Occurs alongside Chapter 28: s/14128148/28/The-Antarctica-Incident

The first thing Marigold heard when she came to was the sound of a crackling fire. She started a moment before remembering that there was, in fact, a fireplace in her room. There was the sound of someone building and tending to it just beyond the slightly open door.

She pushed herself up from the cool bathroom tiles. There was a smear of blood where her head had hit the floor. She still felt lightheaded and nauseous, but the dizziness had at least, for the most part, passed.

With a groan, Marigold climbed to her feet, snagging the towel on the ascent and catching herself on the sink for balance. She winced at her reflection. The woman in the mirror was even paler than usual, like she'd been hollowed out and lit from the inside with a single Christmas tree light. Her veins stood out stark against her skin.

She looked far too much like her father had the morning after she and Scott Harman had fished him out of the Paris lab.

This was bad. She'd overtaxed herself once again, and her body had forced her into a hard stop. When she had done this a few months before, it had pushed her body into heat. This time, her body was actively protecting itself, reacting to strain and exposure.

She had to slow down.

"Auntie?" Alfred's voice came from the other room. He'd left her where she was to come back on her own. Given how bad she looked, that was probably wise.

"I'm up," she called back. "I'll be out in a moment." She straightened her robe with a sigh. There was no hiding this. At this point, it would be dangerous and grossly unfair to the others to try.

Alfred looked up from the fire when she stepped out of the bathroom, one hand holding the neck of her robe shut. He grimaced before turning back to the fire. "There's some tea on the table there. You should rest." He nodded to one of the wingback chairs in front of the fireplace. "I would have brought you out, but, well." He looked uncomfortable. "You might have growled at me a bit when I tried to roll you over."

Marigold blinked at the information. "I think that was the right call," she said slowly, easing into the chair nearest to her.

Alfred finished poking at the fire and sat down in the other chair. "You were right about people skulking about." He went on to tell her about the intruders she had heard, having come out of hiding guns blazing while she was in here- a paramilitary officer Grayson seemed to know, and one of the prisoners that ambushed him outside.

Marigold interrupted. "The boy who shot you, when we landed?"

It was Alfred's turn to blink in confusion. "No, the Redfield girl did that- she must have been connected to the people who attacked the island. They brought her in after she was caught raiding the Paris lab. It was the boy who-"

"-shot you." Marigold finished. "I saw him standing over you outside when I intervened. He'd been getting ready to finish the job." She frowned. "I've heard that name before. One of the survivors from Arklay has the same one. She wasn't connected with that group but I think she was involved in Birkin's death. Didn't she get out of Raccoon City with Grayson?"

Alfred's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?"

Marigold shrugged. "I made friends with someone who crossed paths with them, at the compound. They were bored, and amicable enough to gossip." Her brow creased. "An officer?"

"Some woman called Valentine. Grayson thought they could negotiate passage out since her partner could fly, but that's…Auntie, are you alright?"

Marigold had turned to stare at him., startled into spilling her tea onto her hands she barely noticed. "I- negotiate for what?"

"Passage out. They don't feel I can fly." He looked a little dejected. "I doubt they're about to do much now."

Marigold looked back to the fire. That….could have worked. Jill Valentine, here. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, but it was a complication. "What happened to them?"

Alfred looked vaguely annoyed. "The officer got out - one of them had a key, I'm not sure how. The boy, in any case…well, Alexia's going to make an example of him."

The Redfield girl had been caught raiding the fucking Paris lab. If Claire hadn't used the information she'd supplied Chambers in her scant hours of freedom back in July, she'd eat her shoes.

She took a deep breath. No use crying over spilled blood, especially that long dried. She didn't have the energy for it anyhow, and her niece was more comfortable washing her hands in it than she had been willing to admit. It hurt to think of the girl that way. "Well, we have access to the safe room now. I left a few little traps in my wake to buy us some time, but I'm probably not in any condition to fight him again for a while. As soon as they're done down there, we really need to get ready to move." Marigold winced a little, clearing her throat. While her adrenaline had been up, the spores hadn't bothered her as much. Now, her body had interpreted this moment of rest to start actively rejecting the incursion in earnest. She coughed into her elbow lightly. It would get worse, soon enough.

Alfred nodded. "Alexia's trying to find a way out that keeps Umbrella out of things until she's ready to deal with Spencer." He thought a moment. "Can you fire a bolt action rifle?"

"I have the handguns?" She paused. The handguns had been almost an afterthought, a way to draw focus. Alfred was asking something else. "Actually yes. I've been out on hunting trips. That's the limit of what I know how to use, though."

Alfred nodded. "I have something in my collection you might like. Anyone else would break a shoulder from the recoil, and the ammunition is limited, but you might be able to make use without pushing yourself more than necessary." He hesitated, looked away. Then: "I looked in your bag. After I found you on the floor. I was trying to see if there was anything that might explain why you were in such a state."

Marigold looked at him, confused for a moment. "The components? I haven't looked through the letters I found yet-"

"You also had…marks when I tried to roll you over." Alfred looked ready to sink into the plush chair and disappear when he said this.

