Takes place alongside: Chapter 11

When Alexia and Alfred had been small, Marigold had told them stories of their German grandmother, Liesel. "Her family had been old Prussian blood, but the Great War had left them with little else but their name. People began to get desperate as things got bad again. You wouldn't expect a woman of her station to be as good a seamstress as she was, but it's amazing what she managed to smuggle out when they finally fled. Papers, jewelry, money…people say that they fled with only the clothes on their backs, and it's true. But they were also prepared to do so and survive what came after. She always seemed to know absolutely everyone. When I grew up, I discovered that really wasn't far off the mark."

Alfred had loved little war stories like that, although Scott had been a better source of them, having actually served himself. But when Marigold had leaned down and torn the false backings from the cargo pockets on the shins of her military fatigues, Alexia realized that, for her aunt, they hadn't been mere stories, but her some of her earliest lessons.

Sewn into those smugglers' pockets had been three old, cracked leather diaries, small and thin enough to fit in a pocket. Marigold had hidden them from her keepers, and smuggled them in with her, Alexia had realized. Marigold had held them out to Alexia with a tremulous hand until Alexia had stepped forward to take them. The older woman had almost seemed to sag in relief to be rid of them. "I talked them into letting me retrieve documents, and found these. They're Spencer's accounts of the early days. No one else knows they exist. The measures I had to take…" Marigold had trailed off then, but her eyes had held Alexia's, imploring. "I couldn't trust that I had privacy, but I managed to hide these when I came across them. I've read them. You must. Use what you have to…this is what you're up against. Promise me you'll read them."

"I will." Alexia said, feeling numb. The words had the weight of an oath. Marigold had pressed them into her hands as if Alexia had the last seat out of Antarctica before it fell…and she realized that with the T-Virus in Alfred's wake, that day was uncomfortably close. She took the diaries in both hands to still any tremors that might manifest in herself, face solemn. "Auntie…I will. You can rest now. And I'll do the same."

That had been hours ago. Alexia had cleaned up, broken up yet another spat between Alfred and Grayson (it had been significantly easier back when neither of them were armed, but then again, so was she), and then taken her time in breaking in her bed with Grayson. She'd fallen into a sound, satisfied sleep.

Grayson had gone by the time she had awoke. The journals were still on her vanity. Auntie Marigold had clung to these with desperate determination. She flipped open the first of them, bookmarked with short, annotated Post-Its by Marigold. A quick scan of these little summaries suggested…

Ah. Lord Spencer would hardly be pleased to learn of her return, then. The outbreak Grayson had spoken of in Raccoon City had had reprecussions everywhere.

There were little mentions of her 'network' throughout. Alexia had once thought it to be a bland corporate thing, but as she got older, she'd noticed that word come into many conversations surrounding Marigold's condition. Here, she had placed notes next to specific names, and assigned them what could only be a specific code: Bailey, Marcus, various executives.

Auntie Marigold hadn't come with a plan, exactly. But she'd come bearing tools, ready for deployment.

And she'd also been afraid. Whatever had stalked her from the basement of Arklay (oh, that would rankle for some time now) was still out there.

Which meant that she needed to know what Alfred had seen on Rockfort. What her aunt wasn't saying.

Alexia sighed. Perhaps it was for the best that she hadn't killed the imbecile on the spot.

"He's still alive, then."

Alfred turned in his armchair at the sound of her voice. He'd fallen asleep there once Grayson had bandaged his wounded leg. "Yes," he replied, looking warily pleased that she was speaking with him again. "That lab is still sealed. I thought he would starve for a while, but he never did. I'm told that the facility workers gave him a penny dreadful nickname when he wouldn't stop howling." Alfred looked at the books in her hand. "What-"

"She smuggled these out with her. Grandmother Liesel's lessons, I believe." Alexia said, brows knitted together. "I don't know how she got her hands on Spencer's old diaries, but they confirm quite a bit. Some of her notes, though…" Alexia sighed. "I wish I'd been able to go over her old notes at some point. I have a feeling this would make more sense."

Alexia reached, with her hyphae. In the BOW lab, a creature with a similar virus as hers still lived. She shuddered. It was like no time had passed at all. "There are people down there. Did Grayson- "

"Stepped out, I assume. He'll be fine." Alfred said, almost shortly. He looked at her. "You spoke with Marigold, then?"

Alexia pursed her lips, then let it go, for now. She'd been dealing with Alfred's old petty jealousy towards Grayson since he arrived, and it was wearing thin. "Not for long. She seemed…agitated over what happened. Cryptic. I let her rest. I don't think she knows about Alexander yet- Auntie didn't say-"

"She knows." Alfred said, voice flat. "She would have come down with me to see you if she hadn't. She knew about you both. Something about sensing it, like a…viral empathy, she called it. Callie had a panic attack at the elevator when I tried to bring her down with me, because of it." He looked away.

