--

Pulling him into a room off to the side, Leon felt a strange urge to resist, and pulled away from her soft grip a bit too suddenly. Hurt eyes stared up at him.

"What is it," he asked her finally.

"There's something I have to tell you," Claire answered slowly, doubt swimming in her cloudy eyes. "It's about someone you knew…"

"Who?"

As Claire opened her mouth to reply, Jill yelled to them from the other room. Leon looked at Claire expectantly, waiting for her to finish, but Claire was already hurrying out of the room. And though he couldn't be sure, he would have sworn that she looked relieved.

--

"Boss man says no scopes," said Stephens, setting down the radio against the lip of the ledge.

"What the fuck? Why not," asked Wachowski.

"Says the distance is short enough and the sun's glare could give away our position."

"Jesus, those guys don't know shit about this shit," whined the younger man. "Here we are, boiling in the open sun, dressed in fucking all black combat suits, and they're sitting in an air conditioned van while barking orders."

"Yeah, but they don't get to shoot anybody."

"Ha, that's true," he said, laughing as he reached into his belt's pouch.

"Hey, you're not really using that thing, are you? The range is less than fifteen yards," said Stephens, watching his comrade attach a small black laser scope to the backbone of the rifle. "And it's daytime."

"Call me superstitious, but I never miss with this thing," replied Wachowsi, steadying his rifle on the ledge.

"Hey, hey, boss man said to keep the pieces out of view."

"Boss man can suck it for all I care. If we're sitting up here and sweating our asses off, I wanna get a look at just who it is we're aiming at. Unless you brought the binoculars," he said, knowing the older man was loathe to carry the full equipment bag up all those rickety stairs.

"No, I didn't. Just like you didn't."

"My apathy must be rubbing off on you," said the younger man, grinding out his cigarette against the black tar rooftop. "Too bad my marksmanship hasn't. I ever tell you about the time I put a bullet through a grape from four kilometers with a mountain crosswind?"

"Yes, you did. Only last time you told that story, it was three kilometers and in the pouring rain."

Wachowski had indeed made a shot once that all snipers had dreamed of. However, what he never told anyone was that he wasn't exactly aiming for the grape. His spotter had known the truth, but he was sent into Raccoon City with his UCBS platoon the next day and never came back. And so, the legend of Wachowski's skill had grown, but nearly as exponentially as his ego. If anyone were to ask him, he'd never missed a shot in his life. There was some truth to this; after all, a fired bullet must eventually hit something, thus meaning he had never actually missed.

"Holy shit, you should check out the babes in this apartment," he gasped. "Bonerific."

"Dammit man, show some discipline" urged Stephens. "If we land them now, there's a cool million per head and we can go home."

"And if we don't, the amount goes up again and our European vacation gets extended," replied the gawking man. "Shit, you should see the rack on this one," he said, licking his lips as he raked his rifle's sights over her trim body. "Be a shame to put a bullet through that…"

"Good god, man! Get a goddamn grip on yourself," said the other man, who was struggling to hide his own curiosity. After a few moments, seeing the boyish leer on Wojo's face, Stephens couldn't resist the urge and he too raised his rifle to get a better look across the street.

--

Leaning back in her swiveling chair, Jill couldn't help but be pleased with herself. Leon grinned goofily at her as he followed Claire into the room. His earlier questions about whom Claire had met were suddenly unimportant as he watched Jill uncross her legs as she stood up, straightening her short skirt. She had tied her long hair up in a messy bun atop her head, with a wooden pencil dug in to hold her thick locks in place. Leon tried to think of baseball…it wasn't working.

"So, what do you have for us," Claire asked of Jill, who was now seated again.

"I hacked into the weather satellite for that area and found a series of mountains that might fit the description of Sherry's and her other details. My question is, do you think Sherry wrote some of these letters in code?"

"I'd think so," replied Claire. "The details seem so mundane to anyone not looking for a code, that it sounds to me like they'd just leave them in."

"Unless they expected her to do this and changed a detail here or there to throw us off," suggested Jill.

"That's very possible," offered Leon. The way the two women looked at him, they seemed genuinely surprised he was even there.