Marigold craned around to look for the bag, seeing it, and its contents, partially strewn across the bedspread. Several single-use boxes of pregnancy tests were next to it.

She closed her eyes a moment. The one time I heal like a normal person….

After a long moment, Alfred asked in a small voice, "Were you going to say anything?"

Maybe. "Eventually. Alexia spotted…these when I was cleaning up earlier." She tightened her grip on the neck of her robe. "If her temper-, yours too- is anything like mine used to be, then…I had to. You were still very sick. You kept switching into your sister's voice on the flight over."

"I…what?!" Alfred looked affronted…though there was a creeping uncertainty in that exclamation. Marigold shrugged. "Coping mechanisms are what they are, dear. I think the exposures - the roses- magnified it. It seemed cruel to put anything like that on you when you were barely holding on." She sipped her tea. "I don't know if that's going to go away easily for you. I'm hoping that whatever you took to keep awake will flush out with the chelator, but you're not in any condition to be operating heavy machinery for a bit. I wish we could have waited, but it is what it is." She still felt so damned tired, herself.

"You're changing the subject again."

Marigold shook her head. "I'm-"

"Auntie."

"I-"

"Auntie. Rockfort has a private prison. Had. You don't need to spell it out." Alfred looked suddenly uncomfortable, like he had been caught out doing something untoward.

Given the rumours, "….oh. I don't think it ever got that bad."

"Why is that?" Alfred was trying so hard to keep his temper. He'd also seen what she was capable of out in the field.

"Because I made it clear immediately that anyone who tried would regret it horribly. It would have been reflexive." There was absolute certainty in that statement. Between the guards who had died at Arklay, and that moment of blacking out in the remote facility late in the summer… "Lashing out like that costs, but I have. It's just…the second I start acting like a monster is the second I'll be treated like one. Arklay proved that. I've managed to stay mostly on the right side of that line for a long time."

Alfred's mouth formed into a hard line. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision, and said, "You don't need to tell me."

"…Thank you."

The conversation trailed off from there, and they eventually lulled into a comfortable silence while the fire roared. They'd have to move again soon, Marigold thought, with a touch of drowsiness. Still, after running around in that freezing facility, it was nice to take a rest.

After a while, Grayson appeared in the doorway, looking hollow-eyed. By then, her headache had grown worse, and the congestion in her chest periodically erupting into short, sharp fits of coughing. Alfred had turned when the squeak of the floorboards had announced his arrival. Grayson had jokingly asked Alfred if she was about to turn into a zombie when Alfred had delivered a cryptic warning not to vex her too badly.

Their conversation meandered, and Grayson's eyes darkened when she brought up Don's betrayal, trying to impress upon him that they had to move as soon as possible. "He's a Monitor."

Marigold frowned a little. Zinoviev had been a Monitor as well, but the explanation of his actual function had been glossed over and hurried. Not that she'd had all that much mental faculties available when the explanation was made, in that little warehouse back office.

Grayson saw her confusion and took pity enough to explain. "Monitors are Umbrella's internal investigations team. Deep-cover operatives planted by the company brass to keep tabs on people they suspect of doing sketchy backroom shit. Like William Birkin. He was making deals with the US government behind Umbrella's back—trying to sell his research to them." He frowned, gazing into the fire. The flames were beginning to die down from a roar to something steady. After a long moment, Grayson seemed to realize something "Shit. Don's been at this facility since its opening." He looked at her, seeming to weigh how much to say. It was almost funny in an ironic sort of way. She'd been doing as much for them since she dropped back into their lives. Finally, he continued. "I think Spencer planted him here to watch your family," he said, voice carefully neutral. "But now that things have gone to shit, he's compiling BOW data just like Zinoviev did in Raccoon City. He's looking to sell his way outta this place."

"Why am I not surprised," said Marigold. That goddamned Russian had slyly threatened to sell her out to Spencer in the short time she'd be sent to meet with him, though the money was good enough to make that no real threat at the time. With McNally…

McNally had been here for decades. The man had injected himself with a cocktail of questionable origin (though she had a darkly hilarious idea of just how he'd gotten it). At least it cemented her decision to go along with the ruse and simply temporarily disable the bastard. Something he's said about Wesker came back to her. "There was one other thing. Don, he built a prototype hibernaculum."

"He mentioned wanting to peddle some kinda prototype to potential investors," Grayson said with a nod. "You suggesting I go after it?"

"No," said Marigold. There didn't have the time for side trips; not without intervention, anyhow. If she were right, McNally didn't have much time, and then all hell would burst loose. "I'm not. You need to get to the safe room. I just thought you should know, since you'd mentioned Don was looking to sell his way off Antarctica." She frowned, adding, "Could be a very valuable thing to the wrong person."

"If I get the chance, I'll destroy it."

Marigold hesitated, then smiled. She might as well say it. "Hard to believe you're the same man I saw standing outside Jack's Bar, all those months ago."

