Rose held the old photo of Leon in her hand, smoothing over the creases with her thumb. She remembered when she'd stuffed the picture into her pocket. Leon had been standing right next to her when she'd done it. The red paint spelling I'M WAITING had mostly chipped away, becoming illegible, and Leon's face was beginning to fade from how often she handled the picture. As soon as she'd realized, she'd stopped handling the picture without gloves on. Still, as grainy as the picture had become, his blue eyes still stood out.

Two years later, and she still felt her heart squeeze when she looked at the picture. She supposed that keeping tabs on him wasn't healthy. She needed to move on. It'd been so hard not to reach out when he was one of four people who still knew her real name. Sometimes, she had to remind even herself.

My name is Rosemarie Kidman.

She went by Miranda Kurt now. Eugene Bailey had given her a new name when he took her into Blue Umbrella to use as a weapon, a soldier for their cause. A cause she could actually believe in. Now it was Eugene, Ada Wong, Albert Wesker, and Leon Kennedy who knew who she really was. Rosemarie Kidman had been reported as deceased.

It was strange, being dead. She'd never really had any attachments in her life. Her adoptive father was a major prick, having wanted her to replace Ada, the woman he was obsessed with. Had intended to groom her into being his perfect wife after Carla had left him. The whole situation made her sick, and she had no idea where he was now. He'd half succeeded, too.

Wesker-her biological father-had been a child experiment himself, and thusly had enhanced his DNA. Since Rose had been half his, that DNA had been stronger than Ada's, and thus she had survived the transformation, but it only half took. She was now effectively the love child of Ada Wong and Albert Wesker. She had no idea who her biological mother was, and it didn't really matter. The woman was basically a surrogate now, having no trace of her DNA in Rose's system. Though the temptation was there to try and dig her up, to find out if she had one normal parent, she dashed that thought away. What would be the point?

They couldn't erase the past and start over. The woman might have moved on. Been married and had more kids. Rose was a grown woman now, and didn't need a mother. She didn't need parents at all.

She'd turned Wesker down when he tried to get her to work for him as Ada did. Tried enticing her with education about herself, about science, about anything he could think of that would draw her-and ultimately him- more power. It was curious, as angry as he was at her rejection, that he hadn't tried pushing the daddy card. It was clear that she was no more to him than another card in his hand, and if she refused to play, he would discard her.

No love lost there.

So, she left.

She'd tried to stay hidden, to leave everyone and everything behind her. But, she'd had no money, no where to go, and no purpose. It'd been degrading, disappointing, and boring. She had been driving herself mad when Ada found her again and introduced her to Eugene. The guy's father, Brandon Bailey, had been a founding member of Umbrella way back in the 60's. At first, she'd thought Ada was trying to rope her into another schema, but after sitting down and listening to what they had to say, Rose believed they were good. Blue Umbrella was a bunch of ex-Umbrella employees who were disgusted and ashamed by what they had become and were in the process of forming their own private military dedicated to anti-terrorism. It was a cause she could get behind.

Two whole years had passed and she still hurt every day. Her eyes trace Leon's baby face once more before she folds the pictured back up gently slides it back into her pocket.

"Ms. Kurt," her support agent calls into her earpiece. She ignores it for a moment, regaining her senses and trying to remember what she'd been doing before she'd seen a blonde head of hair that had nothing to do with anything, other than it'd reminded her of the man she craved to see again. Panamistan was a shit-hole now. Covered in dirt and overbaked by the sun, and there were people everywhere, recovering from an attack that should have never happened in the first place. "Miranda," said the agent-Peter Jackson- with an annoyed sigh.

"What?" She finally snapped. She didn't really like Jackson. Hunnigan had been sweet, and kind, and had been her best friend. Another person she'd forgotten about and the guilt threatened to twist her insides up again. She shoved it down. There was no time for that. There never was.

Jackson gave another heavy sigh, and it was clear from his tone that he didn't particularly care for her, either. "Report."

Rose scowled, biting back a scathing remark and eyeing the red-head woman who was standing with her hands on her knees trying to talk to a teenage boy in a wheelchair. She recognized the woman, faintly, from the Harvardville Airport incident last year, but couldn't remember her name. "Terra-Save is here," she said into the blue-tooth. "I'm looking right at one."

"Terra-Save," Jackson mused. "That figures. Didn't they do enough damage?"

"Everybody gets the facts wrong at some point, Petey."

