps of a love that could've been, or maybe he just didn't want the last thing he ever saw to be a firing squad. To further befuddle her, he blinked once, then closed his eyes tightly. Baffled, she did the same, feeling his strong arms suddenly grasp her tightly.

The bright flash of the explosion flared across the entire countryside, a soundless eruption of blinding light and heat coming in a single flooding shock wave that ripped the leaves from the trees. Then came the rumble of the missile's impact, shaking the ground beneath them and heralding the official end of Raccoon City. The gunmen recoiled, confused and stunned senseless by the sudden explosion. Claire felt Leon's arms slip from around her, and realized he had seen the missiles overhead and had meant only to brace her against the impact.

The next sounds she heard came from the barrel of Leon's custom handgun, the loud punch of his gun firing rapidly. Claire opened her eyes and shook the cotton from her head, grabbing her crossbow and firing as fast as she could into the scattering group. Her arrows flew wildly, piercing arms, legs, and shoulders as the masked men screamed in agony. Reloading, she marveled at Leon's shots each finding their mark, obliterating one man's entire forearm, then another's kneecap, and finally the leader's masked face exploded in a cloud of blood.

In the stillness that came after the effects of the explosion had passed, she still couldn't believe what she saw. The two of them had taken down eight heavily armed men in just a few breaths. Leon calmly slid another clip into his handgun, but she understood the torn look on his face. Slaughtering undead was one thing, but killing human beings was a line not many were pleased to cross.

--

Walking again, the silence between them was even thicker than before. Claire realized she had to say something; Leon needed to hear that what he just did was a good thing. She had seen the same agonized look on her brother's face after his first shooting.

"You did what you had to, Leon," she assured him. "It was us or them."

"Yeah, thanks Leon," added Sherry. "Those men were bad."

"What do you know!" Leon suddenly yelled, his abrupt anger taking them aback. "What does a kid know about the feeling after you kill someone?" Claire stepped between them, her own eyes flaring.

"Do not take it out on her. Don't you dare, Leon," Claire said. "That kid has been through everything we have and more," she said coldly, her face inches from his. His eyes softened, and he turned away, continuing the march towards the highway wordlessly. He kept his magnum in hand, ready for more trouble. Claire looked to Sherry, preparing to soothe the pain of the girl's wounded ego, but the young girl was already recovered. Apparently she was tougher than Claire had thought.

"It's okay, Claire," said the little girl, grabbing the astonished woman's hand and pulling her forward. They caught up to Leon soon enough, but they were more comfortable walking a few steps behind him, his private introspection better left uninterrupted.

Watching Leon carefully, Claire tried to keep an eye out for trouble as well. The thick underbrush cast thick shadows everywhere, creating an endless number of ambush points, so she kept her weapons close at hand. Ahead, Leon stopped in his tracks. He turned back to them, the faint hint of a smile on his tired face.

"The highway is up ahead."

--

They crouched low as they approached the peak of the hill, staying down to prevent being spotted by anyone below. Laying on his belly, Leon squinted against the bright sun and peeked towards the highway. Claire crawled to his side, her arm tucked around Sherry to keep her down out of sight.

The highway below was bustling with activity. Canopied trucks and large boxes peppered the roadway as more armed men paraded about the barricades. A group of men were heaping bodies into a pile, but Leon couldn't tell if they were humans or undead.

"What do you think," Claire whispered to him.

"I can't tell from this distance what those are," Leon replied.

"I can't tell either," sighed Claire.

"We'll have to assume worse case scenario, that they're killing anyone who comes close," he said.

"No, those are zombies in that pile," Sherry said suddenly.

"You can see that far," Leon asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, I always had the best vision in all my classes," Sherry answered, beaming with pride. "Those masked men are different too," she added. It was Claire's turn to be doubtful.

"How can you be so sure, honey," she asked, somewhat skeptical but trying to hide it.

"See, the men down there are military and police, and the guys who surprised us worked at my daddy's work," Sherry pointed. "Their patches and clothes are different. See, those guys down there are dressed like GI Joes, not like COBRAs like those other men from before."