Like the hyphae, but also not. Interesting. Alexia held up the pEpsilon card. "I knew they'd weaponize this eventually. What do you know?"

Alfred stared at her. His eyes were bloodshot, with dark, heavy circles under them. He had hardly slept in days, she realized. Still, he reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew and small disk drive. "Enough. She told me much of it on the flight, and I can show you the rest."

Alfred spoke while he loaded up the video files he had brought over. All the while he spoke - the phone call that summer, the radio silence following. The invasion by HCF. They had been trying to use the re-captured 'specimen' as a weapon, and there had been a moment where he almost fell into the trap - but she turned on them as soon as she managed to resurface from the drug cocktail. "Auntie…bit a man, near the jet," Alfred said, suddenly uncomfortable. "She seemed to know what she was doing. From what she was saying, it was a concern…before. It only took a moment before she was able to turn him loose on the rest of their forces in command." Alfred looked at Alexia. "It sowed enough chaos that I could detonate the labs there. It will take them time to regroup."

"Long enough for an evacuation," Alexia said, distantly. She thought back to those little coded notes, paired with names. "She bit him?"

"Yes," Alfred said, pulling up the video. "She seemed uncomfortable about it when she was lucid, but…well, look." He pressed play on the video. "If we hadn't learned to sign back then, I don't know what might have happened."

The video feed was silent, but Marigold had worked out that she could communicate with anyone watching the camera feed. Marigold had avoided attaching a name to the man who had done this to her, but she had left enough context clues in their short conversation. Alexia had been to Arklay before for a short research trip; long enough to recognize the man on the screen. "Is that…" she stared, then snickered. "I have a feeling this is going to be the second-funniest thing I've come across today."

"Yes. He transferred to the Intelligence Department a few years ago. He led a team down to Arklay for combat data once it was clear that the facility was lost. They reported him dead." Alfred rolled his eyes. "Callie said that she verified it with three different people before she tried to leave Raccoon City. Getting skewered through the chest wasn't enough, apparently."

"What -" Alexia began to say, but the video showed him beginning to drift to a place she recognized within the Matilda. She barked a short laugh. "No." Even if he had infected himself, Alexia had the numbers for how much force Marigold usually hit that particular wall Dr. Albert Wesker had positioned himself in front of.

"It gets so much better," Alfred said with barely suppressed glee. They watched the rest in silence, Alexia wincing when the grainy woman on the screen leaned down and seemed to tear into her victim's throat. "So that's where all the blood came from." She frowned. "He should have been pulverized. Did she say what- "

"Only that 'he was still in her head' when she held him down, and that he regenerated like a starfish. I…" Alfred looked lost for a moment, eyes unfocused. "I couldn't follow. Somehow she kept him from getting out of…that." The crows suddenly exploded into the frame as Marigold left it. "They were hungry enough that he's likely not following for a while."

Alexia kept watching the screen until the video ran down, and the screen went black. "So…why is she so afraid of him?" Marigold had temporarily abandoned herself, to position herself for that attack, and there had been something deeply personal about it.

Not an immediate issue, she'd said…

When Marigold had visited her at Oxford during Alexia's studies, she'd garnered a lot of unsolicited attention from her older male classmates. Marigold had brushed it off, though she'd kept a wary eye on her surroundings while out in public. Alexia knew that Marigold could easily overpower anyone who posed a problem, back then, even though she had elevated conflict avoidance to an art form.

What would happen if she couldn't fight? Marigold hadn't said, but Alexia was beginning to wonder. Alfred, in his clearly frail state, had gotten an edited version.

Discomfort be damned. It was time to find out what was waiting for them out there.

She'd need all the information she could get if she had to fortify their little keep for long enough to prepare their exit.

Alfred watched Alexia leave the room, his head swimming. He'd built up the moment of her awakening so much in his mind. Her distance seemed sharper than before. The virus had made her stronger as she slept, while also delivering eldritch weapons to use at a whim.

He'd taken too many pills to stay alert during the attack, and they were wearing off hard. Alfred had also accepted the emergency shot Marigold had given him, there in the garden. He'd settled for a bit, but the tremors were slowly returning. Trying to drink himself into a dreamless sleep had only left him feeling the full force of the hangover. Whatever Marigold had sensed in him (you've been in the roses), it was doing its own damage.

Did you really think it would get any better? 'Alexia's' voice whispered in his head. She left you to fend for yourself. At least I never left. I kept us safe, didn't I?

Alfred groaned, only peripherally aware of the nature of the argument he found himself in. "She's here. She only just woke. I need to rest. Aunt Callie told me as much."

The voice sighed. Of course, dear brother. Auntie saw just how much I took care of you, all these years. Sleep well, brother.