Alan Green winced as his wife seemed to materialize from nowhere to slam the heavy phone down in front of him. "You need to call her back."

Alan frowned at his wife of nearly thirty years. "Poppy Higgins? And say what, exactly?"

Gemma held firm. "She may not hear anything, but she knows something's up, just as much as I do. Why are you avoiding her?"

"Love-"

"Don't start with that. That woman had been through hell since her father died, and she still managed to trust us enough to make sure you had a soft landing. Even after what your cousin tried to do."

"Maxwell? What's he got to - no, nevermind that." He shook his head. Maxwell's health had recovered somewhat some years back, but he'd never quite recovered. They'd fallen out of touch ages ago. "Bringing Poppy into this won't make the situation any easier, Gemma."

"Do you know that? Poppy knows how to deal with the family. Whatever you're doing, odds are that she's going to have to clean up after your little adventure." She spat out the last word.

Alan stared at her, mind churning. Gemma had a point. Wesker was being tight-lipped about whatever was happening down at Rockfort, and that wasn't a good sign. Mark had insinuated that he was not to lose the 'asset'- even belligerent, Marigold's condition had Progenitor written all over it, in a way that actually worked, and had remained stable. The potential of that was immeasurable.

The odds were high that Marigold was still trying to save her brother's children- misanthropic and temperamental creatures that they were. Alan had been one of the few to know just how much she had doted on them - someone had to cover her tracks when she traveled down to visit, and she had always been adamant that they stay covered. Based on the report, she'd gotten her nephew out of Rockfort, and was attempting the same with her niece.

Whatever Alexia had been doing had gone wrong, somehow, given how Alexander had simply vanished. Alan could feel it in his bones. Alexander had been all the family Marigold had left for years. If that were the case…

Alan felt his mouth go dry. "I think you're right," he said slowly, feeling the blood drain from his face. "We're in over our heads on this." As much as he didn't want to deal with Poppy's anger, nor her grief, no one else had a better handle on the family dynamics. He reached for the telephone.

Alexia walked through Marigold's room- the bed had been slept in recently- into the adjoining bathroom. It had been designed, more than most, with decontamination in mind. In the shower hung a drying uniform from the mercenary outfit that had attacked Rockfort, a Kevlar vest sitting on the floor next to it.

Privacy was a luxury for people who had time.

Marigold herself was sitting in the bath, immersed to her shoulders in steaming, cloudy water with a eucalyptus scent. She cracked her eyes open and rolled her head towards Alexia at the sound of the door opening, giving her a wan smile. "Hello," she said in a voice roughened by sleep and the exhaustion that hadn't managed to leave her yet. "Is that Veronica's dress? It looks good on you. I suppose today counts as your debut. I didn't have the coloring to pull it off back when it was my turn." There was a touch of the gentle amusement that her aunt had always spoken to them with when they were children.

Alexia looked around, then pulled the chair by the door over to the bath. She sat, finally taking a long, critical look at the older woman.

Marigold did look smaller now, which might have been a function of her own growth. She and Alexia had similar colouring- pale, flaxen-haired, though with Marigold it was nearly a Scandinavian white- and it hadn't been unusual for people to assume she was an elder cousin to Alexia. That dynamic had shifted, in that they might have been easily mistaken for sisters- twins even.

The hollow look in Marigold's eyes was new. But so was the trail of dark marks along the line of her neck, on her shoulders, and disappearing down under the water.

Marigold, with obvious resignation, watched Alexia as the realization bloomed on her face- indignation, fury, finally resolving into a point of interest she could deal with in front of her. "You always healed so fast. How recent is all of this?"

"Days, I think. They've been lingering longer over the last few weeks. It's why I tolerated the hormone patches." She grimaced a little. "I'd rather eat glass than have this conversation, but it needs to happen. I won't be blackmailed over something my libido spent six weeks kicking me in the throat over after I woke."

"Oh..oh." Alexia fidgeted in her seat, recalling the enthusiasm with which she had…greeted… Grayson on waking. And again later, when they have come back up into the house. Six weeks? Alexia hadn't waited six minutes after waking. She firmly stepped on that particular thought, flushing a deep red.

Marigold looked at her with a steady eye, choosing mercy. "I suppose that part comes from Sonnetroppe. The medication tamped that down for years - the appetites - but it made me too weak to fight properly when they cornered me in '81. If that one woman hadn't put an end to the whole circus by telling them I was sterile, I think things would have been so much worse."

Alexia went cold. "What woman."

Marigold looked away. "I was ready to burn the world down for a little while, when I was told you and your father had died. I thought Spencer had…I can't imagine what it would have done to Grayson." Marigold leveled a flat, hard look at Alexia. "Annette Fletcher is dead. I made a friend who saw it happen. It's not like anyone can bring them back, can they." That last part was said in a sharp tone, pain threatening to crumple Marigold's smooth features.

It threw cold water on the embers of Alexia's jealous anger over how Grayson had spent the last few years. Alfred was right. Marigold knew about Alexander, and that knowledge was slowly eating away at her.

Alexia took a deep breath. Killing Alexander had freed her from her childish fears, proving to herself that the thugs working in the facility down below weren't something to be afraid of. That Umbrella itself could be made to bend, if need be. By the time Alfred had found out how they'd been made, she'd been one lit match away from freeing him from the weight of his own towering paranoia anyhow. Auntie Marigold had always been the family's bulwark against outside interference, and without her, Alexander had seen enemies everywhere.

Something else Marigold had said snagged in her mind. "You told Alfred that you were running out of time, but you didn't tell him why. I think I need to know what happened since Arklay."

Marigold sighed. "I know you do. I'll tell you what I can."

Marigold talked.