"Well, good thing for us she doesn't like Barbie," said a now convinced Leon. "We'll take our chances with the US government over Umbrella's lackeys," he added, rising to his feet and sliding down the hill.

--

"You're survivors," repeated the officer, looking over the exhausted trio. "Of the Raccoon City disaster?"

"How many times do you need to ask us that," Claire blurted out. "The answer is still the same." The heavy officer's face burned crimson, and he looked like he was about to burst.

"Look, officer, we've just been through the ringer and back," eased Leon. "Can't the questions wait?" The cop opened his mouth to answer, but he caught the eye of the young girl, huddled miserably under a wool blanket, and he simply nodded.

"I'll get you people some coffee," he said reluctantly. "And hot cocoa for the young missus," he asked, kneeling to look her in the eye. But Sherry looked away, only nodding.

"That'd be great…thanks," Claire said, putting her arm around the girl. She had been forced to break the news to Sherry that both her parents were dead, but she had left out Leon's involvement in the matter. Young as she was, she took it amazingly well, shedding few tears and preferring to be left alone. Claire desperately wished she had theoption to wait, but the girl kept asking about her parents, and one of the clueless cops was bound to tell her everyone else was dead.

Watching the cop walk away, Claire absentmindedly muttered to Leon: "I never did get along with cops." She realized who she was talking to, and immediately wished she hadn't said it. He turned to look at her, an eyebrow raised, but surprised her when he burst out laughing.

"Mr. Kennedy," interrupted a tall, well-dressed man who seemed to appear from nowhere. "Might we have a word with you?" Leon stared at the men, annoyed at their arrival, when they flashed an ID badge at him. Claire couldn't quite see it, but judging from the way Leon immediately obeyed, she figured they were important men. As they led him away, he turned to look back once more at the girls. And then he was gone.

--

"Very impressive, Mr. Kennedy, surviving such an…incident with so little training," the man with the dark sunglasses said. It struck Leon as odd, as they sat in a military tent with almost no light present save a lantern hanging overhead. The partner stood quietly behind him by the entrance.

"What's this all about," Leon asked, his eyes fixed on the man's sunglasses. "You want to shut me up or something?"

"On the contrary…we could use someone like you," replied the man. "You could of great use to your country."

"My country? What does this have to do with Umbrella? You are aware that this was all their fault, right?"

The one behind him spoke now, stepping forward and removing his sunglasses to reveal hard eyes.

"We are aware of that, and the US government is taking the appropriate steps to ensure Umbrella is held responsible," he said, sitting in the chair beside him. "We are also aware that you…dispatched an entire squadron of Umbrella's Countermeasure team. Most impressive."

"I had help."

"And the X-01 Tyrant you destroyed?"

"Ehh…I had help there too," he said, blushing at the memory. "Look, it was really a lot of luck and circumstance that helped us get out of there in one piece."

"Don't discredit your accomplishment, Mr. Kennedy. You've survived one of the greatest disasters in US history with a modest amount of training. Imagine what you could accomplish with the right kind of training…"

"Hey, I received training from—"

"Marvin Brannagh," interrupted the man sitting across from him, waving his hand in the air. "Pish posh. We are offering you a chance at a field position within our agency. Usually this requires decades of experience and—"

"Not interested," Leon replied, rising from his seat. "I learned a long time ago not to trust men who wear sunglasses in dark places, or don't introduce themselves."

The man beside him grabbed him roughly, pulling him back down with a tremendous strength Leon couldn't resist. The man across from him took off his sunglasses, and his narrow, mole-like eyes almost made Leon laugh aloud. Such a heavy set face, and with such sunken eyes, he really did resemble an animal. No wonder he wore those things all the time.

"It is in the interest of security that we do not reveal our names to parties we are…courting. But if you must address us, you can call me Agent…Blue, and the man restraining you Agent Red. Believe me, participation is suggested, especially when considering--"

"You can't hold me here against my will…if you want to do this, then arrest me," he cried, struggling to break free. He regretted handing over his weapons to the on-scene officers, as he was still too worn out to put up a decent battle.