"I don't think so," countered Claire, leafing through the letters in her hand. "Across the letters we see similar details and references, letters from over a year apart. To come up with that complex a lie seems silly, especially when one small detail could throw us off completely."

"I was thinking of that too, so I cross referenced some of her weather descriptions with the dates on the actual letters. Like this one, for example," she said, holding one up for them to see. "Dated January 17th of last year, and she mentions hail and sleet. The farmer's almanac for West Virginia supports that claim, but the Virginia one doesn't. Her letters are supposedly coming from Virginia, but it's not such a stretch to have her letters mailed from across state lines. However, it does tell us that if someone else is writing them, they didn't write them all at once and simply send them out at different times."

"Brilliant," said Leon, shaking his head in wonder at Jill's detective work. Claire glared at him; she could understand his obvious schoolboy crush on Jill, but this was serious work they were doing. He needed to keep his head in the game. She caught his eye and he reddened.

"Ah, that is, have you tried cross referencing with other nearby states," he asked, trying to contribute something.

"Yes, all the adjacent states to Virginia and West Virginia, which covers that whole region."

"What if they mailed it to another state, only to have that contact mail it again," wondered Claire. "It's not that hard to do, and it'd throw a huge monkey wrench into any type of paper trail."

"That's true," Jill said, her forehead scrunching in thought. "Is there anyway we can verify the dates of the mailing on the letters and the postmark dates on the envelopes? That would answer that question."

Leon waited for Claire to explain the circumstances, but she only turned to look expectantly at him with Jill. Apparently she wanted him to acknowledge his mistake again, in front of the other woman.

"Ah, I kind of left them back home," he said weakly. Jill didn't seem to react to his answer, only to turn back to her computer and continue tapping away at the keyboard. Leon's face fell.

"Is there anyone who can give us the dates off them, or even fax them to us, like a girlfriend," Claire suggested. She paused, seeming to think for a moment. "Or a…boyfriend?"

Jill caught the laugh in her throat and composed herself, pretending to cough. "We have a secure line here, running through about a dozen access points, so you can use the phone. A fax, however…you'll have to go down around the corner to the store to use it," she said, seeing Leon's face redden brightly.

Still fuming over Claire's remark, Leon thanked Jill with a nod and headed to the phone, his ears burning crimson. Dialing the numbers, the other line was picked up on the third ring.

"Hey, it's me," said Leon.

"Leon, how goes it man," greeted Carlos. "How's Ireland?"

"London, and good so far. Listen, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure man, but make it quick. Heading into the city tonight…"

"In my footlocker, there's a stack of envelopes…get them."

He heard Carlos put the receiver down but pick it up a moment later.

"You got a combination lock on it. What, you don't trust me or something, man?"

"Should I? The combination is thirty six-twenty four-thirty six."

He could hear Carlos' grin on the other line. "You get that specially made?"

"No, just lucky I guess."

"Yeah, if she's five-foh'," added Carlos.

"Huh?"

He sighed. "Nothing, nothing. Alright, hold up a sec." Returning a moment later, he gave Leon the info he needed.

"Thanks Sundance," said Leon, knowing Carlos would appreciate him saying that, and the thought triggered a memory. "How was…the uh, service?"

"First funeral I been to in awhile," Carlos said somberly. The change in his tone caught Leon off guard. Memories of that cold dark day came rushing back, the panicked screams in fumbling darkness, the chattering fire glow of automatic gunfire highlighting their grimly bloodstained faces.

"Oh," was the only reply he could muster. "Did a lot of his family make it?"

"A whole lot of no one made it," replied Carlos, trying to keep light. "A few of us from the unit made it, but the higher ups were swamped with paperwork after that disaster of an operation. Guess the guy had no family."

"I'm sorry I couldn't make it," said Leon.

"Nah, it's alright, hombre. Billy wouldn't have wanted us to make a big deal out of it anyways."

"I know," he said weakly. "But I still should've been there."

"It was your leave time, man. Ain't no way you're gonna get it changed."

"Yeah, but still…"

"Forget about it. Rest up on your leave time while you can; don't worry about us."