"It's Agent Jackson to you," he huffed, and Rose rolled her eyes. "We're not friends. And even if we were, Petey, is just vile."

"You're right. Peckerhead is much more palatable." She coughed sarcastically when Jackson started protesting loudly in her ear. "Sorry, I meant Agent Peckerhead."

"You're a bitch, Kurt."

A wry smile curved Rose's lips as another man walked up to the woman and child. She watched the interaction as she gently took a sketch pad from the kids lap and looked at it with a forced straight face. It drew Rose's attention closer, making her curious. "I've been called worse. Did you get what I asked for?"

"No, the White House's servers locked up half-way through. We think someone else tried accessing it at the same time, and got caught."

"Hmm," she said, trying to keep her anger at bay. She clicked off her Bluetooth and removed it from her ear, not interested in hearing anything else he had to say. She hopped down from the low wall she'd been crouching down on, dirt blooming up as he boots touched the ground. She approached the redhead, who was still flipping through the book with increasing looks of horror. The man looked up as she approached, as Rose made no attempt to be quiet.

She shouldn't be doing this, but a part of her just couldn't turn around and leave without saying anything to the woman. She'd promised to find Leon after she'd left, but now, after so much has changed, she wasn't sure that was the best idea. Ultimately, they had the same goals, but now she had new fears. The government wouldn't be kind to someone like her. They wouldn't listen, wouldn't take the chance that she wasn't a monster. So, she had to stay away from him. To keep him safe, to keep him from having to make the decision of whether to turn her in or to lie to the people who paid him to make the world a better place, a career he both loved and hated.

She was being selfish by approaching this woman. But it didn't make her feel guilty enough to stop and turn away.

The woman looked up as Rose came to a stop, doing a double-take at her appearance. Rose supposed she wasn't very inconspicuous with her tight fitting black pants, belt lined with deep pouches, steel toed boots, and fitted black top that doubled as armor. Her sunglasses wouldn't have been out of the ordinary in a sunny place like this, but her emotions were running high and she knew that if anybody looked close enough, they'd see the ominous orange glow that was her eyes. "You're American," the woman said, astonished.

Rose chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's an assumption," she acknowledged, making the redhead frown. "But, true. Terra-Save, am I right?"

"Right," she said, nodding her head and smiling with all the charisma she had. Which was a lot. Rose frowned deeper, trying not to like her. "I'm Claire Redfield," the woman introduced, shoving the sketchbook under her right arm and popping her hand out for a handshake.

Rose took it, feeling slightly awkward, and shook it. It was the first handshake she'd done in ages, and it now felt strange. Usually it was orders being barked at her, with or without an introduction, and someone turned on their heels and walked out. "Ro-Miranda Kurt." Rose inwardly flinched, having nearly messed up. It wasn't like her name change was new, but the instinct she had to be open with this stranger had momentarily lapsed her judgement. If Claire noticed her slip-up, she didn't acknowledge it. The name Redfield rang some bells in the back of her mind and it took her a moment to realize why. "You wouldn't happen to be related to Christopher Redfield?"

Claire's eyebrows shot up under her bangs. "He's my brother," she answered proudly. "Do you know him?"

"No," she answered simply. It was the truth. Her father was just obsessed with the man, and now this bit of irony was tickling her fancy. I guess daughters rebel against their fathers no matter their age, she thought. Claire was looking at her even more suspicious now, so she sighed and looked around them, the boy and the man had both left them alone, but she didn't feel comfortable out in the open. She'd spent too much time with Ada to make that mistake. "Why don't we go for a drink and you can tell me about why you're here?"

"Why? Are you interested in helping out the relief efforts? We're trying to get schools built here. Medical Centers, things these people are still in desperate need of since the civil war."

Rose nodded, not at all interested, but feigning that she was. She might even donate some of her own salary if it kept the woman talking to her. Just the short distance between them reminded Rose about how lonely she'd been. "Let's get that drink," she says.

"I can't," Claire rejects, shaking her head sorrowfully. "I'm technically on the clock."

"I don't see anyone else around here listening to you. But suit yourself." Rose uncrossed her arms and begun to walk away. A smirk crossed her face as Claire seemed to shuffle her feet with indecision before jogging after her.

"Wait!"

"Wait," Rose called out, and Ada and Leon both froze. "I'm going with you."

