"I half-expected you to start asking for a ride back for the whole family," Jill admitted as they escorted the woman from the office.

"That would have been a really excellent solution, truth be told, but my niece isn't a people person." She glanced back to Jill. "You were hiding earlier? Thought so."

Jill countered with, "Your nephew also ran in shooting just after your niece threatened to set us all on fire."

"I still maintain that she wished very hard and got that last one as a Christmas gift." Marigold craned her head back to look at Jill. "Did you actually try to talk, or did you treat it like an interrogation and tell the girl with magic fire hands, who's emotionally still a teenager to go fuck herself?" Marigold turned back, not bothering to wait for a reply. "As a point of interest. Umbrella doesn't know either of us are alive. Alexia stands to take actual control away from Spencer, and the threat I pose to his power base is almost existential."

Marigold stopped a moment to lean against the wall, catching her breath. "It doesn't matter. Neither of your two groups are willing to coexist so long as you keep breaking into her damned house." She looked up, ruminating over something. "That explains the drawing room, anyhow. Do you know what toxic neuropathy is?"

Chris spoke up. - It's a liver failure thing, isn't it? All the bad shit floods the brain under stress." He looked around. "You'd have a lot of repeats at the drunk tank that were circling the drain, but would just totally lose it every now and then."

"Gold star for you." Marigold retorted, eyes closing.

Jill snapped at her. "Don't talk to us like we're stupid."

Marigold looked confused, then reddened. "I - oh. I'm used to having to kick in on packs of scientists who've never been told no. For a long time, a lot of them assumed I didn't have two brain cells to rub together." She pushed off the wall again, aiming for a bench. "Force of habit. Can we sit?" She didn't wait for them to respond and lowered herself down before continuing. " My brother was working with something that has an airborne toxin, and it's probably been left there for years. I'd never seen a case this bad before, but it's treatable. I was supposed to retire and move here to help with the twins in 82." There was a tightness in her face at the mention of her brother, but Marigold shook her head firmly when Jill caught her eye. "No. I'm not going to try to adjudicate every horrible thing that happened since '81. I wasn't here to do anything about any of it, and I'm not about to lay it all at the feet of children."

"They aren't children," Jill replied, trying to modulate the anger in her voice.

"They were for me up until a few days ago, and it's going to take a while to fully internalize that. Especially since my teenaged niece opted out of the last fifteen years and emerged fully-grown, oh, today."

Marigold pointed down the hall, toward a heavy iron gate. "What's left of your friend is down there. I wish you wouldn't. There's nothing left to save. I think the gate will stop anything that tries to follow you out, but I've been wrong a lot today about whether something is hurt enough not to follow."

This time Jill didn't bother to keep the sharpness out of her voice. "You aren't coming?"

Marigold returned the look with contempt. "Look at me. I'm in no condition to deal with what's left down there- I told you already- and whatever McNally did to himself is beyond my ability to deal with." She gave Jill a long, searching look, then lowered her voice. "How long ago were you exposed?"

Jill felt Chris freeze behind her. She glanced back and shook her head. "That was Raccoon City, I told you. I got the vaccine in time, I'm not going to change. How-" Jill was starting to get angry again. "Who told you that?"

"No one. It's something I tend to pick up on. You're not going to suddenly turn one day, but it's left a mark." At least she had the good grace to look mildly embarrassed. Marigold sighed, exhaustion seeping out of her pores. "I'm sorry. I know it's jarring to hear, and I'd try to explain it - I've had a little time to work it out, but I sound incredibly high when I try to put it in lay terms. Kindly stop pointing that at my face."

Jill hadn't realized that she'd been raising her weapon again in a defensive gesture until Marigold had snapped that last bit out, but she lowered it again immediately without thinking.

The seated woman gave her a long, searching look, face going carefully blank. "I don't intend to say anything about it, for what it's worth. You might want to take care as to who accesses your medical records a few years from now, though. Just a thought."

The tension stretched out, until Jill shook her head. "Is Grayson okay? They seemed pretty pissed with him when I ran out earlier."

Marigold's brow beetled, then smiled a little. "He's still befriending everyone in sight, isn't he."

"He was my neighbor in Raccoon City, and," Jill gestured back, "he helped Claire and some friends get out when things got really bad." Jill, scenting an opening, pushed on. "So you know about the healing thing, with Grayson? And the weird ant thing?"

Claire shook her head. "He's immune, Jill, it's okay."

"What makes you say that?" Marigold straightened, looking at Claire. Interesting, Jill thought.

Claire flushed, then explained. "He got bit when we were with him - in Raccoon City. He was sick for a bit, but got better."

Marigold frowned. "Immunity isn't quite the right word." She shook her head. "I never got into the intricacies of it." She looked back to Jill. "What ant thing?"

"They were leaving him alone, earlier. He told me about it right about the time he said he saw a ghost." Jill nodded to Marigold. "It was really weirding him out, and considering the shit we've all seen that's saying something."