Grayson looked at her as if seeing her for the first time, and said, "I thought that was you, but Annette told me I was crazy." He grimaced. "Wish she was still around so I could tell her she was wrong."

Me too, Marigold thought. The woman had seemed formidable, even from their brief conversation. "Someone else had to point it out to me, much later," she clarified. "But then it was obvious. I wish she was around too. I owe her, and now? I can't ever repay my debt."

They both went silent for a bit, watching the flames. Grayson spoke for a little of the young girl he'd left behind, now in the hands of some 'government spookshow'. When she brought up the name 'Simmons', he looked at her as if she really were a ghost. She smiled and hummed to herself. Finally, a problem I can actually handle, she thought. Technically it would be mild kidnapping, but her present guardians would hardly be terribly invested in ensuring the girl have a safe and happy life. If Grayson were anything like his father…

Her next words were out before she'd thought about it. "I don't know when murder became so easy for everyone." Even just stating it made her tired, but it circled back around to the incident that had driven Grayson back up here.

Grayson seemed just as tired, but surprised her by having a ready answer. "Should I start at the dragonfly, or speed it up a couple of years to Alfred's torture chamber?"

"….I should have just finished packing and come back here."

"I think we all have those could've-should'ves, Ma."

She hummed assent. "I keep hitting that same question with everyone involved in Umbrella." Marigold cleared her throat again, sat up a little. "It's hard to see the change happening when you live in the middle of it. It was…jarring to learn a lot of things when I got out."

Grayson deadpanned, "I could have avoided everything if id just died as a baby like I was supposed to. Really didn't believe that whole story about your dad until some spooky shit started happening earlier."

Marigold looked over at Grayson, giving him a little smile. "That was probably the only good thing to come out of that whole debacle. I think he'd tell you as much himself." She hesitated, then, "I'm glad you got away for a few years and lived your life, for what it's worth. I won't pretend you had it easy."

Grayson gave her a sharp look. She'd startled him, she realized. She hesitated, then came to a decision. "I did something a little spiteful, back in July. I think one of the scientists let me out before they pulled all the Tyrants from the building. When…" she paused. "Oh, hell. This entire story sounds like an acid trip. Someone needs to know this though- I still think I did the right thing. At the very least, it's been weakening Spencer's grip on the company. I'm not sure the twins will understand."

Grayson narrowed his eyes. "On one hand, just that opener makes me want to go get a drink."

"I can completely sympathize." Marigold squeezed her eyes shut. "The three of you were pre-teens six months ago as far as I'm concerned. Everything's subtly wrong, all the time. I have to keep reminding myself you're all about thirty now." She squinted. "Thirty-one, in a few days, for you. Happy birthday?"

Grayson snorted at the non-sequitor. "On the other hand, I'm kind of glad you're not keeping me in the dark? Everything since Alexia woke up has been an acid trip, so what's one more thing."

"I…keep in mind that I thought Spencer had arranged an accident here for some time." She started the story from the point of waking, skimming as much as she could across how the Tyrant had let her escape - Grayson's eyes narrowed when she mentioned the Russian whose name she learned later to be Sergei Vladimir, but said nothing. Following that was her brief encounter with the mass of leeches that wore Marcus's face, to her finding out about what had happened to STARS, and the destruction of the mansion. "Right before I saw you, I'd written down everything I could think of about what had happened in '81, and about the facilities that I knew were working with the virus. I was looking up Miss Chambers' address in that phone booth. So I could hand it over and disappear." She looked over at Grayson, whose eyebrows had climbed into his hairline. "I left out Rockfort, and here. I left out a lot of details, but…when I heard about why that girl was at the prison…."

"Claire was raiding the Paris facility," Grayson finished. He passed a hand over his face. "Okay, I can see why you didn't tell the twins yet. Alfred thinks Claire's a secret agent with HCF."

"Your dad and I might have broken a fire door getting their grandfather out when the accident happened," Marigold nodded. "It was a few months before you were born. When they shuttered the old level, I don't think they ever bothered to fix it." She made a frustrated sound. "Unforeseen consequences. Alfred made it sound like you knew Miss Valentine, and I've been actively avoiding giving up any useful intel for months."

Grayson sighed. The sound had a bone-deep weariness to it. "I'm pretty sure they'd be pissed. I guess I'm glad at least one of you is thinking instead of reacting. Do I even want to know what that last bit is about?"

"You do not. It can absolutely wait, and Alexia knows what happened. That was a very uncomfortable conversation for both of us." Marigold smiled a little. "I still think she wished very hard for fire powers before putting herself to bed."

"I would pay to be in the room when you tell her that, to be honest. Are you going to be okay up here?"

Marigold gave him a rueful little smirk. "That's a loaded question. I really do need the rest, but I'll pull through. Always do. "

Grayson sighed, getting up. "I'm not sure I'm ever really going to trust a death announcement again."

Marigold laughed a little in spite of herself. "If that's the hardest lesson we take from all of this, I'll take it." She looked back at the fire. "Go find Alexia, and we'll all start getting ready to leave. I'd like to get the lot of us settled in safe before that particular pack realizes we've slipped the snare."