AN: Alrighty-o, 'bout time I continued this. Ouch, new braces… not that I'm complaining, I love them, but ouch! Ahhh, the power of reviews! What else could make me forget showering, eating, writing for hours even though I have exams I should study for, just in the hope of getting one? Sorry about short chapter and the traditional gender-roles in the relationship between Ayla and Ugo, I sort of felt them to be a bit old fashioned. Oh, and sorry about the OC's too, I'll keep them as few as possible.

Chapter two: Departure

The sight of the red car made Fiona's cheeks tighten in a wide smile and she promptly dropped the suitcases as she rushed to greet the couple getting out of it. The man looked at her, a brief moment of surprise crossing his gentle face before he recognized the young woman and opened his arms to welcome her. Fiona threw herself at him, wrapping her frail arms around his body. She smiled and gave him a tender squeeze.

"Well, hello there, stranger!" Ugo chuckled while returning the hug. "It certainly has been a while!" He pulled her firmly away and studied her, a fatherly smile spreading on his lips. "And you keep growing more and more beautiful by every passing day! Just like your mother," he added and sent Ayla a little wink. She laughed and waved his comment off.

"Oh, Ugo, you sly fox," she said, before turning her attention towards Fiona. "Well, what is this? You give your father a hug and not me?" Ayla scolded, with a false hurt tone in her voice. Fiona grinned and embraced her mother, feeling happier than she had been in a long time.

"Much better!" Ayla said after a while, sounding satisfied. Like Ugo, she pulled Fiona away and scrutinized her. "Fiona, dear, you've grown so thin! Are you eating properly?"

Fiona rolled her eyes. "Yes, mother."

Ugo had gone to pick up Fiona's suitcases and came back with a slight smirk on his lips. "Now, now, Ayla, let's wait with bombarding our daughter with 'old-people-nag' until we get home, eh?"

Ayla ignored him. "I hope you remembered to pee. There is a long drive until the next toilet."

Ugo looked amused. "What did I say about waiting?"

"Why, you're a parent, Ugo! It's your duty to nag," Ayla explained, "or else the kids will start rollin' with the gangs, picking out junk-food leftovers between their teeth with folding knives and mugging elderly women by cash dispensers."

Ugo thought about this for a moment. "Yes, Fiona does look the type, doesn't she? I remember when she was little, she never left home without the balaclava and the 9 mm. hidden in her doll's pram, just in case she felt like robbing a bank."

Ayla laughed. "That's our Fiona, alright."

Fiona cleared her throat. "Maybe we should get into the car now?"

Ayla and Ugo quickly threw in their agreements; Ugo then stuffed the suitcases into the trunk with a debatable success, due to Ayla's period of IKEA-addiction and reluctance to throwing what others would consider garbage into the garbage can. "It can come in handy some day," she always used to say. Fiona traced her index finger along the cold metal of the door to the passenger seat before opening it and getting in. The air inside carried the distinct scent of car, the even more distinct scent of a car with a malfunctioned aircondition. The damp heat formed a glistening layer of moist on Fiona's pale skin, droplets of sweat immediately trickling out of its pores in an attempt to cool her down. Fiona pulled her collar and blew down into her shirt before wrenching her jacket off and throwing it away. She glanced out of the window, scrutinizing the various college students chatting and laughing together. The front door was roughly opened, startling Fiona, her father dumping into the seat with a deep sigh, swiftly followed by Ayla gracefully placing herself into the seat next to him.

"Well, that took a while," she teased. Ugo drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, sending her a dark glance.

"When will you ever throw that junk away?"

"It's not junk, Ugo. It's furniture."

Ugo opened his mouth to answer, Fiona quickly interrupting him. "So, uh… what's the surprise you're planning?"

"I'd like to know that myself," Ugo said, staring at Ayla in anticipation. She shook her head.

"It wouldn't be much of a surprise if I tell you, would it now?" she said and fiddled with the lock on the safety belt. "All I'll say about that matter is that it is a gift."

"And you can't even tell your dear husband?" Ugo pushed, grinning to Fiona as if ushering her into conspiracy with him against her mother. Fiona raised an eyebrow and returned the grin.

Ayla scoffed. "You always blurt out with surprises! Remember Fiona's ninth birthday party? Remember the guinea pig you bought her? You can't help it! You're a surprise-blurter!"

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are!"

"Come on now, that's not fair! At least give me a hint about your surprise? Can she wear it? Can she drive it? Does it bark? Is it shaped like a perfume-bottle? Does it fit into the DVD-player back home?"