Marigold blinked at her slowly, then jolted to her feet as if electrified. "I need to get back."

"Why?"

Marigold glared, but was beginning to look worried. "He needs to get out of here more than anyone. Was there anything else that happened?"

"Where is he?" Claire asked from Jill's shoulder. Jill responded at the same time. "The tentacle things. Alexia was controlling them and he…took one over? I think he was trying to help us get out, but Steve got sucked down." Claire looked at Jill, horrified.

Chris looks grim. He'd been quietly observing the exchange, saying little. "You know what's happening."

Marigold began to back away from them. "Yes. Maybe. I didn't see that, I can make guesses." She took a deep, steadying breath. "I know you've seen a lot of terrible things already, but you're not equipped to help him. This isn't T-virus. It's not Alexia's work either, I don't think."

"How do you know that? What's happened?" Jill edged forward.

"We don't know."

"You know he's…special, though," Claire said.

Marigold looked at her with a smile that looked a little broken. "We do. My father…helped him survive a condition he was born with. Scott Harman's a dear friend of the family. The only reason I can identify the actual cause of any of this is, well," she reached out to a snarl of hyphae on the wall, touching them lightly. The ones that came into contact shriveled and turned white. She gave a wan smile to the startled group. "I keep thinking I'm getting used to it too. More fool, me."

She pointed behind them again. "Please just…leave, once you're done down there. Don't linger a second longer than you have to." Her eyes shifted between Jill and Chris. "I'm…glad you found your family, but I have to get back to mine, now."

The three of them watched her turn and leave, making her way back down the dark corridor and disappearing around a corner.

Jill finally spoke. "Every second we spend here, and the weirdness fucking compounds."

"Yeah," Chris agreed. Then, "You saw the giant fucking holes in her story too, right?"

"Yep," JIll replied. "I don't think she's lying to us either." She turned, eyeing the heavy gate with trepidation. "Fuck. Alright." At least the guy who'd tried to save her life earlier was being looked after, rather than murdered, as she'd quietly feared. " Let's just get this over and done with."

The few hours of sitting, while actively attempting to talk multiple parties out of annihilating the lot of them, hadn't exactly been restful. Adrenaline letdown was a hell of a thing, she told herself. She had hoped desperately that was the extent of it.

The former STARS appearing the instant she'd finished that work had only reminded her of how badly she'd been pushing her luck. She felt tired, nauseous, old. Marigold shuddered to think of how bad she looked right now if strangers were actively both wincing at her appearance while simultaneously trying to drag her with them as a meat shield - or cannon fodder.

She had no real regrets in speaking with the small team and leveraging what she'd done for them into a shaky truce. Hopefully, they'd listen and get the hell out without fraying the twins' nerves beyond their breaking points.

Possibly, they'd deal with the problems in the basement.

Assuming that Alexia and Grayson could hurry the hell up and wake, of course.

She went back to her room. The uniform was still there, and the fire had burned down to embers. It would be cold, and grisly up in that facility. With a heavy sigh, she reached down for the sturdy uniform and slowly changed back, shoving her sweater into the pack she'd left on the bed. Looking around, she found a wool coat in the closet, and the tin of photos and mementos she'd saved from Rockfort.

She hesitated, then pulled the pack on the bed toward her and pulled out a couple of long, slim boxes. She'd promised Alexia she'd do one more thing before going into the facility. With a heavy heart, she went back into the bathroom to confirm what she'd already known.

Several minutes later, with her armful of possessions, she made her way back to Grayson's room. Alfred had settled in a chair, having drifted off. He'd gathered a few small packs of supplies, which sat by his feet. Marigold shut the door behind her, and he startled away. He blinked at her, voice bleary from sleep. "Did you get to who you needed to?" he asked with a yawn. He looked at her, eyes tightening with concern. "You're getting worse," he said baldy.

Marigold nodded. "I did all I could. I think I bought us a few day's time, anyhow. They very badly want a scapegoat right now, and Spencer's not very popular for the time being." She found. a spare pack in the pile and set it on a table, beginning to unpack the contents of her own to redistribute them. "I'm moving the chelators and the supplies into something your sister can carry," she explained. With deft hands, she deposited the rest of the unused tests into Alexia's pack. 'Statistically significant results', her ass. "She's less likely to get knocked about than I would if things go pear-shaped. How long have they been out now?"

Alfred looked at the clock on the mantle. "Four hours," he said.

Marigold stared, then got up and flipped the lock on the door. "Would it be terrible of me to ask to take a few moments to sit and shut my eyes?" She couldn't keep the pleading note out of her voice.

Alfred nodded, and straightened in his seat. "Of course. I'll watch the door. You've more than earned a rest."

With everything falling apart, Marigold thought she would take a while to drop off, but she was out the instant her head fell against the back of the soft, wingback chair.