"He was a nice guy, a really good guy."

"Let's not get carried away, Leon. We fought on the same side, but he knew the risks just like us."

"I guess."

"Look, I know why you're concerned, but let it go. You gotta stay frosty if you wanna make it in this business."

"You're right, you're right," Leon replied. But as he wished his friend well and hung up the phone, he couldn't believe that kind of thinking one bit.

--

Cross-referencing the information had been successful. With the dates from the envelopes as a time reference, Jill had narrowed down their search to three possible locales in the two states, and Claire was eternally grateful. Leon was disappointed that their collaboration had to end, but when Jill touched his arm, he felt warm electricity coursing through his body, and all disappointment was instantly forgotten. He followed the two women to the living room of the apartment, and couldn't help but wonder how they afforded such a nice apartment with none of them working.

It was more of an armory than an apartment with all the guns and weapons they had lying around, fancy pieces from all over the world and more than a few expensive antiques. The rooms stank of cordite and gunpowder, and Leon had asked them why they weren't worried about the police coming after them as suspected terrorists. Chris stared at him blankly.

"They care about terrorists around here as much as the US does," he said. "That being, not at all. Like most people, they just want to sweep it under the rug, let someone else handle it. It's only when some terrorist cell bombs a school or a hospital in their hometown do people start to care. It's the same thing with Umbrella. No one seemed to care what they were doing. People knew. Dammit, powerful people knew. And they decided not to do anything because it wasn't an in-your-face-problem. Well, we're not going to let that slide. Our plan is to take down Umbrella for good."

"But…they are down. The government froze the company's stock and assets, effectively killing off the corporation," Leon said.

"It's never that simple. That's like trying to kill a zombie by depriving it of its hands and feet. You kill it by taking out the head, the brain."

"But this isn't undead we're dealing with. The O.R.E. is taking care of—"

"The O.R.E. is a sham," Jill said suddenly from her seat in the corner. She was leaning against the arm of a recliner, her long legs crossed at the knee, and staring unflinchingly at Leon. He opened his mouth to argue, but relented under her determined gaze.

"It's not perfect, but it's finishing the job you're talking about," he finally said, stealing another glance at her. She was still staring at him with those azure eyes, and he began to squirm.

"Just be careful of whom you trust," she said gently, her eyes softening as her soft lips parted ever so slightly in a small smile. Leon's heart skipped a beat. Was this what love felt like, he wondered.

"You seem to trust me just fine, and I'm involved with them," Leon muttered under his breath.

"Leon…" Claire began. "I—we trust you, but we're worried about O.R.E.'s agenda is all," she added, touching his arm gently. He bristled at the contact, turning to look distantly out the window.

"My bosses want Umbrella taken down too; isn't that what matters?"

"What kind of information does your agency have on Umbrella," asked Barry, still intent on cleaning his gun, peering through an empty cylinder as he swabbed it.

"I rarely see the intel myself, but I know it's pretty up to date," Leon replied.

"How can you be sure? You haven't even been on the field to know if it's good or not," Chris said, his tone harsh. Claire flashed him a look. "That is…yet," he added, giving his sister a copasetic glance.

"Everything is top of the line, first string," he answered. "No doubt the information is the same."

"That's quite an assumption," Barry said, putting down his gun pieces. "But whether or not it's reliable, I'll say what we're all thinking: we need it anyways," he confided.

"That's true," echoed Jill thoughtfully. "Misinformation can be useful in the right hands."

"So, what you're saying is you want me to risk my freedom and career to be your error checker," Leon asked, standing up abruptly. He walked to the window and stared at the usually bustling street below. It was quiet now, nearly teatime perhaps. Standing silently against the warm breeze flowing through the cracked window panel, he felt their curious eyes burning into his back. Claire sauntered over to his side, avoiding his gaze as she stared out the window herself.