Fiona blinked. "We have a DVD-player…?"

Ayla raised her hand and smacked Ugo across the back of his head. "Nice going, surprise-blurter! You just proved my point! No one gets to know anything until Fiona sees the surprise for herself."

Ugo chuckled and turned the car key in its slot. A loud rumbling sound emerged from the engine. "Fine. Be like that."

Not a soul was present in the quiet sickroom, with the exception of one man in his deepest sleep. Low whispering escaped his charred lips, obscured through the bandage wrapped around his head. He let out a dry cough, subconsciously swallowing the metallic taste that suddenly formed on his tongue. The forlorn silence was spoiled as the squeaky noise of a door opening echoed through the room, soon followed by slow footsteps. The footsteps halted a yard before reaching the bed carrying the sleeping figure. The other, black-clothed man rested his eyes on the damaged patient for a moment before sliding next to him, arching his torso slightly over him.

"Krauser?"

No reaction was seen on the sleeping man, a shaky breath slipping through his lips. Wesker tilted closer to him, sounding far more demanding as he once again said, "Krauser?"

Krauser's hand twitched, his subconscious mind recognizing Wesker's voice. Wesker's cold face softened. "Wake up, Jack."

The mercenary's blue eyes fluttered open, narrowing as they focused on his visitor. He tried to speak, words refusing to form. Wesker raised his hand dismissively, making Krauser cease his efforts and blankly stare at his employer in silence. The pale man pushed the sunglasses farther up his nose bridge, Krauser flinching as he bent close to him with his hand reached out. He bit back a groan at Wesker's touch, his gloved finger feeling the bandage coating Krauser's cheek. Oblivious to his pain, Wesker lifted the bandage slightly, scrutinizing the soldier's blistered skin without any sign of emotion crossing his face.

"Hm. It seems you are healing quite nicely," he stated after a while and pulled himself from the scorched man. "But too slowly I'm afraid."

Krauser blinked in confusion. Wesker looked away, absentmindedly eyeing the tapestry flaking off the walls. "My, we should really get something done about that. Don't you agree?"

The mercenary remained silent. Wesker shifted his eyes to him again, with his head tilted. "I'm leaving on a mission to Italy and I don't think I'll be back in a while. In the meantime I want you to keep an eye on Dr. Hamilton to make sure he doesn't betray me." He paused for a long moment, sucking in a breath. "I'm… ill. I suspect my dear doctor of trying to take advantage of it."

The charred soldier swallowed. Wesker placed his hand on his shoulder, a shallow sign of camaraderie. "I'm telling you this because I trust you and you alone, Jack. Do you trust me?"

A dry whisper emitted from Krauser's throat. He nodded. Wesker removed his hand and straightened himself up. "You must be eager to get out of that hospital bed. I've made something for you."

His gloved hand vanished into his jacket, swiftly fishing out a white plastic box. Krauser's eyes widened as Wesker opened it, presenting a long and slender syringe. The ex-S.T.A.R.S captain picked it out of the box and tapped the needle with his index finger. "This will aid the virus I've already injected into you, speeding up the healing process by 700 percent. Don't worry; it's not the least harmful. I daresay it's quite healthy."

Krauser closed his eyes, feeling something gently brush his right shoulder before it was replaced by a sharp pinprick.

"Sleep well," Wesker's voice purred. Footsteps moved away from his bed, the door's slam ricocheted and died out. Krauser opened his eyes, gluing them to a crack in the ceiling. If there was anything he intended not to do, it was to fall asleep again.

Fiona rested her head against the window, watching the trees fly past her sight like brown and green flashes of light. Her parents were having a heated discussion as to whether or not they liked their neighbor. Ayla was pro, Ugo was con, Fiona was too bored with their argument to pay attention and pick a side. Her bladder had been protesting for quite a while and she pondered as to how long they were going to drive without stopping. A faint, quivering rumble from her abdomen politely reminded her that she hadn't eaten anything in a while either. She waited for a pause in her parents voices before speaking up.

"Aren't we going to stop soon?"

Ayla looked at her. "Are you hungry?"

"That too."

"We'll reach a restaurant soon," Ugo threw in. "We could all use to stretch our legs."

"Fully agreed," Ayla said, "I can't wait to get out of this car. I'd call a mechanic, but Mr. Fix-It-Yourself is determined to destroy the airconditioner beyond salvation."