Eventually, the water cooled, and Marigold called for a break to get out and find a robe. They went into Alexander's old study, seating themselves on the sofa. Grayson had left a note for Alexia before going down into the facility, letting her know that there were fresh beignets in the kitchen for her. Alexia had retrieved the platter for the two of them, as well as the box of toffees placed conspicuously next to them, engrossed in the tale. "So you convinced them to go down into Raccoon City; that's where you got those journals."

"And ran my field tests. I didn't share anywhere near the full scope of what I was looking for, obviously. There was only the combat one that they were really aware of, but G-Virus has a very loud, shrill quality to it. I don't know how else to describe it. As soon as Birkin injected himself - "

"No!" Alexia was clearly trying not to laugh around a mouthful of beignet, looking more like a girl at a slumber party. Marigold had mentioned it earlier, but Alexia clearly hadn't really lingered on that fact at the time. "Why would he do that?"

"Why did you?"

"I gave myself time to bond to it!" Alexia argued, as if that explained everything.

"I think he tried to sell it directly to the government, and Umbrella, well, objected. With bullets. I wasn't prepared for that- felt like being possessed." Marigold shivered at the memory. "I wanted to hurt him for that. For being involved in the whole sordid thing." She smiled a little at the memory. "So I did. Irons didn't recognize me at first, but he likely had nightmares for the rest of his very short life after I made him connect me to their lab. The least I could do was to let her know I was about to play 'break the idiot' for twenty minutes so she could get a few things to slow the spread."

Alexia's face darkened. "Irons? I've met him."

"Also dead, dear. Someone else's handiwork, quite brutal from the sounds of it." Marigold frowned. "The man was a predator, but I had to make do. Did something happen? I…you mentioned that you spent some time at Arklay."

"I was studying a mutated plant there in '83 - there should be a cutting of it in the facility if it survived. Irons pulled Grayson over when he was taking me to see a film. Nothing happened, but…" Alexia grimaced. "Only because he realized who I was."

Marigold stared at her, then drew the younger girl into a sudden, careful hug, holding her firm when Alexia flailed briefly before settling awkwardly into the embrace. "You're still a lot stronger than I am, Auntie," Alexia chuckled in a slightly breathless voice.

Marigold pulled back, letting Alexia go, but still reached forward and squeezed her hand while smoothing the hair out of Alexia's face with the other. "I'm sorry. I've missed so much. I do know that Irons is dead, and we're both here. Shall I continue?" She watched Alexia closely, who nodded, clearly eager to be rid of the memory. "I…Oh, it's always so uncomfortable to try to put these things into words." She huffed a little at the memory. Finding the words for what she'd done made it sound like a bad acid trip. "It turns out that G-Virus can be leveraged into a very nice little figurative satellite phone, if you keep the call short." Marigold snorted. "I doubt it can be done again - I pushed hard enough that my eyes finally mutated like they always threatened to do under medication. But…activating the Teig O'Kane protocol was worth it." Marigold's smile was sharp, merciless. "When I got back, I let them feel in control of the situation…and waited."

Alexia smiled back, a little uncertain. "Whatever for? Why not leave? Why work with someone who did that to -" Alexia looked away, her face schooled into a mask. The girl was in turmoil, to Marigold's practiced eye.

"Between Raccoon City and Teig O'Kane, Spencer lost a lot of resources, and he's distracted trying to hold the rest together. He - Wesker - was quite happy to keep me off of Umbrella's radar while I got my bearings."

"You worked with him."

"He seemed very eager to dismantle Spencer. There's some history there, I think. And..he seems to have had a fixation." Marigold felt her face shift into an uncomfortable grimace at the euphemistic phrasing.

"On Spencer." Alexia said, dubious. Please don't make me spell this out, Marigold pleaded silently.

"Yes…not only Spencer though. He caught on to what I did to Doctor Marcus when he still worked for him." Marigold let go of Alexia, hands curling into loose balls. "So long as he was distracted from asking questions about the family, I could handle it. I could use it. So long as he, they, didn't target you." Marigold made a frustrated sound. "But in the end, they still did. I did what I had to." She frowned. "Your brother isn't well. Surely you've noticed."

Alexia started to speak, then closed her mouth. Bless her, the girl was trying so very hard to be kind. "I've been trying to triage the situation as a whole. I thought he was just exhausted. The bullet wound didn't help."

Marigold exhaled a long, frustrated breath through her nose. "Of course. Yes, but also no. I think there's more going on there."

Alexia blinked, then waved it away. "Teig O'Kane. That's your code for hiding little caches. What does it mean here?"

"Not caches, in that sense," Marigold replied. "Did you never get a look at my notes?"

"Only the physical data," Alexia said sourly. "I wasn't allowed near anything deemed political - " Alexia stopped, darting a look at Marigold. She'd realized she'd strayed too close to a topic she very much didn't want to open.

They'd have to, and soon, but not yet. Marigold sighed. "It means 'where the bodies are buried'. The one in Devon is a list of names, people I've influenced."

Alexia made a face. "Your mutagenic saliva. Alfred mentioned the airfield. He found it unsettling."

Marigold shuddered. "He should. That was rough work, and I hate how much it looks like…well. When the virus isn't already involved, it's much easier to share a drink, or a cigarette. Sometimes a little more." She pinked a little. "With the virus involved beforehand…well, it always was a territorial little bastard. I didn't expect to end up linked like that. I certainly didn't expect that I'd have to let go as much as I did before it started to have an effect on him. It kept him from prying enough that I could hide the journals." She closed her eyes for a moment. "If I hadn't run out of pills in November, I probably would be healing normally. He doesn't know, Alexia."

Alexia stared at her, processing her words. "Are you pregnant?"

"Yes," Marigold replied, her gaze sad but steady. "Almost certainly, at this point. Now you know everything. So now I have to ask: what in the hell happened here?"