"Leon…about what I was trying to tell you earlier," she began, an uncharacteristic nervousness creeping along the edge of her words. "I wasn't sure if I should tell you or not, but when I was on Rockfort, I saw a—"

Had she been wearing her usual red jacket, he would've missed the glowing dot on her chest. Against her black t-shirt, though, it stood out like a bloody stain, a moving bloody stain. Understanding instantly what it was, he threw his body at her, burying her with his chest as they crashed to the floor. As they fell, he noticed the two shimmering glints across the street: a pair of snipers, maybe more in hiding. Hearing her muffled grunt beneath him, he knew she was fine once the bullets started flying.

Barry flipped over the heavy kitchen table he had been working on, ducking behind it as he drew his Python. Jill was furiously working at something by the front door as Chris ran into the kitchen after tossing a smoking pellet to the floor.

"Jill, get back," yelled Barry, leveling his revolver at the door with a grim grin. "Let 'em in, I'll cover your escape!"

Leon and Claire were crawling towards the kitchen as a downpour of broken glass rained down on them, furniture disintegrating under the hail of heavy gunfire. Keeping one eye on the monitor in the other room, Jill twisted one last wire into place before following the others.

The lights above them flickered once before dying completely with the rest of the power. A moment later, the loud whirling of a backup generator snapped to life, and they came back on. Back on the keyboard, Jill turned to Chris with a smile.

"See, that's why we run the computer off the backup generator," she gloated playfully, winking at him. Chris shrugged, sliding a magazine into another rifle before tossing it to her. The kitchen was windowless, so they were in no danger from the snipers across the street. Jill switched over the monitor's display, and a black and white video feed from the hallway appeared on the screen. Two lines of five armed men were just outside the door on both sides of the hallway, the lead man prepping his battering ram. "Barry, get in here," she yelled over the gunfire.

A moment later, Barry's large shape came crashing through the doorway, his vest covered in sparkling shards of glass. He still held his beloved Python, but he had added over a half dozen other guns, all strapped across his body. Leon had a feeling he had a lot more hidden ones.

"They're at the door," Leon told Barry, who only nodded, his hand cannon still aimed at the doorway behind them. "What do we do now," Leon asked. The sniper fire seemed to have stopped, which meant a breach was inevitable. They had been lucky that the sniper slipped up, or they would have been sitting ducks. As it was, the sniper's mix-up probably put the breach team in a bad situation, who might not have been in position at the time.

"Always have a backdoor," Claire said, watching as her brother lifted the floor panels to reveal a narrow shaft. Leon peered down its dark mouth and saw no ladder or handholds.

"You're kidding," he said. Chris grinned in response.

"Just brace with your legs and let yourself slide down; the landing is soft…I promise," he said, signaling Leon to go ahead. Leon looked at him warily, and Chris' responded by handing him a large pistol and an extra clip.

Claire pushed Leon aside, grabbing a submachine gun and her jacket. Without hesitating, she leapt down the hole and disappeared.

"See, not so hard," Chris said. He put his hand on Leon's shoulder. "Listen, if we get split up, I want you to keep an eye on my sister," he added, his eyes pleading silently for trust. Nodding, Leon looked back once at the others before diving in.


Writer's note: To the observant readers out there, I am aware that I left Leon and Carlos hanging in that Arctic facility with Billy dead, their squadron under attack, and their purpose unexplained. However, I plan to allude to that event from the various character point of views, painting a picture in fragments. It might come off a bit disjointed, but I like the idea that even the people involved really had no idea what exactly happened. I had originally intended to write another, separate story about Leon's ORE days, because it was rather distracting to write about, but I felt I owed it to him since I started it here, sort of like how I dragged out Claire's escape for so long. Honestly, I felt a little guilty about making Leon such a bumbling fool around the women, but it has been awhile since he's interacted with a woman, much less two very attractive ones. There was a need for humor in that part, juvenille as it might be...

Also been tossing around the thought of renaming my story, since Ada has seemingly taken a backseat to all the other RE characters popping in and making noise. However, when I started this, I had intended for her relationship with Leon and Wesker to be the centerpiece of the story, since it connected all the canon games. And yet…Ada hasn't reunited with Leon, and he doesn't even know she's alive! Oh well. Ada is still my favorite character to play with, and I have a lot more in store for her in coming installments.