"You're right, we cannot hold you without charging you. But there is the matter of those two civilians out there…our intelligence tells us that the lovely young woman also participated in those…murders."

"It was self defense! I'll testify on her behalf as well!"

"And there's always the matter of the young girl," he said, opening a folder and reading its contents aloud. "Sherry Birkin…age 12…daughter of William and Annette…exposed to the G-Virus and survived. It can be so harsh, the life of a lab rat…"

"You son of a bitch."

"Such harsh words, Mr. Kennedy! It really is a tragedy; her teen years spent being poked and prodded, her cadaver kept for scientific research, and your lady friend…she is quite protective of her as well. She might be injured in the struggle when we take young Birkin away, maybe even killed. Is that really what you want? Is protecting and serving the people in this country under our command any different than working under the RPD?"

Leon realized it then; they had him. No matter what he did, they had him. Even if he were armed, killing these men would change nothing. He would be carted off to prison with Claire, lost within the system, and Sherry would be taken to some research facility where she would live out the rest of her days as a lab specimen. He had no choice but to cooperate.

"What do I do," he finally asked, resigned.

"First off, you must sever your ties with that woman…" he began, outlining his requests.

--

"Claire, what do those men want with Leon," asked Sherry, her hands wrapped gratefully around the warm cup of cocoa.

"I don't know, honey," she replied, her alert eyes never leaving the small tent where they took him.

"I don't trust them," Sherry added, blowing gently at the hot drink.

"Me either," Claire said. "But Leon can take care of himself."

"Then why are you so worried?"

Claire was taken aback by the young girl's question, hot blood rushing to her face.

"I'm not worried. Leon is…" she began, searching for the words. Luckily for her, Leon emerged from the tent, his face emotionless and unreadable. He looked around, then moved straight towards the girls, the two agents close behind him. Claire smiled at his approach, but he couldn't seem to look her in the eye.

"This is…where we part ways," he said, finally looking at her. "It's best if you leave now, Claire."

"Wha--why? What is this, Leon," she asked, bewildered at his abrupt change.

"The US government wants to question us separately, and you have…other things you need to take care of," Leon said, and Claire wondered if he was hiding something, as he seemed to be choosing his words very carefully.

"The Birkin girl is coming with us," one of the men said, reaching for Sherry.

"No fucking way," Claire said, slapping his hands aside, surprised by her own words. She glanced at Sherry apologetically, but the young girl was too terrified to notice as the man reached into his coat pocket. Leon put a hand up to stop him.

"It's for her own good, Claire," Leon said. "And, I'll…keep an eye on her. It's not necessary that you come with us," he urged, his words hinting at something else. Claire looked at him, puzzled. What was he trying to tell her? "Just go!" he finally yelled, shoving her back. "Go, get out of here!"

The wounded look on Claire's face must have stopped him short, because he turned away, refusing to look at her. He took Sherry's reluctant hand, and began to lead her towards the gloomy agents. Claire opened her mouth to object, but could think of nothing to say; there weren't enough words to say what she felt in that moment. Wiping away a tear, she turned towards the woods and began to walk away. She seemed to think of something, and stopped, talking over her shoulder to her young friend.

"Be a good girl, Sherry," she said, steeling herself against the pain in her heart. "I'll be back to take care of you," she promised.

"Claire!" Sherry yelled, her small hand outstretched towards the one person she trusted most in the world. "Claire!" Leon patted her head gently, and she pulled away from his touch, offended. "We thought you were a good guy Leon," she cried, tears running down her face.

Her words tore at his heart. "It's for the best," he repeated, wondering if even he believed his own words.

Claire stood hesitantly at the edge of the dark woods, casting one last longing glance at her friends. Sherry was sobbing now, her hands still desperately reaching outwards, and Claire could only watch before turning away and disappearing into the underbrush.

--