"What?" Leon rounded on her, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Rose froze, her feet planting in the sand covered street harder than she intended. Claire caught up to her, and she wiped the short flashback to the back of her memory, forcing herself to focus on Claire standing in front of her.

"A drink does sound nice. I'm parched."

"Sure," Rose forced a smirk. "Let's go...I know a good bar."

"So, about TerraSave," Rose said, leaning against the edge of the bar, her arms crossed over her chest as she took in the bustling atmosphere around them. The place was cozy but lively, and it felt like the kind of spot people came to forget the chaos outside, if only for a little while. The bartender dropped off their cocktails, and retreated to the other side of the bar to take care of the rowdier patrons.

Claire took a small sip of her Miami Vice, humming at the sweet coconut-strawberry frozen beverage, then set it down on a coaster and turned to face Rose. "Right. Um, well, I already told you the big pitch. We just have to get more people involved."

"Why were you so interested in the kids pictures?" Rose asked, pointing to the sketchpad Claire was clinging to. She picked up her Goldschläger and tipped it back, letting the spicy alcohol slide down her throat before chasing it with her Bloody Mary. Claire looked at her with a look of disgust, pointed at her drink.

"How are you going to get through the night without throwing up?"

"It's vodka and schnapps, not beer and spirits," Rose says offhand, flicking her wrist toward the sketchpad, not letting it go.

Claire chuckled nervously, placing it on the counter in front of her but keeping her hands on them protectively. "I don't even know who you are."

"Ah," Rose nods, trying to buy her some time. "Let's just say I work for some people who want to make the world a better place. I understand you know a few people in the anti-bioterrorism business as well. Our interests align."

Claire's face goes through so many emotions at once that it almost made Rose laugh. Claire's expression flickered between surprise, suspicion, and something that might've been recognition. She studied Rose for a beat, her gaze sharp and searching. Then she leaned back slightly, her fingers tightening around her sketchbook once more, as if protecting it from some unseen threat.

"I do know a few people in the anti-bioterrorism business," Claire said slowly, her voice laced with caution, "but I don't know you—or anyone like you, for that matter."

Rose took another swig from her glass, trying to ignore the way Claire's sharp eyes seemed to see through her. "I'm not exactly the type to fit into a mold," she replied coolly, her tone a little clipped. "Let's just say I've been involved in a few incidents—the kind that have a tendency to shake up the world a bit."

Claire looked down at her drink, the expression on her face hardening. "I'm sure. And let me guess, that's where you came from? People who want to make the world a better place?"

Rose shrugged casually, her lips curling into a wry smile. "I wouldn't go so far as to say 'better.' But I do what I can. You don't exactly strike me as someone who needs saving either."

Claire let out a small, rueful laugh at that. She took a long pull from her cocktail, the coolness of it contrasting with the heat of the room and the sharpness of the conversation. "Fair enough." She finally pulls back the cover of the sketchbook, revealing an artistic adaptation of a zombie breakout. The colors etched into the page brought the image to life in a way that made Rose's stomach turn in knots. The red eyes, the blood, all of it a cruel reminded of everything she'd been through already. "This picture is what that kid drew about what happened here six years ago. Remind you of anything?"

"Raccoon City," Rose confirms. She hadn't been there for that. She'd been in the DSO Academy when that happened, but she'd heard about it. Had been around when the government allowed the coverup to keep the rest of the world from panicking. She knew Leon had been there, and she knew what it'd done to him. She'd had to pick through his brain in the middle of another horrendous mission, though she wasn't sure she did a very good job and she certainly hadn't been able to write up her reports.

Claire nodded, letting out a small puff of air and closing the sketchbook up again. "Exactly. I'm going to call the White House and set up a meeting with one of their secretaries to see if we can get someone to look into this."

"Why?" Rose asked curiously. What was the point? It was six years ago.

The redhead looked over at her like she'd lost her mind. "Because that means someone else has access to the virus that caused all this damage! We need to find out who before it happens again. I have friends who will never recover because of the things they saw and had to do."

"Hmm. I believe you're right."

"Y-you do?"

"Yes. Set that meeting up. Shoot your shot. I've got a lead on my target up that way anyway. This proposed war hero-Jason Chase," she figured she'd need to give a little to keep getting her way. To keep Claire off her scent. "My organization's interested in just how he managed to get his team out of there."

"And he would know what really happened," Claire said in realization. Rose nodded, smirking again as Claire fell right into her trap.

"Seems our interests are more aligned than I thought."