Ugo chuckled. "I'm not the one who ruined it in the first place."

Ayla moved closer to him and gave him a light kiss. "I know. I'm just teasing you."

Ugo smiled at her and rested his forehead against hers. "And I love you for it."

She smirked. "Keep your eyes on the road, darling.

"Oh, right."

Fiona puckered her brows. "Look! McDonalds!" She pointed at the large, yellow sign they were closing in on.

"Finally!" Ugo exclaimed, steering the car to the restaurant. Fiona met her mother's eyes in the looking-glass, and she swiftly broke the contact, suppressing a grin; she knew all too well what her worrywart mother felt about the kind of meals McDonald served and her facial expression did nothing to hide it. Ugo cursed about the lack of parking lots and, upon seeing another car closing in on a free spot, he stepped on the pedal, racing the other family to reach it. He smirked in triumph.

"Hah! We showed them! No one beats the Bellis!"

Ayla raised a brow. "That's great, dear. Let's go and get some food."

Fiona opened the door the second her mother had finished the sentence, closing her eyes and gratefully drawing in a deep breath of fresh air. An appalling smell of exhaust fumes slammed into her nostrils, but she didn't care. Freedom at last!

The chilly wind howled past the pilot's ears as she absentmindedly chewed on a toothpick, her deep brown eyes printing in the impression of the grey, desolate landscape surrounding the tall building. It had become a routine to her before every escort, followed by a silent prayer that she would never have to see any of it again. Mountain stretched far above the ground, as if reaching for heaven, never to be answered, never to be seen. Coated in a shimmery, white layer of the purest snow. Innocence, the woman thought. That's what the white color symbolized. She spat, the toothpick spinning in the air, falling peacefully off the edge of the roof, into oblivion. Bullshit, she thought. Color symbolized nothing. But meant everything. She continued to pore over the scenery, feeling saddened at the sight of the dead trees nestling the compound. The area of death around the massive building was growing and growing by every passing day, no doubt because of the toxic waste the scientists felt free to dump about as they liked. She huffed; they were going to pay for it someday, she knew it. She hoped it. She prayed, for all that still was good and holy in this world, that nature would stop putting up with the cruelty it had been forced to endure by malicious people and defend itself. Her thoughts drifted to her mission, sending a chill down her spine. She was not looking forward to it; that was certain.

"Wesker."

The name slid through her dry lips before she had the time to stop herself. It was uttered with dripping venom, portraying her feelings for the enigmatic man. She remembered the first flight with him. And the second one. And the third one. He would remain completely silent, never making an effort to acknowledge her presence, which would drive her mad and filling her with rage. Once he would get past his overblown ego and saying something, she would spit out sarcastic and malignant replies, usually resulting in a mental game of chess that would last for the rest of the trip. This had never seemed to bother Wesker; in fact, he seemed to quite enjoy it. That had to be the reason he always requested her to be his pilot. Her anger immediately flared up at the thought. Did he think her some sort of a toy? Didn't surprise her, really. Didn't stop her from despising the man, though. But this time, things were going to be different. She was not going to fall victim of his games, never again. She wasn't anybody's toy and this time she was going to prove it. Slow footsteps closed in on her.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, dear heart."

The pilot turned around, clenching her fists as she locked eyes with Wesker. Sleek and elegant as usual, blonde hair slicked back, his left hand clutching the handle of a briefcase. She merely nodded in his direction and walked to the helicopter. As she sat into the familiar seat and brushed her fingers gently against the joystick, she realized how far she was actually going to take him this time. The other man was sitting next to her, drumming his gloved fingers on the briefcase. She refused to look at him and concentrated on getting the engine started. The rotors moved slowly at first, pacing up, whipping up dust, filling her auditory channels with rumbling. They were no longer on solid ground, the force of the wind raising them higher and higher into the air. She sent a glance to Wesker, nearly jumping in her seat as she saw that he was staring straight at her. He smirked.

"Something wrong, dear?"

The pilot grumbled. "Nothing's wrong."

"You don't seem like yourself today."

"Oh, really?" she bit back, her fingers tightening around the joystick. Without a conscious thought, she continued before she was able to stop herself. "I'm so sorry for that, dear. You certainly seem like yourself, though; sticking your nose where it doesn't belong."

Oh, if only she could swallow her words. She glimpsed at him, catching a glint of satisfaction in his face before it disappeared. She couldn't believe how easily she had given in this time. The game was on.